Page 10 of The Painting (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

D arcy woke up the next morning with a terrible headache, not surprising after another sleepless night.

The long swimming adventure had proved to be excellent relief and palliation for his discomposure, exhausting his body and relaxing his mind.

But not completely, as the image of Elizabeth that had tortured him for so many months still refused to leave.

While he was swimming back to the shore, he had had the distinct feeling that he had seen her at the edge of the water, a chimaera dressed in white, with the wind blowing in her hair, staring right at him as though she was waiting for him, calling to him.

Of course, he knew it was only a figment of his tormented imagination, as it had proven to be moments later, when the spectre had disappeared.

But the image followed him in his mind as he returned to the house, and his anguish continued until dawn.

By breakfast time, his disposition had improved and he was ready to go downstairs. The appearance of the house had already improved after only a couple of days of additional help, and he was pleased with the changes that were slowly bringing the cottage back to life.

“Mr Darcy, will Mr Bingley join you this morning? I have prepared the meal for two,” Mrs Clarke said. “Oh, and I spoke to Jenny, you know, about the matter you mentioned to me.”

“Bingley stayed overnight with some friends, so he will not join me. However, I would be delighted if you would share breakfast with me.”

“Oh, I have already eaten. But I will gladly keep you company. I hope Mr Bingley was not displeased with our accommodations?”

“Not at all, Mrs Clarke. But I suspect he was caught up in some lively entertainment and his companions would not allow him to leave. He is quite a popular gentleman, with many friends,” Darcy answered, half in jest.

“Sir, are you pleased with how we are progressing with the house? I have written to my daughter too; I still cannot believe my good fortune to have you back here, Mr Darcy!”

“I am exceedingly pleased. And this ham is delicious,” he offered.

“Thank you, I will tell Jenny—she will be very happy to hear you liked it. Oh, by the way, Jenny remembered something. She said Lady Anne was quite close to Sarah Crawford—you know, the one who keeps the Crawford Cottage now. In the past it was the Hodge Cottage, that was the name of Sarah’s parents.

I forgot about it… I told you Jenny’s memory is much better.

Besides, we all spent several years away from Brighton, but she has always been here, since she was a young girl. ”

Darcy’s heart was now beating faster. Could there be any useful details in this new revelation?

“And Jenny said Lady Anne was also very close to the Fitzroys’ daughter, Beatrice. You know, Julia’s mother—the one who plays the pianoforte. She must be two or three years older than you. Julia, I mean.”

“I cannot recollect any of these names, or ladies,” Darcy replied, fighting with his hazy recollections.

“Well, both Sarah and Beatrice moved away when they married. I am not certain if they married before Lady Anne or afterwards, but Jenny said she can ask them. She said everybody loved Lady Anne and they will be thrilled to meet you.”

Darcy felt his cheeks flush.

“Please tell Jenny how grateful I am for this piece of information, but kindly ask her not to enquire further. I would rather keep my presence here private for the moment, as I have some unfinished business in town.”

“I see. Of course—as you wish.”

“And please tell Jenny that I would like to have a cup of tea with her and share some memories, anytime she wishes to.”

“Oh…I do not think she would have tea with you, sir. I can barely convince her to keep me company from time to time. But she will gladly tell you anything that she remembers, I am sure of that.”

“I am sure we will find an acceptable compromise about the tea and conversation,” Darcy said lightly. “Now please excuse me, I am going out for a ride. I will leave word for Bingley, in case he returns in the meantime.”

In less than half an hour, Darcy’s horse had been prepared and he set out on the same path he had taken on the day he arrived. He longed for solitude and silence, and there was no better place than the secluded bay he had discovered.

So now he was certain that his mother had at least two lady friends among the neighbours.

It was most likely that one of these two had a connection with the man behind the letters.

Mrs Sarah Crawford was still there, but Beatrice had sadly passed away.

Her daughter, however, was still there. Julia?

She was a little older than him—did he ever meet her?

