Chapter 18 #2
Breathing deeply of the damp sand’s earthiness, of the salty air’s sharp tang, and of wet dog, he stepped aside while Hector shook after his swim.
Continuing along in the direction of Cliff House, Darcy realised he had unconsciously made the decision to go towards Elizabeth rather than turning and walking away.
The day was dull, yet Somerset’s coastal beauty was undeniable.
Two seaworthy fishing vessels, laden with their catch, navigated in the village’s direction.
Overhead, gulls followed in their wakes, wheeling and making their raucous calls as the fishermen sailed homewards, safe and sound, to their loved ones.
Longing to have a special loved one to return home to, Darcy thought about love and marriage and what he wanted in a wife. Well, that requires no great mental effort. I want Miss Elizabeth Bennet to become Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy.
The peacefulness of the shore was the perfect place to allow his mind to wander.
He was done with the life of a bachelor.
At the very least, he wanted female companionship, a mistress for Pemberley, and a model for Georgiana.
And he wanted children. Miss Wright would have been a means to an end, but he realised he had been unhappy when he met her.
And she was an unhappy person. What kind of marriage would that be?
Was Bingley correct? Am I a killjoy? No.
He had been joyful since Elizabeth was back in his life, and she was uniformly happy.
Had he married Miss Wright, she would have made him miserable again.
In addition, her personal spending and poor management of her father’s households had played a part in the Wright family’s financial problems, and she had no dowry.
Most importantly, she was not Elizabeth.
But, before he could make his own amorous approaches, he had the affair of the letter to investigate. Affair. Poor word choice.
Lost in thought, he had not noticed that Hector had outstripped him until he heard the dog’s deep, happy bark that sounded like ‘woo-woo’.
Not only the dog’s tail was wagging, but his entire back end wiggled.
So enlivened was Hector that, at first glance, Darcy assumed the lady approaching had to be Georgiana.
But it was Elizabeth walking towards him, scratching behind Hector’s ear. The dog looked up at her with love in his eyes. I know exactly how you feel, boy. Woo-woo!
“Mr Darcy, did you lose this?”
“I tried. But, like the proverbial bad penny, he keeps turning up.”
The sky was still grey, but Darcy’s dull day had brightened considerably.
They took turns asking after the health of those at their respective houses. Then Elizabeth said, “Your sister sent round an invitation for the Bakers, Miss Hughes, and me to dine at Strandsmere tomorrow, and we have accepted.”
“Excellent. I shall look forward to it.”
“As shall I.” She glanced back towards Cliff House. “The Bakers and Miss Hughes are entertaining Mr Clark, a frequent caller, so I wished to give them some privacy.”
“Were you going much farther along the beach?”
“No, I should have turned back a moment ago, but a wet dog had other plans for me.”
Darcy searched for a way to carefully broach a couple of subjects. Instead he just blurted, “Would you agree that you and I have become friends during our time here in the cove?”
“Friends, yes.”
“As a friend, may I ask whether I have done something that has made me fall into disfavour? Have my dealings concerning your sister and Bingley, or my sister and Wickham, given you a disgust of me?”
“No, not at all.” It seemed she had been about to touch his arm but pulled away.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Darcy refrained from reaching for hers. “Yet something has changed between us.” His frustration was getting the better of him. “Will you not tell me what I have done?”
“I dearly wish I could, sir.” Inexplicably, she coloured deeply. “But I made a promise that I must not break.”
He was puzzled. “If it is not because of our sisters, then I am at a loss. At any rate, I have written to Bingley. It is now up to him whether he will return to Hertfordshire and renew his suit. And, speaking of a letter, I have been walking along this beach for some time deciding whether to seek an answer to something else.” He patted his breast pocket.
“I have here a single page of a letter that I would like to ask you about.”
“Then ask.”
“Who is Mr Morse?”
“Mr Morse?” She seemed bewildered. “I have absolutely no idea. Should I?”
From inside his coat, Darcy produced the paper, even worse for wear than it had been on his first of many readings.
“This was recently found on my boat and subsequently came into my possession. Will you do me the honour of reading a particular paragraph and answering anew my question about Mr Morse?”
She searched his features for a moment, then nodded.
Darcy unfolded the paper and passed it to her.
“Upon my word, sir! This is Jane’s hand. I would recognise it anywhere. I have been waiting a fortnight for a letter from her. But why do you have this? Where is the rest of it?”
“I shall find the answers to your questions. For now, though, please read the lines that have caused my turmoil.” Darcy pointed to the pertinent passage. “Aloud, if you please.”
“As you wish.” Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“I shall not say that your beloved Mr Mouse is dying, Lizzy, but I am afraid he may not be long for this world. I fear, dear sister, that your pleasurable nights will never be the same again. Return to Longbourn with utmost haste before it is too late to bestow one final tender embrace and bid your favourite a fond farewell.”
As Elizabeth mumbled through the passage, her occasional bursts of giggles were not at all what Darcy had expected.
“Oh, sir, I do enjoy a good laugh. But I do not understand. You say this was found on your boat and came into your possession. From whom did you receive it?”
“From a member of the Wright family.”
“Ah. Then it must have been found on the punt that Mr Wright and his two eldest daughters were on, the one Tom piloted.”
“No. It was found on my other punt, the one from which you went into the water. And that is, apparently, when it was found.”
“Then I gather that Miss Wright found it.” Elizabeth sounded faintly annoyed. “Because, by that time, she had come over to better see the otters. I do not understand why she did not return it to me. So, who put it on the boat? And why? And where is the rest of Jane’s letter?”
Darcy promised that he would find the answers for her.
“I hope, sir, that the solution to this mystery will be clearer than the bottom of the mere.”
“In the meantime, Miss Bennet, who is this Mr Morse? You must admit that those few sentences sound suspicious.” Darcy sensed that Elizabeth was becoming angry, so he quickly added, “I am certain there must be a huge misunderstanding and that you are innocent of anything untoward.”
“If you are certain, then why ask for clarification?” Her tone was decidedly cold.
“I beg you will humour me, madam.”
Spots of colour rose upon her cheeks. She met his eyes with a flinty glare. “I can give neither denial nor confirmation of your suspicions, whatever they might be. But you will be appalled when you learn the truth.”
“Miss Bennet, who is Mr Morse?”
“There is no Mr Morse, sir. Well, I suppose there are hundreds of them out there.” Holding the page in front of Darcy’s face, she stabbed at the name in question.
“It is difficult to distinguish Jane’s ‘r’ from her ‘u’.
As a consequence, what you think says Mr Morse is actually Mr Mouse, the name I gave to the sweet but annoying little creature that caused Jane and me many sleepless nights.
He lives inside our bedchamber walls at Longbourn and scurries about while we try to find peace.
He even chewed my favourite reticule, which I suppose was because of the wrapped confection within.
At any rate, Jane was simply being silly, teasing me about my ‘beloved’ Mr Mouse. ”
“Ah, yes. A pet. Just as I thought.” He smiled, hoping she would forgive him for thinking otherwise.
“Oh really, sir? Then let me just say that I am thankful you asked for an explanation instead of assuming anything illicit or, heaven forfend, suspicious. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to Cliff House.”