Page 15 of Secrets Across the Sea

Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 3

“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said as they made their way to the stable, the new layer of snow crunching beneath their feet as their breath mingled in the crisp air. “I trust you know I would forgo our ride if you would be more comfortable remaining indoors or simply walking. I would not wish you to be uneasy.”

Stilling outside the stable, she shook her head. “No. I must. I have chosen to conquer this and conquer this I shall; I will not allow it to intimidate me further. Three years is too long to allow it purchase. Last night I may have agreed to spare discontent within others… Today I do it for myself as much as them. We cannot allow fear to govern us,” she declared as she stood taller, her gloved fingers gripping the fabric of her pelisse. “Even if giving in is easier, it is little better than a slow, painful death.”

“A woman of character and bravery,” he remarked as they resumed walking, heart pounding as he viewed her in step by his side. “I am impressed. Though, I hope you know that, should you need me, I promise to stay beside you until we are safe returned. You do not have to do this alone.”

Gazing up at him as they reached the stable, Miss Elizabeth smiled. “My pride may not wish to say it, but I am thankful for the offer. It eases me to know I do not have to face this alone.” Looking down at her feet, she laughed, “If only Mr. Bingley had not fallen; it has done nothing to soothe my worries. I did not give his escapades much thought aside from the amusement or distress of my sisters… my promise at supper set it fresh in my mind.”

Standing to full height, Darcy’s eyes brighten. The trust of such an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman… even after Mr. Thomson’s words? She almost made him believe in himself. That he might be more than a man shunned by much of the Ton. That he did not need a title or prominence. Instead–as sappy as it sounded–he simply needed love. Of his sisters. Friends–Cousin included. And maybe someone to share it with, should things move on as they had begun.

Well, love and purpose, for he could never be a man idle.

“I believe,” he said at last, his notice fixed on the gleam of her fine eyes, “Mr. Bingley may have been seeking to impress a certain sister of yours and was taking a jump he should not have attempted. I doubt you will do the same; there is nothing to fear.”

“I hope it was my elder sister,” she said, eyes crinkling as she turned to go inside.

A breeze stirring the scent of hay and manure in the close space, Darcy followed after, her words left unanswered as they met up with her sisters, Fitz, and Bingley.

“We were wondering where you two were,” Bingley teased as a groom led their horses toward the mounting blocks. “Champion here could scarce endure it.”

“You mean you could not endure it,” Darcy huffed as he moved past him to Miss Elizabeth’s side.

“He was the more restless of the two,” Fitz smirked as he assisted Miss Mary.

Before Bingley could form a proper scowl, it faded in the presence of Miss Bennet, the pair wrapped in sweet smiles and doe eyed looks.

Bingley appeared well on his way to falling in love, Darcy considered as he waited for the groom to ready the mare Miss Elizabeth would ride. Perhaps the younger man might do with some advice? To slow his romantic leanings a little? To view that estate he talked of–surely, he would wish to have such business settled before marrying?

Though even for Bingley, with his tendency to leap first and consider what might occur after… even for him, it was too early to consider matrimony. But that was exactly what it looked like he was doing–after so short a time!

Miss Bennet would not be rash though, even if Bingley was. Miss Elizabeth was proof of the thoughtful intelligence of that family. Indeed, if Bingley considered before leaping, Miss Bennet might be just the right woman for him. Miss Elizabeth as a sister-in-law would do Bingley no harm after all. None at all.

“Your horse, Miss,” the groom said as the mare stood still by the mounting block, Darcy ready to assist in any possible way.

“Remember,” he whispered to Miss Elizabeth, her hand in his as he helped her find her seat, “I will be close by should you need me… though I doubt you shall. You are more capable than you know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her unsteady frown turning to an unsteady smile.

Lips thinned as he forced himself to leave her side to mount his gelding, Darcy’s eyes scarcely left her. She was capable. She would be fine. But he could do nothing to ease her discomfort… and that raked at him as little else could.

“West, North, or South today?” Miss Mary asked as the wind picked up before turning to explain to Miss Elizabeth. “We went East yesterday, which direction would you like to go?”

“Over there,” Miss Elizabeth breathed as she hesitantly motioned toward a flat, open field.

“Of course; what a wonderful idea,” she returned, her voice laced with cheer for her sister’s sake.

Moving to the front of their group, Miss Mary set an easy pace, her eyes cutting toward Miss Elizabeth regularly. He would not be the only one looking out for her, though he would endeavor to see to her comfort.

With a light tug of his reins, Darcy found a place by Miss Elizabeth’s side, his mount’s pace conforming to her mare’s stride for stride.

“Are you comfortable, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked softly as she stared down at her saddle, the reins gripped tight in her hands. “Or I should say, is there anything I can do to make you more so?”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me,” she chuckled as she forced her head upright, “though I do not believe that this mare sought such intimidation. What is her name even, I wonder? I did not ask… she and I might have better relations if we were on a first name basis.”

“Heather,” he answered, “Fitz and your sister visited the stable this morning to seek out the perfect mount for you, and when he returned, he told me your mare’s name was Heather, for she came from Scotland and Lady Charmane felt that Thistle or Loch would not befit such a sweet lady as Heather is. She, by now, must know your name as well, so you two are on the road to friendship I believe.”

“Heather,” Miss Elizabeth smiled. “It suits her. As for friendship… I cannot say yet, though she has made no move I can decry, and she is not as tall as those we have at Longbourn, which is a mark in her favour.”

“She is a little smaller than most, but not much.”

