Chapter Five #2
“If Miss Baxter is put out, she only has herself to blame,” she insisted. “Had she been a less apt teacher, I would have been a terrible pupil.” Turning to her sister, she asked, “Should you like to learn, Mary?”
“I would not want to inconvenience so many when I am all but certain I will not be able to become a capable rider,” she answered meekly.
“Mary, of course you must decide for yourself, and we will not press you, but how can you be so certain? It is my understanding that you have not before attempted it,” Mrs. Gardiner offered.
“That is true; however, Mother always says I am the least graceful of her daughters, so I should not attempt any accomplishment that demands agility or coordination. It is my understanding from the books I have read that riding requires both.”
Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner shared a look of sympathy, which Elizabeth noted before offering her own perspective.
“Though I am perhaps the least expert rider present, I might venture my opinion that becoming an adequate rider requires mostly the determination to do so alongside the patience and expertise of an instructor. As Aunt Gardiner said, no one will force you, but if you do wish to try, you can do so knowing if you do not enjoy it you can stop at any time.”
This seemed to reassure the young girl, who gratefully accepted the offer. Plans were made for two days hence, as she and Lizzy had their first music lesson of the summer the following day.
“Wonderful,” declared Mr. Darcy. “Before we take our leave, Miss Darcy has a request to make.”
He looked encouragingly at his daughter.
“We would be honoured to have you as our guests for dinner at Pemberley. Would tomorrow evening be convenient?”
The invitation was delivered with a mix of shy formality.
Elizabeth knew that after her year at seminary, Georgiana would be putting into practice those skills and accomplishments she had learned, one being how to become an accomplished hostess.
“We would be delighted, Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner responded. “We have no fixed engagements tomorrow evening, and we would like nothing more than to join you at Pemberley.”
Shortly thereafter, the Darcys took their leave.
After giving her friend a fierce hug and expressing her excitement at being together once again, Elizabeth waved off their carriage.
She then invited Mary to join her on a visit to the stables.
That evening, as they settled into their beds, Mary in the chamber Jane had previously used, both sisters looked forward to their summer at Barlow Hall with pleasure.
Elizabeth placed her brush on the small stand beside her easel.
What she wanted to do was throw it into the lake she was currently attempting to paint.
Despite a love of art of all sorts, Elizabeth never had much of a desire to learn them herself.
She had pointed that out to Mary last week, when her sister proposed they attempt some drawing together on a rainy day.
Mary then threw Elizabeth’s own words back in her face.
“Though I am not especially talented at any visual art, I do enjoy the effort and believe that all it takes to develop a modicum of competence is determination and a good teacher,” Mary said with a slight smile.
Though delighted that her shy sister was attempting the art of teasing by parroting back Elizabeth’s own words to get her way, Elizabeth was not well-pleased with the result, that being an afternoon spent attempting to draw the Gardiner’s very plump tabby cat, Whiskers.
When Mary presented her incredibly lifelike drawing at dinner, the family exclaimed and praised her.
Mary insisted Elizabeth show hers as well.
“And what was your subject?” Mr. Barlow asked.
“Can you not guess?” Elizabeth responded, knowing full well that her drawing did not at all resemble the rotund feline. Or anything at all.
“A pillow?” Mrs. Gardiner offered.
“No.”
“A pile of leaves?” Mr. Barlow tried.
By this time, Mary was having trouble holding in her giggles.
“Shall you not defend my work, sister?” Elizabeth asked, her voice accusatory. “It was you who insisted on the activity.”
“I know and I probably should apologise, but I cannot,” Mary said. “It was still a useful exercise and I am certain you learned a great deal and will be even better next time.”
“Next time?!” Elizabeth retorted.
Aunt Gardiner agreed. “Even if we cannot master a task, the effort will yield fruit.”
“Fruit!” Mr. Gardiner exclaimed. “It is a bowl of fruit.”
“It is not,” the sisters answered at once.
“Then what?” Mr. Barlow asked.
