8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Revelation
E lizabeth entered Jane’s room the next morning to find her sister already sitting up in bed and drinking a cup of tea.
“Good morning, Lizzy. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you. How are you feeling?”
“Quite well. I am nearly recovered. I think we may return home tomorrow.”
Elizabeth nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “That is good to hear. I like your Mr. Bingley quite well, but his sisters are another matter entirely.”
“And Mr. Darcy?” Jane asked as she peered over her teacup.
“He is less troublesome than I originally found him, but I do not enjoy his company.”
Jane only pursed her lips, then said, “Did you have any interesting dreams?”
“I did not dream of Mr. Bingley, if that is what you are asking.”
Jane looked at her innocently. “I was asking about dreams in general, Elizabeth. Not about Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth looked like she did not quite believe her, but she left the statement alone. “As a matter of fact, I did have a dream. It was unlike any I have ever had before.”
Jane shifted on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. “Tell me about it.”
“I was in a stable. It was very large and grand for a stable. There were many horses, but I was going to visit one in particular. It was a mare with a beautiful chestnut coat. I brought her carrots in my pocket. I knew she preferred them, and she ate them from my hand.”
“That is unlike your other dreams. You generally dream about people, do you not?”
“Generally, yes, though there have been a few where I was learning to ride. But he was always there.” Jane knew she referenced her faceless husband. “There was an older man in the stable. He asked me how I was that morning and if I wished to ride out.”
“Did he call you by name? That would make it much easier to find your husband.”
“If he said it, I did not hear it. He mentioned something about a particular trail having blooms that he thought I would like to see, and I told him I would come back that afternoon.”
“It must be frustrating not knowing who he is,” said Jane sympathetically.
“Sometimes it is. Other times it is comforting to know I will be happy in the future.” She sighed. “What I really wish is to have a dream of something that will happen soon. Everything seems so far away. It would be helpful to know what is going to happen next week.”
“Perhaps. Or it might make you behave in a way contrary to what is needed to bring about the necessary outcome.”
“Why must you be so logical?”
Jane shrugged. “It is a failing I cannot seem to remedy.”
Elizabeth smiled at her sister. “Do you feel strong enough to walk out this morning? We may keep to the gardens close to the house.”
“I believe I am.”
Soon enough, they were bundled against the chill and strolling arm-in-arm through Netherfield’s dormant rose garden.
“Just think,” said Elizabeth quietly, “you could be mistress of all of this.”
“Do not tease me, Lizzy! It is unkind.”
“Forgive me, Jane.” She looked slyly at her sister. “Though you know I am right.”
“Arrogance does not become you, sister.”
Elizabeth laughed and they walked on in silence for some time until a childish laugh shattered the stillness. They turned a corner and found themselves on the edge of a small lawn surrounded by hedges.
“Is that the little boy you were telling me of?” asked Jane.
Elizabeth followed Jane’s gaze and saw young Peter Hurst in the far corner of the lawn, pressing against a hedge. He was covering his mouth and laughing behind his hands.
“He looks like he is hiding,” said Elizabeth.
“Perhaps from his nurse. I do not see her.”
A female voice called out, “Master Peter! Where are you?”
The young boy laughed again and tried unsuccessfully to muffle the sound with his hands.
“He is adorable,” said Jane.
Elizabeth smiled at her sister. Jane loved all children and the feeling was mutual. Elizabeth was more particular.
A young maid came around the hedge at the opposite side from Peter. She saw him as soon as she entered the secluded lawn, yet she looked about and placed her hands on her hips while pretending not to see him.
“She is very good with him,” said Elizabeth.
The nurse pretended to look inside the hedges and beneath a particularly fluffy bush before finally finding the young boy. He squealed with delight and she picked him up and twirled him about.
Elizabeth sighed. “You are right, Jane. He is adorable.”
Jane did not respond, and Elizabeth looked at her sister to find a dazed expression on her face. “You are thinking of your children playing here, are you not?” she asked softly.
“You know me too well.”
“As sisters should.” She squeezed her arm. “Do not worry, dear. All will turn out well.”
They watched the nurse and her charge for another minute or two until the nurse put Peter down, claiming exhaustion. She said something about not being strong enough to keep spinning him over and over and suggested he perhaps ask his uncle.
“Did somebody say uncle?”
Jane’s head snapped up and Elizabeth followed her gaze to see Mr. Bingley round the hedge, followed closely by Mr. Darcy.
“Unca!” cried Peter. The boy jumped up and down and clapped his hands.
Bingley swept the lad up into his arms and spun about to Peter’s shrieks of glee. Soon the young boy was running across the lawn and Bingley was tearing after him. Peter eventually ran toward where Jane and Elizabeth were standing in the archway to the rose garden, and Bingley stopped in his tracks when he spotted Jane.
“Miss Bennet!”
“Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth looked back and forth between them with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. Shall I take up the chase?” Before Bingley could answer, Elizabeth took off toward Peter where he had stopped to see who his uncle was talking to. When he spotted Elizabeth coming toward him, his eyes widened a second before he turned and ran in wide circles, then headed toward his nurse. Elizabeth slowly ran behind the giggling boy, pretending he was too fast for her to catch up to. Peter ducked behind his nurse’s skirts, then peeked out at Elizabeth with a mischievous grin on his face.
