In Search of Happiness

by Nicky Roth

He reached into his pocket. Yes, his friend was still there, sleeping peacefully untroubled by the dampness that had seeped through even to him. Bless!

  Chapter 23

  Health is not valued till sickness comes.

  - Thomas Fuller

  The next morning, Darcy felt utterly exhausted despite having gone to bed early; his head was throbbing and his throat aching and he could barely speak. Not a very promising start to the day, to say the least. He was almost thankful that it was still raining, for it meant that aside from taking care of the seedlings in the hothouse, there was little he could do around the garden itself. Still, it did cost him some effort to drag himself out of bed.

  Well, had he been at home, he could have stayed in bed all day, with a comfortable fire in the grate and an endless supply of lovely hot soup and tea as well as a good book to occupy himself with. But as it was, he was only a servant now, and he would have to take care of his chores regardless. And then there were still his letters... - Perhaps he would have preferred for it to be dry and sunny after all.

  He washed and shaved as he did every morning, shivering from the cold water he had to use. With him trembling anyway it was highly unpleasant, but what must be, must be. If only he could take a nice warm bath. One with a dash of peppermint or spruce oil, preferably. That always worked wonders with a blocked nose and sore throat. Or a nice spoonful of honey. Obviously, neither was an option. If anything he would have to be content with onion brew or chewing fennel seeds.

  Once again Darcy made his way over to the house following the other lads for their usual breakfast of plain porridge and thin tea before taking care of the saplings, carefully tending to them, replanting the larger ones into bigger pots with a nice amount of horse manure at the bottom, clipping some seedlings here and there for good measure and then watering them all. It was work that technically could have waited for another week, but should the weather be fine, there were other things to do then. And besides, it was comfortably warm in the hothouse, with the small furnace stoked to give an even temperature throughout the day and more importantly the night without it being too hot and the work, which required some attention distracted him from his discomfort.

  By lunch, the rain had turned into a mere drizzle, though working outside was still out of the question, for it was far too wet. Darcy did feel a little better and so the remainder of the day cooped up in the shed with Prickler at his feet, he spent polishing the gardening tools and sharpening the spades, sickles and scythes with a wet stone before wiping all of the tools down with lard, polishing them once again until they were nice and shiny. At least he stayed dry, though other than in the hothouse, here it was cold and draughty and by dinner-time, his head pounded and his voice had all but left him and he felt worse than upon rising. Still, he was determined to walk over to Meryton to post his letters but Peters was having none of it.

  'You ain't going nowhere, laddy, but straight to bed!' he grumbled, though not without a fatherly pat on Darcy's back. 'Just give those darn letters to John and he can post them for you on the morrow.'

  Could he dare it? In town where no one knew much of his background except that he was a gardener at Longbourn, he felt secure enough to leave the letters addressed to his sister and cousin as well as Bingley, without fearing detection, but with John? Well, it was not as if the boy could read much as yet. And at any rate, his aching head refused to come up with an excuse as to why he had to post them himself. He had no other choice it seemed.

  With an exhausted sigh, he handed the letters to be posted and three pence over to John, half expecting the boy to try and read what was written on the envelopes. He did indeed see John's eyes flicker over the lines he had written for the shortest of moments until by sheer luck of convenient coincidence, the maids brought back the food from the family's table at which John promptly claimed the remaining piece of apple crumble for himself, tucking the letters unceremoniously into his pocket without further ado.

  It had been a close call. He would need to be more cautious in the future. But how was he to manage? He had not thought what it might entail teaching his fellow servants how to read and write, and never would he have thought that it might bring him into a quandary at any rate. It was blatantly obvious that he was not made for deception. First, Miss Elizabeth and now this... - How much longer would he be able to stay here? Just when he had started to feel like himself again.

  That he should fall ill, was another thing he had not figured into his calculations, but as it was, he could feel himself burning up with a fever on top of it all. Darn, was everything going wrong today? It sure seemed so. Alas, there was little he could do but go to sleep early again and hope for the best. And so with a heated brick wrapped in old linens, thoughtfully supplied by Mrs Hill, he made his way over to his chamber, curled up in bed and fell into a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter 24

  I love you more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

  - John Keats

  The first indication that something was wrong was a lonely looking hedgehog scuffling across the lawn. No William anywhere in sight even though after two days of rain the sun was shining as if it wanted to make up for the past days of inclement weather. But there was only Peters, his clay pipe between his lips, raking the driveway looking slightly grumpy as always at this time of day.

  'Good morning Peters,' Elizabeth approached the man taking an inconspicuous detour, for she had fully intended to simply cross the lawn and ramble over to her favourite haunt instead of walking out the gate. 'All on your own this morning?'

