Pixiekaygirl: There will be a key to understanding when others become aware, its explained in a few more chapters...or you can keep guessing. ;)
Jansfamily4: The rest of the world resets too, when they get out of this the rest of the world will just think its Friday, so I guess they are stuck in the loop or frozen...though some of the rest of the world does leak through later...
Colleen: thank you for your comment, you are right he never had enough time to really care about the tenants, he was usually there for 2 or 3 weeks and was so focus on helping his aunt and leaving he thought little of these tenants, he barely had enough time to think of his own and probably not in this detailed way.
I will try to answer comments this way instead of pming. I hope those that read like this next chapter, Darcy has to deal with a recent angered Elizabeth and get help. Let's see how he does it...
Chapter 10 A Glimpse of Progress
Darcy woke with the early light of dawn streaming through the curtains, the familiar weight of the day pressing on him. He pushed it aside, his focus clear. The day stretched ahead of him like a chessboard, every move carefully calculated to avoid the pitfalls he knew awaited.
Breakfast passed in a blur, Anna murmuring her usual quiet greetings while Lady Catherine filled the air with her imperious remarks. Darcy's mind wasn't on the food or the conversation; it was already racing ahead, anticipating the moments he needed to intercept, the decisions he needed to make.
As soon as he could, he excused himself, striding out to the stables. The ride to the Bendrick cottage was becoming almost second nature. He arrived just in time to see Violet climbing precariously along the lower branches of a tree in front of their modest home.
"Violet!" he called sharply, his voice cutting through the morning air. The girl startled, her foot slipping against the rough bark. Without thinking, Darcy nudged his horse forward and positioned himself beneath her. The branch gave way with a crack, and she tumbled down. His arms stretched upward, catching her awkwardly but safely.
She clung to him, her eyes wide with shock and gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she whispered breathlessly.
Darcy set her down gently and ruffled her hair. "You must be more careful," he said, his voice softer than he intended.
She nodded solemnly, her small hands clutching her skirts. "I will."
After ensuring she was safely inside with her mother, Darcy mounted his horse again, his mind already turning to his next goal: intercepting Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam before they reached the point of no return in their conversation.
He rode briskly toward the woods where he knew they often walked, tying his horse at the edge of the path. His boots crunched against the gravel as he strode purposefully through the trees, his ears straining for any sound of voices.
At last, he heard them—Elizabeth's melodic tones carrying on the breeze, laced with a tension that made his heart tighten. He slowed his steps, positioning himself just behind a bend in the path, hidden by the thick foliage.
"Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?" Elizabeth's voice was sharp, her words biting.
Darcy froze, the weight of her anger hitting him like a physical blow. He knew this moment too well, had lived it countless times, each time a dagger to his chest.
"I understood," Fitzwilliam replied hesitantly, "that there were some very strong objections against the lady."
Darcy winced, the words ringing in his ears. Fitzwilliam's well-meaning but tactless remarks had lit the match every single time. And each time, Darcy had watched helplessly as Elizabeth's disdain for him grew sharper, her anger deeper.
He dared to peer around the edge of the tree, catching a glimpse of Elizabeth's profile. Her cheeks were flushed, her brows drawn together in a storm of emotion. Fitzwilliam, oblivious, seemed to misinterpret her reaction as mere curiosity.
Darcy's mind raced. He couldn't approach them now, not when her emotions were so raw and directed squarely at him. Any attempt to interject would only add fuel to the fire.
He turned away, his shoulders stiff, and walked back the way he came, each step feeling heavier than the last. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would have to try again. But as he mounted his horse and rode back toward Rosings, the bitter realization settled over him: no matter how many tomorrows he faced, some moments seemed destined to repeat.
Darcy woke to the soft light of dawn creeping through the heavy curtains, the same as always. The weight of the repeating day bore down on him, but he shoved it aside. Today, he had a new plan.
