A Peculiar Connection

by Jan Hahn

  I gazed out at the lawn. The roses were in bloom; their reds and pinks mingled in perfect harmony with snatches of yellow sprinkled throughout. How many times had Jane and I cut roses, daisies, and marguerites, filling our baskets with their sweet perfumes, all the while talking and dreaming of young men we would someday love and marry? Jane’s dream came true, but mine…would never happen. I knew that if and when I married, it would not be for love.

  Within a fortnight, I found myself growing more and more restless. Unless I spent the day at Netherfield with Jane, I felt as though I would jump out of my skin. I knew my life would never be as it was before I went away, but I did not expect the growing dissatisfaction that coloured my moods.

  I could not find a pastime within the house that held my interest. I read and re-read my favourite books and newer editions Papá recommended. I found them dull. My sewing skills had never been celebrated, but now I had even less patience for the task than before. Kitty often sought my opinion on the latest bonnet she had refashioned, but I could find little to admire about it. After enjoying Georgiana’s musical talent, I found it ever more difficult to abide Mary’s unrelenting practice. Mamá’s constant chatter or complaints drove me to distraction while my father, naturally, hid in his study much of the day. Repeatedly, I sought release from my agitation outdoors. I walked for miles throughout the countryside and wood, but peace eluded me.

  Had Pemberley robbed me of contentment?

  Over and over, my mind strayed to that beautiful house. I wondered what colourful arrays of flowers and plants now filled the gardens there. I imagined the green of the woods and hills in summer and the carp feeding in the lake. I even saw the huge, sleek horses trotting out from the stable, eager to run in the steady warmth of the summer sun. And I thought of him…

  Without fail, Mr. Darcy intruded on my thoughts each day no matter my attempts to banish him. I could see his dark curls fall across his forehead and the dimple in his cheek when he smiled, and try as I might, I could not rid myself of the memory of the light in his eyes when he turned in my direction. Would I never be free of those feelings?

  One day, when despair overtook my spirit, I wandered deeper and deeper into the wood some distance from Longbourn. Before I knew it, I came upon the pond hidden within the leafy glade where I had happened upon Mr. Darcy all those months before. I could still see him pacing to and fro, all the while muttering angry oaths—oaths that I knew were brought about by knowledge of my birth. I wondered whether Lady Catherine had any idea of the horror her revelation caused her nephew. She cared naught whether her words tore my world apart, but did she not regret the anguish she brought upon Mr. Darcy?

  Of course not! She accomplished what she set out to do.

  I sighed at the remembrance of her superior indignation and felt my cheeks burn anew as her accusations rang in my ears. Suddenly, the summer heat seemed oppressive. I untied the ribbons of my bonnet and flung it down beside a group of rocks at the water’s edge. I stepped lightly across the flatter stones and settled into my familiar place on the largest rock. The creek appeared cool and inviting. I looked over my shoulder and canvassed the surrounding trees and heavy foliage. Alone and hidden from the world, I slipped off my shoes and stockings.

  How refreshing the cold water felt as I dipped my toes therein. I closed my eyes in pleasure and imagined myself bathing in such pleasant surroundings. Another look backward assured me that no one would discover my private Eden, and so I slipped down from the rock, being careful to lift my skirts to my knees so that I could wade in the shallow water close by the shore.

  The stone-lined creek bottom proved slippery, but I enjoyed the feeling of the mud in between the slates as it crept between my toes. I lifted my head to the green branches above. The trees over the pond had grown tall and full so that their branches met overhead, providing a natural veil against the summer sun. My mood lightened as I ventured further from the rock on which I had sat.

  Ah, I thought, closing my eyes, what heavenly bliss!

  I stood with my face lifted to the sun and then shifted slightly to the right to feel its warmth on my cheeks. I was at peace with the world for the first time in many days…until out of the corner of my eye, I thought I detected a sudden movement in the wooded area. My pulse began to race. Was it a deer, or had I been discovered? As I turned to investigate, my feet slipped out from under me, and with a great, noisy splash, I sat down in the water. Hard.

