Chapter 5 #2
She walked towards him, and he detected her lavender scent.
Her eyes were warm and lively. “Sir, I am an avid reader and have no intention of stealing anything. Mrs. Reynolds found these in the manor house and loaned them to me as she knows of my love of reading. The book covers are charred, but after I clean them, they will be almost as good as new.”
“Pemberley once housed one of the finest private libraries in England, but now. . .now it is in ruins.” Darcy’s voice faded at the end.
“Do you remember how many books were in your collection?”
“The library was started by one of my ancestors with only a few tomes in the master’s closet. Through the generations, a library was built and enlarged until my family amassed thousands of volumes. . .but they are gone now.”
“I should have liked to see what the library once looked like. Perhaps more books can be salvaged.”
Darcy stared at her. The kindness in her voice was loud and clear. “Miss Bennet.”
“Yes, sir?”
To thank her for her compassion was his heartfelt desire, but he was still so full of rage in regard to the condition of Pemberley, he could not find the words. “I have said enough.” He rose and slowly limped back to the cottage.
As he walked, he spent time in contemplation of the conversation: he must make sense of what had just happened.
Who was this young woman and what was she doing here?
Perhaps his fatigue caused him to speak so openly about his mother’s garden.
He had never before been so candid with anyone.
Miss Bennet should be going to balls and dancing with the sons of gentlemen.
She may not be of his sphere, but she should not be working as a maid.
Her father should be ashamed of himself.
* * *
As Mr. Darcy walked away, Elizabeth admired his broad shoulders.
His voice was deep, but also soft and tender, and she had never seen such fine grey-blue eyes.
Despite all he had suffered, he had a certain dignity in his mien.
She admonished herself to stop thinking about her employer. She was naught but a maid in his home.
* * *
Sitting near the window, Darcy was reading when Miss Bennet entered the drawing room holding a dust cloth. She stopped to peek at what was in his hands, and he was curious. “Are you familiar with this title?”
“Yes, sir, my father and I read it together several times; it was the source of many debates.”
“You discussed a book about modern farm practices in England?” If what she was saying was true, she was a very well-educated young woman.
“I believe I mentioned my father was a scholar. Of all of his daughters, I was the one most eager to learn. I read the newssheets daily and until recently, prided myself in being up to date on current events. Unfortunately for my family, he only read that book; he was too apathetic to initiate its suggestions at Longbourn.”
“What other subjects are you interested in reading?”
“I enjoy history, philosophy, biographies, poetry, and novels.”
“The books in our library were collected over many generations, but almost all were destroyed by the fire. The poetry section alone had over five hundred volumes. Who is your favourite poet?” He did not wish their conversation to end.
Richard was correct: he was lonely and needed a friend to talk to, even if she was a servant in his home.
Perhaps she also would like someone to talk to?
“Is that not akin to asking a parent to name their favourite child?” Darcy nodded. “I have often read William Blake and Coleridge. I enjoy how Wordsworth’s love of nature is reflected in his works. Since my father’s death, I have often turned to Thomas Gray’s Elegy for solace.”
“I find it interesting that we have very similar taste in reading material. I might have given the same answers if asked the same question.”
“Then it is a good thing I did not have to ask,” Miss Bennet smiled as she quit the room.
Darcy could not help but notice the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. Who was this well-read, intelligent young woman and why was she working in his house?
* * *
The following day
Once again, Miss Bennet commented on what he was reading.
He should be affronted—why was he not? Addressing him directly without being spoken to was not appropriate behaviour for a maid, yet he welcomed her conversation.
Turning the book over to glance at its cover, he asked her how she felt about the book, and they began to further discuss and debate several books they both liked.
“These are some of the books Mrs. Reynolds salvaged from the house for me.”
“I am familiar with several of them. My father would re-read many of the books you are holding and referred to them as his most precious possessions. He often said that you cannot read great works often enough.”
She had a quick mind, and he enjoyed having a person to talk to about the books he enjoyed.
