Chapter 3 Grovelling

Scottish blessing: If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home.

Darcy knew that ladies, in general, liked flowers but it was not as if there was a hothouse on the MacBingley land. His only option was to pick some wildflowers as Lady MacBingley's roses had not yet bloomed.

It was after dawn but still early in the morning. The keep was quiet as most were asleep from the previous night's revelries. He had stayed to the bitter end himself, pondering on how to formulate his apology while watching Elizabeth dance and laugh with men that was not himself. He had not mustered up the courage to ask her for a second dance, not when she was plainly avoiding him.

She had danced undiscriminatingly with young and old, even a young lad of at the most, twelve summers. He had been reluctant and she had hauled him to the shadows and obviously taught him some of the more manageable steps. When she was finished with him, she had escorted him to a young lass and the two had danced the next reel while Elizabeth had remained as a spectator. Clapping with glee as the young couple skipped around like the ground was scorching hot.

After hours of contemplation, he had come up with very little to show for his endeavours. He wanted to woo her but all he had was a sorry bunch of weeds he had picked in the field.

It was not the grand opening he had imagined. He speculated if he should add a few thistles to break the ice but the reference had not gone down so well the evening before...

Perhaps he was inept at wooing a lady, it was a new experience for him. He had been the one being chased for as long as he could remember.

Darcy suddenly wished Richard had accompanied him to the Highlands, he would have known what to do. Charming as he was to the fairer sex.

Darcy did not consider himself charming, he had never needed to be but he had other qualities to recommend himself. He was loyal, fair and he had a lot of love in his heart...

Darcy's mood plummeted further when it became clear that not only Charles would accompany him to Eilean Bennet Castle but Campbell as well.

Campbell was the annoying younger brother who tagged along with his older siblings whether they wanted him to or not.

Now that he was no longer a child it was no longer charming but Charles was a pushover when his family was concerned.

In addition, Campbell had made it abundantly clear that he had a horn in the side of the MacBennet clan which did nothing to endear him to Darcy.

He understood there was a history behind it and the tale had been related to him by a gleeful Campbell. The entire feud was based upon a pair of squabbling mothers, quarrelling about their children. Darcy was not impressed that such a trivial matter had created a decade worth of hostility but he sensed that it was more behind Campbell's resentment.

Anyway, the MacBennets had offered an outstretched hand and the MacBingleys was, for the most part, ready to accept.

The trio set out around noon, it was not considered polite to arrive too early after a night of merriment.

Darcy was anxious to get it over with while Charles was eager to see his angel.

The hooves of their horses resonated on the stone bridge they had to cross to get to Eilean Bennet. It was impossible to get there unannounced by horseback.

Darcy clutched his bouquet of wildflowers as he alighted from his horse and handed the reins to a stable hand.

He kept himself in the background as they tread the steps up to the entrance and entered into a great hall that stretched over two floors. A fire was burning in the hearth to chase away the morning chill. Unlike Pemberley, the castle was cold and had a draft, making it necessary to heat it up even on a summers day.

They were led into a library by Camkirk, who seemed to be everywhere at once. He just about made it inside the inviting room when he was accosted by a mature blond lady, not entirely out of her bloom.

"Charles, Campbell, Mr Darcy, how nice to see you. The girls are assembling in the hall as we speak. Except for Lizzy, of course, she is in the stable with her horse. Trying to avoid Mr Collins. Her mare has delivered a beautiful new foal, she has given it a very strange name though. Fitzfitzwilliam is not an appropriate name for a horse, I hope we will be able to convince her to change it but it is her horse so... Oh, flowers! How thoughtful of you to bring me flowers, Mr Darcy. It almost makes up for your slight against my daughter, had it been Jane or Lydia, I might not have been so forgiving but Lizzy is wild. It is not strange you took her for a peasant without shoes on her feet.

That girl will be the end of me, she has no compassion for my poor nerves.

