Chapter 8
“Well then,” said the lady beside the well, brushing off her hands where they had rested on the dry red bricks, “You came, after all.”
“Am I late?” Mr. Darcy asked in some surprise. Elizabeth gave him a rueful look.
“Not at all. I just thought you might have come to your senses by now.”
“I am not so changeable.” he stood awkwardly for a moment and then dived into safer ground.
A bow was easily made, and formalities gave him something to hide behind.
Miss Bennet returned the gestures gracefully and then looked down the road.
The day was already hot, and the puddles were making the air shimmer.
“I should like to walk towards Netherfield Park, Mr. Darcy. My sisters might decide to take the air themselves this morning, and I do not wish to be interrupted.”
“Do your sisters know about our meeting?”
“Only Jane. I mean, er, Miss Bennet.” Lizzie corrected herself and shook her head.
Sudden frustration sharpened her voice: “This is intolerable! I feel like my hands are too large, my feet are too small, and my stomach is in knots. I cannot form a single sensible thought. Pray do not form your opinion of me today. You might think me a madwoman.”
“Would you prefer that to an angel, Miss Bennet? You seemed to dislike that, too.” he asked, offering her his arm. She gave him a sharp look as she took it.
“It is better to be an angel than a demon, sir. But I would far rather be a simple woman, if it is all the same to you.”
“It is. I am grateful to have the chance to learn about you.”
She nodded distractedly and gestured towards a branch in the path.
To the left, a tree tunnel of oak branches scattered soft green shade onto the dusty path.
To the right, there were potholes and humid puddles.
The pretty route led towards Longbourn, and the rough road eventually wound around to Netherfield Park’s gatehouse.
“What an ill prospect.” Darcy said.
“Would you like an alternative?” Elizabeth smiled suddenly, her eyes challenging him.
Before he could answer, she pointed towards a rise in the near-distance.
“There’s a rabbit trail that goes around Yette Hill.
Do you see it, where the rocks are? On the other side of the hill there is a stile, and then you just have to ford the river to get home.
I have never gone across the river, of course.
” she hastily added, seeing his amazed look, “But… the walk will take a few hours. When we get to the stile, it’s about a mile in either direction to Netherfield Park or to Longbourn. That can be where we…”
She swallowed hard then, her courage suddenly gone, and could not raise her eyes to meet his.
“Where we decide?” Darcy asked gently. She nodded, and he looked at the hill.
It did not seem far away enough to take up the whole morning. It loomed, making their decision seem much more ominous. The sun drifted idly through the sky like a ticking clock, counting away the seconds before their lives were forever altered.
Elizabeth’s life would change, whatever they decided. When she got home, everything would be settled. Her parents would find out that one of their daughters was to leave their home forever. Either Jane, or Elizabeth, would be thrown into a life that they had never asked for.
“Elizabeth…” Darcy said, and then winced and corrected himself, “Miss Bennet, I hope that there is no… no misunderstanding between us. I do not expect - that is, I would not demand anything from you that you would not allow. You asked me for a solution, and this was all I could think of. I can offer you everything gladly, madam, but you need only take what makes you happy.”
“How…” she struggled, “... kind.”
“What I mean is…”
“Oh, I know your meaning, sir. Can we walk?” she tugged at his arm a little impatiently, “I am afraid I may lose my nerve if we tarry much longer.”
They fell into step. After a few moments Darcy smiled and said in a very pointed way, “I apologise for tarrying, Miss Bennet. I heard that you were impatient.”
Her mouth fell open. “You heard that?”
“Yes. You gave me permission to find out about you, did you not? I made a survey of the locals.”
“The local gossips, you mean. Who else would be so crass?” she retorted with energy and then looked sidelong at him. A small, wicked smile appeared on her lips, “What did they say about you?”
“I did not ask them.”
“How unfair. I must insist that you do, sir. For every word they told you about me, you must tell me two words they have said about you.”
“I do not know any.”
“I am sure you can guess.” she teased, and then shook her head with a sigh, He looked utterly implacable. “Mr. Darcy, we are here because we need to find out about each other. Since the rest of our lives rely on this conversation, we might as well get started.”
“Would a list of words be sufficient to outline my character, madam?”
“It seemed to help you form an impression of mine! What other words did they tell you? And what opinions did they help you form? I am impatient, yes. I dislike being the last to find things out, and I like to make my own judgements before others tell me their own. I am also idle, because for much of our childhood we had no governess to teach us the value of routine and discipline. I do not practice my scales, and I sing very ill. I like reading but am no scholar. My favourite food is mutton. There, will that do?”
“I think I know even less about you now than I did before, Miss Bennet.” he laughed, shaking his head. “I dislike mutton.”
“Capital offence! What is your opinion about chutney?”
“I confess that I have none. Does anybody?”
“Only the very tedious.”
“Then I shall continue to be indifferent to it.”
