Copyright 2021 Elizabeth Frerichs

Elizabeth anxiously watched as the workmen began to dig, laying out the drains according to her diagrams. Fortunately, the weather had cooperated and the ground was warm enough to dig, though the temperature remained chilly and the sky was overcast. It did not look like it would rain, so Elizabeth was hopeful that they would be able to complete the project within the day. She had no desire to spend another day standing in the cold watching digging, and she doubted Jane, Mr. Bingley, or Mr. Darcy did either.

At least she was not alone in the gloomy cold. Jane, who had accompanied Elizabeth solely for the purpose of spending more time with Mr. Bingley, stood next to that gentleman; both were engrossed in their conversation, though Mr. Bingley did occasionally tear his eyes from Jane to examine the work.

Mr. Darcy stood next to Elizabeth. He and Mr. Bingley had cheerfully greeted both ladies upon their arrival and then, as though he sensed her anxiety, Mr. Darcy had stated that he was sure all her hard work would be rewarded and simply remained nearby, offering silent support.

Elizabeth was grateful for his silence as she referred back and forth between her diagrams and the men's work. She rarely allowed anxiety to take hold of her, but this major change was both expensive and complicated. If she failed, it would be but a confirmation of her father's beliefs, both that the changes could not be successfully enacted and that she was no more capable of running Longbourn than he was.

She glanced up at Mr. Darcy's intent face as he watched the men. Pemberley was reputed to be considerably larger than Longbourn. How many times had he executed major changes to his property? Yet he was still able to say that mistakes would happen and that one could both learn from and fix them.

How ironic that the man who chose implacable resentment for his worst fault espoused the power of mistakes.

Nearly an hour later, once the men had fallen into a rhythm, Mr. Darcy suggested that Elizabeth take a few minutes to walk about. "You have been standing in one attitude for quite some time. If you intend to watch the entirety of the work, you do not wish to fatigue yourself now."

Elizabeth shifted. She had not even been aware of how stiff she was until Mr. Darcy had pointed out the possibility. "I believe you are right, Mr. Darcy," she said, her attention still fixed on the digging.

"I am confident that Miss Bennet can manage for a few minutes."

Elizabeth hesitated. Jane was not well-versed in the project, but she would be sufficient incentive for the men to continue taking care with the drains. And the men Elizabeth had hired were all local and trustworthy. Surely she could walk around the edge of the field for a few minutes without disrupting the work? Mr. Bingley and Jane had already done so several times over the course of the morning.

"I will ask her if she is willing," she finally agreed.

Jane, of course, was more than willing and fully supported the idea. Her smile grew a trifle as Mr. Darcy offered to escort Elizabeth.

Once beyond earshot, Darcy took Bingley's advice. "I am quite impressed by your work, Miss Elizabeth. You have done an excellent job with this endeavour."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy." She glanced up at him. "I have greatly appreciated your assistance with it."

"I am glad that I could assist. But truly, I believe you would have managed quite well without me," he said earnestly.

"Let us agree to disagree," Elizabeth said lightly.

"A sensible recourse for two such opinionated people," Darcy said. "However, your dedication and determination match that of the best landowners I know, so I am certain you would have devised a solution." He smiled down at her. "How do you believe the work is proceeding this morning?"

Elizabeth glanced back at the workmen. "I believe it is going well."

"As do I." He hesitated, trying to decide how best to steer the conversation. He had both promised Georgiana that he would speak to Elizabeth about Miss Lydia as soon as possible and told Elizabeth that he intended to ask about her mother's disapproval of the improvements today. Yet, his primary purpose in suggesting they walk was to help Elizabeth relax, and neither of those topics was calculated to ease her distress. She seemed so tense and worried even though she had clearly invested the requisite time in determining the proper locations and methods for her workers to install the drains. He recalled being equally anxious the first few times he had enacted such changes at Pemberley—though the anxiety had been more a result of how painful it was to run the estate without his father. "Are you well?"

Elizabeth looked up at him with wide eyes. "Pardon?"

"I was just recalling the first time I enacted significant changes in my estate and how nerve-wracking the process was."

"Ah." Elizabeth stared ahead meditatively. "I believe I am, though I am concerned that mistakes may waste all the work and time is against us."