“Books have always been a significant part of my life. My mother read and sang to me every day as a small child. My father insisted our tenants have basic reading and mathematics skills. He believed it would benefit everyone on the estate, and his theory was proven correct.”
“Sir, may I ask you something?”
“It depends on the question.”
“I just wonder why you remain indoors when the weather is so lovely. Perhaps walking outside and appreciating nature would lift your spirits.”
“Yes, well, I shall think about it.”
She was not behaving as a servant should. It was obvious she had not been trained for her situation. She still conducted herself as a gentleman’s daughter would. He scratched his head and went back to his book.
* * *
Several days later
Someone was playing and singing in the drawing room, and the pleasant sounds urged Darcy to become active, so he slowly made his way down the stairs. When he entered the room, Miss Bennet jumped to her feet and curtsied.
“I apologize sir, I thought you were away from home. Mrs. Reynolds gave me permission to play when you were not here.”
“You have no need to apologise.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am leaving now; I thought I might enjoy the sunshine.” She should not think he was going outside simply because she made the suggestion. “I have grown tired of reading in my sitting room.”
He stopped. Her lavender scent once again captivated him, and when he observed her from the left side, she was quite pretty.
It was a pity that he could never allow himself to be attracted to her very fine eyes and her light and pleasing figure.
She was a gentleman’s daughter born with a birthmark on her face, and if that was not bad enough, she had been forced into service. Hers was a sad story indeed.
Already aware of Miss Bennet’s intelligence, Darcy had also come to admire her musical skills.
Even today, the sounds of the pianoforte and her voice were like a siren’s song, and every bone in his body was on alert.
Even though not classically trained like his sister, she played and sang with emotion.
She had the voice of an angel—but he would never let her know he had been listening to her.
How it would lift his spirits to hear her play the pianoforte every day. He sighed.
As Darcy lay in bed that night, his mind was engaged in a review of his time with Elizabeth Bennet. How could he stop thinking about the way her eyes twinkled with mirth when she laughed?
* * *
Elizabeth was staggering under the weight of a large stack of wood when Mr. Darcy appeared and offered to help her.
“Oh no! I thank you sir, but you cannot carry such a load while using your cane.”
“I shall hold what I can using my left arm. I cannot abide a gentleman’s daughter struggling under the weight of such a load.”
“Very well, I see no use in arguing with you.”
“Where are the footmen? Is this not their responsibility?”
“Mrs. Reynolds mentioned we needed more wood, and they were busy elsewhere, so I volunteered. I was eager for the excuse to be outside.” They both smiled as they walked towards the cottage.
He had referred to her as a gentleman’s daughter, not as a maid!
Was Mr. Darcy thinking of her more as an equal rather than a servant? She should stop thinking those things!
“What did you do before you came to work at the cottage?”
“My first position began shortly after I arrived in Derbyshire a few months ago. I was hired as a temporary companion for Mrs. Murray while her aide was away visiting relatives. Do you know who she is?”
“Indeed, I do. Her late husband had the bookshop in Lambton, and she was often there to help him. I heard she had a terrible accident earlier this year.”
“Yes, and recovering in bed for so long left her in a weakened state. I helped her learn how to strengthen her muscles, and she can now walk on her own and feed herself.”
“I doubt anything could help me.”
“Mr. Darcy, when I worked for Mrs. Murray, I used the specific exercises Mr. Barton suggested, and they worked quite well. Your recovery should be easier than hers because only your right leg was injured. That, and you are much younger.”
“I realize that is not why you were hired, but would you consider helping me as you did Mrs. Murray? I barely have the strength to walk to the garden and back, even with a cane to help me.”
“Has your leg injury healed?”
“Barton removed the last of the bandages weeks ago.”
“Then yes, I would be eager to try.”
* * *
The next morning
Mr. Darcy asked if she would walk with him, and she did not hesitate to agree. It was the first day on his road to recovery, and she was pleased to help him.