Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

T he alarm such a proclamation had on the two men in her company could not have been more different. Mr Collins shrieked and scrabbled about as if to hide himself within the rowboat. Mr Darcy, however, stood and moved swiftly between her and the intruder.

"No witches lurk here, only crows and dragons, Mr Goulding," Elizabeth called out to the tall dripping figure. "But do shut the door before a bedraggled enchantress can slip in."

"Lizzy Bennet?"

Mr Henry Goulding followed her instructions, closing the door firmly behind him, shaking the rain off of his hat, and joining her and Mr Darcy on the bench. She was pleased to see him, as he was among the friendliest of her neighbours. She introduced him as best she could to Mr Darcy and Mr Collins, and explained the secret childhood greeting they had shared with his brother and the Lucas children when playing in the neighbourhood's outbuildings. " Our castles and pirate hideaways," she said, laughing.

Although Mr Collins was appalled at the notion of children speaking of such evils, Mr Darcy approved. "It is the way of children. My cousins and I had similar nonsensical passwords and vows."

"It is the way of Miss Elizabeth," said Mr Goulding. "She invented many of our games."

She felt Mr Darcy's scrutiny, and turned the conversation back to her friend. "How is it you are here, on Longbourn's borders?"

Mr Goulding explained he had been cutting across a field on his way from Haye-Park to visit his betrothed at Purvis Lodge when the rain left him uncertain of his whereabouts. "I thought I was nearer Netherfield and able to duck into one of the follies, but I knew the direction to the boat-house and that your father always left it unlocked."

"That is because the key rests somewhere below us, in the water, where it was dropped by one of my sisters."

"In a fit of pique, as I recall, over another sister losing her favourite bonnet while out in the boat."

"An unchristian act," mumbled Mr Collins.

"What is the distance between Purvis Lodge and Haye-Park?" Mr Darcy enquired.

"Six miles by road, but only four if I take the shortcut."

"Too far when one is in love," said Elizabeth. "Mr Goulding is to marry Miss Welby, the eldest daughter at Purvis Lodge."

Mr Goulding chuckled. "I am pleased she accepted me. Miss Elizabeth turned down my proposal, made some ten or twelve years ago, when we were children. I was certain our shared affinity for skipping stones and catching frogs meant true love."

Elizabeth could feel Mr Darcy inhale sharply but dared not glance to see whether he was amused or offended. Mr Goulding continued elaborating on her youthful follies.

"John Lucas was equally misguided and proposed when she was sixteen and him scarcely three years older," he said, chuckling. "Mr Bennet said she was too young and Lucas too green and advised him to return to school. He's got over it, spending his time now in London."

Mr Darcy looked at her in wonder. "Two proposals?"

"Three," said Mr Collins. Abhorrence was clear in his voice. "I, too, have offered my hand to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, an offer that now bears further rumination and prayerful reflection as I am shocked to learn of her forward behaviour."

"Sir, you have twice importuned me, and my answer remains as it was the first time." Elizabeth made a face at Mr Goulding. "I am certain you wonder at our presence here. Mr Darcy came upon us as I refused my cousin a second time. It began to rain, Mr Collins fell and injured himself, and we sought shelter here."

Mr Goulding chuckled. "Lizzy Bennet, breaker of hearts and hope. Yet another would-be husband you have not given the answer he seeks."

"No," she said, shrugging before glaring towards her cousin, "but he persists."

"Persistence is the mark of a stoic soul!"

"Or a man who cannot accept that a woman does not wish to be his wife," said Mr Darcy in a stern voice. "You must stand down."

"I am sitting, as you said!" Mr Collins made an odd sound. "I feel rather sick."

"Mr Bennet would have your hide if he knew you behaved ill towards Miss Elizabeth." Mr Goulding rested his boot on the boat's edge; the side—was it aft or stern or starboard, Elizabeth could not recall—dipped lower.

"I do not like the boat," whined Mr Collins.

"Would that his injury had been one that rendered him unconscious," Mr Darcy muttered. Then, his voice louder, he said, "Mr Collins, you are welcome to join us here on the bench, where there is little room, and unlike the boat, sits on dirt and stone. Thus our company likely includes spiders, worms, termites, and frogs."

"And rats," offered Elizabeth.

Mr Goulding's loud guffaw almost drowned out Mr Collins' sharp intake of air and his quavering reply. "I shall remain in the boat. I could not allow myself to endanger my cousin or discomfort her by removing to such a crowded area. I thank you for your foresight in ensuring Miss Elizabeth's safety and comfort there and trust that she remains content and secure from any close proximity to you or Mr Goulding. In the gloom, I find it difficult to discern her figure."

"You should not be trying to discern her figure , Mr Collins, but I assure you she is well."

The sternness with which Mr Darcy spoke to her cousin was gratifying; the gravity and force in his voice was more suitable for a battlefield than a boat-house. He was a man accustomed to commanding others; Mr Collins was used to following orders. With Mr Darcy at her side, she need not fear any further distressing words from her cousin.

"I apologise for speaking on your behalf. I hope you are well?"