"Because of the spring rains or because of your father's return?" Darcy offered, attempting to provide space if she wished to talk about it but not to pressure her if she did not.

Elizabeth nodded tightly. "Both, among other things. We also do not know how long it may be before—the entail is enacted."

"It sounds as though you have a wise plan," Darcy said awkwardly. How was one supposed to respond when the woman one wished to spend the rest of one's life with was discussing her father's death and her impending homelessness? "Though I hope such measures will not be necessary."

Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I believe the entail is inevitable," she said lightly.

"I—I did not mean to imply that it would not be. I merely meant that—I hope you will have alternatives beyond attempting to live off whatever increase your improvements provides the estate."

Elizabeth's stomach swooped as though she had just missed a step. What was Mr. Darcy implying? She chanced a look at the man. Fortunately, his attention was on Jane and Mr. Bingley. That must be what he'd meant, she told herself firmly.

Her thoughts wandered to Mr. Darcy's previous assertion that he intended to ask about her mother's ignorance of the improvements. She had been dreading the conversation for some time, but perhaps it would be better to get it out of the way. Full disclosure would likely cause Mr. Darcy to flee Hertfordshire again, but clearly her heart was too attached already. Better for Mr. Darcy to know the truth before the pain of his desertion ached more deeply than Jane's wounded heart upon Mr. Bingley's previous departure.

"I have not told my mother of my efforts because she would not approve of the extra expense," she confessed.

"Pardon?"

"Earlier this week you mentioned that you desired more information about why my mother is not aware of the improvements."

"I did not intend to ask you to disclose more than you are willing," he said slowly. "I merely thought you might appreciate an opportunity to speak of it. I am sorry that you are undertaking these improvements without your mother's support. Managing an estate can be challenging under the best of circumstances and it is—difficult to do so alone."

Elizabeth studied his face. Tension surrounded his eyes, and his gaze held only sorrow. For the first time she considered how difficult it must be for him even now. She could empathise with the strain of becoming unexpectedly responsible for a property, and she could not imagine how difficult it must have been for him to have gained such a large estate while suffering from the acute grief of losing his father.

Without a wife, he was responsible for the mistress's duties too. It must be a lonely place. And to have to take care of his younger sister as well, to help her navigate this most difficult time in her development, particularly given the pain of her experiences with Mr. Wickham . . . .

Mr. Darcy was a good man.

Perhaps he did not always express himself well. Perhaps he was shy and still awkward as he changed his behaviour. He was certainly flawed. But he was a good man.

"I imagine that it is difficult to manage your estate and raise your sister."

Mr. Darcy slowed. "Yes."

"You have done an excellent job with her," Elizabeth offered. "She is a lovely young woman." The Bennet sisters had visited Miss Darcy on Saturday, and it had only reinforced Elizabeth's belief that Miss Darcy, though shy, was someone she would enjoy having as a friend.

"Thank you. She has—in many ways, she has helped me grow more than I have challenged her, particularly in the past few months."

"Which is a testament to your excellent relationship with her," Elizabeth put in. "It is only now that my sisters know me better and are more secure in our relationships that they challenge me. You have clearly provided an environment where Miss Darcy feels secure and may learn and grow."

"Our experiences with Wickham have changed us both, Georgiana for the better."

"You do not think you have grown as a result of your experiences with Mr. Wickham?"

Mr. Darcy gave a small shrug. "Perhaps. In the end. I am not sure it would have ended so positively had it not been for you."

"For me?" Elizabeth asked, blinking at him.

"Yes. You challenged me to do something different about Wickham and convinced me that I could safely do so. In addition, our conversation after the Netherfield Ball left me entirely dissatisfied with how I departed Hertfordshire. And your words to Bingley were what led to his return. Had he not returned, it is possible that I would never have done anything about Wickham," he said, his attention fixed on the track ahead of them.

"I disagree. At some point, you would have realised your error, and you are not a man to allow mistakes to stand unresolved."

"I hope I would have done something, but based on my past behaviour, it seems unlikely."

Elizabeth smiled. "You must take some of my own philosophy: learn from your mistakes, but after you have mined them, do not dwell on the past. It will only keep you trapped there."

Yes, that was right. She knew it, but somehow saying it made it so much more real.