I adore flowers, even the ones who grow wild when there are none other to be had. Oh, storkbills, I love those. Their petals are so delicate. Did you know that if a lady puts seven different specimens of flowers under her pillow on midsummer eve, she will dream of her future husband?" The lady did obviously not expect an answer as she continued on both exhale and inhale. "I lured some under all my daughters' pillows last night but I have not had the opportunity to question any of them yet. Lydia and Kitty knew, they thought it very romantic, would you not say, Charles? Mary and Lizzy are a different matter, not a romantic bone in their bodies. It is very vexing for a mother to have such headstrong and stubborn daughters. Oh, I hope Mr Collins will settle for Lizzy. She is not as beautiful as my Jane, I have much higher hopes for my Jane. She will inherit Eilean Bennet Castle and all the land. Mr Collins, well, he has a profession... Lizzy is much more suited for a clergyman's wife. Very practical and sturdily built. She doesn't mind a little dank and draft in a parsonage..."

"Wife!" MacBennet's voice boomed, startling even Darcy. He wished he had ended the tirade a lot sooner though.

"Fiona, would you order the warriors and gentleman some tea, dear?"

His voice changed from commanding to tender for his entreaty.

"Certainly, how silly of me to forget. I must still be tired from yesterday..."

The matriarch hurried away while Darcy threw a wistful glance at the retreating flowers he had meant for Elizabeth. He never stood a chance when Fiona MacBennet, snatched them out of his hands.

Darcy sighed and followed the MacBingleys into his future father's dungeon, although the room was nothing but. Floor to ceiling shelves, lathered with books. Comfortable but well-worn chairs and a sofa near the hearth made the room look inviting.

They were offered seats which they graciously took.

Darcy felt as he had been admitted to a dungeon because of his mission of delivering an apology which had just become even more difficult with the realisation that everybody knew of his misconduct. It was probably just as embarrassing if not more for Elizabeth. He hoped she had not been reminded of the dreadful appellations by her family.

He could not delay it any longer, no matter how little prepared he was.

"Laird MacBennet, I need to speak with your daughter Miss Elizabeth. I owe her a long-overdue apology..."

MacBennet looked amused with the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

"I thought you apologized yesterday, I heard about your forfeit of half an hour of your life. I certainly would see it as a penalty but I wonder if a young buck like yourself does? Dancing with an intelligent and braw girl, hmm."

MacBingley, the younger, opened his mouth before Darcy had a chance to reply. Chuckling as he droned on.

"I can assure you it felt like a penalty to Mr Darcy, he abhors dancing even at the most fashionable balls in London. His dislike for the activity is widely known in the higher circles."

MacBennet did not look as pleased as Darcy would have thought by Campbell's allegations and turned his discerning eyes to Darcy.

"Is it true, Mr Darcy?"

"Not quite," he admitted. "I am not opposed to dancing in itself as much as having to hold a conversation with a stranger for the entirety of half an hour. That said, I am not particularly proficient in the Scottish reel which adds to my discomfort. I prefer the..."

Campbell rudely interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"...more sophisticated dances?"

Darcy frowned at the youngest MacBingley brother who seemed so full of himself while not having the integrity to carry it.

"No, I meant less vigorous. My legs are not trained for the rapid movements and my frame is a little too heavy for jumping about. I am not light of foot."

"Do you prefer activities that you already excel in, Mr Darcy?"

"Yes," Darcy replied bluntly to Laird MacBennet's inquiry who in turn laughed at his honesty.

A knock on the door was heard an instant before it flew open and Lady MacBennet entered.

"Tea is served," she announced but it was not followed by any actual cups of the liquid.

"Really, I cannot see it..."

"Not here, MacBennet. It is much more comfortable to be seated in the great hall. Cook managed to deliver some of her delicious pastries as well. I hope you are all hungry because we have plenty to go around."

Charles leapt to his feet before Lady MacBennet had finished her sentence and Darcy followed, not far behind.

"After you," MacBennet offered, leaving Campbell with little choice in the matter.

The MacBennet daughters were, not surprisingly, waiting for them around the giant table in the great hall, save one. Elizabeth was not there... Was it on purpose because she knew he was there or was she occupied with her mare and foal? Perhaps there was something wrong with the foal? He hoped not but those first days could be difficult. He had the impression that it had been the mare's first foal which added to the risks.

Elizabeth entered in a threadbare frock, the stunned expression belying the conjecture of her knowledge of his or the MacBingley brothers presence.

"Lizzy," lady MacBennet screeched in a drawn-out fashion. Hurrying towards her daughter as to shield her from their guests' sight. She grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the staircase, whispering furiously in her ear.

"Lizzy?"

"Yes, papa."

"Make sure you come down when you have refreshed yourself. I need to speak to you.

