Chapter 37

Honest communication is built on truth and integrity and upon respect of the one for the other.

Benjamin E. Mays

It was a good thing that there was so much to do around the garden, and mainly work that did not require much attention, so that Darcy had some time to contemplate what best to do while taking care of the moss and weeds. When leaving London he had everything so carefully planned out. Everything but one tiny little detail: Returning to his old life. It should have been easy enough, but knowing that people relied on him was one thing he then had not taken into consideration. That he might feel bad for leaving them behind, especially now that had given them the hope of at least a basic education only to now... - Well, and there was also Prickler. As silly as it was, he would miss the little creature dearly.

The lunch hour was approaching and Bingley had left again long ago and still, he was no closer to a solution as to what he should do. The thought of letting so many people down was still as uncomfortable as it had been when he had first started to contemplate the issue.

"Are you quite alright, William?" Peters piped up behind him all of a sudden.

Darcy had not heard him approach.

"Yes, Sir, I'm fine, Sir," he stammered back then thought the better of it.

Better be done with it than ponder on this dilemma any longer and probably make it worse. It was like having a toothache, the short sharp pain that came with pulling a tooth was nothing compared to the constant agony when leaving it untouched.

"Sir, I... - I will need to leave by the end of next week if not sooner. As soon as you have found a replacement for me."

"Pardon?"

"I know it is a bit abrupt, but as said, I cannot stay here any longer."

Peters stared at him aghast, a picture of complete and utter bewilderment.

"But why?" the gardener eventually asked. "What have you done, lad?"

Now he sounded positively suspicious as if he half expected that William Hawthorne was a criminal on the run.

With a sigh Darcy got up from the ground where he had been kneeling to pull out the weeds, wiped his hands off on the rough frock he sported and hesitantly began: "What I have done is quite simple, Mr Peters, I came here to find myself, but now it is time to go back home."

"I can't quite follow..."

"Well, John was right in one respect, that I have indeed been writing to Miss Darcy. - My sister."

It took a while for his words to sink in, but when they did, Peters, much to his surprise, started laughing until he was clutching his sides. This was most certainly not the reaction Darcy had anticipated. Anger? Yes. Annoyance? Certainly. But laughter? Definitely not.

"Sir?"

It took another minute or two until the man had calmed down enough to reply: "Ah, my boy, the moment I saw your hands when you applied for the position I knew you were no gardener or anything that had to do with manual labour. You were quick to learn, however, but it was fairly apparent that while you knew much in theory, the practical side was an altogether different matter. You could, of course, have been a footman, but you were far too keen to work, if I may say so. You are not much of an actor, Mr Darcy, but you are, by far, the best under-gardener I've ever had."

Now it was on Darcy himself to let the words of his superior sink in.

"You knew?"

"That you were Mr Darcy himself? No. That you were not who you claimed to be? Yes. You are not the first young man who had his heart broke and who consequently sought to get away from it all and do something like this, though most would probably turn to drink and gambling," the old gardener smirked.

"I have to admit that I never suffered a broken heart. There never was a woman, rather many who sought to marry my fortune and it became increasingly tedious."

"I can imagine. And so you came here to get away a little."

"Yes. Mr Peters, if you suspected me to be a fraud right from the start, why did you hire me nonetheless?"

"What do I care who you really are as long as you do your work?" his opposite shrugged. "And since you were very diligent with your chores, I had nothing to complain about. Besides, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a man whom animals trust can never be a bad one and seeing that that little hedgehog of yours is never very far from where you are... - By the way, where is it?"

"Oh, Prickler is over there, Sir," Darcy pointed at a shrub under which the little creature once again had curled up, snoring peacefully.

"He'll surely miss you."

"And I him, truth be told. By the way, Mr Peters, if you could keep my true identity hidden, for the time being, I would be very grateful."

"Well, it would be very odd, if I suddenly addressed you as Mr Darcy, wouldn't it? Anyway, it's not my secret to share but yours. - And now get back to work, boy."

With a grin, cheerfully whistling a tune, Peters made his way back to the vegetable garden. Planting the first sturdy seedlings was something he preferred doing himself and as it was, Darcy had enough work of his own to be quite happy not to plant row upon row of onions, leeks and cabbage, the latter well protected against any sudden frost by some straw and twigs.

Kneeling back down, he continued pulling the weeds from the bed at the side of the house, but not before, with some regret as to what would soon come to pass, checking on his little friend. Prickler was sleeping so peacefully as if he had not a care in the world and probably he hadn't. Where before, right after winter he had been rather gaunt, his now nice and round belly spoke of him being well and especially well fed. And talking about food, another half an hour and it was time for lunch.
Darcy's stomach was grumbling while at the same time he still dreaded to face the others and break the news of his leaving. But it had to be. And besides, he fully intended to come back and possibly even quite soon. As soon as was possible.