Page 13 of Secrets Across the Sea

Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 2

Having failed to draw his curtains the night prior, the exhaustion of travel and hours of company with strangers worked together to permit the sun an occupation rarely had in the dark months of the season, that of awakening an early riser. Already the ice which had formed on the panes of his window began to thaw, and though the world outside glistened in the shimmer of a new layer of snow gifted as they slept, the scattered clouds above floated as if avoiding the sun.

If all went well, Darcy reflected as he stood before the chill of the window, his cousin would be able to content himself with a long walk or a ride. Miss Elizabeth would doubtless be equally keen. Perhaps he ought to offer his services as a companion? If the snow melted as quickly as it appeared there would be patches of slush and mud everywhere… it would not do to leave her to fend for herself, would it? And he would not mind the exercise.

Yes.

He would ask her.

In less than half an hour, dressed and anxious to see if he might be of some service to Miss Elizabeth, Darcy strode down to the dining room, his cousin, Miss Mary, and Lord Brayburn the only ones present.

“Mr. Darcy?” Lord Brayburn questioned politely from his place at the sideboard, a sausage speared in one hand and a plate held in the other. “I am correct I hope–with the informality of introductions at the table last evening, I fear I shall find myself mistaken on one name or another before the day is out.”

“You are correct,” Darcy answered stiffly as he procured a plate of his own; the man’s title enough to vex him. “And you are Lord Brayburn. I trust you slept well?”

“Indeed. Yourself?”

“Quite.”

“Darcy,” Fitz interrupted with perfect timing .

Another minute and the list of expected pleasantries would have been used up, what with Miss Elizabeth not yet arrived to steal his attentions.

An earl. He ought to have expected men of the Ton in the home of a countess, but he had been fixed on overcoming his objections to her position… too fixed, it seemed, to consider the inevitable. That he must endure three weeks with lords and ladies.

“Darcy,” Fitz said again, this time with a light shake to Darcy’s shoulders. “Whatever is the matter with you this morning? Come, sit and eat. Is that all you are having?”

Staring down at his plate, Darcy frowned. One lone sausage he did not recall setting there rolled lazily across the fine porcelain.

Snatching toast, another sausage, and filling a cup with coffee–however weak it may yet prove–he hurried to the table to sit beside his cousin who had planted himself by Miss Mary. Further down the table Lord Brayburn largely ignored his plate of food and them, the paper he read of far greater interest.

“Now then, Darcy, I trust that coffee will see you present enough to hear my question,” Fitz smirked before taking a bite of sausage. “I hoped to ask if you would join Miss Mary and myself on a ride this morning? If not, I imagine Bingley would enjoy it.”

“What would I enjoy?” Bingley questioned as he entered with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.

“A ride with myself and Miss Mary,” Fitz answered as he stood. “Perhaps her sisters might join as well?”

“Capital, capital,” Bingley grinned. “Do say you ladies will come.”

“I should enjoy it,” Jane answered brightly.

Turning his attention to Miss Elizabeth, Fitz inclined his head, “And you Miss Elizabeth? Shall you be joining us?”

“I fear riding is not a favourite of mine,” Elizabeth remarked, “though I thank you for asking. Jane and Mary are much better horsewomen than I. Certainly, they enjoy it more. Do not give me that worried look Mary, I am well able to occupy myself for the time you and Jane are gone.”

“Indeed,” Darcy added, his chance to be of use to Miss Elizabeth opened wide. “I recall hearing you are fond of walking, Miss Elizabeth. If you would prefer that to horseback riding, I would happily join you.”

Brows high, Miss Elizabeth nodded, “I am… fond of walking that is. Well then, my sisters have nothing to fear regarding my entertainment. There is nothing for knowing the countryside like a walk.”

Countryside? Of course. He had not supposed a stroll in the garden, but so far from the house they would require a chaperone. Glancing about the room, Darcy frowned as Lord Brayburn proved the only present option. Still, he could withstand his presence for the sake of Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps by the time they were to depart, someone else would see fit to join them and speak with that man for… well, the whole walk if he were fortunate? Unlikely, though far from impossible.

“Lord Brayburn,” he remarked, interrupting the man’s newspaper, “would you care to join Miss Elizabeth and I on a walk?”