Preferably with shoes on and your hair in some sort of arrangement."

Elizabeth trudged up the stairs, in no hurry to join the company. What great sin had she committed to deserve such misfortune?

In addition, she had managed to present herself in less than mint condition to the only man that had given her belly butterflies. It had been short-lived, ten minutes perhaps but it was the only infatuation she had ever suffered. In those few blessed moments, she had felt a tug stronger than anything she had ever experienced. Her heart had beaten wildly in her chest as her eyes had been glued to the progress of his person.

What would have happened if Jane had not intercepted her?

She would probably have made a fool of herself. The man found her wanting in every way.

Finally, at her room, she closed the door and leaned heavily upon it. She rested her head against the cool wooden surface, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

It was a good thing she had accidentally eavesdropped. It had rescued her from a futile infatuation, perhaps even an unrequited love. It was better to have your heartbreak in two than to have it shattered into a million pieces...

The door flew open and Elizabeth braised herself, lest she would hit the opposite wall.

Moira, her mother's commanding maid had just entered and Elizabeth found herself relieved of her dirty gown before she had time to open her mouth. A moist flannel cloth was thrust into her hands while a gown of midnight blue with thin copper threads and front lacing was thrust over her head. It was not until she was pushed down in the chair before her vanity that she had an opportunity to utilize the cloth which she did without complaint.

Elizabeth had learned at an early age that Moira's words ruled. Protests were redundant and blatantly overlooked.

Her hair was swiftly pulled up in a simple ribbon, leaving her curls bouncing at the top of her head. It was all there was time for because time was of the essence. The nest of curls resembled a wasp nest to Elizabeth but she dared not voice the thought out loud.

A black belt with the copper pattern from the gown was tied around her waist before she was pushed out the door and hauled back downstairs and delivered at her mother's feet.

Fiona and Moira were thick as thieves. Her maid was one of the few females who could stomach her mother's incessant chatter.

"Much better, thank you, Moira." Her mother looked her up and down before she was dismissed to a seat next to her father. Fiona had claimed Charles and Campbell on her right and left side. Conveniently placing Jane next to Charles and Mary next to Campbell.

While she was spot on with the machinations to her right, the placements to her left could not have been less so. Campbell and Mary had nothing to talk about which left him with Fiona. Being his mother's favourite, the legendary slap was by no means forgotten nor forgiven. He detested Fiona and he had no reason to conceal it. The animosity to Fiona's left went unnoticed by her right side wing. Charles and Jane had their heads close together as they spoke quietly amongst themselves. Her father had been left with the company of Mr Darcy as Kitty and Lydia refused to be separated, filling up the places next to Jane. There was a vacant seat beside Mr Darcy but Elizabeth chose to sit on the other side of her father.

"How are your new foal doing? What was its name again? Fitz..."

Elizabeth knew it was rude to interrupt but for some reason, she could not bear for her father to reveal the name she had given the foal in a fit of pick.

"It is thriving father, but Kelpie is moping. I do not know if she is just tired or if there is something a matter with her." Elizabeth refocused on her food because looking up might put Mr Darcy in her line of sight

"Are you sure none of the fetal membrane was retained?" A velvety baritone voice inquired.

Elizabeth reluctantly raised her eyes to the speaker who audibly sucked in a breath.

"It was hard to tell. It raptured before the foal was delivered. I cannot see anything wrong from the outside now..."

Darcy turned to Laird MacBennet.

"Do you have any experienced stable hand who can examine the mare?"

"I do but it will be a few hours before he is sober enough to be of use. I found him in our kitchen when I woke up. Drunk as a fiddler, mooning at our cook. If you had met the wench you would understand the level of drunkenness needed for that kind of blindness."

"Papa," Elizabeth uttered in an admonishing tone.

"A cook that can make such delicious pastries is worth her weight in gold. May I offer to relieve you of her? Pemberley could always do with a pastry-making cook..."

MacBennet guffawed and slapped Mr Darcy's shoulder.

"Over my dead body, son."

Darcy wished he was, his son, not that Elizabeth's father was dead. Glancing at Elizabeth, he could tell she was not amused. A deep frown had developed between her brows and she was shifting the food around on her plate.

"Mr Collins!" Fiona exclaimed as a tired, heavy-looking young man descended the stairs. She was on her feet within a blink of an eye. Hoisting Lydia out of her seat and placed her next to Darcy.

