The Cumberland Plateau

by Mary K. Baxley

  “Yes, I know what the name means. I’ve read about it, but it’s never been more than an historical event to me. I’m very interested in English history, and this is the first time I’ve actually known someone who can trace their family history as far back as the Middle Ages. So please continue.”

  Darcy picked up another small stone and tossed it in the air, catching it with one hand as he began. He explained the acts of treason committed within the English courts and the subsequent consequences, and how family members betrayed one another. His family had been decimated at the Battle of Towton in 1461, leaving only two surviving brothers, Thomas the heir and Richard, the younger. Eventually they were divided through treachery, with Thomas killing his brother when Richard betrayed him, and finally how all of his line, except one, Thomas’s youngest son, George Darcy, had died at the Battle of Bosworth Fields several years later. Darcy explained the political intrigue and how the various houses had vied for power. They talked for nearly an hour.

  “Oh, William, that’s terrible! What did they do? How did they survive?”

  “Yes, it was…it was very horrible. Blood should never betray blood.” Darcy shook his head. “George learned a very hard lesson, and as a result, he had become shrewd. He was offered the title of Earl of Derby in 1485 but refused. He preferred to remain part of the landed gentry. There’d been too much bloodshed, and I suppose he was leery, though he never stayed completely outside of things. He eventually married Mary of Wiltshire and had two sons. It was through the Wiltshire alliance that he recouped our losses, and eventually his sons and grandsons became ministers in the courts of King Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I. It was in the Queen’s court that my ancestor, George Darcy’s grandson, William Darcy, met and fell in love with Elizabeth of Salisbury.”

  “Did they continue at court, or did they leave? And did things improve?”

  Darcy nodded as he picked up another pebble and tossed it. “Yes, I would say things did improve. They married and retired to Pemberley in Derbyshire, and through that alliance, our estate grew and prospered into one of the wealthiest in the kingdom. And like your family,” he said with a wide smile, “each consecutive generation has added to both the house and the improvement of the property. We had numerous tenants and farmed it for many years. We still have horses, and there are some sheep and cattle, but we don’t really work the land anymore. Pemberley, like Longbourn is to you, is very dear to me. It’s my home, and I’m to inherit it someday, although my brother and sister will have a lifetime right to live there. There’s a lot more to the story which is contained in the many volumes of our family journals, but essentially, my ancestral grandfather took what he inherited and built an empire.”

  “Your family has had a violent past, hasn’t it? I have no records that far back, so I don’t know if we were involved. Does the violence of your forbearers disturb you?”

  “Not in the least.” He released his legs and stretched. “There comes a time when a man has to take a stand. The secret is knowing when to fight and when not. Besides, I’m a medieval type of guy, and I understand my family’s history perfectly.”

  “Well, William,” she said as she arched her back, “I’m captivated by your family’s history. Next time, I want to hear about The Hundred Years’ War and what your family did during the English Civil War.”

  “Ah, yes, the Hundred Years’ War and the British Civil Wars, or Wars of the Three Kingdoms as it’s now called. My family was especially involved in the latter, and there is a great deal written about it. Our family’s role in the conflict is recorded in the annals of our family history by my ancestor, Henry Darcy.” Darcy chuckled softly as glanced across the pasture. “Henry was a well-connected barrister in London. He and a friend, Sir John Gell, raised an army in his local district for the defense of Derbyshire and Staffordshire against the Royalists—the supporters of King Charles I.”

  “Your family sided with the Parliamentarians,” Elizabeth said with a gentle smile.

  “Yes,” Darcy nodded. “Henry declared himself to be a Parliamentarian, but I think in his heart, Henry was really a Royalist. Our family had always been devoted to the king, and I know he was torn by divided loyalties. On the one hand, as a member of the landed gentry, he identified with those opposed to the king, and yet, as he rode with Oliver Cromwell on various campaigns, he was appalled by Oliver’s cruelty. Henry was also disgusted by the outcome of the war and the subsequent trial and execution of Charles I. When asked, he refused to have any part in it.”

