Chapter 18
Buttermere
If I were to place a time when I gained a sister, and consequently a brother, I would say it was the week after we left Keswick for Buttermere. Truthfully, I should not call Darcy brother—though he was possessed every attribute I had ever imagined a brother should have.
I could not repine when our week at Keswick came to an end, for there remained so much more of the Lakes to visit—fells to climb and expansive views to exclaim over—that departing one beautiful district for another was never a hardship.
We came to Buttermere following the road through the Vale of Newlands, ascending steeply to Newlands Haws.
Once again, our Cumberland Bays were harnessed with Mr. Darcy’s horses.
The ascent to the Haws would have been difficult indeed with just two horses—the landau, without the benefit of a lightweight body, was a very heavy vehicle.
We hired additional horses for the Bennet carriage, which followed behind with the baggage.
In the descent from the Haws to Buttermere, the road runs at an alarming height above the ravine which separates it from the opposite hill.
The chain of mountains revealed during the descent is the most magnificent in the whole circumference of the Buttermere valley.
The appearance of High Stile and of the whole horizon from Green Crags to Red Pike is scarcely equalled.
Near to the lake, we passed a very small chapel—certainly not capable of holding more than half a dozen households—and soon thereafter came to the Fish Inn.
We were expected, of course, as Mr. Darcy had sent a man ahead to reserve our rooms. It had a very pleasant aspect: two storeys, whitewashed, with three charming bay windows decorating the front.
After refreshing ourselves, we came down to the small taproom where, much to our surprise, we encountered Lady Augustus and her daughter.
We were very much pleased to see them, for their company in Ambleside had grown quite agreeable.
Truly, Miss Eustacia was a sweet thing, and, once the awkwardness that always accompanies making a new acquaintance was resolved, she and Georgiana had become firm friends.
“Miss Darcy! We did not expect you here—we had thought you intended to remove to Keswick?”
“And that we did,” replied Georgiana brightly.
A shortish, fair-haired gentleman, who had been sitting with the ladies, stood and bowed. “Lady Augustus, might you introduce us?”
“Oh, silly me. The Right Honourable William Lowther—our dear friends, Miss Darcy and…” At that moment, there was a large crash from the kitchen, followed by a rather sheepish maid who was clutching a metal tray.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, me lady, I’ve gone an’ dropped t’ tray—it fair made a right racket. I were just wonderin’ if ye’d care fer a fresh pot o’ tea?”
“Oh, you are such a sweet dear. Indeed, we all had quite a fright, but it is of no matter. No, we shall shortly be going in to dinner.”
“Miss Eustacia has spoken much about you, Miss Darcy,” said Mr. Lowther, bowing to us. “Are you to spend much time at Buttermere?”
“Perhaps a full day, for we wish to continue to the coast, and then visit Wastwater.” Georgiana glanced at me, and gave a conspiratorial wink. “Elizabeth has persuaded Fitzwilliam to accompany her in an ascent of Scawfell Pike.”
“Surely not!” exclaimed Lady Augustus. “I cannot conceive of a woman—of proper delicacy—partaking of such. Certainly, Eustacia would never. What do you think, Mr. Lowther? Would you allow a sister to climb mountains?”
“I do not have the pleasure of a sister, Lady Augustus. I truly cannot say. For myself, I am not a rambler, and I prefer the pursuit of gentler occupations, such as I have enjoyed in your and Miss Eustacia’s company.
” The gentleman gave Eustacia a look of adoration; the lady returned his attention with similar affection…
Lydia giggled. ‘Oh, Lizzy, I believe they are very much in love.’ I smiled—certainly she had the right of it. Darcy was safe!
“And you, Miss Darcy, do you intend to scale the peaks with your sister?” asked Mr. Lowther.
Georgiana laughed. “Me? I’m not so silly. They shall go off, and my father and I will take a ride, for I’m told it is a lovely valley. To my mind, best seen on horseback.”
At that moment, the remainder of our party entered, and we immediately went to the dining room.
Like many country inns, there was one large table, shared by all the guests.
That evening, only Lady Augustus, Miss Eustacia, and Mr. Lowther ate with us.
I learnt that the gentleman was the Member of Parliament for Cockermouth, and a cousin to Sir Henry Augustus.
It would appear, were the two families to be united, that Sir Henry would gain an ally in the Commons, and Mr. Lowther a delightful hostess for entertaining his parliamentary colleagues and the prominent citizens of his electorate.