  'Morning, Miss Elizabeth. Well yes, William is lying sick in his bed with a fever. Wanted to get up that boy, that's how he is, always dutiful, but I told him that since we're going to be busy from next week on, that is, should the weather stay this way, he'd better stay in bed and get rid of that blasted cold he's got. Mighty unfortunate, Miss, but what can one do?'

  Not much, Elizabeth had to admit. And it was all her fault! If she had not delayed their return to Longbourn with her nosy inquiries, the poor man would not suffer a cold now. But no, she had not been able to keep her curiosity in check and now he lay in his bed with a fever.

  For her it had been easy enough, all she had to do upon her return home was change into a dry frock and sit in front of the fire in the parlour with a nice hot cup of tea. But he, as a servant, in all likeliness, had no such comforts waiting for him, at most, it would have been a cup of tea for him and perhaps a quarter of an hour in front of the fire in the kitchen, if even that. Well, if he really were a servant accustomed to working out of doors it presumably would not have been all that much of a problem either, but alas, he was not. What a revelation that had been!

  Under normal circumstances she would have been angry at having been deceived, but he had spoken of his reasons so earnestly that there was little doubt that deception had not been on his mind when he had chosen to come hither to work for them as a gardener and besides, it was hardly his fault that he made her heart beat just this little bit faster every time she cast her eyes on him, was it?

  No, it was not! And the worst part was that now she knew he was really a gentleman. And one of a kind at that. He was kind, caring, intelligent – all that, but also apparently stubborn to a fault. Yet, she rather liked that.

  Deep in thought, she rounded the park and marched up the hill for once oblivious to the beauty surrounding her. No, something had to be done for him. The question was just, what? What could she do without giving away his secret as she had so faithfully promised him?

  'Eliza!' a voice shouted out to her from some distance away and a little further down the path, just where it led down towards Lucas Lodge, Charlotte stood waving at her.

  Waving back, Elizabeth quickened her step, schooling her face, so obviously contemplative before, into a mask of her usual cheerfulness. It did not fool Miss Lucas, though.

  'I thought you had turned deaf all of a sudden,' she smiled teasingly. 'You were far
away, were you not? In thought, I mean, for in body you were pretty close by. - I was just about to pay you a visit. So, what were you pondering on so deeply?'

  'Oh, this and that, really. You know me, I always think about the one or other thing when rambling about,' Elizabeth tried to divert her friend, again with little success.

  'I know you well enough, Eliza, to not be fooled. You might think about the one or other thing on occasion, but when walking, you mainly just enjoy what meets your eyes unless something has happened that causes you to worry. Has something happened?'

  Charlotte Lucas looked concerned now, slowly falling into step beside her.

  'No, aside from that it is now definitely decided that Lydia shall have her coming out at the next assembly.'

  'And that is what worries you so? Well, I know she is still very young and boisterous, but she will learn how to behave eventually, do trust me.'

  Actually, Charlotte could not be further from the truth as to what was on her mind, but Elizabeth could hardly tell her that.

  'I suppose I have to believe the best for the time being. It is just that Kitty always follows where Lydia leads and while she is behaving with propriety now, I do wonder...' she sighed.

  That was actually nothing but the truth. She did worry about Lydia's coming out and how it would reflect on the family and Kitty in particular. Only last night Lydia had declared how funny it would be if she were the first one to find herself a husband and that determined sentence alone gave Elizabeth and Jane cause to worry. Not that they did not want to see her youngest sister happily wed, but it was presumably not a stretch of the imagination to how she would behave in the meantime in order to attract a man who would take her for a wife.

  'Yes,' Charlotte's voice reached through to her again, 'but think about it, you and Jane are there to guide her. And considering that either of you might get married in the next twelvemonth or so, perhaps now is as good a time as any for her to come out and have both of you still around.'

  'I am pretty certain the chance of Jane and I getting married within the next year are pretty slim, Charlotte,' Elizabeth answered with a laugh. 'As you might have noticed, there is quite a lack of suitable young men around here with whom to marry.'

  'True,' Charlotte sighed, then grinned. 'But you never know. There is the good chance that Netherfield Park might be let at last to a handsome young man with a large fortune and in want of a wife.'

  'Yes, and then there is the even greater chance that when we stand on top of this hill just long enough that a knight in shining armour happens to come along to sweep us off our feet.'

  'Well, yes that chance we should not discount either,' Charlotte, quieter than herself but always just as quick to counter with her own wit replied with a laugh. 'So, I stand by my claim, there is a strong chance that either one of you or even both will be married within the next year and what then? Lydia will be left unguided except for by Mary and Kitty.'

  It told volumes that her friend did not mention their mother. But as well-meaning, loving and caring as Mrs Bennet was, she generally turned a blind eye to her youngest daughter's wild behaviour. Lydia, as the youngest had always been indulged as if seeing her grow up was too much to bear, too much of a reminder that one grew old. On the other hand, bringing her out in society contradicted her own theory there. Life's philosophy often defied all logic, it seemed.

