One Autumn with Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  “Well, come on, girl.” He stuck out his hand to help her up, and she meekly placed hers in his. His grip was strong, and he launched her to her feet.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. He was entirely unremarkable yet she felt as though she had met him before.

  “I said, are you hurt?”

  “No, that is, I do not believe so.”

  His lips twitched as though he desired to laugh at her. Unconsciously, her hands smoothed her skirt and then went to adjust her hat, only to realise that it was no longer on her head.

  “I will retrieve your hat,” he said gruffly.

  Jane was confused by his mixture of gallantry and seeming indifference.

  He brought it back right away, and she tied the blue ribbons under her chin.

  “Thank you,” she began but he startled.

  “Eyes the blue of forget-me-nots under a midsummer sky,” he said.

  She furrowed her brow. The words seemed familiar. She must have read them in one of Elizabeth’s poetry or botany books.

  “Jane Bennet, all grown up,” he remarked in something like awe.

  “I do not believe we are acquainted, sir.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, I would assume the passage of eight years would erase all memory of me. I am Isaiah Burton.”

  Growing embarrassed as she could not recall him, she spoke hastily. “Mr. Burton, I am obliged to you. I apologise for delaying you. Good day.” She turned to leave.

  “You still do not recall me, do you?” He followed after her.

  Bristling that this stranger would think she should recall him, she stuck her chin out. “As you say, if we have met, you acknowledge it has been many, many years. I simply cannot recall every gentleman of questionable breeding I meet with.”

  “With as many admirers you must have had, I am unsurprised. There was a time, however, when you visited your uncle in town when you did not find my breeding and manners so repulsive. Tell me, is that why you are still unwed? You did not correct me on your name, so I can only assume you are still single.” His voice sounded a mixture of offence and humour.

  She turned to face him and in her seldom-felt anger felt more like Elizabeth than herself. “Because I am three and twenty I must be foolish to not have flung myself on any of the stupid ninnies I have met with? Oh yes, marriage to any of them would have been a delight over my present state. For certainly being in the care of healthy and doting parents and living with my three younger sisters, must be very pitiable. Or do you presume marriage is the only tolerable position for a young lady? As you are so interested in my own state, I assume you are also unwed yourself. Now, why has not a lucky lady ensnared you, Mr. Burton? For surely your manner recommends yourself to all.”

  Having said her piece she turned to leave again. Her heart beat fast. She had never said something so unforgiving in her life. And she desired to flee before he had a moment to react. But was that...laughter? He was laughing at her!

  “You have changed quite a bit, I see. The girl I knew was much too docile to have even a shred of the spunk for such a speech, even if you looked about as fearsome as a kitten. I shall have to amend my poem. You are no longer as mild as a lamb.”

  Her steps ceased as she recalled his words. Isaiah Burton was the man who wrote her very bad poetry when she was but fifteen. Her aunt and mother were certain he would offer for her, but he never declared himself before leaving for a business trip and before he returned she departed again for Longbourn. When she returned to London the following year she had not seen him, but was not so affected by him to even ask her uncle what happened to his business friend.

  “Ah, so my words did leave an imprint.” He said upon reaching her side.

  My, was he smug! “Perhaps no girl could forget such lamentable poetry. But your triumph is premature, for it is you who seems to have not forgot me.”

  For the first time in her life, she fluttered her eyelashes like her youngest sister. He only laughed at her.

  “That was a very good attempt but I can tell you have not used such tricks and artifice much since we last met. ‘Tis a shame too, for few men could resist such impertinent words on a beautiful face.”

  She heaved a sigh. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Burton, I find this walk has exhausted me.”

  His face softened. “I did not mean to plague you, Miss Bennet. Please, you were enjoying your walk. The fault is mine, forgive me. I will leave you be for your solitary thoughts.”

  This was closer to the gentleman she recalled. One who made her feel as though she were his sole interest in the world.

  “No, it is I who must beg forgiveness. I have been out of sorts lately. Your company is not obtrusive.”

  “Well,” he said as he offered his arm, “I would be pleased to escort you home. Now, you mentioned only three younger sisters; I do hope no tragedy befell one. Although I do recall you mentioning one named Lizzy who was especially keen on borrowing your hair ribbons.”

  Jane smiled. “Oh heavens! I can hardly recall such times. You will be pleased to know that sisters can manage to become friends, even the dearest friends of all. It is Elizabeth who is no longer at home; she married in June.”

  She could see he did not know how to reply. Strangely, she realised she did not mind the delicate treatment from him. “I understand you are confused on how to reply. Lizzy is blissfully happy in Derbyshire, and I am happy for her.”

  “Of course you are. You always had the most generous heart.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Despite my earlier words about unmarried females having many options in life, there is little to say over how I have spent my last years. Surely with your business you have more to report.”

  “You do not wish to regale me with all the new stitches you have learned, the books you have read or the tables you have painted?”

