by Nicky Roth
But speaking about dumb blondes, there was yet another problem to solve, for currently Lydia carelessly shovelled the manure over the partition and onto a bunch of befuddled looking pigs.
'What the fuck are you doing?'
'Cleaning this side of the sty, what else, idiot?'
Yeah, if she ever fell off a roof, she would have to ask for the way down in order to not get lost...
'May I just point out that if you shovel everything over there, you have to dig it out twice? I mean, why not put it into the frickin' wheelbarrow?'
Lydia just stared at him blankly. Good grief, shovelling pigshit could not be that difficult, could it? Okay, apparently it could.
'Right, let me point out the obvious, you now shovel about two thirds of the total amount of manure over to that side, so there will be three times as much shit over there by the time you have finished here than was before, meaning you have to shovel all of it again, increasing your workload by about sixty-seven percent, if you bring it up to full figure, that is,' Darcy sighed.
He really should consider a career as a maths teacher...
'If you can do it better, be my guest,' was her snappish reply.
'Nice try, but remember, I have a date with the mini-tractor. The cowshed awaits me.'
Walking out of the pigsty he wondered if it was really safe to leave Lydia on her own, but seriously, if she was too dumb to shovel shit from one place to another that was her own fucking problem.
Climbing onto the mini-tractor he set it back and then went to clean the stable and was done with it, just when Kitty returned from the chicken coop, a basket of eggs over her arm. He had seen her put the wheelbarrow as well as the pitchfork where it belonged and there was little need to check on her work for he was certain that she had done a decent enough job.
'I'm all done, Mr Darcy. What now?'
'I would say we go and eat something and then I have to go over to Netherfield as well to see if my horses are cared for and once I've taken care of that, I'll come back over and help with the milking.'
'You really like Lizzy, don't you?'
'I... - Well...' Darcy stammered, not knowing what to say.
It wasn't really that obvious, was it? Every decent neighbour would lend a hand in such a situation, wouldn't they? Sure enough back at home in Derbyshire they would. When one of his neighbours had broken his arm in an accident, he had taken care that his fields were ploughed and the crops planted and he had sent over one of his farm-hands to help his wife with the animals. All of this was perfectly normal.
He was relieved from answering, however, when Kitty asked: 'And what about Lydia?'
'Oh, once she's finished, she can follow us.'
'Well, fair enough...' Kitty shrugged and set off towards the house.
Darcy, on the other hand, could not help himself but check on Lydia.
Admittedly she had gotten a move on and the wheelbarrow was literally overflowing. Not that that bothered her in any way as she had started to shovel the manure onto the floor next to the wheelbarrow completely disregarding the fact, that it was blocking the one door through which she would get out of the pen as it was opening towards the outside. On the other hand, he had to give her that, she had managed to get the pigs to the other side of the sty and firmly secured the bar again so they would stay out of her way. Or perhaps one of the pigs had taken care of that to ensure that Lydia stayed firmly away from them, one couldn't be so sure. It was a strong possibility.
It was actually not that he thought her to be daft, but rather ignorant and idle which was actually worse. If you hadn't had a brain to use, that was fair enough, if you had one and simply chose not to use it, that was inexcusable.
Taking a bee-line via the chicken coop, he found he had been right in his assumptions. It was clean, fresh straw had been put in, water was filled up as was the feeder, in short, all was in perfect order. Kitty had every reason to be proud of herself, and she hadn't even whined once.
Darcy was halfway over to Longbourn House when he heard a distinct cry for help. Apparently Lydia had, at last, realised that she had trapped herself in the pig pen, but bloody hell, did she need to sound so very hysterical?
'HELP!!!!'
Bloody hell, he hoped she had not injured herself...
Running back to the stables he came to a panting halt, staring incredulously up at her ashen white face.
'Take it away, please!' Lydia begged, sounding like a scared child.
What the heck was she on about? There was nothing there.
'RAAAAAAAT!' she screeched, nodding towards one of the corners while holding onto the wooden beam.
Oops, yeah, admittedly, he wasn't very fond of these little rodents either. But how the deuce had Lydia managed to clamber up into the rafters? And so quickly?
'Take it away!' she almost cried and for the first time he actually felt sorry for her, spoilt brat or not, he would not have her scared.
Fear could be conquered, he knew that well, but it took time. He, for example, still didn't like large crowds very much, but seriously, what he felt nowadays was nothing in comparison to what he had felt when he had been a boy. Being sent away to Eton had been his version of hell on earth. The overcrowded refectory, in particular, had made him feel uneasy to an extent which made him feel physically sick and it had taken him weeks to adjust enough to be able to eat anything without losing his stomach contents straight away again. Well, at least his cousin Richard had taken care that no-one taunted him about it and eventually he had made some friends and suddenly everything had seemed much less daunting.
But as much as he would have liked to catch the nasty little bugger and take it away so Lydia could climb back down from her perch, he knew very well that there was little chance of it. They were fast and sneaky and thankfully fairly small, well able to hide behind this or that.