∞∞∞

A quarter of an hour later, Miss Elizabeth and the two gentlemen made their way toward a fine grove of oaks, Darcy fortunate enough to have Miss Bennet on his arm, though unfortunate in that no one but Lord Brayburn had joined them.

“You have four sisters, I believe?” Lord Brayburn asked Elizabeth as the shadow of the trees fell over them, Darcy turning his gaze to the man with interest.

Lord Brayburn had begun a polite conversation at breakfast, yet had spoken little besides. His tendency to silence only ended whenever he felt politeness demanded it, leastwise that is how it appeared. If another cause for the man’s sporadic conversation were present, it would not likely be determined by him.

“I do,” Miss Elizabeth smiled. “Jane and Mary, whom you have met, and Catherine and Lydia who were unable to join us.”

“Not a lonely Christmastime for them, I hope?” Darcy interjected as he led her around an old fallen tree, their breath billowing brightly in the cool dark of the grove.

“Doubtless somewhat, as this is the first time we sisters have not all been together for it,” Miss Elizabeth sighed, the grip of her hand on his arm growing firmer, “though Kitty, or Catherine rather, well… she is glad to be at home. Catherine is to be married in the spring to the younger son of a neighboring family and therefore, she and Lydia will be guests at Lucas Lodge more often than they may wish before the season is over.”

“Your sister, Lydia, who does not have the amity of an intended and his family may be more apt to find it wearying than the other,” Lord Brayburn frowned as he wove around a tree. “Where fresh, new love allows everything to please when the object of that affection is near; the absence of it can ache as nothing else can. This time of year, especially.”

Lips thinned, Miss Elizabeth turned a sad gaze toward Lord Brayburn. “True. Though given Lydia is not yet out and that her best friend is of their family and is bound to ever be by Lydia’s side, she, at least, will not feel the ache you speak of. I hope no one in attendance here endures such discomfort.”

“No,” Lord Brayburn answered, his pace halted as he turned toward the way they had come. “I fear I have a deuced of a headache. Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, I should not have used such language in front of a lady.”

“Of course,” she acknowledged, her brows furrowed as she looked up at Darcy. “I suppose we ought to make our way back then; the garden, though, may yet be worth exploring if you do not mind continuing Mr. Darcy?”

“I would be happy to,” he said, his throat tight and heart darting about as his eyes met hers.

Thus, the three of them returned the way they had come, the thin layer of snow marred only by their footprints and those of deer which had passed by earlier in the day.

Covering the broad expanse between grove and gothic manor, Lord Brayburn gave apology for ending their walk as he had before scurrying into the house, his great coat swaying as he went.

“Well, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy remarked as the doors closed behind Lord Brayburn, “shall we visit the gardens?”

“I am all curiosity,” she laughed as she took his arm again, the pair making their way around the house toward the main decorative garden. “I realize a garden in December is hardly in possession of rare beauty, however, beside the snow adorning it with glittering white, it ought to be interesting in its own right. From my window I could see an impressive topiary maze. I could not tell from above if it is high enough to prove a challenge or merely decorative… but it did intrigue me.”

Rounding the corner, the question as to the size of the maze would remain no longer. The height of the living walls reached higher than Darcy, and its outer walls continued on and on in such a way as to recall the foundation of the grand house they were guests in.

Perhaps they ought to wait until someone wished to join them? Miss Elizabeth had suggested the garden as a socially acceptable walk when a gentleman and lady found themselves without a chaperone. Within those high walls unattended, her reputation could prove less staid if someone were to see them enter or leave.

“It is grand indeed,” Darcy said as he gazed at the white tipped expanse of foliage before them glistening as the sun emerged from behind a cloud. “Your sisters will doubtless wish to try it.”

There. He had been subtle. Hopefully that hint did not cause any dissatisfaction with him. Her joy, her approval, those were things he wanted more than he could understand.

He hardly knew her; he ought not feel as he did.

“Yes, I believe they would,” she smiled up at him, her cheeks pinked from the cold. “Your cousin and Mr. Bingley might enjoy it as well. In the meantime, there is a smaller garden on the other end of the house, perhaps we might see what is there?”

