Chapter 6

"Mrs Reynolds, can you tell me the meaning of these names?" Elizabeth was dusting in the drawing room when she noticed the names on the leaded glass windows. The housekeeper explained, "it is a Darcy family tradition. When the happy couple leave their wedding breakfast, they honeymoon at this cottage; they drink a special toast with silver goblets and etch their names on the windows. In fact, there is a special etching tool that has been here for almost two hundred years."

"Mrs Hopkins told me there are rumours this cottage is enchanted. Do you know anything about that?"

"The story says that one of the master's ancestors, Maude Darcy, was betrothed to a man she hardly knew and could not abide. It was an arranged marriage and Maude fought with her father about it all the way to the church. After the wedding breakfast, as the newly married couple neared the cottage, Maude's eyes filled with tears at the prospect of not only sharing a bed with her new husband but sharing his life as long as they lived. They entered the cottage and toasted each other before the bride went upstairs to prepare for her wedding night. A short time later, Maude's new husband entered the room. She suddenly felt as if she were seeing him for the first time and realized that she loved him and was overjoyed they were wed. They were the first to etch their names and the date of their marriage so their love could never be forgotten. Several months after the wedding, Maude's husband died in a hunting accident. She said she would do anything she could to keep alive the love that was to be found in the cottage forevermore. That is why every Darcy who honeymoons here is happy, and their love conquers all obstacles."

"That is quite a tale. Do you believe the stories of the magic of the cottage to be true?"

"There is no magic to the cottage; it is just thought to be enchanted. Shakespeare said, 'love is blind' and everyone who celebrated their wedding night here is said to have enjoyed continued happiness. Mr Darcy was once betrothed and the woman he was to marry visited the cottage and insisted she engrave their names with her betrothal ring. Mr Darcy has heard stories about the cottage being enchanted since he was a boy. He did not know about the etching tool nor the tradition that only married couples etch their names. I attempted to stop her but when she tried to scratch the glass, the large stone fell out of the ring."

"Mr Darcy was betrothed?"

"Yes. His father signed a betrothal agreement when he was a boy. Not long after the fire, the father of his intended arrived with his daughter and they released Mr Darcy from their commitment. I grieve for Mr Darcy's injuries and the loss of the house and livelihoods of so many, but I will never regret not seeing Lady Beatrice again. I have said enough for today, pray return to your duties."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for the story."

Darcy limped back to the cottage and found the day's post on his desk in the library. He leafed through the envelopes and saw there was a letter from his cousin Richard.

September 1811

London

Darcy,

I will not bore you with the details of the ridiculous antics of the latest recruits I have been assigned to train. To say they are trying my patience is an understatement.

More importantly, we have definite proof it was Wickham who tried to sell your properties and the Darcy jewels. The Bow Street Runners have not yet located him, but they are getting close. He could hang for the thefts but according to the Runners there may not be any way to prove Wickham set the fire. After they locate their prey, the Runners will attempt to catch him in the act of selling the stolen property.

I will keep you apprised of their progress. I pray you are feeling better and recovering from your injuries.

Richard

Darcy gave Mrs Reynolds permission to visit the house and salvage whatever she could from the areas not at risk of collapsing. After the fire, she had taken the back staircase down to the wine cellar and now began entering through the front door. She carefully sifted through the ruins looking for anything that could have survived the blaze. She looked through some of the burnt cabinets and other charred items some of which had fallen through from the second floor. While she was placing several books which looked to be salvageable in a pile when her eyes were drawn to a small shiny object. She carefully made her way to it and when she was able to grasp it, realized it was Miss Georgiana's jewellery box. It contained the many items Lady Anne had put aside for her daughter. Made of heavy silver, it was not destroyed by the fire though the intense heat of the blaze melted the silver enough to fuse the lid closed. I will clean it as well as I can and show it to Mr Darcy. Who knows what else I may find, perhaps some of the many silver items kept on this floor survived the blaze. After spending time amidst the ruins of the manor house, everything she brought with her to the cottage smelled of smoke and she left many things on the bench by the front door to air out.