'Lydia, first of all, try to calm down. It won't do anything to you, I promise. Where there are animals, and animal feed, there will always be rats, I am afraid. I'll ask your sister if your father keeps a trap somewhere and then put it up if that is any consolation, but for now, you will have to come back down before you take a fall. Okay?'
'But what if it jumps at me?'
'Then I'll kick its butt. Or challenge it to a duel if you prefer.'
'Very funny,' she snapped, though the corners of her mouth started to twitch ever so slightly.
'Well, see it that way, Lydia, if I win, you are rid of the rat, if the rat wins you're rid of me. It's a win-win situation, really. So come now.'
'I don't know how...'
'Same way you got up there?'
'I am not sure how I did it, I just did.'
'Yeah well, I have been wondering. It's not all that high, so I think it'll be safe to jump. I mean, this pile of shit comes in quite handy, don't you think?'
He pointed at the large pile of dung in front of the door through which she would have had to pass otherwise.
'You can't be serious!'
'Why, isn't that what every girl wants? Come now, all that is at stake is that overly large ego of yours, and seriously, that can do with a bit deflating.'
With an exasperated sigh, Lydia clambered the few yards over to the dungheap and then, taking a deep breath, did actually jump landing buttocks first on the smelly pile.
'Well, it was soft...' Lydia mused, looking fairly surprised. 'But now I'm full of shit.'
Did he imagine it, or did she actually sound relieved? And even a tad grateful?
Reaching out his hand to help her up Darcy could not help remarking: 'Lydia, you've been full of shit even before you jumped right into a pile of it, so never mind. At least you can be certain that no-one will doubt that you have done what you were supposed to do. And may I point out, that you would have had to climb out the pen anyway since you blocked your exit?'
'Oops.'
'So, come now, let's have some tea and later on, as soon as I am back from Netherfield, I'll show you how to drive the mini-tractor
and you can finish your job, okay?'
'You just never give up, do you?'
'No. Did you really think I would let you off the hook?' he couldn't help asking.
'Not really, but it was worth a try. Mum always lets me get off, you know?'
Now, really? Who would have thought?
Chapter 22:
Daddy's little rascal
'Er, Lizzy, what are you doing?' Jane asked bewildered as her sister began stirring trying to scramble out of bed.
'Getting up, duh? Shit, what time is it?'
'Around four, why?'
With a relieved sigh Elizabeth sank back down onto her pillows.
'Good, then I have another hour or two before I need to get up and milk the cows.'
'No, it's been taken care of. Mum has insisted on Kitty and Lydia helping and...'
'What?' Elizabeth all but shouted, throwing aside her blanket. 'Then I need to go over asap before they bring the whole place down.'
'No, you don't, Lizzy,' for once in her life Jane sounded exasperated despite her kind, reassuring smile. 'Everything is all right and in perfect order. Kitty cleaned the chicken coop earlier and is currently mowing the lawn, Lydia, after cleaning the pigsty with a pitchfork, is now getting instructions on how to drive the mini-tractor for when she has to clean the stables the next time around and the cowshed has been done as well and Mary has volunteered to help with the milking as soon as she's done with her homework.'
'And on top of that you have... - Wait, you were here all the bloody time. Don't tell me mama is giving Lydia driving lessons on the tractor. Does she herself even know how to drive that thing?'
'Oh, mama has gone to the pharmacy and she said something about wanting to make you a chicken broth so she might be a while.'
Sure, especially since the pharmacy was only a stone's throw away from Mrs Philips...
Then another dreadful thought occurred to her and sitting up in bed once again Elizabeth breathlessly asked, obviously fearing the answer: 'Jane, please tell me it's not Charles showing Lydia how to drive the mini-tractor. I mean, I think he is a great guy and all, but...'
'But he should stay away from a tractor no matter the size. Lizzy, I might be in love with him, but I am not blind to a person's shortcomings, and as long as it is him driving a tractor, I think I can well live with that. No, he's away on business for the rest of the day, so calm down, it's not Charles showing her how to drive, or rather how not to, Mr Darcy does. He's been very kind, you know?'
OMG! Time to call Quentin's Funeral Home. There was a strong possibility that Mr Darcy had throttled Lydia by now, or her youngest sister had given him a heart attack or alternatively a stroke. Either way, it was very unlikely that both of them should come out of this alive, just who would be the survivor she could not possibly say, for they were fairly evenly matched.
'Lizzy, please stop panicking. I know you had to carry all of this burden on your shoulder for months on end, but at the moment you really need to rest. And only that!'
Well, Jane had a point. She needed to be back on her feet once Jane returned to London and Mr Darcy would not stay here forever either. Wait, didn't he want to leave today?
A knock on the door ripped her from her thoughts. Not that weariness had not been about to do so anyway. Bloody hell, how could one be so tired after having just woken up?
'Ah, you are up, my child!' Mrs Bennet chirped a tray in hand and a bag from the pharmacy dangling from her wrist.
She had obviously returned from her mission. Odd, Elizabeth had not expected her back before six, but then again, she hadn't had the foggiest when her mother had left to go to the pharmacy in the first place and perhaps their aunt had been out, which consequently would have cut her trip short.
