In Search of Happiness

by Nicky Roth

  I am still quite content where I am. Just now I am sitting out of doors perched on a stile – hence the pencil. It would be a little too tedious to attempt to use a quill and ink under these conditions. Oh, and I made a new friend. He is a bit on the prickly side, but I guess he cannot help it. Ah yes, he is still here curled up in a neat little ball snoring softly at my feet. But do not tell Brutus or he will be jealous.

  You asked whether there is a suitable house here in the neighbourhood and indeed there is. Netherfield Park is to let. But do I dare mention that I doubt it will suit your sister? I did not have a chance to look at it, naturally, for it is three miles from here and this is my first afternoon off in the time I have been here, so you will have to come and see for yourself. It is said to be grand, but I think your sister's thoughts are more along the lines of Chatsworth or Matlock than of a more modest country house. However, I ascertained from Smith who used to work there as a kitchen maid in her youth, that it has no more than twenty family rooms. (By the way, Smith is the cook. Just in case you were wondering.) The society here is also rather limited, though very nice by all accounts. So as said, it is well worth your consideration.

  Yours etc.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  He had written without much thought, just basically slotted down what had come to mind and now looking at the missive again he was almost shocked to see his composition. It was most certainly a first that he had written so openly and unrestrained.

  For a moment he considered starting again but then decided against it. Dinner hour was coming closer and he at least wanted to start on the letter to Georgiana even though it was unlikely that he would finish it. But he would have to be more careful there.

  Dearest sister,

  do not fret, it is not on you to make me happy but on me to make you so. I almost feel like scolding you for thinking such nonsense but alas, I am also touched by your concern for me. However, it is not you who burdens me, but the tediousness of society. You are nothing but joy, my little darling sister. Ever since you were born I was nothing but proud of you and I love you dearly, never forget that. If you could be here, my present happiness would be complete.

  I have been pondering for a while now about your stay in Bath, and though your last letter sounded cheerful, I know full well that you do not like being at school so far away, and so I have come to the conclusion that the situation must be remedied, though how I am not quite sure of yet.

  If I were to marry, of course, that would solve a lot for both of us and

  No, he was about to say too much of what he ought not feel. Carefully crossing out the last line he began again.

  But all will work out in good time.

  Yes, that was much better, if, perhaps, a bit vague.

  I liked your assessment of Miss Caroline, soon to be Miss Bingley, for her older sister is getting married. I just had the news from their brother and was, admittedly, quite surprised. Not that she does marry, but that she marries a man she has not known for very long. Yes, Caroline Bingley can be a little overwhelming at times. I share the sentiment.

  So, I guess you are curious to hear what I have been up to and so I will not have you wait any longer, though it is not much, really. Today, for example, I cut the lawn and made a new friend by the name of Prickler. At least that is what I call him and it is quite fitting. If I could draw in any shape or form that is past a triangle or quadrangle I would do so now, for I am sure he would put a smile on your face just as he does on mine, but then again, just imagine the cutest little hedgehog and you will know exactly how Prickler looks. At present, he is curled up at my feet and fast asleep. Well, he should have done so during the day, but he was too busy following me around. Is that not curious? Then again, I always got on better with animals than with people. They are delightfully devoid of all pretence. If they like you, they will come and if not they will stay away unless you force them and even then they might justly soil your shoes or alternatively sink their teeth or claws into your calves. I know what I am talking about, I have met Aunt Josephine's cat. I believe you were as yet fortunate enough to avoid this introduction, if not I apologise and commiserate with you.

  Again he stopped, aghast at his own frankness. But then he had to laugh.

  It was actually quite funny, so it was just as well. And at any rate, it was time to return to Longbourn. As it was, he was already in danger of running late. As if to emphasise the time, his stomach rumbled and so Darcy gathered his things together including the still snoring hedgehog and took off downhill at a running pace. If it were not too silly he would be quite tempted to do what he used to do as a boy, and stretch out on the ground to roll downhill. Though thinking about it, that would probably rumple his papers, not to speak of poor Prickler. No, now was not the time for that kind of nonsense. But one day, he would show this game to his children. Ha, at least then he had a good excuse for making a proper fool of himself! And he would not care one jot as long as it made his children and wife laugh.

  Darcy almost stumbled when he realised that he knew exactly whom he wished to be his children's mother. He really needed to get the better of his wayward emotions or he would be in trouble before long.

  Chapter 19

  He who opens a school door closes a prison.

  - Victor Hugo

  He did arrive on time, however, and leaving his new friend under a shrub with the rest of his apple that he had tucked into his pocket, Darcy went inside, washed his hands, and sat down.

  'You look cheerful, William,' Smith remarked warmly. 'Just look at you, you couldn't be a more handsome lad if you were a gentleman's son.'