She had examined her past with her father—given the fact that she had been a child when the nature of their relationship had been determined, she might not have been able to make any other choices. But she could choose now. And she had learned that she was not to blame for his response. She had spent the past weeks longing for a return to the way things had been. Yet simultaneously, a part of her dreaded going back to tiptoeing around him, to speaking her mind only when she knew it would be well-received, to ignoring the way he treated their family instead of speaking out.

But neither of those things were options. Regardless of her father's behaviour when he returned, she was not the same person she had been before. And she could never be that person again.

She did not need to continue avoiding thoughts of her father or dwelling on them. They could not go back; therefore, nothing in her previous experience with him would help her decipher the best way to move forward. Whether he would be willing to accept her as she was now was entirely his choice, and she had no control over it.

A part of her would always mourn losing the security and belonging that came with being her father's favourite, but she could finally begin to let go of the past and move on.

"A wise philosophy," Mr. Darcy said. "I suppose, in some ways, despite handling Wickham differently this time, I have been trapped in regret over the poor decisions I made about him in the past."

"It is hard not to repine the past, particularly when one you love is still suffering because of it," Elizabeth said, thinking about Lydia and Miss Darcy. "Miss Darcy does not seem too distraught by Mr. Wickham's desertion."

"I think she is primarily relieved that he is no longer free to injure others." He sighed. "Georgiana felt much guilt because she believed that her situation kept me from curbing Wickham. And, although concern for her was my primary reason for not confronting the man at once, clearly it would have been possible to hobble him long ago."

"She is not—grieving his punishment?"

"Not that I am aware of." Mr. Darcy hesitated. "And Miss Lydia? Is she distressed by his punishment?"

"I do not know. I believe her distress is primarily a result of how little Mr. Wickham cared for her. She has grasped that he was merely attempting to injure our family," Elizabeth said slowly. "It has been a blow to her vanity, but also to her heart as she truly believed herself to be in love with the man."

"Georgiana has requested an opportunity to speak to Miss Lydia about her experiences with Wickham."

Elizabeth studied him for a moment before turning her attention to the workers. "You know that Lydia is—she is not discreet. I cannot guarantee that she will keep your sister's secret. I wish it was not so, but I cannot allow Miss Darcy to jeopardise herself without speaking out."

"Georgiana is aware. But she believes the risk to be worth it."

Elizabeth stared at him. "The risk of ruining her reputation?"

Mr. Darcy hesitated. "I am unsure how much Georgiana intends to share, but I have given her permission to share whatever she desires and have spoken to her of the dangers. I do not wish to speak for her, but she has told me that she would prefer her experiences with Wickham be used in some positive fashion after the distress of the past months. She believes that helping Miss Lydia will also help her, and I agree."

Elizabeth considered. Sharing the pain of her experiences with her sisters had certainly been cathartic and had, in some ways, helped her to begin the process of forgiving herself for her mistakes with her family. And even to begin to see past those mistakes.

In the moment, it had felt as though the situation with her family was entirely her fault, her responsibility to fix. But now that she had grown closer to her sisters, had begun to rely on them, she could see that they could just as easily have changed the situation too. It had not been her responsibility to force change and truly, if her sisters had not taken responsibility for their own growth, they would not be where they were today; her father was proof of that.

She had merely created space for the change by taking responsibility for her own actions at long last. For so long she had blamed the distance in her relationships with her sisters on them, on their silliness, their inability to relate well . . . and those were factors. But she was still responsible for her half of the relationship, and she had abdicated that responsibility long ago.

Perhaps Miss Darcy needed such an experience to help her move past the events of the previous summer.

Lydia was currently more likely to keep Miss Darcy's secret than at any time in her life. But . . . .

Then again, it was not Elizabeth's choice to make. She glanced up at Mr. Darcy. The man was painfully aware of her family's lack of discretion, yet he was willing to allow his sister to risk opening up to them. Mr. Darcy met her gaze and held it.

She remembered thinking what a tall, handsome gentleman he was the first time she had seen him, but then all sense of his attractiveness had dissipated the moment he had insulted her. People often said, "handsome is as handsome does," and perhaps that was why her attraction had grown over the past weeks; now, when he turned his full attention on her, she could not help but get lost in the depth of his eyes and the curve of his smile.

