by A K Madison
“Yes, you will never wear it again when we leave off our mourning. Let me think on it for a few minutes. I believe it would be possible to cover it so that the warm material remains beneath but does not show. And we certainly have plenty of both the crepe and the bombazine.”
Elizabeth stood. “Remember that Mr. Bingley is coming for us in his carriage to take us to see Rose Cottage. Kitty, Lydia, if you want to walk about, be certain you are wearing boots. It is quite muddy and dirty there. I would also suggest your older, warm pelisses. We will not encounter anyone while we are there.” She turned to her mother. “Mama, do you still want to go?”
“Of course, I still want to go. And I am wearing my warmest boots already.”
Mary fled gratefully to her books, and Elizabeth went to the library. She extracted one of the notebooks and sharpened a pencil with the new penknife. She wrapped the extra pencils and notebooks in their original brown paper and took them upstairs, placing the sharp pencil, penknife, and notebook in a pocket of her gown. As she descended to the front hall, she could hear Charles’ carriage-wheels on the sweep.
Charles was brimming with news. “Darcy is bringing his head-gardener, Hobbs, as well as an under-gardener to see about the grounds. He meets today with a master builder, and this afternoon he will be meeting with his man of business to begin the process of recruiting a proper steward for Netherfield.”
“He certainly knows how to get things done,” sniffed Mrs. Bennet. “It is too bad he is so persistently disagreeable.”
“You will find him quite different when you get to know him, Mrs. Bennet.” The carriage turned off on the lane to the cottage. “Watch closely. The cottage will come into view shortly.”
Elizabeth’s mother and sisters fell silent as they saw the building. It looked forlorn and forbidding silhouetted against the backdrop of barren woods and gray sky. “My, my.” Mrs. Bennet sounded breathy. “It certainly does need a great deal of work. But the brickwork is handsome. And I see they have made a beginning on the roof! Are those canvas cloths covering up holes?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Charles. “I feel certain that the master-builder will give orders that the roof work be undertaken first—except, perhaps, for the chimneys, which will be carefully checked. Would you care to see the ground floor?”
“I believe so.” Charles got out of the carriage and helped the ladies down. He indicated a pathway of planks he had ordered to be placed from the lane to the front door and gave Mrs. Bennet his arm as they proceeded up the rough walkway. He unlocked the front door and helped each lady up the step and over the threshold.
“This is one of the larger parlors,” he said to Mrs. Bennet as she entered the room. “There is another this size that could well serve as the dining-room.” He indicated a door on the opposite side of the small center hallway.
Mrs. Bennet looked around her. “There is a great deal of work to be done indoors as well, is there not? Her hand went to some of the wainscoting and elegant moldings, dusty and sagging, that ornamented the walls. “However, this mill-work resembles that of the manor-house. Do you not think so, Lizzy?”
“I agree, Mama. For example, take note of this fireplace. While the mantel is wood as opposed to marble, the carving is very elegant under all that grime, as is the paneling just above.”
“We can manage a little grime, child. It really does present quite an elegant appearance, and just what would be wanted in a charming cottage. But these floors are dreadful!”
“They are to be repaired, Mrs. Bennet. I am certain that will be one of the last projects in the renovation. And do not forget, Jane has found the carpets for these rooms.”
Elizabeth jotted notes from time to time, mostly about what her mother liked. When they had seen all four of the main rooms, Bingley ushered them to the door. “Would you like to tour the garden area, Mrs. Bennet?” Bingley indicated the bench beneath the elm tree.
“I think not, Mr. Bingley. It is just a little too dirty for me after all this rain. Will you walk with me along the lane so that I may view the rose bushes at least from that angle? They are quite overgrown, and they will require attention.”
Bingley escorted her up the lane as Elizabeth followed, taking notes. “Many of these are simply old briar roses. I can tell by the shape of the thorns,” said Mrs. Bennet. “With the others, it will be impossible to tell until the spring is further advanced.” She paused, considering. “They may appear to have been planted indiscriminately, but I believe that someone chose and placed them for effect. It will be interesting to hear what Mr. Darcy’s man has to say.”
