Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (10 page)

Elizabeth
dusted off her hands. "Well, I can see you do not hate it. Should I bring
more the next time I come?"

"Yes,
please," the girl whispered.

Mrs.
Tanner expressed hesitant gratitude for the food Elizabeth had brought.
"Especially for the children," she said.

"You
must eat, too." Elizabeth suspected she might be going hungry in favour of
her children. "Is there anything in particular you might find
helpful?"

"Thank
you kindly, Mrs. Darcy, but we get by." Her eyes slid away.

Elizabeth
remembered Mrs. Reynolds's words about Mr. Tanner selling their possessions for
drink. If that were the case, there would be little point in bringing blankets
to replace the tattered ones on the bed. Food might be the only assistance she
could offer.

Elizabeth
wondered whether Darcy would question her tenant visits; but, when he said
nothing, she followed his lead and did not mention her activities. She
developed a routine of visitation every second day, becoming a familiar sight
among the small farms of Pemberley. She varied the households she visited, but
always ended with the Tanners. By the third time she called at the house, the
children came running to her for their sweets, and no longer seemed so
desperate to eat them immediately.

Mrs.
Tanner rarely said anything beyond thanking Elizabeth for her generosity, but her
eyes showed deep gratitude as well as the ever-present fear.

Elizabeth
understood it better after one occasion when she discovered Mrs.

Tanner
showing bruises across her face and arms. It infuriated Elizabeth, but there
was nothing to be done for it. She never saw Mr. Tanner; it was as if he did
not exist.

Mrs.
Reynolds referred to the visits as Mrs. Darcy's charitable activities, but
Elizabeth could not think of it as charity. The truth of the matter was that
she was happier when visiting the tenants than at any other time. She gave them
much needed food and sundries, but they gave her something even more
valuable--respect and admiration. As she grew to know the children better, the
casual affection they gave her was like water in the desert.

Some
of her growing confidence showed to her new family as well.

Although
she continued to keep her innermost thoughts her own, she made a greater effort
to show interest in Georgiana's activities. It became easier with the passage
of days and weeks for her to act almost naturally with Mr.

Darcy.
She became bolder in the stable yard as well, holding her own reins as she made
slow circuits on Pandora.

Finally
the day came when she pronounced herself ready to venture beyond the stable
yard. Darcy immediately asked for one of his horses to be saddled--not
Hurricane, Elizabeth noted, but one she had not seen before, a handsome
Arabian, large, but placid in appearance.

"Where
would you like to go?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth
considered where the ground was most even. "Perhaps around the lake."
It was further than she would rather go this first time, but she hoped Darcy
would be pleased by her initiative.

Although
they set out at a sedate walk, Elizabeth's hands clutched the reins. From time
to time she glanced at Darcy. He looked perfectly at ease in the saddle as
always, and seemed to spend most of his time watching her rather than the path
they were taking. Elizabeth eyed the ground with some anxiety, relaxing only a
little when they reached the soft grasses of the bank.

They
were near the stone bridge on the far side of the lake when Darcy said,
"One of my favourite spots is nearby. If you like, I can show it to you,
but we would have to leave the horses here."

Elizabeth
hesitated, unsure she wished to prolong the ride. But it seemed rude to refuse,
so she said she would be happy to see it.

Darcy
dismounted with graceful ease and tied his horse's reins to a sapling. He came
alongside Pandora just as Elizabeth was contemplating the unpleasant prospect
of reaching the ground without the assistance of the mounting block. Without
asking her permission, he placed his hands on her waist.

A
brief panic overtook her. What if she lost her balance without the stability of
the mounting block? She caught at Darcy's shoulders as he lifted her down. It
was not until her feet rested safely on the ground for some moments that she
could breathe easily enough to release her grip. Darcy looked down at her with
an odd expression, but he let his hands slip off her waist without a word. She
could still feel the warmth of his touch.

"Come,"
he said. "It is this way, through the trees."

