Elizabeth placed her brush on the small stand beside her easel. What she wanted to do was throw it into the lake she was currently attempting to paint. Despite a love of art of all sorts Elizabeth never had much of desire to learn them herself. She had pointed that out to Mary last week when her sister proposed they attempt some drawing together on a rainy-day. Mary then threw Lizzy's own words back in her face.
"Though I am not especially talented at any visual art I do enjoy the effort and believe that all it takes to develop a modicum of competence is determination and a good teacher," Mary said with a slight smile.
Though delighted that her shy sister was attempting the art of teasing by parroting back Elizabeth's own words to get her way Elizabeth was not well pleased with the result. That being an afternoon spent attempting to draw the Gardiner's very plump tabby cat, Whiskers. When Mary presented her incredibly lifelike drawing at dinner the family exclaimed and praised her. Mary insisted Elizabeth show hers as well.
"And what was your subject?" Mr. Barlow asked.
"Can you not guess?" Elizabeth responded – knowing full well that her drawing did not at all resemble the rotund feline. Or anything at all.
"A pillow?" Mrs. Gardiner offered.
"No."
"A pile of leaves?" Mr. Barlow tried.
By this time Mary was having trouble holding in her giggles.
"Shall you not defend my work, sister?" Elizabeth asked, her voice accusatory. "It was you who insisted on the activity."
"I know and I probably should apologize but I cannot," Mary said. "It was still a useful exercise, and I am certain you learned a great deal and will be even better next time."
"Next time?!" Elizabeth retorted.
Aunt Gardiner agreed, "even if we cannot master a task the effort will yield fruit."
"Fruit!" Mr. Gardiner exclaimed, "it is a bowl of fruit."
"It is not," the sisters answered at once.
"Then what?" Mr. Barlow asked.
"I drew the same thing as Mary. It is Whiskers. Can you not see his eyes here," she pointed to the two swirls which were more in the centre than at the top of the circular shape.
"Of course, now I see it, "Mrs. Gardiner said, staring intently at the amorphous grey-black shape. "I see a mouse in her . . . mouth? Yes, quite creative."
Lizzy pulled the paper back to examine it herself. "No, that is her paw or maybe paws," then she sighed and lamented, "I am hopeless."
Though reluctant to agree the family had few truthful protests to offer and so the subject was changed. They would likely have a similar reaction to her painting of Pemberley's lake. It was really just several streaks of blue running together underneath a roundish yellow spot. Lizzy stepped back from her less than Master-piece and turned her face to feel the heat of the real yellow spot.
Georgiana and Mary had set up on a small hill to Elizabeth's right. They both seemed to be working diligently, occasionally admiring the other's progress but for the most part focusing on their paintings which, even from her vantage point Elizabeth could tell were far superior to her own.
Deciding she had reached the end of her very limited abilities in rendering the scene before her Elizabeth removed her smock and made her way down to the lake's edge. She was glad Mary and Georgiana were enjoying the activity and each other's company and though she had no real interest in becoming an accomplished painter Elizabeth did enjoy being good at things. Therefore, it chaffed ever so slightly that she was a complete failure at both artistic mediums she had tried.
She found a small bench which had been placed at the edge of field that abutted the lake shore. When she sat down Lizzy heard the tinkling of water and saw a small stream a few feet to her left which slipped from the nearby wood, down a small cluster of rocks and into the lake from just enough of a height to produce a lovely melody. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her cheeks. As she inhaled, she smelled lilacs and looked to see the lavender flowers hanging in full bloom from dozens of bushes which lined the shore on the opposite side of the stream.
The fragrant flower was one she had not seen before this summer. She imagined they must grow near her home as well as in other places around Derbyshire, but her first encounter with them had been two weeks earlier strolling in Pemberley's far garden while Georgiana and Mary took tea with Mrs. Baxter. None of those ladies wanted to venture out so soon after the drenching rain they had experienced early that morning. It rained all night continuing until just before the Bennet sisters had walked to Pemberley. For Mary that two-mile journey on a muddy path was more than sufficient to satisfy any desire to be out of doors. For Georgiana and Mrs. Baxter the site of the girls soiled boots was sufficient to satisfy them as to the disadvantages of an outdoor ramble. But they all insisted Elizabeth enjoy the gardens on her own, after declining her suggestion that they all go out.
Mrs. Reynolds had taken Lizzy's boots upon arrival, and they were now dry and clean. Elizabeth slipped them on and promised the others she would not be long. All were sufficiently acquainted with her to doubt this. Other than the brief hour in the morning when Mary and she had made their way to Pemberley, it had been raining nearly non-stop for three days. Elizabeth did not like to be kept indoors for so long and her friends knew this.
The cloud-streaked sky was filled with dots of orange and yellow. The muted light touched the tops of the tallest trees lining the garden path. Chasing the filtered sunshine Elizabeth turned down a path she had not walked before. After a few steps the most delightful scent she had ever encountered reached her. Nose first, she sought the source and was soon in a cluster of green-leafed bushes – each covered in clusters of light purple blossoms. Gently she pulled one to her nose to inhale its scent. The soft pedals tickled her skin as she breathed in the fragrance.