Elizabeth would later confess herself amazed. While she was accustomed to hearing her mother assert herself on subjects about which she clearly knew nothing, and while Mrs. Bennet was comfortable in her own sphere of socializing, meals, and home life, Elizabeth had seldom heard her discuss any topic with such expertise and genuine authority.
Charles conducted the ladies home, and when they had eaten their luncheon, Lydia asked Elizabeth to retrieve the rust-colored bonnet. The entire family settled into the parlor, and Lydia, assisted by Kitty, got out chalk and pins and began to measure and mark.
Mrs. Bennet came to sit at the table with her younger daughters and watch the bonnet makeover. “You are so clever, Lydia! Perhaps you shall open a stylish milliner’s shop in Town, and Kitty shall be your assistant. Then our fortunes would be made!”
“No, thank you, Mama. I am happy to do this for Lizzy, but I intend to marry an officer and make merry all my days. I shall have dresses from the finest modistes, and all my bonnets are to be made for me.”
“And perhaps you shall, child. Perhaps you shall.”
Elizabeth turned to her next-oldest sister. “How was your morning, Mary?”
“Peaceful. Quiet. I got a great deal accomplished. I hope to see the cottage soon, but it was pleasant to be alone among my books this morning.”
The peaceful afternoon enabled Elizabeth to reply to Charlotte’s letter as well as to attend to several notes of thanks and acknowledgment. The chatter of her mother and the girls was noisy, but not unpleasant, and the sounds of Mary’s music practice were muted by the closed doors. She was surprised when dinner was announced.
Dinner was occupied by Lydia’s barrage of questions about what colors they could wear for half-mourning when the time arrived. She and Kitty seemed pleased by the ideas of white with black trim, or soft lavender. They reacted less well to gray until Mrs. Bennet pointed out that a light dove-gray could be very fashionable. “I suppose so,” sighed Lydia. “Particularly with a black lace trimming the neckline.”
“Child, you know perfectly well that young, unmarried ladies do not wear black lace. I have never permitted you to wear it, and you will not wear it while you remain unmarried.”
Lydia threw her napkin down in disgust. “And what are we to do? How are we to attract the officers when we must go about looking like crows? It is so unfair!”
“You will not be attracting any officers while your father is not yet cold in his grave,” sniffed her mother.
Lydia scoffed and stood up. “Please excuse me. I have quite lost my appetite. Lizzy, your bonnet will be ready by bedtime.”
“Thank you, Lydia.”
“Black lace, indeed,” sniffed Mrs. Bennet.
When dinner was over, Elizabeth sat with the others and looked through her pages of notes, adding a revision or two as she thought of them. She resolved that she would do this each day. Almost as an afterthought, she added the date at the top of the first page. At the end of the notes she scribbled a line about the weather and added, “A good day.” Then she turned to the next fresh page and wrote the next day’s date on the first line.
“What is that you are scribbling, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet gave her an inquiring look.
“Mr. Darcy has sent me a dozen blank notebooks. He heard me observe that there is a great deal to remember about the work on the cottage. They arrived this morning from a stationer’s in London
.” The silver penknife would remain a secret for now.
“Well, it is a bit unusual,” replied her mother. “But as long as they are of little value, I suppose the gift is not inappropriate.”
Elizabeth was tired as she sought her bed that night, and she sat for a long time brushing out her hair. Mrs. Hill had brought in the warming-pan, and the bed was warm, comfortable, and so welcoming. She was asleep almost immediately.
✽✽✽
She stood at the edge of a forest, conscious of the fact that she was barefoot and that her hair was down. They caught sight of each other in the same moment. He stood on an inviting little forest path that wound away into the trees. She was acutely aware that he was bareheaded and in his shirtsleeves, dressed as informally as she was. A breeze was lifting his hair, and she was filled with a longing to touch it, to touch him. He smiled and held out his arms, and she felt the need to be held by him as a physical ache. She could feel herself trembling as she began to hurry toward him. With a palpable shock, she realized that there was a barrier of some sort between them—transparent, invisible, but nonetheless insurmountable. She placed her hands on it. He approached from his side and placed his hands against hers, but she could not feel them. His lips moved, but she could not hear him speak.
