Chapter 2
Chapter two
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked out the carriage window as they entered Meryton.
He had expected a middling country village and found, instead, a place more orderly than he would have expected of such a village.
Shop windows were clean and neatly arranged, the buildings well-kept rather than merely repaired.
Even the houses near the green showed signs of care, with flowers set out more from habit than display.
One shop in particular caught his attention: a bookseller, its modest windows nevertheless well stocked.
As the carriage turned down a lane, Darcy leaned back in his seat and allowed himself to consider that the visit might not prove as trying as he had anticipated.
Netherfield itself confirmed the impression.
It was well situated, the land fertile, the gardens carefully maintained.
Bingley, for all his easy manner, had chosen sensibly.
Darcy had long valued Bingley’s easy good nature; it complemented his own reserve. The carriage came to a stop, and Darcy stepped out, looking up at the steps leading to the front door. At the top, beside her brother Charles, stood Miss Bingley, raising her hand in greeting.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. This, he reminded himself, would require patience. After the necessary civilities, Darcy took the first opportunity to withdraw.
He closed the door of his bedchamber behind him and paused, leaning briefly against it.
Removing himself from Miss Bingley’s company had proved more difficult than he had anticipated.
He resolved, therefore, to change into his riding clothes and take a brisk ride before attending the evening’s assembly, an obligation Bingley had pressed upon him.
As he made his way down the stairs and out of the house, Darcy felt his spirits lift slightly. Miss Bingley would, no doubt, be occupied with her toilette, and he would enjoy a short interval of freedom.
***
Elizabeth was walking briskly down the lane toward the Smiths’ cottage. She glanced back and saw her maid, Millie, following with a second basket and struggling to keep pace. Elizabeth smiled and slowed until Millie caught up.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Lizzy,” Millie said, a little breathless.
“There is no need,” Elizabeth replied as they set off again. “But I should like to deliver these supplies and return to Longbourn without delay. You know how my mother is on the day of an assembly, and she will already think me remiss for not having spent the morning in preparation.”
As they approached the cottage, the door flew open and little Emma Smith ran toward her as quickly as her short legs would allow.
“Miz Lizzy! Miz Lizzy!”
Elizabeth set her basket down and, as soon as Emma reached her, lifted the child and turned her once in the air before settling her against her hip. “And how are you today?” she asked gently.
Emma’s expression grew solemn. “Mama tired.”
Elizabeth stooped to retrieve her basket and continued toward the cottage. Giving Emma a small, reassuring squeeze, she said, “I am sure you are doing all you can to be a good girl.”
Together, they entered the cottage. The lane lay quiet once more.
***
Darcy sat upon his horse, pausing a moment as he surveyed the lane. He had noticed the two women earlier and now found himself watching as the younger, addressed by the child as Miz Lizzy, stooped to lift the little girl and turn her lightly about.
He was surprised to find himself smiling at the sight. More surprised still that he had done so at all.
From her dress, Darcy judged her to be the daughter of a local landowner. It was simple in style, but well made, and worn with an ease that suggested both good sense and familiarity with her place in the world.
Realizing that his attention lingered longer than propriety allowed, Darcy turned his horse toward Netherfield and urged it forward. After a moment, he glanced back, expecting the cottage door to open again. It did not.
He smiled faintly and wondered whether she might appear at Bingley’s assembly that evening. He had scarcely turned away when a sudden scream echoed from the cottage. Darcy started, and his mount shifted beneath him, ears flattening as another cry followed, this one unmistakably distressed.
The cottage door burst open and the maid he had seen earlier hurried out, scarcely noticing him as she ran back along the lane.
Darcy hesitated only a moment. Then he dismounted, secured the reins to a nearby tree, and went quickly to the cottage, but stopped short at the door. Another scream sounded within, and that decided him.
Darcy pushed the door open and stepped inside.
***
Darcy looked about the small, dimly lit cottage. Though modest in size, it was clean and orderly. A wooden table stood at its center, surrounded by several chairs, and a fire burned steadily in the large hearth along one wall.
A door at the back of the room stood open, and in the doorway was a very surprised-looking young woman, whom he recognized as the “Miss Lizzy” the child had called after. She faced him directly, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him with a measured, appraising look.