  'He'd hardly sit with us if he were, Smithy,' John grinned and was promptly scolded for being so familiar with the cook.

  It was, however, in a good-natured way and produced many chuckles from the others.

  'So, what have you been doing with your time off? Not met with a girl I hope,' Peters inquired with twinkling eyes that made it clear that he was but joking.

  'I've been writing to my sister.'

  'Ha, and write he can as well!' Fanny exclaimed admiringly, then eagerly added: 'Can you show us?'

  Once more Darcy was taken aback. He had quite forgotten how unusual it was for a servant to be able to read and write, mainly because it was so normal on his own estate. Besides, he had been caught completely off guard when he had been asked by the gardener what he had been doing and not thought much about his answer before giving it.

  'If Mr Bennet does not object, I sure could,' was his thus carefully voiced answer.

  'Because then I could write to my parents and they'd be mightily impressed,' Fanny beamed and several others nodded.

  'Aye, but can they read?' Henry justly threw in, helping himself to some more potatoes and gravy.

  'No, but they could've someone read the letter to them,' the girl replied in a matter-of-fact.

  It was the usual custom, Darcy knew that much, though how anything of real importance could be conveyed in such a way, something that was not for everybody to know, was beyond him. Just thinking about his own letters to his friend and sister and imagining someone else to read those lines meant to be treated with confidence was mortifying.

  But all around him his comrades now discussed all the possibilities of what they could do if they could read or write. Even the upper servants were far from objecting to any such scheme and so the butler offered to ask Mr Bennet at the first opportunity that would arise. Darcy felt quite out of his depth, but alas, it was too late. All he could do was hope that Mr Bennet would not like the scheme and put an end to it. There was reason to believe he would, for if he had wanted to educate his staff, he surely would have taken care of it already, would he not?

  The said first opportunity, however, arrived much sooner than he would have hoped, and even before their meal was over. Mr Bennet had caught a slight cold, much to the worry of his wife, and had retreated to his library early in search for some peace and quiet and hence required the fire to be
stoked and some more wood to be brought up. Not five minutes later, Hill returned with a triumphant smile on his face.

  'Mr Bennet is all for it. Said it never crossed his mind before, but now that I've mentioned it, he thinks it a very good idea. So, William, you are to teach us how to read and write. In the evenings after dinner for a half-hour or so.'

  'Very well, Sir,' was all the astonished reply Darcy could muster.

  He really should have known better. An educated man himself, Mr Bennet would not be intimidated by servants who were so likewise, though on an obviously rather humble scale by comparison, and knowing the man's indolence, he should have also guessed that until now, not teaching his servants had been a mere oversight and not a purpose.

  'Ah, but I knew how it would be, for when Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were small they sometimes came down and taught us what they had just learned themselves. Do you remember Jenny?'

  Mrs Hill nodded and so did Smith.

  'You are, of course too young to remember,' the butler added, looking at the lower servants. 'But so it was. In short, Mr Bennet thinks it a very good thing.'

  Well, and Darcy could not help thinking that perhaps Mr Bennet had only agreed because he wanted to be left in peace. Their master quite liked his solitude by all accounts and suffering a cold, this sentiment was bound to increase.

  However, the whole group was so eager, that no sooner was the table cleared and everyone gathered around it again – with the exception of Mrs Hill who had gone up to serve the tea – and expectantly looked at him. He had to do something.

  How was he to go about it though? There was neither paper, aside from his own limited stack he needed for his letters, nor a blackboard or book in sight. But then an idea came to mind. With the help of a little dusting of flour, he spread onto the surface of the kitchen table and wrote “DOG”. It was a nice short word and as good, to begin with as any other and one could play with it as well.

  'Now, does anybody know what this might say?' he asked, cringing slightly, for he sounded much like his governess had done when first teaching him, and he had never much liked that woman.

  Smith, who sat back and at first had been indignant that her neatly polished table was thus abused, grinned and nodded approvingly.

  'This says “dog”. D-O-G.'

  Everybody repeated the word as well as the letters. Something both tragical, in a sense, and comical to watch grown people do.

  'Now if I turn the letters around and assemble them differently, what does it say then? Remember D-O-G.'

  Almost everybody repeated the letters, which again brought back some memories.

  'G.O.D. - God!' Leah cried out and promptly clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment.

  'Exactly,' Darcy smiled, making her blush even more furiously.

  He wiped the words away again and wrote “ODD”. This time it was Peter who figured it out.

  After “DO” and “GOOD” he finished the lesson, actually quite pleased with himself. And so seemed the others as well. But in the long-run, he would have to find some other means to teach. Flour was all nice and well, but eventually, they would get beyond one or two short words and then he needed something more practical and besides, they would need to learn how to copy the letters he showed them. But learning how to read simple words and letters was a good start and for the moment this would have to do.

