by Robin Helm
It came to both of them in the same moment that they were alone together in an abandoned mill, cut off from the world by the fog and chaperoned only by a sleeping little boy.
Darcy cleared his throat and moved over to one of the windows, and Elizabeth went to Peter, to see that he was still sleeping.
“I have never seen fog like this,” said Elizabeth. “Have you?”
“Only once,” said Darcy, and stopped himself just in time from saying that it had been in Derbyshire. “It lasted several hours, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh!” said Elizabeth. “The ladies will be distracted with worry if we are gone for hours!”
“If the fog does not begin to clear in a half-hour or so, we should probably begin the journey back, extremely carefully. There are three of us, which is safer than a single person.”
Elizabeth nodded her agreement. “I think I will sit down, if you have no objection. I am still somewhat weary from my walk—having to carry Peter for so long.”
“You carried him? You must be exhausted!”
“It was safer, I thought, than giving him the chance to run away, and it comforted him to be held.”
“You are a remarkable young woman.”
“And you are remarkably good at flattery.”
“I never flatter anyone,” said Darcy truthfully.
Elizabeth made a great effort to ignore the fluttering that this statement caused in her pulse.
“You must be sometimes tempted to flatter your patron—Mr. Darcy, is it?—for the very wealthy often do favours for those who treat them with adulation.”
“Very true, I believe, but I can do Mr. Darcy the justice of saying that he dislikes obsequiousness, and never rewards it.”
“He seems to be quite a paragon. He helps to establish orphanages and is fair and just in all his dealings. I have yet to hear of a fault in him.”
“Believe me, he has his failings.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Such as?”
“I believe he is proud—too proud,” said Darcy. “I suppose it comes from having grown up with a high sense of his worth drummed into him by his parents and masters.”
“I can easily believe it. It must be difficult to escape that particular temptation.”
“He ought to know better,” said Darcy with feeling. He has good principles, but it would do him good to be forced to mingle with—” He stopped, searching for a word.
“The hoi polloi?” suggested Elizabeth with a smirk.
“With ordinary good people,” finished Darcy. “I think he has too little patience with the failings of others.”
“Does he not hope and pray for their betterment?”
“He thinks that people do not change. I have heard him say so with my own ears.”
“And you? Do you think people change?”
Darcy looked her with an arrested expression. Was it for herself that she was asking?
“Yes, I must believe so. Else why would Scripture say so much about repenting?”
“That is a very good point.”
“I think another of Mr. Darcy’s failings is that he judges without always knowing all the facts. Sometimes things are not what they appear to be.”
“I suppose we all do that sometimes. I do wonder, however…if it is true that people can change, how long do you wait before you know that you can trust them? Before you can be certain that they have truly changed? If you know a liar, for example—” Elizabeth could not meet Darcy’s eyes, although it was for a different reason than he assumed—“it seems foolhardy to suddenly believe everything they say just because they appear to have repented.”
“Lying presents a special problem, I think,” said Darcy. “It is hard for a person in the habit of lying to change. A good liar may cover up his evil deeds, and so continue in them without detection, thus facilitating more evil than just falsehood alone.”
“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth. “I have heard it said that this is the reason that honesty is the most important of the virtues.”
Darcy thought she looked a little forlorn as she said this. It was possible he was being too harsh. If by chance she was referring to herself, he must give her hope, and help her to realize that her situation was more complex than someone who told lies for personal gain. He was sure she was not that kind of person.
“On the other hand,” he went on, “I once knew someone who had a good reason for lying, that no one could have guessed. It went very much against the grain with them to be deceitful, but they were convinced they were doing it for a righteous cause.”
“Like Rahab and the spies in Jericho?”
“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Exactly like that.”
All at once she knew what he was trying to tell her. He was being deceitful, but he had a good reason for it. Perhaps he was protecting someone, or…or something else that she couldn’t think of right in this moment. The important thing was that he was not an enemy agent, and he was not a confidence trickster. It made perfect sense. Apart from telling her the wrong location for his parish, his character had been blameless since he had appeared from behind that ruined wall the day she was trapped by the dog. He had not asked her or anyone else for money, she had heard from Mrs. Welbeck that he really was making improvements to that house, and she had seen his compassion at work with Mrs. Kenley and Peter, and in his search for her.
She heard Peter stirring and looked over at him. He sat up on his makeshift bed. “Granny?” he called.
Elizabeth went over to him and picked him up and carried him to the window.
“I think the fog is thinning!” she said. Darcy came over beside her and gazed out the window too.
“I believe you are correct, Miss Bennet. Shall we go now?”
“Yes, I think we should.”
It took them a few minutes to get their coats back on and find a drink of water for Peter, but presently they set off. They let Peter walk, but each held one of his hands. There was no more deep conversation between them; each was lost in their own thoughts. But they were both conscious that there was only a small boy between them, connecting them. The fog continually lightened as they went along, and by the time they entered Rowsley, they could see almost a furlong ahead of them.