She
followed him to a grassy bank where the brook tumbled merrily over a series of
small cascades before losing itself in the depths of the pond. She had seen the
same spot from the other side of the lake countless times, but its charm was
not apparent from a distance. She bent down and let the cold water run over her
fingers, then turned to Darcy with a smile. "It is very soothing,"
she said. "I wonder where the stream begins."

He
pointed to the north. "It has its source in the Peaks yonder. The

Lambton
road follows the valley it has carved over the years."

"Such
a small stream to have created such a passage! Your knowledge of the landscape
never fails to surprise me."

"It
is my home." He seated himself on the grass above her and gestured for her
to join him.

She
complied, though it made her heart beat faster. It had not escaped her notice
that this was the first time since their quarrel they had been alone together
in a place where no servants or grooms could be expected to interrupt them. His
recent amiability, she knew, must have a goal. The matter of an heir to
Pemberley must be in his mind. Certainly he could demand his rights in that
regard at any point, but she was beginning to understand that was not in his
character. It was another of his admirable qualities she had discovered in the
weeks since their disagreement. Still, the uncertainty of when he might
approach her was something she thought of often, and she wondered if he
intended to test the waters with her today. If so, she would meet him with
every civility. She had decided that long ago.

She
was taken quite by surprise when he said, "Tell me about your eldest
sister."

Elizabeth
looked away, remembering the last time Jane's name had arisen between them. She
did not want a repeat of their quarrel. "Jane? She is always patient,
always kind. She thinks the best of everyone, no matter how telling the
evidence against them."

"You
are close to her?"

"I
was." She remembered the night before her wedding when she had almost told
Jane the truth. No, since her engagement, she could not claim to be close to
Jane.

"But
no longer? Why not?"

She
hesitated, not wanting to mention his prohibition on writing to her family.
Apart from the matter of the Gardiners' visit, he had never said anything
further about her correspondence, and she had not wanted to risk asking.
"She is in Hertfordshire and I am here. Also, Jane has been unhappy of
late, and not prone to confidences."

Darcy
stood and moved restlessly to the edge of the lake. Picking up a long stick, he
swished it through the water. "Why is she unhappy?" His tone was
guarded.

"Must
we discuss this?" she asked impulsively. "I would rather enjoy the
day." Not that she was likely to be at ease with another ride ahead of
her.

"Elizabeth,
I observed your sister closely on the evening of the ball at Netherfield. Her
look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging, but I perceived no symptoms
of peculiar regard for Bingley. She seemed to receive his attentions with
pleasure, but with no evidence of attachment." He spoke as if his
impressions were well-accepted facts.

"There
was an attachment. Jane's feelings, though fervent, are little displayed."
She tried to speak as calmly as possible, but too many lonely days spent
worrying over Jane's unhappiness made it difficult.

He
walked up and down the bank in silence, then said, "I must have been in
error, then. Your knowledge of your sister is indubitably the superior."

The
acknowledgment must have come at some cost to such a proud man, but Elizabeth
could not help thinking it was too late to help Jane. She remembered Jane's
sadness after Bingley's departure, and her own anger.

"Jane
is not mercenary."

Darcy's
lips tightened. "I may have been mistaken, but it was done for the best. I
did not want Bingley to suffer a marriage where his regard was not
returned."

Silence
spread like ripples on the lake. Elizabeth averted her eyes. He had not wanted
that fate for Bingley, and now he faced it himself. She wished there were
something she could say to take away his pained look, but she could not lay
claim to a love she did not feel, no matter how much her respect for him had
grown. She doubted he would believe her even if she tried. How he must despise
her for the betrayal of his hopes. At the moment, she despised herself almost
as much.

"Perhaps
we should return now," Darcy said brusquely. He offered Elizabeth his hand
to help her to her feet, but there was no warmth in his expression. The curl of
his lip suggested he was offering his assistance only because he must, and not
out of any desire to do so.

