Chapter 8
The following morning found Elizabeth once again racing around the far pasture. Elizabeth's interlude with Mr. Darcy wasn't long in words or time but afterwards she felt dizzy and exhausted. His face was so gentle when he looked upon Mary. She couldn't blame him for that; Mary was just like the quiet, peaceful dove that she was always comparing her to. Then his face changed. Did she cause that? But his eyes: watching his eyes was like watching the skies on a stormy day, dark, rolling clouds with spots of brightness. Were they running over her figure? It was like he didn't even hear her impertinent greeting only to come back with such a rakish one. Did he really draw out pleasure when he spoke? If he was flirting, then why did he act like he couldn't get away from her fast enough? Maybe he did hear her and was just being impertinent back. Yes, they were just trading incivilities and he wanted to throw her off. He could have no other interest in her. She'll just have to guard against him getting under her skin in the future.
Deciding to focus on something more productive. She spied a covey of willow grouse lying in the grass. She quietly readied her weapon as she veered towards them and from atop her horse she caught the first bird unawares. When the rest took to the air, she managed to take down three more before they rose too high. She jumped off the horse and grabbing a length of twine from the saddle pocket, gathered the birds and efficiently tied two to each end of the rope and then slung it in front of the saddle so that they hung from either side. Elated from her catch, she trotted back home.
On the other end of the field, two riders were entering just as the lone rider headed out. Darcy and his other footman, Peter Daniels, were riding toward the partition of trees that marked the northern edge of the pasture when they noted the disturbance of birds. Always wary of intruders and poachers, they went to investigate. They turned the corner in time to see a slight lad on a large black horse trot off with the game swinging from its sides. He disappeared into another set of trees before the newcomers could shout out.
"Could that have been one of the Netherfield boys, Sir?"
"I do not know. The stable boy told me that we were the first out but anyone could have made an early start," answered Darcy.
"I didn't hear any hear any gunshots. I wondered if there are snares set in this field." When a few minutes inspection found nothing but some small footprints and hoof marks, they shrugged it off and decided to patrol the rest of the property while exercising their mounts. As they were heading to the stables, they met Mr. Hammond, Netherfield's steward, coming out. Darcy asked him if he knew of a lad with a black horse who had business to be in the back pasture bordering Longbourn. Mr. Hammond replied in the negative but added that a ghost was known to haunt that area.
"The story goes that decades back a young lad wanted to take his father's stallion for a ride. The father wouldn't allow it because the horse was much too big and powerful for him. But the boy being a stubborn thing, stole the horse in the early hours and went to that yond field. Sure 'nuff he got himself thrown and broke his neck. His father was so distraught that he went right out and shot the bonnie stepper dead. Its said that the lad and his horse return to that field so he could show his papa and everyone else his mastery of the stallion. There's been numerous sightings over the years of him racing through fog at breakneck speeds." The story was finished solemnly but there was pride and laughter in the old steward's eyes.
Both the other men shook their heads in disbelief. "More likely you got a poacher on your hands. We saw him riding out with a clump of birds. Better keep an eye out," Darcy said dismissively as he continued on.
"Yes sir," the steward responded as he gave a slight bow to their retreating backs. Turning the other way, Mr. Hammond gave himself a little smile. There really was such a story, going around for years. He told that gentleman the truth. What he didn't say was that he was the one that made it up to explain away Little Lizzie sightings. She sure was fearless on that stallion and thankfully only rode it in the wee hours. But people had still seen her and because he didn't like her reputation to come to any harm now that she had to act like a proper lady, he created and circulated that ghost story. Well, at least it worked on the locals.
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Lizzy returned unmolested to the stables and jumped off, taking her game and hanging them on a hook. Returning to the horse, she brought out an apple and gave it to Poseidon with a fond caress of his snout. Next, she pulled out scones securely wrapped in a napkin. This was given to the stableboy who was waiting to rub the horse down. The scones were a thank-you gift for the boy's extra work and for keeping his silence. Then with a nod, she grabbed the birds and headed to the kitchens to drop off her winnings.
She was properly dressed and seated in front of her breakfast in time to enjoy a few minutes discussion of the news and politics in London and around the world with her Papa. Lizzy was thoroughly grateful for this time. Not only did it allow her to keep abreast of current events but it was during such a discourse seven years prior that gave her the sling. They were discussing the expedition of Mr. Lewis and Mr. Clark in the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase, which led to the topic of the Indian Nations encountered by the gentlemen. Soon Mr. Bennet and Lizzy were delving into books concerning Indian cultures and weaponry. It was in reading about their hunting practices that the pair ran across a description of the sling.