Darcy stood at a distance, staring at the remains of what was once his home. He was heartbroken and could not see himself moving forward with any plans to rebuild. As he struggled to walk back to the cottage, he leaned heavily on one of the brick columns which stood on either side of the entrance to the garden to help him regain his balance. He noticed someone in the rose garden, once his mother's pride and joy. "You there! What do you think you are doing? This is private property; I will have the constable here within the hour."

Elizabeth shyly stepped from behind the burned bushes, "sir, there is still life left in these plants. When I cut away the burnt stems, I can see the green growth within. My mother showed me how to prune our garden after a heavy frost or snow."

"Are you planning to prune the entire garden yourself?"

Darcy asked mockingly. He had not thought to rehire the gardeners and groundskeepers. Why bother restoring the gardens when there is no house left?

"No sir, only a few bushes a day when I have time. By next spring, it may not be back to its former beauty but in any case, will certainly look much better than today."

Darcy was tired. He hardly slept; the burden of guilt still hung over him like a dark cloud. He sat heavily on one of the soot-covered marble benches which dotted the formal gardens. With tears in his eyes, he mumbled, "My mother designed this rose garden and helped nurture it until it was the most beautiful place you could imagine. From the buds opening in May, until early in the fall, there was nothing comparable to the scent of these flowers. I miss my parents but are thankful they never saw what happened to their beloved home."

"Perhaps you can honour your mother by restoring the rose garden to its former beauty; I can imagine how lovely it once was. I have seen the lovely stone bridge over the stream on my walks around the Park; luckily it was unharmed in the fire."

Darcy looked up at this impertinent young woman. "Who are you?" Her sparkling eyes are a deep chocolate brown with flecks of green and gold; her dark curls were peeking out of her bonnet.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet, a housemaid at the cottage."

"For how long? I have never seen you before."

"I have been here almost a month, sir. We have been in the same room on occasion, but you have not noticed me."

"When did you burn your face? It must have been a long time ago – my burns are new."

Her hand instinctively touched her right cheek and smiled to herself recalling the same question from Mr Haverstock. "I was born with this birthmark. In Latin it is called a nevus flammeus, but most people call it a firemark or port wine stain. The midwife assured my mother it would soon disappear but after six months there was no change and my parents brought me to several specialists in London. They all agreed there was no treatment and it cannot be removed. As a young child it covered almost the entire right side of my face; but after I turned eight, it stayed the same size while I continued to mature; my sisters say it looks like a plum." Be quiet, Lizzy! Why are you telling this stranger your life story? I am certain he is not interested in his servant's past.

"Where are you from? Your accent is certainly not from around here."

"I hail from Hertfordshire, sir."

"Hertfordshire? My friend is planning to let an estate near a village called Meryton. I was planning to join him there but cancelled my trip after the fire and have no idea if he settled there or not. Are you familiar with the area?"

"I know the property very well. My father's estate is Longbourn Village. Your friend must have let Netherfield Park which is but three miles from my home… what was my home."

"I was surprised hearing a maid speaking Latin. I should have realized you are a gentleman's daughter; why are you in service?"

"I have no brothers and when my father suddenly passed away in May, his estate was entailed away to a distant cousin. The new heir wasted no time removing my family from our home."

"Did your father not put aside money for your care after his death?"

"My father was a scholar and cared only for his books. Estate matters meant little to him, and due to his indolence, it became necessary for me to go into service. To avoid hearing my mother's complaints, he gave my mother all the money she asked for to spend on fripperies. He never saved any money to provide for his wife and children after his death; it saddens me to say that he neglected his responsibilities as a master, a husband, and a father. I realize he did not plan to die suddenly and at such a young age, but I doubt more time would have changed his behaviour." Stop talking! I will be dismissed from this job without character and then where will I be?

Darcy shook his head and noticed some books that were stacked near him on the ground. He spoke bitterly, "when you finish pruning, are you planning on stealing those books? They have no worth, but they belong to me."