She appeared about to speak when another sharp cry cut through the room.
Little Emma ran past her into the room and collided with Darcy’s legs.
He turned at once to the young woman. “My apologies for entering unannounced,” he said. “I was riding past and heard a scream.” Bowing slightly, he added, “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am staying at my friend’s estate, Netherfield. May I be of assistance?”
She glanced toward the inner room, from which the sound came, then back to him, and dropped a quick curtsey.
“Good day, sir. I am Elizabeth Bennet; my father’s estate is Longbourn. The Smiths are his tenants.”
Another cry sounded, nearer now, and Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. Smith has begun her labour earlier than expected. I have sent my maid to fetch the midwife, but I cannot know how soon she may be found.”
Emma ran back to Elizabeth, tears streaking her cheeks, her small hands reaching upward. Another low moan came from the inner room.
Elizabeth hesitated; she glanced back towards the open door and then down at the child.
Darcy stepped forward. “How may I be of use?”
Elizabeth studied him for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. A faint, grateful smile touched her lips. “Are you at ease with children, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, indicating Emma.
Darcy knelt before the little girl. “Good day,” he said gently. “I am Mr. Darcy. May I ask your name?”
Emma glanced back at Elizabeth.
“Go on,” Elizabeth said encouragingly.
“Emma,” the child murmured.
Darcy’s smile deepened. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Emma.”
Emma bobbed in what appeared to be an earnest attempt at a curtsey, nearly losing her balance in the process. Darcy’s expression softened further.
“And might I be introduced to your friend?” he asked, gesturing toward a doll resting on a nearby chair.
Emma brightened at once, scooping it up. “This is Baby Doll,” she announced solemnly.
***
Elizabeth, satisfied that Emma was settled for the moment, returned to the bedchamber and knelt beside Mrs. Smith. Taking her hand, she spoke softly.
“The midwife will arrive presently. You are doing very well.” She remained with her through the next pains, wiping her brow with a cool cloth and offering quiet reassurance. When at last she heard the cottage door open, Elizabeth rose at once and went to the main room, relief quickening her steps.
Her relief faltered when she saw it was only Millie who had returned, and alone.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked briefly to the table, where Mr. Darcy sat with Emma perched upon his knee.
He had paused in the midst of his story at Millie’s entrance.
Emma shifted impatiently, clearly expecting him to resume. “The midwife?” Elizabeth asked.
Millie shook her head. “She is over in Harpenden, miss. Not expected back until tomorrow.”
Elizabeth studied her for a moment. “There is more.”
Millie hesitated, then looked down at her hands. “Mrs. Bennet sent word you are to return home at once, miss, or they will go on to the assembly without you.”
A brief tightening crossed Elizabeth’s expression, but it passed almost at once. “Never mind my mother,” she said calmly. “Consider instead who else might assist us. Mrs. Smith is nearer her time than I had hoped.”
Millie thought for a moment. “The cook at Netherfield, Mrs. Potter. I believe she has assisted the midwife before.”
Darcy rose immediately. “I know the way to Netherfield,” he said. “If you wish, I can fetch her quickly.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a fraction before inclining her head, her gratitude plain but unexaggerated. “That would be of great assistance, sir. Thank you.”
***
Riding hard for the house, Darcy reflected that speaking to Bingley would be far easier than attempting the same with Miss Bingley, who was unlikely to view any interruption to her evening plans with indulgence, particularly if it threatened her dinner.
Upon entering the house, Darcy felt a measure of relief at the sight of Bingley in the hall.
“Bingley,” he said, more loudly than he intended. He checked himself at once and glanced about. Lowering his voice, he added, “May we speak in your study?”
“Certainly,” Bingley replied, though a slight crease appeared between his brows as he led the way and closed the door behind them. “You are not about to propose missing the assembly, I hope.”
“No,” Darcy said. “At least, not entirely.”
Bingley’s frown deepened, and Darcy continued.
“While riding, I passed a cottage where I heard a woman in distress. She is in labour, and the midwife cannot be procured. Mrs. Potter was mentioned as someone who has assisted before, and I offered to fetch her.”
Darcy paused, awaiting Bingley’s response.
Bingley regarded him for a moment, then gave a soft laugh. “You have a habit of involving yourself where you are not expected.”