Just as Elizabeth stopped speaking, a noise drew Fitzwilliam’s attention behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mary on the ground. Immediately, he turned back.
Elizabeth heard the same sound, and when Fitzwilliam turned back, so did she.
“Mary!” Picking up her skirts, Elizabeth scurried to her sister. Fitzwilliam got to her first, and as he helped Mary to her feet, Elizabeth grabbed her sister’s free arm. “Are you well? What happened?”
“I tripped on something.” Mary looked over her shoulder. “I do not know what. I suppose I should have glanced up earlier, but by the time I thought about it, I was already falling.” She brushed at her pelisse, knocking some small twigs and leaves off.
“Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth scolded. She began to brush the dirt off her sister’s clothes as she spoke. “You must watch where you walk. I would not wish to see you hurt.” The gown and pelisse as clean as Elizabeth could make them, she stood straight again, pulling her sister into a hug. “You frightened me for a second. Are you certain you are well?”
Mary hugged Elizabeth back. They did not often have these kinds of moments, and Mary was going to enjoy every second of it. “I am, I promise.” When Elizabeth let go and Fitzwilliam handed her book back to her, Mary continued, “I will be more careful in the future. I am sorry for frightening you.” She thanked Fitzwilliam for his assistance and then asked how much further they were going to walk.
“We can turn around now, if you wish, Miss Mary. Is that not correct, Elizabeth?”
“It is indeed! Would you rather we return to Longbourn, Mary?”
“Oh, no! I confess I would enjoy sitting on one of those big rocks while I read. They hold the warmth of the sun so well.”
“Then I say we carry on. Fitzwilliam, do you agree?”
“Absolutely.”
With those words, the trio continued on, spending no short amount of time at the top of Oakham Mount, in conversation and private contemplation.
~~~***~~~
That afternoon, the gentlemen went about the estate and the tenant farms to survey the conditions of the fences, drainage, and so on, and the ladies, Elizabeth included, sewed, adding to the number of items she had in her trousseau. While she worked, Elizabeth pondered her betrothed, and what she knew of him. While she was determined to have him, she still longed for love and wished to know if he was someone she could, eventually, come to feel such a strong emotion for.
He was very kind to Mary today, she thought. And it was not planned. He could not have known she would trip and fall. His concern for her was genuine. She looked at Georgiana, who was diligently applying herself to her sampler, under the guidance of Miss Smith. It was the same care I have seen him give to his own sister. This speaks well of him, I think. He is respectful of his father, but I would expect that from anyone, and, despite his words yesterday morning, he has never treated my mother or sisters with anything other than gentleness and respect. As Papa said in his letter, I already know his character. If he continues on this path, perhaps I will come to love him someday. Satisfied with her conclusions, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the chatter of the other ladies.
They dined as usual, in the evening, and afterwards, as was his wont, Fitzwilliam decided to take one of the horses out for a ride.
“Do not be out long, Son. We have been here for over a week, but the area is unfamiliar.”
“I will stay on the estate. Our travels today have given me a good idea of the direction in which I should go. I do not plan on a long ride; I should be home shortly after dark, I should imagine.”
“Enjoy your ride, then.” Darcy smiled at Fitzwilliam, remembering when he was just of age and keen to be out of doors at all hours.
At the stable, Fitzwilliam chose as his mount one of the geldings used to pull his father’s carriage. He examined the sky as he waited for the groom to saddle the animal, noting the puffy, white clouds to the west and the angle of the sun. I have plenty of time. I think I will go out towards the next estate. What was it called? Oh, yes, Netherfield. Three miles, is what the steward told us is the distance between here and there. Six miles out and back makes for a nice, long ride.
When the gelding was brought out to him, Fitzwilliam mounted, gathering the reins and kicking the horse into motion. He gave the animal its head once they were out of the paddock, enjoying the wind in his face and the exercise that riding afforded. The house at Netherfield Park had just come into view when Fitzwilliam pulled up on the reins to give his horse a breather. Realizing he had ridden further than he had planned, he decided to walk the animal around the house proper, to let it rest a bit, before heading back to Longbourn. He had completed half the circuit when he noticed that the sky, which had become darker the longer he was out, was suddenly spitting rain. Deciding that he had best make his way back, he nudged the horse into a trot and steered it in the direction of Longbourn. Or so he thought.