“Compared to ours she is… they double in duty you see, none of them could be spared solely for riding, and thus we chose larger and sturdier stock. Jane and Mary never shied away from them, and they each enjoyed riding more than all of our sisters, so what opportunity any of us could find, they were first slated to ride. Then once they had, Lydia would, and then Kitty, and by the time I could have ridden I more often than not chose to give my turn to Jane or Mary. I had every opportunity, you see, but I chose not to. Lack of interest mainly… but lack of courage too, I admit with great reluctance. I do not like to be bested by much; I still did not put up much of a fight in this.”

“You said yourself, you were not interested,” he said as Miss Mary and Fitz led their group, Bingley and Miss Bennet trailing behind. “It is easier to give up on a thing you do not have passion for; all the more so if you do not even find purpose and duty in it. Riding is as anything in that, and we all must have an inner need to go beyond, or else we are little more than boats laid out on the shore. Your need to go beyond simply has not included riding; until now that is, for that turn to your countenance tells much. You have decided already to let your courage rise, have you not?”

“I have… though I am surprised you could tell that as easily as you did. Do I appear so very fierce?” she questioned; cheeks and nose pinked from the cold.

“Determined perhaps, fierce well… only if I were the thing you wished to conquer. As it stands, your expression is for riding, so I count myself safe.”

“Safe indeed, Mr. Darcy,” she laughed as she allowed Heather to walk at her normal pace, his own falling a few steps behind. Glancing over her shoulder she cried gaily, “Catch us if you can!”

Lifting his reins he grinned, He would do just that.

∞∞∞

Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 4

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Thomson sneered as he sat back, hands steepled in front of him as he observed Darcy lazily, “You have been to America. Tell me, what is your view of this war they began?”

Head jerking toward the pompous man, Darcy’s eyes narrowed. For days Mr. Thomson had been whispering rumours and outright lies to anyone who would listen. Each venomous whisper regarding the Darcy family heritage and their connections to America, but particularly of their grandfather and even their father being a traitor to the Crown!

Illegal or not, he would gladly duel the man if he made one more remark!

But his sisters, he reminded himself, they still had need of him. And, he smiled as he recalled the beguiling Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as much as he had witnessed her own ire at Mr. Thomson’s accusations, he would despair at having her angry at him. And her approving a duel after their earlier jest seemed unlikely.

A pity he would have to restrain himself.

Taking a full breath, he prepared to answer the man, for all the good it might do, only to find Lord Brayburn joining the conversation.

Laying aside his newspaper, he took up his tea as he remarked, “The Americans do have valid reasons for their ire–though I will admit war is a strong response. When that Erskine fellow–a minister of our government you may recall–gave promise to President Madison that we would withdraw our Orders in Council, our government ought to have stood behind it in spite of Erskine exceeding his authority. It had been in consideration before after all. Instead, they let it stand until earlier this year–over three years after Erskine’s promise!”

“That man had no authority,” Mr. Thomson scoffed. “None! What sort of precedent would it have set to other ministers abroad? What message would it send to other nations? America included. They are a nation without regard. Indeed, it may do them well to discover their own insignificance–this war is able to remind them of that.”

“What message? That Great Britain keeps her word! Disavowing Erskine’s promise does us no favours with the Americans, or in Europe for that matter. Our word appears faulty. Our honour, lacking. No. War was not the answer, but what trust had been earned was broken. That, doubtless, gave them renewed suspicion; past wrongs recalled to present in their minds.”

“Past wrongs? IF we had done any wrongs, they had been righted. Truly, their being upset over the impressment of a few, inconsequential seamen is petty at best; it has been done for centuries, and not by us alone. No. Other nations have and do still add to their vessels that way, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

“American citizens being taken is hardly inconsequential when there is the threat of war. Our resources are needed for this wretched war with France. What say you, Mr. Darcy?” Lord Brayburn questioned as he turned his back toward Mr. Thomas.

“That a war with America is the last thing we require. As you say, Lord Brayburn, it is foolish. No matter one’s opinion on who is right or wrong, a war is far from what is needed. We have been fighting Napoleon for years, and warring with France for longer still. Another war. Another front. That is folly. And the Americans are no more in need of another war than we are. It is now the duty of our governments to set aside grievances in the pursuit of peace. And make concessions if that is what is required. That is my view.” Darcy said, a curt glance sent toward Mr. Thomson before making his way toward the window, the snow coming down heavy and fast.

Would that this conversation might end. For all Lord Brayburn’s well-meaning defense of the Americans, Mr. Thomson would not be moved in his opinion, save deeper into his… and with far less tolerance for the Darcy family’s American ties.

“Well. I cannot quarrel with such a view,” Lord Brayburn smiled, “Mr. Thomson may not agree, still, I should think even he sees the war as a waste of resources better serving conflicts closer to home… and our brave men.”

Blustering Mr. Thomson stood, “Indeed, I do, but as I said before, those coarse Americans deserve to learn that they are not indomitable. And that,” he added as he turned toward Darcy, “they would do well to remember their place. To recall they should tarry far from our bright shores.”

“Bright? Only a few stretches of coast might lay claim to that,” Lord Brayburn chuckled, “And even then, not so greatly on days such as we are having. Will it even cease to snow, I wonder?”

“It was a metaphor.”

“A metaphor? I see, well then, we need not worry about the snow,” Lord Brayburn smirked; Mr. Thomson’s face reddening as he turned to depart.

Mr. Thomson’s vitriol would be fierce in the coming days.

Fierce indeed.