by A K Madison
Elizabeth went to her father’s library and lit several candles. She stood quietly and let the peace of the room penetrate her thoughts. She felt she could somehow sense her father’s presence here more than in any other part of the house. With a sigh, she prepared a brief note for her Uncle Philips, enclosed the three bills, addressed it, and sealed it so that it could be delivered on the morrow.
✽✽✽
The frost lay thick on her windows and on the ground outside when Elizabeth rose the next morning. She dressed warmly, knowing that a quick walk would set her up perfectly for the day ahead, left the house and took the lane towards Lucas Lodge and Meryton. Before she reached the turnoff, she heard a horse approaching at a good clip. She moved aside and saw that it was Mr. Darcy. He stopped instantly, dismounted, and bowed. “Miss Bennet! I had not expected to see anyone out and about so early.”
His expression seemed, at the outset, to be perfectly neutral, but it was soon replaced by that severe look she detested. “Mr. Darcy,” she replied unsmilingly. “Good morning. I am often out at this hour. I am an early riser, and I find I can enjoy my walks in peace if I take them before the rest of the family is awake.” There was an awkward pause, and she filled it. “I had thought you would be gone to London by now, sir.”
“As it is a two-hour journey at most, I plan to leave shortly after breakfast. Sirdar, here, must have his morning exercise or he becomes quite a curmudgeon.” The tall bay, hearing his name, interposed his head between Elizabeth and Darcy, and Darcy rubbed it affectionately. “He is a very good fellow as long as he gets his morning gallop.” Darcy’s face relaxed into a half-smile which Elizabeth had never seen but which made him very handsome indeed.
She raised her hand. “And may I pet him.”
“Certainly. He would be honored.” This time his smile was warm and genuine.
Elizabeth removed her glove and caressed the horse’s glossy neck, enjoying the way he pushed against her hand as though asking her to continue. “I am pleased to meet you, sir. Next time I am out early, I will bring you something good to eat. A nice carrot, perhaps, or an apple.”
Darcy stood silently, admiring the fearless way in which she approached the large, spirited animal. Many women were afraid of him, and indeed he seemed to tower over Miss Bennet. “Miss Bennet, I am glad we met this morning,” he began.
Elizabeth regarded him expectantly as he paused before continuing.
“I wanted to inform you that I also plan to bring the head gardener from my house in town. It occurred to me that those climbing roses add a great deal to the charm of Rose Cottage, and I plan to ask my gardener how they can best be brought under control. I know little of roses, but it does seem that a fence should be installed. Hobbs is an expert both in the cultivation of gardens and in the design of suitable landscapes.”
“Thank you, sir. My mother, especially, will be indebted to you.”
“And do you think she would consent to meet with him?”
“I feel certain she would.”
“I will not detain you further in this cold. I will wait upon your mother when I return.” The sullen look had returned.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Have a safe journey.” Elizabeth turned, and without a backward glance, heard him ride away. She continued her walk, but her spirit was somewhat troubled. What had she ever done to merit such disapproval? Was he still so angry with her over her refusal at Hunsford that he could not endure her presence? Yet he sometimes hinted at being an entirely different man. His undertaking of the renovations could only be regarded as a kindness to her family. And there were those occasional hints of softness about his face, even a smile as he caressed his horse.
Elizabeth shook off these exasperating thoughts and continued up the lane. Her breath puffed out before her in the chilly air. When she reached the turnoff to Oakham Mount, she sat for a moment on a stump, considering. What had Jane meant yesterday, saying that he was a better man than she knew? And what secrets of his was Jane keeping? Realizing that she would be overdue for breakfast, she stood, turned, and strode briskly toward home and all that awaited her there. Her moments of peace were over for this day.
Elizabeth’s expectations of chaos went unmet that morning. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia stood in the front hall putting on cloaks, bonnets, and gloves. Kitty and Lydia wore smiles of anticipation. “Mama says we may shop for trimmings for some of our bonnets,” said Lydia.