Were they truly near strangers? When they talked it seemed as if they had never been so… as if, beyond reason, they had been friends forever.

Directing their steps toward the other garden, they strolled at an easy pace; the fluttering of birds and the sparkle of the day fine enough to entertain in their brief moments of silence.

The sleeping garden displayed no flowers, though in its size, shape, and ornamentation, its spring beauty could effortlessly be imagined.

“And your sisters and you work with your tenants directly?” Darcy awed, their talk having turned to those activities which most often took their time. “Contend with the running of the estate in every area?”

“Mary works with me more than the rest; not that they are not active and hardworking, merely that Mary and I tend to see to the tenants, the crops, the buildings, that sort of thing,” Miss Elizabeth said as they paused to admire the statue of a warrior in chainmail. “Jane oversees the running of the house and the bookkeeping–I can manage such things, yet she has such skill with numbers that I may have bargained to let her do that work. Our youngest sisters, Catherine and Lydia, well, they help Jane usually… though I cannot sing their praises enough. Both work long hours to help where they may; even beyond our home.”

Chuckling softly, Darcy turned from the statue to view Miss Bennet, her brow raised as her eyes flitted toward his mouth.

“I am impressed, truly,” he hurried. “I laugh only because it is as we spoke last night, of that odd world we live in between that of sibling and parent. I am as proud of my sisters as you are of yours–even if the reasons for my pride are bound to differ, the feeling is the same. Your sisters are fortunate to have you.”

“As are yours,” she answered before moving toward another statue, the harp playing figure recalling a young biblical David. “It is strange however to see that we are not alone in such pliable relationships. It is easy enough to realize that, with all the many people here and abroad, there must be siblings taking on the role of parent. It is another to peer through a window which, in certain lights, allows one to see both inside the life of another and back toward oneself–like when the rising sun is faint and the candles inside paint a picture of all that is within on top of the world outside. When we talk it is just that way. Our lives are as different as a woodland and a parlour, yet at times, I have seen my world overlain yours.”

Shaking her head Miss Elizabeth frowned. “It is ridiculous. I apologize, Mr. Darcy, for rambling as I have. Ought we go in?”

“Miss Elizabeth,” he assured, his hand coming to rest on her arm as she moved to return inside, “we are much the same. Leastwise, what we have endured, for better or worse, it has bridged the difference. The truth is rarely ridiculous.”

“Darcy,” his cousin remarked from the edge of the garden, Darcy’s hand falling from Miss Elizabeth’s arm, “I am charged with a message from Lady Charmane; it seems the final guests have arrived early and she wishes to introduce all.”

“Of course,” Darcy answered, his arm held out for Miss Elizabeth. “I trust your ride went well? You were not gone long.”

“Bingley fell into a stream early on, I fear,” Fitz said, his lips pulling upward though he fought it well. “Between the wet and mud and cold Miss Bennet insisted we return and ride again tomorrow once we were certain he suffered no ill effects.”

“I look forward to the tale in greater detail,” Darcy noted, a small smile forming as Miss Elizabeth and he began to make their way through the garden.

For some moments they walked in silence, Fitz to the house long before they reached the garden’s edge, until a gentle pressure on his arm drew his attention to Miss Elizabeth.

“Thank you for your words, Mr. Darcy. They are appreciated. Truly.”

“They were honest, as I hope you realize your words were.”

“I suppose they were,” Miss Elizabeth acknowledged as they neared the house. Stilling by the door, her eyes sparkled gaily, “I do hope that, if the tale your cousin relays is a good one, you will share it? Mary may share a fine one, but Jane is unlikely to; she will be too worried for your friend to see the humour at first.”

“Of course,” he chuckled as he opened the door for her, his eyes fixed to her as she passed through.

Her presence eased something in him… and wonderfully unsettled him. His heart had leapt about since he first noticed the vivacity in her look, in her speech. Taking a deep breath as he followed her in, he tapped down his emotions. The pace at which his heart moved would not be borne. Though they had met years before, little more than a day had he known her. Truly, but a moment in a life.

Friendship. Conversation. Time. Those were key. If he fell for Miss Elizabeth Bennet it would be staid. Controlled. And HE would be the one to tell himself when it was respectable to lose his heart. Only then.