Henry

by Christie Capps

  She must have made a sound because the man looked up, then approached the foot of the staircase.

  “Is Henry here?”

  “Henry? No, not at all,” her hand at her chest, Elizabeth looked around as if the puppy would magically appear. Running back to her room, she stuffed her feet into her walking boots and grabbed a shawl. The puppy needed to be found.

  When she quickly rejoined Mr. Darcy, he was speaking with her father.

  “Longbourn was the first place I searched since he has made this his destination of choice each morning since he discovered your daughter. I called for him all three miles from Netherfield with no response.”

  The man’s brow was furrowed. His hat suffered from his tight grip on the brim. His concern was deep and justified. Henry was a valuable animal, and he was Mr. Darcy’s little friend.

  “Allow me to accompany you, sir.” Mr. Bennet reached for his outer garments as Hill brought them from the closet. “There are a few abandoned wells at the far corner of the border between Mr. Bingley’s property and mine. My men will bring ropes.”

  As Mr. Darcy nodded his agreement, Hill opened the door to the faint sounds of a happy puppy moving closer to the house. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy rushed outside in time to see a waterlogged Henry burst through the hedgerow lining the driveway. Knowing what was to come, Elizabeth stepped behind Mr. Darcy, pulling her skirt tight against her legs.

  The muddy debris from the puppy’s enthusiastic shaking covered the man from the tips of his Hessians up to the waist of his greatcoat.

  “He must have discovered the pond,” Elizabeth’s father worried. “It is no place for a puppy.”

  Moving out from behind the man, Elizabeth speculated his ire at having his fastidiously arranged clothing brought to ruin by a puppy would be intense. Surprisingly, she was wrong.

  Kneeling to capture Henry’s face between his palms, Mr. Darcy ran his hands over the messy animal to quickly reassure himself the puppy was unharmed. Elizabeth admitted to herself she would have done the same as her first priority.

  Accepting a cloth from Hill, Mr. Darcy wrapped Henry tightly, holding him close to his chest. Giving a nod to Elizabeth and her father, he mounted his great beast using only the one hand, then settled the puppy in front of him.

  “Pray pardon our interruption, Mr. Bennet. I shall return your linen after it has been laundered.”

  “No bother,” Elizabeth’s father waved it off as completely unnecessary. “A bit of mischief never hurt anyone, I believe.”

  The corner of Mr. Darcy’s mouth lifted into a hint of a smile. Touching the brim of his hat, his head tilted slightly towards her.

  “Miss Elizabeth, I…” his statement remained unfinished as Henry barked his own farewell. “Yes, well, I…shall be off.”

  Shaking her head slowly, wondering what he had been about to say, her eyes followed his broad shoulders as he rode away from Longbourn.

  “Lizzy, whatever is going on between you and that man?” her father inquired.

  “I hardly know,” she admitted, completely confused by the events of the past several days. Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley and owner of who knew how many other properties, grandson of an earl, and scion of the first circles seemed to be controlling his acerbic tongue when in her presence. Who knew it was a feat he was capable of accomplishing? Apparently, miracles still were possible.

  Chapter 4

  Elizabeth woke to the now familiar yips of the little dog. Henry! Again, dressing quickly, she met him at the front door with a bowl of water Hill offered. The puppy lapped appreciatively, though his manners suffered. By the time he lifted his head, water dripped from his chin onto her boots.

  Her night had been short. The Thorn and the Rose had taken a dark turn. Lord Goodrich and Lady Violet were in danger. One of the footmen at Connelly castle had gone to the Laird with tales of Lord Goodrich’s suspicious activity. Both Lady Violet and the British spy had been captured and locked together in a cottage, their hands and feet bound with no available weapons to use to gain their freedom and escape.

  Using the last of her candle, Elizabeth had read until she could see no more. Her imagination fueled her wakefulness for hours as she worried over the plight of the characters. With each turn of the page she was becoming as enamored of Lord Goodrich as was Lady Violet. True love had to prevail, it just had to!

