In Search of Happiness

by Nicky Roth

  While it still did not appear to be the complete truth, he had the feeling that he had gotten somewhat closer to what was troubling her. Did he dare hope that perhaps she was not speaking of Prickler at all, but of herself?

  'And there I quite disagree, Miss Elizabeth. Just look at Brutus here, he would happily go with you and leave me behind if only you let him,' he smiled.

  '”Et tu Brute?”, indeed, if he did,' Elizabeth laughed half-heartedly while neatly folding his handkerchief again after dabbing her eyes somewhat sheepishly yet not giving it back.

  'Well, he got his name by mere chance. When I first got him he was but a tiny haggard pup that could hardly be persuaded to even eat. In short, he was a very dull creature and you seem to know your Latin well enough to know what the name Brutus translates to in English.'

  'The dull one...' she gasped. 'What a pitiable creature he must have been to receive such a name and justly so it seems.'

  'He was,' Darcy replied thoughtfully thinking back to that fateful day he had found his dear friend injured and run over in the gutter of a busy thoroughfare close to his home, before turning cheerful again: 'Though thankfully the name is apt no longer. But as it is, it stuck, just as we are stuck with our parent's whims when naming us.'

  'Very true, Mr Darcy. Though I would say, either of us has gotten away lightly when our parents gave us our names,' she smiled back shyly.

  'Yes, we did indeed, Miss Elizabeth. Shall I bring you home? We could pay Prickler a visit.'

  He held out his arm and she tentatively took it. Yes, perhaps he should return to Netherfield and break his fast, but on the other hand, that could very well wait and he was not particularly hungry in any event. Not anymore. And while he had to ride over to Longbourn again later in the day to return the horse, every moment in her company was a moment in time he cherished beyond anything.

  Chapter 52

  Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

  - Desmond-Tutu

  The dinner had been oh so nice and she had enjoyed it immensely, but oddly enough, when Elizabeth had finally lain in her bed, she had felt rather sorry for herself.

  Mr Darcy was all she had ever admired in a man. He was courteous, polite, intelligent, had a good sense of humour, and was extremely handsome for good measure. Not exactly in the fashionable, dashing way, but rather in a timeless sense. Indeed, he was still the William she had come to love, only the gentleman version of him. Still as amiable as ever, kind, attentive, and helpful. She could easily come up with several other positive adjectives for Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy Esquire but what was the point of it? He might be here right now, but he would leave again to go so very far away as Derbyshire. As it was, to her he could just as well be a world away.

  Yes, she had tried to take Jane's advice, and follow her heart but what it had led to was that now it was bleeding. And yes, she was well aware that she was again being silly. She had been silly falling in love with their gardener and she was silly now, being in love with a gentleman of, according to Miss Bingley, and in that regard she had little reason to doubt that haughty woman, so much consequence and wealth as Mr Darcy. With a rather self-ironic smile she had thought to herself that she would have had a better chance winning over the Prince Regent had she happened to fall in love with him, but...

  In the end, Elizabeth had barely slept and when the sun had risen behind the horizon, she had gotten up and sneaked out of the house to seek comfort in nature. While crossing the park she had looked out for Prickler, but he was nowhere to be seen. Over the last few days he had retreated more and more barely peeking out his nose and only once in a while could she see him ramble around towards one particular corner, hiding behind a thorny hedge where she could not follow.

  As tempting as it was, she carefully avoided the one place she always associated with him, with William - the very stile she had first encountered him and which inevitably had brought him into her life. Stupid girl, to have ever recommended he should ask for work at her own father's estate! It had been thoughtless.

  When she realised that subconsciously her steps had led her in the direction of Netherfield, she stilled and with some desperation sank onto yet another stile to rest a little before turning back home. But as the birds sang in the trees behind her and the sun rose ever so much higher, tears started to escape her eyes, slowly making their way down her cheeks until they dripped from her chin. Not for long, however. Not that she was not still troubled, but enough was enough and perhaps it was better to think of other things.

  With some determination thus, Elizabeth willed her thoughts towards her surroundings, the warmth of the sun, the birds in the trees, the bees, butterflies, flowers, everything that was so beautiful around her. That was when suddenly she was interrupted by the appearance of a rather cheeky looking dog of indeterminable breed, one ear floppy the other standing half-attention, wagging his tail in friendly anticipation.

  'And who are you? Have you gotten lost?' she asked softly, reaching out her hand to scratch him behind his ears, much to the dog's delight, apparently.

  Cheeky creature indeed. She had never seen him around here and yet, looking closer, he appeared to be well cared for and was definitely well behaved. Or as well behaved as such an impish creature could be. Almost immediately her mood lifted even more and suddenly a familiar voice greeted her.

  'Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. How are you?' Mr Darcy addressed her, a leash in his hands that clearly indicated that none other that he was the dog's master.

