Chapter Thirty-One #2
"Yes," said Mrs. Hayes, with the brisk composure of a woman moving from sentiment to business.
"Which brings me to the other matter. I came out to speak with you precisely because I think I may be of some further use.
My son will come to the estate this afternoon and mention to Mr. Bennet that the gristmill renegotiation is scheduled for tomorrow, and that Miss Elizabeth usually calls upon all of us today to collect the yields, but as she had not appeared he wished to enquire whether she was unwell. "
Elizabeth almost smiled. "I collected all the figures three days ago. I never leave such things for the last moment. And the gristmill I concluded yesterday."
"But Mr. Bennet does not know that," Mrs. Hayes said pleasantly.
"It is a generous thought," Darcy said, "and I am grateful for it. But we should have eight hours of lead before they think to look in any case. I would not have your family bear the weight of Mr. Bennet's displeasure on our account."
Mrs. Hayes looked at him with the expression of a woman who had already considered that objection and dismissed it.
"Mr. Darcy," she said pleasantly, "I have been on this land for thirty years. I am not afraid of Thomas Bennet."
He looked at her for a moment. Then, with the practical instinct of a man who recognises when an argument is lost, he reached into his coat.
"Can your son read?"
"Miss Elizabeth taught him herself."
He placed his card upon the table. "If Mr. Bennet should move against your family on account of today, or if circumstances here ever become intolerable under the current master or any future one, I want your son to write to that address.
There will always be a place for your family on my estate, should you have need of it. "
Mrs. Hayes looked at the card for a moment, then at him, with an expression that was not quite gratitude and not quite amusement but contained elements of both.
"It is very kind," she said. "Though I am too old to move north and too set in my ways to try.
Besides," she added, with the dry composure of a woman who has been paying attention to local affairs for thirty years, "from what I hear of the new master likely coming to Longbourn, my son may find himself wanting to move regardless.
I shall let him decide. He is the tenant now. "
Elizabeth rose. The kitchen was warm and the morning outside was not and she was aware, suddenly, of how short the distance was between this room and Longbourn and how long the hours between now and ten o'clock were going to be.
"I must go back," she said.
Darcy rose with her. Mrs. Hayes withdrew to the other side of the kitchen and found something to attend to there.
At the door he took both her hands and did not speak at once.
There was too much in the silence between them; too much that depended on the hours between now and ten o’clock.
If tonight failed, ten months would be a very long time to endure.
She knew he was thinking the same thing because she could feel it in the way he held on, as though letting go required more effort than either of them wished to show.
“If anything should change,” he said at last, “send word to Netherfield. Any word at all. I will come.”
“Nothing will change,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment, as though trying to decide whether certainty could be borrowed simply because she offered it.
“I shall be there before ten.”
“And I will be ready.”
He brought her hands to his lips, both of them, and held them there for a moment.
“Please,” he said quietly. “Be safe.”
She pressed his hands once, because if she trusted herself to speak again she might not leave at all, and turned back out into the morning.
The fields were bright now, the dew already beginning to burn away in the early light. She walked at her ordinary pace, kept her face composed, and thought about nothing at all.
She slipped in through the kitchen door before the house was properly awake and went up the back stair to her room, where she exchanged her boots for slippers and her walking dress for a day dress.
At the breakfast table she found Mary, Kitty, and Mr. Bennet already seated.
Mary had her book open beside her plate, a habit Mr. Bennet permitted chiefly because it kept conversation to a minimum.
Kitty’s presence was the unusual part. Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty generally breakfasted later, long after Mr. Bennet had retreated to his book room, but this morning Kitty sat silent with both hands around her teacup, her eyes lowered.
Mr. Bennet looked up as Elizabeth entered.
“Just waking up?” he said, his gaze dropping briefly to her slippers before returning to her face.
“Yes, sir.”
He gave a small nod and returned to his paper.
“I think it best that you do not leave the house today. If you must go out, you will take one of your sisters with you.”
Elizabeth reached for the teapot with a steadier hand than she felt.
“Yes, sir. What of the yield collections? It is the time of year.”
"I will accompany you tomorrow," he said. "You will not go alone. I have business in Meryton this afternoon in any case."
"Yes, sir," she said, and reached for the toast.