Chapter 7
SEVEN
The spring air had warmed in the bright sunshine. Mrs Collins and Colonel Fitzwilliam strolled back to the parsonage, enjoying the weather.
“That was a lovely walk, but it got us no nearer to finding our friends,” mused Mrs Collins, her hand comfortably tucked in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm.
“There are no natural dangers here; no cliffs to tumble down. No sea to drown in, no ravines to fall into, no highwaymen or smugglers. While it is hard to imagine that either Mr Darcy or my friend Eliza are in any danger, I begin to worry a little. I know the local people here very well and cannot think of a one that would do any harm to anyone. Even if there were, Eliza could outrun them.”
At her companion’s look of surprise, Mrs Collins chuckled.
“Yes, I would wager that she can outrun even a seasoned soldier like yourself. Ladies are not supposed to be athletic, but she is, much to her mother’s vexation.
When we were children, no one could best her in a footrace, and if need be, she can scramble up a tree with the best of them. ”
The colonel laughed. “Why does that not surprise me? Miss Bennet is singular indeed. The worst threat I could come up with would be a runaway boar or bull from a local farm, but neither of them can climb trees.”
He was silent for a moment, then spoke tentatively.
“I do not think it a coincidence that they are both gone. I am persuaded that they are somewhere together. I know Darcy to be honourable to the bone, and though I have not known her long, I believe Miss Bennet is as well. They are safe. The only real danger to either of them is what one might say to the other. Darcy is always putting his foot in it, as you are aware.”
“And Eliza has a very sharp tongue when she loses her temper.” Mrs Collins raised her free hand in a questioning gesture. “So where does that leave us? You cannot move forward until Mr Darcy returns, and he has been gone for almost an hour.”
“I am loath to return to Rosings, yet I cannot go on to London without Darcy.”
They had entered the garden, when Mrs Collins came to attention.
With a slight gasp, she stopped abruptly and raised one finger in the air. “Wait,” she said, sotto voce. “Do you hear something?”
They both stood motionless. A slight breeze moved the flowers in the garden, there was some distant birdsong, and…
“Someone is speaking,” whispered the colonel, his head at an angle, listening intently.
“You hear them too,” breathed Mrs Collins. “At last! Now we have only to follow the sound.”
With Mrs Collins at his side, Colonel Fitzwilliam tugged the peg out of the lock, which swung open immediately. A stench rolled out of the shed like a physical force.
“Oh! What is that? What is that… that odour!”
Darcy and Miss Bennet stumbled out, coughing and choking.
“What is this? What has happened? How and why are you in this filthy shed of all places?” cried Mrs Collins. She put her arm around Miss Bennet, who looked as if she might swoon.
With a gasp, Miss Bennet collapsed on the lawn but managed to speak. “It is a long and ridiculous story, Charlotte, and I need to sit down before I can tell it.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam had taken their measure, the torn and stained clothing, their dirty faces, the cobwebs draped on their heads, Darcy’s sodden and smelly boots, and began to guffaw. Within seconds, he was bent over, his hands on his knees, roaring with laughter.
Darcy stood half bent over, one hand on his chest, taking great gulps of fresh air. “Fitzwilliam, Mrs Collins, thank you, again and again, for releasing us from that…”
“Pit of despair?” interjected the colonel, still laughing. “How on earth were you two locked in?”
“Mr Collins locked the door from the outside, unaware that we were inside,” said Miss Elizabeth.
“I will explain the rest while we continue our journey to London,” Darcy promised his cousin.
“I am not riding in a carriage with you and those putrid, smelly boots, Darcy!” declared Colonel Fitzwilliam. “You will either have to remove them and throw them away, or ride the entire way.”
In the end, Darcy threw his boots into the area named for them, the boot, and rode inside the carriage all the way to town in his stocking feet and soiled clothing.
His heartfelt delight was such that he did not mind relating the entire episode; embarrassing as it might be considered, he cared not.
Colonel Fitzwilliam teased him until it became apparent that he could not provoke his cousin, who stared dreamily out the window, smiling and humming off-key.
