by Ted Bader
“Are you guessing your father?” Sir Thomas asked as the group laughed again.
Maria remained quiet with a smile.
“What is fire?” Andrew asked.
“Correct,” was his father’s reply.
“Tell me the following. . . the man who made it didn’t use it, the man who bought it didn’t want it, the man who got it didn’t know it.”
The group murmured over this one with several incorrect guesses ventured. Finally, Elizabeth ventured, “What is a ‘coffin’?”
As Mr. Darcy nodded affirmatively, the group again applauded. Several members amicably murmured “favoritism” to Elizabeth as she batted at them with her closed fan.
Regaining their attention, Mr. Darcy continued, “One final riddle as a tie breaker to the three correct guessers. . . What is it–the more you take away, the larger it becomes?”
The entire assembly was perplexed.
Mr. Paul Westbrook finally asked, “What is a ‘hole’?”
“Mr. Paul Westbrook, you have given the correct answer,” Mr. Darcy announced. Applause went up from the group before Mr. Darcy continued, “Sir Thomas, what would you name as the prize for our wise clergyman-to-be?”
“My lady has suggested the country scene painting by Gainsborough, which is hanging over the mantel.”
Everyone took a moment thinking about the implication of the prize from Lady Staley’s life; and, then, the group roared with approval and clapped their hands. As the applause died down, Mr. Paul Westbrook bowed and said, “I am honored with such a celebrated painting. If I take a curacy away from Derbyshire, it will serve to remind me of many excellent friends here.”
The festivities continued until 2 a.m. when a very tired Sarah asked Sir Thomas, “When are we to return to Staley Hall?”
“We are going to stay at Pemberley tonight and leave after breakfast. Ask Mrs. Reynolds where you are to sleep.”
“Good,” was Sarah’s tired response as she headed to find Mrs. Reynolds.
Chapter Twenty
During the late morning breakfast, the members of the Darcy and Staley family appeared not quite awake. Maria’s eyes instantly flashed a meaningful look at Sarah when a servant proclaimed, “Mr. Paul Westbrook.”
The former army officer walked into the room and announced, “The painting is safe at the rectory.”
Maria stood up, walked over to him and curtseyed. He bowed smoothly as he kissed her hand. Maria said, “Thank you for your return call. Shall we walk in the south gardens?”
“I shall be honored. The day is as beautiful as my company.”
Sarah was pleased to see Maria leave the breakfast room with her hand secured in Paul Westbrook’s arm.
She was taken by surprise when Andrew’s voice behind her said, “Good morning, Sarah.”
She turned and saw Andrew smiling. He continued, “If you are finished with your breakfast, perhaps you will take a turn with me in the garden?”
“I shall be happy to do so,” was her honest reply.
A hundred yards from the steps of Pemberley, they walked through an archway of ivy into a nursery of seedling stock that covered nearly an acre.”
“Andrew, I do not remember seeing this.”
“Of course, I have been working on this since you have been in Paris. Mr. Taylor, whom you see slowly coming towards us, is an invaluable assistant. As we walk this path you will see apple trees, peach trees and plum trees.” Mr. Taylor approached and greeted them. Is this the Miss Sarah Bingley I have heard about?”
She nodded. “Mr. Taylor is an old friend of my grandfather’s; they were in the same regiment. He lived here for years with my grandfather and returned a few years ago to be welcomed by my father. He wishes to live near the servant’s quarters, but he is counted as a family friend.”
“Thank you, Andrew,” said the elderly man who had a trowel in his dirt-covered hand.
Mr. Taylor eyed her and said, “This is much the way Andrew’s grandfather kept the nursery.” He then proceeded to give a tour of the seedling arbor.
“Mr. Andrew is the director of the garden.”
“Please don’t downplay your loving care and practical expertise in cultivating the greenery.”
“Aye, but your knowledge of new species has expanded my experience. Mr. Andrew is one of the finest botanists in the country.”
