Chapter 8

Darcy made his way back to the Meryton Coaching Inn well after dark. He was trying to be a part of the community despite not being at Netherfield with Charles so he headed down to the common room to have a pint of ale with the other occupants of the inn. He wound up shooting a few games of pool with the locals and listened as they told him all about the local ladies.

Word had not yet got out that Darcy was courting Miss Elizabeth. However, the bartender asked him why he was not staying at Netherfield. He had to laugh along with everyone else when one of the stable lads who had a half day off told the room the sanitized version of Darcy leaving because Miss Bingley tried to compromise him. The lad was a truly gifted storyteller and entertained the tavern's patrons quite nicely.

When the laughter and ribald jokes died down Darcy admitted that he was interested in acquiring Miss Elizabeth to wife. If not for wanting to become acquainted with her he would have taken his coach and retired to London.

The barkeep had more to talk about. He told Darcy that one of the maids who worked at Longbourne told the tale that Miss Elizabeth had almost died of influenza when she was fifteen. He scratched his crotch before adding that one reason she was so sick was because she had been pregnant.

Darcy had no idea of how to move the conversation forward. He reverted to dumb as a brick and said, "I have met all of the Bennets and although the two younger girls are quite giggly they seem to be a good lot of folks. I have not been here but three days and…" His voice dropped to a mumble.

"What is that you say, lad? Come now. We are all friends here." The barkeep lifted his own tankard and took a sip.

Darcy's face bloomed a brilliant red. So much so that everyone could see his blush.

"Come now, lad!" Was said with more enthusiasm.

He could not help the stupid grin that overtook his face. "I think I fell in love with Miss Elizabeth the first time I looked at her. I asked her father for the chance to court her. He said I may, and she has agreed to get to know me."

"Ah!" was all the barkeep prompted with before Darcy added, "It helps that there is already some Darcy blood in the family." He lowered his head before adding, "I have heard the rumor that little William looks just like me except he has the Bennet eyes." Then he raised his eyes and searched the faces of the men gathered around him. "Does it really change anything if she is his mother? I have seen her with him and want him too."

Most of the men in the tavern nodded their heads in understanding. Elizabeth Bennet was that kind of woman; most men would accept whatever baggage she brought with her.

Darcy shuddered to think of her alone and pregnant and his voice caught. "I cannot fathom a man who knew her well taking her to his bed before she was barely old enough to have her courses." She had been fully formed at fourteen, barely five feet tall and maybe ninety-five pounds if her hair was wet. He knew himself well enough that had he seen her in the light of day he would have baulked at mating with her, but he had not seen her, and they had lost themselves in the darkness in more ways than one.

Most of the men flinched at the thought. Miss Elizabeth was a small thing and seeing her grow up around here had not changed most of their minds. You could use adjectives like slight, delicate, petite and slender. All those words could describe her.

What those men did not know was the guilt that was eating at Darcy. Two things were keeping him from a full-blown meltdown. The first thing was they did not get a good look at each other. Taste and touch had been more important in their union than visual perception. The second was the fact he had not been physically mature at twenty-two. He had not hit his final growth spurt until some months after his encounter with Lizzy.

Thinking about her over the intervening months and years left Darcy with the feeling that she was a small woman with impossibly small breasts, a lean, whipcord thin body. The feel of her in his arms had been more of steel covered in silk than of silky soft. Despite her lack of feminine charms, she had been his ideal lover. She had wrecked him for any other female. Instead of repenting and promising to sin no more he was thinking of stealing her and their child away and racing to Scotland until all the furor of him absconding with the most prominent jewel of Hertfordshire died down and he could parade her around on his arm in public. He had a great wish to let the world know he had found the other half of his soul. His Elizabeth. Then he took a deep breath and sighed like a modern girl watching Dr. Jones in a Star Trek movie. She finally had a name. Elizabeth.

Darcy was a happy drunk, a quiet one also. He could sit and listen to other people speaking forever and so he pulled his tankard nearer to his body and eased his chair into closer proximity to the table of gossiping men and listened to the talk about all the women available for different amusements.

The tales they told of his dearly beloved were amusing, bold and brave. He staggered upstairs when the tavern closed down for the night with his head full of stories of Miss Elizabeth and her friends. He had a whole new respect for the women of the Bennet family. He did not have a great deal of affection for Mr. Thomas Bennet, but he was somewhat redeemed in Darcy's eyes by managing to produce women who could and would do his job for him.

That thought caught in his brain and it felt like it was being reflected through the use of a thousand mirrors. No self-respecting man would let a daughter ruin her future just so the rest of the family could reside in indolent comfort. If the men he spent the evening with were to be believed for years before he acquired an heir Thomas Bennet did precious little except sit in his bookroom, read the classics, and drink port. They snickered as they all admitted he did precious little even now.

That meant, by default, that either his brothers by marriage were taking care of Longbourne, or the daughters were. He had barely met the mother and knew she was as useless as tits on a boar hog. Her only skills seemed to be setting a fine table and the dramatic arts. The folks residing around Longbourne attributed the estates success to both the girls taking care of the farm, and the mother's brothers lending time and expertise toward building financial security for them. There was also mention of the Governess who was keeping the three younger girls upstairs where they belonged.

He had to admit that the Home Farm was well tended and most of the acreage was used wisely. He would have never thought to plant flora that bloomed in different seasons for the honey boxes he saw. Some of his tenants probably tended their hives likewise but he did not know who they might be.

The next morning when he walked to Longbourne his awe of the Bennet women rose even higher. He saw Lydia and Katherine moving around the bee hives. He watched, confused, as Lydia scooped up a handful of bees and dropped them into a jar with some confectioners' sugar in it, shake it, and then set the bees out on a white cloth. Lydia saw him draw near to watch her and explained without him asking that they were checking for mites on the bees. Coating the bees with sugar caused the mites to lose their grip on the bee and it would fall off. She did not discuss what happened if the bees had mites. He assumed it was another complicated process to heal the hive.

It had been a long day at Longbourne. Darcy went upstairs with Mr. Bennet and Hill to sort out Mr. Collins's problems with not cleaning properly. Mr. Collins had let them enter the room then blanched when Mr. Bennet went straight to the window and opened it. Once the fresh air started circulating he asked Mr. Collins to strip the bed and dump all of the clothes he was not wearing onto the pile.

Hill was the one who figured out that the reason Collins did not let anyone tend his needs was because he was worried the items would not be returned. He nodded to the younger man and explained the system of collecting and doing laundry in the great houses. He also managed to convince Collins that none of his items would be lost since he knew the boys at Eton and Oxford often stole each others clothes. That did not happen in a home with gentle people in attendance.

Since Hill had everything well in hand the other men vacated the premises and let the older man lead the younger Collins through a few of the finer points of becoming a gentleman. He also talked him into making his way down to the room designated for bathing so the servants would not be exhausted toting water upstairs for six women. The older servants rarely considered Victoria as a girl since she was allowed to wear short pants and climb trees with her twin.

Darcy tumbled into bed after doing his nightly routine and lay there in the dark thinking about escorting Elizabeth to the theater after making her Mrs. Darcy. He wanted to hold her hand and lay soft kisses on her palm and wrist as she tried to concentrate on the production. He wanted that soft hand to caress his thigh and slide up until she touched him intimately. As he imagined what she would do to him he used his own hands instead of hers. In deference to his privacy and Heath's sensibilities he relieved himself into his favorite handkerchief which just happened to be embroidered with sweet Williams.