  Henry ran ahead of her as she followed the pathway heading towards Netherfield Park. Grateful it was a familiar walk, Elizabeth conjured a picture of the hero and heroine in her mind. Though dressed in clothing from an earlier period, it was several moments before she realized Lord Goodrich looked remarkably similar to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy! How on earth had her thinking traveled in that direction?

  Unfortunately, the man himself appeared ahead of her in the flesh. Inhaling deeply, she cleared her mind of the nonsense leftover from the book. Elizabeth was not shocked to see him, as each morning so far, he had traveled in search of his dog.

  On this particular morning, his countenance was far from calm. He transferred the reins from hand to hand, clearing his throat several times.

  Whatever was wrong with Mr. Darcy?

  Approaching him, she curtseyed.

  “Good morning,” Elizabeth greeted him with what sounded to her like a question.

  “Yes, good morning.”

  He briefly looked up at the sky as if petitioning divine help. She had no clue what he was about. Finally, he looked directly at her.

  His eyes were dark, fringed with long, thick lashes. As she watched him dismount, the irises appeared to grow until his gaze went from cool to warm. Elizabeth shivered.

  “Let us walk, Miss Elizabeth, or you will suffer from the chill.”

  She had to ask, “Are you well?”

  “Yes,” he admitted as his shoulders dropped. “No.” He glanced at her as he stepped alongside Elizabeth to accompany her on the path. At first, Henry ran around their legs before darting off to his favorite spot in the field.

  “You are not well?” she teased. What was happening to this poor man?

  He stopped their progress and faced her. “Are you familiar with Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  “I am,” Elizabeth replied, wondering why he inquired. It simply was not popular for females to concern themselves with literature of centuries past. She was surprised he did not assume she knew nothing about the tale. “In my ninth year I was enamored of the characters. To my father’s chagrin, I called our rooster Chanticleer.”

  He smiled. “In the Nun’s Priest’s Tale, the sly fox was a col-fox or a colle,” Darcy shifted his weight onto one leg, propping the other on a boulder on the pathway’s edge. “The shepherds of Scotland call this breed of dog a colle.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth’s mind spun to comprehend his meaning. What was he about? “They are known for their intelligence.”

  “My point, exactly,” he nodded. “Henry does not like Miss Bingley,” he offered. “Nor does he care for Mrs. Hurst.”

  “I am sorry to hear this about Henry not holding them dear, especially if they are important to you, sir,” Elizabeth truthfully stated, confused at why he would mention this detail to her.

  “I have no attachment,” he bluntly stated. “Nevertheless, his affection for you is obvious, as nothing I have attempted thus far has prevented Henry from running off to find you each morning,”

  Easily heard was his frustration. She had many frustrations of her own, none of which was whether or not Mr. Darcy’s dog got on with the Bingley sisters. In fact, she wondered at the man’s intelligence at bringing up the subject.

  “My point is this, Miss Elizabeth.” He removed his hat and ran his free hand through his hair. “I trust Henry’s opinion. He has found good in you that I failed to see.”

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “Are you trying to anger me, or do you simply not care?”

  “No, no, I am not trying to raise your ire at all.” He rubbed his hand over his mou
th. “Might I tell you a story in hopes it will clarify my intent?”

  “Pray, do,” her tone was far from conciliatory. She found him the oddest man of her acquaintance.

  When he gestured to a stile along the fence line, Elizabeth, with Henry frolicking around her feet, walked to the wooden steps and sat. Surprisingly, he tied the reins to the fence and also took a seat.

  “When I was a lad, my closest playmate was the son of Pemberley’s steward. George Wickham had all the appearance of goodness. My father, who accepted our steward’s son as his own godson, never knew that behind his friendly manner was an unparalleled evil.”

  Elizabeth waited as he paused, staring blindly out over the field. Henry, discerning his master’s turmoil, begged to be lifted. When Mr. Darcy bent and brought the puppy to his lap, the man held him closely, slowly stroking his fur.

  “Long before school, when I was four years of age, I became very attached to one of Pemberley’s farm dogs. He was of mixed breed and was an excellent hunter. My parents never allowed animals into our home, so I spent as much time as possible with General.”