Skipping breakfast was a small rebellion, but one he allowed himself as he left his chambers early. He avoided Anna's quiet greeting and Lady Catherine's usual barrage of questions about his daily intentions. Instead, he strode out of the house and headed toward the path Elizabeth often favored for her morning walks.
His steps quickened as he neared the bend in the road that led to Hunsford. He knew she usually met Fitzwilliam near the parsonage, and he hoped to catch her before he did as he had done before. Timing was everything, and he knew well how fleeting opportunities could be in this endless cycle.
As he approached, his heart gave a small leap—there she was. Elizabeth stood on the edge of the path, her bonnet tilted slightly. Darcy exhaled slowly, still unseen, and took another step forward. He needed to speak to her before Fitzwilliam saw her and his well-meaning conversation ruined everything again.
But then, his watch caught his eye. The small gold hands glinted mockingly in the light, and his stomach dropped. Violet.
He had minutes, perhaps even seconds, before she climbed too high and fell. The moment stretched before him, a cruel choice laid bare. Save the girl or approach Elizabeth.
Darcy cursed under his breath, his fists tightening in frustration. He turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the stables. His chest burned with frustration, the weight of this perpetual failure dragging him down.
As he mounted his horse, the image of Elizabeth meeting with Fitzwilliam lingered in his mind, her expression unreadable yet haunting. With a sharp kick, he urged his horse forward, the pounding of hooves on the dirt path echoing his own rising frustration.
By the time he reached the Bendrick cottage, he was pushing his horse to its limit. Violet was there, just as he feared, clinging to a high branch as it swayed precariously. The sound of the cracking wood reached his ears before he could even call out.
"Violet!" he shouted, his voice carrying urgency.
Her head whipped around, and in that moment, her foot slipped. Darcy didn't think—he simply acted. Leaning low in his saddle, he rode under the falling girl, his arms outstretched. She landed awkwardly, but safely, into his grasp.
The impact jolted him, but he kept his grip firm, steadying both himself and the frightened child. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice rough but kind.
She shook her head, her small hands clutching at his coat. "No, sir. Thank you."
Darcy set her down gently and took a moment to catch his breath. As he watched Violet run toward her mother, who had come out at the commotion, the weight of his earlier choice bore down on him.
He had saved Violet, but the cost was clear. Tomorrow would come, and he would have to face Elizabeth again. But tonight, he would sit with his regrets and plot yet another attempt to change this endless day.
Darcy woke with a renewed determination, the same day unfolding yet again. He attended breakfast with the family, offering his usual polite but brief remarks to Lady Catherine and Anne before excusing himself promptly. Saddling his horse, he rode toward the tree where he knew Violet would be climbing, timing his approach carefully to ensure he'd arrive just in time.
Before heading to Hunsford Cottage, Darcy rode to the familiar field where Violet Bendrick often played. As he approached, he spotted her climbing the same tree that had become the bane of his mornings. The girl's auburn curls shimmered in the sunlight as she perched precariously on a branch.
"Violet!" he called sharply, his voice carrying over the crisp morning air.
The girl looked down at him, startled, and in that instant, her foot slipped. Without hesitation, Darcy spurred his horse forward, the powerful animal galloping toward the tree as Violet fell. Darcy leaned far out of the saddle, his hand outstretched, catching her just before she hit the ground.
He pulled her up onto the saddle in one swift motion, his heart pounding in his chest. "You must be more careful, Violet," he chided gently, his voice trembling with relief.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy," she whispered, clinging to him tightly.
Darcy exhaled deeply, his focus shifting to her safety. "Let's get you home."
He rode to the Bendrick cottage, where Violet's mother greeted them with wide eyes and gratitude. After ensuring Violet was unharmed, Darcy quickly excused himself, time pressing heavily on his mind.
He arrived just as Mrs. Collins was tending to her herb garden. A wide-brimmed bonnet shielded her face, but her hands worked deftly among the plants, her basket already brimming with cuttings. She looked up, her expression brightening at the sight of him.