  She laughed. “I fear I am rather unaccomplished even after all these years! I still have no ability for music. I never seem to have the interesting observations of books like Lizzy does. With four younger sisters to add to the tables and fire screens in the house, I ceased such tasks early. I must sound obscenely silly and spoilt, devoid of any depth.”

  “No, you are refreshingly honest. But you must occupy your time somehow.”

  “I enjoy riding. Now that Lizzy is married I sit with my father a lot and seem to be the source of my mother’s nerves.”

  “And before your sister married?”

  They had reached the lane to Longbourn. “Here is home. Thank you for the escort.” She furrowed her brows. “I never asked how you came to be here.”

  “My sister and brother-in-law have leased a home in this neighbourhood. I have come for a visit.”

  “Oh, then we will see you at the Rutledges’ some time.”

  “Indeed.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Very soon, I hope, Miss Bennet.”

  She blushed intensely before he released her hand. “Good day, Mr. Burton.”

  “Good day,” he said before walking on.

  Jane walked down the lane to her house, her emotions in tumult. It was only then that she recalled she never finished Elizabeth’s letter. Perhaps she would reply positively to going to London after all.

  *****

  When Jane announced to her family that she had met Mrs. Rutledge’s brother, and he was already acquainted with her, she thought her mother would be pleased to have such early gossip. Upon remembering him as the young man who failed to offer for her eldest daughter in her first year out—which would have been quite the maternal triumph—she found him of no interest at all. Kitty and Lydia had not entirely recovered from their adoration of men in red coats, though Jane had hopes perhaps by Christmas the militia regiment which was quartered in Meryton could be forgot. Happy with the attentions of Mr. Griffin, Mary had no interest in Mr. Burton. So it was that a fortnight passed before Jane met with him again. Entering Netherfield with the knowledge that not only had Charles Bingley never loved her, b
ut he was most likely dead, had been difficult for her in the past. Why it felt even more so on this occasion, she chose not to examine. Instead, she found solace in the fact that her mother had ceased her exclamations of joy that a new gentleman was in the area. Indeed, she bemoaned the fact that she could not decline the dinner invitation.

  After dinner, when the men returned to the drawing room, Jane sat on a settee near the fire. She attempted to ignore the memories of a year past. The others engaged in lively conversation. Her mother’s behaviour had not altered, but no longer were they met with sly looks of superiority. Mrs. Rutledge was as amiable as the master of Netherfield before her had been. Her husband could rival only Sir William Lucas in terms of geniality. She knew she ought to draw comfort in the fact that her family was accepted as equals, but somehow it all felt so rote and stifling.

  “You are very quiet this evening, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Burton said as he approached her side.

  “I fear I have a slight headache.” Her ache was lower, in her heart, but he need not know.

  “I hope you do not take ill. I had expected to meet with you again earlier.”

  “I apologise, my mother has had many engagements in the past fortnight.”

  “And you no longer walk the lanes?”

  Jane smiled a little. “No, I am not much given to walks.”

  “I recall you saying you enjoyed riding. Perhaps we could form a party some morning, and you might show me some of the best paths.”

  This gained a true smile from Jane. “I would like that.” She had not ridden in many weeks. Now it seemed silly to deprive herself of one of the few comforts she had.

  “It is decided, then. I will make all the arrangements and will call upon you when it is settled.”

  Although she knew he did not mean to call on her for romantic reasons, her stomach flipped. She had never had a gentleman declare something so plainly. “You must tell me more about your mount for me to ensure the best path.”

  A discussion on the temperaments of horses and their correlation to their masters then followed. Before bed Jane was surprised to admit to herself, she had never been so well entertained in the room before, even by Mr. Bingley.

  A few days later she sat in the back drawing room with her sisters and mother, trimming a hat, when the housekeeper announced a caller for Miss Bennet.

  “A caller! Jane, you have been so sly! Who is your admirer? Mr. Goulding is to inherit a nice fortune, and I know he has eyed you for the last two years at least. Well, make haste. Kitty you go along.”

  “Mrs. Hill, who is the gentleman?” Jane asked while her mother pushed her through the door.

  “A Mr. Burton, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Burton! Well, what can he need Jane for? Kitty, you stay here. I will accompany Jane. The nerve of him to call without seeing all of us!”

  Jane closed her eyes in mortification, knowing Mr. Burton could likely hear her mother as she ranted down the hallway.

  Entering the room, Mrs. Bennet turned all sweetness. “Mr. Burton, so nice to see you again! How are Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge?”

  “They are quite well.”

  “How nice of you to call on Jane. It was lucky for you that her other suitors have yet to arrive this morning.”

  Jane tried not to blush as Mr. Burton’s face darkened.

  “Well, I came to settle the points of a riding excursion Miss Bennet and I had planned. My brother and sister would like to join. I made mention of the plan with a few gentlemen the other evening, and I know the Misses Long also plan on coming. Do any of your sisters ride?”

  “They do not, but we will have a merry party. Do you think it will be too cold for a picnic?” Jane felt her spirits lifting.

  “Picnic! No, it is far too cold. You have such a delicate constitution, my dear. Indeed, I hate to even hear of you riding. We shall have refreshments back here, of course,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted.