✽✽✽
Elizabeth woke to another gray dawn, disturbed by the feeling of the bedclothes twisted uncomfortably beneath her. The remnants of her dream had stayed with her, and she felt sad and somehow guilty. She had never been in a man’s arms before, and she had no idea that what she had felt in her dream was awakening desire. She also felt unaccountably sad over the terrible barrier that had separated her from Fitzwilliam Darcy.
She got up quickly, as she usually did, and was washed, dressed, and downstairs before Susan came up. Today was Saturday. She might see him today. The chill was biting, and she was glad of her warm, new bonnet. She walked down the drive, and when she got to the lane, she broke into a run. But she could not outrun the tangled feelings that had been brought on by her dream.
Chapter 9
Darcy’s large travelling-coach rumbled up the drive to Netherfield at eleven o’clock, and by half-past one the workmen had finished their dinner. At two o’clock, Darcy, Bingley, and the four men made the short walk to Rose Cottage. Their purpose was to get some general idea of the dimensions of the cottage and the extent of the work required. The men busied themselves for almost three hours in the late-winter sunlight. Hobbs and Moore conferred and went together to report to Darcy and Bingley.
Moore, referring to his notes, was cautiously optimistic, focusing his concern on the roof, chimneys, floors, and plaster repairs. “The building is in sound shape. I estimate this work could be completed within one month, more or less, depending on the weather. That assumes that those employed are skilled at their trades.”
Hobbs was also optimistic, although his report was of necessity somewhat vague. He concurred with Mrs. Bennet’s assessment of climbers and ramblers and advanced an approach that would leave a few of the best shoots on each bush. “I should like to install a small arbor there at the gap with a wicket-gate to be added after the repairs to the cottage are well in hand. Workers, tradesmen, and deliveries should be required to use the areas where there are no shrubs to enter and leave the site.”
When Hobbs and Moore had completed their reports, the men walked back to the house in the gathering darkness.
Jane’s appearance, when she greeted her husband and Darcy, caused both men to smile. She was dressed in an old and hastily dyed black gown, her blonde hair covered by a plain mobcap that clearly showed smudges of dust and dirt. She was enveloped in a large white pinafore, also none too clean. A most engaging smudge of dust decorated her left cheek. She wiped her hands on the pinafore before coming forward.
“Mr. Darcy, I have come to regard you as a member of the family, so I shall not apologize for my appearance. I trust you will forgive me for it, as I have been on a great adventure. Your regular rooms are ready for you, sir.”.
Darcy took her offered hand in both of his and smiled down. “Your appearance is always perfect, Mrs. Bingley, and I am honored that you consider me a member of your family. I expect you will want to relate the particulars of your adventure, and we will be interested to hear them.”
Jane accepted a kiss from her husband and said, “Let me go upstairs for just a moment, and I will join you in my small sitting room. Please order a tea tray.” She ran lightly up the stairs. She joined them shortly, more properly attired, and they could tell she was big with news.
“You had better tell us, my angel, before you spontaneously combust,” said Bingley.
“I took another little tour around the attics this afternoon, this time in the company of a footman. I have uncovered a great many treasures for Rose Cottage. They have been stored for years, judging from the dust.”
“What sorts of treasures, Jane?”
“I found barrels of porcelain, crystal, flatware, and plate, all well packed in straw with the silver pieces in velvet bags. There is all manner of furniture—chairs, settees, sofas, small tables, and the like, all under holland covers and needing nothing more than a good beating and polishing. There are bedsteads, wardrobes, bureaus, and other furniture for bedchambers, wanting only new linens and mattresses. A beautiful dining-room table, chairs, and sideboard. I am surprised at the beauty and quality of the items. They do not appear to predate my own parents’ marriage by too many years. Everything is simple and elegant. I would say it is timeless.”