Just now he was looking down at her sombrely, a question lurking in his eyes. He had remained silent, giving her space to think—another thing she quite liked about him. After a moment, he gently brought them to a halt, and Elizabeth forced herself back to their conversation.

"I can identify with Miss Darcy's desire to turn her experience to use. As long as she is aware of the risks . . . ."

"She is. And I believe such a conversation will benefit her as much as, if not more than, it will Miss Lydia."

Elizabeth nodded.

"Is there a time when they could have such a conversation in private?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Oh! Yes, of course. I will arrange it with Lydia. Sometime when my mother is out visiting and Lydia remains home," she mused, considering when such an event might occur. Despite Lydia's obvious misery, Mrs. Bennet alternated between insisting Lydia stay home because she looked a trifle peaky and requiring Lydia accompany her because she needed entertainment to raise her spirits. Lydia fulfilled both instructions listlessly.

"Thank you. I shall tell Georgiana to expect your information."

Elizabeth smiled, and they continued on their way in silence. Her attention alternated between Mr. Darcy and the workers. She only hoped that they would succeed, that the drains would prove to be so worthwhile that her father could not argue against her actions. Then again, if she had learned nothing else, it was that her father's responses were not dictated by what was best for the family. Even if she proved that the drains would make a significant difference, her father might still disapprove of them or simply remain indifferent. She and her sisters were doing this for themselves, not for their father or their mother, Elizabeth reminded herself. Success was not dependent upon her parents' responses.

"I am certain Mr. Bennet will be proud of how admirably you have discharged your duties," Mr. Darcy said.

Elizabeth nearly tripped, startled by how similar the direction of his thoughts was to her own. Hopefully, she had not said anything aloud. Recalling her earlier determination to lay the matter bare before Mr. Darcy, and steeling herself for his rejection, she admitted that her father had not commissioned the drains.

"Then you have gone above and beyond his intentions," Mr. Darcy responded with a smile.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I am afraid that my father delegated Longbourn to me as an object lesson in how difficult running an estate is." She forced a smile, but could not quite meet his eyes. "I doubt he will be pleased that I have made such large changes."

Only years of training kept Darcy's feelings from parading across his face. Mr. Bennet had not left Longbourn to Elizabeth simply because he was taking a trip? He recalled Elizabeth coming to measure this very field. At the time, he had believed it to be a result of her father's negligence, but now he wondered if the man was trying to make things difficult. How dare he! A rush of protective feelings filled his chest, and he wished he could rescue Elizabeth from the situation.

Not that she needed a champion. She had fought her own battles admirably. The mettle it took to not only shoulder such a burden, but to begin making changes, took his breath away. He was not sure he would have done as well. Unlike Elizabeth, he had had a steward and other advisors. She had done this with only the help of her sisters.

"Then I congratulate you on your success. As someone who has taken over my family's land due to unexpected circumstances, I am awed by your determination."

Elizabeth's eyes flew to his face, her mouth slightly parted.

"I am grieved that you do not have your father's support," he said awkwardly, unsure how to convey how angry he was on her behalf as well as to acknowledge how difficult the whole situation must have been for her.

"I—thank you," she said with confusion. After a silence, she glanced up at him again. "You are not—is your sister versed in how to run your estate?"

"No," Darcy said thoughtfully. He had always assumed that his sister's husband would run Pemberley were he to die without heirs. Georgiana had never been a part of running the estate . . . but perhaps he ought to teach her enough that she could understand their steward and if, God forbid, both he and Mr. Crenshaw died, Georgiana would recognise if she was being cheated. Time enough to consider that later though and to speak to Fitzwilliam about the matter. As things stood, his cousin would be responsible for running the Darcy estate until Georgiana married should something happen to Darcy, but Fitzwilliam was in the army and his future was not secure.

Darcy sighed. "I am afraid that I have only taught Georgiana those things which my aunt believed necessary or which Georgiana wished to learn. But perhaps she ought to know a bit about running Pemberley."

"She should?" Elizabeth said uncertainly.

"I would not wish her to become vulnerable upon my death."

"Your death?" Elizabeth exclaimed.