Elizabeth
followed him back to the horses without a word. They had been doing so well,
and now this. Surely this could not be the end of their civility! She sought
desperately for some response which might alleviate the tension, but watching
the set of his shoulders as he strode ahead of her, she decided it would be
wiser to say nothing now.

When
she reached Pandora's side she realized that she still lacked the mounting
block. She examined the mare's chestnut flanks as if she might find another
answer there until she heard Darcy's footsteps behind her.

"I
fear I will need your assistance to reach the saddle," she said
apologetically.

His
only response was to place his hands on her waist and lift her to the saddle
once more. It was fortunate Pandora was so small.

Ignoring
her thanks, he mounted his horse and started off down the path. Pandora
followed her stablemate's lead, which was fortunate, since Elizabeth felt
unequal to putting her lessons in horsemanship to the test.

She
could find no relief for her sense of loss.

He
made no effort to converse as they continued their trek, and Elizabeth was
grateful to see the stables coming into view. She did not realize until she
dismounted at the block that in her distress over their discussion, had not
given a second thought to her fear of riding. Excitedly she turned to Darcy, wanting
to share this success with him, but his back was to her.

Her
courage failed her as she heard him brusquely ask the stable boy to saddle
Hurricane.

She
could not face him. Instead, she collected Pandora's reins and led her towards
the stable. One of the stable hands offered to take her, but Elizabeth shook
her head. At Pandora's stall, Elizabeth removed her bridle and found a wizened
apple. The horse took the treat from her happily, then whickered in her ear.

She
saw Hurricane being led past on his way to Darcy. With a shiver of something
that might have been pain, Elizabeth buried her face in Pandora's mane, letting
the horse's warmth comfort her.

It
was nearly suppertime, and Elizabeth had yet to see her husband since their
ride in the morning. She had watched without success for his return, although
she did not know what she would say when she saw him again. She was not yet
equal to seeking him out; but, when one of the maids came in to off er her
refreshment, Elizabeth asked whether Mr. Darcy had arrived back from his ride.

"Madam,
begging your pardon, the master's horse came back without him."

"Without
him?" cried Elizabeth. "Then where is he?"

The
maid shrugged helplessly. "That is all I know, please, madam."

Elizabeth
frowned. "Would you tell Mrs. Reynolds I would like to speak with
her?" The maid curtseyed and left.

Elizabeth's
eyes drifted to the window. What could have happened? She had never trusted
that stallion. What if Darcy had been thrown and was injured, or worse than injured?
She stood and went to the window.

She
was still gazing out when Mrs. Reynolds arrived. "You wished to see me,
madam?"

"Yes,
Mrs. Reynolds. I am told Mr. Darcy's horse returned without him," said
Elizabeth, her voice tight. "Do you know anything of this?"

"Only
that the horse returned some two hours past, and there is no sign of injury on
him."

"Two
hours past! " Elizabeth cried. "Why was I not informed?"

"We
thought it best not to worry you, madam. Mr. Darcy is an excellent horseman,
and I do not doubt he dismounted for some reason and the horse ran off ."

Elizabeth
took a deep breath. "Even the finest of horsemen can take a fall. We must
arrange a search for him. He could be injured."

"Mr.
Dunstan sent out all the available men as soon as he heard, but it is only a
precaution, madam. I am certain myself Mr. Darcy will walk in at any moment
demanding his dinner."

Despite
the housekeeper's reassuring words, Elizabeth was certain Mrs.

Reynolds
was worried as well. She herself knew an anxiety verging on panic.

She
had never mentioned to Darcy that the man she saw fall from horseback all those
years ago had not survived the incident. She could still remember the whole
episode as if it were yesterday--the arc his body made flying through the air,
the horrible cracking sound when he struck the ground, and the blood gushing
from a wound in his skull, then slowing to a standstill a few minutes later as
the life left his body. She had been terrified and ran home in a panic. Unable
to stop crying, she had been sent to bed where Hill brought her a posset;
Elizabeth had never been able to abide the taste of one since.