by Nicky Roth
She had often argued with her father that when it came to Kitty and Lydia it might, perhaps, be wiser to give them their money on a monthly basis instead of one large sum every three months, but since it was more comfortable for him this way, she had not had any success. With a sigh, she picked up her many parcels and left for home.
The dark clouds had come ominously close by now and so Elizabeth hastened her step even more than she normally did. She would make it, surely. It was barely a mile to Longbourn. What was a mile of brisk walking? Nothing but half an hour - and that was taking her load into consideration, for it was slightly hampering.
Chapter 21
The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Elizabeth had been sure she would make it home in time to avoid the rain, but about half-way on her way back home the skies opened and it all but poured down.
Two choices were before her, either to seek shelter somewhere or to run. The former was, at this time of year where the trees barely just sprouted their leaves more of a futile effort while the other was made difficult by the many boxes, parcels and bundles she was carrying. They were not actually heavy, nor were there all that many, but to protect them from the rain Elizabeth had tucked them rather awkwardly under her pelisse. She surely must look silly, but at present that was the least of her worries.
Both options, however, were shortly and unexpectedly joined by a third, when she perceived a man walk down the lane towards her carrying an umbrella. A man she knew. A man she thought about all too often already anyway. There, amidst the pouring rain, whistling a cheerful tune William rambled along on his way into town and no sooner did he spot her where she stood underneath the insufficient shelter of the branches of a lithe willow trying to make up her mind, that he hurried his pace and was soon by her side holding out his umbrella to her.
'Miss Elizabeth, please take this or you will be soaked in no time.'
Adding after a glance at her and in a wry voice: 'If you not already are.'
She did not take the umbrella, however, asking instead: 'And you?'
'Never mind me. I'm a sturdy fellow, I'll be alright,' he grinned back, now holding it over her head while the rain slowly but surely drenched his own rumpled looking clothes.
'Are you posting letters again or are you picking some up?'
'The former, Miss.'
Well, now was as good a time as any to start her “investigation”, was it not?
'To your sister or one of your cousins?'
'Both actually.'
'My father told me you are now teaching the other servants to read and write as well...'
'Yes, I guess I am. It happened quite by accident, but when they heard that I'd written to my sister they were all eagerness and hard to refuse.'
'You, William, make me heartily ashamed of myself! I should have thought of it myself. You know, when I was little, Jane and I taught Smith and Mr and Mrs Hill.'
'Which is just as well, for there is nothing better than to learn by teaching it to others.'
'Very true,' Elizabeth answered thoughtfully.
'So it is only natural that when you outgrew your ABC that you would forget all about sharing it with the others. At home, it is such a normal thing that I quite forgot that not all masters have the same sentiment.'
'But yours had.'
Ha, the conversation went exactly where she wanted it to go!
'Yes, I was fortunate in that respect.'
'Only in that?'
'No, it was a good position I held.'
'Had it not been for the sake of a girl,' Elizabeth replied rather slyly.
He did not reply to that but merely cast his eyes down an unreadable expression crossing his features.
'Are you happy here?'
'Very. I much prefer the country to town.'
'But surely, if you had told Mr Darcy as much he would have found work for you on his estate in Derbyshire.'
Again he startled, looking almost shocked, before shaking his head slightly and replied vaguely: 'Perhaps.'
'But alas, there was this girl.'
Once more he did stay silent but longingly glanced towards Meryton as if he wanted nothing more than just run from her.
'You never said what your position was, William, and I have to admit that I am quite curious,' she carried on undeterred despite his apparent discomfort.
'I... - I worked around the house most of the time,' he positively stammered now, not looking her in the eye.
'Ah, that explains why you are so good with horses,' Elizabeth remarked archly.
'Well, occasionally I had to accompany Mr Darcy.'
She seized her chance: 'You mean your father, I suppose?'
At this, all colour left his face and Elizabeth was almost worried he would faint if that were not such a ridiculous notion. Men did not suffer fainting fits.
'Mr Darcy is about my age, Miss Elizabeth. He has no children,' William pressed out from between his teeth.
So, she had hit a nerve.
Oh! She had completely neglected that possibility... - He could be Mr Darcy's illegitimate brother, of course, just as well as the man himself. It did happen, more often than people liked to admit, and it again would explain why he might have left his previous position. Odd she had not thought of that before. It would also explain why he looked so much like her aunt's description of Mr Darcy.
'Only a sister,' she remarked absent-mindedly.
