The Battle on Oakham Mount
Chapter 1
He had been pacing during his quiet reflection at the top of Oakham Mount. It was a peaceful and serene place, unlike his thoughts. They were neither peaceful nor serene. They were jumbled. For possibly the first time in his life, he truly did not know what to do next. Stay or go? Should he stay and work to discover his feelings? Or should he leave Hertfordshire and refute the nascent feelings he was having trouble cataloging. Thoughts of her would not leave him in peace. The battle within him would not subside.
It was a conundrum of his own making. He should not have danced with her last evening. That was a mistake in so many ways. Despite the fact that he enjoyed it immensely. At least he did until she brought up that perennial pain in his side, Wickham. Was he never to be shot of the man? He thought after Ramsgate he might never have to deal with the blighter again. He was sadly mistaken.
He quit his pacing when he heard what at first he thought sounded like a horde of barbarians heading up the path. Were there still savages in England? Surely not in bucolic Hertfordshire. Also, savages do not curse, at least not in English. This sounded more like a group of sailors on shore leave in Portsmouth.
Whichever savage was heading his way was cursing loudly and from the sound of thwack, thwack, thwack, they were swinging violently at the neighboring bushes. Whatever could make any human so mad? He was not sure he wanted to find out, so he picked up his book and the basket that held the remainder of his breakfast from the fallen log he had used as a seat and prepared to head down the path in the opposite direction. It sounded like some other poor sod needed a place to pace and reflect and he would cede the field to their superior need.
Except that he was curious. He could now discern that his savage was a female. (Was there a feminine term for savage? Savagess? Amazon?) The tone of her voice and the lightness of her footfalls precluded any other outcome. He certainly hoped his sister Georgiana had never heard any of the words he was hearing. He moved down the path just far enough to not be readily noticed just before the savage entered the clearing at the top of the hill.
"Argh! The gall of that man! How many times do I need to say NO *thwack* before it penetrates his thick skull. NO *thwack* I will not marry you. NO *thwack* I do not think we would suit. NO *thwack* I am sure I could never make you happy. NO *thwack* I am not trying to increase your ardor by saying NO *thwack* to you when I mean to say yes to you later. NO *thwack* I do not care that my mother has sanctioned our marriage, she has NO *thwack* say in the matter. NO *thwack* I do not think my father will persuade me to marry you. NO! *thwack* I do not care if I never receive another offer of marriage. NO! *thwack* NO! *thwack* NO! *thwack* NO! *thwack*"
So here was his savage. An apt analogy at the moment. He had never seen her so glorious as in her rage. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the source of all his thoughts this morning. He was not totally surprised that she could summon language that could rival a sailor, but he was now really curious to whom she alluded. Who had asked her for her hand? That prospect annoyed him immensely for some reason. Why should he care if she married? He certainly could not offer for her! If he was truthful with himself, that was the exact reason why he had traveled to Oakham Mount at dawn, the day after a ball, when he should be sleeping in until luncheon like the rest of the inhabitants of Netherfield.
He should go. He should quietly sneak down the path, have his valet pack his things and hie himself to London posthaste. But he could not. Surely if he was a gentleman, he should see if the lady needed assistance. She was certainly agitated enough, maybe he could calm her down, offer her his assistance to return to her home. What if her father did force her to marry this unnamed man, who obviously her mother assumed she would marry? Again, why should he care? He does not care. He can not care. He should not care. But he could not force himself to walk away.
As soon as he came to his decision to offer his assistance, his savage began another soliloquy. She threw her arms up in the air and nearly shouted. "I will not marry him. If my father intends to force me, I will run away. I would rather be a governess or a companion than marry without love. Jane has found her love, there is no reason why I could not find love. I do not care if I would become Mistress of Longbourn, I could not marry a man I do not respect or who did not respect me. I have seen how that turns out. No, never. Is it so much to ask for a marriage like my aunt and uncle? I would not even care if he was poor. Argh!" She had gotten louder with each declaration. As she spun around with her arms flung wide, she stopped abruptly when she spied Mr. Darcy at the other side of the clearing. He had inched closer to her, drawn in by her words.
"Oh!" was all she could mutter. She stared at him for a moment, then continued, "Oh, sir, I am so sorry to intrude on your sanctuary. I will go. Please excuse me. Oh, no!" Her face was bright red and her hands flew to her face. She dipped a quick curtsy and turned to leave.
"No! Stay!" he exclaimed. She stopped and slowly turned back to him. "I was just leaving. It sounds like you need a sanctuary more than I do at the moment." He paused and made an attempt to speak to her gently. "Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you? Will you be well?"