  “From what I’ve read, Cromwell was no better than the king, was he?”

  “No, in fact, he was worse. Oliver Cromwell declared himself the Lord Protector of England in 1649, and, until his death in 1658, he made life miserable, especially for the Irish. He was excessively brutal to them and made it his task to bring them under control. He sent an army there, and despite promising those who surrendered to him that he would treat them well, he slaughtered all who surrender to his forces, using terror to bring them under his control. The Irish people hated him. He sent their children to the West Indies to work as slaves in the sugar plantations. He knew many would die out there, but his reasoning was that dead children could not grow up to make more Irish Catholics, and I suppose he was successful in that regard.”

  “That’s horrible. I never knew this to that detail. Did he really do all of that?”

  “Elizabeth, he did all that I’ve told you and more, and all in the name of God. The man was insane. He even banned mincemeat pie.”

  “Mincemeat pie? Why?”

  Darcy laughed and shook his head. “Oliver Cromwell and the Puritans detested Christmas as a pagan holiday—one that promoted gluttony, drunkenness, and debauchery, therefore on December 22, 1657, Cromwell and his Puritan Council banned it altogether. Christmas decorations such as holly and ivy were forbidden, and soldiers were ordered to roam the streets and if necessary, take by force food being cooked for Christmas festivities. The smell of a goose cooking could condemn you. And Cromwell considered pies especially to be a sinful, forbidden pleasure, thus mincemeat pie was banned. That was but one example of his insanity, which eventually led to the return of the king. The people hated him. They had had enough, and thusly when Charles II ascended the throne in 1660, he restored Christmas.”

  Darcy sighed and glanced at Elizabeth. “My ancestor felt the atrocities that occurred were something that must be remembered, and so he chronicled the events of that time period in absorbingly meticulous detail: the political and religious intrigues and upheavals, the alliances and confrontations, the betrayals and acts of loyalties, and the triumphs and tragedies of the era are all documented. To kill a king is a travesty,” Darcy whispered.

  “Yes, yes, it is. Your family’s history is truly fascinating. I’d like to read those journals someday.”

  “Well, someday I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.” He flashed a wicked grin, giving her a teasing wink.

  She laughed, shaking her head at the double entendre. “Show and tell, eh?”

  “Perhaps, but seriously, I would like to see them.”

  “Sure, we can do that, if you really want to.”

  His brow furrowed. He tossed another pebble into the pool as he slowly contemplated Elizabeth tale of her history. Finally, he asked, “Elizabeth, you said your family originated from an estate in Hertfordshire. Do you happen to know what became of Edward Bennet?”

  “No, I don’t think we ever did hear. The connection was severed several years after we came to America. Why do you ask?”

  “Because the first Fitzwilliam Darcy married an Elizabeth Bennet from Longbourn in Hertfordshire, and I think there’s a possible connection. Perhaps a distant cousin of yours married an ancestral grandfather of mine, making her my ancestral grandmother.”

  “I suppose it’s possible. My family is from Hertfordshire. If it is, it would be a strange coincidence.” Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she whispered, “Hmm…you said
the first. Who else is called by that name?”

  “I am. That’s my full name, Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy.”

  “Fitzwilliam…” her lips curled softly. “I like how that sounds…different and distinguished! I think I’ll call you Fitzwilliam if you don’t mind.”

  “If you like, you may. My family, as well as some of my friends, calls me by that name. But many call me William. However, since I do have a first cousin by that given name, it does get confusing sometimes.”

  “Then I shall call you Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Now, Fitzwilliam, come with me. I want to show you the cabin.”

  Elizabeth stood up and stretched and then offered Darcy her hand, beckoning him to follow her. She led him around the pool and up a rise to the cabin and, with a little bit of effort, entered the slab door.

  “This is it,” she said. “Kat cleaned it last when she and I and Jane stayed here this past summer, but it needs to be re-done. Anyway, this room was the main living area.”

