RED
"Ah, Mr. Darcy, you are right on time. Grab the crowbar – assuming you actually know how to use one, or we can find a book with instructions somewhere."
Darcy laughed. "Good morning to you as well, Mrs. Price. I am well, and my health is excellent. The weather is fine, and the roads look exactly like they did the last time we discussed them. In response to your question, I can assure you that I am a gentleman farmer, where the most important word is 'farmer'. My father insured that I learned every piece, every corner and every job on our estate."
Amanda laughed. "Was there either a 'yes' or a 'no' somewhere in that diatribe?" then she straightened up from staring at a wooden crate sitting on the floor, smiled and made a curtsy appropriate for a duke.
Darcy chuckled. "There was a 'yes' in there. I believe I can relieve you of your present difficulty. What is in the box if I may ask?"
"I have no idea, and at the rate you are moving, I likely never will."
With a laugh, Darcy went back into the storeroom for the required crowbar, shaking his head and chuckling all the way. The month since his dances with Mrs. Price had been half‑enjoyable and half‑confusing. The lady always had a quality that he could not quite put a name on. She could well be considered 'reticent' or 'guarded' most of the time, but then she might momentarily become playful, as in this present interaction. He suspected that playful was much closer to her natural state than the reticent face she showed him, but he could not prove it.
Darcy's best theory to explain Mrs. Amanda Price so far, and he had put some considerable thought into the effort, was that he reminded her as much of her former husband as she reminded him of his former wife. He wondered if the two deceased spouses would be forever a shadow, standing between any real understanding with the admittedly enchanting widow.
He had even spent a good week trying on the idea that Mrs. Price was Elizabeth. Was it possible? He had only known his wife for six weeks, five years earlier. It was a grand total of less than a dozen common social gatherings, four days in the same house where she spent most of her time with her sister, one ball, one wedding and one very uncomfortable coach ride for all of ten miles. Even without Typhus, someone who had five more years of age, a mobcap, different dresses, a likely change of hairstyle and a bold as brass temperament, could very well stare him down and convince him that up was down and down was up, if she never broke character.
He occasionally supposed he could answer the thought definitively by bringing one of her sisters to Scotland, or even Mrs. Reynolds. He had moderately cordial relations with all the sisters, and Mrs. Jane Warner would probably come if asked, but what would he say. 'Mrs. Warner, I would like you to come to Scotland and prove me both insane and badly mannered?' The 'badly mannered' part she could just write back and confirm based on past experience, but the verification that he had gone completely mad would probably require personal inspection.
Even though Mrs. Price had warned him off quite thoroughly at the assembly, she always welcomed him with the hand of guarded friendship. She listened to what he had to say, agreed with what she liked, and disagreed with what she did not. She never changed opinions based on who she was talking to, but he had seen her do so based on evidence several times.
Darcy had taken to ambushing Amanda for a midday meal two or three times per week. He came into the shop with the same frequency, but not always on the same days. He occasionally saw her early in the morning or late at night. Not long after the first dance, Miriam's mother packed her up for a trip to meet with her husband, who had been traveling with the mysterious 'buyer' who seemed a mythological creature to him. They were expected to be away for one to two months. Mrs. Price hired a private coach to take her to meet her husband near Scarborough. He had met the mother several times but suspected she did not like rich men either, as she always excused herself within a few minutes of their meeting.
On that particular day, he had entered the shop and walked to the back to see Mrs. Price staring at a rather large wooden shipping crate, which she very kindly (mostly) asked him to help open.
Returning with the crowbar, he said, "Your buyer would not send back guns or bombs, I would hope."
"Not likely, but mostly because he would fetch a better price in London. They are mad for armaments there. You could probably say the same for snakes and reptiles."
Darcy chuckled, and went at the crate with the crowbar. A few minutes effort had the lid off, and he saw the contents were carefully wrapped in burlap.
Opening some of them, he saw a bottle of wine.
Amanda let out a happy sigh. "Oh, now that is something new. What do we have?"
