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Part 1: The Gift

Tuesday, October 29, 1811

Elizabeth Bennet

Ientered a shady grove of willows where a vivid carpet of multi-coloured leaves crackled beneath my half-boots. A sudden breeze sent a chill through me, and I adjusted the woollen muffler tighter around my neck.

On a patch of grass adjacent to the lane, a boisterous pair of cawing ravens threw a plaid scrap of fabric back and forth to each other. I paused to spy their game before moving on.

A mournful yowl in the distance brought me to a halt. The wail sounded like a young child—one of our tenant’s babes? I quitted the path and manoeuvred through the brush towards the mewling until I came upon a petite figure seated beneath a silver birch.

The black-haired urchin, who appeared to be no more than five years old, rubbed his ankle, tears staining his cheeks. Upon catching sight of me, he recoiled, trembling, and his dark eyes grew wide.

“Pray do not be alarmed.” I raised my palms. “My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I mean you no harm.” With a smile, I ventured closer. “What is your name?”

“I’m Luke. Luke Greenwood.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Luke.” Ah, he must belong to the Romani family who camped near our eastern border. Papa mentioned them at dinner last week: he had given the family permission to stay on our estate through the winter. My uncle Gardiner had conducted business with Mr. Greenwood and attested to his good character.

I bent at the waist and pointed to his ankle. “Are you injured?”

“Yes; it ’urts terrible.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I was lost, so I climbed the tree to look for our camp. But I fell.”

“Oh, I see. May I inspect your ankle?”

Luke stiffened, yet he nodded and lowered his coarsely-woven stocking to expose his bruised skin.

I crouched and examined the damaged limb. Despite the swelling and discolouration, the foot and joint retained their natural positions. “This appears to be a sprain.” I straightened. “Shall I help you to stand?”

He took my proffered hand, and I raised him upon his sound leg.

Scouring the area around us, I sighted a faint cloud of smoke rising above the trees on the eastern edge of our property, an area without buildings. “Your camp must be in that direction.” I gestured towards the fumes. “I shall take you to your family. Since you cannot walk, I had better carry you. Do you not agree?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the boy nodded. “Yes, I want my mama.” He raised his arms.

I lifted the child and held him the way I used to carry my younger sisters, with his legs straddling my waist. He settled against me with his chin upon my shoulder. Within the first quarter of a mile, my arms ached, and I paused to adjust Luke’s weight more than once. Still, I persisted onwards. By and by, I glimpsed several yellow tents pitched between two large oaks.

“There’s my mama!” Luke pointed to the left, where a short, slender woman of perhaps thirty years strode towards us. “Daj, Daj!1 At Luke’s plaintive cries, her gait increased to a run.

“Luke!” She accosted me with her teeth bared, veins pulsing at her temples. “What’s ’appened to my son?” She reached for him.

I placed Luke into her arms. “He fell from a tree and injured his ankle.”

She patted his back and took on a less stringent posture. “There, there, my lad.” She cocked her head, her stare boring into me. “I’m Mrs. Greenwood. Are you one of the Bennet girls?”

“Yes, I am Miss Elizabeth.”

Mrs. Greenwood nodded. “I thought so. Your father is more generous than most English gentlemen.” A grim-faced dark-haired lad rushed in our direction. He appeared to be eleven or twelve years of age. She handed her son to the elder boy. “Take your brother to our tent.” Luke twisted in his brother’s arms, gave me a shy smile, and waved. I returned the gesture, and the two boys left us.

“Thank you for your ’elp.”

My attention returned to Mrs. Greenwood, who extended her hand to me. I shook it. “You are welcome.” Before I could retract my arm, her fingers tightened around mine, holding me captive for four or five interminable seconds, and a shiver rippled down my back. I almost blurted a demand for her to release me, but then she did so of her own accord. She studied me in a peculiar fashion, as one might a fascinating new insect specimen.

Mrs. Greenwood raised her palm. “Wait ’ere a moment, please.” She walked away and disappeared inside one of the tents.

What could she be doing? I paced upon the grassy ground and fought the inclination to hie back to the house. No, it would be rude to leave, and since my uncle Gardiner had vouched for Mr. Greenwood, I ought to show Mrs. Greenwood the common courtesy I should to any other neighbour.

She came back to me and placed a small pouch in my hand. “I want to repay your kindness today. Pray accept this gift.”