Her head was spinning. Perhaps all this questioning had not been such a good idea after all. Definitely not without thinking it through properly. Alas, now it was too late. Elizabeth would either be proven right or a right fool.
'Yes.'
Again, the girl in question could be both men's sister. But if he considered her a sister, then he would also have to consider his former master a brother, would he not?
'And a handful of cousins?' she dug deeper.
'Yes.'
Again no mention of a brother. This line of questions would not get her anywhere and he appeared to grow ever more impatient to continue on his way. Well, he was quite soaked by now; the brim of his hat was threatening to fall into his face with all the water gathered there and his clothes had wet patches all over.
'Do they know you are here?' she ploughed on, however.
'Who?' he asked, looking puzzled now.
But at least the colour had returned to his face, this times heightened and he did shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other all the while ceaselessly holding the umbrella over her head.
'Your family.'
'Of course.'
'And they think nothing of it?'
'Well...'
No, again this would lead to nothing. As yet all of his answers were too open for interpretation and that would not do. She had meant to be more subtle, but alas, her curiosity had gotten the better of her and now there was no way back. Right or fool...
'Why are you really here, Mr Darcy?'
For a moment there was nothing but silence and then there was merely the soft thud as the umbrella fell to the ground and into the mud beside them, splattering them both.
It was not before several long minutes had passed that he finally answered in a rather harsh tone of voice that sounded quite unlike him, without his Derbyshire-accent: 'I was so tired of all the pretence of London society that I just needed to get out. Needed to be with people who would accept me for who I am without the need for me to put on a mask. Every night I wished myself far away, turning more and more bitter as the weeks passed, up to a point when I neither knew nor liked myself anymore. Is that reason enough?'
There was no doubt that he was speaking the truth. He looked like a lost little boy as he stood there in the pouring rain. Yet, at the same time, there was a decided stubbornness about him that showed that he was anything but a boy. And at any rate, it was a good enough reason. One that explained everything in all its simplicity.
'It is,' Eli
zabeth calmly answered. 'And your secret is safe with me, William, for as long as you like. By the way, where is your little friend?'
The informal address towards a servant, not a master was enough to assure him that she meant what she had said and with a soft smile he reached into his pocket and pulled out the sleeping hedgehog.
'I didn't have the heart to leave him out in the rain,' Darcy answered gently before tucking the little creature back in.
Chapter 22
Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.
- Buddha
Picking up the umbrella again, Darcy, after shaking it thoroughly to get rid of the mud, once more held it out to Elizabeth, who with some difficulties took it. Under normal circumstances, he could hardly be called a curious man, but there was an obvious question that he would have liked answered and so, momentarily forgetting about his letters, he fell into step with her relieving her of her hampering cargo.
'Miss Elizabeth,' he began hesitantly when he had managed to assemble the many parcels into a neat pile that would neither squash Prickler in his pocket nor make his arms fall asleep, 'now that you know who I am, may I inquire how you found out? I have to admit that I was quite certain I would go undetected for the duration of my stay, but was obviously wrong in my assumption.'
'Not entirely, I assure you. You were quite convincing. I have never seen a gentleman work so hard and do such dirty work and most certainly not without complaining. But you spoke too well for a mere under-gardener, despite your rural accent. And you read Shakespeare. Come now, that is not very characteristic for a servant, is it? Even one who knows how to read.'
'Apparently not.'
'And so I took the trouble of finding out more about your former employer to see whether he deserved your praise or whether there was another reason than that mysterious silly woman why you had come here to find work,' she explained.
Did he imagine it or did she look somewhat challenging putting some emphasis on “that mysterious silly woman”?
'You see, at that point, you had me quite confused,' Elizabeth Bennet carried on. 'And so I wrote to my aunt who lives in London and who, incidentally, knows you. Well, rather knew you when you were a little boy, but she had at least seen you since and gave a description of your appearance and only then did it occur to me, that you might actually be Mr Darcy and not one of his former servants.'
Her aunt knew him? As a boy? He could not help digging deeper, for now ignoring the need to tell her that there had never been a woman he was in love with. Though now there was and she was walking right beside him. But no, as yet, he was still nothing but a gardener and he would remain so for at least another few weeks.
'She grew up in Lambton,' Elizabeth Bennet added as if she had guessed his line of thought.
Oh?!
'Pray, what is her name?'
'Well, now she is Mrs Gardiner, but she was born Madeleine Harris,' the lady beside him replied.