She took the bottle and found it to be a very old, probably Spanish vintage. With a laugh, she started pulling out more bottles and found several more Spanish wines, three that had German writing, four or five in Italian and a bottle of rather old looking port.
Darcy examined the port, and asked, "Are these for sale?"
Amanda dug down through the box until she found a sheaf of parchments. One was an inventory of what had been shipped, and their probable values. She showed that to Darcy for his opinion, while reading a note from her buyer indicating that they had purchased 'everything contained in the room' in an estate auction and found the wine in a hidden cabinet that looked like a bookshelf. There were three more crates that had already been shipped to London, but this crate was for sale or consumption as she desired.
She looked at the bottle of port. "Port - you know that comes from Portugal, I suppose."
"Yes, it originated in Porto. Did you ever go there?"
She shrugged. "No – I planned to once but did not because of the war."
The thought seemed to make her sad, as the war did for many people, so Darcy decided to change subjects, and perform the task he had come for.
"Mrs. Price, would you consider riding out with me. I have something I would like to show you."
She looked at him cautiously, without answering for a moment.
Darcy thought she was likely to demur, so he added, "Of course, it goes without saying, that I am simply taking advantage of the widow's exemption to the rules of propriety. It is just a ride – nothing more and nothing less."
He could see her wavering, and he imagined that in her head there was a battle looming between accepting behavior that to the untrained observer would appear courting-like, and her desire to either ride or spend time with him. He hoped for the latter but would accept the former.
She said, "I do not often ride, Mr. Darcy."
"But you enjoy it?"
She looked at him, seemed to sigh a little, and replied, "I do, but not enough to board my own horse, and I am not a good enough horsewoman to take my chances with a rental."
Very carefully, Darcy said, "I have the perfect horse for you, Mrs. Price. He looks intimidating, but once you know him, you will learn he is about as frightening as a ragdoll."
She laughed. "Well then, by all means, let is see this frightening looking ragdoll of yours, Mr. Darcy. When were you planning this abduction?"
"I was thinking Sunday afternoon."
She looked at him carefully for quite some time. Darcy thought, but could not really prove, that she was trying to work out a good reason to reject him. He had belatedly learned that Elizabeth had been doing the same thing at the Netherfield Ball, but he was at least marginally more aware by then.
He said, quite gently. "I see your indecision, Mrs. Price. I would ask you to think only of your own comfort. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can bring –"
She put her hand on his arm. "No, Mr. Darcy. You need not bring a chaperone. I trust you."
A warm feeling welled up inside him. Trust was a precious commodity, and she had just bestowed it on him. He wanted very much to earn it.
He whispered. "Will you go, then?"
She nodded. "Yes, I would like that. Shall we say one o'clock?"
"That would be lovely."
The late summer sun was bright but not too hot as Darcy escorted Mrs. Price to the stable where he had put the horses.
Upon arrival, she looked them over. "You got the saddles backwards, Mr. Darcy."
He chuckled, not in the least convinced she did not know exactly what was what, since she immediately walked over to Omega and said, "Are you to be my ragdoll, my beautiful boy?" which she punctuated by handing him two carrots she had brought along just for the purpose.
"His name is Omega. Do not let his size worry you. He is the steadiest horse I know. I believe if he happened to stumble on a canon, and it fired right next to him, he would just amble over to the cannoneer and beg for an apple."
She laughed. "I was not intimidated in the least, Mr. Darcy. You seem a man who would know his horseflesh. Shall we?"
With that, he assisted her to the mounting block, and then onto Omega. He briefly wondered if she had ever ridden astride or jumped, but he did not ask. There might be time for that later, but for that afternoon, he just wanted to ride.
Traffic was light, and they managed to ride side by side most of the way out of town, so long as they were willing to either hurry through a gap or wait a moment for one to clear. He found that Mrs. Price was not in the least afraid of Omega, nor was the horse the least bit put out by her. It was as if horse and rider had been together for years, and he found it quite enthralling.
He had brought a very young stallion that he was considering as a replacement for Omega when he went out to pasture, or possibly for hunting or racing, both of which the old stallion seemed to find distasteful and annoying.