“Within limits,” asserted Mary. “They must be black, and they must be within the bounds of good taste.” Lydia flounced.
“Be guided by Mary,” said Elizabeth. “She knows what is proper. You don’t wish to have people gossiping about you behind your backs, do you?”
“Well, of course not.”
“Then let it be a challenge to you.” Elizabeth turned to Mary. “Where is Mama?”
“She is still at breakfast. She came down a little late.”
“Thank you for taking the girls. Let us sit down and chat when you return.”
With that, the three younger sisters were out of the house. Elizabeth went into the dining room, kissed her mother, and heaped a plate with food.
“I have no idea where you put all the food you eat, Lizzy. By rights you should be as fat as a pig.”
“I burn it off, Mama. How are you feeling this morning? Did you have a good rest?”
“I must confess that I did. I was exhausted when I went to bed. When I have finished my breakfast, I will send that note over to Jane.”
“Good. I saw Mr. Darcy this morning, and—”
“He is such a disagreeable man. I cannot help wondering what he is about, assisting with the cottage as he is.”
“I believe he is doing it because Charles is his friend, Mama. But he mentioned something to me this morning that I believe may interest you. The cottage gets its name from the roses which are everywhere around it. They are dreadfully overgrown, and they have quite borne down what was once a white picket fence. Mr. Darcy- “
“Well, Lizzy, they must be pruned severely, and there is little time to lose. The job must be done properly, and it must be directed by someone who knows how to go about it.”
“Mr. Darcy is bringing the head-gardener from his house in London when he returns on Saturday. Apparently, the man knows a great deal about roses. Mr. Darcy asked if you would like to meet with him while he is here. I am sure he might have practical suggestions about the rest of the garden.” She looked at her mother, considering, and decided flattery was the best tactic. “Of course, we all anticipate that you will wish to direct the landscaping efforts.”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” her mother cried, fanning herself with her handkerchief. “I shall create a charming cottage garden. Of course, it will be different from what we have here. This is a gentleman’s estate. But the cottage will have its own rustic charm. Did you not say that the brick was the same as that used for Netherfield itself?”
“Yes, I believe so. The wood-shingled roof is to be replaced by slate.”
“Thatch would be more charming, but my dear, what it takes to maintain it! We shall do very well with slate. And that rose-colored brick will be an enchanting backdrop for the climbing roses. But Elizabeth, we must prune the rose bushes before the middle of February, or all is lost for another year. You must and shall help me see to it.”
“I promise, Mama.” Elizabeth could scarcely remember a more pleasant and practical conversation with her mother, and she was inclined to allow it to continue. She poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down. “Will you take cuttings from Longbourn, Mama?”
“Oh, of course I will, Lizzy. I did not labor for all those years on these gardens for nothing. And seeds! We will want to order seeds, and I saved many last summer not knowing about your poor father. Oh, when will I be able to see this for myself?”
“I am afraid it will be too dark this evening. I think we are all a little concerned that you will be in despair over the present condition of the cottage. I can assure you that it will al
l be set to rights, but can you enjoy looking at the grounds without becoming too distressed over the condition of the house?”
Mrs. Bennet sighed. “If I must, I must. I would like to see the grounds before I meet with this London gardener.”
“Let us ask Charles if he will take us there tomorrow morning if the weather is good.”
“I am forgetting! I must go and write to Jane immediately! I shall be at my writing-desk upstairs” Mrs. Bennet fluttered off to write her note. Elizabeth sighed and drank her coffee. She knew not how long this interval of good feeling with her mother would last, but she was inclined to take advantage of it.
Chapter 6
He guided Sirdar through a crowd of elegantly dressed people, unable to make any progress. Elizabeth suddenly stood before him, and he was barely able to avoid trampling her. Her face was pale and careworn, and she was barefoot. The black gown she wore was coarse, little better than a shift, and her hair tumbled about her shoulders. She stood, jostled and importuned by rough, shouting strangers, watching him cautiously. He saw her reach out, as if to grasp the horse’s bridle—only to snatch her hands back to her sides. Of a sudden, he reached down and lifted her to the saddle in front of him. Her long hair blew against his face, and he caught the scent of roses. He heard her voice as from a great distance. “Where are you taking me.” And as the crowd backed away from them, he kissed her lips and said, “Anywhere but here.”