"As a single man in possession of a good fortune, you must be in want of a wife... Lydia is almost as beautiful as Jane but much more lively. You need to liven up a bit." Lady MacBennet patted Darcy maternally on his shoulder. It took all his effort not to shudder, not at the touch but at the thought of marrying a child, lively or not.

"Mr Collins, take a seat next to Lizzy. She is..." Fiona's vocabulary of adjectives seemed to have exhausted itself. "Sturdy," she managed to quake out before she found her own seat.

MacBennet leaned back in his chair. Darcy thought he might be better off leaning forward and smack the hand that had just brushed his daughter's, quite unnecessarily. But MacBennet looked like he was enjoying himself with a smirk adorning his countenance.

Elizabeth looked like she was waiting for the ground to open and swallow her whole.

The parson, judging by his collar, droned on about himself, his humble abode and his paragon of a patroness. It took the buffoon an eternity to get to the point but when Lady Catherine de Bourgh was mentioned his head snapped in his direction which did not go unnoticed by his perceptive host.

"Do you know the distinguished Lady, Mr Darcy?" MacBennet drawled.

"Mr Darcy?" The monkey interrupted.

"As the Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?" The baboon tried to bow over his food and his forelock dipped into the soup that a maid had placed in front of him. At least, it dripped back into the container it had come from.

Darcy nodded but he was not about to let the canary hijack the conversation.

"Miss Elizabeth, I sense you are worried about your mare. If you like, I can examine her for you. I do have some experience in the matter. I breed horses at Pemberley and I have aided in many a foaling..."

"I could not inconvenience a guest of my father. Besides, you needed to talk to me, Papa?"

"I already have, lass. You go with Mr Darcy and check on your mare, I can see you are worried. I will entertain Mr Collins for the time being but do not try my patience."

Elizabeth looked like she was about to decline when Mr Collins bumped her leg with his knee.

Darcy could not know for certain but Elizabeth scooted away from him until she was perched on the edge of her seat and that is what he thought most likely to have happened.

Elizabeth rose from her chair with an expression of doomsday clouding her countenance.

Mr Collins moved to rise from his chair but MacBennet stalled him with a simple hand gesture. The man had an incredible presence and could have achieved whatever he wanted if he could be bothered to exert himself. At the moment, Darcy contented himself with gratefulness towards the man that allowed him a word with his daughter under fewer eyes, although he doubted they would be alone in the stable.

He guessed right, Camkirk followed at a distance. Out of earshot but within sight. He would be in much more trouble with him than he would have been with the Laird of Eilean Bennet.

Elizabeth and Darcy walked in silence towards the stables when Darcy's mouth had a disobedient moment.

"I brought you flowers." Elizabeth looked him in the eyes before her gaze travelled downwards to his empty hands.

It took Darcy a minute or two to shake the spell her remarkable eyes had cast over his faculties.

"Your mother took them, she misunderstood and thought they were for her. I did not have the heart to tell her they were not. She seemed very pleased despite the fact that they were merely wildflowers."

Elizabeth's eyes were examining him closely for the second time in a short span. Basking in her emerald, sapphire and moonlighted orbs took away his ability to think. He knew it was something he needed to remember but what it was quite escaped him.

"Why would you bring me flowers, Mr Darcy?"

Her eyes deprived him of his ability to think and speak, her deep velvety alto stole his ability to move... He came to an abrupt halt and drove his hand through his hair. He looked at her helplessly, trying to convey the sentiments he could not speak.

"I..."

Darcy took a deep fortifying breath and stepped a little closer so he could lower his voice.

"I owe you an apology...

I have wrecked my mind since the unpardonable untruths were uttered but I cannot come up with any words that would remotely suffice. I thought that perhaps a gesture might atone for some of my offences but all I could muster was a bouquet of wildflowers. I picked them in the fields beyond the MacBingley keep at dawn. Even those I managed to lose before I was able to give them to you. I am inept at making amends..."

He closed his eyes, hung his head and waited for her judgement to fall.

"I see that you have given this a lot of thought and you acknowledge your culpability. It gives you credit. If you could look at Kelpie and tell me she is well, I will consider it a sufficient gesture to reprieve you from the rest of your offence."

Darcy opened his bewildered eyes, his lips parted but he could not think of anything to add.

