Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  “Colin, will you see that Zeus gets a rub-down and some water?”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Colin exclaimed proudly as he pushed through the gate and stepped up to take Zeus’ reins. Then noting the sad expressions of the two who had not been chosen, he added, “Would you mind if Jack and Rudy rode Zeus while I take him to the barn, sir?”

  William had no objections, but he did have words of warning. “I do not mind, as long as you take Zeus straight to the barn.” To the younger boys he said, “Do you promise to sit perfectly still and let Colin help you down?”

  The boys nodded enthusiastically, so William picked up first one and then the other, placing them on Zeus’ back. He watched until they had gone several feet before turning his attention to the Moodys.

  “I am sorry that I am late,” he said, nodding to the couple as Mr. Moody bowed and Mrs. Moody dropped a curtsey. “My steward stopped me with some questions just as I started out the door.”

  “Oh, there is no need to apologise. We have enjoyed talking with the children while we waited,” the vicar said. “But I imagine that you have much work still to do, so if you are ready, we can begin.”

  The Moodys turned to go inside the large, two-story building and William followed. They walked down a long hall with a myriad of children’s voices filling the air from all the open classroom doors. When they passed one particular door, something caught William’s eye, and he backed up to make certain what he had seen.

  Across the room sat a lady who very much resembled Elizabeth. She was at a table with her back to the door, and several girls stood on either side of her, each diligently focused on whatever she held in her hands. From the bolts of cloth, pincushions and scissors on the table, he assumed that they were sewing. He observed for a few seconds before deciding that the idea of his wife being there was absurd. Subsequently, he shook his head and walked on, eventually catching up with the Moodys, who had stopped to wait at the end of the hall. They wore quizzical expressions.

  “Mr. Darcy, you seem perplexed,” Mrs. Moody said. “Is something the matter?”

  “Oh, it is nothing. For a brief moment, I thought I saw Mrs. Darcy in a classroom.”

  “That is Mrs. Darcy. After meeting with the headmistress, Mrs. Samson, she volunteered to help the girls learn to sew. We assumed that you knew.”

  William did not want to appear ignorant. “She may have mentioned it, but I do not recall. Things have been hectic since I returned from London. Mrs. Darcy and I have often been separated by our duties.”

  Mrs. Moody smiled and nodded. “I understand. In any case, though this is her first class, all of the girls have admired her from her first visit. They all wished to take lessons, so we limited the classes to the older girls first. After all, they will be the first to marry.”

  “Now, Lovey,” Mr. Moody broke in, addressing his wife with the endearment he always used instead of her given name, “Mr. Darcy is here to talk about the new building and not about sewing lessons.” Then he addressed William. “If you will allow me, I can show you the drawing I spoke to you about.”

  William nodded, and with that, the vicar disappeared into the room on his left, quickly followed by his wife and his patron. Lying on a huge table was a hand-drawn diagram of the layout of the current building with the proposed addition.

  “If we build the addition right beside this wall,” Moody said, pointing to the plans, “we can remove the windows and insert doors in their places. The top floor of the addition will be living quarters, doubling the number of beds, and allowing us to better segregate the girls from the boys. The bottom will contain a larger kitchen and dining area. We need a bigger kitchen if we are to use it as a classroom to teach our children how to cook. The old kitchen and dining room in this building can then be converted into classrooms.”

  “It seems that you have planned capably,” William replied. “If I may, I shall take this drawing and present it to my builder. If he has no objections, we can have the building plans drawn up. If the weather cooperates, we should be able to begin construction in the spring.”

  The vicar shook William’s hand. “You have been so supportive of the home, and I thank you on behalf of all the children.”

  “It is the least I can do when you and Mrs. Moody give so much of yourself to make this endeavour a success. By the way, is Mrs. Samson available? I wish to get the monthly report while I am here—that is, if she is finished with it.”

  “Lovey, will you be so kind to ask Mrs. Samson if she has time to meet with Mr. Darcy?”

  Instantly, Mrs. Moody headed toward the door; however, once she reached the hallway she stopped to ask, “Do you wish me to inform Mrs. Darcy that you are here?”