"Mr. Darcy," she greeted warmly, brushing soil from her hands. "Out and about early today?"
"Indeed," Darcy replied with a small bow. "I hoped to speak with you about a matter of some urgency."
Her brow furrowed slightly as she straightened. "Is something the matter?"
"It concerns the Bendrick family," Darcy began. "Their youngest, Thomas, is gravely ill. They cannot afford the apothecary, and their resources are nearly depleted."
Mrs. Collins's expression softened with concern. "Yes, I've noticed their struggles. I've tried to help where I can—sending food baskets and small comforts—but I fear my knowledge of remedies is limited."
Darcy hesitated briefly before continuing. "I wondered if Miss Bennet might assist. I've heard she has some experience with such matters."
Mrs. Collins tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "Elizabeth? Yes, she does. Her grandmother Gardiner taught her much about herbal remedies. I've seen her work wonders with simple ingredients."
"Would you ask her?" Darcy asked, his tone carefully measured.
Mrs. Collins paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. "You know, Mr. Darcy, you could ask her yourself."
Darcy stiffened slightly, his mind flashing back to Elizabeth's sharp tone during her recent conversation with Fitzwilliam. "She would not welcome my approach," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.
Mrs. Collins's eyes widened, curiosity and a hint of amusement flickering across her face. "Forgive me, but I wonder—might there be a particular reason you hesitate to speak with her?"
Darcy's jaw tightened, though he managed to keep his tone neutral. "It is a matter of practicality. Miss Bennet and I are not on such terms as would make such a request appropriate."
Mrs. Collins smiled knowingly. "Well, if you insist, I shall ask her on your behalf. Though," she added with a light laugh, "I cannot help but think you might fare better than you believe."
Darcy did not respond, instead inclining his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Mrs. Collins. I appreciate your assistance."
As they spoke, the sound of approaching voices reached them. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam appeared on the path, their pace leisurely. Darcy's chest tightened as he caught fragments of their conversation.
Darcy stiffened, knowing exactly what conversation they had just shared. He could not approach Elizabeth now—not after hearing her express such frustration. Instead, he turned back to Mrs. Collins.
"I must take my leave," he said quickly, his voice clipped. "Please let me know what Miss Bennet says."
Mrs. Collins nodded, her smile fading as she glanced at Elizabeth's approaching form. "Of course, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy retreated, walking briskly toward Rosings.
At tea that afternoon, Darcy sat rigidly in his chair, Lady Catherine's voice droning on about estate matters. Across the room, Elizabeth sat with perfect composure, though her demeanor was unmistakably cool.
Beside him, Mrs. Collins leaned in discreetly, her voice a low murmur. "I spoke with Miss Bennet," she said softly.
Darcy turned slightly toward her, his face carefully neutral. "And?"
"She suggested eucalyptus oil," Mrs. Collins replied. "Her uncle Gardiner has a supply at his warehouse in London. She said it might help with Thomas's breathing."
Darcy nodded, relief mingling with his growing determination. "Did she say how it could be obtained?"
"She mentioned writing to her uncle, but we didn't have time to discuss further. Mr. Collins interrupted, and we had to attend tea."
Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly, frustration flickering across his features. "Thank you," he said curtly.
Mrs. Collins hesitated before adding, "You know, Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth seemed surprised you were inquiring about the health of a tenant family. I think she finds it admirable, though she didn't say so outright."
Darcy's chest tightened. If only she weren't so angry with him, perhaps he could have made further progress. Still, he filed away this small piece of encouragement. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would try again—though the path forward remained as daunting as ever.
Darcy woke with a renewed determination, the same day unfolding yet again. He attended breakfast with the family, offering his usual polite but brief remarks to Lady Catherine and Anne before excusing himself promptly. Saddling his horse, he rode toward the tree where he knew Violet would be climbing, timing his approach carefully to ensure he'd arrive just in time.
