Apprehension and Desire: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (37 page)

“It is Mr. Cowlishaw.”

“Who is he?”

“Our neighbour. He breeds horses.”

“A farmer?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, and a very prosperous one, I hear. He is a widower and has the three most adorable little daughters. His wife died in childbirth.”

Amy shifted the baby on her arm to see the couple better and narrowed her eyes. “Jane smiles at him a lot.”

Elizabeth lowered her voice. “I think that she likes him. She is usually rather reserved with men, not showing her true feelings to them.”

“She gives him an encouragement then?”

“I believe so. I saw how she smiled quite openly at him the other day when we saw him in Lambton.”

“I wonder if he would be bold enough to ask for her hand,” Amy mused. “Jane is the daughter of a gentleman, after all.”

Elizabeth peered at her sister and Mr. Cowlishaw who were walking towards them unhurriedly. “Mr. Cowlishaw is a mature man who knows what he wants, and it seems to me that is exactly why my sister likes him.”

“I hope that she realizes that a farmer may expect more from her as far as household duties are concerned than someone from her own social background,” Amy noted.

Elizabeth frowned. “Do you think so?” she hesitated, “He hires a housekeeper and other servants, so I do not expect he would want her to actually clean or cook. Besides, Jane knows her own mind at this point. She is of age, and though she would wish for our parents’ blessing, she will act in the way she considers the best for her future happiness.”

The conversation was stopped because Mr. Cowlishaw and Jane approached them.

“Mrs. Darcy.” He bowed. He must have heard who Amy was, because he placed another deep bow in front of her. “I came to see your husband. I have some news from Lambton which I think should interest him.”

“He is in the study,” Elizabeth explained with kind smile. “Jane, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Cowlishaw the way.”

***

Elizabeth ran the brush through her hair a few last times, put the brush away on her vanity and walked to the bed. She removed her robe and slippers and slipped under the covers.

William sat silently, his back supported against the pillows, his dark brow furrowed.

“You have been distracted the entire evening,” Elizabeth said as she snuggled against her husband’s side.

Darcy brought her closer, his arm tightening around her, and he kissed the top of her head.

“What is troubling you?” she asked after a moment.

His only response was a sigh.

“Tell me,” She stroked his stomach, knowing he liked that. “You will feel better.”

“Do you remember how I told you about that tenant who neglected his farm because of heavy drinking? I considered terminating his lease and finding someone different for his place.”

Elizabeth frowned in recollection. “Yes, I do remember. Kirby is his name, am I correct?”

“Yes, that is him/he.”

“Was he the reason for Mr. Cowlishaw’s visit today?”

Darcy nodded. “Cowlishaw heard him to speak loudly of how I mistreated him. Kirby threatened me, us, the Darcys, in the public house in Lambton. ”

Elizabeth lifted on her arm. “What sort of threats?”

“I should not have told you that,” he said regretfully.  “I only scared you.”

She shook her head. “Of course you should, and I am not scared, just worried. What came into that man to tell such tales in the public place in Lambton? Do you think he intends to act on this?”

“No, of course not, sweetheart. ” Darcy’s voice was calm as he hugged her closer. “He would have to be mad, and he has no means to fulfil his threats, but, still, it requires my taking some decided actions towards him. I hear that his wife left him, returned to her family, but still I do not want to throw him out of the house in the middle of the winter.” A frustrated groan escaped him, his fingers tightening on her rounded arm, “I do not understand. I was always fair to him, same as to the others.”

“Some people are just not willing to work hard and live a good life,” Elizabeth pointed out, her voice calm. “You cannot change him.  Even worse, trying to help him, you can only harm yourself.”

Darcy sighed. “This situation reminds me of Wickham.”

“I believe that in dealing with such people, the most important rule is to protect yourself, and the others as well, from their bad influence. You did talk to him and wanted to give him a chance on the condition he would stop drinking.”

“You are right,” he agreed, his voice firmer. “I need to be more decisive about this.  I cannot show weakness now.”

“What will you do?”

He hesitated, “I do not know yet.  Perhaps I will need to remove him from the cottage using force. I just need a few days to prepare everything.”

“Nobody will think that you are doing wrong or any injustice to him.” Elizabeth assured, “Everyone here knows you as a compassionate and fair Master.”

Darcy was still tense, so she shifted her position and drew him to her, cradling him in her arms. “Do not think about it now. Your worrying cannot change anything, and it will only add to your overall exhaustion. Just close your eyes.” She touched his face gently. “Try to rest.”

He buried his head into her midsection, his eyes closed. “My Lizzy,” he whispered, as she kept stroking him.

***

Joseph Cowlishaw was on his way back home from Lambton where he had unsuccessfully tried to hire new servants . He was again left without a housekeeper. The one sent  from Pemberley last summer had left a few days ago, taking along her niece, who had served as both maid and nanny to the girls. He was well aware that he could not go on like that for much longer without help. Girls required attention, and the right upbringing, and he was too busy to take proper care of them. He needed to remarry soon. A very young girl was out of question. He wanted a more mature woman, sensible, and with experience running a household and bringing up children.

He had been looking around the neighbourhood for the right candidate, and there were two stately, childless widows who he knew would accept his offer. They seemed decent enough, but he dreaded to trust them with the girls. Neither did he feel attracted to either of them; he could not imagine taking those women to his bed.

Mrs. Darcy’s sister was a totally different matter. With her, he would have no trouble fulfilling his marital duties. On the contrary, he would have been barely able to hold till the night time to bed her. She would have very little sleep as his wife. What a woman she was. He had never in his life seen such a beauty. She could pose as an angel. He was surprised that Darcy had chosen the little dark-haired woman of his instead of her elder sister, but love was blind, they said, and the Master of Pemberley was certainly in love with his wife, any man could see that.