  “No!” William said with more zeal than he meant to convey. Then he said more sedately, “I meant to say that I do not want to interrupt her lessons. I would rather you not mention my presence.”

  The older woman’s expression was one of confusion. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy.” Then she forced a smile. “If you wait here, I will return in a shake of a lamb’s tail.”

  Being near the door, Mr. Moody moved to peek into the hallway, following his wife’s progress. Sincerely he said, “I am blessed to have Lovey as my helpmate.” Then he looked back at William. “And you are blessed to have Mrs. Darcy. She is not like most women of her station, but I am sure that you are aware of that. Other than your sainted mother, few women of wealth have such compassion for the poor. It is a tribute to your character that you chose her to marry. I am certain that your parents would have approved.”

  William flushed, not sure what to say, so he settled on a wan smile. If the vicar noticed his reluctance to praise Elizabeth, he did not mention it. Besides, all was quickly overshadowed by the return of Mrs. Moody with the news that Mrs. Samson would be delighted to meet with him immediately. Thus, with Mrs. Moody’s company for propriety’s sake, William went up the stairs to meet with the bookkeeper.

  Finished with business an hour later, William left the building without seeking out Elizabeth. Rather than accompany her back to Pemberley, he wished to reflect on the fact that he knew nothing of her activities at the orphanage. His uncle’s advice played repeatedly in his mind. To his credit, he had tried to interact more with Elizabeth after their talk, but he had not been successful. For now it seemed that she was in the habit of avoiding him as keenly as he had once avoided her.

  And now that he thought about it, she had become especially reclusive since Georgiana had reappeared, even refusing the last two nights to join the others after dinner. As he pondered the implications of that, he made a new resolution.

  I shall speak to Elizabeth the moment she returns from Lambton by one means or another!

  LONDON

  Gracechurch Street

  The Gardiners’ residence

  The front door had barely closed before Mrs. Gardiner enquired of her housekeeper, Mrs. Olds, if there were any letters. The servant replied that there was one and handed it to her. Noticing the handwriting, the lady of the house hurriedly opened it and began reading. Then she rushed to her husband’s study, for Edward had remained home that afternoon to work on the household finances. He was startled when his door flew open and Madeline came in, speaking as excitedly as his sister Fanny.

  “Oh, Edward! Jane is threatening to go to Pemberley! She is not at all satisfied that Lizzy is well and tells me that she has spoken to Mr. Bingley about escorting her and Fanny to Derbyshire. Now that would be a disaster!”

  Edward Gardiner removed his spectacles, rubbing his nose tiredly. “I thought that my reply to my Brother Bennet’s letter would have eased everyone’s suspicions, but I should have known Thomas would not share it with the rest of the family. He was probably afraid that Fanny would ask to read all of it. In hindsight, I should have thought to have you write Jane.”

  “In the last letter from Lizzy, she appeared content, but I could read the unhappiness between the lines. She was not in high spirits, so I can only surmise that they
have not worked out their problems—at least not to her satisfaction. I pray continually that Mr. Darcy will forgive her and that they shall reconcile, at least as much as possible.”

  “I do as well, but Mr. Darcy seems a good man, and I think him more hurt than revengeful. And, given time, I believe he will forgive and forget. But should Fanny, Thomas or Jane call on Lizzy now, especially with her sisters in tow, all sensibility could be lost in the melee.”

  “I agree.”

  “So, you must write to Jane and tell her that you have been in touch with Lizzy and know for a fact that all is well. Advise her not to visit Pemberley until she is invited or else she will be interfering with a couple very occupied with the business of being newlyweds. Perhaps that will embarrass her enough to put off the notion.”

  “Perhaps.” His wife sighed. “But Jane will not be held off for long, if Lizzy does not convince her that all is well. For now, however, a postponement is the best we can hope for.

  “I fear you are right.”

