Chapter 10 #2
She swept the girl into the courtyard, grabbing a pitcher of water and two glasses on her way.
Sarah muttered in her own tongue at this high-handed behavior, but sat down obediently and drank some water. Elizabeth settled in as well and smiled at her, enjoying the comparative cool of the courtyard.
“What is that?” she asked Sarah, pointing at a very large caterpillar with a reddish-orange head. It was at least four inches long and had black and yellow stripes.
“Frangipani,” the girl replied with a smile.
“Does it become a beautiful butterfly?” Elizabeth asked.
“Do not know,” Sarah responded, looking puzzled.
“Butterfly,” Elizabeth repeated, linking her thumbs together and pretending that her hands were wings.
“Ah yes, butterfly. Yes. Big.”
“Beautiful?” Elizabeth asked, pointing at a nearby bevy of lovely flowers. “Pretty?”
Sarah looked confused for a moment and then shook her head with a sudden gurgle of laughter.
“Not pretty,” she explained. “Ugly. Big and …”
She picked up a clod of dirt and Elizabeth sighed, “Brown?”
“Yes, ugly and brown.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and took another long drink of water, relishing the warm liquid going down her throat.
Two nights ago, she had explained to Mr. Kendall that Sarah and Jacob were struggling to keep up with fetching water for the household, and now Mr. Kendall was collecting two full buckets before he went to bed each night.
There was a strange luxury in having enough water.
Elizabeth saw Sarah run a thoughtful hand down her torso and sat up in alarm.
“Is everything all right?” she asked worriedly.
Sarah looked startled, and then smiled, “Baby kick.”
“Ah,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “That is good.”
“Very good.”
They sat quietly for another few minutes before Sarah clambered to her feet, “Must wash.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, reluctantly heaving herself up.
Was it only a few months ago when she could rest freely whenever she wished?
When she never had to worry about food being prepared and water fetched?
When her busiest days involved preparing for a ball or assembly? How very privileged she had been!
With a sigh, Miss Bennet, formerly of Longbourn, rose to her feet, collected the glasses and pitcher of water, and walked back into the parsonage just as the door knocker thumped.
Sarah gestured toward the front door, “Someone here.”
Elizabeth nodded. They had visitors every two or three days; Englishmen and women who had not seen their home country in some time, some Danish visitors, and even, oddly enough, a French émigré family who had fled France during the Terror and somehow landed in St. Croix.
Elizabeth always welcomed them in and acted as hostess, as Helena was not capable of doing so.
If the visitors came after the midday meal, Mr. Kendall was usually available as well.
There was another imperious thump of the knocker on the front door and Elizabeth rushed into the front hall, frantically smoothing down her hair, and opened the door with a welcoming smile.
A moment later, her vision blurred and she found herself wobble slightly in shock.
“Mr ... Mr. Darcy?” she whispered softly. It could not really be him, could it? She must be dreaming.
“Elizabeth … Miss Bennet!” the man said worriedly, reaching out a steadying hand before drawing back nervously. “I am sorry, I did not expect you to personally answer the door.”
Elizabeth shook her head slightly as if to clear it and blinked several times. Mr. Darcy still stood in front of her, dressed not in the clothing of a London gentleman but instead in a practical brown shirt and tan breeches made of a rougher material.
“How can you ...?” she began, then bit her lip, “Please, Mr. Darcy, come in, do come in. I can hardly believe it is you!”
Darcy, on his part, felt an enormous surge of relief.
Elizabeth was here, clearly healthy, her face delightfully flushed, her eyes bright with pleasure.
He admitted to himself that he had feared she would have died on the trip over, as irrational as that was.
To see her here was nearly overwhelming.
Elizabeth invited Darcy into the drawing room and gestured for him to take a seat. Sarah appeared and followed them, her expression concerned.
“A friend,” Elizabeth explained with a wavering smile. “He is a friend.”
Sarah gazed at Darcy thoughtfully, “I get Mr. Kendall?”
“Please, Sarah. Thank you.”
Darcy settled into his seat and Elizabeth sat across from him. For a full minute, the two gazed at one in another in silence until finally Elizabeth began laughing softly.
“This is quite absurd, Mr. Darcy,” she commented. “I realize you are not adept at conversing but I am usually not stricken in similar fashion. What are you doing here on St. Croix?”
“I came in search of you,” Darcy explained baldly, causing Elizabeth to start in surprise.
“Me?” she inquired softly. “Sir …”
“Miss Bennet,” he interrupted, and shook his head, “I am so grieved at the loss of your father. I did not know of the catastrophe until a few weeks ago as I was engaged in the north at one of our family’s small estates.
When I heard of Mr. Bennet’s passing and of my aunt’s vile advice to Mr. Collins, I rushed to find you.
I mourn over all that has come to pass.”
Elizabeth felt her eyes fill with tears and she reached for her handkerchief, only to discover in frustration that she did not have a clean one at hand.
Really, it was shocking how difficult it was to keep her life in order these days.
Darcy quickly handed her his own handkerchief, which she took with gratitude.
“Thank you,” she whispered, setting aside her disbelief at his appearance in favor of the conventions. “It was, and is, very difficult. His passing was at least a quick one and the doctors are certain he did not suffer, but it has been a very hard thing for all of us.”
“I know,” Darcy replied compassionately, reaching into his inner pocket. “I have a letter from your elder sister which I hope will bring you comfort. I also have letters from your Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, but I believe you will wish to read your sister’s first.”
Elizabeth took the letter with a soft murmur of thanks and removed a hairpin from her head. A moment later, she had broken the wax and spread open the two page missive from Jane.
Darcy, intent on making her comfortable, turned his attention on the room.
It was not large for a drawing room, and it was furnished simply with wooden chairs and sofas covered with yellow and blue cushions.
There were no ornaments at all, and the walls were whitewashed as opposed to painted with more elegant colors.
There was a gasp from Elizabeth, and Darcy turned his attention on her. She was weeping in earnest now but her face was alight with joy and she gazed at him in astonishment.
“They are truly married, Mr. Darcy? Jane and Mr. Bingley?”
“They are,” he assured her. “I stood up with Bingley some six weeks ago. Your elder sister was a very beautiful bride.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, her face tearful, her smile glowing.
“Thank you, Lord,” she murmured aloud. “Thank you.”