CHAPTER 5 – A Red Dawn #2
She caught the underlying meaning in his words, but before she could respond, a gust of wind rustled the nearby trees, drawing the attention of both to the shifting sky.
Mr. Darcy gestured towards the terrace that bordered the cliff. “The air today is stifling. A walk by the cliffs might offer some relief.”
“Indeed.” Although she acquiesced, her mind was still occupied with lingering preoccupations. “Let us see if they offer respite from this heat.”
They walked side by side along the stone terrace, where the distant waves crashed against the rocks below.
“How high would you say this cliff is, sir?” She placed a hand on the stone railing and peered down.
“Be careful.” Mr. Darcy held her elbow and pulled her back. “It is quite high. Dangerous, in fact. These balusters are centuries old and not well maintained.”
To prove his point, he shook the railing and a few loose pebbles tumbled into the abyss below. Elizabeth gasped.
“Your aunt should see to its repair. It is not safe.”
“My aunt does not care for Rosings’ upkeep. Neither did her husband, not even in his better years. Rosings has suffered from generations of neglect. A capable hand could make it prosperous again.”
She glanced at him. “What a shame. Perhaps she might benefit from your advice. Your experience as master of a grand estate could be of great use to her.”
“My aunt does not take counsel, nor do I intend to waste my breath offering it.”
The rigidity of his tone told her this was a subject he did not wish to dwell upon, so Elizabeth chose a prudent silence.
He exhaled, resuming their walk. “I recall hearing you play the pianoforte in Meryton, Miss Bennet. You have a fine touch.”
Elizabeth was also glad for the change of topic. “I cannot claim mastery, but I play tolerably well. And you, sir? Do you play any instruments?”
“The violin, though I have not applied myself to the instrument in many years,” he admitted. “I find music to be a curious thing—it can either quiet the mind or stir it beyond reason.”
She glanced at him. “Then I assume you prefer the former?”
“Not always.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “I enjoy a good Scottish air. There is something about the wild, untamed quality of the melodies that I find captivating.”
What an unexpected coincidence! Those were a favourite of hers, too. “Scottish airs have a certain raw beauty. They remind me of landscapes untouched by time.”
“Precisely.”
She found herself smiling in return, and their eyes locked for a fleeting moment. She looked away quickly, annoyed with herself for the warmth rising in her chest.
A brief silence followed, filled only by the crash of waves against the rocks. Elizabeth tilted her head towards the sky, grasping for distraction. “It is strange,” she murmured. “There have been no gulls or sea birds all day.”
Mr. Darcy followed her gaze, his brow furrowing. “You are right. It is unusual.” He glanced at the horizon, where the clouds had begun to thicken. “This stillness in the air is most uncommon.”
“The servants at Hunsford were quite disquieted by the red dawn. They say it might be foreboding.”
“Storms at Rosings can be quite challenging. Navigation becomes impossible, and the island remains separated from the mainland for many days. The villagers must depend on their stock to survive.”
“I cannot imagine living in such isolation.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “The letters my sister sent were delayed, and I felt certain I would go mad with longing for a word from her. She has been in London for the last two months. Did you happen to see her while you were there?”
The gentleman’s entire posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. “No, I did not have that pleasure.”
“Have you heard from Mr. Bingley?” She pressed on.
“He was well when I last saw him in London, a sennight before I travelled to Rosings.”
“Did he mention if he intends to return to Netherfield?” She refused to let the matter rest despite the gentleman’s reluctance to address what he knew.
“I believe. . .” Mr. Darcy appeared to be choosing his words carefully before he continued, “he is considering a more permanent estate elsewhere.”
A pang of disappointment coursed through her on Jane’s behalf. “That is unfortunate. The entire village had expectations that he would return.”
Mr. Darcy said nothing, his gaze fixed on the greyish skies. The wind picked up, carrying with it the first whispers of an approaching storm.
Footsteps sounded against the gravel behind them. “Darcy! There you are.” Colonel Fitzwilliam strode towards them, his usual easy demeanour tinged with urgency. “Lady Catherine has been asking for you. She is most displeased that you vanished from the gathering.”