With the rain coming down in sheets and the thick clouds obscuring whatever light there was, Fitzwilliam could not see the landmarks he had noted on his way out. He did not know how long he had travelled. He had been forced to allow the gelding to slow to a walk due to the lack of visibility, and both he and the animal were thoroughly drenched. Fitzwilliam, though not the sort to worry unnecessarily about his own safety, began to be concerned. Besides being incredibly uncomfortable, there was the danger of catching a cold, and one never knew when a cold would turn into something worse. Too, he knew his father would worry, as would Elizabeth.
Eventually deciding that he must be travelling in circles, Fitzwilliam decided he needed to find shelter, at least until the storm ended.
~~~***~~~
No one at Longbourn thought much about the length of time Fitzwilliam had been gone, until the skies suddenly opened up, drowning the paddock in water within seconds.
“Oh, my! Why a person could almost swim in that.” Kitty had her nose pressed to the window, trying to see through the downpour. “I hope young Mr. Darcy has found shelter.”
Dropping her sewing onto the table beside her, Elizabeth stood and strode to the window. “I hope so, as well.” She stared through the glass with an uneasy feeling. “He is an excellent rider, and he told me he is accustomed to being out in the worst of conditions. I am sure he has found shelter somewhere or other.” Her words were as much for her own comfort as for her sister’s, and so she repeated them to herself as she resumed her seat and took up her sewing once more.
An hour later, it was full dark. The rain had not abated, though there had been periods when it was not quite as heavy. Gardiner and Darcy entered the room, making themselves comfortable as they waited for Fitzwilliam to return.
“He said he would be back just after dark; he could walk in at any minute.” Darcy was also uneasy, but he knew his son would have taken shelter as soon as possible.
Elizabeth was comforted by his words, though she refused to admit, even to herself, that she was worried. She applied herself to her needle and thread, taking part in the sporadic conversation occurring between the few people in the room.
Soon, the sisters began taking their leave to retire for the night. The comments that had already been sporadic became more tense, and dwindled down to almost nothing. First one, then another would check their watch or glance at the clock on the mantel. Darcy and Elizabeth took to pacing the room or staring out the window into the blackness, attempting to see through the rain that still fell heavily, hoping for a bit of moonlight to reflect off Fitzwilliam’s wet boots or stirrup.
As Elizabeth kept her vigil, her mind refused to focus on anything but her betrothed. Thoughts began to creep into her mind, thoughts that challenged her usually cheerful demeanour. She began to worry in earnest; where was he? Was he safe? Did he find shelter? If so, what kind? Was he dry? Would he catch a cold?
From there, her thoughts turned darker. She began to think about what would happen if Fitzwilliam died, either out in the storm or because he became ill from it. As the clock ticked off each minute and gonged each hour, her increasingly morbid thoughts brought an ache to her heart.
Finally, as the clock chimed one in the morning, Gardiner spoke. “I fear Fitzwilliam will not return until daylight.”
Darcy agreed. “He has likely found shelter somewhere.”
“I propose we not wait for him to return. Instead, we should sleep as much as we can, and begin searching at first light. He is unfamiliar with the area, and even were he to merely wander about the tenant farms, he could become lost.”
“You are correct, of course. It is a sensible plan.” He turned to Elizabeth and held out his hand. “Come, my dear, I will escort you up.”
Before she took it, she blurted out her worries. “Do you think he is well? Maybe one of us should remain here, in case he finds his way back in the night.” Elizabeth felt her tightly controlled emotions begin to unravel.
Stepping towards her and stopping directly before her, Darcy took both her hands in his own. “He has found a hole to crawl in, I promise you. Fitzwilliam used to worry his mother the same way, but he takes too much enjoyment in being out in the elements to stop. He knows what to do to keep himself safe. He is well. I promise you that. He would not want you to stand at the window and fret all night. He will have something to say, I am certain, should he see you in the morning looking less than your best. He might even accuse us of neglecting your welfare.” Darcy’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Will you not go to your chambers to save me from the wrath of my son?”
Swallowing and so worried that she completely missed Darcy’s tease, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, sir.” With a last look at the window, she allowed herself to be escorted up the stairs and to her room.
Elizabeth refused to undress completely, remaining in her chemise and stockings. She climbed into the bed and thought some more about Fitzwilliam and his situation. She began to pray that he was well, and that he wouldd come back whole and healthy. Suddenly, it occurred to her that there was a reason for her uncharacteristic worry. I love him! When did this happen? Memories of their walks and the tenderness he had displayed towards her and their sisters flooded her mind, and she realized that she had been falling in love with him since the day they met. Probably before, she thought. Papa, you are a sly one, reading those letters to me.