Mr Darcy's quietly voiced enquiry startled her from her musings. He had leant close to ask, so discomposing her with the nearness of his mouth to her ear that her assurances were only partly true.

A cold wet wind blew in through the open water, taking attention away from Mr Collins's continued moans and sending a shiver through them all. Mr Darcy reached in the pocket of the greatcoat covering her, pulled out a small flask, and offered it to her.

"Brandy."

She took a small sip and felt its warmth flood through her. "Ah, thank you."

Mr Darcy took the next sip before leaning past her to offer it to Mr Goulding. After offering Elizabeth another sip, which she declined, Mr Darcy took another, then leant forward and thrust the flask at her cousin. "Drink it, man. It will lessen your pain."

"And ours," she whispered, pleased to hear Mr Darcy and Mr Goulding chuckle.

With some assistance from Mr Darcy, Mr Collins drank deeply, coughing and sputtering after he swallowed. Within moments, he was slumped and snoring.

"You, Mr Darcy, are heaven sent."

It was not too much later that the cacophony of rain on the boat-house roof diminished and the sky over the trees brightened. Mr Goulding opened the door and surveyed outside; the soft nicker of his horse greeted him.

"Poor girl, I must get a blanket on you when we reach home. But first," he said, giving Elizabeth a serious look, "can I take you to Longbourn?"

His offer was in no way proper but she understood he wished to show every consideration for her welfare. "I am able to walk, thank you, but Mr Collins cannot. Please, tell my family I am well and ask my father to send Jimmy with the pony cart for my cousin."

Mr Darcy followed Mr Goulding through the door and stood on the entry stone, inspecting the state of the muddy path. Elizabeth leant against the doorjamb, watching one man ride off and the other standing about, likely wishing he too had a horse. She tilted her face towards the sun and breathed in deeply. After so much time sitting in the damp, musty boat-house, the fresh air was sharp and crisp; still, she was glad to remain warm and dry underneath Mr Darcy's heavy coat.

He tapped his foot on the rock, shaking a chunk of mud from his boot, before stepping towards her, indicating his intent to return to the relative warmth of the boat-house. She moved inside, glanced at the sleeping lump that was Mr Collins, and sat down. Rather than follow her, Mr Darcy remained standing by the open door, sunlight flooding in behind him, clearly ensuring some proper distance between them before their rescuers arrived.

Disappointed by his distance—admittedly only a few feet—yet understanding it, she asked him the time.

He pulled out his pocket watch. "It is just past two o'clock."

"I have been gone two hours." Incredible.

"Your family will be much relieved."

"Yes, those that are not displeased by the condition of my skirts and the result of Mr Collins's unwanted proposals." She scolded herself for these revelations. Perhaps she truly was too forward with her thoughts and opinions. Mr Collins lacked sense and intelligence and was entirely unsuitable as a husband for her, but he was her relation and Longbourn's future master. She should not disparage him to others—especially to the nephew of her cousin's patroness. Rather than apologise and bring further attention to her transgression, she opted for a neutral topic: the weather.

"The skies were blue when I first left Longbourn. Not a dark cloud in the sky, nor even the smell of rain. How did you know for certain a storm was approaching?"

Mr Darcy lifted his left arm. "I fell from a tree when I was just turned nine years, and broke the long bone in my arm. I was an active boy and not inclined to hold it as still in its bindings as instructed, but it did heal. Yet ever since, when a storm is near, I feel some ache in it, here." He lay his right hand just below his left elbow. "It is only a twinge. My grandfather felt similar aches in all his joints, but his were from age rather than injury."

Elizabeth laughed. "My grandmother as well. It is an ailment my mother will be reluctant to admit to, if it indicates she is growing old."

He gave her a small, and most becoming, smile. "I have my grandfather's height but not his temperament so I will perhaps not become a crotchety old man grousing about my aches and pains."

"Heaven forfend," she murmured, knowing she should laugh but overly focused on the thought of Mr Darcy decades in the future. His hair may turn white but will his eyes retain their dark depths ?

"Nor will I boast of my triumphs in predicting the weather."

Elizabeth's smile faltered. "Knowing a storm was imminent, you wandered off—on foot—onto an estate with which you are not fully familiar. Why would you not choose to stay within the comforts of Netherfield, with a book?"

She knew he would not confess to a means of escaping Miss Bingley's company but his answer surprised her more.

"I suspected you would walk out, and thought to ensure you did not get caught in the storm."

Oh. She had no ready quip or answer to that.

"I should not have admitted my motivations," he said quickly. "I was to leave today for London—I have business there with my solicitor and... You have enjoyed the company at Netherfield, and perhaps you, more than anyone I know, understand my desire to be out of doors."

There was no need for brandy when such compliments could warm her. "You did not fear the damage to your fine hat and coat? I have muddied the hem of it quite badly."

His shrug was all the reminder she needed of his wealth. He would simply purchase a new one. "Now you must visit your tailor as well."

He shrugged again, and she fell silent, chastened that their interval of friendship would end with their rescue. She drew his coat around her shoulders. It felt far colder now.