  “A noble name,” she teased.

  “Yes, his looks were completely unremarkable, but his character was the best.” Darcy sighed. “The dog and I were inseparable. By the time I was ready to leave for Eton, General was in his sixteenth year of life. While his spirit was strong, his body was filled with aches and pains.”

  “A valiant creature.” Elizabeth thought to make his story easier, for she suspected from his posture it would not end well.

  He nodded. “General had always avoided George like the boy had a plague. I never understood why the dog would growl and bare his teeth if Wickham got too close.” Mr. Darcy pulled the puppy even closer to his chest. Henry rested there without complaint. “That is, until the week before we were scheduled to leave for school. Father required longer periods of study for me in subjects I would be exposed to at Eton.” His voice quieted as the pitch deepened. “I finished my assignments early and ran outside to the barn. The plan was for Wickham and me to fish in the stream close to the swimming hole. However, I heard terrible sounds coming from the inside of the shed where General slept. I ran as quickly as my legs could carry me only to round the corner and find…”

  “Sir, you do not have to continue.” Evidence of the agony he suffered from the memory was clear. His brow furrowed, his breathing quickened, and the corded muscles above his cravat were taut.

  “He was beating and jabbing General with a long handle from one of the rakes. There was no reason. General had never done him any harm.” Mr. Darcy momentarily glanced away from her. “During the few days that remained before Eton, I made as thorough of an investigation as was possible for a boy of thirteen and found a litany of crimes Wickham had committed in the small village outside our estate. He had done it all—theft, harassment of younger boys, mistreatment of young girls in a way no male should ever treat a female, drunkenness, and worse.”

  “Mr. Darcy…,” Elizabeth knew not how to comfort him, nor whether he would accept it if she offered.

  She wanted to provide solace to this man? What was she about?

  “You see, Miss Elizabeth, General knew what he was like. He did not have to witness Wickham’s evil proclivities to understand he was up to no good. The rest of us, the humans, were oblivious.”

  “Did General…?” Elizabeth hesitated to ask.

  “Recover?” Darcy sighed. “He did not. I helped dig his grave the day prior to my leaving for Berkshire.”

  “Pray, accept my sincerest condolences, sir.” Her words were kindly meant. No man, no matter how rude, should suffer the loss of such an animal to an irresponsible act of violence. “And, the steward’s son?”

  “I do not know his current location. I have every reason to believe his character is unchanged.” Darcy’s chin dropped. He inhaled deeply and continued, “Not three months ago, he attempted to destroy an innocent who was not yet sixteen. By happenstance, I stumbled across them and was able to stop him from doing permanent harm.”

  “I am very sorry to hear this.” Elizabeth’s heart ached for the unknown girl. Females of every social position were often left vulnerable and unprotected. Would that the Bennet sisters have had an older brother to look after them, they all of them would feel more secure.

  “Thank you.” He finally turned towards her. “Again, my reason for telling you of General and Wickham was so you comprehend the weight I give little Henry’s perception of people. He has, in a short period of time, become entirely devoted to you.”

  “That he has.” Elizabeth reached over and tickled under the puppy’s chin.

  Elizabeth was suddenly uncomfortable. She was not the only human Henry held in affection. The puppy was currently licking the underside of Mr. Darcy’s chin, rubbing his nose between his neckcloth and jaw. Had the dog sensed something good in the most arrogant man Elizabeth had ever met? Oh, no! She hoped not. Or, did she?

  “Last evening, I reviewed every exchange we have had from the assembly in Meryton until yesterday. I am now ashamed of my conduct. Those were not the words of a gentleman. I accept you were truthful when you denied any interest in me.”

  “I am…pleased?”

  “As I had mentioned soon after we met, I am not looking for a marriage mate at this time. My father died five years ago, leaving me the responsibility of our properties along with the task of guardian to my young sister. I plan not to marry until I am thirty.” He looked at her closely. “What I am looking for…what I am hoping for…is a friend.”