The morning air was crisp, the fields around him bathed in soft sunlight. As he neared the familiar spot, he spotted Violet perched high in the branches of the old oak. Her laughter carried on the breeze as she reached for a cluster of leaves just out of her grasp.
Darcy tensed. He knew what came next.
"Violet!" he called, his voice cutting through the stillness.
Startled, she looked down, her footing slipping.
Without hesitation, Darcy urged his horse forward, positioning himself directly beneath her. As she fell, he reached up, catching her in his arms and pulling her safely onto the saddle before his horse came to a halt.
"Violet," he said, his tone firm but gentle as he looked at her wide-eyed face, "you must be more careful."
Her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy. I didn't mean to—"
"It's all right," he interrupted, his voice softening. "But you must promise me you'll stay out of this tree."
"I promise," she said, nodding earnestly.
He sighed, dismounting and setting her gently on the ground. "Let's get you home."
When they reached her family's modest cottage near the edge of the estate, her mother emerged, her face pale with worry. She hurried to them, her hands fluttering as she took Violet from Darcy's arms.
"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know what we'd have done if—" She stopped, shaking her head as tears filled her eyes.
Darcy dismounted, brushing off her gratitude with a quiet, "It was nothing." But as he watched Violet hug her mother tightly, he felt something stir within him.
From inside the cottage came the faint sound of coughing—weak, but persistent. Darcy's attention sharpened, his ears straining toward the sound. A shadow passed over the mother's face, though she quickly masked it with a grateful smile.
"You've met our Violet," she said warmly, "our eldest. She looks after her brothers so well." Her tone softened as she added, "Even little Thomas. He's been poorly this past winter."
Violet glanced back at Darcy, her expression suddenly solemn. "Mama says he'll get better soon," she said, though her voice carried a note of uncertainty. "He just needs time."
Darcy frowned. "Have you consulted the apothecary?"
She hesitated, her hands wringing nervously. "We haven't the means, sir. With my husband injured and the rent overdue, we can barely afford food. The apothecary's remedies are far beyond what we can manage."
He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "Mrs. Collins mentioned that eucalyptus oil might help. Have you ever used it before?"
Mrs. Bendrick shook her head. "No, sir. I've heard of it, but we wouldn't know where to find it, let alone afford it."
"I'll see what I can do," Darcy said, his voice firm.
As he turned to leave, Violet tugged on his sleeve. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said softly, her brown eyes earnest.
He paused, offering her a small nod. "Take care of your brother, Violet. I'll do my best to help him."
Back at Rosings, Darcy sought out Mrs. Collins, finding her in the herb garden. She was trimming rosemary sprigs when he approached, her face brightening at the sight of him.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, brushing dirt from her hands. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I need to ask you about the Bendrick family," Darcy said without preamble. "Their son Thomas is struggling, and they mentioned they can't afford the apothecary."
Mrs. Collins frowned, her hands stilling. "Poor Thomas. I've tried to help them as much as I can—with food and small remedies—but I'm not well-versed enough to treat his condition."
"I was told eucalyptus oil might help," Darcy pressed. "Do you know where it could be obtained?"
Mrs. Collins tilted her head. "Elizabeth might. She told me her uncle Gardiner keeps a supply of such things at his warehouse in London."
"Would you ask her about it?" Darcy asked, keeping his tone even. "I doubt she'd be inclined to speak to me directly."
Mrs. Collins hesitated, studying him for a moment. "You care about this family, don't you?"
Darcy didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, "It's my responsibility to ensure my tenants are cared for."
Mrs. Collins smiled faintly, though there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "Very well. I'll speak to Elizabeth."
Later, during tea, Darcy sat quietly as Lady Catherine's booming voice filled the parlor. The usual topics of conversation—her estate, her opinions, and her superiority—drifted around him like white noise.
Mrs. Collins slipped into a seat beside him, leaning close. "Elizabeth said her uncle Gardiner does indeed have eucalyptus oil. If you can send for it, it may help Thomas."
Darcy inclined his head. "Thank you."