Quite unlikely; or perhaps when he was very young, as he could not recall any of those names.

Darcy’s solitary reverie ended when the sun reached its zenith around noon and suddenly the clouds rolled in and the wind became stronger.

The weather was still pleasant—even more so than the previous warmth—and the waves crashing over the shore were inviting.

He abandoned any restraint, looked around to be certain there was nobody watching, and indulged himself with another swim—this time in the full light of day—before he finally returned home.

∞∞ ∞

The Gardiner children’s enthusiasm and excitement for swimming was unluckily spoiled by the clouds and the cold wind.

The bathing machine was still at the shore, but Mrs Gardiner decided she should not risk them catching a cold.

However, their new friends—Annie and James—who lived only two houses away—called for them over the fence, holding their puppy and kitten.

After much pleading, Mrs Gardiner reluctantly allowed them to go and play with their new friends, but only after she paid a brief call on their mother, Julia Norwood.

As Jane claimed a headache and Mary was busy reading, only Elizabeth joined her aunt.

Mrs Norwood was a lady of around thirty years, with a flawless figure, elegant manners and a most charming smile on her beautiful face. She was thrilled to make their acquaintance and invited them to join her for tea.

The three ladies enjoyed their time in the garden, at a small table under a parasol, with a pleasant view of the sea, where they could keep a close eye on the children playing.

“Please know that they are always welcome to come and play with James and Annie. They rarely meet new friends of their own age here, so they are overjoyed. I know Mrs Crawford rents room, so the other guests might be disturbed by children’s games, but here they have complete privacy,” Mrs Norwood said, and Mrs Gardiner thanked her most warmly.

“The children are simply wonderful,” Elizabeth interjected. “They have only known each other for two days and are already best friends.”

“True. It is a joy to observe their candour and the kindness of their hearts. It is such a pity that most of us change once we grow up,” their host admitted.

“George and David are planning to take swimming lessons from James,” Mrs Gardiner said in jest.

“Their father—my husband—taught both Annie and James to swim when they were almost infants. As a naval captain, my husband is very fond of the sea and so are the children. But he also taught them to be prudent and careful, to avoid any danger, as the sea can be deceptive. He has often told them that no swimmer, as good as he might be, could take on the sea and win the battle against it.”

“What a wonderful lesson, indeed,” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed. “They must miss their father very much.”

“We all do. We employ our time as best we can, waiting for his return. They are busy with their studies and games and I try to support them as much as I can. And in my spare time, I play the pianoforte.”

“You play so beautifully. Do you practice every day?” Elizabeth enquired.

“I am not sure how beautiful it is, but I learned to play when I was very young, probably at the same time I learned to walk,” she jested. “I hope I did not disturb you.”

“No, not at all. Quite the contrary—we have been admiring your performances since the first day we arrived.”

“Do you play, Miss Bennet?”

“A little and very ill—at least compared with you. But I am knowledgeable enough to realise my deficiency, so I deserve praise at least for that,” Elizabeth laughed.

“Please come and practice with me whenever you wish—I would be delighted with your company.”

“Thank you, Mrs Norwood, I might do that. Not to practice myself, but for the pleasure of watching you practice.”

The conversation continued in the same pleasant manner until Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner realised how quickly the time had passed.

More clouds covered the sky and the sound of the waves was amplified by the increasing wind.

They decided to return home, but the children pleaded to be allowed to stay longer.

“Mrs Gardiner, if it is no inconvenience for you, do not worry about allowing them to stay. We will bring them home at whatever time you wish,” Mrs Norwood whispered, mother to mother.

Mrs Gardiner nodded, convinced by the lady’s genuine friendliness, and gave her permission, which was met by six enthusiastic cheers and some matching barking, sealing the new friendships between both the children and the ladies.

∞∞ ∞

Darcy arrived at the cottage and dismounted, as thunder announced the upcoming storm. He asked Stevens about Bingley, and was informed that he had not arrived yet.

“Then I will take a walk,” he said briefly.