  “Oh!” I floundered about, awkwardly trying to stand. In dismay, I heard a twig snap in two.

  Looking up, I saw Mr. Darcy on the bank, hands on hips and an inquisitive expression upon his face. “Elizabeth?”

  Oh no, not him! Not now!

  I struggled to find a way to compose myself and, in doing so, succeeded in splashing a great amount of water in my face. “Sir, I…I did not hear you approach.”

  “Obviously.”

  With difficulty, I managed to rise to my knees. “How long—that is—when did you arrive in Hertfordshire?”

  A lock of wet hair fell across one eye. Where had that come from? I fumed as I tucked it behind my ear. Then I cringed as I realized that several long tresses had worked their way loose from the knot I wore. What a fright I must appear!

  “Late last night. I am staying with Bingley, of course.”

  “Of course.” At last, I managed to secure my feet beneath me, and I stood up, but I wondered how I would ever return to the bank with any semblance of dignity.

  “I confess this scene fills me with surprise. I wonder: did you enter the water willingly, or did you possibly slip off this big rock as easily as you fell down in the pond?”

  I glared at him.

  “Do you often come here to wade, and if so, did you not think to bring along a towel?”

  “No, sir, I have never waded here. I simply…found myself in the water.”

  “You found yourself in the water. I see. And…precisely how did that happen? It seems exceedingly fortunate that before you slipped—I assume you slipped—you had opportunity to remove not only your slippers, but your stockings as well.” He gestured toward the evidence lying conspicuously upon the rock.

  Once again, I glared at him. “In truth, I…well, I was already in the water before I fell.”

  “In the water…so you did not fall after all?”

  “Not off the rock, but I said I fell, and I did…after I was in the water.” Is he deliberately being tiresome? “Surely, you saw it yourself, for it was the shock of your appearance that startled me and caused me to stumble.”

  “Ah, I see. It is all my fault. Do forgive me.” To my utter consternation, he seated himself on the rock, folded his arms, and smiled as though he thoroughly enjoyed my discomposure. “Tell me, Elizabeth, can you swim?”

  I frowned and looked away. “A bit.”

  “So, I need not concern myself with saving you if you should, say, step into a deeper hole out there?”

  “You need not concern yourself with saving me at all, sir.” I began to wade back toward the rocks.

  He chuckled and stood up. “’Tis a pity, for that water tempts me. Is it as cool and refreshing as it appears?”

  I stopped short. Oh no, surely not!

  “It is much too cold, sir,” I said quickly. “I fear you would find it most displeasing.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I think the lady would keep her charming pleasure all to herself.” Kneeling, he cupped his hand into the stream. “Ah, I see why you gave in to such an impulse. The water is truly delightful.” He straightened and resumed his seat on the rock.

  Oh, how I wished he would go! At length, I had to speak. “Sir, are you not ready to leave?”

  “Leave? Not in the least. I find this a shady reprieve from the summer sun. Besides, you may need my assistance. Crawling up the riverbank may not be as easy as crawling in.”

  He leaned over and held out his hand to me, favouring me with a broad smile. I felt my vexation begin to fade, for I found it impossible to
remain peevish with him.

  Once I had planted my feet on dry ground, Mr. Darcy took off his jacket and placed it about my shoulders. When I protested, saying the garment would become damp, he would not hear of it. Declaring it of little inconvenience if it kept me from having a chill, he turned his back and walked a short distance away. He feigned interest in surveying the surrounding scenery while I wrung the water from my skirts. With nothing to dry my feet, I forcibly pulled on my stockings and shoes.

  Oh, why did I ever give in to such foolishness and step into that creek?

  I looked up to see Mr. Darcy pick up a handful of stones and begin skipping them across the top of the water as he had done on the previous occasion when we met at the pond.