  PEMBERLEY

  That afternoon

  By chance, as William travelled the road from Lambton to Pemberley, he encountered the very man who had built the original orphanage. Mr. Arrington just happened to be in Lambton visiting his mother and, saying that it was no imposition, he accompanied William back to Pemberley to look over the crude drawing for the new addition. Finding the idea feasible, Mr. Arrington and William concluded their meeting, and William was seeing him to the door just as Elizabeth came down the grand staircase. While he had been sequestered in his study with Arrington, she had returned from Lambton, had tea with Olivia and was preparing to leave again. Elizabeth stopped abruptly at the sight of her husband and the stranger, waiting as William came over to take her hand and lead her forward.

  “Elizabeth, this is Mr. Arrington, the man who built the orphanage in Lambton. He will also be building the new addition in the spring.” Addressing Arrington, he added, “Mr. Arrington, my wife, Elizabeth Darcy.”

  Arrington bowed as Elizabeth curtseyed.

  “You did an excellent job with the foundlings’ home,” Elizabeth said. “I have never seen a finer institute for children. Some elements look more like a home than an orphanage— the large activity room, for example, with all the windows and window seats and the cushioned benches in the kitchen.”

  “While I cannot take credit for the cushions, we tried to make it comfortable as well as functional.”

  “And you succeeded admirably.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy.” Then Arrington shook William’s hand. “I shall leave you now. I return to London in the morning, and I wish to spend the rest of this day with Mother. I will contact you the first part of February, after I have finished the specifications.”

  “Excellent.”

  Placing his hat on his head and giving it a pat, Arrington nodded and went out the door. William and Elizabeth moved to the front entrance to watch him mount his horse, raise a hand in farewell and gallop down the front drive. For a long time neither moved nor spoke.

  Finally, Elizabeth said with forced cheeriness, “I am afraid that I must be going, too, if I am to check on Mrs. Becker and be home before dark.”

  “May I ride with you? I need to inspect the new bridge, and with my escort, you will not need a footman.”

  Elizabeth was surprised that he had offered. “If that is your wish.”

  William gave orders to retrieve his stallion and her mare, and as they waited for the horses, the silence between them grew awkward. Elizabeth felt his eyes upon her, so she boldly glanced in his direction. His blue eyes were piercing as he gazed steadily at her. Unable to endure his inspection, Elizabeth closed her eyes and swayed a bit.

  His hand clasped her elbow, making her shiver. “Elizabeth, are you well? Perhaps you should postpone your visit today. Surely tomorrow will be soon enough to check on Mrs. Becker.”

  “I am well, I assure you.” She wiped a faint bead of perspiration from her brow. “It is just that this outfit is unbearably hot, that is all.”

  William’s eyes were drawn to the riding habit, travelling slowly down her body and back again. The habit was dark burgundy with a fanciful, forest-green, leather trim around the collar, the neck and the bottom of the sleeves. Unlike most of her gowns, it fit like a glove from her generous breasts to her tiny waist, with the skirt hugging her hips without flaring until it reached her thighs. She wore a pair of green-leather boots and a jaunty, three-cornered hat, also in green, topped with two pheasant feathers. William slipped a finger under his cravat to loosen it. It was getting warm!

  Just at that point, a groom rode around the house, leading Zeus and Phoebe. William stepped in front of a footman who was preparing to help Elizabeth onto her mare. Placing his hands on either side of her waist, William effortlessly lifted her into the side-saddle. Not meeting her eye, he positioned her leg around the top of the saddle and straightened out her skirts. Once he was satisfied, he handed her the reins.

  “There, you are set.”

  He put one foot in a stirrup and swung a long leg over Zeus. “Tell Mrs. Reynolds that we are off to visit a tenant,” William said to the nearest footman.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Darcy!” a nervous, young footman replied. “Right away.”

  William almost chuckled as the young man tripped over his feet in a rush to go up the steps. Then he addressed Elizabeth, “Shall we be off, then?”

  At her nod, he kicked Zeus into a trot, and she followed suit with Phoebe; however, as they reached the end of the road and began to cross a field, both horses broke into a gallop. As it was too hard to talk, the entire trip to the Beckers was spent in silence. Once at the tenants’ house, William dismounted and then helped Elizabeth to the ground just as the door opened, and Mrs. Becker slowly walked onto the small porch.

