Chapter 22
When Elizabeth stayed at Netherfield Park for three days, seeing Jane through her illness, she spent thirty minutes in the library with Darcy. He completely ignored her as she did him. It was a dreary room lacking windows or any other opening allowing light. When she entered before, she felt the atmosphere did nothing to enhance the few books on the shelves. Now, she was grateful for a room far more comfortable and cleaner than the cellar.
Maids carried in blankets and pillows, placing them in piles on the empty fireplace hearth. Footmen hauled in the few unbroken chairs from the kitchen to add to those that remained there during the storm. As it was, there was enough for each of the ladies to make themselves more at ease.
Moving to Mrs. Hammond, Elizabeth inquired of her health.
“I am pleased to say that I am very well. Mr. Darcy assured me that he will be with me when I return to my cottage to make certain that I am able to remain there safely. Also, he volunteered to cover the cost of any repairs despite my assuring him that I had funds set aside. The Captain was generous with the prizes he captured. Always looking to the future, he was. Like your Mr. Darcy, Miss Lizzy.”
“My Mr. Darcy?” Her hand shot to her chest as she remembered the touch of his lips on hers. Was he hers? She wanted him to be. “Do not say so, Mrs. Hammond.”
“Elizabeth Bennet! I may be old, but I am not blind. I see the way you look at each other, with a longing that only the other can satisfy. I felt the same about my husband prior to our wedding. There was not a minute of the day when I did not want to be with him. He filled my dreams at night. My imagination was rife with all we would and could do once we wed. I will confess to you that the reality far exceeded my dreams. A man who is devoted to the care and comfort of his wife is far more valuable than all the gold in the world. You will know this the first time he holds your hand in his. You see, their fingers are longer and wider, and their palms seem to have muscles that we do not. You will then know what it means to be cherished.”
Elizabeth blushed.
“Ah, I see, dear girl. You already know the feel of Mr. Darcy’s hand in yours. Is it not as I say?”
Exhaling slowly, Elizabeth barely nodded. “Yes, it is as you say.”
The corner of Mrs. Hammond’s mouth lifted. “You have so much joy to experience should you both commit to each other. There is no greater happiness in this life to be one flesh like God intended.”
Elizabeth lapped up each word like a thirsty pup.
When Mary approached, Mrs. Hammond skillfully changed the subject.
“Miss Mary, we were discussing the many ways the storm might change the course of daily life here in Hertfordshire. Have you an opinion on the matter?”
Mary hesitated slightly before asking, “You want to know my opinion? No one ever asks my opinion.”
Elizabeth’s stomach seemed to drop to her toes. Was that true? Had Mary been so ignored that she was shocked at Mrs. Hammond’s question? What a shame that Elizabeth never noticed that they had this in common. Deeply regretting that she was blindly unaware, Elizabeth watched with interest as color filled Mary’s cheeks.
Her sister replied, “Mrs. Hammond, I wonder who will take charge of the children who might have lost parents or the families who lost their farm animals and crops. I worry about the servants here at Netherfield Park. As far as I know, Mrs. Nicholls has been the housekeeper and Mr. Morris the steward all my life. Since I was a little girl, I would see Cook shopping for goods at the market in Meryton. She always scared me because of her gruff speech. Now I see how Mr. Darcy and the colonel offer her deference. What will happen to them now that there is no house, no reason to use the kitchen, and no crops to keep? I fret over their future greatly.”
Mrs. Hammond patted Mary on the back of her hand. “Dear girl, it says much about you that you spent your precious minutes worrying about the welfare of others and not yourself.” Mrs. Hammond tugged on Mary’s hand until she sat alongside the elderly widow. “I admit to being disappointed at not hearing you perform last evening. I am certain you had a lovely piece or two picked out.”
“You did?” Mary blushed. “I cannot say how lovely it would have been since none in my family value my long hours of practice.”
“That may be so. Nevertheless, my girl, you have shown yourself to have a talent far more valuable than music. You have a tender heart filled with compassion. Do you know how precious this is in a practical sense? Why, dear girl, should you cultivate this to a greater degree, you will be a great lady someday.”
“I will?”
Mary looked younger than ever when her expression changed from dour to wonder. Her smile was brilliant, and her eyes sparkled. Elizabeth had never seen her as pretty.
“Truly.” Mrs. Hammond then taught both girls a valuable lesson. “Think of it this way. When under trial, which is more valuable? A diamond necklace from a wealthy man or a helping hand from a maid of all work?”