  “I would think you must allow time for your frock to dry before you return to Longbourn,” he said. “Do you not agree?” Still embarrassed, I did not answer. “Elizabeth? Are you respectable, or must we converse back to back from now on?”

  I could not help but smile. “I hardly consider myself respectable, but we may speak face to face.”

  He turned around. “Good. I do not practice the art of skipping stones well when forced to do so with my left hand.”

  “I would say you do exceptionally well, sir.”

  He walked toward me. “Have you ever tried it?”

  “Skipping stones? No, sir.”

  “It is very simple. I should be pleased to teach you.” When I demurred, stating it was a man’s sport, he shrugged and stepped up on the large rock before sailing another stone across the body of the pond. A whisper of a tap echoed three times as it skimmed the surface before vanishing into the creek with a single plop.

  “If you had grown up at Pemberley, I should have taught you. After all, we are brother and sister, are we not?” When I did not answer, he turned his eyes upon me. “Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, of course, but still—” I felt uncomfortable in his presence, and I shuddered to think of my appearance. I had no intention of attempting to learn how to skip stones when I resembled a half-drowned cat whose hair sticks out in every direction. I preferred to sit turned partly aside from him.

  “Oh, I see. You did not grow up with a brother. Be assured that, if you had, I would have taught you many skills just as I did Georgiana.”

  “Like skipping stones across the lake. My, my, your sister is most compassionate. She has never once pointed out my deficiency in that area or the severe social disadvantages I shall suffer for lack thereof.”

  In the midst of taking aim, Mr. Darcy lowered his arm and cocked his eyebrow, as he fixed his eyes upon me. “You mock, but there are advantages to having an older brother.”

  “I do not doubt it, sir,” I said, attempting an innocent tone.

  “I believe you do. I believe you doubt that I could teach you anything.”

  “Not at all,” I said softly. “I believe you could teach me a great number of things.”

  I raised my eyes to his and saw them darken. He took a deep breath before we both looked away. He sat down on the rock, leaving ample room between us, and simply tossed the stones into the pond one by one. We said nothing more for a while. The gentle play of water lapping against the bank proved somehow comforting as the heat of the sun warmed my skin. I was surprised at the peace that flowed into my spirit. It was as though no one else existed in the world. At length, I ventured to turn and catch a glimpse of him only to find his eyes upon me.

  “Do you wish you had grown up at Pemberley, Elizabeth?”

  His question caught me off guard. “Hardly, sir. My position would have been precarious, to say the least. Besides, it never would have transpired.”

  “It might have if my father had remained true to his principles. If he had acknowledged his role as your father, he could have reared you as his daughter. Men of much higher status frequently do so in like situations.”

  “I beg to differ. A gentleman may allow his natural daughter a place in his household, but she would never enjoy an equal position with his lawful daughter. I would not wish for that experience.”

  He sighed. “I would not wish it for you. It is just that I wonder how it might have been between us if we had shared a childhood.”

  “You doubtless would have resented me. I cannot imagine you enjoying the interruptions that a sister eight years your junior would have caused, especially one like me—curious, saucy, meddlesome.”

  He smiled. “True. Your impertinence would have tried my patience. Still…I wish I had seen what you looked like as a little girl.”

  “Snaggle-toothed and freckled. Not a pretty sight.”

  “Ah, then I am most fortunate to have been spared such an onslaught upon my senses since I, of course, have been handsome from birth.”

  “Undoubtedly. And modest as well—a model child,” I declared, laughing aloud, although silently I imagined that he most likely had never been anything but beautiful.

  Again, we enjoyed a compatible silence. It was as though we were at such ease with each other that we had no need for words. It was just enough to be together in that beautiful retreat.

  “I wonder,” he said at length, “where you would be today if you had grown up as my sister.”

  “Certainly not here.”

  “Why not? Bingley is my friend; thus, you would have met him. He would have purchased Netherfield, and we would have visited him. Of course, Bingley might have engaged himself to you by that time.” He looked up and fixed a stare upon me as though he wished to see how I would take to the suggestion.

