Page 19 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

SO UNEXPECTED A MEETING

A fter the tumultuous events of the day, Darcy could not sleep, and found himself drawn to the kitchens to find pastries Mrs Hodge had saved for him.

He forgot to take a lamp with him, but he knew these halls in the dark, and could find his way anywhere in the house he had lived in his entire life.

He had eaten very little supper, distracted as he was by Elizabeth being in his home, not to mention the arrival of his family and their worried expressions.

When word came about Wickham, he felt nauseous.

No matter what had happened between them, it was sobering to realise he was gone, lost to the open sea.

But now the needs of his body would not be denied. There was no way he could sleep while his stomach sounded like a roaring cat.

He often came to the kitchens, even now, much to the consternation of Mrs Reynolds. She did not dislike it when he was a boy, and would allow him all the sweets he desired. Especially when he had fallen off a tree limb, or had a scuffle with the steward’s son.

“Here you go, my lamb,” she would say as she put scones and a warm cup of milk in front of him.

It was comforting and familiar, and every time Darcy slipped into the kitchens before bed, he was reminded how much his household at Pemberley were his lifeblood, his family.

As he grew older, Mrs Reynolds would chide him for coming below stairs for food, telling him he was the master now, and all food and drink could be brought to his rooms at a moment’s notice, instead of wandering to the kitchen.

But there was something comforting about being here.

It brought him round to the time his family was whole, those few years when he, his parents and his brother were all together at Pemberley.

When Georgiana was born, and his mother had died, he sought solace once again in the familiar warmth of the kitchens.

A small light was flickering near the larder; he rounded the corner, only to see a woman’s face lit by candlelight.

She had not seen him yet, and the sight of her took his breath away.

He stood for a moment, drinking in a glowing, beatific view of Elizabeth, wearing the gown she had worn in their meeting in the library, her hair in a braid, yet slightly mussed. In her hand was a pastry.

“Did you save one for me?” His voice was not loud, but it was unexpected and caused Elizabeth to gasp and throw her hands into the air from shock. Both candle and pastry flew upwards before tumbling to the floor. It suddenly became darker as the candle was snuffed out.

“I apologise.” His voice cut through the dark.

“As you should—it was a most excellent pastry and I fear we might have lost it forever.” He could hear, if not see, her grin.

There was a shaft of moonlight coming through the windows, and a flicker of candlelight from under Mrs Reynolds’s door nearby.

He could see a faint outline of Elizabeth as she stooped to the floor, and he bent down next to her.

“I have found pieces of it, but not the whole,” she said.

“Are you speaking of the tart, or the candle?”

She giggled. It was a sound like music to his ears, especially on a night like this when his heart and mind were warring within him.

“I am not interested in eating the candle.” He could hear her smile through the words, though her face was in shadows. And he could imagine that one perfectly arched eyebrow as she said it.

“I am glad to hear it.” He reached over to where he saw the candle, to grab it, and felt a hand on his.

“Oh!” She pulled her hand back so quickly at the touch. “I apologise, sir, I did not see.”

His heart was in his throat at the feel of her warm, ungloved hand atop his.

He cleared his throat to get his voice to work.

“No harm done, though if I can find the candle, I may be able to light it for us. Please allow me to find you a new tart. Mrs Hodge keeps a superb kitchen, and while it may be said you could eat off Pemberley’s floors, I would not suggest it. ”

He heard a slightly nervous laugh. “I will allow it, sir. I confess, all of this hunting for food, has given me quite an appetite.”

He stalled just a bit, to ask a question. “I take it you could not sleep? I hope the accommodations are not to blame.” Before she could answer, he added, “Ah, I have found the candle.”

“I have found the tart, broken in three pieces.”

“Cook will no doubt give it to the hounds.” He saw her silhouette as she rose from the floor. “I will relieve you of them.” Elizabeth’s hand grazed his own as she put the crumbs in his hands.

“My chambers are more than comfortable. It is simply I have difficulty sleeping in a new environment. I apologise for roaming through your home, and stealing food. It is not something I usually do, and I am quite embarrassed at being caught.”