  After giving her a moment to ponder, Mr. Darcy set Henry on the ground to chase the few grasshoppers who had survived the chilly mornings. Then he relaxed his shoulders and plucked a shaft of the wheat leftover from the harvest, tearing the leaves and grain from the stalk.

  A friend? Elizabeth’s personality welcomed the opportunity while her brain screamed at her to exercise caution. Finally, she offered, “You are safe from me.”

  She meant her words with her whole heart. Despite his apology, he still was the last man on earth she would ever be presumed upon to marry, Henry or no Henry.

  Chapter 5

  The noise level when she entered Longbourn made her ears ring.

  “Officers!” both Kitty and Lydia squealed like the weaner piglets born in early spring.

  Lydia’s almost sixteen-year-old voice sounded childlike as she informed her mother that the newly arrived militia included handsome Mr. Denny, Captain Carter, Mr. Chamberlayne, and the soon-to-be enlisted Mr. W…”

  Elizabeth’s father stuck his head out from his study, beckoning her to enter so she gratefully missed the last of Lydia’s comment. When she was seated across from him in a cozy leather chair, Mr. Thomas Bennet asked for her opinion of Mr. Darcy and his puppy.

  “Lizzy, your mother is insisting she will never speak with you if you do not attempt to capture Mr. Darcy as a husband by using little Henry as a means to keep the man close,” he chuckled. “However, since I know you hate the man, I will never speak to you if you do.”

  Despite Elizabeth’s awareness of her father’s temperament, she believed this was neither the time nor the subject for a joke. “Papa, pray do not tease.” She caught his gaze and refused to look away.

  “Yes, yes, Lizzy,” he waved his hand at her as if to brush a pesky fly that had wandered too close. “If we do not find a measure of humor amidst those closest to us, then how are we to go on?”

  “Papa, please,” Elizabeth begged. While she had no idea of the exact explanation for her feelings towards their neighbor, she knew she had to offer something.

  “I did despise him for his comment about my appearance that first evening. It was grievous,” she confessed. “Yet, I wondered at an amiable gentleman such as Mr. Bingley being willing to spend months at a time in the same household as Mr. Darcy. I wondered at Henry’s happy countenance finding pleasure in Mr. Darcy’s company. And I wondered if it was possible that someone with Mr. Darcy’s innate ar
rogance was capable of being properly humbled. As it is, he apologized for his unkind remarks.”

  Now, it was her father’s eyes drilling into hers. She owned no shame with the truth.

  “Are you attracted to him, Lizzy? Are you out of your mind? How can this be?”

  “Papa! Why, if I might ask, have you leapt to this conclusion? Have you been married so long to our mother that your thinking runs parallel with hers? Are you hunting for any opportunity to attach your daughters to whomever is available to secure your future? Is this to be your latest sport?”

  “Now, now, Lizzy,” he lifted his palms in peace. “Pray, do not be disturbed by my poor attempts at understanding your relationship with the man.”

  “Be assured that it is not Mr. Darcy who holds my interest.” The words flowed quickly from her mouth, though the pricking of her conscience silently accused her of an inclination towards dishonesty. Mr. Darcy had held her interest when he spoke of General. He held her interest when his large hands caressed his puppy in concern. Her attitude had undergone a change from intense hatred to a measure of interest, indeed. However, none of this would she share with her father.

  “Henry has decided he wants to spend as much time with me as he does his master,” Elizabeth said. “Being like Lu in appearance and personality, I will admit to falling in love with the animal instantly. Be that as it may, the puppy has discovered a means of escape early each morning and has met me in the fields. When Mr. Darcy has come to retrieve him, we have had brief opportunities of discussion. He has absolutely no interest in me as a bride. I have no interest in him as a husband, as well.”

  “Has anyone been witness to your indiscretions?” Mr. Bennet calmly inquired.

  “Indiscretions? Papa!”

  He put his palm up to stop her. “Bear with me, Lizzy. While I have no worries that you are attempting to sneak behind me to have private meetings with an unattached male, that is, indeed, what you have been doing, is it not?”