When they arrived home, it was to a scene of relief and rejoicing. Elizabeth doubted that the women had left the window since Darcy had gone in search of her; at least, they seemed as much in need of a hot cup of tea and a slice of cake as the adventurers were. By the time they finished eating, the fog had dissipated completely, and Mrs. Kinley said she was well able to get home on her own.
Darcy lingered a little longer, wishing he could speak more to Elizabeth, to see if she would drop any more clues about what she was thinking. With Millie hovering over them, however, there could be no more exchange of confidences. When he took his leave, Elizabeth accompanied him to the door.
“Goodbye, Mr. Williams,” she said, looking up into his face. “Thank you again.”
He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then grasped her hand and kissed it. Immediately, he was gone.
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
In the morning, Darcy fought his inclination to make up some excuse to call on Elizabeth. He really ought to go out to the house and see how the work was coming along. He did so, and was pleased to see that in spite of inclement weather, the house had been cleared of broken furniture and rubbish, and a start had been made on the roof.
The following day Darcy was shaving when he heard a knock on his door. Assuming it was a servant delivering his polished boots, he opened it and was met with the sight of his cousin.
“At last!” said Darcy. “I had almost given you up!”
Col. Fitzwilliam greeted his cousin somewhat frostily. “If you had wanted me here earlier, you ought to have told me where you were!” He sat down on the chair that Darcy gestured to.
“I did! That is, I said I was in a village by a ruined abbey near Southend.”
“And did it neve
r occur to you that there might be more than one set of ruins near Southend?”
Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “Is there?”
“Oh yes, indeed. The man at the hostelry in North Benfleet knew just the ruins I meant, when I asked him. He sent me east of Southend, to a small ruined abbey near Nevendon. I asked around there for a Reverend Mr. Williams, and they knew of no such person. I asked for Mr. Darcy, too, but they didn’t know him either. I asked if there were any other ruins near Southend.”
“And they told you about Rowsley.”
“No, not at all. They told me about a place called Barling, which also had ruins.”
“Another ruined abbey?”
“Not quite. When I got there I found that it was the ruins of a castle. Nonetheless, I asked about for Reverend Mr. Williams, and was directed to his house.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I am. It seemed very odd to me—how could you have got a house so quickly? But I had no reason to disbelieve that it was you. This Reverend Williams was away, so I was forced to wait until he returned the next day.”
“And was he anything like me?”
“Eighty years old, at least.”
Darcy laughed. “I would give anything to have seen your face!”
Col. Fitzwilliam regarded him balefully. “I do not see anything amusing in the situation. My time was very much wasted, while you have been having a lark here…”
“And here have I been thinking all this time that when we met, you would be laughing at me!”
“Explain, if you please.”
Darcy gave him a brief account of events, laying special stress on all the inconveniences he had been suffering under.
James smiled as the recital finished. “Rest assured, my good fellow, your Miss Bennet is not a spy. Elise Benét was caught two days ago in Sussex.”
I knew it! thought Darcy. I knew she could not be a traitor! To his cousin he said merely, “I am relieved to hear it.”
“I daresay you are. Fallen in love with her, haven’t you?”
“What? I never said anything of the kind!”
“You didn’t have to. I know you. Never seen you talk about a lady in that way.”
Darcy looked resentfully at James.
“What?” said his cousin. “Did you think you could keep it a secret from me? You cannot tell me I am wrong.”
Darcy sighed. “I don’t know how you discovered it, but no, you are not wrong.”
“Well then, accept my felicitations.”
“Not so fast. There are difficulties.”
“The great Mr. Darcy of Pemberley having difficulties getting a woman to accept his offer? Surely you jest.”
“She does not know I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley: she thinks I am a clergyman named Williams who comes from Hertfordshire.”
“I cannot think she would be unhappy to find you are much richer and more influential than she thinks you are.”
“But she told me that she thinks honesty is the most important virtue, or something to that effect. What will she think of me if she knows I have been lying to her all this time, even for a good cause? Worse, that I thought she might be a spy?”
“Most women would find these objectionable things smoothed over by the thought of the riches that would be theirs as the wife of Mr. Darcy.”
“Miss Bennet is not that sort. She is principled. I doubt she has ever told a falsehood.”
“Well then,” said the colonel, “You will have to actually woo her, which I never thought you would need to do.”
“Nor I,” said Darcy. He paused for a moment. “There is one other thing, James, which makes it difficult; she is a gentleman’s daughter, but comes from no family of significance. She is not a woman of fashion or fortune. In fact, she is searching for a post as a governess. Society would be merciless to her if she became Mrs. Darcy.”
“You mean Aunt Catherine would be merciless.”
“Oh heavens, I had not even thought of her reaction! She would probably die of apoplexy.”