✽✽✽
Darcy slept uneasily until he heard the change in the sound of the carriage wheels that indicated they were on the outskirts of London. He stopped the coachman and directed him to an address in the fashionable shopping district near his home. There he completed his purchases quickly, called for a pen, and wrote something on the back of one of his cards in his careful handwriting. Turning to the proprietor, who was waiting on him, he said, “Please arrange for this to be delivered by express. I want it in the recipient’s hands before ten o’clock tomorrow morning. And please enclose this card.” He gave the man the direction and the card. The proprietor shook his head after Darcy left, remarking to his clerk that shipping the parcel would cost more than the contents. But he was accustomed to the eccentricities of the wealthy, and the parcel was dispatched immediately.
Upon his arrival at home, Darcy paused only long enough to wash the travel dust from his hands and face. It was midafternoon. He ordered luncheon brought to his study, settled down, and began writing letters. When the letters were finished, he called a footman to dispatch them and sent for Hobbs, his head-gardener.
His conversation with Hobbs was both enlightening and reassuring. Hobbs looked at the rough sketch and plans Darcy had given him, requested a pencil and paper, and busied himself for a quarter-hour. When he sat back, he turned his own sketch so that Darcy could see it. “You see, sir, a cottage-garden should be a great deal less formal than the gardens here, or even at Pemberley. If the timing is right, we can send cuttings from Pemberley, or the ladies may have favorite plants in the gardens where they live now.” He sat back and frowned slightly. “The problem is that the roses must be pruned first, and the fence and other details cannot be added until the building is finished. When may I see it, sir?”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Hobbs. We leave after breakfast on Saturday morning. Pack what tools you need, and plan to stay as long as necessary.”
“Sir, another man would be helpful.”
“Choose one and bring him. Is there anything else you require?”
“No, sir.”
“That will be all for now, then, Hobbs. I shall rely on you to gather whom and what you require.”
Hobbs left, and Darcy rolled the gardener’s sketch into the roll with the other papers. A footman appeared bringing two notes. Josiah Moore, Builder, would wait upon Mr. Darcy at ten o’clock the next morning and appreciated the opportunity to be of service. His man of business would wait upon him on the morrow at two o’clock, as requested. The footman stayed in the room long enough to light the candles before leaving.
Darcy laid the note aside and turned to the pile of correspondence that was always waiting for him in town. He sorted through invitations that could be discarded, invitations that would require an answer, and several bills. Anything requiring a reply or a bank draft was quickly dispatched. He wrote a brief, affectionate note to Georgiana, whom he would not see during this visit, promising that they would get together the next time he was in Town. When the last shred of paper had been dealt with, he stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension that often built there during the day. A glance at the clock showed that dinner would be announced in less than a half-hour. He poured himself a small brandy and stood staring into the fire.
That night, he composed himself for sleep.
✽✽✽
She came and stood beside the bed, candle in hand, dressed in a linen nightgown with a high neck and full sleeves. Gone was the pinched, exhausted look he had seen on her face this morning. Her skin was soft and translucent, her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled. She wore an enigmatic half-smile, and her hair curled around her shoulders. As he watched, she set the candle on the nightstand, pulled back the covers, and laid herself down beside him. “I see you have left room for me,” she said, turning to burrow into his side. “How did you come to be here,” he heard himself ask. “You kissed me this morning. I wanted more kisses.”
He pulled her into his arms for an ardent kiss, feeling her soft lips yield to him, tasting her as her fingers entwined in his hair, delighting as her tongue emerged to play with his. His kisses strayed to her cheeks, her eyes, her ears, and the soft, sensitive skin between her ear and her neck. She allowed his hands to caress and his lips to explore, moving in his arms with expressions of delight.
