“Miss Charlotte Lucas, may I present Mr Darcy of a vast estate with heaps of blunt from the Great North! Mr High and Mighty Darcy, my best friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
“Lizzy. That hardly seems proper.”
“I believe the gentleman agrees, so you had best leave this den of impropriety. Perhaps you can discuss it while you dance.”
Hear No Evil(Omniscient)
The sun was less than a hand-span above the eastern horizon when Fitzwilliam Darcy walked around a large leafless oak tree during his morning ramble. He paused, arrested by an odd and unfamiliar sound. To a man who lived on an estate all his life, unidentified noises were few and far between, and often a cause for concern.
He stood about a dozen yards from the white sandstone steps of his friend Bingley’s leased estate, Netherfield. The sound came from a hundred yards to his right. He turned towards the source, only to be blinded by the rising sun. He removed his beaver to block the glare, but his vision had already been overwhelmed, leaving him momentarily sightless. It was a clear autumn day, crisp and cold, with a light, pleasant breeze blowing from the south. There had been no rain for a week, so the drive was clear of mud and debris—a fact his valet would much appreciate.
He concentrated, listening to the rhythm.
Tap… tap… tap… thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… thunk.
The odd tapping noise was regular, repeating a few times, followed by a pause of a few seconds before resuming. His curiosity engaged, he turned toward the sound, peering into the blinding sunlight, listening for the slowly approaching noise. He thought it might be a badly repaired wagon, yet the sound moved much too slowly—unless it was pulled by a mule that had been dead a fortnight. It was even too slow for a walker, so he was most perplexed. He had not quite resolved the source, nor could he quite block enough of the sun to see when the mystery was resolved by a voice.
“You are staring again, Mr Darcy.”
His vision cleared, and he was astonishingly greeted by none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet, walking down the lane looking like a goddess walking out of the sun. She carried a light cane, and the noise arose from her tapping it a few times in a sweeping motion in front of her, followed by a thunk on the fence. She had spoken without slowing, allowing Darcy to observe her progress. The young lady used the cane to check for obstructions, and the fence to ensure she stayed near the edge, stopping every few paces to listen for other dangers.
Surprised by banter that skipped entirely over the usual greetings without giving offence, he took a moment to regain composure enough to answer.
“Miss Elizabeth, what an unexpected pleasure.”
Had there ever been a stupider reply in the history of the English language?It was the best he could do; this woman caught him by surprise more often than not. They had been in company half a dozen times, and his standing in the neighbourhood was vastly improved over what it would have been, entirely due to her efforts. She dragged him around making introductions, prodding him to discussion, steering him to the worthier companions, suggesting those he might avoid, and otherwise instructing him in basic manners for nearly a month.
Miss Elizabeth looked exceedingly lovely that morning, as she always did. She wore a pale-yellow morning dress with a green ribbon tied just below the empire waist, covered by a dark green pelisse open at the front. A straw bonnet with a simple blue ribbon crowned her head. Sturdy, well-tied walking boots peeked from her skirts. A simple necklace was her only jewellery. Her clothing was simple and unadorned, which he imagined was a conscious choice. Was that her style before losing her sight, an acknowledgment of her altered circumstances, or simply the practicality of having less to go wrong? Either way, he foundthe lack of lace, turbans, feathers, and other accoutrements refreshing after so much exposure to overdressed and over-pampered ladies of theton; with the worst example residing a few dozen yards away.
“I have come to see my sister.”
Once again caught off guard, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “On foot! “
A small grin touched her face.Was she as aware of her expressions now that she could no longer see as she had been previously?
“As you see.”
He surmised that was all he would obtain from her without effort, yet he was intrigued to find her abroad so early.
“I beg your pardon. You surprised me, and my tongue ran ahead of my thoughts—which, as you well know—happens from time to time.”
A small giggle escaped the lady. Instead of smothering it, as most were trained to do, she simply enjoyed it. The laugh was neither loud and boisterous, like her younger sisters’, nor stifled in civility, like young ladies were taught in seminary. It was exactly as it sounded: honest.
“I take no offence. I do not imagine you find blind women wandering the lane every day, so it is hardly surprising you are unaccustomed to the tradition.”
Her laugh and small smile brought him unexpected pleasure, and he determined to extend the conversation. “Did you walk all the way from Longbourn?”
The lady moved her cane from sweeping in front of her to a vertical position where she could hold it with less effort, clasping her hands over the top much as he might a walking stick. “Yes sir, it is but three miles.”
Darcy was surprised by the distance, but she immediately eased his mind.
“Be at ease, sir. After receiving Jane’s note last night, I was anxious to see her—well, notseeher per se—but determine if I could alleviate her illness. Mary intended to visit Miss Lucas anyway, so she aided me the first two miles—after I dragged her from bed at dawn by her hair, of course. I have walked this lane only for the last three-quarters of a mile. My father would have sent the carriage, but I prefer the walk. I do not do at all well in carriages.”
Her matter-of-fact tone astonished him. “Three-quarters of a mile alone is a trifle to you?”