Once they were out on a country lane, he gave her a wicked smile, and was rewarded with the sight of Omega taking off first at a trot, but within a few lengths, a full gallop. He was reminded of the horse in his full glory of youth, after Elizabeth and before middle age, running like the wind. Mrs. Price laughed like crazy when he got to full speed, and Darcy marveled that she had that kind of horsemanship, but he had never been able to detect it.
After a run of half a mile, they cooled the horses down to a walk, eventually stopping at a nearby stream to let them water. There was a nice mounting rock nearby, so with permission, Darcy lifted Mrs. Price down so they could take their leisure for a few minutes.
"This is lovely, Mr. Darcy. It is hard to believe all this is only a few miles from the center of Edinburgh."
"Do you enjoy the country?"
She seemed to have to think about the answer for a time, and finally said, "I used to. I was raised in the country and found it very much to my liking, but I do not pine for it if that is what you mean. It was a different life, and I was different person. When I am in the country, I am a country girl. When I am in the city, I am a city girl. It is as if I am a completely different person, both inhabiting my body at the same time, but each yielding the right of expression to the other in the right circumstances. I know that sounds like sentimental nonsense, but –"
Darcy interrupted, "Not nonsense at all, madam. Anyone who truly understands both town and country would say much the same thing."
He thought back to Bingley's assertions along the same lines, which reminded him of his time with Elizabeth, who, even after five years was never very far from his mind. He was certain he would have loved her had he managed to listen to her on their wedding day, but that was water under the bridge, and he had a handsome woman sitting beside him who deserved his attention.
He startled when he noticed he had been inattentive and started to apologize. "My appol–"
She simply squeezed his arm. "No apologies necessary, Mr. Darcy. Were you thinking of someone else?"
He nodded, so she said, "Never apologize for that, sir. It shows a depth of feeling, and anyone worth knowing will understand it."
He nodded, not feeling the need to agree with her. He did agree, but somehow thought that saying it would be disrespectful, as if her opinion was not worthy without his validation, when in fact, in most any dispute between her and him, she was more likely to be the victor. She had, over the course of the five months they had known each other, shown herself to be uncommonly witty, but that wit sometimes required more thought than others.
After a half‑hour's rest, they mounted and continued towards his ultimate destination.
As they crested the rise into the small village, she noticed the changes to one of the outlying buildings, sat up higher in the saddle to get a better look. "Oh, look! The foundling house has some renovations."
"Yes, I know."
She looked at him. "Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Darcy?"
"Why would you think that?"
"It seems entirely too coincidental that you brought me to see the charity I support has had visits from you as well."
"Are you so exclusive with your support, Mrs. Price?"
She laughed, shook her finger at him. "I see what you did there, Mr. Darcy – but, I do thank you. I give what I can, but more is better than less."
He nodded with a smile. "This case was somewhat serendipitous. One of the estates I visited had a large construction project just finishing last month, and another estate had one starting up two months later. A number of craftsmen were looking for work to tide them over. I engaged them here, so got the work done for about two-thirds of what it might usually cost, because my friend promised them lodging through the fall and winter. It all came out well for everyone involved."
She smiled. "I will not be jealous of your showing me up, Mr. Darcy. I am just happy to see it. What did you make?"
"A new schoolroom, kitchen, a dozen new beds, and I set up an annuity to cover the wages for three more matrons and additional food in perpetuity."
"Shall we look around then?" she said, then with a laugh she urged Omega forward into a trot and then a run.
The children of the home were as overly excited by the two horses as you might expect them to be, particularly when Mr. Darcy begged to be excused for twenty minutes and returned with two ponies from the local stable.
Amanda smiled as he gave the children rides on the ponies and thought it to be very fine day – a very find day indeed.
They left in good time and arrived back home in time for dinner prepared by her cook. They broke open the bottle of port of unknown provenance, and found it to be excellent; though, truth be told, they mutually agreed not to repeat the incident of their first dinner together.