He could not resist her. He kissed her again, more ardently, hearing her sigh with pleasure. In turn, her kisses grew more demanding as he allowed his hands to skim lightly over her flesh, feeling half-afraid that their roughness might damage the tender skin. He heard her soft moan as her arms went around him, and he raised his head to look into her dark eyes. “And will you marry me, my own Lizzy?” Her hands tangled in his hair again. “Only if you ask, Fitzwilliam. Only if you ask.”
✽✽✽
He awoke as the sunlight invaded the curtains of his room, achingly aware that his arms were empty, still conscious of his dream. As was his custom, he rose quickly and washed and dressed in a few minutes. A glance at the clock told him that there would be time for a ride and breakfast before his engagement with the builder, and within a few minutes, he was mounted on one of the horses kept for him in Town and headed for Hyde Park. At this early hour, no fashionable people were abroad, and the park was taken over by grooms employed by the wealthy to exercise their fine horses. A good gallop was permissible, and Darcy took full advantage. As his muscles began to warm and stretch with the exercise, thoughts of the dream returned to his mind. He tasted despair, for she would never have him. His arms would remain as empty in the future as they had been when he awoke.
He willed himself to relax into the sensations of his own muscles and the powerful animal beneath him, the biting cold, the frost of his breath on the still air, and the feel of the sun and the cold on his skin and his hair. After an hour, he patted the horse’s neck, slowed their pace until the animal had cooled down properly, and turned toward home, once more riding at a decorous city trot. After an injunction to the groom to walk the horse, rub him down well and check his hoofs, he went into the house for his bath and breakfast.
Darcy felt lighter in spirit than he had at the start of his ride. He had made up his mind that while Elizabeth might never be his, he was already hers, and he would be so forever. He would do whatever he could, quietly and unobtrusively, to smooth the difficult path she would follow into the future. While there was sorrow in this conclusion, there was also a measure of comfort. His mind was made up.
His meeting with Josiah Moore, the builder, was as productive as his mee
ting with Hobbs had been. After listening to the details and examining the sketches, Mr. Moore began. “As it happens, we are still in the Christmas doldrums. Work has not yet picked up, though it eventually will. I am entirely at liberty to take this on for you, sir, and I would be delighted to do so. When were you thinking of starting?”
“If your time permits, I wish you to accompany me there tomorrow morning and plan to stay a week. Let me know what you will need to bring, and if it can be accommodated in the large traveling-coach or whether we need to bring a wagon.”
“I will be ready, Mr. Darcy, and the tools I will bring will easily fit in a crate on the roof of the coach. They will primarily be surveying and marking tools. With your permission, I will bring one of my sons along, perhaps my oldest, Harry. He can assist me, and if something unforeseen occurs, he is entirely capable of handling a project of this nature.”
“By all means.” Darcy stood, and the two men shook hands. “We will leave tomorrow morning at eight o’ clock.”
Once Mr. Moore had left, Darcy ordered luncheon to be served in his study, and before he ate, he dispatched an express to Bingley informing him of who would be arriving in the morning and requesting that rooms be prepared for them. He finished his luncheon and re-read his notes, making a few additions.
Mr. Lawson, whose firm handled many of Darcy’s business affairs, was also punctual, arriving as the clock struck two. Darcy came right to the point. “I need to see to the hiring of a good steward, Mr. Lawson. The requirement is at Netherfield, the estate in Hertfordshire recently purchased by my friend, Mr. Charles Bingley. Here are the notes from my observations and as many facts as I could gather.” He handed over a large sheaf of papers. “You will see that the estate is not performing to expectations. The land is good, and the few tenants are of long standing. Many of the cottages and outbuildings are run down.” He sat back in his chair while Mr. Lawson glanced over the papers. “Mr. Bingley is young and utterly without experience in or exposure to managing an estate of any size. He would be an easy target for an unscrupulous or incompetent man. This is my chief reason for entrusting this task to you personally.”