She walked toward him, and he detected her lavender scent and saw her eyes were warm and lively. "Sir, I am an avid reader and have no intention of stealing anything. Mrs Reynolds found these in the manor house and loaned them to me as she knows of my love of reading. The book covers are charred but after I clean them, they will be almost as good as new."

"Pemberley House once contained one of the finest private libraries in England but now…now it is in ruins," Darcy spoke sadly.

"Do you remember how many books were in your collection?"

"The library was started by one of my ancestors with only a few tomes in the master's closet. Through the generations, a library was built and enlarged until my family amassed thousands of volumes, but they are all gone now."

"I am sorry I will never see what the library once looked like but perhaps there are more books that can be salvaged."

Darcy looked at her and could not help but hear the compassion in her voice. "Miss Bennet."

"Yes, Mr Darcy."

He wanted to thank her for her compassion, but he was still so full of rage, he could not find the words. "I have said enough." He rose and slowly limped back to the cottage.

He was not the only person who said more than enough. She watched him walk away admiring his broad shoulders and thought about how tall he would be when he stopped leaning on his cane. His voice is deep but also soft and tender and I have never seen such fine grey blue eyes.… Despite all he has suffered there is a certain dignity in his mien. Stop thinking of those things, Lizzy. You are naught but a maid in his home!

Darcy could not see Elizabeth watching him, but he was attempting to make sense of what had just happened. Who is that young woman and what is she doing here? I have never spoken so openly about my mother's garden to anyone. Miss Bennet should be going to balls and dancing with the sons of gentlemen. She may not be of my sphere, but she should not be working as a maid. Her father should be ashamed of himself.

Elizabeth entered the drawing room with a dust cloth in her hand and saw Darcy reading near the window. She recognized the title as one of the many books she and her father often discussed. He saw her looking at what was in his hands and was curious. "Are you familiar with this title?"

"Yes, sir, my father and I read it together several times; it was the source of many debates." She then conveyed how well acquainted she was with his reading matter.

"You discussed a book about modern farm practices in England?" If what she is saying is true, she is a very well-educated young woman.

"I believe I mentioned my father was a scholar and of all his daughters, I was the one most eager to learn. I read the newspaper daily and until recently I prided myself in being up to date on current events. Unfortunately for my family, he only read that book; he was too indolent to initiate its suggestions at Longbourn."

"What other subjects are you interested in reading?"

"I enjoy history, biographies, philosophy, poetry and novels."

"The books in our library were amassed over many generations but was all destroyed by the fire. The poetry section alone had over five hundred volumes. Who is your favourite poet?"

"Is that not like asking a parent to name their favourite child?" Darcy nodded. "I have read the works of William Blake and Coleridge many times. I enjoy how Wordsworth's love of nature is reflected in his works. Since my father's death, I have often turned to Thomas Gray's Elegy for solace."

"I find it interesting that we have very similar taste in reading material. I might have given the same answers if asked the same question."

"Then it is a good thing I did not have to ask," Elizabeth smiled as she left the room.

Darcy admired the slight sway of her hips as she walked away and asked himself again, who is this impertinent intelligent young woman and why is she working in my house?

The next day Elizabeth, once again, commented on what he was reading. He asked her what she felt about the book, and they began to further discuss and debate several books they both liked. "Let me show you more of the books Mrs Reynolds salvaged from the house."

"I am very familiar with some of them. My father often re-read many of the books you are holding and referred to them as his most precious possessions. He often said that you cannot read great works often enough."

Darcy recognized her quick mind and he enjoyed having someone to talk to about the books he liked. Richard was right; he was lonely. "Books have always been a significant part of my life. My mother read and sang to me every day as a small child. My father insisted our tenants have basic reading and math skills; he believed it would benefit everyone on the estate and his theory was proven correct." She is not behaving as a servant should; it is obvious she has not been trained for this situation. Addressing me directly without being spoken to is not the behaviour of a maid but I welcome her conversation. She still behaves as a gentleman's daughter would.

