"You miss your Ed and Anne," suddenly she said, making a statement rather than asking a question. "It is good to see a man who adores his family."
"They are my life," he said with ease, knowing that was true. "My talented Edward and my beautiful Anne. And my little sister Georgiana. I haven't told you, I have a sister too. She sees a beauty in the world that I cannot. It is an empty place without them."
"Then go home, Mr. Darcy. I am grateful to you, but your wife needs you. Especially now. Jane and I will be fine and you have better things to do than play nursemaid to me."
He had been holding his face formed in a friendly, polite expression, but turned to look out the window, suddenly very far away. "My wife is not going to have a child. I don't know why I said that. Wishful thinking, I suppose." He stood abruptly. "I am sorry I lied to you. I'll come back and check on you later."
"Mr. Darcy-" she began, but he shook his head.
His boots tromped down the grand staircase, across the hall, and out to the house. The man sat down heavily on the bench near the house and looked out at the massive park in front of him. He slouched forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head hang, for the first time admitting defeat.
*~~*~~*
"Is everything all right, Ma'am?" he asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway on a white shirt and brown waistcoat, tying his cravat so he was presentable.
"Should you be up so soon? I don't think you should be up so soon, Ma'am," he decided. "Go back to bed. I will do that, Mrs. Daniels. You need to rest."
"I have rested. Now I am fixing breakfast," she responded casually, poking at the contents of the frying pan with a fork. "I cannot keep letting you wait on me, Mr. Darcy. It is not right."
He furrowed his forehead for a few seconds before he understood what she was getting at. "Oh, of course, yes, but circumstances… I realise how bad it looks for me to be here, but you just had a baby, for heaven's sake." He inhaled, feeling awkward. "I will take you to stay with your family, wherever they are," he said resolutely. If you feel well enough to travel, leave your husband a message and he can come for you if or when he returns. You cannot live here alone. Your husband will understand. I would understand if you were my wife. You cannot endanger yourself or your daughter."
She stared at him for a few seconds, long enough to be discomforting, and then, shaking her head in wonder laughed softly.
"What is it?" Darcy asked confused.
"I am not a servant you can order around as you please, and, as you have already pointed out, I am not your wife, either. Not all women weep and hide under the bed every time a shutter rattles or strangers pass through, Mr. Darcy."
"I did not say they did," he said, stumbling through a unique circumstance. She might look like an angel, but she had the temperament of a mule. The dichotomy was challenging, but it had its charms. "I'm only trying to help, Ma'am."
"I am only trying to be polite and say I cannot tolerate any more of your meals. I had no plan of debating propriety or women's suffrage before breakfast. Please, sit down and eat."
"Oh," he said and exhaled.
"Do you want a tea, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, picking up a cup from the shelf above the stove and setting it in front of him. "Then, perhaps, we can debate."
He chuckled to himself and sat down, nodding "yes."
Chapter 2
“I may not have gone where I intended to go,
But I think I’ve ended up where I needed to be.”
- Douglas Adams
He wasn't eloquent around women - never had been - but occasionally, he could sputter out something better than, "Good day, Ma'am. I brought you cows."
Yes, she was pleasant to look at and he was lonely, and they had briefly shared as much romance and intimacy as an old servant's bed, moonlight, and a placenta could offer. Just because she listens to his Edward and Georgiana stories didn't mean she felt anything more than gratitude and friendship toward him, just as he held toward her. She had her bed and baby - and husband - and he had his images of Anne.
"These are not my cows, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth informed him, carrying a basket of fresh eggs as she emerged from the chicken coop. "I thought you were going to England. Have you lost since Monday morning?"
"I did almost reach Gretna Green but as I was riding, I met these cows. I believe they lost home too. Do you know who owns them?" he asked, one hand on each of the rope halters he had created. When she nodded "no," he announced, "Then, until the cows say differently, they remain yours. I thought they would be good for the baby."
"I don't know that she likes cows, Mr. Darcy."
"For milk," he added, as though she might really think he had brought them to be petted. "For Jane."
She crossed her arms over her breasts and he cleared his throat, finding something else to look at. That was a devious trick. Her being a woman on purpose just to distract him.
"Thank you, but that cow has none milk, Mr. Darcy. She will not until she gives birth to a calf. And your other new fellow," she nodded to the huge creature contentedly chewing on his sleeve, "is a bull."
"I know that," Darcy said defensively, jerking his wet sleeve away. "They do seem fond of each other, though. In time, a calf, and milk, should be forthcoming."
"I apologise for my ignorance, Mr. Darcy, but how does one tell if cows are fond of each other?"
His first impulse was to respond saucily, "Ma'am, I can't say in polite company," but he checked himself. Instead, he bit the left side of his tongue between his teeth, knowing there was a "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free" pun in this and afraid it would slip out if he wasn't careful.
"All right. You can put them on your posts," Elizabeth agreed, bending on one he had already set. He'd found various repair projects to keep himself occupied as she recovered, and rebuilding the corral had seemed like a fine, time-consuming idea. Unfortunately, he'd only gotten as far as setting the fence posts. It still lacked any actual enclosure. "Just explain to them where the rails should go. I am sure they will understand. From what I have observed, cows are bright, obedient creatures."