His tender demeanor surprised her. She had never seen such a look on his face. She thought that he was genuinely worried about her.
"I beg your pardon sir, I did not mean for anyone to hear my ranting, but I could not hold it in any longer. I will not bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I have not had a good day and it is barely nine in the morning. The rest of the day looks like it will be no better. I will have to return to Longbourn and face my family sooner or later, I was just hoping it would be much later." She stood there, looking deflated. It took all his effort to not walk to her and wrap her in his arms. Why was that his first thought?
"Please, tell me what troubles you so. My sister says I am a good listener and I promise I would never relay any of your secrets to others. Please?" he said as he motioned her to the fallen log. She did not move.
"Have you eaten? For some reason the cook at Netherfield thinks I must eat like a plow hand. I have several scones left from my morning meal, I would be pleased to share them with you."
The gentle look that he gave her allowed her to overcome her distress for the moment and accept his generosity.
"I thank you sir. If I remember from my stay at Netherfield, their cook is superb."
A quiet lull filled the clearing. Neither of them knew how to continue the conversation, so they just sat there on a fallen log eating scones and taking in the sight from the top of Oakham Mount.
He tentatively began. "Do you think your father would force you to marry this man? Mr. Bennet does not seem cruel."
"No, I am sure he would not force me into a marriage that I did not want. I think he wants all his daughters to be happy and I assure you, that man and I could never be happily married. He finds Mr. Collins as ridiculous as I do."
Mr. Darcy jumped from the log as soon as he heard the man's name. "Mr. Collins! That toad asked for your hand? The nerve of the man. He is certainly not acceptable. No, not at all!"
His actions took Elizabeth by surprise. "Mr. Darcy!"
"Please forgive me madam. I did not expect to hear his name. The man truly is ridiculous. You would not suit. No, not at all."
"As much as I may agree with you, I suppose I must marry at some time. As heir to Longbourn it would be an acceptable match." She stopped and looked down and shook her head. "But no, I could never." She shuddered and a tear escaped her eye. "I suppose my uncle might have a friend, or a client, or a clerk who could tolerate a hoyden who has little for a dowry. Although I would prefer to live in the country, beggars can not be choosers."
"A hoyden? What makes you say that Miss Elizabeth?"
"Oh, my mother always told me that no man wants an opinionated hoyden for a wife and that I need to learn to mind my temper and stop tromping around the countryside getting brown as dirt. I suppose she might be right."
Another silence filled the air. After a few moments, Mr. Darcy was brave enough to say "Miss Elizabeth, please excuse that I had listened to your soliloquy, but you mentioned that Miss Bennet had found her love. What did you mean by that?"
"I know she is demure and reserved but surely you have noticed her regard for Mr. Bingley? He certainly seemed to. Just because she does not act like Miss Bingley, making sure all and sundry know who she favors," she looked squarely at him and he winced, "does not mean she does not have feelings. She just is demure as all true ladies are taught to be. Too bad I must have skipped our lessons that day."
Mr. Darcy chuckled at her statement. "Not every gentleman wants a quiet, demure lady for his bride. Some of us are drawn to women with spirit, intelligence and spunk. Being able to walk three miles is a much more useful skill than speaking perfect French in the wilds of Derbyshire." He quieted as he just realized what he had said. Stay or go? He decided that he had just answered that question. Stay it is.
Her look was unreadable. Just because she had rejected one suitor did not mean that she was looking for another. In fact, she was probably actively looking to avoid another suitor. He would bide his time. Time and patience are your two best warriors, his cousin, the Colonel had said. He was not needed back at Pemberley until the spring planting season. Time was on his side. It felt good to have made his decision.
He offered to walk Miss Elizabeth back to Longbourn but she demurred. "I appreciate your offer sir, but I would not like for my mother to see you within twenty feet of me, if it can be avoided."
He was worried and confused. His face must have given him away. She noted his confusion and continued, "My mother's only goal in life is to get her five daughters comfortably settled before my father passes from this mortal coil. By this, she means married to men of adequate means, even better if they are rich. Any unmarried man between the ages of fifteen and fifty is fair game in her eyes. I would not wish for you to be accidentally thrown into the pot. Mr. Bingley seemed to have dove in of his own volition but I know you would not wish for the same. Best to keep your distance sir. Thank you just the same." With a curtsy she headed down the path to Longbourn and he just stood there, looking after her. Once she disappeared from view, he came to his senses and he slowly made his way back to Netherfield. It was a good thing that time was on his side as it seemed that this was going to be an uphill battle.