Elizabeth admired the depth of his knowledge and his ability to understand everything he read. I can speak to him the same way I spoke to Papa; he would have liked discussing some of these books with Mr Darcy.

"Sir, may I ask you something?"

"It depends on the question."

"I just wonder why you remain indoors when the weather is so lovely. Perhaps walking outside and appreciating nature would lift your spirits."

"Yes, well, I will think about it." I wrote Richard that the pain in my leg is gone but only to ease his mind. The truth is that every step I take hurts me and only serves to remind me of the fire and my failure to protect the Darcy family legacy.

The following day, he slowly made his way down the stairs and heard someone playing and singing in the drawing room. Elizabeth heard the door open behind her; she quickly stood and curtsied. "I am terribly sorry sir, I thought you were away from home. Mrs Reynolds gave me permission to play when you were not here."

"No need to apologize. Feel free to play anytime."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

"I am leaving now, I thought I might enjoy the sunshine." I hope she does not think I am going outside simply because she suggested it. I just got tired of reading in my sitting room. I can smell her lavender scent again and she is quite pretty when you only see her left side. I could never allow myself to be attracted to her, but she has very fine eyes, and her figure is light and pleasing. She is a gentleman's daughter born with a birthmark on her face and if that were not bad enough, she has been forced into service. Hers is a sad story indeed.

Mrs Reynolds overheard their conversation and was hopeful that the kind and generous man she had known was re-emerging and Elizabeth Bennet was aiding him in doing so.

Darcy already recognized Elizabeth's intelligence, and he slowly came to admire her musical skills; though not classically trained like my sister, she plays and sings with feeling. She has the voice of an angel but I must not let her know I am listening. No one must know that it would lift my spirits to hear her play the pianoforte every day.

Darcy looked out the window and saw Elizabeth staggering under the weight of a large stack of wood. He went out to help her but she protested, "I thank you sir, but you cannot carry such a load while using your cane."

"I will carry what I can using my left arm. I cannot abide a gentleman's daughter struggling under the weight of such a load."

"Very well, I see there is no use arguing with you."

"Where are the footmen? Is this not their responsibility?"

"Mrs Reynolds said we needed more wood, and they were busy elsewhere, so I volunteered." They both smiled as they walked toward the cottage. She suddenly had a happy thought, he referred to me as a gentleman's daughter not as a maid. Is Mr Darcy thinking of me more as an equal rather than as a servant? You really should not be thinking these things, Elizabeth!

"What did you do before you came to work at the cottage?"

"My first position began shortly after I arrived in Derbyshire a few months ago. I was hired as a temporary companion for Mrs Murray while her aide was away visiting relatives. Do you know who she is?"

"Yes, indeed I do. Her late husband had the book shop in Lambton, and she was often there to help him. I heard she had a terrible accident earlier this year."

"Yes and recovering in bed for so long left her in a particularly weakened state. I helped her learn how to strengthen her muscles and she can now walk on her own and feed herself."

"I doubt anything could help me."

"Mr Darcy, when I worked for Mrs Murray, I used the specific exercises Mr Barton suggested, and they worked quite well. Your recovery should be easier than hers since only your right leg was injured."

"I realize that is not why you were hired, but would you consider helping me as you did Mrs Murray? I barely have the strength to walk to the garden and back, even with a cane to help me."

"Has your leg injury healed?"

"Barton removed the last of the bandages weeks ago."

"Then yes, I would be happy to try."

The next morning Darcy asked if she would walk with him, and she happily agreed. That was the beginning of his road to recovery; starting with short distances and then they sat together on the stone bench in front of the cottage. She demonstrated the exercises he needed to do to strengthen his leg muscles and rely less on his cane. Some days, while trying to move his leg, his pain made him short tempered, but Elizabeth responded to him calmly and reassured him that he would soon be stronger. It did not take long until he began to show signs of regaining the strength in his injured leg.

"After Mrs Murray was strong enough, we walked longer and longer distances every day and you should consider doing the same."

"Will you walk along with me?" He did not wish her to think he was interested in anything more than her advice. "I mean in case I lose my balance." I will do nothing to give her false hope about our relationship, but her help has been invaluable to my recovery and I wish it to continue.