“I drew the same thing as Mary. It is Whiskers. Can you not see his eyes here?” She pointed to the two swirls which were more in the centre than at the top of the circular shape.
“Of course, now I see it,” Mrs. Gardiner said, staring intently at the amorphous grey-black shape. “I see a mouse in her . . . mouth? Yes, quite creative.”
Lizzy pulled the paper back to examine it herself. “No, that is her paw or maybe paws.” Then she sighed and lamented, “I am hopeless.”
Though reluctant to agree, the family had few truthful protests to offer, so the subject was changed.
They would likely have a similar reaction to her painting of Pemberley’s lake.
It was really just several streaks of blue running together underneath a roundish yellow spot.
Elizabeth stepped back from her less-than-masterpiece and turned her face to feel the heat of the real yellow spot.
Georgiana and Mary had set up on a small hill to Elizabeth’s right. They both seemed to be working diligently, occasionally admiring the other’s progress but for the most part focusing on their paintings which, even from her vantage point, Elizabeth could tell were far superior to her own.
Deciding she had reached the end of her very limited abilities in rendering the scene before her, Elizabeth removed her smock and made her way down to the lake’s edge.
She was glad Mary and Georgiana were enjoying the activity and each other’s company, and though she had no real interest in becoming an accomplished painter, Elizabeth did enjoy being good at things.
Therefore, it chafed ever so slightly that she was a complete failure at both artistic mediums she had tried.
Elizabeth found a small bench which had been placed at the edge of a field that abutted the lake shore.
When she sat down, she heard the tinkling of water and saw a small stream a few feet to her left which slipped from the nearby wood, down a small cluster of rocks and into the lake from just enough of a height to produce a lovely melody.
She closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her cheeks.
As she inhaled, she smelled lilacs and looked to see the lavender flowers hanging in full bloom from dozens of bushes which lined the shore on the opposite side of the stream.
The fragrant flower was one she had not seen before this summer.
She imagined they must grow near her home as well as in other places around Derbyshire, but her first encounter with them had been two weeks earlier, strolling in Pemberley’s far garden while Georgiana and Mary took tea with Miss Baxter.
None of those ladies wanted to venture out so soon after the drenching rain they had experienced early that morning.
It rained all night, continuing until just before the Bennet sisters had walked to Pemberley.
For Mary, that two-mile journey on a muddy path was more than sufficient to satisfy any desire to be out of doors.
For Georgiana and Miss Baxter, the sight of the girls’ soiled boots was sufficient to satisfy them as to the disadvantages of an outdoor ramble.
But they all insisted Elizabeth enjoy the gardens on her own after declining her suggestion that they all go out.
Mrs. Reynolds had taken Lizzy’s boots upon arrival, and they were now dry and clean.
Elizabeth slipped them on and promised the others she would not be long.
All were sufficiently acquainted with her to doubt this.
Other than the brief hour in the morning when Mary and she had made their way to Pemberley, it had been raining nearly non-stop for three days.
Elizabeth did not like to be kept indoors for so long, and her friends knew this.
The cloud-streaked sky was filled with dots of orange and yellow.
The muted light touched the tops of the tallest trees lining the garden path.
Chasing the filtered sunshine, Elizabeth turned down a path she had not walked before.
After a few steps, the most delightful scent she had ever encountered reached her.
Nose-first, she sought the source and was soon in a cluster of green-leafed bushes—each covered in clusters of light purple blossoms. Gently, she pulled one to her nose to inhale its scent.
The soft petals tickled her skin as she breathed in the fragrance.
So enchanted was she with the sight and scent of this new flower that Lizzy did something she might never have done before—failed to notice the presence of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
The gentleman had been sitting on one of the two stone benches at the centre of this particular copse of trees and bushes.
Though a book lay beside him, he had paid it little mind and had, instead of reading, been pondering a particularly challenging matter Pemberley’s steward had laid before the Darcy men earlier that day.
He had not noticed Lizzy’s entrance until she stood, several feet to his right, hands cupping a lilac blossom, smiling in delight.