As they turned the corner, they saw a small girl, perhaps ten years of age, amongst a bed of beautiful pink roses. She was clipping flowers and placing them in her bag.
Sarah thought the little girl might be in for a reprimand, but the girl came up to Sarah and handed her a rose before darting off.
“Andrew, tell me about the girl.”
“That’s the daughter of Mrs. Lundy, who has been quite ill. She comes to our garden to pick roses to sell in the village to raise money for her family.”
“I am glad to see you allow her in.”
“Allow her in?” chuckled Andrew, “why old Taylor here, often shows her the best flowers to take.”
The tour of the garden encompassed several hours, with Andrew and Sarah discussing all of the species present. They finally came to a wooden bench in the nursery, which was shaded by an arch of ivy. Mr. Taylor left them.
In the weeks to follow, Sarah’s mind and soul often returned to the hour which ensued. She and Andrew spoke amiably about the nursery and the neighborhood and she shared her thoughts about returning from Paris. The light perfume wafting from the roses made time pass all the more pleasantly. Before they arose, she glanced at the wooden arm of the bench and noticed the name “Sarah” carved into the wood. Could this be her name or some other Sarah? She knew of no other women in the parish with her name.
Did Andrew secretly guide her to see it? In later rumination, she realized the carving was quite old, perhaps dating before her small-pox. In any case, the pleasant connotation associated with such a discovery often returned to her, though she frequently tried to discount its symbolic importance.
As they stood, Andrew said, “The afternoon is fine and I would like some exercise. Would you consider walking back to Staley Hall and allow me to be your escort?”
Sarah’s heart filled with tenderness as she looked at her handsome companion and said, “I would like to very much. Let us return to tell those at Pemberley and be off.”
As the twosome returned from Pemberley and passed the garden nursery, Andrew pointed out one of his favorite spots by the lake. “See the bench there. . . under the chestnut tree? I like to sort botanical specimens there. It also gives a very good view of the nearby hill and its top, Becker’s point.”
“Your tone of voice makes the trail sound special.”
“It is. I remember at age nine seeing Thomas and Georgiana descend from Becker’s point after their long separation; I ran from here into the hall to tell everyone about it.”
“I see,” Sarah replied. She was pleased at Andrew’s happy countenance; so much so, that she began wondering if his conversation and outing possessed deeper meaning, perhaps romance. She tried to push away such pleasant thoughts and felt chagrined at having them. Andrew is only a friend. I will only frustrate myself if I allow any further ideas to develop.
The climb of a half mile to Becker’s point was filled with ruminations about her relationship with her sister and with Andrew. Andrew was quiet until the ascent was finished.
They looked upon the southern valley of Pemberley where Andrew pointed out many of the landmarks. Turning north towards Staley Hall, Sarah helped him identify several features he was uncertain about. The breeze was mild and refreshing.
Sarah could see Staley Hall about a half mile away. The tenant’s cottages and the short bridge as the trail crossed the small stream at the base of the hill. Andrew interrupted her gaze by saying, “I wish I could stay up here forever.”
“So do I. This spot is so peaceful,” she sighed. “I think being able to see home makes it a very comfortable place as well.”
“Perhaps th
at is part of the enchantment of this spot.” He took his handkerchief and dusted a spot on the large, flat rock. “Shall we sit and enjoy the view for awhile?”
“That sounds delightful.”
They enjoyed a companionable silence as they looked out over the two estates. The softness of the shaded area and a fresher breeze began to lighten the sultry air. Sarah said, “From up here one gets a better perspective of the beautiful addition your trees have been to the area.”
“It does seem like the trees have proliferated profusely; but, then, you must remember that my grandfather began the tradition.”
“Yes. What beauty it adds to both our homes.”
“This is such a wonderful day,” cried Sarah and without thinking she added, “It is a pity that you and I were not lovers, to enjoy it thus alone together!”
