The Golden Apples of the Sun

by Ivy May Stuart

  Darcy scratched his head tiredly. “I’m afraid that I sank all my ships with her this afternoon, Fitz. She won’t have me now.”

  “What in heaven’s name did you say?”

  “I implied that she was allowing the vicar of her village to court her because she was a desperate old maid and also that, in his reluctance to have her, he was putting her to work first to see if she would be a suitable wife before he actually proposed.”

  “What!” Richard exploded into laughter. “And just how are we going to fix this, Your Majesty?”

  “We are going to do nothing. Keep your nose out of it.”

  Still laughing helplessly, Fitzwilliam sank into a chair.

  “I’m glad that I amuse you,” said Darcy, trying to sound dignified but only succeeding in sounding incredibly sad.

  “You and your temper have been a source of so much entertainment over the years,” said his cousin shaking his head. “But this is priceless! Pity I’ve left the army - I could have dined out for months on it.”

  “Well, I suppose that I should thank my lucky stars that you have left; otherwise, by now the whole of London would know what a fool I am. But if that’s all you have to say…”

  Looking at his cousin’s tortured expression, Richard stopped laughing and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. Clasping his hands together, he pursed his lips against his forefingers and gazed thoughtfully at the man.

  “Right! So we must accept that you are deep in the suds. What to do? What to do?”

  “There is nothing to do. Nothing I could say now would erase what I have already said.”

  “You’re right!” Richard exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You have to show her that you were not in your right mind when you spoke: you’re a victim of your passionate nature.”

  “I don’t have a passionate nature.”

  “You don’t? Well, I beg to differ. Why are you in this position then, hmm? Explain that to me.”

  “A plague on it, Fitz! I am not going to get on my knees to beg her forgiveness. It wouldn’t get me anywhere, anyway.”

  “Still too proud, Darce. Too proud! You are in the wrong here my friend.”

  “Alright, I accept that,” said Darcy backing down suddenly, a drawn look on his face. “The irony of it is that on the journey back from Ashton I was congratulating myself on how I had matured since I last saw her. I had convinced myself that I was finally at the point at which I could put her interests before mine. I was certain that I was a really noble fellow; but the reality is that today I was so consumed by jealousy that I allowed it to overwhelm me.”

  “So you were human and a little unwise. You foolishly fought for a little joy in your life, Darce. It’s not a crime. Most men will do that; especially when they have sacrificed as much for others as you have. You love her and today she destroyed your hopes of happiness. It’s entirely understandable that you struck out blindly. It’s just a pity that you didn’t save your aggression for the parson and also that you called her an old maid. That is a difficult pill for any lady over the age of twenty to swallow.”

  A scraping noise behind the door startled them. “Listen, the others have left for the barn and Georgie is out in the hall, waiting for me. If you won’t take my advice, Darce; then think about an alternative. But you don’t have long to dither about. You can’t stay away from your own harvest supper – it wouldn’t look right.”

  With that, Fitzwilliam breezed back out the door, leaving his cousin still sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

  _______________________________

  Elizabeth and her cousins had earlier been part of a large group gathered in front of the doors to the great barn. Under a gigantic, orange moon, they had stood watching as a group of men took turns to throw their sickles at a small patch of wheat that had been left standing at the edge of a nearby field. In this part of the country it was considered bad luck to be the one to cut the last sheaf and so the harvesters shared the task between them. Cutting it signalled the end of the harvest and the beginning of celebration.

  As they waited, the sound of singing floated towards them on the evening air. Then, at a bend in the road, a cart piled high with wheat and decked in flowers appeared, led by a group of harvesters. They had come in from the fields and as they approached, two women carrying the last sheaf left the barn and ran up to the wagon. There they perched on its side, and to the accompaniment of many ribald comments and songs, fashioned the wheat into a crude harvest doll.

  The wagon trundled to a halt and a great cheer went up as the doll was held aloft by the King of the Harvest, a tall man of gypsy-like appearance. With the farmhands crowding in behind him, he walked into the barn where he approached the main banquet table and ceremoniously placed the doll in amongst the traditional decorations of boughs, fruits and berries.

  Now everyone stopped and looked about them for the master. It seemed that it was his turn to address the assembly.

  Darcy had not made an appearance when her party had left the main house, but Elizabeth had seen him slip in at the barn door just a few minutes ago. He had been immediately surrounded by a noisy group of labourers and now he emerged from their ranks and walked to the center of the barn. Closer by, he looked just as tall, handsome and self-possessed as usual, but an errant lock of hair across his forehead and an inexpertly tied cravat, testified to the haste with which he must have dressed.

  She had never heard him speak in public and he was generally reticent in company - unless he was arguing with her, of course. So, while she was anxious to avoid his eye, Elizabeth was interested to see how he might acquit himself.