"You are a very difficult woman, Mrs. Daniels. Do you know that?" He said. "I did bring you cows."
"Did you think I desperately needed cattle or did you just need an excuse to come back to check on me? I promise my daughter and I can exist without your supervision for a few days."
"I noticed the cows wandering, and I thought you could take advantage of them. And you can't have cows without a corral. And I dislike leaving my fence half-done," he said, using a tone that he'd always thought sounded like he meant business.
"I thought that was the case."
"Are you telling me you want me to go? I will finish my corral and then go," Darcy said firmly, crossing his arms in imitation of her posture and hoping he didn't look like a child approaching an outburst.
"I didn't invite you to stay in the first place and I am not telling you to leave now. You just come and go like the tides. I could stand on the shore and yell all I liked but the ocean would still ebb and flow as it pleases. I might as well save my breath."
"It doesn't seem like you save your breath," he mumbled just low enough for her not to hear.
She studied him for a while and shifted her basket of eggs to her other arm. "I am glad you returned, Mr. Darcy," she said more warmly. "I was uncertain you would. Where is your horse?"
"Brick's tied near the first river crossing."
She considered another moment before she said, "Tie the cows up, then come inside and eat before you go back to get your horse."
He grinned at her, wiped the cow snot off the back of his hand, and followed her to the house.
*~~*~~*
He had finished his letter before adding just enough wood to the fire in the stove to keep it burning. As July ebbed away, the days were still stifling and the nights only slightly less so. The windows were open, so for the moment, the breeze from the coast cooled the house enough that it was tolerable. Darc
y sat on one wooden chair and propped his black boots up on another, watching the little flames dance behind the cast iron grate.
As he waited for Elizabeth to put the child to bed and return downstairs, he looked around the kitchen, idly taking stock. The wallpaper behind the stovepipe was stained and peeling, and the stove itself could use a good polishing. The kitchen window and floor were scrubbed clean but the kindling box was almost empty. He would need to chop more firewood before he leaves for England. Elizabeth had a big garden that was keeping her in vegetables and some fruits. There were also several ducks and chickens in the coup.
Stray pigs and cows roamed the swamps, but she lacked the strength and probably the skill to butcher one. There was plenty of wild game if she'd known how to hunt. The streams were full of fish. Theoretically, she could make lye soap and tallow candles and other necessities, but that was time-consuming and hard, dirty work. Eventually, she would run out of old sheets and blankets to cut up for clothing for her and the child.
He heard Elizabeth making her way down the stairs and he stood as she entered the kitchen, carrying a basket of soiled diapers on her hip and looking tired.
"She is asleep?"
She nodded. "Yes. Finally."
"Are you wanting to wash those now, Mrs. Daniels? Would you like me to bring in some water?"
"Thank you but they can wait," she replied. "I am sure there will be more by tomorrow morning."
"I am sure." He gave her a slight grin as he took the basket from her and set it aside. "It never ends, does it?" She glanced at him quizzically as she rubbed the small of her back. "The work around here."
Elizabeth straightened her back and rolled her shoulders and squared them.
"No, it does not seem to. But it does pause for a moment," she replied, invited, "I think I will sit outside for a bit. Will you join me, Mr. Darcy?"
He nodded that he would and accompanied her through the house and outside. The bench had been sacrificed for firewood at some point, so she sat on the steps in front of the main door. He sat on the step above her, a decent distance away. In the horizon, the sky was mottled with violet and orange clouds as the sun sank down.
"You finished your corral," she observed, seeing it beside the barn, railings and all. The two cows were penned outside it, chewing their grass contentedly.
"I have finished your corral," he corrected. "I covered the window upstairs with paper."
"I thank you. I am grateful for all you do, Mr. Darcy."
"I am glad to be of some service, Ma'am," he answered politely. "I wish I could do more."
"I wish I could repay you. If you will permit me, I will speak to my husband about compensating you – when he returns, of course."
He didn't respond directly as he tried to think of a gentle way to say that, first, he wasn't looking for repayment, and second, after so many months, he doubted her husband would return home if he left her alone for so long.
"It is kind of you to offer but I would not accept it," he said eventually and added with mock seriousness. "Charity is a virtue and physical labour cleanses the soul. Please do not tempt me from the path of righteous purification."
Her dark eyes twinkled. "Mr. Darcy, I know there is an English word for so much sarcastic nonsense in one sentence and I wish I could remember it right now."
He grinned at her impishly and delivered, "Malarkey. Hooey."
"I think my sisters used different words."
"There is a way you could repay me, Mrs. Daniels."
There was the tiniest hesitation before she asked softly. "How is that, Mr. Darcy?"
"Ease my mind. Allow me to take you and your daughter to Gretna Green and to find a safe place for you until your husband can come for you. Ma'am, you cannot continue to stay here alone," he said earnestly. "You must know that. You and your little girl are completely alone here. Sooner or later, someone will stumble onto you. And you cannot manage this place alone."