"Of course, as long as I am not needed in the cottage."

"You need not worry about that; I will arrange it with Mrs Reynolds."

"Very well, you will enjoy walking farther while appreciating the abundant beauty of nature. As much as I love the spring, I enjoy watching the leaves turning these beautiful colours." He did not respond but could not help himself from smiling.

Later that day, Darcy spoke to his housekeeper about his plans to walk with Miss Bennet every day; he made it clear it was only to help him strengthen his leg. Mrs Reynolds simply smiled, "I will give her all the time necessary to help you, sir."

As he walked away, she knew there was more to his request than helping his recovery; every day, I see their growing affection for each other. You can never predict what may happen in this enchanted cottage!

During their daily walks, they discussed anything that came into their heads, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Some topics were very serious; he war on the Peninsula and their frustration with the current laws banning slavery not going far enough. Other conversations were frivolous; debating which biscuits were the best. This debate led to several bouts of unrestrained laughter. He was an educated man, and he came to recognize her ability to discuss many of the subjects he studied at Cambridge. Living in the country, she may not have learned the social graces of the ton, but her understanding of all she read was successfully nurtured by her father.

"Did you ever visit town?"

"Once or twice a year I stayed with relatives in London; they often took me to the theatre and the opera. I enjoyed walking in Hyde Park, visiting Covent Garden, scanning the shelves at Hatchards and being with my young cousins."

"I have never gone longer than two days in London without visiting that bookstore. So, you enjoy music?"

"I was never a devoted music student; perhaps if I had practiced more, I would play better. My father never engaged masters to come to Longbourn and I was largely left to my own devices to pursue my interests."

"I am surprized; you play the pianoforte and sing quite well; I enjoy hearing you perform. You may practice whenever you wish."

"Thank you, Mr Darcy. You are very kind."

"I have forgotten, are you an only child, Miss Bennet?"

"No sir, I have four sisters."

"Are any of your other sisters in service?"

"No, only me. Two of my sisters are married and well settled in their own homes and my mother and two youngest sisters live with my aunt in Meryton; those young women do not possess any practical skills and my mother has done nothing but indulge them in nonsensical pursuits. The only thing they have ever studied are the latest fashion trends in La Belle Assemblée.

"I am sorry it had to be you that needed to find work." She did not know how to react to his statement and was silent as they walked back toward the cottage.

As Darcy lay in bed, he could not stop thinking about his time with Elizabeth Bennet. I have come to admire her intelligence and musical talents. She has the voice of an angel and when she laughs her eyes twinkle with mirth.

Shortly after their conversation, Mrs Reynolds told Darcy that she had hired another maid so Miss Bennet could spend as much time as necessary helping him with his exercises; he heartily approved. With the arrival of the new maid, Elizabeth's responsibilities were few, and she spent almost all day with Darcy. Both Mrs Reynolds and her master were aware he was changing for the better because of this lively young woman who had come into his life. The housekeeper thought, if there had not been a fire, they would never have met. I believe they have affection for each other but I am certain they have not yet spoken of their feelings.

When they debated the merits of a book, they respected the other's views although they might not agree, he was interested in her point of view. She envied his formal education and appreciated the respect with which he answered her questions. Every day they came to know more about the other and Elizabeth was particularly pleased that Darcy listened to her opinions; he did not talk down to her but spoke to her as an intellectual equal.

I am admiring her lovely figure as she stands with her back to me. She senses me looking at her and turns toward me; I open my arms and pull her close. I am kissing her most passionately and the next thing I feel is her naked body beside me. Elizabeth looks so peaceful as she slumbers; I would rather watch her than close my eyes and join her in sleep. Darcy awoke suddenly and asked himself, why am I dreaming such things and when did Miss Bennet become Elizabeth? She is a maid; a well-educated, intelligent one, but a maid, nonetheless. I cannot deceive myself, even if I did have feelings for her, my family would never accept her; she is not a woman worthy to be my bride.