Lydia turned eyes wide in alarm to Miss King, whose typically ruddy complexion had gone quite pale. “Mary, you had better watch yourself! You know you are not always careful, and you do not have a Mama like mine to advise you!”
Mary King’s pretty little mouth fell open in some outrage. “I, not careful! How dare you say such a thing to me, Lydia Bennet?”
“Well, it is only the truth, you know, and with an inheritance such as yours, that awful colonel will be after you! La, he is so old! I cannot imagine!”
Mary King fumed impotently. Wickham was smiling with something of a mystified expression. “What can she mean, Miss King? Have you some means which might tempt the colonel? Forgive me. I had no idea. I never think of such things myself. Love, you see, is beyond price. I do exhort you, however, to please be cautious, for my sake, should the colonel return to town. I know for a fact that he has already attempted to seduce one heiress, and it was a lucky thing for her that her brother found them out when he did.”
Mary King, trembling a little that anyone could treat a young lady in such a dastardly fashion, touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. “Do… do you know who the poor girl was, Mr Wickham?”
“Why, certainly. It was Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
Chapter 21
“MrDarcy,mayIpresent Mr Jeremiah Brown and his wife, Susan.” Elizabeth stood just ahead of him near the open doorway, a calculating little smile on her face.
Darcy drew a deep breath. If this was a test, he was determined to pass. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance, sir. Miss Bennet speaks very highly of you.”
Mr Brown’s expression lit in shy felicity. He looked hesitantly to Elizabeth. Clearly, he was comfortable with her presence. Still, the eminent Mr Darcy’s reputation went before him, and the modest farmer could never have expected the prestigious gentleman to appear on his own doorstep. He was not quite certain what civilities might be expected. Hobbling on a little crutch, he backed into his humble abode, gesturing invitingly to the gentleman. “Do, please suhr, come i’ ou’ o’ the weather.”
“Thank you.” Darcy removed his hat and ducked his tall frame inside the door. “This seems a very comfortable house,” he complimented his hostess, casting his eyes about the family’s cosy arrangements. A gaggle of small children in the corner caught his interest. “Hullo! What have we here?” he smiled kindly down at the farmer’s little brood. He directed his attention to the oldest of the lot, a boy of about ten. “My name is Darcy. What is yours?”
The lad’s eyes darted hesitantly to his father, but he plucked up his courage. He stood to greet the gentleman properly as he had been taught. “Willy, suhr.”
Darcy’s eyes rose briefly to Elizabeth’s as she had come to stand near the children. “A very fine name, my boy,” he smiled.
“‘T’was after me grandpapa, suhr,” the boy answered proudly. “Tha’s me sister Millie and me brother Jack.”
Darcy greeted the younger two, both looking to be about four or five. Millie immediately grasped his finger and giggled. Mrs Brown started in embarrassment, meaning to pull her daughter from the gentleman, but he assured her politely that he had no objections to the children. The youngest two gathered about his legs in friendly awe.
“Come, William,” Elizabeth suggested gently, extending her hands to the younger children. “Will you show me how your little peahens are coming along?” She glanced up at Darcy by way of explanation. “One of the neighbours had an unseasonably late brood, and they thought young William here would make a fine gamekeeper,” she winked. Whether it was that bold gesture or her easy employment of the child’s name, Darcy’s heart flipped again.
Her gaze returned to the children as she ushered them toward the door. “They must have grown so much since last week! Have they been keeping warm enough?” Elizabeth chatted amicably with the children as she led them out to a little soddy near the house, leaving Darcy gaping behind her. He stared at her back until after the door had closed, then shook himself. He turned again to the farmer and his wife.
“Taik a seat, please suhr,” Mr Brown offered. The man’s wife came to him, and the small party all sat, occupying most of the furniture in the little house. “Mr Darcy, I know wha’ this is abou’.” The man’s head hung, his bearing resigned to his fate. “Me rent. I canna’ maik i’, I know. How soon must w’all be out?”
Darcy shook his head. “You mistake me, sir. Miss Bennet has asked my advice in resolving the affair while her father is indisposed, but it is not for me to decide anything. I believe the family’s intentions are to find a workable solution that will keep your family in good security while recompensing the estate. It is Miss Bennet’s wish to settle the matter in Mr Bennet’s lifetime, rather than leaving things to the heir of Longbourn to decide.”
“Aye. I taik yer meanin’, suhr.” Mr Brown nodded, a faint hope flickering again on his face.
“To that end,” Darcy went on, “it was my hope to learn something of your experience. How long have you been a tenant here at Longbourn?”
“A’ me life, suhr. Me father was old Samuel Bennet’s arb’rist, and he tau’ me a’ ‘e knew.”
“Arborist? How is it you became a farmer instead?”
Mr Brown shifted hesitantly. “Th’estate, y’see suhr… Mrs Bennet dinn’ see any point to the fancy orch’rds whe’ Mr Bennet brou’ ‘er ‘ere. Waste o’ money, she ca’ed it, keepin’ an arb’rist on. Says the trees’l make fruit on their own. Now i’s jest the season’l ‘help as is required.” He shrugged, masking his disappointment with what surely had been a tremendous blow to his livelihood. Darcy’s lips thinned. He wondered what the current Mrs Bennet had found to be a better use of the estate’s funds. “Farmin’ suited me a’most ‘s well,” Mr Brown added with forced cheer.
“And so…” Darcy shifted his tall frame uncomfortably in the little seat, “I suppose you are indeed familiar with the curious little orchard in the hollow, near the edge of the Longbourn property. Your father must have had some hand in its management, though it has gone quite wild now. I have some interest in that persimmons tree. Tell me, if you can, is it possible to take a start of such a tree? I should like to know how it would fare in my conservatory.”
“Oh, I wouldna’ do tha’, suhr,” the man shook his head with authority. “Tha’ tree, i’ likes the cold i’ does. It’d never thrive in a conservatory… beggin’ your pardon, suhr.”
“Indeed?” Darcy raised an eyebrow in interest. “Cold we have aplenty in Derbyshire. Is it possible to graft the tree?”
“Aye, suhr, tha’d be the best way. Tricky, those persimmons trees are, ‘till a man gets ‘em started.” He went on to elaborate some of the difficulties his father had had in propagating young starts from the tree and what they had learned. Darcy listened raptly as the man humbly expounded upon his knowledge.
At about this time, a crisp snowy breeze blew Elizabeth and the children back through the door, little flecks of white shimmering on their outer clothing. Elizabeth’s smile was fresh and radiant, full of life, and it reflected in the rosy cheeks of the children. Darcy felt his breath leave him once again. Oh, to have this joy for his own! He stood, helplessly drawn near to her. Her vibrant face turned up to his, and he watched in mesmerized fascination as the last snowflake melted off the tip of her nose.
Mr Brown cleared his throat. “I thaink you for ca’ing on us, Mr Darcy and Miss ‘Liz’beth. As it is though, I s’pect it’d be best if you get to back to th’ ‘ouse soon, bein’ on foot and a’. I’d hait to see Miss ‘Liz’beth taik cold.”
