by Nicky Roth
'Right, is it just putting these things on?' she asked, holding up the milking unit, looking fairly comical with the one-legged milking stool tied around her waist so tightly that it would be of no use at all.
Talking about a stick up someone's arse this was presumably exactly how it would look like. Like Vlad, the Impaler had fucked up big time.
'On the udders, yes...' but before he could point out that the udder had to be cleaned first and that the stool would serve her better if it was slightly dangling underneath her bottom so she could it actually sit on it, it was too late.
'Sur.. - oops!'
She had sat down, or rather tried to and had managed to end up on the floor. Of course...
Yeah, that could happen to everybody, really, but it was perhaps not such a good idea to use one of the tails within her reach to pull herself up. No, actually, it was a very stupid idea.
Mooing loudly, the cow voiced its protest at such treatment and with a curt swoosh, hit her tail right into Mary's baffled looking face only to lift it straight away, in what Darcy was sure was a mocking manner, and did its business. At least Mary had the sense of closing her mouth and eyes as quickly as she could, which in her bewilderment wasn't all that quickly.
'Shit!' she gasped as soon as she had managed to get out of the danger zone, wiping her face.
She could not have put it more accurately, he presumed. Seriously, this had been one of the shittiest days in... - okay, after Monty and his band of misfits, him getting arrested last night, okay, this was the shittiest day in about ten hours. Day's apparently were getting shorter and shorter.
'I think you might want to wash your face,' Lydia pressed out between bouts of laughter.
To that, Darcy heartily agreed. Not so much because he cared for her cleanliness, but to have her out of the stables, before she would cause more mayhem. Udder mayhem, so to say.
'So, we're done for today,' Darcy, at last, declared wiping his hands on the back of his trousers.
'Thank goodness. Bloody hell that was exhausting!' Lydia grimaced, rubbing her back, though her winging had lost some of its intensity and actually she was grinning quite proudly.
'You've done well,' he praised her and was surprised at her reaction, for never in his life would he have thought that she would unabashedly give him a hug.
'Thank you!'
'What for?' he couldn't help wondering.
'For taking me seriously. No-one does, you know? I always get away with everything, just not with you - or Lizzy and Jane. But then again, mum always tells them they should let me be. I've always been the baby of the family. Its a bit like a curse I can't shake off.'
Baby... - Oh no, not again! Not down this road dear thoughts, it leads to nowhere.
“But George isn't her boyfriend...,” two voices whispered in his ear. At last one thing that Angie and little Lu could agree on. Shit, now it was official, he was going mad! He was hearing voices, he started to like Lydia Bennet, though only as a potential younger sister, and he thought about babies, or at least about practising to make them. He was fucking doomed!
Chapter 24:
'Will Ugust Tom'
Yeah, when ill one has to rest, sleep as much as possible, but alas, there is this one point, usually at an ungodly hour very early in the morning, when one's body decides that now it is time to wake up, all be damned.
In Elizabeth Bennet's case it was impossible to judge what time it was, since her curtains were drawn and her alarm clock, in order to make space for a tea tray had been moved over to the mantelpiece along with a lot of other clutter that had surprisingly found its way into her room over the past day - like her mum's handbag (she would certainly be looking for it all over the house a little later on...), two mugs of tea, a bath bomb, whatever it did in her room instead of the bath where it clearly belonged...- oh, yeah and the neatly folded baby body her mother had given her.
With a small sigh, Elizabeth contemplated whether it was worth getting up to use the loo at this point, or whether it was better to wait for another half-hour and rather read a little instead when she suddenly heard someone walk up the stairs and along the corridor.
Okay, walk was not exactly the right word, it was more like sneaking along the passage, once in a while stopping as if to listen if everybody was still asleep. Damn, that was creepy! Was it a burglar? Or had either Kitty or Lydia sneaked out at one point during the night and now made their secret return? Both options were a possibility if she were honest.
Right, better be safe than sorry...
Pushing her blankets aside, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and then sneaked over to the fireplace to arm herself with the poker before tip-toeing over to the door trying to open it as soundlessly as possible.
Sure, piece of cake... Not. Her door had always creaked, no matter how much WD-40 had been applied or how much she had tried to file away from the hinges that they simply fit better. All had been in vain. As a matter of fact, it sounded worse than ever. Figures!
Peeking around the door, all Elizabeth could see, was the shadow of a person just now entering the small coffee-kitchen her father had built into an unused linen closet when his eldest daughter had been on the way, to make it easier for his wife.
At the thought of her father, a smile crossed her face.
Now someone was rummaging around said kitchen, indicating that, after all, it had been no-one but either her mother or one of her sisters desperate for a cuppa. The only mystery was, why they had sneaked along the corridor so stealthily when normally they could not be loud enough? And what had they done downstairs? Why, if downstairs anyway, not use the kitchen there? Ah, well, why try to explain the unexplainable? It might be nothing more than getting some tea-bags or milk after all.
Since she was up now anyway, Elizabeth guessed, she could just as well dash across the corridor and take a wee before slipping back into bed.
Ha, a decision that had decided for itself!