After a moment, Sarah realized the import of her innocent statement and hastily added, “I meant it as an idea for my next novel.”
She thought she detected Andrew regaining composure as he answered with great self-possession, “I make no pretensions to the character of a lover; but if you allow me to converse with you like a friend, that will do as well.”
Playfully she replied, “Oh, the very worst substitute possible; for the conversation of lovers is all complaisance, whereas I find friends meaning to ask something I do not wish to tell, or to tell something I do not wish to hear.”
She could not believe what she had just said. A character in her current composition made such a statement. Was her make-believe world of fiction over-shadowing reality?
She wondered if he was going to say anything else, but he remained quiet. After a minute, he continued, “I suppose we should descend.” And so they did. As they were going past the last outcropping of rock at the base of the hill, two large men, with black hoods covering their heads, accosted them.
“We seek donations.”
“Tis a funny way to request donations,” Andrew reparteed as he moved in front of Sarah.
“Give us your purse and we might let you go.”
“Here it is,” Andrew replied throwing it at their feet.
“An arrogant, uppity fellow,” the shorter man growled and proceeded to assault Andrew. Andrew pushed him back; the other advanced. Fisticuffs went back and forth, but the two men began subduing Andrew.
Sarah began stepping back.
“Hey, she’s getting away,” one yelled. She turned to run and then. . . blackness.
The next thing she knew, she was flat on the ground with her face in the grass. She sneezed and turned over to sit up. Upon doing so, she felt a throbbing in her head and noticed the twilight of the closing gloam. How long had she been there? Perhaps an hour or more. As she slowly stood up, she remembered she had been with Andrew.
“Andrew,” she exclaimed, “are you all right?”
Silence greeted her.
She started to walk towards Staley Hall and soon discovered his body, face-up.
She knelt, holding her breath for fear that he was dead. She could feel a pulse, but he was unresponsive to her gentle shaking. She noticed one of his legs not having a normal angle to it–probably badly broken.
What to do? I must get help. She began walking to Staley Hall as fast as possible in the twilight and trying not to stumble. She made it to the door of the Hand’s cottage. After knocking, she fell into Mr. And Mrs. Hand’s arms.
“Miss Bingley,” they exclaimed.
“Andrew is badly hurt,” she quickly said.
“Where is he?” Mr. Hand asked.
“He is back on the trail to Pemberley, just across the bridge. We were robbed.” Then it was black again.
The next thing Sarah knew was a light touch on her hand. She immediately withdrew it, fearing some animal was nibbling on it. Then, she opened her eyes to discover she was in her own bedroom at Staley Hall with Anna at her side.
“I was waiting for you to open you eyes,” the young girl quietly said. “Now it’s my turn to play nurse.” Scooting towards the door, she turned and said, “Mother told me to come get her whenever you awakened.”
Anna scurried out of the room and returned with Lady Staley.
“How are you feeling?” her mistress asked.
“A little foggy.” She then sat up and asked, “How did I get here?”
“The men brought you here last night.”
Waking entirely with a jolt of alarm she asked, “Last night? How is Andrew?”
She noted a momentary grimace on Lady Staley’s face before it became hopeful. “Last night the surgeon said he has been severely injured. His leg is broken and was set. We hope for better news this afternoon when Mr. Barnes returns to see his patient.”
“I must get up,” Sarah said. Lady Staley and Anna went to support her. Pushing their hands away, Sarah said, “I shall be fine.” She took a few steps without their support.
“Do you have a headache?”
“Not at all. . . where is Andrew? May I see him?” she asked as she leaned against her writing desk.
“You must be feeling well to ask multiple questions,” Lady Staley said. “We had a bed moved into the small downstairs parlor for him. With his broken leg, the first floor seemed a most reasonable place for him to convalesce.”