Mr. Darcy let out a slow breath, his exasperation obvious. “Is she indeed? And what great offense have I committed now?”
The colonel huffed. “Must I list them all? She is particularly annoyed that you abandoned Anne to seek other company.”
Elizabeth arched a brow, glancing between the two cousins. Colonel Fitzwilliam caught her look and added with a conspiratorial air, “I dare say, Miss Bennet, your presence here—or rather your absence there—has been noted as well.”
“Let her note what she pleases.” Mr. Darcy’s jaw tightened.
“Very well.” The colonel released a weary breath. “You had best return before she sends a search party.”
“Excuse me, Miss Bennet,” the gentleman bowed. “I trust you will enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
With that, he strode away, leaving Colonel Fitzwilliam behind. Rather than following, he lingered beside Elizabeth and offered her his arm.
“Shall we return to the house, Miss Bennet? I would not wish for you to be caught in the storm.”
Elizabeth took his arm, and they began to slowly walk back towards the mansion. “Your cousin does not seem to enjoy his visits to Rosings. You bear it far better than he.”
“It is a long-standing obligation—one neither of us can easily refuse. My father expects it, and Darcy. . . well, he has his own burdens.”
“Burdens?”
“Let us say that my aunt has certain expectations for him,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a knowing look. “Expectations he does not entirely share.”
Elizabeth took his words into consideration, but remained silent.
“Sadly, Miss Bennet, marriage is a matter of convenience and strategy—especially for men of certain stature. As a second son, I must choose with prudence rather than heart. Darcy’s fortune, on the other hand, affords him more freedom, though even he is not immune to familial pressure.
My aunt has long intended him for a particular match. ”
“He seems to have resisted her designs so far.”
“Yes, but not without cost.” The colonel’s tone sobered.
“Challenging an influential relative is no small feat, especially for someone as principled as my cousin. He is rather unyielding when it comes to duty and decorum, and never hesitates to offer his best advice to those who trust his judgement.”
She tilted her head. “In what way?”
“Not long ago, he accompanied a friend of his to Hertfordshire to view an estate where the gentleman intended to settle. Darcy did not withhold his judgement, naturally—both regarding the property and more personal matters.”
Her breath caught. Hertfordshire? Was he speaking of Mr. Bingley and Jane? “Personal matters? Were they of some importance?”
“Indeed! Nothing less important than affairs of the heart.” The colonel chuckled. “His friend was on the verge of an imprudent attachment. Darcy believed it his duty to intervene, and he convinced the gentleman to withdraw.”
“Do you know the lady involved?”
“No. He never named her, only that he acted out of concern.”
Her grip on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm tightened as the sky darkened above them.
“What if he was mistaken?” Her steps slowed, but her heartbeat sped up. “Who assigned him the role as sole appraiser of his friend’s feelings? Does he believe his discernment so infallible as to appoint himself the judge on such matters?”
“Would you rather think his interference was officious?”
“Call it what you will, but no one should play arbiter with another’s heart.”
The wind gusted as the storm loomed ever closer.
“We should go,” the colonel said, hastening his pace, “or we shall not make it to the house on time.”
They hurried together towards the mansion.
When they arrived at the far end of the terrace, it took several minutes to reach the gardens.
Elizabeth gasped at the scene before her.
Chaos had erupted. The meticulously arranged celebration lay in disarray as servants dashed about, frantically attempting to retrieve furniture and decorations that were being swept away by gusts of wind.
The families scattered, children wailed in terror.
Tablecloths and everything not firmly attached spun through the air.
Branches bowed like reeds, and thunder rumbled so deeply that the ground trembled beneath her feet.
She was aghast. So much turmoil had come into her life in mere moments!
A whirlwind of leaves and dirt hit Elizabeth in the face, blinding her.
Thick raindrops began to fall, sparse at first, but soon turning into a torrential downpour.
She wiped her eyes and kept one hand in front of her face, protecting them from the debris as she struggled towards the house against the hauling wind.
Someone grasped her wrist and pulled her forward. “We must get inside!”
Just as the still, red dawn had foreshadowed, a storm was upon them.