  'Perhaps you have a point there, after all, Charlotte,' Elizabeth replied lightly, though her heart felt anything but light. 'Oh, look, the first lambs have arrived.'

  'See, new year, new arrivals and what next? New love?'

  'I have never taken you to be a romantic, Charlotte Lucas!'

  'Alas I am not, but you are, Eliza. No do not dare deny it, you are fine now, but when in love, you will be just as much of a fool as everybody else who believes in love, while I, on the other hand, would be perfectly content with a good house and an establishment of my own.'

  'And what if you should fall in love? After all, it is beyond our control if, when and with whom we fall in love.'

  'Do you speak of your own experience or have you read such nonsense in a book? If it is the latter, I suggest you change your taste in reading. As you have pointed out, there are not exactly many opportunities here and I, at any rate, cannot be choosy.'

  'Neither can I, I fear. But that does not mean we have to despair as of yet. As you have said, perhaps soon enough Netherfield Park will be taken by a handsome young man with a large fortune and in want of a wife; and after all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'

  'Exactly!'

  They had reached Longbourn and once they stepped over the threshold their conversation could not continue with the same unrestrained openness - if one could call it all that open on her part - since there were too many ears to listen in on what they were saying for lack of anything better to do.

  Chapter 25

  Rest when you're weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. Then get back to work.

  - Ralph Marston

  The unpleasantness of the situation was made worse by the embarrassment of having been here for barely a month before falling ill, and even Peters' assurance that those kinds of things happened all the time, did little to console Darcy in his present state. He did not deal well with being ill even at the best of times and being ill lying in a tiny chamber with little to do but stare at the wall was ultimately worse. Well, he had not been this grumpy since he had left London and it was the only consolation that of late he had found society even more bothersome than a fever.

  But with nothing to read, all Darcy could do was feel sorry for himself and besides, it was cold up here over the stables, and the air was somewhat stale. It had not bothered him before, but now it did as querulously he turned from one side over to the other and back again. If only he could sleep a little, but even that was denied him for some or other sinister reason. Not that he was bothered by his work-fellows or the animals shuffling around down below, no, he just was too restless. Restless and cranky and all in all wallowing in self-pity.

  Tom had been kind enough to bring over his meals so he would not need to go over to the house, and yes, he was grateful for that. Very much so. On the other hand, a little company would have been nice as well. Even if he only listened to what the others were saying or the kitchen maids singing as they did their chores while he sat by the fire. Yet there he would have been in Smith's way again and besides, he was quite groggy and glad that he could lay down. His head ached quite a bit.

  And then there was the concern for Miss Elizabeth. After all, he had not been the only one who had gotten thoroughly wet two days ago. And if he had caught a cold, what about a fair lady? Was not a lady's constitution a lot less robust than that of a man? What if she too had to stay in bed suffering just as he did? The only consolation in that respect was, that she had a loving family to care for her, and likely something to read and a warm fire to sit in front of.

  A curt knock on the door sounded, rousing him from his thoughts and in stepped John, sporting his dourest expression, without as much as waiting for an answer, carrying a tray of steaming hot tea and a book.

  'You are lucky, William, to be able to lie around all day,' the young lad remarked, plunking down the tray onto the chair beside Darcy's bed with little regard to the fact that tea was spilling everywhere. 'I wish I could do that whenever I felt like it.'

  'Well, in this case if I could, I would willingly swap with you, for I would prefer to be out and about without having a fever and sore throat,' Darcy croaked back, eagerly reaching for the book.

  'Miss Elizabeth thought you might want to read something... - Had it from Peters that you were ill when she was out walking.'

  Really? That was very considerate. Oh, and it was also good to know that she was out and about and obviously not sick herself.

  Realising that John looked at him inquisitively Darcy raised a questi
oning eyebrow to indicate his growing irritation with the boy. John was not the most industrious lad to begin with, hardly ever offering to lend a hand even when everyone around him was busy, hustling and bustling around, while he sat at the kitchen table idling away his time; that is until ultimately Smith or Hill caught sight of him and made him help. But it really always required one of the senior servants to remind him of his duties. However, in the end, he was nothing but a typical boy of fourteen, slightly sulky, always hungry and never very fast. He would grow out of it eventually, as every young boy did.

  When after a couple of minutes John still just stared at him, Darcy asked: 'Well, what is it?'

  'Why would Miss Elizabeth send you a book?'

  'I presume because she thought it might help me pass the time. She knows that I'm teaching you all how to read and write - as you might know from the fact that she provided the slates and old textbooks.'

  'Hm,' was all the boys huffed reply before he turned and walked out of the room, habitually forgetting to close the door behind him.