Two weeks later, Elizabeth was welcomed back to Gracechurch Street with open arms. Maria Lucas was met by her father and taken home immediately, but Elizabeth was happily relieved to spend a week with her beloved aunt and uncle Gardiner before returning to Longbourn.
She sank into a settee in the family’s comfortable private parlour. It had been a long day of goodbyes and travel. She would miss Charlotte dearly, but not her knowing looks and I-told-you-so smirks. She regarded her sister.
Jane was radiant with happiness. Mr Darcy had been as good as his word, and Mr Bingley had, upon discovering that his feelings were returned, become a frequent visitor and constant suitor.
Aunt Gardiner carried her workbasket over and settled in next to Elizabeth. “Quite a change, is it not? My husband and I are glad for Jane, but we will continue to watch Mr Bingley carefully to assure ourselves that he will not disappear again.”
“I suppose you are correct to do so,” Elizabeth agreed. “I hope he will learn from this, and never be swayed by the opinions of others, at least in matters of the heart.” Her mind returned, as it so often did in recent days, to Mr Darcy, and she wondered when she would next see him.
Only minutes later, the housekeeper appeared at the threshold of the room. “Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, ma’am.”
And then there he was, walking into the room behind Mr Bingley, his gaze fixed on her, a barely visible smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
The ladies rose and curtseyed, the gentlemen bowed, and Elizabeth performed the introductions for Mr Darcy.
Mr Bingley quickly took the seat next to Jane, and refreshments were called for.
Elizabeth was pleased with Mr Darcy’s attention to her aunt but frustrated with her inability to speak with him in any personal capacity.
Mr Bingley’s obvious wish to spend time speaking privately with Jane made him call for a walk, and she was pleased when they were all shooed out the door by Mrs Gardiner.
When the acknowledged couple almost immediately lagged behind, Mr Darcy offered his arm and Elizabeth took it, grinning up at him.
“You have had new boots made, I see. Their shine is almost blinding. Does your valet use Champagne to polish them?”
Darcy narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you truly been waiting two weeks to ask me about my boots?”
“No, but it seemed like a good place to start. How has your return to town been? How is Miss Darcy?”
“She is improving, most especially since my own mood has improved. We spend more time together now. She is very happy with her new companion. I told her that I am calling on a lady, and she hopes to meet you soon.”
“And I hope to meet her.”
“Now I have a question for you. How did Mrs Collins explain the condition of her husband’s garden shed?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Charlotte did not want to tell Mr Collins a lie, so she created a different circumstance. She loosened the latch on the gate to the pigsty, the pigs got out and found their way to the shed. Their pigs had got loose in the garden several times before, so Mr Collins never thought to question the series of events.”
“Pigs, madam?” Darcy’s voice was low and sombre.
Elizabeth looked up at him. His face was set in disdainful lines, but one corner of his mouth was turned up, and there was a glint of humour in his eyes.
She grinned at him. “Do not think of it as a comparison, sir, but as an act of expediency.”
Darcy laughed. “And the foul brew in the bucket? I cannot even imagine what that was to be used for.”
“Mr Collins was intent on creating a special fertilising mixture for his potatoes. He is quite the connoisseur of potatoes. He has since given up that experiment. Now, sir, let us put that behind us and move to other subjects. You have seen my home; would you humour me by describing yours?”
He smiled and pulled her a little closer. “I will also be humouring myself. I am happy to describe Pemberley to you. I hope you will see it for yourself one day soon.”
The former adversaries walked on, their steps in rhythm, their pace slowing, their plans taking shape, their hearts entwining.
Two people as stubborn and opinionated as they were would not make their way on a gentle path lined with rose petals and accompanied by the songs of bluebirds.
There would be disagreements and obstacles to overcome.
Their path would be steeper, rockier, requiring them to lean on each other, to compromise and communicate, to pull each other through trials and tribulation, and to trust in their love.
Which in the end, would make every moment more precious, their lives together more cherished.