Chapter 12 #3
She had told Mr. Darcy, half in jest, that Pemberley could spare him for a few weeks more, but as she watched Georgiana’s easy conversation with Mary, Kitty’s attempt to hush Lydia, Mrs. Annesley’s unassuming vigilance, she could not honestly say that Longbourn could as easily spare them.
The Darcy party had not merely been sheltered here.
They had, by their very presence, drawn her family towards its better possibilities.
When at last he rose to take his leave for the day, Elizabeth stood in the doorway and watched him cross the frosty gravel to the waiting carriage.
The familiar outline of his shoulders, the turn of his head as he spoke to his coachman, had become so much a part of her days that to see them diminish against the pale winter light gave her an odd sensation of emptiness.
It came to her then, with a clearness that took away her breath, that when they went away for good, Longbourn would not merely lose two guests.
It would lose the very influence which had called its best qualities into use: the sister who had encouraged Mary’s mind and steadied Kitty’s spirits, and the brother whose grave attention had, in spite of herself, made Elizabeth more conscious of her own judgement.
And she—she would lose the man whose sense of duty had once furnished her with so much material for ridicule, and which had, under her very eyes, become a thing she had come to depend upon, perhaps more than was altogether prudent if she wished for any peace of mind.
In the Hedgerows
The day had turned sharper as the sun declined.
A thin wind came down the lane and carried the smell of damp earth and old snow gathered in the hollows.
Elizabeth, Georgiana, Jane, and Lydia had walked a little way beyond the gate, more for the sake of exercise than for any beauty in the hedgerows.
Kitty had run on before them, darting from side to side of the road.
Darcy and Mr. Bingley followed at some distance, their heads bent together over the merits of a horse Bingley had lately purchased.
They were just turning back towards the house when the sound of wheels and a man’s raised voice made them look up.
A cart was coming from Meryton. The driver stood half up in his seat, hauling at the reins.
The horse, its ears laid back, shied suddenly across the road, where the frost hardened ruts made the going treacherous.
“Kitty, come back,” Jane called.
“There is no danger at all,” Lydia cried, laughing. “Only see how he flourishes the whip.”
Kitty, anxious to shew she was not alarmed, only skipped nearer to the hedge.
Elizabeth caught Georgiana’s arm and drew her towards the bank.
At the same moment Darcy, who had seen the whole, was already striding forward.
The horse, checked too late, plunged sideways.
The cart wheel dropped into a deep rut with a jolt that shook the harness and sent up a spray of muddy ice and loose stones.
There was barely time to think. Elizabeth sensed, rather than saw, Darcy reach her.
His hand closed hard about her arm. In the next instant she was swept bodily against him as he turned, setting himself between her and the road and drawing her up under the shelter of the high bank.
The cold prickle of the hedge was at her back.
The rough wool of his greatcoat and the sudden warmth of his body were before her.
A clod of frozen earth struck the hedge where she had been standing.
A stone glanced off his shoulder and fell, dull and heavy, at their feet.
For a moment she could hear nothing but the harsh snorting of the horse, the grind of the cart wheel, and, close against her ear, the hammering of her own heart and the strong, uneven beat of his.
His arm was still round her. She was pressed so close against his chest that the folds of his coat shut out the wind.
The smell of cold mud rose from the road, whilst his warmth seemed to shut it all away.
Within the shelter of his arm she breathed the faint, clean scent of soap and starch and the warm, unmistakable fragrance that was his alone.
“Are you hurt?” His voice sounded rough. He bent his head to look at her.
“No, no, I am perfectly well,” she managed, though her breath would not at first obey her. “You are struck. Your coat.”
“It is nothing.” His arm relaxed a little, but he did not at once release her. “Forgive me. I was perhaps too hasty.”
“Too hasty.” She looked up then, and their faces were nearer than they had ever been.
There was mud on his sleeve where the stone had grazed it and a faint smear on his cheek.
His eyes, intent and anxious, were all for her.
“If you had not pulled me away, that stone would have had my head instead of your coat. I should be ungrateful if I complained of such haste.”