Ouch, turning on the light would have been an idea, but why do so when the little toe was just as adept at finding one's way around in the darkness by infallibly bumping into every piece of furniture on the way?
At switching on the light in the bathroom, at first she squinted at the sudden brightness before hobbling over to the toilet. Her pinky toe sported quite a bit if she were honest and considering that the bathroom usually was a minefield of stuff like toppled over shampoo bottles, dirty towels and laundry baskets, being able to see was of the utmost importance. Sorry, little toe, no more work for you here.
Her pain soon subsided and when her eyes, at last, got used to the glare, Elizabeth's jaw dropped. Right, how could she have thought her mother had left it at one bloody baby body? There, on the old chest of drawers that held the fresh towels sat a packet of nappies, a stash of wet wipes, a teething ring, a baby towel, a rattle and three, three! bottles of baby shampoo. Presumably a buy two get one free offer, but seriously, this was ridiculous!
Oh, and the obligatory rubber ducky had found its way onto the rim of the bathtub, of course...
And all just because she had thrown up in front of her aunt. Once!
Bloody gossips! She wondered whether she was already secretly married without her own knowledge. Shit happened. So she could well be married to Mr Darcy.
Yeah, right... - Oops, was that a pig flying by just now? Again? It looked as if it would rain, seeing that the pigs flew so low lately.
Making her way back to her room to try and sleep a little more, Elizabeth was still deep in contemplation about what else her mother had bought for her non-existent grandchild, for she did not dare doubt, now that she had seen what she had bought already, that this was all, when she arrived there. Okay, it was not as if the way was all that long, and still, it was not something she should have to think about in the first place, was it?
So deep in thought was she, that she didn't see the person sitting on her bed in the darkness, which was only relieved slightly by the small night light in the co
rner.
'Ah, there you are, Lizzy,' a deep voice greeted her, a decided trace of sarcasm in it.
It was a very familiar but thoroughly unexpected voice.
'I thought I'd make us a cup of tea and we have a little chat before the rest of the house wakes up and mayhem will ensue. I have to admit that I already dread your mother's reaction...'
Well, mayhem most certainly would ensue, Elizabeth thought to herself, as yet unable to speak. And equally certain was, that her mother would go into hysterics.
'You are very quiet, Lizzy.'
'Sorry, Papa, but you are really the last person I expected to find sitting in my bedroom. How on earth did you get here?'
'I opened the door and stepped in.'
'Papa!'
'Right, I took a late train from Truro to London and from there hired a car,' Mr Bennet explained off-handedly, though the amusement in his voice was hard to ignore.
'But your back...'
'Never mind my back, Lizzy, it is much more important that you have some relief from your duties. It will not do to endanger the baby, will it?'
'What?'
With a thump, Elizabeth landed on the floor bottom first. Was there a single person on this planet her mother had not told about the baby? Presumably not. Fuck!
'Yes, Lizzy, your mother told me. I have to say, I was fairly surprised that you, th emost sensible of all of my daughters, were the one to get knocked up by some random guy. But we are all allowed our share of foolishness, I'd say. So, when am I to be a grandfather?'
There was no way telling whether Mr Bennet really believed in her being pregnant or not, after all, he knew his wife well enough to be aware that occasionally her imagination ran away with her. Oh, and that she had been eager to be a grandmother pretty much as soon as Jane had first started her period...
'Dad, I hate to disappoint you, but you are not going to be a grandfather. - Yet.'
'As far as I'm aware it takes nine months anyway,' he replied with a smirk that even in the darkness was hard to miss from the tone of his voice.
'I'm not pregnant and there is little chance of me becoming so any time soon if that is any consolation. I know mama thinks otherwise, but I assure you, there is nothing to this rumour. I am merely ill and that is all.'
'Hm, if that is the case it is still a good thing I came back home. But Lizzy, why do you sound so woeful when assuring me that you won't be having a baby anytime soon?'
Shit, she had completely forgotten just how perceptive her father was. Most of the time he seemed detached only to astound his family with his very accurate observations when they least expected them.
'I'm not woeful, dad. I am just annoyed that mum went around seemingly telling everybody who would stand still long enough to be told, that I'll give her her first grandchild. I mean, she's even started to buy baby-things straight away before even speaking to me, can you believe it?'
'Easily.'
'Cheers!'
Scrambling back to her feet, Elizabeth was about to turn on the lights when Mr Bennet stopped her: 'No, don't. You know, darkness makes a person speak more freely. Come, sit by me and have your tea before it gets too cold and then you can tell me all about how things are going.'
Handing her the cup, her father reached for her forehead and found that his favourite daughter was still slightly feverish.
'All is well, I think. Kitty and Lydia helped with the stables yesterday and Mary helped with the milking as far as I know.'
'Are you sure the stables are still standing?'
'They were not alone, of course, so yes, I am sure, though I would not be surprised if the one or other cow has been traumatised...'
Mr Bennet chuckled: 'Ah, I see you are already on the mend. Good! Actually, I already checked on the farm as soon as I arrived about an hour ago and everything seems to be in perfect order. You've done well, my child. I am very proud of you, and grateful.'