  In the meanwhile, however, he would return to writing to Georgiana. Well, now he had at least something to tell her. He grinned walking over to his chamber and in doing so leaving the other folks behind as they still sat in the kitchen, singing now while doing the one or other needle work. Mainly darning stockings, fixing buttons or patching things up. Darcy was rather lucky that his own, though shabby, clothes did not require any repairs just yet, for truthfully he had not much of an idea what to do. And so he lit his candle, pulled out his letters and pencil and finished before going to bed.

  What a curious day!

  Chapter 20

  The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one.

  - Erma Bombeck

  'Ah, Lizzy, there you are,' her father smiled as he stepped out of his library.

  His nose was red but that was pretty much all that gave away that he suffered from a cold. Neither did his voice sound raspier as it normally did, nor did he appear feverish. But her mother was still in a flutter, bemoaning her fate as a prospective widow being thrown out into the hedgerows by the heir to Longbourn House. Some distant cousin they had never met in their lives due to an argument her father had had with his. What they had argued about had always aroused her curiosity, but as yet, she had not found it out.

  'Are you about to go out?' Mr Bennet inquired further.

  'Yes, I am, Papa. How are you this morning?'

  'According to your mother dying, according to myself quite well, I thank you,' he replied dryly. 'Lizzy, I have a request, could you have a look through your old school books and pick out a few?'

  'Of course, Papa.'

  This was a most puzzling request, to say the least.

  'Very good. Bring them into the kitchen, please.'

  'I will, of course, but why?'

  'So the servants can be taught how to read and write. It never occurred to me that they could not. Cannot everybody read and write?'

  'No, unfortunately not. Only very few, Papa. Will they require paper then as well?'

  'Yes, I would assume so. If you could find a couple of scraps, bring them down also.'

  'May I inquire how all this came about?'

  She did have an inkling.

  'Hill asked me last night whether I would object to the servants learning how to read and write. It appears our new gardener knows how to and when they found out about it, they were eager to learn from him. - Ah, and speaking of the devil, there he is, raking the driveway. What is that thing beside him?'

  'A hedgehog, Papa.'

  'Is it indeed? Well, then that is curious.'

  'It is. It has been following him around all day yesterday as well,' Elizabeth remarked carefully, though a small smile played around her lips.

  'So? Has that been the case? Even more curious.'

  As to this remark, Elizabeth was not so sure how to take it and her father's increasing scrutiny was slightly unsettling. Mr Bennet was an observant man, and his seeming disinterestedness had fooled many a person. If he did go out in society, there was very little that escaped him, no smile, no frown and most and for all no attachment.

  'Then off you go, Lizzy. Get away, before the rain comes and do not stay out for too long. Dark clouds are gathering and I would prefer you not being caught in the rain and catch a cold. It is enough that your mother will soon have to mourn me without the addition of your premature demise.'

  Elizabeth laughed and left, walking out of the house with a swift step. Said clouds were still some way off, but they did look ominous. She greeted William, she could hardly avoid that without appearing rude, smiled at the hedgehog and then took off, walking briskly towards Meryton to run an errand for her mother. She would have preferred to just ramble around, but Mrs Bennet had ordered some ribbons and lace the previous week; and though the shop could have sent them, in the danger of foul weather it posed a good enough excuse for her to leave the house without much fuss.

  The walk, though not of her choice, was a pleasant one nonetheless. And thinking about her father's request, she quickly decided to visit the library likewise to see whether she could find some suitable books and then went on to purchase a set of slates and some chalk. They were, after all but a penny each and would serve a good cause. Besides, they were more practical in the beginning than paper. She was quite ashamed of herself for not having thought of such a scheme herself and not sure whether she was vexed or pleased that now William had taken the matter in hand. Well, she did not know any of the particulars how this had come about, so she could not rightfully judge the matter anyway.

>   However, the least she could do now that she knew what she ought to have done, was to provide the material necessary to make it possible for him to teach his fellow servants properly. That was if he actually was a servant and that was still to be determined. How she would do so, still evaded her, but eventually, the opportunity would arise. It always did and most of the time when least expected.

  With that in mind, she finally led her steps towards the milliner's and picked up her mother's purchases, only to find that both Kitty and Lydia had placed orders likewise and not yet settled their account. Instead of passing on the notice, Elizabeth paid for her sisters. It would be easier this way. Both scatter-brained and gifted with the carelessness of youth, it was better this way. It did however, drain Elizabeth's funds after the other purchases she had made and her allowance was not due for another three weeks, so she would make sure that they both paid her back. That was if they had still any of their quarterly allowance left.