  Why, oh why, did she have to blush? But after her initial surprised outcry, she finally managed to give a stammered answer that she was well. His scrutinising stare spoke volumes. He did not believe her.

  'It is just... - I do not know. It is just that... - I feel so sorry for poor little Prickler. He is still looking for you, you know? And I am but a poor substitute for your company,' she added after a few moments, hoping he would not dig any deeper.

  He did not, thankfully, though his eyes held some concern and instead he began talking about his dog instead until he gallantly offered to accompany her home and pay Prickler a little visit. Until now it had not really occurred to her that he might just as dearly miss his little friend as it did him. But by all appearances he did. Taking his offered arm they walked along in silence, easily falling into step with one another. After all, what need was there to speak just for the sake of it when one felt so comfortable in another person's presence that every word uttered would have been nothing but noise?

  Again Prickler was nowhere to be seen and not even Mr Darcy's soft calls seemed to be able to make him peek out his nose from any of the shrubs. There was little use denying it, the man looked positively worried about his little friend and so was she.

  'He has been hiding a lot these past few days,' she tried to offer some comfort.

  'Well, he is a wild animal and it was surprising enough that he followed me around anyway. He will be fine, I am sure,' Darcy replied, though with some unmistakable disappointment in his voice. 'And as it is, I will have to return to Netherfield unless I want to miss breakfast. Besides, I would not want for Bingley to worry about where I have disappeared to, though perhaps the fact that Brutus is gone as well might give him a hint. I will come back later at a more appropriate hour to return your father's horse, will I see you then? Perhaps we could go for another walk?'

  He wanted to see her again? Wanted to walk with her again? It was as if the sun had risen all over again and since Elizabeth was quite unable to speak, she merely nodded while her face lit up in a hopeful smile.

  Chapter 53

  It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.

  - William Shakespeare

  It was already past noon when finally, both he and Bingley were on their way to Longbourn. It had been quite vexing that Bingley had some business to attend to all morning, but to go without his friend would have been rather impolite. Yet, while Darcy had been busy himself in London, the few
hours until their departure to see their friends, and two young ladies, in particular, had stretched on endlessly.

  But now, at long last, they were on their way and after what seemed to be ages, the little village came into view and with it Longbourn House. Approaching from this perspective and at this time of year, it was barely discernible behind the hedges and walls and the many ancient trees surrounding it, not even on horseback, and while he had walked the path towards Meryton many times before, Darcy had not really taken notice of just how much the old house belonged exactly where it was. Unlike so many modern estates, it was rather a part of the village even while it was also meant to dominate it. A perfect allegory for the family living there.

  In the recesses of the garden he could see Peters cut some flowers, his back turned towards them, and Tom dutifully dashed towards them to take their horses, smiling broadly, though seemingly not quite sure how to address his former workfellow. Well, admittedly, neither did Darcy, but a grin and an awkward shrug later and the two of them were laughing cheerfully while Bingley stood by, looking slightly bemused.

  'Somewhat odd, ain't it?' Tom at last blurted out before bowing bashfully.

  'It is indeed,' he could not but agree. 'I admit the situation is very odd.'

  Next, to him, Bingley unsuccessfully suppressed a chuckle and Tom's face sported a decided grin.

  'Ah well, I’ll take care of the horses then,' the lad stated simply, reaching for the reins, and with that he was off, whistling a cheerful tune, carefully leading the animals over to the stables.

  Well, had he had any doubt before, now Darcy knew that he was no longer one of them. And while they did not hold his deception against him, there never again would be the same familiarity that once had been. The only hope Darcy had was that someone had thought about continuing the lessons. He would have to inquire about it. The same awkwardness reappeared when Hill opened the door. Again, it became blatantly obvious that he was no longer one of them. It was odd, and not necessarily in a good sense. Who on earth had decided, once upon a time, who was to be the servant and who the master? It was nothing but a matter of chance. He had been lucky to have been born into consequence and wealth and that was really the only distinction if he thought about it.

  Mrs Bennet, her oldest as well as her two youngest daughters were sitting in the parlour, the former two occupied with some embroidery and the latter two with dressing up their bonnets, pinning ribbons and silk flowers in some abundance onto them. In the room next door, someone was playing the pianoforte, and Darcy was almost certain that it was Miss Mary, which begged the question as to where Elizabeth was.

  'Oh, Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, what a pleasant surprise,' they were greeted cheerfully by the lady of the house, quickly rising from her seat as did Jane Bennet.

  Miss Bennet, in turn, smiled serenely and gave a small curtsy her eyes lighting up the moment she saw his friend. As quiet and guarded as she was, her demureness could easily be mistaken for indifference were it not for the slight colour rising to her cheeks and the barely perceptible nervousness. Yes, she would do very well for Bingley.