'Harris? Surely not the Harrises of Bell Street?'
His voice now turned eager. He well remembered, if not the Harrises themselves, their maid quite well. A good-natured woman ever smiling, ever calm. He had adored her as a boy. She was a model of patience, good cheer and hard work. That she had worked so ceaselessly while having a bent back had impressed him even more. But darn, what had been her name? He was almost ashamed that he could not remember it. He should. Especially considering how often he had gotten into trouble for mingling with the lower classes. But with the innocence of a child, he had seen nothing wrong in his behaviour. They were, after all, nice and mainly decent people with very few exceptions. Then he had been sent to Eton and gradually his outlook on the world had been altered by the notion that he was something better...
'I have to admit that I do not know. But I could ask my aunt if you like,' she offered just as they reached the front steps of Longbourn House.
'Perhaps sometime, Miss Elizabeth. But for now, you should go inside and get yourself dry,' he smiled.
'That sounds like a very good plan. And the same applies to you, William. Get yourself into the kitchen and warm yourself.'
Now she sounded like a stern army commander and by the grin on her face and the sparkle in her eyes, it was apparent that she was well aware of it.
'I will. The rain is mighty cold.'
He handed back her parcels, bowed and rounded the house. His clothes were indeed dripping wet by now and a slight wind had roused and made him shiver. He would have to take care that he did not get ill. It would not do. Colds were unpleasant at the best of times, but thinking of having to drudge on while feeling weak and feeble would be close to unbearable.
It was the first time in weeks that it crossed his mind, that he was lucky to have been born into a wealthy family where they could afford a doctor and a warm fire in the bedroom, hot tea and warm baths when feeling unwell and as if to undermine his thoughts, he actually had to sneeze. Oh dear!
He stepped into the kitchen, taking great care to wipe his shoes as best as he could in order to not offend Smith. His feet were quite wet actually, for though the boots he had acquired were, in dry weather at least, perfectly serviceable, now that he had waded through several puddles, they proved to be water-permeable.
Darcy sneezed again, gaining the attention of the cook.
'Oh goodness, William, have you caught a cold? I said from the start that you shouldn't go out in this kind of weather,' she sighed, though in truth, she had not even seen him leave. 'Come, come and sit down and have a good cuppa. It'll be no good if you should fall ill now. Peters says planting season is about to start, now that it has gotten warmer. All hands will be needed.'
Well, it was impossible to argue about that statement of it being inconvenient getting ill.
'I'll be just fine, Mrs Smith, thank you, but a cup of tea would be very welcome indeed.'
'And push your chair towards the hearth. Just look at you, you're all sodden.'
'That I am for sure, Mrs Smith. Are you sure I won't be in the way?'
'Oh, you'll be, but we can't have you ill, William. So, I'd rather put up with you being in the way than to listen to Peters complain about the inconvenience of you being unable to work.'
Once again he sneezed, undermining her words with annoying determination. Pulling out his handkerchief, Darcy blew his nose, which had also started running. Not a good sign at all. But alas, there was little he could do now but to let nature take its course and ponder on Miss Elizabeth.
By the sound of it, it had been fairly simple to discover his real identity, but then again, the young lady seemed to possess a sharp mind and a very lively fantasy. After all, there were many young men that fit his description. But perhaps it would have been wiser to have given his friend's name instead of his own as his former employer. If only he had thought about that. But he had not, and now he had been found out. Still, she had promised him to keep her discovery to herself, and there was little reason to assume she would break her promise. And maybe, just perhaps, there was a chance he could... - But no, that was most certainly out of the question!
He was so deep in thought that he did not realise that Fanny was standing right before him holding out the promised tea to him and only when she cleared her throat with a small giggle, did he rouse from his musings.
'What are you thinking of so deeply?' she asked cheekily.
He smiled, took the cup from her and answered ruefully and not quite truthfully: 'Oh, nothing in particular. I was just wondering when the rain would stop so I can go back to Meryton and post my letters. I had no chance to, you know?'
It was not a complete lie. And he would have to go back.
'Not? All those sodden clothes and not posted your letters? Now that is unfortunate!' Mrs Smith piped up from the other side of the kitchen.
'Well, on my way thither I came across Miss Elizabeth stranded underneath a tree hoping for the rain to stop, but instead it got worse and so I helped her bring ho
me her purchases and lent her my umbrella. Oh, which reminds me...'