  As they stood in the center of the cabin, Darcy noted a large bed up against the wall and a sofa made from saplings covered with cushions.

  Moving through the room, Elizabeth directed his attention to a large bench-style table. “This was the kitchen table which was used for more than eating. It was the family gathering place.” Pointing to a rack over the bed, she said, “The gun hung there for easy access in case there was trouble in the night, and that large fireplace was for heating and some cooking. It has a hook for a stew kettle.” She stepped towards another door and opened it. “In this room is another bed, but I’m not sure why it was that way. Perhaps it was a guest room because over there,” she pointed, “the ladder leads to the loft where the children slept, and through this breezeway is the kitchen. It was separate from the house because in summer, it was unbearably hot.”

  “Even though it appears rustic and quaint, I see that it can still be a fully functional place to live,” Darcy said, inspecting each space and piece of furniture carefully.

  “Yes, I always thought it was romantic, too. I used to pretend to be a pioneer like Laura Ingalls when I was little.”

  At that, Darcy laughed. “Come here, you little minx,” he said, gathering her into his embrace. As they kissed, his thoughts wandered to how nice it would be to spend a night here with her and how much he wanted to make her his wife. She quickened him in a way he had forgotten existed, kindling a fire he’d long since thought extinguished. The warmth of her kiss and the feel of her soft body against his stirred his blood. He whispered softly against her lips, “Elizabeth Bennett, someday…I’m going to marry you.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself…aren’t you?” she murmured, catching his lips once more as she tightened her arms around his neck and relaxed against his body. He invoked feelings in her she had no idea even existed. …We hardly know each other…but I can’t help myself…I want him…I need him.

  “Yes, Elizabeth, I am…I’m very sure. What do you feel?” he asked as he trailed kisses down her neck.

  She tilted her head. “I hardly know,” she whispered as she felt her conscious thoughts fading into oblivion. Just as she was about to completely let go, the wind blew a low- hanging branch against the windowpane. Abruptly, reality struck. Elizabeth shuddered as she broke their embrace. With a slight smile, she said, “I think we need to return before they send out a search party. It’ll be dark soon.”

  “As you wish. I’m at your command,” he said softly as he stepped aside and took a deep breath.

  Elizabeth gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then pulled him through the cabin door, shutting it firmly behind them. They mounted their horses and rode off at a full gallop, jumping fences as they went until finally entering the barnyard. After the horses were put away, they walked towards the house where Aunt Lori greeted them, “It’s almost supper time, Lizzy. Come in and wash up, you two. Charles and Jane have just arrived; we’ll be eating shortly.”

  ~*~

  The meal was excellent. Charles and Darcy thanked the ladies and declared themselves full, unable to eat any dessert, which was a pity because both could tell it was very good. As they left the table, Uncle Henry invited the gentlemen to the library for some Evan Williams.

  While the men went to enjoy their bourbon and Jane sat and talked with Lori and Grace, Elizabeth slipped outside to the porch swing to sit and think as the sounds of the night echoed through the darkness.

  …Fitzwilliam is very confident in himself. I don’t know what to make of him. I strongly believe, by the things he keeps saying and by the way he acts, that he loves me. He told me as much in the cabin. He wants to marry me, but what do I want? Is this love? I do feel something for him, but I’m not sure it’s enough to make a marriage. A marriage is more than passion… isn’t it?

  When I marry, I want it to last. I have to keep my wits about me. How do I know his love is true? I can’t make a decision based on feelings and emotions alone. I have to be able to trust him. I have to use logic!

  “Elizabeth?”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft, familiar voice.

  “Hmm…yes.”

  “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  “Oh, just thinking… and enjoying the night sounds. Do you hear them—the whippoorwill, the barn owl, the crickets, the call of the coyote? And, if you listen closely, you can hear the cry of a bobcat off in the distance.”

  “Yes, it is rather peaceful. Do you mind if I join you?”

