Chapter 24 Crossroads #2
Edward Gardiner added, “There is no need for you to concern yourself with this matter. If your groom would ride into Cromford with my man, you may stay with us and enjoy that spot of fishing you mentioned.”
Elizabeth watched as the handsome gentleman looked to his sister.
“Georgiana, what say you, my dear? Would you rather remain here and walk with Miss Bennet to see the mushrooms, or would you prefer to rest at the inn?”
When the young girl spoke, her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Fitzwilliam, I could enjoy a walk. I have been confined to the carriage all morning.” She turned to Elizabeth. “But only if Miss Bennet is agreeable.”
Elizabeth regarded the young girl warmly. “I should like it very much. I had only just begun a walk when your carriage arrived. We may continue it now.”
The two young women left the others to arrange for the repairs and walked along the brook together.
As they walked, Elizabeth sought to break the silence by asking, “What is the name of that mushroom, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana glanced at her with shy pleasure. “It is called a Shaggy Ink Cap, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth bent to admire it. “It is quite lovely, with its tall white cap and delicate black edging.”
“It is edible when young,” Georgiana said. “As it grows older, it blackens and seems almost to melt into ink.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Well then, should I ever lose my way in these woods, I shall not perish of hunger, for I shall dine upon Shaggy Ink Caps.”
Georgiana's eyes brightened, though she said nothing.
Elizabeth found the girl's quiet manner endearing.
“Miss Darcy, shall we dispense with the formality? I should like you to call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy, as my family does. It seems rather silly to stand upon ceremony in this quiet wilderness.”
Georgiana's expression brightened. “I should like that very much. Will you call me Georgiana?”
“Gladly. Come, let me show you the red mushroom I found earlier. There were several other sorts growing in that same wood.”
Georgiana pointed toward a cluster of mushrooms.
“Those are puffballs.” The girl crouched beside the little cluster of white mushrooms. “They are quite suitable for eating while they are still white within. Once they begin to turn yellow, they are too old and no longer fit to eat.”
“Ah, then I have discovered another means of surviving should I ever lose my way.”
As they continued along the brook, Elizabeth asked, “Do you live in this part of Derbyshire, Georgiana? You seem quite familiar with these woods.”
“My home lies about sixteen miles further north. Pemberley is the name of my brother’s estate, and it is about two miles northeast of Bakewell. My uncle's country seat lies but three miles from here. When we are visiting, my brother and I often ride this way in the early mornings. “
Georgiana shook her skirts and then asked quietly, “And you, Lizzy? Where is your home?”
The two young women continued along the brook for another half hour, conversing with growing ease. At last, realizing they had wandered beyond sight of their families, they turned back.
When the two young women returned, they found Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner standing by the brook with their fishing rods, while the wheelwright had arrived and was already replacing the broken wheel.
Mrs. Gardiner sat beneath a nearby oak upon a rug she had spread some distance away from the two silent fishermen.
Elizabeth and Georgiana joined her. Mrs. Gardiner poured each of them a glass of water from a stoneware jug before asking, “How far did you ladies walk, Lizzy?”
“About a mile, Aunt. The brook follows the road for some distance. We reached a bend where the path turned away from the water and continued toward Cromford. We thought it prudent to return before we were discovered walking unchaperoned.”
“Very wise.” She turned to the younger girl. “Miss Darcy, are you traveling first to your uncle's home, or do you continue directly to Pemberley?”
“We shall continue on to Pemberley. Fitzwilliam and I are both longing to sleep in our own beds, far from the bustle of coaching inns. And I confess I have been dreaming of the bread pudding our cook prepares.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Aunt Maddie, you must ask your sister to make us a bread pudding, for now I shall not rest until I have indulged myself.”
Georgiana giggled. “I ought not to speak of food while we are stranded in the countryside with no hope of obtaining any.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “That is not entirely true, Miss Darcy. Your brother has sent to the local tavern for stew, freshly baked bread, cheese, and wine. He assured us the food is of excellent quality.”
“My brother must have sent to the Greyhound Inn. I wonder he did not have us dine there instead.”
“I can answer that. He says the inn is too rough to receive ladies comfortably, and since the weather is pleasant, we shall dine here. He even offered the use of your carriage so we might eat in comfort.”
Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana. “Your brother is most hospitable and thinks of every comfort.”
“He does, Lizzy. Fitzwilliam is a very thoughtful brother.”
The three ladies turned their attention to the gentlemen. Once again, Elizabeth found herself thinking she had never seen such a handsome man as Mr. Darcy.
* * *
In the end, the wheelwright advised Mr. Darcy to take the ladies on to their destination in his carriage, for the repair would require more time than he had first expected.
The two families took their dinner together in the open air.
Elizabeth had never enjoyed a stew so much as the one she ate beside the carriage in Mr. Darcy's company.
Her aunt and Georgiana sat comfortably within the Darcys' elegant carriage, while she preferred to remain outside with the two gentlemen, listening as they discussed the war and the heavy taxes required to finance it.
When they resumed their journey with the Darcys, Fitzwilliam rode beside the carriage while Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner joined Georgiana inside.
The young girl was charmed by Elizabeth and watched her with quiet interest. At length she asked, “Lizzy, I see you have a large book in your bag. Which author do you favor? Is that Shakespeare?”
Elizabeth cast her aunt a wry look before answering somewhat sheepishly. “I am studying the antiquarian William Stukeley. Have you heard of him?”
Georgiana looked puzzled. “An antiquarian? I have never heard that term. Pray, what is your area of study? The sciences?”
“No. I am studying Arbor Low, among other places and subjects. Have you ever visited it?”
“It is part of my brother’s estate, Lizzy. It is but four miles from my home. It lies about two miles north of Lambton, a village where we often shop when we are not inclined to travel farther to Bakewell or Kympton. We often ride to the monument in the early mornings.”
“That is one of the places I most wish to visit and learn about.”
“Learn about? Why, Lizzy, I fear you will be disappointed, for the people who built the henge left no written record. Nothing is known of them. Some believe it to have been a Druid temple, while others say it is far older, perhaps even two thousand years older than the Druids themselves.”
“My interest in the monument is somewhat different. I am more interested in the local traditions and folklore of the Derbyshire people who have lived upon these lands during the past two or three hundred years. I wish to learn about the more recent history. The legends, the myths, the fairy stories, and the like.”
The young girl's blue eyes widened in astonishment as she studied Elizabeth's face.
“You are in earnest, are you not?”
“I am.”
Elizabeth withdrew the book from her bag and handed it to the girl.
“Why, it is quite heavy, Lizzy.”
Georgiana turned the pages with interest.
“This illustration is remarkably detailed. Here is Gib Hill, the barrow. Here is the stone circle. And here is the ditch.”
Elizabeth leaned a little closer.
“Did your family ever preserve any legends or folklore connected with this place?”
Georgiana raised her eyes thoughtfully.
“Not that I know of, though perhaps my brother may. I am afraid we are not students of antiquities, Lizzy.” She smiled apologetically. “My brother's interests incline more toward Shakespeare, Homer, Cicero, and the like.”
“My father's interests did too. During the last months of his life, however, we began reading a dissertation by Mr. Stukeley, and it awakened my curiosity. Now you find me deeply engaged in the study of the Derbyshire stone circles, but especially Arbor Low. While I am visiting the area, I hope to collect the local folklore and legends and record them in my notebook.”
Georgiana made a rueful face.
“Forgive me, Lizzy. I did not mean to sound dismissive. You must love your studies as much as I love learning a new piece of music.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Yes, my dear. There is no accounting for tastes.”