"But I am not alone. I have my sarcastic friend Mr. Darcy, who has established himself by intermittent champion, midwife, carpenter, and cattle wrangler," she replied, looking back at him with a grin. His expression was solemn and her smile vanished. She turned away, looking out at the darkening horizon.
"I do know, Mr. Darcy. I have been thinking about that since you left. I did not realise how much work there was in caring for a child or how much you were helping me until you were gone. As you say, it never ends. I do understand your concern but, regardless, my husband is expecting me to remain here."
"Ma'am, I understand you want to follow his wishes, but I cannot believe he would want you putting yourself and your daughter in harm's way. If you were my wife, I would have expected you to go to Gretna Green as soon as you learned you were expecting," he said. "Your duties to your husband include your responsibility for the safety of his child, do they not?" he asked earnestly.
She continued to study the horizon and didn't respond. He noticed his jaws aching, so he unclenched his molars and exhaled.
"I am sorry. I was impertinent. You are not my wife and Jane is not my child. It is not my business and, of course, you are free to do as you like. I only wanted to express my concern."
"But I am not free to do as I like, Mr. Darcy," she said finally. "Am I?"
"I don't understand."
"After so long with no letter, I know it is unlikely my husband will ever return. I know how vulnerable I am here. But, Mr. Darcy, I also know that once I leave this place, there are rules for women in society. I have no family, no resources, nowhere to go, and a respectable woman cannot make her way alone. There must be a man to speak for her, however superficially. I understand those rules, but… But for now, I would rather remain here."
"But yet you know, as a young woman and a mother, with no other prospects, you cannot be alone."
In reply, she adjusted her faded skirt, folding it over so a patched the place didn't show.
"So you hide out here?"
"And you return to hide with me," she added. "Occasionally."
"Occasionally," he agreed and studied on her profile a while.
"I do not mean to cast aspersions against Mr. Daniels," she added, sounding ill at ease. "Or against the virtue of marriage or a husband's right to have control over his wife."
"I would never think that was the case, Ma'am," he responded politely. "You are correct, though. Society has rules and you have your daughter's future to think about."
"Yes."
Her posture remained stiff, and she stared at the horizon, avoiding eye contact with him.
"I am not judging you, Mrs. Daniels. Only trying to think of something that might be helpful."
Her profile nodded slightly.
"Men follow a leader worth following. My father taught me that," he said as she opened her mouth to remind him of that fact. "I only mean this, perhaps it is not the following but the man you follow."
"Perhaps," she agreed carefully.
"The woman is the weaker vessel, yes, but some are weaker than others. I expect to guide my wife but she needs guidance. I would think to be married to you would be like driving a stubborn team of oxen. The man must watch the direction they choose carefully and yell it out in a loud, authoritative voice to give the appearance he is in charge."
She laughed slightly, and he saw her shoulders rise and fall as she exhaled and relaxed. "You are a smart man, Mr. Darcy."
"I'm a husband who knows on which side his bread is buttered."
She paused, still amused but furrowing her brow confusedly.
"I would rather have a woman's respect than her perfect obedience," he explained.
"On which side my bread is buttered," she repeated as if committing the saying to memory. He leaned back, propping his elbows on the step above and crossing his ankles. Above the trees there was still a broad stroke of violet on the horizon but the first stars had appeared.
"You coming all the way out here again to bring me a tea and spending a pretty evening speaking with me.
If there were neighbours, they would tell tales that we were courting. Is that correct Mr. Darcy?"
His posture didn't change except that he turned his head away, looking at the shadowy trees.
"I am sorry. Is, is it vulgar? I thought it meant a man and a woman spending time together. It doesn't mean they are lovers, does it?"
"The phrase is not vulgar." He exhaled slowly and sat up.
"But my comment is upsetting you."
"I wouldn't know about courting, Ma'am," he answered nonchalantly, knowing full well he was being unkind but helpless to hold himself. "I married very young, and I remained married. Like you, I know something of how society dictates our lives."
She gathered her skirt, preparing to stand. "Mr. Darcy, forgive me. I didn't mean to suggest your intentions were dishonourable. I have said something wrong but I am not sure what."
He looked down at the steps, embarrassed. "And I have said far more than I should have, I believe."
Flustered and upset with herself, she said, "Mr. Darcy, I understand you are devoted to your wife. I know married people do not court. I only meant to tease. What the neighbours might say if they saw us… Saw us enjoying each other's company."
He stood, dropping a few steps. "I'll bid you goodnight, Ma'am. Your reputation with the neighbours and all."
She stood, and, since she was now on the step above him, she was eye-level with him. "There are no neighbours, Mr. Darcy. Not for miles."
"Even more reason. Goodnight, Mrs. Daniels," he said softly. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Mr. Darcy," she responded just as gently.
*~~*~~*
"Why did you not wake me?" Elizabeth asked and yawned, stretching sleepily. He stood briefly as she smoothed her skirt under her hips and over her knees before she sat on the stairs in front of the main door. The air had changed, electrified. A storm was approaching, and she had brought a shawl with her against the chill. The woman tried several times to drape it around her shoulders but it twisted and wouldn't cooperate, so she stared at it in sleepy confusion.
Mr Darcy's Second Chance Page 2