  He carried no notes and his tone, when he began, was surprisingly warm and personal:

  “Friends, on behalf of the estate I want to thank you for your efforts this year. Despite the difficulties that we faced at the beginning of the planting season, we are all happier than we expected to be. It is true that we have had bigger harvests in the past here at Pemberley; but harvests have failed in so many other parts of the country that we have reason to rejoice. It is through your work that we have overcome. Perhaps there will not be so much going to market, but you have worked hard to ensure that no one will go hungry on this estate this winter. There was a time when we feared that it would be otherwise.’

  “You can be justly proud of yourselves. All around us you see your work, the fruit of your labour. For my part, the estate will continue to do everything possible to ensure that everyone earns a decent living. Remember as you work your land, that we are always here to help with advice and assistance and that we appreciate yours in turn…”

  The rest of his speech continued in this modest vein, giving credit where it was due and dwelling on future plans for the estate and its tenants. At its conclusion an outburst of applause caused the barn walls to reverberate and several of the taller men stepped forward and lifted their master to shoulder height. Darcy’s face reddened, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and great affection There were whistles, stamping and more calls of appreciation and then someone stepped forward with a mug of ale. Darcy was lowered to the ground and a space cleared as he raised it high in a toast and drank deep.

  He drained the mug and slammed it down on a nearby table. At this action a second round of cheering and applause broke out. Somewhere towards the back of the barn a lone fiddler sounded out a toe-tapping tune that was quickly taken up by two or three others. The body of the crowd began to move and sway, individual couples breaking off to execute a few lively steps of their own. It was time for Elizabeth and her cousins to return to their seats.

  Back at the table, a voice sounded quietly in her ear. “Miss Bennet, may I take this seat next to you?”

  It was Darcy. Elizabeth hadn’t seen him approach. At the sound of his voice she just managed to stop herself from shrinking away. Although her indignation was still there, it was now somewhat muted. She had considered Georgiana’s words in the intervening period and realised that Darcy had stru
ck out at her because he was hurt.

  However there was a reluctance to engage him that went deeper than that. She knew Darcy well enough to know that an apology would be inevitable and she dreaded the intimacy of that situation. This man, so far above her in both status and power, had paid her the ultimate compliment of asking for her hand in marriage today; yet she was honour bound to reject him. Anything that she could say would only seem spiteful or petty. Then there was the fact that she had no idea where a conversation between them would lead.

  For the first time in her life Elizabeth feared hearing the truth spoken aloud. Her mind was a jangle of nerves and sensations, darting hither and thither in search of a way to prevent any further familiarities and confidences from taking place. He couldn’t possibly love her; could he? It seemed impossible, yet deep down she was terrified of another show of ardency on his part.

  “Great speech, Darce!” Richard Fitzwilliam called from the middle of the table where he sat between Georgiana and Lucy Randall.

  “You certainly are popular with your tenants, Darcy. You must let me in on some of your secrets before we leave.” It was Elizabeth’s cousin, Geoffrey Randall, speaking, as he leaned over to cut a slice of pie.

  “Don’t ask him that, Randall. Not if you don’t want a lecture. Darcy believes that good estate management springs from an individual’s personal priorities and convictions. I have it right, don’t I?” Fitzwilliam asked his cousin, his eyebrow raised teasingly.

  For a minute Elizabeth dared to hope that Darcy might get caught up in the back and forth of the general conversation but to her disappointment he merely shrugged his shoulders at the remark before turning back to her.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, meeting her eyes honestly. May I apologise for my earlier outburst. I hope you know that what I said was undeserved and untrue. You must…”

  Elizabeth panicked. “Mr. Darcy,” she interrupted, “I think that you will admit that I have become more than familiar with your hasty temper over the course of our acquaintance. Think nothing of it,” she said; grandly waving his concerns aside and desperately hoping that the matter would be dropped.

  “I wish you would allow me to explain. You are certain that you are not offended?”

  “You have just admitted that what you said was untrue. How can I remain offended? If there was some truth in your words… Well, that would be another story. But you were angry. I accept that.”

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed at this seeming generosity. “Knowing your temper, I find it hard to believe in such magnanimity, Miss Bennet. Don’t you at least want to know the cause of my sudden outburst?”

  Elizabeth forced a note of gaiety into her voice. “My very nature rebels against dwelling upon disagreements at what is, after all, a celebration,” she said lightly. “Come, sir, you have worked hard and deserve to celebrate. Let us be cheerful and agree to forgive each other our transgressions.”

  She held her breath until he replied, ‘Very well, Miss Bennet. It shall be as you wish.”

  Now reasonably certain that she was safe (for the time being at least) the meal passed all too quickly for Elizabeth. She participated in the general light-hearted bantering at the table as a means to avoid conversing with the man at her side and had almost succeeded in putting the matter out of her mind when, through her distraction, she suddenly became aware that Darcy had pushed back his chair. It would appear that it was time to go.