He drew a long breath, as if steadying himself, and at last let his arm fall. The sudden loss of that solid support made her aware of how entirely she had been depending on it. The wind, which she had not felt whilst he held her, seemed to find every opening in her cloak at once.
By this time the cart had been brought under command.
The horse stood blowing clouds of steam into the cold air, tossing its head as the driver, all apologies, assured them that no real harm had been done.
Jane, who had hurried Georgiana and Lydia further up the bank, came back to them, her colour high with fright and relief, and Kitty followed, rather subdued.
Mr. Bingley, full of concern, was exclaiming over the danger they had been in and lamenting that he had not reached them sooner.
“It was over in a moment,” Elizabeth said, striving for composure. “Mr. Darcy was nearest. He drew me back before I had the sense to move myself.”
Bingley turned a look of real admiration upon his friend. “Darcy, you must not make light of this,” he said, still a little pale. “You were wonderfully quick. I do not like to think how it might have ended without you.”
“You owe me nothing,” Darcy said shortly. “Miss Elizabeth was in my sight. I could do no less.”
His tone was brusque, almost impatient. Elizabeth, who had just felt the tremor in the hand that had held her so firmly, understood that it was not indifference which made him speak so.
Her own knees were less steady than she liked.
When they turned back towards the house a few minutes later, she found she was glad to take the arm he offered, though she told herself it was only that the lane was uneven after the frost.
The others walked on a little before them, Bingley full of animated reproaches to Kitty and Lydia for their imprudence, Jane and Georgiana soothing and laughing by turns.
The cart rattled away towards Meryton. In a short time the road looked as it always did, the hedges grey and bare, the air keen on her cheek.
Only the memory of that instant, his arm about her and the blow taken on his own shoulder, refused to resume its common shape.
“It was nothing, I assure you,” he said at last, as if he knew her thoughts still dwelt on it. “The driver had the horse in hand before any real mischief could be done.”
“I cannot agree that there was no danger,” Elizabeth replied. Her voice was tolerably composed now, though her heart still remembered. “You stepped between it and me before I knew what was happening. That is not nothing.”
He was silent for a moment, looking ahead at the line of the hedge and the pale sky beyond. When he spoke again, his tone had altered.
“I wonder whether I might impose upon you for a little assistance, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Certainly, sir. I cannot imagine what skill I might possess that you do not have in far greater measure,” Elizabeth answered, wondering what possible matter could compel Mr. Darcy to seek her help.
“The Netherfield steward, Mr. Blake, has informed me that one of the tenant cottages on the estate is in need of rather urgent repair. He is concerned that the people there are uncertain whether the matter will be addressed, as my lease here is only temporary. We agreed that I ought to see the condition for myself and determine whether it properly falls within my responsibility as tenant. Mr. Blake suggested that, since Longbourn has been looking to the tenants in the absence of a resident proprietor, my appearing in company with a familiar face would ease any anxiety on the part of the cottagers—a Mr. Samuel and his family, I believe. You know the family, I collect?”
“We have known them these many years,” Elizabeth replied. “If my presence can convince Mr. Samuel that you mean to do him justice, I shall be happy to attend you. When would you wish to call upon them?”
Darcy named a time, and it was agreed that they would walk from Netherfield to the cottage together. Mr. Darcy insisted upon sending his carriage to Longbourn to convey her there, observing that a walk of nearly three miles, only to begin another, would be quite out of the question.
“I ought to mention another matter. I have had letters from Pemberley,” he said.
“I had meant to speak to you, and to Mr. Bennet, this evening. The snow has done more mischief there than I expected. A barn on the lower farm has given way under the weight of it, and there is some question of repairing the outbuildings before worse weather comes on. My steward writes that he is unwilling to decide every thing without me.”
She turned a little towards him. “Then your presence is really necessary.”
“I believe it is,” he answered. “I have delayed longer than is quite reasonable already. Whilst Georgiana was in immediate distress, I could not think of anything beyond that. Now that my sister has recovered, I must remember that my duty lies in more places than one.”