  “No, come right ahead. You can even share my blanket if you’re cold.” She patted the seat next to her.

  “That’s all right. I have a jacket,” he said, taking a seat on the swing, resting his arm over the back of it. For a few minutes, they said nothing as they swung gently back and forth, listening to the night sounds. Finally, he asked, “Elizabeth, what were you thinking about?”

  “Oh, just things …things about us …you and me. The things we discussed earlier and how I feel about them.”

  “And how do you feel about those things we’ve talked about?” he asked softly.

  “I’m not sure, really. That’s what I’m trying to decide. I’ll try to be open and honest with you. When you told me that you want to marry me someday,” she hesitated for a moment, “I mean, you did say that. I was thinking and wondering why?” She dropped her gaze momentarily before glancing in his direction. “This seems awfully sudden to me. How can you talk about marriage so quickly? I have to wonder what you’re basing your feelings on. Do you really love me or is this just lust?” she asked. “I think you know me well enough to know that I have no intention of giving myself to someone only to discover it was wrong,” she said with conviction. “Fitzwilliam, when I marry, I want it to last forever. I want a love and affection rooted in respect and trust. Passion is wonderful, but when the fires burn low, what’s left? Now, don’t misunderstand me. I like you very much, but—”

  He cut her off before she could continue. “Elizabeth, I think I understand what you’re telling me. These are deep thoughts indeed. Let me try to explain as best I can. First, although it may seem so, this is not sudden for me. I was attracted to you when I first saw you as far back as the last week in July. That was when Charles and I came to inspect the university and surrounding area.” He paused, looking out into the night with a slight smile, as if reflecting on that day.

  Turning to face her, he caught her eyes. “That day, we were standing by a window on the second story of Morton Hall. Charles saw Jane first, and I think his attraction was formed at that very moment. He pointed her out, remarking to Dickens and me something about the beautiful women in this place, but when I looked out the window, my eyes were drawn to you, not Jane. You were wearing your faded blue jeans with the torn knee and a white tee shirt, and your hair was caught back in a low ponytail. It was so strikingly beautiful, hanging down your back almost to your knees. I remember thinking you looked like my mental picture of Lúthien Tinuviel. But then, thinking you were a student, I dismissed you alm
ost immediately from my mind.” Hesitating for a moment, he looked her directly in the eye. “Elizabeth, I didn’t know who you were then, but your image was indelibly imprinted on my mind. I thought of you many times even before I had the opportunity to meet you,” he said. “It was a whole month later before I learned who you really were. And I must confess that I secretly watched you on campus until one day I finally decided that I had to meet you. Elizabeth, it was no accident that I was in the coffee shop that day because I knew you came there at that time each day.” He took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

  “I never realized you had seen me back in July. That must have been the day I arrived in Walnut Grove. And you had been watching me?” She smiled.

  “Yes, Elizabeth, I was watching, and the more I watched, the more I was drawn to you. You were so lovely, and I suppose it was infatuation at that point. However, it was when we began to talk that I realized you are not only beautiful, but intelligent as well. I already desired you, but as I have gotten to know you better, I have fallen in love with you. The more we talked, the more I realized how much we are alike and how many things we have in common. I admired your independent spirit. You do as you like with no thought as to please or conform to others. I believe you are a confident individual. Elizabeth, I have never met anyone quite like you. I not only admire you, but I’m very much in love with who you are!”

  Feeling encouraged, he took her small hand in his and caressed it gently as he gazed intently into her fine eyes. “So you see, it’s not so sudden for me. You’ve been in my thoughts for some time, though I didn’t intend to reveal my feelings to you so soon. I didn’t realize that you were not as experienced in the world as most people your age are, but I should have suspected it from your demeanor. Anyway, it came out, and I’m not sorry for it. My feelings are genuine and real, and I’m not ashamed of them,” he said. “I believe you do feel something for me. I can sense it when we kiss and the way you embrace me. Could you love me, Elizabeth?”