'Thank you, papa.'
'AH, never mind. But back to the question why you sound as if you actually regretted not being pregnant...'
'Dad, I'm not regretting that at all,' Elizabeth sighed adding in her mind: “But I would not mind it either if I had his baby.”
Damn, even in her thoughts she found it hard to admit that she was in at the deep end when it came to Mr Darcy. And bloody hell, she still called him that! “Mr Darcy”. Not Fitzwilliam, not Darcy, like Bingley did, no, it still was prim and proper “Mr Darcy”. And still, here she was thinking about having his child.
'Are you having trouble with your boyfriend? If so, let me tell you that a baby won't fix what is broken.'
That he partly spoke of his own situation was unmistakable and unsettling.
'I haven't got a boyfriend, so there is nothing I need to fix.'
'You know, sometimes you are too stubborn for your own good, my child,' was her father's puzzling response as he got up to leave. 'On occasion, you are almost blinded by it. But for now go back to sleep and rest a little more, I won't be returning to Cornwall and perhaps, in good time, I'll manage to motivate your younger sisters to help me so you can take some time off. Hm, thinking of it, I am quite surprised you managed to do so. Well that and that the farm has not been burnt down in the process.'
And with that, he was out of the room and had not his cup still stood on her bedside table Elizabeth would almost have thought that all of this just now, had been nothing but a dream.
'It wasn't me, who motivated Kitty and Lydia,' Elizabeth whispered to herself, thinking of her two youngest sisters beaming faces as they had bid her good-night last evening.
When Elizabeth woke up again, the whole house was in an uproar. Surprise!
In short, it was nothing but an ordinary morning. How her two youngest sisters could ever sleep in with all the racket that was made at this time of day was beyond her for even as she trudged down the stairs groggily she could hear her mother's raised voice and when she entered the kitchen she found Mary sitting at the table with milk spilt all over her as she had apparently tried to pour herself some with her nose, as always, buried in a book.
'Oops... - Sorry, mum.'
'Oh really, isn't it enough that Kitty and Lydia had to dash out of the house to let out the chickens before going to school? I don't know why Jane agreed of their coming along, really. And she still needs to pack... - And now you have to make a right mess! All this hectic so early on is grating on me and you know that very well!'
Okay, miracles happened. Who would have thought that her sisters would get up early to take care of the chickens? She could have sworn they were still in bed, but apparently, she had been wrong.
Getting up Mary managed to throw over her over-flowing glass of milk, now making a real mess as the white liquid dripped onto the floor.
'Mary!' Mrs Bennet screeched, as she was in the habit of doing whenever something was accidentally going wrong, and then, as was to be expected, pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a theatrical manner, exclaiming: 'Oh, my poor nerves! None of you has any idea what I suffer. None!'
'You are mistaken, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves since they have been my old friends these past, oh, shoot, are we really married that long? Twenty-five years,' an amused voice sounded up behind them, making them all startle.
'Papa?!'
All of his family present stared incredulously at Thomas Bennet, who, though a bit too rigid, stood and walked as if nothing had ever happened to him while his wife carried on complaining: 'No, you do not know what I suffer, Tom. You always take delight in vexing me!'
And then, suddenly she realised that her vexing husband actually stood in the middle of the doorway, grinning mischievously.
'I admit, I do. Not that it is much of a challenge, but it is amusing nonetheless.'
'Amusing? Amusing! - Now really! What are you doing here anyway?'
'I live here, my dear, have you forgotten?'
'No-no, that is not what I mean. I mean why are you back already?'
'Lover? Codswallop! Of course, he isn't'
'Where is he then?'
'Who?'
'Your lover?'
'Oh, Thomas! See, girls, that is exactly what I mean. Your father always teases me beyond sanity.'
'Now, that I can hardly do, my dear, for there have to be certain requirements to do so, you know?'
Tom Bennet, was such a mixture of sarcastic humour, quick wit, and caprice, that a quarter of a century of being married to him, and even longer since they had first met, had been insufficient to make Fanny Bennet understand her husband. Okay, that was not to say that he actually understood her, for truth be told, if one looked closely, he was just as clueless in regards to his wife as she was in regards to his character. A perfect example of a mismatched couple too lazy to file for a divorce.
On the other hand, however, they got along well enough and considering that they had five children together, must surely mean that there was some form of attraction between them.
'No, but really dad, how come you are back already? I thought you were supposed to stay in Cornwall for at least another four weeks,' Mary asked quietly after her mother had slumped down on a chair with affected weakness.
'Oh, nothing serious, I can assure you. Neither did I get thrown out, nor did the clinic burn down or the like, but I had a rather enlightening telephone-call from your mother, who seems to have forgotten all about it...'
He glanced up at Elizabeth with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eyes, the only acknowledgement he made that he had already spoken to her.
'So, when's the little one arriving?' he beamed at his wife as he carried on to make himself a cup of tea.
'Well...' she stuttered.
'What, is it already here? Oh, Lizzy, I have to see my grandchild! Is it a boy or a girl?'