Chapter 15 #3
With drawing paper atop a board on her lap, Miss Darcy made pencil sketches of a pair of mute swans that had just passed by. Her other hand rested upon Hector’s head, reminding him to not jump into the water just yet.
And I must not jump to conclusions. In conflict between her own hopes and her reason, Elizabeth dithered.
My head tells me that Miss Wright might act recklessly with some other man and enter into a secret engagement with him.
But my heart tells me that Mr Darcy would never be immoral.
Never would he condone a secret engagement, and I shall only believe it upon learning so from the gentleman himself.
From the lead punt, laughter rang out amongst the Bakers, Miss Hughes, and Miss Althea. While no fault could be found in such merriment, Elizabeth much preferred the calm quiet of Mr Darcy’s boat.
Her trepidation over spending time in the gentleman’s proximity had vanished, and enjoyment ruled the day. The season, the scenery, the company all were favourable to an afternoon of idyllic splendour.
Under a perfect blue sky, willow trees along the bank looked down at their own reflections in peaceful water.
Apple-green and icy-blue dragonflies dipped and darted.
Tall grasses and reeds undulated like waves.
“How can one not be moved by such verdure and nature as this?” Each moment brought Elizabeth deeper into serenity.
“You may think me silly, but I am apt to find myself in a state of wonder and tranquillity that is impossible to define when I am amongst such beauty.”
There having been no response, she turned to look at Mr Darcy.
The expression on his countenance spoke of something more than mere politeness.
Tenderness, perhaps? Certainly more than friendly admiration.
What was he about, looking at her in such a beguiling manner when another woman claimed an understanding with him?
I never should have agreed to go on this wretched boat with him.
Oh, stop being irresolute! I highly doubt that Mr Darcy would deceive either Miss Wright or me, and it is becoming increasingly unlikely that he has any sort of interest in her. However, if that is so, then such wild dishonesty and sheer rashness on that woman’s part is beyond belief.
Determined that her trust should be more firmly bestowed upon Mr Darcy and not someone she hardly knew, Elizabeth allowed herself to look upon the gentleman with renewed fondness, hoping against hope that her admiration was not misplaced.
Following the other two punts, he navigated away from Willow Bourn, through a shallow wetland, and onto a mere where throngs of birds sang from its willow-fringed edges.
His quant barely made a sound as Mr Darcy pushed the punt along, and he spoke softly.
“Somerset means ‘land of the summer people’. But, thanks to improved drainage, residents and livestock no longer have to migrate to the hills during winter flooding to only return when things are drier.”
Such a pleasant, resonant voice. I could listen to him all day. Elizabeth untied the ribbons beneath her chin as her eyelids grew heavy.
With a start, she realised the punt was no longer in motion.
Fully awake then, she noticed Mr Baker’s boat was circling round the pond and the one piloted by Tom had stopped on the left-hand bank.
By the looks of all their flapping about, Mr Wright and his eldest daughter seemed to be besieged by biting gnats.
Beckoning for Mr Darcy to draw alongside, Tom, at the till, pointed towards the opposite bank.
“There’s a couple of otters back there,” he called over, “to your right. I thought the ladies might like to watch them.” Tom then ducked his head to avoid being smacked by the parasol brandished by Mr Wright. “Careful there, sir.”
“Blasted gnats!” he swore, heedless of the ladies present.
Mr Darcy manoeuvred his punt into place beside his other boat, and the two gunwales lightly touched.
Putting down his pole, he opened the box and took something from it.
“Come and stand at the till, Miss Bennet, where you may use this spyglass to have a closer look. I shall see about fuelling the brazier with aromatic cedar and herbs. Smoke should keep the insects at bay.”
From the next punt came a strident, querulous voice. “Now Miss Bennet is in my way, and I cannot see the otters,” complained Miss Wright. “Mr Darcy, I am coming over.”
Disregarding the commotion as the gentleman helped the disgruntled lady aboard, Elizabeth smiled at the antics of the playful river otters.
Then Hector yelped in pain.
“Oh no!”
Was that Miss Darcy’s or Miss Wright’s cry of dismay? Elizabeth placed the spyglass upon the thwart.
Thump! Something or someone hit her from behind.
“Miss Bennet!” cried Mr Darcy.
She fell forwards with a splash, gulping and thrashing in the greenish water as she hit the muddy bottom of the mere. A thick layer of sediment began rising through the decaying vegetation all about her, and everything turned brown.
From above, came a second splash, quickly followed by a third.