  “If he did, I should have been cast aside once he met Jane at the assembly ball.”

  “You think that, do you?”

  I sighed. “Why should we discuss this, sir? You know as well as I do that Mr. Bingley would never have married me, considering the unfortunate circumstance of my birth. No gentleman could.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that Fitzwilliam seriously considered asking for your hand?”

  I closed my eyes in dismay. Must we return to the situation that had caused both of us such pain?

  “When last at Pemberley, he appeared smitten by your charms.”

  “If he was smitten by anything, it was the prospect of persuading you to grant me an ample dowry.”

  “I do not need persuasion, Elizabeth. I told you I am more than willing to settle a dowry upon you if you will accept it.”

  I frowned. “Are you so eager to see me marry?”

  “Of course not, and certainly not to Fitzwilliam!” He picked up another rock and hurled it far out into the pond. The noisy splash caused the jays in the cypress trees to flutter from the branches.

  “I do not understand why we are having this conversation, sir. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s attentions to me were dependent upon the belief that we are cousins. If he or any other gentleman learns the truth, marriage proposals will no longer be forthcoming.”

  I rose, wishing to change the subject. I murmured something about my skirt beginning to dry and my need to return to Longbourn. He stood and held out his hand, guiding me down from the rocks until we reached the soft grass below, whereupon I returned his jacket.

  “I am surprised to learn of your visit to Netherfield, sir, for Jane failed to mention that you were coming.”

  “I confess I arrived without notice, a boorish action on my part now that Bingley is married. I must mend my manners and write for an invitation from now on.”

  “I trust Georgiana is well. Did you leave her at Eden Park?”

  “No, I brought her with me.”

  I smiled with delight. “I shall take pleasure in seeing her once more.”

  “She is impatient for your company as well, and she wishes to become better acquainted with your younger sisters.”

  “I know they will be glad to visit with her.”

  “Shall I bring her tomorrow? Would that be convenient?”

  “Certainly. I cannot help but wonder, however, what brings you to the country. Surely, it is not just for Georgiana’s sake.” />
  “We will stay at Netherfield but a week or so and then depart for Bath to visit my aunt. I still hope to persuade you to join us and make the trip, too.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Do not answer today. Just think on it, Elizabeth. That is all I ask. Have you ever been to Bath?” I shook my head. “It is a lovely place but fifteen miles from Bristol. I think you would find it diverting, and perchance my aunt may shed light on some of our questions.”

  Oh, why must we speak of that again?

  “You forget. I have no more questions. You are the one who remains dissatisfied.”

  “If you had known our father, perhaps your curiosity would not yet be appeased. I tell you, Elizabeth, I must know why a man of his standing, who obviously adored my mother, would stoop to such degradation.”

  I stopped short. “Degradation!” After the pleasant afternoon we have enjoyed together, will you actually use that term? “You forget yourself, sir, for my mother was of more noble birth than your father.”

  “You misunderstand. I chose the wrong word.”

  “You did indeed. Excuse me, I must return to Longbourn at once.”

  I whirled around and walked swiftly into the wood. I heard him call my name, but I paid no attention, never slowing my pace in the slightest. So it was true; in spite of all his fine words and protestations to the contrary, Mr. Darcy did consider me a humiliation and reproach upon his family’s name. I almost reached the edge of the wood before he caught my hand.

  “Must you twist what I say and accuse me of offence so often? I meant no slur upon your mother.”

  I struggled to free my hand, but he held my wrist firmly and refused to let go.

  “No, Elizabeth, I shall not release you until we settle this.”

  “It can never be settled!”

  “It can if you will remove the blinders from your eyes and see the truth.”

  “I see perfectly well, sir. My vision is without fault, and for that matter, so is my hearing.”

  “But your understanding is not! How can I make you grasp that I would not intentionally do or say anything to hurt you?”