"You should thank Elizabeth," Mrs. Collins murmured. "She's the one who provided the information."
Darcy nodded, though a flicker of tension crossed his features. Elizabeth would not thank him for involving her indirectly, especially not after the conversation she'd had with Fitzwilliam earlier.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, I'll send for the oil.
The morning dawned with an unusual sense of purpose for Darcy. He rose swiftly, foregoing his usual deliberations, and sought out John, his trusted express rider.
"John," Darcy said, his tone firm but measured, "I need you to ride to London immediately. Go to Gardiner Imports and request a vial of eucalyptus oil. Do not return without it. This is of utmost importance."
John, ever reliable, nodded. "Consider it done, sir." Within minutes, the man was off, riding hard toward London as the day unfolded with its predictable rhythms.
Tea at Rosings began precisely as it always did, with Lady Catherine dominating the conversation, her voice carrying over the clink of teacups and rustle of fine china. Darcy sat stiffly, his mind elsewhere. Across the room, Mrs. Collins offered him a subtle nod of encouragement, her expression warm but slightly puzzled.
Just as the second round of tea was being poured, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. John, dusty and breathless, entered the room, clutching a small vial in his hand. Darcy stood immediately, his chair scraping against the floor.
"Mr. Darcy?" Lady Catherine's voice rang out sharply, her eyes narrowing with displeasure.
"I must attend to an urgent matter," he replied curtly, offering a bow before striding toward the door.
Lady Catherine's protests followed him, but he ignored them, stepping outside into the crisp air. His horse was waiting, and with the vial of eucalyptus oil secured, he set off at a brisk pace toward the Bendrick farm.
Inside the Bendrick cottage, the atmosphere was tense and heavy. Little Thomas was struggling to breathe, his tiny chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for air. Mrs. Bendrick sat by his side, her hands trembling as she wiped his face with a damp cloth. Her eyes were red and swollen, her expression one of helpless desperation. Mr. Bendrick hovered nearby, his worry etched deeply into his weathered face. Violet stood close to her brother, her small hand gripping his, her lips pressed into a thin line of determination.
Darcy wasted no time. He stepped into the room, his presence commanding attention. "Mrs. Bendrick," he said, holding out the vial. "This is eucalyptus oil. It can help Thomas breathe. Add a few drops to hot water and have him inhale the steam."
Mrs. Bendrick's eyes widened as she took the vial, her hands shaking. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. We didn't know what else to do—he's been like this for hours."
"There's no need to thank me," Darcy said, already moving to help prepare the remedy. He found a kettle and filled it with water, setting it to boil over the modest hearth.
Within moments, the steaming water was ready. Darcy added the eucalyptus oil, the sharp, clean scent filling the room. They positioned Thomas carefully, and as he inhaled the aromatic vapor, his breathing began to steady. The harsh, wheezing sounds softened, replaced by deeper, more regular breaths.
Mrs. Bendrick let out a sob of relief, pressing her hand to her mouth. "It's working," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, thank God—it's working."
Mr. Bendrick clutched Darcy's arm, his grip firm despite his injury. "You've saved him, sir. We can never repay this kindness."
"There's no repayment needed," Darcy replied, his voice steady but soft. He glanced down at Violet, who was still standing close, her gaze fixed on her brother.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said earnestly, her voice small but strong. "Thomas means everything to us."
Darcy crouched slightly to meet her eye. "He's lucky to have a sister who cares so deeply."
Her face lit up with a shy smile, and for a brief moment, Darcy felt a warmth he hadn't experienced in days.
As he mounted his horse to return to Rosings, Darcy allowed himself a rare flicker of satisfaction. The day had finally brought progress—not just for the Bendrick family, but for himself. Tomorrow, he thought, there would be more challenges, but for now, there was hope.
So what do you think? Darcy managed to get Elizabeth's help without her knowing it. Next Darcy will tackle another problem and will need to find another solution...any guess of what that problem could be?