His reflections had increased his curiosity and, despite his prudence, he could not help walking past the houses that could have once held his mother’s secret.

He wished for nothing more than a glimpse, perhaps to spot some faces that he might recognise.

It would probably be no help, but it could do no harm either.

Due to the changing weather, the beach was almost deserted; he only spotted the odd silhouette. Inside the gardens bordering the beach there were people gathered and their conversations carried on.

His attention was drawn by the sound of the pianoforte again and he now knew that it was Julia, the daughter of his mother’s friend, who was playing.

Could he dare call on her? Introduce himself?

Intruding upon his musings, the loud and frightened voices of children startled him and he hurried closer to the noise.

In the Fitzroys’ garden there was a large tree, and under it were two girls and a boy—all of a very young age—who were shouting to another boy, who was apparently climbing the tree.

“What happened? May I help you?” he asked them, and the children answered in different voices but with the same despair, accompanied by a small dog’s barks.

“Smudge ran up the tree and she might fall down and die and James has climbed up after her but he cannot get her down and George and Annie went to get help! And look, Smudge is there, on that branch!”

Darcy scrutinised the tree, the boy and the kitten, which was meowing fearfully.

“Is your mother not home? ”

“She is, Annie went to fetch her,” the boy explained, as he made another move and his foot slipped, which was accompanied by a small, frightened cry.

“James, may I come up and try to help you down?”

“Yes, yes,” the other children cried. Darcy looked around, hoping to see an adult, as he felt uncomfortable imposing on a situation in a stranger’s garden.

Eventually, he abandoned any restraint and in just a few steps, he was up in the tree.

He took the boy by the arm and slowly helped him onto the lowest branch so he could jump down.

Then, with a little more struggle, he grabbed the kitten too and minutes later he was back on the ground.

Around him, the children were cheering and screaming with joy, overwhelming him with thanks, and Darcy answered them with much seriousness, while he could hardly conceal his amusement.

In the midst of the uproar, a lady’s voice interjected with apparent fright.

“What on earth happened here? James, are you hurt? And where is George?”

“George went to call for Mama. James was very brave but he got stuck in the tree and then he slipped but thank God we found a saviour who saved us and Smudge!” the youngest presented the situation breathlessly.

Darcy found himself in front of a woman, and they stared at each other in silence. She was extremely beautiful, with dark hair and dark eyes, her skin was tanned and there was a little frown between her eyebrows as she examined him cautiously.

Nothing about the lady was even vaguely familiar to Darcy. Under the present circumstances, he had no choice left, so he bowed formally and said, “Forgive me for imposing, madam. I heard the children screaming and I thought I might be of some help.”

“There is nothing to apologise for sir, quite the contrary. We are very grateful for your intervention. May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of expressing my gratitude?”

“No gratitude is needed, I assure you. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

The effect of his words on the lady’s expression was immediate. Puzzlement, surprise, incredulity, wonder.

“Forgive me, sir, this is quite astonishing. Darcy, you said? Are you by any chance related to the Darcys of Pemberley? To Lady Anne Darcy?”

He nodded slightly.

“Lady Anne was my mother.”

The lady’s eyes widened in disbelief and she stepped closer, still staring. She was much shorter than him, so she lifted her face to better see him.

“Are you Will Darcy? Could it be possible?” she enquired, while the children were now silent, watching them curiously.

“I am…”

“Dear Lord! Will Darcy!” she exclaimed, and suddenly embraced him in a gesture that left him stunned and still. Embarrassed and uncertain what to do, he reluctantly returned the embrace, smiling at the children.

Only then did he notice another boy, a little older, holding tightly onto the hand of the last woman he expected to see there: Elizabeth Bennet.

She was gazing at him, dumbstruck. Their eyes met and locked in shared amazement, and Darcy slowly withdrew from the unexpected embrace, gently pushing the woman away.

Elizabeth struggled to breathe, distrusting the sight in front of her.

“Miss Bennet…” he murmured in a low voice.

“Mr Darcy…”