  Looking around her, Elizabeth saw that the mood in the barn had shifted. Inhibitions were disappearing. The music seemed rowdier, the dancing more abandoned and all around them people laughed and leaned into each other, shouting and banging their tankards on the tables in time to the music. Over her head, Darcy was gesturing to Fitzwilliam and Geoffrey Randall that it was time to take the young ladies home. He moved behind her chair and as she stood, solicitously draped her shawl around her shoulders. She hugged its warmth close to her, fatalistically preparing herself for what the walk home might bring.

  Outside the sweet, powdery smell of harvested grain hung in the crisp night air. Above their heads the sky was studded with stars and the supernatural whiteness of the risen moon illuminated the fields, creating stark shadow-lines on the surface of the soil. As they reached the road the group split in two, the main party striding away from Darcy and Elizabeth who maintained the slower pace that they had used when crossing the fields. On the night air, the voices of the others grew fainter and fainter and Elizabeth clenched her jaw against the apprehensive shivers which ran through her.

  They walked in silence until they reached a patch of dense shadow beneath two large oaks. Here Darcy stopped and said in a low, desperate voice, “You must think me mad. And I suppose that I am as far as you are concerned. My excuse is that I’m in love with you and I have been almost from the first. When you told me of your parson… What is his name?”

  “Edmund. Edmund Pembroke,” said Elizabeth, too stunned by the intensity of his voice to do more than answer.

  “When you told me of his courting you, I was suddenly overcome by… It was sheer jealousy, Elizabeth. I couldn’t bear to think of you in someone else’s arms,” he said. “I struck out unfairly, but I never meant to hurt you.”

  How could she defend herself from this assault on her sensibilities? For both their sakes she couldn’t; wouldn’t show him how deeply he was affecting her. “Can we walk on, sir? The others are far ahead,” she said, her voice shaking.

  He nodded but neither of them moved. A brief silence fell. Then, looking directly in front of her, Elizabeth tried to appeal to his sense of justice:

  “Perhaps I have been clumsy in my dealings with you, sir. I would avoid giving you pain if I could. I am not disputing the intensity of your feelings, but until last night I had no idea that you had any attachment to me at all. This has all come as a shock. It is so far from what I believed to be the case. There was never any intimation of your true feelings: you appeared to be generally cold and standoffish. If you remember, you did a very good job of ignoring me at Jane’s wedding, which was our last encounter before I met you again at Ashford.”

  “So during all the time that I was at Netherfield, you never once saw how I felt,” he said sadly. “I must have been better at concealing my emotions than I imagined. You must understand that I was trying to protect you at the time. My mother’s wishes bound me in marriage to my cousin, Anne. Everything I have…”

  Here he paused, lost for words and then said simply, “I had no choice but to honour her promise to keep Rosings within the ambit of the Fitzwilliam family.”

  “And that is another thing, sir. This difference between us, both in birth and in fortune… How do you imagine that can be overcome without alienating your family?”

  “All that would be as nothing if you could return my feelings, Elizabeth.”

  “You dismiss it, sir; but it would not be ‘as nothing’ to me.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned her palms up in a gesture of bewilderment. “First of all, I don’t understand why you chose to love me. You are an intelligent and extremely attractive man. You are wealthy enough to have your pick of society’s debutantes; instead you propose marriage to someone who does not move in the same circles. You ask me to throw myself into an unknown future in which I would incur the displeasure of your family and peers and be seen as little better than a fortune seeker by the society in which you move.”

  Darcy sighed heavily and above them a breeze stirred the leaves of the oak tree, letting through starry pin-points of moonlight. At the movement, his face was cast half in moving shadow and light and he was once again the creature of mystery who had called to the unknown within her last night.

  “I understand your bewilderment but you must know that I didn’t choose to fall in love with you at first; it just happened. I tried very hard to resist it at the time, but it would not leave me. After a while I began to want to discover you as a person. As I learnt more about you, my feelings began to slowly change from something
shallow and selfish to actively wanting good things for you. I chose to love you. Because of you I am, and want to be a better person. I can’t and won’t change that.’

  “I accept that you have your pride as well as your fears, Elizabeth. Would it make any difference if I told you that I was done with fashionable society? Done with the ridiculous posturing of a group of people who contribute and value nothing… People who imagine that their very idleness makes them superior,” he said wearily.

  “I decided after Anne’s death that I would pay off every arrear to my mother’s family so as to stand free. Indeed, the very day before we met at Ashford, I had managed to rid myself of the burden of Anne’s inheritance. My life was, at long last, my own. Then, as if by some miracle, I saw you. It was as if it were meant to be.”

  He took a step towards her and raised her unresisting hand to his cheek. Looking into her eyes he said, “Elizabeth, you ask me why I love you. I can list the things that I love about you; but love is greater and yet simpler than that. Yes, I have yearned for you. Yes, I admire you for the person that you are. Yes, there was something inevitable about you and me; but in the end I chose you and I understand that you will have to choose me too if we are ever to be happy together. I ask you now - will you not stay with me? We would marry and live here, amongst my people. The rest of the world would not matter; this would be our heaven,” he said, as he drew her towards him.