As she lay amoungst her beloved bluebells, running her hands along the petals that swayed above her, Elizabeth Bennett tried to understand herself. She had arrived at Barlow Hall two days prior. As with her first two visits she and her father met Mr. Gardiner at the Black Swan Inn in Leicester where they all spent the night before she set off with her uncle early the following morning. As with her first visit she came alone. Despite her persistent pleading and Jane's one far too gentle request their mother decided Jane, at fifteen and a half, needed to stay home to focus on her come out – an event that would not happen for another six months. When she could not persuade her mother to change her mind, her father to intervene or Jane to be more forceful in presenting her desires Elizabeth asked if Mary might go in Jane's stead. Though she was not as close to her next youngest sister as she was to Jane Elizabeth loved Mary and would have enjoyed sharing Barlow Hall and Derbyshire with her. However, this too was denied. The reason given was that Mary was too young. But at eleven she was older than Elizabeth had been on her first visit – without a sister to help her. Elizabeth suspected the real reason was that Mary's calm and patience, which were often needed in dealing with their youngest sisters, were not something their mother was willing to forgo.
The feeling of unease began the night of her arrival. After the usual happy greetings with her aunt and uncle Elizabeth noted the absence of Mr. Barlow. She inquired after him.
"He wanted very much to greet you but lately he finds himself quite tired in the evening. We assured him you would not mind and that the two of you could reunite in the morning," Mrs. Gardiner said, and before Elizabeth could express her disappointment or argue that 9 o'clock was hardly late, she noted the worried look her aunt directed at Mr. Gardiner.
"What is wrong?" she demanded. Another look passed between her aunt and uncle. "Is he ill?" she asked when they continued in their silent conversation with one another, ignoring her.
"Lizzy," Mr. Gardiner began, but she interrupted him.
"You are trying to hide something," she accused, insisting. "I am not a child."
With a look of admonishment at her husband Mrs. Gardiner drew Lizzy into her arms. Appreciating the comfort even without knowing why she needed it Elizabeth leaned into the embrace. Her aunt held her gently, resting her chin atop Lizzy's head.
"We know you are not a child, Elizabeth," Madeline told her. "And I promise Mr. Barlow will be at the breakfast table in the morning. However, you will likely notice that he does not look as well as when you last saw him."
"What . . ." Elizabeth began a question that was interrupted by her aunt, who shifted them slightly so that she had her arm was around Elizabeth.
"It is late and you have been traveling all day," she said gently, guiding Lizzy toward the stairs. "We can speak more in the morning."
Even with the warning Elizabeth had a hard time hiding her reaction when she saw Mr. Barlow in the morning. He looked worn, like an overused blanket. In the three years that she had known Mr. Barlow he had never seemed robust or been overly active, however; now, sitting with a blanket around his shoulders and another on his lap, he looked as if he had lost too much weight and that a strong wind could blow him right off his chair. His smile upon discerning her presence was familiar and warm, but held a tiredness. Tired already at nine in the morning, sitting at the table. Elizabeth's heart squeezed and she felt tears sting her eyes. With her usual perfect timing Mrs. Gardiner appeared in the opposite door at that moment.
"Lizzy, you slept in," she observed with a bright smile.
"It is barely ten o'clock," Elizabeth retorted. Then turning to Mr. Barlow she said, "it is good to see you."
He smiled and held out his hand. "I am glad you are here." She took his hands in hers squeezing them before throwing her arms around his neck.
"I missed you," she said, choked by the tears she tried so hard not to show.
"And I you," he told her as she disentangled herself and took the seat at the table next to his. "No one will listen to my thoughts on the novel you sent me last month. I read it in one sitting and have been ever so anxious to discuss it with you."
That smile and unrepentant eagerness was more of the Mr. Barlow Elizabeth knew and loved. They discussed the novel over breakfast and Elizabeth had almost forgotten her concern upon first seeing him. That was until he confessed to needing a rest. It had only been a quarter of an hour. Shortly thereafter a maid and footman appeared to assist him.
"He is sick?" Elizabeth asked her aunt when Mr. Barlow was gone. Although she did not want him to be ill she felt more afraid of his not being so.
"No, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner replied, gently placing a hand over Elizabeth's where it rested on the table. No more was said on the subject – neither Elizabeth nor her aunt were eager to delve deeper into the matter. Spending the day in the stables and wandering through the gardens Elizabeth found peace and nearly forgot her concerns regarding Mr. Barlow amidst reintroducing herself to the horses, the stable hands, the trees and the flowers.
The next morning Mr. Barlow was not in his usual chair when Lizzy arrived at her more usual time of nine- o-clock.
"Will Mr. Barlow be down later?" she asked her uncle who sat with his paper at the foot of the table.
"I do not think so, Lizzy," he answered, folding the paper and giving her his full attention. "Lately when he exerts himself somewhat he needs rest in the days that follow. He came down yesterday morning and joined us again after dinner if you'll remember. So likely he needs more rest today." After this pronouncement he waited for Elizabeth's response, seeming ready to answer any questions. Elizabeth did not want to ask questions because she was afraid of their answers. Instead she chose to excuse herself.
And that is how she found herself enveloped in her field of bluebells contemplating the warring feelings inside her. She was at once extraordinarily happy, but also quite unsettled. Her happiness came from being back at Barlow Hall – back with her aunt and uncle, back with Delilah, back with her bluebells. But she was deeply troubled by Mr. Barlow's ill health, she missed Jane and she worried about whether she would be able to see Miss Darcy and her father and whether, if they did meet, they would be able to resume the friendships begun last summer and continued over the exchange of letters over the course of the year. The other Mr. Darcy was also a considerable source of turmoil inside the young girl's heart and mind. She had thought of him often over the course of the year. Often but not constantly. When she did think of him it brought a pleasant sort of excitement – not an overwhelming one. It felt like when John Lucas drove the cart too fast over the hill between their houses – a lot of exhilaration mixed with a small amount of terror. Here in Derbyshire Mr. Darcy seemed to haunt her at every turn – it started when they passed the large chestnut in Lambton and with each reminder the feeling grew less exhilarating and more terrifying. Perhaps imagining encounters with Fitzwilliam Darcy was easier than the prospect of an actual meeting – which seemed so much more possible here.
As she considered all of this Elizabeth drifted into a light sleep. Just as she was being drawn deeper into a dream about Jane riding Nellie all the way to Barlow Hall the sound of a real horse woke her. Sitting up abruptly Elizabeth looked around. A vaguely familiar black stallions was galloping along the stream. He and his rider were about to pass by when, without thinking, Elizabeth stood up and called out.