“Then let us go see him.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Quietly they stepped into Andrew’s darkened room. Sarah asked to have the lone candle brought closer so she could see how badly he was injured. An audible gasp escaped her lips as the light fell onto the bruised and swollen face. She could not restrain her hand from reaching out and gently caressing the side of his face that looked least injured. “Oh, Andrew,” she whispered, “what have they done to you.”
Anna tugged on Sarah’s sleeve, bringing her back to reality. “Will cousin Andrew be all right?” the young girl asked, with tears streaking down her face.
Georgiana placed a loving arm around Anna, and answered, giving Sarah a moment to compose herself. “The surgeon, Mr. Barnes, says he will be fine, but he must stay in bed for several weeks”
“What can I do to help?” Anna asked as her gaze returned to Sarah.
“We certainly can pray for him.”
“Of course, but what can I do for him?”
Sarah smiled at the child’s eagerness to serve, “It is very difficult for an active man to stay abed while his body heals itself; so, when he awakens we will be needed to keep him entertained. Perhaps you can find some books he might enjoy having us read to him or think up some stories we can share with him.”
Anna smiled and bounced out of the room, “Mother, please have someone call me the moment he awakes!”
As Georgiana and Sarah watched Anna leave the room, they noticed Edgar standing outside the door. “You may come in if you would like,” said Lady Staley.
Edgar came in, but was careful to stay several feet away from the bed. After several moments of quiet thought, he asked, “Sarah, whatever happened? If there were only two ruffians, could he not have fought them off.”
“Perhaps he could have; but, I believe he was most concerned for my safety and seeing that I was given a way of escape.”
“If cousin John and I were there, this would not have happened. We would have taught those thieves a lesson they’d never forget.”
“Edgar, your cousin Andrew was very brave.” Sarah said with feeling. “He tried to reason with those horrible men and when that failed, he took their punishment upon himself and told me to escape. I know, that had it not been for me, he would somehow have been able to slip through their grasp.”
The young boy looked chagrined for having obviously upset Sarah and said, rather condescendingly, “I suppose he did have to let you get safely away. If only I had been there with him instead of you.”
Sarah smiled shakily at the lad, “I’m sure your assistance would have made all the difference.”
Georgiana said, “Now, young man. Why don’t you help me escort Sarah back to her room. She needs the
rest.”
“Indeed, no,” said Sarah. Blushing slightly, she said, “I will rest much better if you would allow me to sit here and watch over Andrew. I promise to call for assistance if I become overly tired.”
After studying Sarah for a moment, Georgiana acquiesced. “Be sure to keep your promise though. We will need you to help nurse him back to health and you can only do that if you take care of yourself as well.”
Sarah smiled. “Thank you.” Turning to Edgar she asked, “Would you be kind enough to retrieve the book I am reading and my embroidery basket from my room?”
Edgar ran to do as he was bid. Georgiana said, “I will have a light meal brought in for you” Then in imitation of a stern, matronly tone, she added,.” If you are not well enough to eat, then I will have to insist you return to your room.”
The day passed slowly as Sarah watched over Andrew, hoping for some indication that he would be all right. Anna came in and out of the room throughout the day and brought books and pictures that she thought Andrew would enjoy when he awakened.
The surgeon came again. He emphasized the need to keep Andrew quiet and make sure he did not thrash about in the bed lest he further damage the broken leg. After giving Sarah some suggestions for his care, he left her to continue her vigil in solitude.
Late that afternoon the Darcys arrived. Sarah slipped out of the room, allowing them some privacy with their son. She went upstairs to refresh herself and then knelt by her bed and prayed earnestly for the healing of her friend.
Soon, Edgar and Anna came to her door. “Mother asked us to see if you feel up to joining them for tea.” Anna said.
Puffing his chest out a bit, Edgar said, “I shall be glad to assist you if you are still a bit tired.”
Sarah smiled and took Edgar’s proffered arm. “What will you two be doing while we have tea?”
“Cook has promised to let me help make biscuits,” Anna said excitedly.
“I shall be their official taste tester,” Edgar added.