  'I have just said to Jane, that we should organise an afternoon party sometime next week,' Mrs Bennet prattled on. 'The Gouldings have returned from London only the other day and the Lucases held a dinner last week, but then again, there is always something to do in the country, is it not? We for our part are very lucky, indeed, to have such an extended circle of friends. One would not think the country to be so very busy, but we dine with four and twenty families.'

  'Now that indeed is very lucky,' Bingley remarked sincerely. 'It is just the right amount of people to socialise with. Not too many and not too few. In short, it sounds pretty much perfect to me.'

  That perhaps Bingley was flattering Mrs Bennet just a little bit, did not mean he was not in complete earnest. Bingley was happy wherever he went anyway, whether it be five hundred families to dine with or two.

  'Oh, I knew you would think so!' Mrs Bennet cried out happily. 'I knew you would like it here in Hertfordshire, and indeed, who could not like it here?'

  “Indeed, who could not?” Darcy thought to himself. He certainly did. The only place he preferred to this serene place was Pemberley, but then again, there was nothing like home, was there?

  While Bingley and their hostess merrily chatted on, Darcy stepped towards the window and at last his question was answered for there, on a bench sheltered by a little trellis that in some weeks would be covered by roses, Elizabeth sat reading, once in a while looking up expectantly before turning yet another page. Again he could have watched her for hours. It was truly a sight he would never tire of and it was not that it mattered whether she was sitting on a stile, outside in the garden, or on a settee. Not as long as he could be close to her. The only thing he would prefer to being able to look at her was holding her in his arms and close to his heart.

  It was as if his stare had drawn her attention as she suddenly looked up and straight into his eyes and his breath caught. However, this close to magical moment was interrupted by her mother, who suddenly seemed to remember that she had not yet offered her guests any refreshments. While he initially was a little vexed at this interruption of his pleasant reverie, or rather disappointed, the fact that she called for Elizabeth to come in and join them, certainly made up more than enough for her interruption. Not that Mrs Bennet had taken any notice of what had been going on. No, it had been done quite unconsciously.

  While the lady of the house was all courtesy and smiles with Mr Bingley, she, just as her servants, did not seem to quite know how to behave towards him and consequently, Mrs Bennet rarely addressed him. But again, that mattered little as once again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Elizabeth Bennet ended up beside him at the table. And that did matter very much.

  Chapter 54

  I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

  - John Keats

  It had been Bingley who had suggested to take a short walk and while the two youngest had little inclination to ramble around the countryside and rather strolled towards Lucas Lodge to pay a visit to Maria Lucas, the younger sister of Miss Elizabeth's friend, and Miss Mary had insisted that she still had many things to do, Jane, was now happily walking beside Mr Bingley and Darcy beside Elizabeth. However, again he had the feeling as if something weighed her down as they meandered around the park he had tended only the week before knowing it as well as his own back home, if not better.

  'It is a beautiful day, is it not?' he asked when the prolonged silence between them, at last, started to be a little unsettling after a quarter of an hour or so.

  It was perhaps not the wittiest start to a conversation, but it was better than saying nothing at all and besides, it was warm and sunny the air full of the sweet perfume of the many blossoming apple trees they were passing, and bees were humming here and there as busy as they could be.

  'Yes, very lovely,' she replied with a tentative smile. 'So much so, that I just could not stay indoors any longer and with my younger sisters' constant chatter, I took refuge out of doors. - I did not notice your arrival.'

  They slowly carried on walking even though Jane and Mr Bingley seemed to have decided that half a turn around the garden was more than sufficient for them and that the same little bench Elizabeth had sat on earlier on was more to their taste than ambling about.

  'So your book was an interesting one?' he inquired with curiosity, wondering what she had been reading.

  'At least to an extent,' Elizabeth replied vaguely, puzzling Darcy.

  'And what have you been reading?' he dug deeper.

  'Cowper. Not exactly my favourite author,' she admitted laughingly, 'but Charlotte recommended it to me and I thought I had better indulge her by making my way through the volume regardless.'

  He, too, laughed softly and suddenly and much surprised at his own boldness, reached for her dainty little hand resting on his arm, their steps, out of their ow
n volition, leading to the one spot where they had first met. They were already half-way there when he finally took any notice that they had left the park.

  'Well, I have to say, I prefer other authors as well, but depending on my mood, occasionally I quite like to read Cowper.'

  'But is that not always the case?' she asked thoughtfully. 'I mean, there are times when we prefer a cheerful tune and others when it would downright annoy us. I would assume it is the same with books, is it not?'

  'Very true. And what is your favourite song, Miss Elizabeth?'

  'I could not possibly say, for as we have just established, it greatly depends on one's mood. When I am in the mood for dancing, I like the “Barley Mow”, while it grates on my nerves at other times and when I am in the mood for contemplation, Beethoven's “Moonlight Sonata” seems a good choice. So what is your favourite, Mr Darcy?'