The group parted to dress for dinner, and when they were at table, Jane took up her story again. “I shall continue searching through the attic space where I have found all these things. I should like to show them to my mother. Knowing her, she may decide that she would prefer some of them to her own things, most of which were bought new at the time of my parents’ marriage.” Jane laid down her knife and fork for a moment. “Besides, as much as I love Charlotte Lucas, I do not entirely trust Mr. Collins.”
Bingley smiled and shook his head. “We all know you believe the best of everyone. In fact, I should say you believe in believing the best.”
“Thank you, my dear. I should like to continue along that path. But it does no one any good if I am stupid about it.”
✽✽✽
“My new bonnet is wonderful, Lydia.” The Bennet ladies were enjoying their early Sunday breakfast, and Elizabeth wish to be sure Lydia received her due recognition. “It is toasty-warm and fashionable in the bargain. In fact, I intend to wear it to church this morning.” She had also made certain she had a farthing in her reticule, for it was almost certain she would encounter Mr. Darcy at the service.
“Remember, girls, we are invited to Sunday dinner by Jane and Charles. Be sure to look your best. I suppose that disagreeable Mr. Darcy will be there, but I am inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Indeed, they did encounter Mr. Darcy, together with the Bingleys, sitting in a pew not far from their own. He had a clear, strong baritone voice which he used to good advantage during the closing psalm. Elizabeth, who enjoyed employing her own voice, felt unaccountably shy and sang more quietly than usual. Still, both of their voices could be heard, pleasantly rising over the mumbled efforts of most of the congregation.
The families were delayed outside the church by many neighbors who wished to inquire about the Bennets. Elizabeth stood aside, and Darcy soon made his way through the crowds to join her. “Miss Bennet. I hope you are well this morning.” Darcy bowed with his usual grave manner.
“Quite well, thank you.” Elizabeth dropped a curtsy, willing herself not to blush. “I must thank you for the notebooks. They arrived the day after you left.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the one she had begun writing in, opening it to that day’s page. “As you can see, I have already begun to put the first one to good use. I find it helpful to begin each day’s notes with the day and date.”
Darcy gave her one of his melting smiles. “
I am delighted you are finding them useful. You have many responsibilities now.”
Elizabeth decided to risk smiling back. “I was amazed at how quickly I became accustomed to writing down small memoranda.” She opened her reticule and extracted the farthing she had placed there earlier. “And this is in payment for the knife. It really is lovely, and it rides along in my pocket in case I break my pencil.”
He smiled again, this time showing his dimple. She was surprised to see him place the farthing in his watch-pocket as opposed to some other pocket where he might keep small change. He bowed, still smiling. “Thank you. We shall consider that as payment in full. Now, it looks as though our party is ready to leave. Permit me to conduct you to the carriage.” In another astonishing move, he offered her his arm, and they walked together to the Bingley carriage.
Dinner was the usual midday Sunday feast of cold meats. It was enlivened by Darcy’s report on the preliminary findings of the workmen he had brought in the day before.
“I must say, Mr. Darcy, that my daughters and I are very grateful to you,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You are doing a great deal towards seeing us settled in our new home. I have seen the cottage, and I believe it will be comfortable and commodious for the five of us. And so convenient to Jane and Charles.” She smiled at Darcy, who nodded gravely. Elizabeth looked at Jane. Neither of them had ever heard their mother speak to Darcy with such civility.
“We must set a time for you to speak with my head-gardener, Hobbs,” said Darcy. “He has seen the garden and has formed some opinions. He is eager to get started with the pruning and has brought an assistant with him.”
“Oh, yes. The pruning should be undertaken very soon, Mr. Darcy. Otherwise we will be unable to do it until next year, and the plants will have another year to become wild and unruly.”
“My ignorance of roses is boundless, but Hobbs has an idea for leaving several vigorous shoots on each bush which he says will do them good no matter what variety they may be.”