“The helping hand?” Mary guessed, as did Elizabeth.
“When people are most in need of human kindness, wealth and social standing mean little if nothing at all. Neither does having the most beautiful singing voice or skill on an instrument. Empathy cannot be bought, nor can it be inherited. Can it be earned? No. Can it be learned? Not typically. You see, a person humble enough to want to learn usually already has a measure of it in place. The key is not letting this beautiful gift go to waste. Practice makes it happen without thought. If you do this, Miss Mary, you will achieve happiness. I promise.”
Mary jumped to her feet. “I thank you, Mrs. Hammond.” Hurrying to their mother, Mary asked, “Is there anything I can do for your comfort, Mama?”
Mama rested the back of her hand on Mary’s forehead. “Are you well? Do you have a fever? Your cheeks are pink, and your eyes are bright.” She peered closely at her middle daughter, unsure if it truly was her. “I…well, I guess I…no, I do not think I am in need at the moment, but I do appreciate that you asked, Mary.”
Mary twisted back and forth until her hem twirled. “No, Mama. I am well. Please pardon me so I can ask the others if they would need a word of encouragement.”
Mama’s chin dropped. Then she smiled.
Elizabeth could hardly believe what she had seen and heard. Until she figured out what exactly happened, she cursed her own foolishness. Again, she was reminded how little she knew about people despite years of pride in her accomplishment of sketching characters.
She almost laughed aloud at her foolishness. Could it be that she was far more prideful than Darcy was when they first met? Was it possible that she was the ridiculous Bennet daughter instead of Mary, Lydia, and Kitty? Speaking of whom, in spending more time at Netherfield Park, what would she learn of her second youngest sister? That Kitty had as strong a personality as Lydia or even Mary? That she had unrecognized sterling qualities like Mrs. Hammond identified in Mary?
Good heavens!Elizabeth never knew herself or any of her sisters, did she?
Afraid to sit next to Mrs. Hammond in case there was more discipline coming her way, Elizabeth moved to an unoccupied corner where the few agricultural texts rested on the shelves. As she reflected only a few days ago, who was Elizabeth Rose Bennet?
Shaking her head with confusion, she knew how frustrating the topic was. Instead of wasting time on a subject of little importance, she decided to see if she could be of assistance in the kitchen. Like Mary, she had been apprehensive around Cook. No longer. Elizabeth now knew her to be a hard-working woman who brooked no nonsense or foolishness, yet her whole life centered around helping others.
From the doorway, she could see all the way through a kitchen undergoing a gigantic reform to the stables beyond.
She saw him. His jacket was off, so he wore only his waistcoat and fine lawn shirt over his trousers. His sleeves were rolled up, displaying strong arms and large hands that once held hers tenderly.
The thump of her heart pounded in her chest. Elizabeth doubted that she would ever be able to rid herself of the image. Nor did she want to.
Her breath caught in her throat. Mr. Darcy was magnificent. If only he could be hers.
Darcy watchedin concern as his coachman skillfully made the turn into Netherfield’s stable yard. His carriage had made two trips to Meryton and back with Bingley’s guests packed inside and up top. The other available carriage belonging to Bingley was closely following behind them. They had to clear the roadway of fallen trees and debris, so the task took far longer than expected. He fretted the whole time they were gone like a mother hen whose chicks were in the farmyard for the first time.
Helping to unstrap the harnesses, Darcy assisted in any way he could. Cook was tending a small fire with a pot suspended over the flames at the side of the small kitchen garden away from the house. Already, the woman had baked some sort of bread-like loaves and fried pork over the coals. The yard smelled far more divine than the cellar.
“Mr. Darcy, sir,” Cook loudly barked. “We will be having tea as soon as the water boils.”
He smiled at the woman and then bent to tend the coals for her. Glancing up, he spotted Elizabeth through the doorway.
Caught staring at him, Elizabeth turned her face away, embarrassed.
“Miss Elizabeth, do join us if you are able. The sun is shining, and the breeze is slight.” He donned his jacket after rolling down his sleeves. Approaching him, she wrapped her fingers around the arm he offered.
“I thank you, sir. Indeed, the air is fresh and crisp.” Glancing away from him at her surroundings, she said, “Mr. Bingley’s servants have been busy. When we first left the cellar, I could see there was debris on the lawn. It looks to be almost gone.”