Darcy nearly slapped himself. His clumsy words had only caused Elizabeth further distress. "If I were to die," he said, his free hand beginning to clutch the sleeve of his coat in an effort to prevent himself from tugging at his cravat or reaching out to comfort Elizabeth. "I do not anticipate dying before Georgiana—not that she—neither of us is ill. We both expect a normal lifespan; however, things happen. After watching my father grieve and struggle to manage the estate alone, I would not wish to leave Georgiana in a precarious position should the unexpected occur."

"Oh," she said quietly. "I am—I am pleased to hear that you are not ill."

Darcy cleared his throat. "I—I am glad that you are pleased."

"You are?"

Darcy held her gaze and nodded once tentatively.

"I would be a poor neighbour indeed if I wished you ill," Elizabeth said, humour lacing her voice.

Darcy hesitated, unsure what had shifted the mood. Perhaps he had been too open about his feelings, and Miss Elizabeth was merely gently changing the subject. He smiled at her. "I would have to warn Bingley if you were the sort of person going around wishing your neighbours ill."

For a moment, he thought he saw disappointment in Elizabeth's expression, but it was so fleeting that he was not even sure he had read the emotion aright. The conversation shifted to the various types of neighbours they had both experienced, and Darcy attempted to keep things light, his thoughts all the while busily trying to decipher what had caused Elizabeth's response.

Bingley had said he would have to be even more open than customary for Elizabeth to accept that he was interested in her at all due to his abominable insult at the assembly. Was it possible that she was uncomfortable because she was unsure of his regard?

Darcy tensed. "Speaking of being a good neighbour, I believe I owe you an apology."

"Have we not agreed to cry truce, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth said smilingly. "We were perhaps neither blameless in the matter of the Letter, and it is pointless to argue about who possesses the larger share of blame."

"No—or yes, we did agree regarding the Letter. However, I was speaking of the night when we met. I was abominably rude. I am afraid that I am so used to the ton's stratagems that, after Bingley's words, I believed my rudeness was necessary to avoid raising expectations I did not intend to fulfil. But I was a fool. The words I spoke were not true even when I said them."

Elizabeth coloured before a smile slid onto her face. "It would not have been a punishment to stand up with the ladies of Hertfordshire?"

Darcy shook his head, his Adam's apple expanding to fill his throat. He swallowed, attempting to create space for the words he was trying to express. "You are far more than tolerable, certainly handsome enough to tempt any man you choose."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, staring up at him, feeling as though their conversation had just gone out of focus, as though she were peering through a rain-covered window. Mr. Darcy was apologising for insulting her and implying that he found her more attractive than Jane?

"Lizzy!" Jane called, hurrying over. "Mr. Lister has a question about the fifth drain in the northeast corner."

"Very—very well," Elizabeth stuttered out. Relief and chagrin swept through her in equal measure. Though she desperately wished to hear the rest of whatever Mr. Darcy was attempting to say, she had forgotten that she was nothing but a penniless country maiden and that Mr. Darcy, wonderful as he was, could not afford to marry her. Perhaps he was merely flirting with her?

But he had said he was indulging her flirtation last autumn, and this was nothing like that.

And he had said that he had been attempting to prevent expectations when he had proclaimed her unhandsome. Did that mean he was attempting to raise them now?

He was not a man to do anything lightly. He would not have said something like this on a whim.

But he was awkward at times and he had enumerated all the reasons why he would never offer for her last autumn, reasons she was painfully aware of, and none of them had altered in the intervening months. She possessed no more wealth or connections than she ever had, nor was her family now a model of propriety. If anything, Mr. Darcy was far more aware of their lack of fitness now given his intimate knowledge of Lydia's situation and of her father's behaviour. Not to mention that her mother's jubilations regarding Mr. Bingley's likely offer for Jane had only increased this year.

So why . . . ?

Mr. Lister's questions required a bit of research and consultation with Mr. Darcy to answer, which kept her mind on the matter at hand. Unfortunately, after that, the digging continued to run into difficulties, and it required Elizabeth's full attention for the rest of the afternoon.

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! I love how awkward they are ;) Thanks for all the reviews and engagement this week! I love hearing your thoughts on the story.

And thanks to my betas, Arendelle, Dawn, Roberta, and Roxey, for all their hard work on this chapter!

As always, let me know if you notice mistakes so I can fix them :)