“Very wise. And do you like to dance, Mr. Darcy?”
So it was that, bit by bit, they relaxed into their conversation. The hill proved to be further away than it had first appeared, and at times the rise was so steep as to pause their conversation altogether.
When they reached the crest, where the trail began, Elizabeth pointed out a few of the distant sights on the horizon.
Although he had lived here for several months, Darcy had spent very little time exploring the area.
Elizabeth had a great love for the countryside, and a softly humorous way of describing it that was a pleasure to listen to.
It was quite a jolt to Darcy, then, when she abruptly changed the subject.
“Will you tell me about your sister?”
“My sister?” he hesitated, feeling his throat close up. Elizabeth looked sympathetically at him, and Darcy knew how much pain must be written clearly on his face.
“I am sorry. You do not need to tell me anything. I just thought that, since you asked me to care for her, I should know a little about her.”
“About her illness?”
“No sir, unless you think it inescapable to talk about such things. I want to know about her.”
Darcy gave her a quick, grateful smile, “I can do that, Miss Bennet.”
It was an easy subject, and one that he enjoyed immensely. It had been a long time since anybody had asked after Georgiana with anything other than concern. It was as if his bright-eyed, sweet little songbird no longer existed.
How Darcy longed to see her sit at the piano, or embroider, or open a book!
They were all things she loved, he told Elizabeth, and yet there was more.
There was Georgiana’s dear nature, her way of looking at the world as if even the banal things in it were beautiful.
What of her generosity, which went far beyond her expected duties into something wholly good?
Darcy painted a glowing picture of his sister, with all the love he possessed, and then stopped when a shy hand touched his shoulder.
“Please,” Elizabeth said softly, “Mr. Darcy, you are unwell.”
He looked down at her in surprise, then laughed hoarsely and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I am not unwell, Miss Bennet. I miss my sister, and speaking of her is….”
“I should not have asked.”
“No,” he replied urgently, “You should have! This is… this is exactly what I…” He pulled out his handkerchief and scrubbed it over his eyes, defying the tears to return.
“Miss Bennet, you must see that things cannot carry on as they are. I love my sister dearly. I want to tell you about her - but it hurts me. I think of her playing the pianoforte, and wonder if she will ever play it again. I cannot think of her smile without thinking it may have been her last. I want to tell you about the Georgiana I love, but she may be gone forever.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, “Is she dying?”
Darcy shook his head. For the first time, voice cracking, he told someone the truth: “No, but she wants to.”
The other woman drew back, her breath hitching in her throat, “Mr. Darcy, I cannot… I know I promised, but… surely a doctor would be better at… oh!” now it was she who had to wipe tears away, “Mr. Darcy, surely you must know that I cannot help her? How can I? I know nothing about…”
“Neither do I.” he replied, “I have already failed her, Miss Bennet. I was not the person she needed, and when I stopped trying, she slipped away. I make things so complicated. I have a thousand solutions for her hundred problems, and all of them seem to be incorrect. What she needs is kindness, and patience, and love. I know you can…”
“I am not an angel.” Elizabeth said bluntly, “And you love her more than I.”
“No, you are not an angel.” Darcy put his handkerchief carefully back in his pocket and then looked at her face. A wry smile crossed his face. “Miss Bennet, I can see that you are frightened.”
“Frightened!”
“Yes, frightened. Not for your own sake, I think. Do you think that I will refuse to help your sister, if you tell me that you cannot help mine?”
Elizabeth shook her head, but an embarrassed blush appeared on her throat. “You are a man of honour, sir.”
“You do not know that. I hope that I am, but you do not know that. We are almost at the stile, Miss Bennet, so let us be very clear with one another now. My offer to you still stands. I know how impossible the task I have set you is. I do not expect you to succeed; I only ask that you try. Whatever the outcome, I shall not resent you.”
“And in return, Jane will be safe.”
“In return! This is not a trade, Miss Be… Elizabeth. Do not think of yourself as a chess piece, but as a player. Today, we can do something good for Jane; perhaps, in time, we can do the same for Georgiana. But we must do this together, Elizabeth. If we act alone, then they are lost.”
“I cannot save my sister,” she said quietly, “And you cannot save yours.”
“Precisely. The stile awaits us; I have not changed my mind. What is your answer?”
Elizabeth put her hand on the wooden fence and dug her nails into the splinters.
They crackled beneath her fingertips. The smell of woodchips and hot, damp grass was almost overpowering, but not as dizzying as him.
Unreadable and vulnerable, fierce and gentle, so full of pain and stubborn tenderness.
I am not an angel anymore. She thought, Now, he expects me to fail.
So why is he still here?
Darcy met her eyes, silent and waiting, and Lizzie thought she saw a little of the answer. Beyond her understanding, it lurked in the dark-unsaid and made her heart pound. Elizabeth stepped closer and took his warm hand in hers.
“It is this way.” she said, “We should speak to my parents.”