“Tell me, would you rather avoid the slings and arrows of society’s disapproval, or would you rather keep Miss Bennet from ending her days as a governess?”
There was a slight lull as Darcy thought this over. “No. That settles it. I will do my utmost to win her affections, and pray that she will forgive me.”
“What you need, my dear fellow, is an Occasion. Some event where you can dress in your finest clothes and appear to advantage.”
“There is an assembly on St. Valentine’s Day, at which there will be dancing.”
“Tomorrow night! Perfect! I shall attend as well!”
“As yourself? Or shall we make you some other character?”
“Myself! We have enough deceptions to set straight without adding to them.”
“I agree. I hope you brought your regimentals.”
⸟ﻬ⸞ﻬ⸟
On the fourteenth of February, Elizabeth went forth into the village to buy a new pair of gloves for the assembly that night. She had no intention of seeking out Mr. Williams, of course, but she did rather hope that she would be fortunate enough to glimpse him while she was out.
She had always been determined to be careful of giving her heart to any man until she was sure of his intentions. She did not want to be one of those females who lost her head over a handsome face or fine manners, or one who mistook flirtation for a serious courtship. Now, however, without Mr. Williams saying a word about his intentions and without being sure of much of anything about him (save that he was not a foreign spy), she was nonetheless very much on the verge of being hopelessly in love with him. She wished her sister Jane was there with her rational mind and good sense to help steady her.
She had just paid for the gloves and was about to leave the shop, when she came face to face with Mr. Williams and another man who was dressed in a military uniform.
“Miss Bennet!” exclaimed Darcy, and his cousin thought that he had never seen him with that expression on his face before.
“How do you do, Mr. Williams?” said Elizabeth with a small curtsey and a smile that matched his own.
“May I present my—” Darcy paused, not certain whether he ought to acknowledge their cousinship or not. “May I present my friend, Col. Fitzwilliam?”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” said the colonel, bowing as Elizabeth curtseyed.
“I have just been buying gloves,” said Elizabeth.
“I do hope that means you and Miss Milsom will be attending the assembly tonight,” said Darcy.
“It does. And will you be there?” She looked at both men impartially and tried to keep any trace of eagerness out of her voice.
“Indeed, yes,” said the colonel. “D—Mr. Williams has persuaded me to join him.”
“I hope you will enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I shall. It will be a pleasant respite from my military obligations.”
“Have you seen service abroad, Colonel?”
“Not of late, no. Do you have friends in the king’s service, ma’am?”
“No, my acquaintance with soldiers is limited to seeing them marching on parade. However, I’m sure you also have more arduous duties.”
“Absolutely. We also polish our swords and coat buttons, eat inferior food, play cards, and in our leisure moments, go searching for spies.” He cast a droll look at Darcy.
Darcy cleared his throat and said immediately, “Please give our regards to Miss Milsom, Miss Bennet. The colonel would like to see the orphanage house, and we must go now so as to be back in time for the assembly.”
They bowed and parted, and Darcy waited until they were mounted and out of the earshot of passers-by before saying, “You nearly called me Darcy—I heard you.”
“Yes, and you stumbled over whether you ought to say I was your cousin or not. If Miss Bennet were of a suspicious nature, she would have been sure to mark it.”
“And what were you about, saying that you were hunting for spies?”
“It might make things more complicated when I explain to her about my misapprehensions.”
“True enough. I beg your pardon. What is your plan? Are you going to tell her everything tonight?”
“I think not. I would rather woo her by degrees, giving her reason to trust me, and then explaining myself after a little time has gone by. Tonight I will speak about subjects of mutual interest—the abolition of the slave trade, honesty and virtue, the teaching of orphans…”
“You did say you were planning to woo, her did you not?”
“I did.”
“What a strange assortment of topics you have chosen to entice her.”
Darcy cracked a smile. “Well, our best conversations have been on those topics.”
James regarded him thoughtfully. “I see I have more to congratulate you on than I first supposed. Not only is she beautiful, but also a woman of substance. I must say, I never expected you would choose so well. I would have thought that her lack of status would keep you from looking twice at her.”
“Perhaps it would have, if I had met her in any other way. I thank Providence things were arranged in this wise.”
James laughed. “So really, you ought to be thanking me for sending you on that errand. And not only because it enabled you to meet Miss Bennet. You have always been afraid that a woman would not care for you so much as she cared for what you have, and you were always wary of females for this reason. However, this little ruse helped you to know that Miss Bennet, if she learns to love you, will do so for your character and disposition, and nothing else.”
“Indeed. And my character may well seem to be faulty.”
“Let us hope that your charm wins the day, then.”
“Do be serious! Tell me how best to go about this.”
“My dear fellow, I have no idea. I have never been in such a tangle as you are in now. But I tell you what I will do. I will ask Miss Bennet to dance, and tell her all of your virtues. That may help convince her that your late foray into deception is not a pattern of life with you.”