At thirteen, Elizabeth had been under the tutelage of the strict Mrs. Watkins for two years. From the first, the governess was appalled by the scrawny boy-girl. If Jane was everything ladylike and delicate, Elizabeth was the antithesis. She had no softness and her skinny frame boasted too much muscle; her gait was too long and sure; her hands were dirty and scraped; her skin was too brown and coarse; she slouched, couldn't play an instrument; couldn't handle a needle; and wore boy's clothes! The list was endless. All these concerns were conveyed to Mrs. Bennet who in a fit of nerves demanded that Mr. Bennet cease allowing her to handle guns, knives, swords, and sticks. Plus, she added the clothing censures and restrictions on movement: running, climbing, and riding (except side saddle on Nelly, their mare). Mr. Bennet reluctantly agreed and in good conscience banned Lizzy from the listed weaponry and movements (at least where others could see her).
So when the girl read about the sling and rationalized that it wasn't on her mother's proscribed list, Mr. Bennet agreed to help make her own and learn how to use it. After experimenting with different materials and lengths, they finally developed a sling for each of them. With much practice, Mr. Bennet became fairly proficient but Lizzy took to it like a duck to water. Her natural agility and stellar hand-eye coordination made her a true marksman. She found that she could take down small game with ease and she had even driven away a badger that was scavenging their root cellar. The biggest advantage was that her Mama and Mrs. Watkins took little notice of the 'unfashionable' leather bracelet so she could go armed in plain sight. Plus, ammunition was always plentiful and reusable, judging by all the stones she was constantly picking up and stowing in her reticule.
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Father and daughter were discussing the latest developments in France when Mrs. Bennet, Jane and Mary entered the breakfast room with Charlotte in tow.
"My dear Mr. Bennet, Charlotte has just arrived with an invitation from the Lucases to their dinner party this very night! Do say we can attend."
"Good morning to you, Mr. Bennet and Eliza," Charlotte cut in. "My mother wished for me to bring the note by personally so I could apologize for the late notice. Father had such an agreeable time at the assembly with Mr. Bingley that he invited the Bingleys to come and dine at anytime and he had just received his acceptance for tonight."
"That is certainly rash of Mr. Bingley to accept with such short notice but I suppose that is the way of young men these days," replied Mr. Bennet. "Mrs. Bennet, you may take the girls and go if you wish. I just received a book I ordered from London and my plans are set for tonight."
Used to his ways, Mrs. Bennet cried out her joy at attending the dinner and invited Charlotte to enjoy their breakfast.
Afterwards, Elizabeth offered to walk her friend back to Lucas Lodge. It had been many days since she'd seen her and they had a lot to catch up on. Elizabeth filled Charlotte in on the Bingley's call and Charlotte responded with all she'd heard about Mr. Bingley since the assembly. With her closer association to trade, (Sir William operated a prosperous mercantile before he was knighted, which he promptly sold), together with the Lucas' love for socializing and letter-writing, Charlotte was her source for local gossip. But in this case, she had nothing new to add about Mr. Bingley except that he had leased Netherfield for the year with an option to purchase and that he owned several factories in Manchester, including the latest in mechanized looms.
When asked about what she thought of Mr. Bingley and Jane, Charlotte could only agree that they had the potential to get along very well: him being so open and lively and her being calming and kind, and both apt to see only the good in others and situations.
"It is with whom Mr. Bingley keeps company that is the most surprising," Charlotte continued. "Miss Bingley is said to be a harridan and a snob of the worst kind! Several maids had already left Netherfield's service and even Mrs. Nichols had threatened to quit because Miss Bingley is so very demanding and rude. You would have thought she was the Queen herself with all the airs she gives out and the need to always be catered to. How two siblings could be more different is the great mystery of Netherfield!"
Elizabeth laughed. "Do be serious, Charlotte. I admit that she seems a little full of herself but she has been kind and gracious to Jane so I shall not pass judgment til she gives me cause," she said judiciously.
"And Mr. Darcy is said to have brought two footmen with him from London," Charlotte continued. "Only they act more like shadows than footmen. People say that the gentleman does not set foot outdoors unless at least one of them accompanies him. Mr. Bane told Father that one of Mr. Darcy's men entered his bookstore like he owned the place, searching around like he was looking for someone and even going in the backroom before Mr. Darcy stepped more than a foot from the door. Mr. Darcy was polite enough and even paid extra for his large purchase but the 'footman' stood by the entrance almost defying anyone else to enter."
Elizabeth listened in wild-eyed shock. "Do you think he's in danger?" she asked worriedly. She could feel her protective instincts coming on.
"Well, I shouldn't think that the people of Meryton intend him any harm. Although my mother's uncle wrote that Mr. Darcy is one of the richest men in England and he's known to keep both illustrious and low-born company in equal parts."
Elizabeth could only shake her head in wonder. "I pride myself on being a good judge of character, Charlotte, but I cannot make him out at all."
"Well, I shalt not spend too much time worrying about him. He is too high above our company." And having reached her house, Charlotte turned and whispered, "He's expected to join Mr. Bingley tonight. I plan on occupying myself by getting as many looks at him as I can. He is just a yummy feast for the eyes, is he not?!"
"Charlotte!" Elizabeth admonished, then giggled. With a quick goodbye to her friend, she ran the length back to Longbourn.