  “Well, then it is all settled,” Mr. Burton said tightly.

  He did not stay much longer; Mrs. Bennet made easy conversation impossible, and Jane actually saw him go with regret. Surely it was only because she enjoyed the variance he added to their company.

  The riding party was planned for three days hence.

  “Why are you wearing your new ribbons, Jane?” Kitty asked as she came in Jane’s bedchamber unbidden.

  “Oh? Are they? I simply picked the first ones I saw.”

  “A waste of such pretty ribbons, if you ask me. They will have to sit under your hat.”

  “Of course,” Jane agreed and Kitty stated her request to borrow a green pair of ribbons.

  She would barely admit to herself that she dressed with more care than usual and picked these ribbons for they matched her clear blue eyes; or as Mr. Burton called them blue as a midsummer sky. Perhaps her hat would fall off again, or when she removed it while they took refreshments, he would complement her again. She was not vain, she told herself. It was not as though she wished for the compliments of everyone. He simply had more natural taste and a pleasant way of stating it.

  She called out her farewell to her family, leaving before Mrs. Bennet could say a thing. She would meet the party on the path between Netherfield and Longbourn. When she arrived, however, she found Mr. Burton alone.

  “Have the others fallen ill?” She asked with evident concern.

  He looked nearly bashful with his reply. “I told you to meet us an hour earlier. I thought you would enjoy a carefree ride.”

  “I ought to say no; it would not be proper.”

  “Do you always do everything that is proper?”

  She did, of course, but did not like the challenge in his tone. “No, I would be quite unbearable if it were so.” She had never thought that but more than once she heard a jealous remark that it was unbearable she could be so perfect. She felt far from perfect.

  “Then you will enjoy catching up with me,” he called over his shoulder as he started off.

  He was talented, there was no doubt, but Jane had been allowed to indulge her love and soon caught up with him. She was inexperienced with racing but could tell he allowed her to win in the end.

  “How dishonourable of you, sir, to throw the race!” she exclaimed between laughs.

  “No, it is the mark of a true gentleman to allow the lady to win.”

  Jane laughed again. “I cannot recall the last time I laughed so much!”

  “Nor I. It must have been before Sophie died.”

  Jane could not place the name but then recalled that he was a widower. “Your wife. I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. It was nearly four years ago. It gets easier with time.”

  “Does it really?” she blurted out before she could think again.

  He gave her a penetrating look. “You will think ill of me, but I have heard the gossip. I cannot say for you, but for me the pain is eased by the pleasant memories we shared. I try to remember those instead.”

  “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “It is Lizzy’s favourite saying.”

  “It is a good one. I hope you will give yourself leave to remember the happy times, then.”

  “I shall try.”

  “No, you will succeed. You are made of much firmer stuff then you would allow most to believe.”

  “But you think you see it?”

  “I always did. How many ladies would take care to notice the small and fragile blooms of forget-me-nots when there are lush rose bushes or orange water to distill?” He gave her a small smile, “Now, we need to return to meet the rest of our party.”

  “Of course.” She followed him as they talked of the autumn scenery. For the first time in a year, she allowed herself to think of Charles Bingley with a modicum of contentment. He was a time in her life, an experience. It was over, but the beauty of it not forgotten. It was only time for the leaves of that period to fall away. A new season was beginning.

  *****


  “Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth called out as she entered Pemberley’s library.

  “Yes, darling?” Darcy replied from his chair by the fire.

  She approached his side and gave him a quick kiss. “I fear for Jane.”

  “She has promised to come to London with us.”

  “Yes, but her correspondence is taking longer. I worry Mother is being harsh on her.”

  “What does your mother say?”

  “That we must rescue Jane from an unworthy suitor.”

  “What makes him unworthy?”

  “He paid her attention years ago, and nothing came of it, but truthfully I think Mamma is upset that he comes from trade.”

  “Bingley’s fortune comes from trade and presumably the gentleman was worthy when he first paid attention to Jane.”

  “That is not the same to Mamma; besides, she wishes for better now. She thinks Jane will make a splendid match due to your connections.”

  “Our connections, my dear,” he corrected as he pulled her onto his lap. “Do you think Jane encourages his attentions?”

  “I thought you believed her incapable of such.”

  “When I was an idiotic fool I did.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “We were both fools.”

  “Now, I think that if a Bennet lady is determined to gain a certain husband nothing will stop her.”

  “You make it sound as if I threw myself at you.”

  Beginning to nibble on her ear, he replied, “I would have dearly enjoyed that.”

  Elizabeth pushed him away. “Behave. We must be serious.”

  Darcy groaned a little. “So do you wish to retrieve Jane before Christmas?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes brightened, “Could we?” Then her face fell. “No, it is too much to journey back and forth and you wished to spend Christmas here.”

  “We shall invite your whole family here. We do not plan to go to London until nearly February. Jane will have a welcome respite from your mother before we go to town. She can make her wishes known about any matches then.”

  “Truly? My entire family here? It will not be too much for you?”