Joe was not a fool, and he knew that Darcy’s sister-in-law was far beyond his reach. Although, he had heard from a good source that Mrs. Darcy, though the daughter of the landed gentleman, had no dowry to speak of. It explained why Jane Bennet had not married so far, because he could not believe that there had not been at least several men who had been seriously interested in her. He had talked to her twice so far and had seen her once in Lambton where she had been with her sister and Miss Darcy. She had smiled at him across the street that day, and he had felt her favour for him; he had no doubt about that. However, he knew her too little to be sure of the sincerity of her intentions, and he had to be cautious. There was always a possibility that she simply toyed with him. Darcy could easily acquaint her with his well connected and wealthy friends. Why should such a beautiful woman, almost a goddess, have any reason to choose him, a farmer, over some landlord, perhaps even a titled one? Such things did not happen.

Contrary to his private life, his business had done surprisingly well in recent years. Financially, he could certainly afford to marry Miss Bennet and even ensure her all the comforts she was used to, like nice clothes and home servants so she did not have to cook, wash and scrub the floors like his first wife had done at the beginning when he had been less affluent. His first marriage had been for practical reasons - his parents had chosen his wife, and he had cared for Janet in his own way and mourned her loss. It seemed that his second union would be very much the same, only worse, because how could he develop feeling for this or that widow with the embodiment of his dreams and desires living a few miles away? He shook his head. He had to be realistic; he had three daughters to raise, and that should be his goal. On the other hand, Jane Bennet was perfect for the girls, as she would have made real ladies out of them. Who could teach them better how to behave and speak in polite society than a gentleman’s daughter?

He was so deeply lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed that it became almost completely dark. His horse knew the way home so well that he did not have to direct him.  It had been snowing lightly for the last days, and the thin layer of white down covered the ground. Breathing the cold, northern wind, he was sure that this night they would have a snow storm. In the morning, the girls would be delighted with the snow banks around the house to play in.

He kicked the animal into a faster pace when he thought to see something that moved, across the pasture. A figure of a rider… galloping?  He narrowed his eyes and lifted in the saddle to see better. Abruptly, the horse stopped before the stone wall which bordered Pemberley from his land. He could see little through the thick snowfall, but the rider must have been thrown down.

He turned off the road and rode hard across the pasture, in the direction where he thought the man should lie, as there was no sign of the his horse, thatwhich had probably run away. After half a mile, he thought he saw a shape on the ground. It was barely visible because it was already covered with a fresh layer of snow.

When he was close enough, he could see the it was a definitely a woman. He dismounted in one practiced movement and ran to the unmoving figure. She was lying with her face to the ground, no head covering, long hair cascading down her back. When he turned her gently, his heart froze.

“What are you doing here?” He touched her face. It was bruised around the lips as if someone had slapped her, and she had a large bump just emerging on her forehead, probably acquired from the fall from the horse. “Miss Bennet, do you hear me?”

She did not answer, and the next words he murmured more to himself. “You should be at Pemberley… I do not understand. What happened? Who hurt you?”

He put his head to her breasts, feeling her heart beat, slow but steady. He put her back on the ground to examine whether she had anything broken. But no, her strong, slim limbs seemed sound.

He gave a low whistle, and his horse stepped closer. He removed his overcoat and wrapped it around her. He picked her up and lifted her onto the horse, mounting quickly behind her before she managed to slip to the ground.

He checked whether she was well bundled and kicked his horse hard. “Hold on.” he whispered as they rode through the blizzard.

At first Joe thought to take her to Pemberley, but then he reconsidered and turned to his own home. His farm was much closer, just a mile or so, while Pemberley more than eight miles from the place where he found her. She should be in the warmth as soon as possible. Besides, he would have her at his home for a few hours at least and, judging  by the worsening weather, till tomorrow morning.

When he entered the house, carrying his foundling in his arms, the girls, waiting for his return downstairs, surrounded them, asking dozens of questions. He hushed them quiet and ran up the stairs straight to his bedroom.

He shut the door behind and very gently put her on his bed, which was the only furniture in the spacious chamber. In a minute, he had built up the big fire. He lit the candles and returned to her. She had not moved; she lay as he had left her.

He knew that he needed to remove her clothes to check whether she was   in danger of frostbite or had not experienced something worse than slapping on the face, not to mention that staying in those numerous wet skirts would surely give her a serious cold or, even worse, pneumonia.

It took him some time to remove all the layers, his overcoat, her own perhaps fashionable, but rather thin, coat, her long sleeved dress. He was surprised to see that underneath she was nearly completely covered. To be sure a lady’s undergarments much differed from what his late wife had donned. She had several white skirts and a sort of girdle hugging her midsection, which was, at first, tricky to remove. He gulped when she was left just in a half transparent chemise, giving him a perfect view of her full breasts. He touched the material. It was damp too, so he lifted her up, supporting her on his arm to remove it. Her lovely upper body was completely naked, and  for a long moment, he just stared  at her. It was hard to force his attention down. When her shoes and stockings were off, he freed her from three skirts, and, to his astonishment, he found one more unusual garment, the knee length white pants decorated with pink ribbons. He had never heard about anything like these on a woman. Probably it was some new fashion to wear on colder days. They were perfectly dry, and there was no sign of tearing or blood on them, which meant that she had not been worse degraded. There was plainly visible a triangle of soft looking curls in the front  of the garment. He lifted her leg gently to the side and gasped; the pants were crotch less. Who the devil had invented something like that for a woman to wear? He felt himself growing very hot; the hair over her womanhood seemed a few tones darker than the pale, sunny blonde on her head.