“Do not be distressed. If you look towards Mrs Reynolds’s rooms, you can see her candle is lit, and there is no doubt she knows we are here.

I can attest that she has not only perceptive vision, but the most acute hearing of anyone I know.

If you will stay for just a moment, I shall retrieve a fresh tart for you. ”

“I will stay.”

With candle in hand, and crumbs in the other, he walked to the stove, where a low fire was kept even during the night, and relit the candle.

Darcy fetched two fresh tarts from the larder and turned towards Elizabeth.

As he walked closer, the light of the candle brought her into view.

She was so beautiful, sitting at the table, watching him come nearer.

If only late evening assignations with the woman he loved were a customary occurrence in Pemberley’s kitchens.

His heart pounded beneath his shirt. He set the food on the cloth napkins always kept on the table.

“One for you, and one for me,” he said, laughing softly.

“I feel there is a story I have not been privy to, sir. ”

She took a large bite of the pastry, and smiled in complete rapture.

He grinned and glanced down the short hall to Mrs Reynolds’s door; he thought he saw a shadow pass beneath it.

Lowering his voice to just a little more than a whisper, he gestured towards it.

“When I would come down here as a boy, on evenings I could not sleep, Mrs Reynolds would always find something for us to nibble on. And she would always say?—”

“–One for you and one for me.” She smiled at him as she finished his sentence. It was the smile he remembered from Hertfordshire and from Rosings, and it made his heart melt just a bit more.

“Yes. She always did.”

“And is this a nightly occurrence? Stealing pastries even now?”

“In truth, I received dreadful news this evening that made sleep difficult.”

Elizabeth’s smile fell. “Is your sister well?”

“Perfectly so. It is…” He sighed. “The news concerned George Wickham.”

She looked shocked. “What has happened? Is he…dead?”

He nodded. “I have such a mixture of emotions, relief mostly. And yet?—”

“Sadness.”

“Yes. That makes no sense whatsoever, not after all he has put us through.”

“He was at one time a close companion, was he not?” There was a note of empathy and understanding in Elizabeth’s voice.

“At one time. Yes.”

“The heart can feel many things all at once, Mr Darcy. And none of them are wrong, not in this situation. He was your friend and your enemy. It is perfectly commonplace to have mixed feelings.”

“I suppose you are right.” He looked up to see her face glow with the warmth of candlelight. “You have an interesting way of seeing to the heart of matters.”

“I believe I honed that skill as a tutor and governess.” She smiled at him.

“Ah, well that does make sense.”

They were quiet for a few moments while they finished their pastries. Then she looked up at him, a piercingly earnest expression on her lovely countenance.

“Mr Darcy, I do not know how to properly thank you for conveying me safely from London, and–”

“It is only what any gentleman would do.”

“No, it is far more than many would do. It is too much.” She said it so quietly, he almost did not hear.

“What is too much?”

“Everything. Your kindness, this house, a rescue I did not think I would need, or ever have.” She clasped her hands on the table.

“The kindness you have shown to me, and by extension to Sarah and Reggie, it is undeserved, unexpected and so very kind. I can never repay you; I would not even know where to start.”

If only she could see how much she means to me, she would know there is no need for repayment.

Having her with him at Pemberley, even in a darkened kitchen, was to him, a perfect dream come true.

There was so much he wanted to say to her.

And yet, this was neither the time nor the place.

He would be patient. Even if it cost him five more years, he would wait.

“You must not, now or ever, feel obliged to repay me in any way. You owe me nothing. And I ask nothing. But as sure as I live and breathe, I will always endeavour to show you kindness.”

He reached over and gently laid his hand on hers, for a very brief moment, much as one friend would comfort another. And then he rose to leave. “I take it you can find your way back to your rooms without difficulty?”

She nodded.

He nodded in return. “Then I shall bid you a good night.”

As he made to turn the corner to the stairs, he stopped suddenly and looked back at her. “And you are wrong.”

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed slightly.

“You absolutely are deserving of it.”