'I thought you might be,' Mrs Bennet prattled on, busily putting down the tray on the chest of drawers by the window, the furthest possible spot for Elizabeth to reach it, 'and that you could do with a bit of food. And see whom I have brought with me? When this young man heard you were ill he immediately said how sorry he was and I thought, well, why should he not come and visit? Visits are always so beneficial to one's recovery, aren't they?'
No, they were not! And please, please, please don't let it be Penny!!! - No, thank goodness...
At first, she was relieved to see George Wickham step into the room, carrying a cheap looking bunch of red roses and then suddenly she felt annoyed. Very annoyed! Really, it was not that they knew each other that well. Not after one bloody chat in the pub and a short exchange of words last night again at the pub.
'How are you, sugar?'
How about: “About to throw up from all the sliminess?”
'Dandy, thank you. Just idling around a little, acting the drama queen,' Elizabeth replied archly, reaching for Jane's hand so her sister would not get the very stupid idea of leaving.
'It's a role that suits you well,' Wickham remarked, in what she assumed was to be a gallant way.
He did miss his mark by several inches, if not yards.
Bloody hell, did he really think that women fell for this crap? Okay, he had been pleasant enough to talk to, but seriously, suddenly his drawl was nothing but annoying, especially when her head was pounding so.
'If there is anything I can do for you my beauty,' he carried on, undeterred by her unnerved expression.
How about leave?
'Hm, let's see... - The stables need mucking out and...'
Ah, goody, his face fell. As nice as he was, there had been something about George Wickham that had seemed at odds with what he had said. It had been nothing but a hunch, but people could be too friendly and complying, couldn't they?
'...and the fence needs repairing, and then there is the...'
'That was not what I meant, actually...'
Of course, it was not. Surprise!
'I mean, I would willingly do so, but I am afraid that I have to report for duty in half an hour and I still need to get changed.'
Yeah, sure and that was just a pig flying past the window...
Asking people to shovel shit was apparently a good way of separating friend from foe.
Okay, that would mean she could consider Mr Darcy a friend unless he had some kind of weird fetish she didn't know about.
With a rather hectic gesture, the young lieutenant dumped the flowers on her bedside table, saluted shortly in a mock military style and then made a run for it.
Ah, the one thoroughly good thing that had happened today...
'You could have been nicer to him, you know?' her mother immediately started scolding her. 'Ask him to muck out the stables? Now really!'
'Well, you apparently don't object to Mr Darcy doing so. But honestly, you could have left George Wickham right where you found him, mum. Seriously, what did you bring him here for?'
'Well, first of all, it's a completely different thing asking Mr Darcy to help out on the farm and in regards to George, I spoke to him in the pub when I picked up Kitty and Lyddy last night and he seemed truly concerned for you, especially considering your delicate condition...'
Bloody hell, her mother managed to make it sound as if she were pregnant.
'And I thought since you were good friends, you would be happy to see him. He is quite handsome, don't you think? And so polite and well behaved, so very different than your Mr Darcy! The nerve of him to scold me so! But what have I to say? If you like him well enough, that's fine with me. So, at any rate, I think I have to forgive Mr Darcy whether I like it very much or not, considering everything. I am quite resolved that I shall not hold it against him.'
Ignoring the comment about Darcy being hers she replied tiredly: 'I thought you had already forgiven him?'
'Oh, I have, I suppose. I mean, after all, he was nice enough to offer his help, which he bloody well ought, leaving you like this. And I am not so ungracious as to not appreciate him for that. At least one thing he seems to do right then. But he has a tendency for rudeness that is not easy to overlook, I have to admit. Still, c
onsidering everything, I have to say, his protectiveness over you is perhaps not to be wondered at...'
Hm, actually, the more she knew of the man, the more she got the idea that he had a tendency for blunt honesty which she was beginning to feel quite refreshing.
But honestly, what was her mother on about, she seemed to speak in riddles. Protectiveness? Okay, yes, he had sounded protective, if she thought about it. Odd, actually.
'I spoke to Rosy about it, and she quite agrees that he should not have spoken so, but that he must have meant well.'
Ah, okay that explained a lot. A chat with aunt Rosy was always good to find out things about oneself one had not known before...
Okay, so she had been over to see Mrs Phillips after all. So back to, why was Mrs Bennet back already?
'But at any rate,' her mother added, 'your aunt wishes you all the best and is asking whether you need anything? I promised her not to say anything, but, ah well, my love, she said she would be quite willing to pay for the pram.'
'Okay, that's nice of her... - Wait, what? What pram? What would I need a bloody pram for?'
Had she not firmly lain in her bed, Elizabeth was sure she would have fallen out of it.
'Well, for the baby, of course! What a stupid question? Oh, I am so happy, I am going to be a grandmother...'
Okay, she was ill, and she had a temperature, surely she was hallucinating. It was the only reasonable explanation there was for her mother to say such things. The woman in front of her was nothing but a figment of her imagination and for some reason, she thought she was pregnant, though heck, by whom? Right, hallucination, remember? No need to argue with something as unreal as that.
Turning her head towards Jane she became faintly aware that Jane, too, stared at their mother in utter disbelief.