“Well done, Miss,” said the nurse with a smile.
“Thank you.”
“Do you often play with children, Miss Elizabeth?” said Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth looked toward Mr. Darcy at the odd question. She had forgotten he was there, he was so quiet.
“I have cousins much younger than myself, and I often play outdoors with them, yes.”
He nodded, a slight tinge to his cheeks. She did not know what had caused it, but then he was an odd man.
She looked back to her sister and saw Jane was speaking with Mr. Bingley who was standing very close. Deciding to give them a little privacy, she turned back to Mr. Darcy. “What brings you to the garden this morning?”
“Bingley was considering some improvements to the shrubbery garden on the west side of the house and wished to show them to me.”
Elizabeth only nodded. She was out of things to say. Thankfully, young Peter had no such problem. He tapped Darcy’s leg and cried, “Up!”
Darcy smiled down at the boy and lifted him up into his arms. He seemed very comfortable with children, but Elizabeth thought it would be rude to ask how a gentleman such as himself had come by the experience. For all she knew, he was similar to herself and had a bevy of younger cousins. And he had said he had a much younger sister. Perhaps he had spent time playing with her when they were younger.
“Up! Up!” Peter cried.
Darcy stepped away from the ladies and threw the boy up into the air and caught him, a wide smile on his face.
“More!” Darcy turned and threw the boy again with a deep laugh.
Elizabeth watched him and something niggled in the back of her mind. That laugh…it seemed familiar somehow. As she ruminated, they started a new game. Peter would run in a wide circle around Mr. Darcy while trying to avoid being caught. Of course, there was no difficulty in catching a two-year-old boy, but Darcy let him make a few circuits before he nabbed him. He used Peter’s momentum to turn about and swing the boy high into the air, both of them laughing heartily, before placing him back on the ground to start the game again.
Elizabeth’s breath came faster. She had seen this game. She knew that laugh. She watched Mr. Darcy, her eyes wide and unblinking. Just then, the clouds broke and the sun shone brightly into the garden. She could not see Darcy’s face anymore, only his silhouette. Strong shoulders, a straight back. A small boy flying through the air. Laughter in her ears.
“Dear God!” she whispered. Ice ran down her spine and she felt as if she could not get enough air.
“Lizzy, are you well?” Jane was speaking quietly beside her, but Elizabeth could not make herself respond.
It was him. The man from her dreams. He was standing in front of her at this very moment.
“Lizzy!” Jane hissed.
Elizabeth jolted from her thoughts and turned to see Jane staring at her worriedly.
“Oh, Jane.”
“Come.” Jane took her sister’s arm and led her away from the lawn. Elizabeth vaguely heard her making their excuses, but she could not seem to focus on words. It was him! Mr. Darcy!
Jane pulled her through the rose garden they had walked in earlier and into an ill-kept shrubbery that might have been a small maze at one point. She found a bench, dusted it off with her hand, and pulled Elizabeth down beside her.
“What has happened? Are you well?”
Elizabeth, her heart pounding, could only stare at her sister for what felt like an interminable amount of time. Why could she not order her thoughts?
“It is all right, Lizzy. All is well. I am here.” Jane stroked her arm and spoke in soothing tones.
Gradually, Elizabeth’s breathing slowed, and she was able to focus on her sister’s concerned expression.
“Jane,” she swallowed, her throat thick. “The most unbelievable thing has just happened.”
Jane looked surprised. “What happened? I was only apart from you for a few minutes.”
“It is him.”
“Who is him?”
“Mr. Darcy.”
“What about Mr. Darcy?”
“The man in my dreams.”
“Oh.” Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, Elizabeth…Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
“How do you know?”
“Do you remember how I said there was a dream in summer, and you and I were sitting on a terrace watching our husbands play with our children?”
“Yes, I remember. You have had that one more than once.”
“More than a dozen times, and variations of it. It is indelibly pressed on my mind.”
Jane watched her steadily. “Go on.”
“It is him! When Peter ran toward him and he lifted him up, it was exactly like the dream.”
Jane looked confused. “So the dream was about Peter and not your own children?”
“No! The child in the dream was not Peter. It was Mr. Darcy’s silhouette I recognized from the dream. The way he moved…his laugh.” She looked down, thinking she sounded ridiculous. “I know it is strange, Jane, but I simply knew. It is him. I am certain of it.”
“But you do not even like him!”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I did not say it made sense!”
Jane was flabbergasted. She could only stare at her sister and open and close her mouth without speaking. What could she say, after all?
“Oh, what am I to do?”
Jane took her hand and squeezed. “There is nothing to do. You will not pursue Mr. Darcy any more now than you would have before. It would be immodest and likely make him uncomfortable.”
“And make him think I’m a fortune hunter,” grumbled Elizabeth.
“You will simply be open to him. If he asks you for a walk, say yes. If he wishes to sit near you, encourage him. Converse with him. Make an effort. That is all you can do.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I suppose you are right.” She looked at her sister with a grim expression.
“You were wildly happy in the dreams, Elizabeth. Remember that.”
Elizabeth nodded and rose, hoping the nausea in her stomach would abate soon.
Mr. Darcy! Her future husband! Who would have guessed?