So enchanted was she with the sight and scent of this new flower that Lizzy did something she might never have done before – failed to notice the presence of Fitzwilliam Darcy. The gentleman had been sitting on one of the two stone benches at the centre of this particular copse of trees and bushes. Though a book lay beside him he had paid it little mind and had instead of reading been pondering a particularly challenging matter Pemberley's steward had laid before the Darcy men earlier that day. He had not noticed Lizzy's entrance until she stood, several feet to his right, hands cupping a lilac blossom, smiling in delight.
Darcy had not yet seen Elizabeth this summer. He knew from Georgina that she and a younger sister had arrived the previous week, but he had been busy with estate business the other two times she had called and had been at Matlock for several days visiting his cousin Stephen when his family hosted hers for dinner at Pemberley. He was surprised at the burst of pleasure he felt on seeing her. Though it was not so astonishing, she was an intelligent, charming girl who was the best friend his beloved sister had ever had. Of course he was pleased to see her.
"Are lilacs a favourite flower of yours, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked, by way of alerting her to his presence.
Lizzy jumped a foot in the air, but then nearly forgot her shock as in her jerky reaction she had ripped the bloom from its branch. It now lay at her feet – the tiny flowers crushed on one side.
"Oh no," Lizzy knelt to retrieve the fallen flower.
"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you." The voice came from right beside her and this was enough to startle her once more. This time, in her surprised response, Elizabeth bumped into Fitzwilliam and knocked them both over.
"Mr. Darcy, I am so sorry," Lizzy exclaimed as he righted himself, coming to his knees beside her before offering her his hand. She took it and they both rose. After taking a moment to smooth her dress, calm her racing heart and catch her breath Elizabeth looked up at her companion.
"It is entirely my fault," he declared. Her previous work at returning her heartbeat and breathing to normal levels was immediately undone by the familiar and thrilling site of Fitzwilliam Darcy's almost smile and sparkling brown eyes aimed right at her.
Focusing her gaze over his shoulder and uttering a prayer that her voice would not give away the legion of butterflies consuming her entire being, she responded. "Although I am glad to allocate the blame entirely to you, I am curious as to how you drew that conclusion."
"I saw what damage you would inflict on a pour defenceless flower when startled. I then proceeded to place myself in harm's way and frighten you again."
"I was not frightened," she protested.
"Of course not. That was a poor choice of words. I should be quite put out if you were scared of me."
"I could never be," she declared, looking up at him. Even as she told herself to look away, that no good could come of it – like staring directly into the sun – she could not avert her gaze. Though he said nothing, a curiosity seemed to bloom in Darcy's eyes and after a moment he opened his mouth, but it was Georgiana's voice they heard. They looked toward the sound which came from somewhere beyond the bushes in the direction of the house.
"Lizzy, please come quickly."
Darcy and Elizabeth looked back at one another for a moment then turned and hastened toward the sound. They found Georgiana, about to take a path in the wrong direction, calling for Elizabeth once more.
"Georgiana, I am here. What is the matter?"
"It is Mary." Came the answer, and as Georgiana drew in a breath Elizabeth imagined all manner of catastrophes that could have happened. "She has fallen. We were so frightened. I have never seen anything like that."
"Fallen, where? Is she conscious? Where is she hurt? Who is with her? Has a doctor been summoned?" Elizabeth fired these questions at her friend even as she moved toward the closest entrance to the house.
Struggling to keep up Georgiana gave her breathless answers as the threesome burst through the French doors and into a formal sitting room. "No, she is well. It is only her ankle. Mrs. Baxter thinks it likely a sprain, but she is in ever so much pain and though she would not say it – wanted you with her as we wait for Mr. Adams, Lambton's apothecary."
Georgiana led them through the room, down the hall and into a small parlour Lizzy had not seen before. Once inside Elizabeth saw Mary, seated on a small couch with her left leg elevated on a mountain of pillows. Tears streamed down her face, though she made no sound. Miss Baxter knelt beside her murmuring words of comfort. When the newcomers entered Mary's gaze snapped to the door.
"Lizzy," she cried. "Oh Lizzy."
Elizabeth rushed to her sister's side, Mrs. Baxter quickly made way.
"Oh my darling, I am so sorry you are hurt, all will be well. I promise. I am here. I will not leave you."
"Thank you, Lizzy. I am so sorry to cause all of this fuss."
"Nonsense," Elizabeth said, wiping Mary's tears with her handkerchief. "You cause all the fuss you can – you have earned it."
"If you insist," Mary tried to smile, but it became a wince. She turned and sobbed into her sister's shoulder. Lizzy wrapped Mary up in her arms and continued to offer words of reassurance. Behind her Elizabeth heard Darcy quietly address his sister, "do not worry, dear one, she will be well. You were right to fetch Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps sometime soon we could have a conversation about how to deliver news such as this so as not to create the most panic possible."
Even as Mary's tears soaked the sleeve of her gown, and she worried over her sister's injury this made Elizabeth smile.