  William greeted her, doffing his hat and bowing slightly, “Mrs. Becker, I hope you are well.”

  The woman smiled tiredly. “Thank you for enquiring, sir. I am as well as can be at this point.”

  Seeing that no one else appeared, Elizabeth asked, “Are you alone? I expected Mazie to rush out.” Her expression darkened. “And where is the maid?”

  “Tom is at the bridge, and Mazie is picking gooseberries with the maid.”

  Elizabeth seemed miffed. “I sent her to see after you, not pick berries.”

  “Please do not be angry, Mrs. Darcy. Mazie has begged for a gooseberry pie for weeks, so I asked Jessie to help her pick the berries.” She pointed to a rise on the left. “They are just over that ridge.”

  William interrupted their talk as he replaced his hat. “I am afraid that I must go on to the bridge, Elizabeth. After I am done there, I shall come back to escort you home.” He touched the rim of his hat. “Mrs. Becker.”

  The tenant watched raptly as William swung into the saddle effortlessly, reined Zeus to the right and galloped off.

  “My Tom always says that no one sits a horse like Mr. Darcy. It is a pure pleasure to watch him ride. He makes it seem effortless.”

  “Yes. I dare say that my husband is a talented horseman,” Elizabeth answered, as she, too, watched him leave. Then she took Annie Becker’s arm. “Come! Let us go inside. You must long to sit down.”

  AT THE BRIDGE SITE, William found Mr. Sturgis, Tom Becker and the other tenant who relied on the bridge, Mr. Hanson. They were all gathered on a bank underneath the partially framed structure. As he dismounted and walked under it to join them, William was surprised to hear of his steward’s displeasure with the project.

  “No, no. This will never do! Those boards are bending under the weight! That is not what I ordered,” he said, pointing to a certain section. “They must be thicker. And we must have more nails in these supporting timbers.”

  Tom Becker volunteered, “I can ride into Lambton for more nails, and while I am there, inform the sawmill that the support boards were not thick enough and must be re-cut.”

  Everyone looked to William to make the decision. “That would be h
elpful, if you think you can ride to Lambton and back by dark. At the least, that will insure that the boards are on order. I fear it will take several weeks to make enough to replace those that are insufficient.”

  “I am certain that I can be back before nightfall, sir,” Becker answered. Then he scurried up the bank to find his horse.

  “Mr. Darcy, would you and Mr. Sturgis consider looking over a field on the far side of my land before you leave? It has begun to stand water, and my attempts to reroute it with ditches have not succeeded.”

  Knowing that his steward had been up since dawn, William looked to him. “Are you too weary, Mr. Sturgis, or would you rather wait until tomorrow?”

  “I am not too tired to give an opinion,” Sturgis answered.

  “Then show us the field, Mr. Hanson.”

  As Tom Becker rode toward Lambton, he planned to stop by his house, for it was in the same direction. And, with the baby due at any time, he wanted Annie to know where he would be.

  AT THE BECKERS’ HOUSE, the maid and Mazie were returning with a pan full of gooseberries. Hearing a noise, Elizabeth told Annie Becker to sit still and got up to see who was outside. As she went out the door, Mazie ran to give her a hug and then hurried past her to show her mother the bounty. Jessie lingered behind, for upon seeing Mrs. Darcy, she had a request.

  “Since you are here now, would it be possible for me to return to Pemberley early, Mrs. Darcy? I wish to give Mrs. Reynolds a list of things we really need here—things such as meal and flour. That is, if you do not mind.”

  “Of course not. How did you get here? A carriage or a horse?”

  “A horse, ma’am. Mr. Miller, the coachman, lent me one so that I do not have to wait for someone to drive me. I ride very well, so it was the best choice for me.”

  “Then you had better be off!” Elizabeth declared with a smile. Jessie nodded and turned to hurry to the barn. Elizabeth called after her, “Oh, and ask Mrs. Reynolds to send more breads and sweets if Mrs. Lantrip baked today.”