Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
THE LAST RIDE
Darcy was very conscious of Elizabeth’s eyes upon him as he rode away with her brother.
Edward chattered away in obvious delight, but mindful of his purpose, Darcy tried to fix his attention upon instructing the child.
He taught him—or tried to teach him—about the reins, the bit, Mabel’s mane, the saddle, ever conscious that to Edward, his words were so much noise with little meaning.
He did often echo Darcy’s words; it was hard to tell whether he was simply copying the intonation or was taking in new information.
If he repeated the word later, Darcy chose to believe he had grasped the concept.
Yet, his pronunciation was usually so poor, had he not been the one instructing the child and fully aware of the context, he would not have recognised his speech as words.
As fully improper and unacceptable as his desires were, Darcy had wanted, almost desperately, to take Elizabeth into his arms. When Georgiana had offered her help, when Edward had understood Georgiana’s drawings, her emotions had been so close to the surface, her gratitude so complete and consuming, his awareness of both her needs and the strength she demonstrated beneath heavy burdens so absolute, it had been all he could do to stay frozen in his seat.
Instead, he had swallowed the lump in his own throat and tried to pretend it meant nothing.
His sister had been the shining star of this visit, and he was proud of her.
He would stay at Netherfield until after the Festive Season, he had decided.
It would give Bingley the opportunity to grow accustomed to Georgiana, not in any romantic fashion, but at least…
as a friend. Bingley would see her best points, her loyalty, her optimism, her talents.
Also, he had decided, he would allow his sister’s friendship with Elizabeth and Edward to continue.
Not only would it give her a purpose, a scheme, for the time they were here, but it would be a means for him to watch out for the little boy.
Just for a few weeks, he thought. If he makes progress, it will give Elizabeth more hope.
It is all I can give her. He must not come here himself, not again, but leave the connexion to his sister.
He turned the mare up the hilly path he had previously walked with Edward and Elizabeth.
He knew he ought to be trying to teach the boy more words, but as this was likely the last ride he would ever give the child, he found himself simply holding him steady, pointing out various scenes with words that Edward sometimes echoed, and feeling surprisingly nostalgic.
Will this be what it is like to teach my own child to ride?
But no, most children would be unlikely to have Edward’s troubles.
His own father had told him that by the time he was three, he had his own pony and the stablemaster had given him lessons.
However, as the little boy laughed for joy when Mabel briefly broke into a gentle trot, he thought: I will teach my children myself.
Darcy made the ride last until he could tell the lad was getting a bit restless, a good sign, he believed, that he would be ready for a different activity upon his return.
He tethered Mabel at Fox Hollow’s gate, and was relieved when Edward made no protest upon lifting him down.
Trustingly, he took Darcy’s hand as they walked up the porch steps and to the front door.
Perhaps he truly did understand that now he was to go on a walk.
Elizabeth must have been watching for them, as the door swung open at their approach. She crouched to Edward’s eye-level.
“Did you have a good ride?”
“Go ride!” he repeated, or perhaps responded, happily.
She opened her arms and he went to her; she lifted him easily enough, although he was such a sturdy lad.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said quietly, formally. “If Neddy could thank you too, he would.”
He nodded. “No thanks are necessary. My sister will return; she would like to paint and draw with Edward.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We shall look forward to her visits, Mr Darcy.”
She knew what he meant, he saw. Only Georgiana would return. This is the last time. A feeling of loss cascaded through him.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, so he thought she would not.
But after a slight hesitation, she asked him a surprising question.
“My sister visited yesterday, and I learnt she is…over-sensitive about our brother. She worries that her new friends at Netherfield might assume Neddy’s difficulty in speech as a flaw affecting our entire family.
My mother had six children, and only Neddy has any…
complications. His was a difficult birth. Our blood is not tainted.”
He raised one brow; such a thought had never even occurred to him. “It never crossed my mind that it might be.”
She blushed, biting her lip. “Would…others think it? Would Mr Bingley think it?”
Suddenly, he realised the meaning behind what she asked; her sister had obviously confessed an affection for Bingley. Unknowingly, she had handed him a weapon.
It would never occur to Bingley to think that one child out of six Bennets meant the family blood was somehow polluted.
Such things happened—a difficult birthing, as she had mentioned, an accident, fevers, or simple nervous weakness.
It was not, particularly, uncommon. However, if he were to mention it to his friend in such a way as to cast doubt upon the family, he could be made to think it.
Bingley had a tremendous confidence in Darcy’s opinions.
In any case, Georgiana needs all the help she could get.
The very notion sickened him.
“I cannot imagine anyone drawing that conclusion of you or any of your sisters.”
The smile she turned upon him at this answer was worth whatever it cost him. Neddy pulled off her ugly cap, playing with its ribbons, and as her curls tumbled past her shoulders, he caught his breath.
I will never see her hair, those thick and lavish locks, ever again.
He searched for any other words he might say, final words for this final conversation. “I had a talk with Colonel Forster, and Mr Wickham is no longer in the area. You need not fear him disturbing you.”
She frowned. “He never did disturb me. We had the one dance, that is all.”
“I suppose all the fears were my own, then.” He hesitated, but found himself saying more. “He once…he disturbed Georgiana.”
Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise.
“Georgiana? But she is so…” She did not complete her sentence.
She already understood, he realised, that Georgiana was very young for her age.
But who knew what poison Wickham had spewed regarding the Darcys?
Could he let her think less of him on that viper’s account?
I will never speak with her again.
“It was an attempt at revenge upon me, and a means of gaining access to her settlement. He is not…not a good man. I do not know what he told you, but I can assure you that he was given every opportunity and advantage of my father’s friendship.
He was paid thousands, wasted it all, and wanted more.
When I would no longer give it, he struck at her. ”
Elizabeth’s expression reflected her horror. “What an awful person he must be. Thank you for ridding the neighbourhood of him. I am sorry, very sorry, for what you have endured.”
The sun, which had been mostly hidden by clouds, chose that moment to stream in upon them.
Her eyes were wide and dark and full of compassion; her skin was extraordinary, so soft and perfect.
As he watched, she pressed a kiss upon Edward’s golden curls and adjusted her hold; the little boy wrapped his little arms around her neck more tightly.
For several seconds, Darcy could not move, much less speak—she was so lovely, a Madonna with the beautiful child, a picture so pure it was nearly divine.
Suddenly, Wickham was the very last thing on his mind.
“I am sorry too,” he managed, in a low near-whisper, feeling something more than grief.
A shadow crossed her expression, as if she felt it too. Nodding, she shut the door in his face.