Elizabeth gave him a soft smile, the most wonderful gift he had ever received. Not even the black stallion his father had presented to him on his tenth birthday surpassed the ghost of a smile, she had bestowed upon him.

She did not loathe him, she probably did not like him either but he saw no contempt in her eyes. Merely weariness and a nominal novelty.

He followed her obediently into the stable, to the box where Kelpie and her foal were placed. At first glance, nothing untoward was noticeable.

"She has not eaten any of the hay I have brought her, neither has she touched the overripe apple which is highly unusual for her."

Darcy stepped closer to the mare who seemed to tolerate his presence although her ears lay back and she was observing him closely.

He let his hand stroke her back from the neck to the tale before he lifted the latter to see if there was any retained fetal membrane sticking out. It was not but that did not mean that there was not something left inside.

He removed his cravat, coat, waistcoat and unbuttoned his sleeves to roll up his shirt as far as he could manage.

"I need to examine her internally. Before I do that I need to gain her trust. While I do it, I need you to comfort her so she does not kick me."

Elizabeth nodded and turned her head away to hide her crooked smile.

Darcy moved to the horses head and spoke softly into her ear while stroking her neck. Kelpie nudged him a step back with her head before she lay it to rest on his shoulder. He continued to soothe the horse while he asked Elizabeth for soap and water to clean his hands.

She thought he needed the cleaning supplies to rinse after he was done but Darcy cleansed his hand and arm thoroughly before he applied it on the horse while Elizabeth observed in rapt attention but she did not comment.

Darcy was thankful she let him work undisturbed as he channelled his mind to what he was doing.

He found a piece of membrane and readied himself to jump out of the way from the blood rush he expected to follow when he removed it. He did not make it, not entirely and his shirt and buckskin breeches were soaked. He managed to wipe off his legs swiftly with some hay but his shirt was a lost cause. It did not matter, Kelpie had needed his intervention. She stomped around a little but settled quickly.

When she had calmed he checked if he had got it all out and he had.

"Will she be well?" The uncertainty in her voice tugged at his heartstrings.

"I believe so, you caught it early."

"Thank you!"

The gratitude in her voice was nice but not what he wanted. Embarrassed he nodded and washed the grim off his person.

"Come, my father will lend you a clean shirt. I cannot let you walk around with a bloody shirt, you might be mistaken for cutthroat and disposed of on the spot." An accentuating smile took the sting out of her words.

He carried his coat and waistcoat in his clean hands while they returned to the castle. Elizabeth stole glances at him clandestinely, he pretended not to notice. Sensing she would be embarrassed if he called her out.

With the first impression he had left her with, bewilderment was likely the best he could hope for.

Elizabeth guided him through a side entrance, assumedly to avoid horrifying her mother and sisters.

He had learned that she had a solicitous heart and she was considerate of others.

He might have been drawn to her beauty initially but the more he saw the harder he fell. From saving an ungrateful sister and aiding a shy young lad, to keep herself calm and collected during an emergency where many men would have fainted. He was duly impressed.

She gestured for him to enter a chamber while she remained on the threshold herself.

It was a generous, well-appointed room, obviously belonging to the laird.

Camkirk materialized from a side door.

"Mr Darcy needs a clean shirt. I offered him one of my father's shirts since he helped Kelpie. Will you see to it, Camkirk?"

Elizabeth turned and walked away, Darcy tugged the sticky shirt over his head as Camkirk rummaged through a chest.

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth twirled towards her father and got an eyeful of a bare-chested Darcy along the way. Her eyes widened, their gaze locked and held before her eyes travelled. It was a split second but Darcy put it away in his mind's treasure chest.

"Lass, what were you doing in my chamber?"

"Nothing, I went no further than the threshold. Kelpie bled on Mr Darcy's shirt, I offered him one of yours as a trade since he most likely saved Kelpie's life."

"Take heed, Lizzy, not to end up like my other silly daughters. A girl likes to be crossed in love now and again. It gives her precedence over the other lasses but I expect better from you. Let Mr Collins do the job, I am sure he will perform admirably."

Elizabeth's fists were clenching and unclenching while he spoke.

Finally, Camkirk found what he was looking for and handed Darcy a shirt that he pulled on immediately.

"Need any help with that?" Camkirk pointed at his coat.

"No, thank you."