He directed her attention to a growing pile on the far side of the dower house. “There is still much to accomplish.” Shaking his head, he admitted, “I fear the house will be rendered uninhabitable.”
When she pointed to his carriage, she asked, “How did your coachman find the buildings at Lucas Lodge, Longbourn, and Meryton?”
He was unsurprised by her query. “As with Longbourn and Mrs. Hammond’s houses, most of the older buildings are made of stone and brick. Therefore, I am able to pass on my coachman’s report that there are slate tiles and thatching missing from the roofs. Some of the windows are intact while others are not, but the buildings remain standing.”
Her hand went to her chest. “Thank the heavens!”
“Yes, it truly was a miracle for some. For others like the Long family and your aunt and uncle in Meryton, they will need to be housed at the Inn or with someone else until they rebuild. Every property has trees lying hither and thither, as well as outbuildings that will need to be replaced. The innkeeper reported that the only injury he heard about was the blacksmith, who failed to secure his tools. Apparently, it will be a long recovery, but eventually, he should be able to swing his hammer again.”
“I am grateful to hear it, sir. We can only hope the succeeding reports are as positive, though I fear for those who were unprepared.”
He glanced at where Cook tended the teapot. “Mrs. Nicholls and Cook mentioned that they started sending out food baskets at the end of the third day after the wind started three weeks ago. They asked the tenants to be ready should things worsen and be ready to celebrate if they did not. It is a lesson in preparedness that we practice in Derbyshire. At my London house, valuable artwork is stored in the hidden passageways on the main floor of the house during a storm. We keep enough blankets and food items stored in the wine cellar for everyone’s use.”
Intrigued, she asked, “You have hidden passageways? What a wonderful discovery when you were a child. Did you and your cousin hide away in them?”
“Ha! Wickham and Richard would hide from Father after causing mischief. When they turned fifteen, that changed. George Wickham started associating with an unsavory crowd by the docks, where he learned things that no responsible lad should know. From then on, we avoided each other like the plague. As it was, by then, I had far too much to do to play games in the passageways.”
Darcy could not stop himself from searching the road to Meryton.
She lightly tugged at his arm, stopping him. “You are concerned about him.”
He sighed. If she only knew. He wished he could tell her the truth. “I am concerned about the whole regiment. According to the innkeeper, many of them took refuge in the back rooms of the inn. I was not able to find out if Wickham was amongst them.”
“I do hope they are all in good health. You know, Lydia said the oddest thing while we were in the cellar. She asked if we could select which of you two men were cousins if the three of you, yourself, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Wickham, were placed within a group of strangers. She commented on the similarity between the other two, that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Wickham’s coloring and some of their expressions were the same. Then, instead of choosing you and Colonel Fitzwilliam as cousins, she grouped you with Mr. Wickham since your countenance and eyebrows are similar.”
He stared at her, each observation she uttered chilling his insides. It took a moment for him to compose himself enough to speak. “And, how did you reply?”
Never was he more grateful when she laughed. “I told her that no one could pick me out of a crowd to be a Bennet daughter since I am the only one with dark hair and eyes. Rather, they might choose Maria Lucas since her hair is almost the same shade as Kitty’s.”
Had she figured it out? Before he gave in to the temptation to confide in her, he suggested they return to the house. On the way to the door, a gust of wind caught her hem and the tails of his coat. Immediately following it was a blast of air that extinguished Cook’s fire, blowing dangerous coals about. Gratefully, the ground was still soaked. The approaching roar of tempestuous, unstable air almost deafened them.
“Get inside!” he yelled to anyone who could hear. “Run to safety! Now!”
Grabbing Cook’s arm on their way to the house, he hustled both women ahead of him. When she stopped to grab the hot pot of water, he pushed her from behind. “No, go!”
Footsteps pounded behind him. Richard yelled, “Move!”
Darcy felt his cousin’s hand at his back, clutching the fabric of his coat. Once the ladies crossed the threshold, he flung his arm back to pull his cousin, Bingley, and Hurst into the kitchen.
“Good lord! Where did that come from?” Hurst blurted as he attempted to smooth the few hairs he had remaining on his head. “Where is my wife?”
“In the small sitting room next to the library.”
Hurst scoffed, dismissing the woman he wed. “I’m for the cellar, gents. Feel free to join me. With the officers and that clergyman gone, there will be more for us to drink.”
Bingley followed his brother-in-law. Darcy and Richard escorted Cook and Elizabeth to the library, where the others were already gathered.