After the meal, Mr. Darcy requested some entertainment—the parlour, unusually for a small inn, possessed a piano-forte of some quality.
I noticed Lady Augustus looked towards Georgiana and me with some apprehension.
I demurred on the pretext that I had planned to best Darcy at backgammon.
Georgiana was sitting with Mrs. Bennet, both engaged with their stitches.
Miss Eustacia was prevailed upon; Mr. Lowther came to stand by the instrument, turning the pages. All was how it should be.
* * *
I moved my piece with a triumphant flourish, with more bravado than was warranted. “That, Darcy, is your fourth double in a row. If I were of a suspicious nature, I should accuse you of witchcraft—or is it wizardry?”
“I would prefer the moniker wizard, for that denotes a wise man, skilled in the arts. Whereas witch applies to any person—male or female—accused of practising witchcraft.” Darcy smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“But if you wish to blame the occult for your defeat, I shall not contradict you.”
I leant closer. “Oh, you mistake me entirely. I never lose at backgammon by chance, only by design. I have yet to decide whether I should let you win, or merely enjoy prolonging your mistaken belief that you might best me.”
“You are remarkably confident, for one who has a piece blocked by my anchor.”
“My father called it stubbornness,” I said, my gaze flicking to Georgiana, who sat sewing beside Mama by the hearth. “But then, he never saw me truly determined.” My eyes returned to Darcy. “Speaking of resolve, Georgiana said you will accompany me on my ascent of Scawfell Pike.”
“Surely not, sir!” exclaimed Mama from the fireside. “Please, do not encourage her. We have made many, many ascents—Loughrigg Fell, Catbells. Surely, Lizzy, they are enough?”
“They are mere hills, Mama. I have been reading about Scawfell Pike—did you not know it is the highest mountain in all of England?”
Darcy grimaced; he knew my mind perhaps as well as I did. “I am acquainted with the fact, Elizabeth. It is a wild place, I am told. Treacherous, even.”
“All the better! I mean to ascend it, and from the Wastwater side, the most dramatic of all approaches according to my guidebook. Surely you are not daunted by a little mud and wind?”
Georgiana laughed. “See, Fitzwilliam. You have met your match!”
Darcy’s hand paused over the board. “You cannot be serious. I fear there is some conspiracy afoot. Surely, Georgiana, you cannot be encouraging Elizabeth? No! It would be highly improper for a lady—any lady—to undertake such an expedition.”
“Improper? Is it improper for a lady to desire to see the world with her own eyes, to feel the wind at her back and the earth beneath her feet?” I felt my ire rise, but calmed myself. Truly, Fitzwilliam was only concerned for my reputation.
“There are certain standards, Elizabeth. I do not set them, but we cannot ignore them. The world would frown on such an endeavour.”
He threw the dice, but, distracted by our discourse, made a foolish move. Ha! With some luck, I could retrieve my position. The dice fell as I wished. Darcy frowned, looking from the board to me. Had he suspected I had distracted him intentionally?
“And yet if no one ever questioned what the world frowns upon, nothing would ever change,” I continued. “I should dearly love to be the first woman to climb Scawfell Pike. What a thing to remember when I am old and grey, standing where only men have stood before!”
‘And I with you, Lizzy!’ whispered Mary. ‘And me too,’ said Kitty and Lydia in unison, sitting beside me.
Darcy was silent, staring at the dice in his hand. The fire crackled and Mama muttered something about “outrageous girl” and “the cold,” but I ignored her. “You are not afraid,” he said finally, “that such an attempt would bring you into ridicule?”
“Yet, has Dorothy Wordsworth suffered for her adventures? She roams where she will. Perhaps she has already made the ascent.”
He looked at me, really looked. I felt myself colouring under his gaze.
Georgiana, sensing the change in mood, put down her needle and turned to her brother.
“Fitzwilliam, if Lizzy wishes to climb Scawfell, could you not at least accompany her? Surely with your protection—and a guide—she would be safe?”
Darcy smiled despite himself. “It is not your safety I doubt, Elizabeth. Nor your spirit. But I fear for your reputation. There are precious few women who would dare such a thing.”
“Then let me be the first,” I said, with a forthrightness I had not expected, even from myself. “Let me lead the way for those who will come after. We may take a guide; then the world cannot say I was unchaperoned.”
Darcy smirked. “You would not be satisfied with a gentle walk around Buttermere?”