Chapter Nine

Darcy

23 rd January 1812

A week had passed, and Georgie had recovered physically, but his memory remained elusive. The Bennet family had been more than benevolent to him. He had taken meals with them on the first day after his initial recovery but had since requested to dine on his own, feeling uncomfortable eating with them in case it was not proper.

He knew the society he was a part of had strict rules. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he did. If he were a servant or, worse, a pauper, and word spread that the family had dined with one such as he, it would reflect badly on the Bennets. Of course, he also could not dine with the servants because, if he outranked them, there might be talk about him in the future.

This concern had not been his own, but rather Mrs Bennet’s who seemed the most concerned about his status. “What if you are a Duke? What would it look like if word spread that the Duke of Dingers took dinner with servants? And what would it say of us? The Bennets made the Duke of Dingers eat with their housekeeper? I think not.”

Given the woman’s demeanour, it was clear that she would brook no argument.

Thus, a compromise had been made, which saw him eating in his chamber. Indeed, he had a chamber now designated for him in the attic. He had not wanted to use Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s chamber longer than he had to and was much more comfortable in his own room—even if it was darker and smaller than the comfortable chamber of his host’s daughter.

Still, despite having his own room, and even though his eating arrangements had been sorted, he felt uncomfortable. He was costing the family money. Not just for food and beverages but also firewood and clothing, which Mr Bennet had purchased for him in town.

The longer he stayed, the more he would cost them. From conversations he’d overheard, and from what he’d gathered on his daily walks, the Bennets may have been landed gentry, but they were not wealthy. No, Georgie was certain, he had to repay the Bennets for their kindness and generosity somehow. To that end, he approached Mr Bennet, who was in the stable, tending to the horses.

“Mr Bennet,” he began, his breath visible in the chill air, “I need to speak with you.”

Mr Bennet looked up from his work, a brow raised in curiosity. “What is it, Georgie?”

Georgie, as he had begun to think of himself, took a deep breath. “I cannot continue to live off the family’s good Christian hospitality. It is not right.”

Mr Bennet straightened, dusting off his hands. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I intend to earn my keep. I have nowhere else to go, so I cannot leave unless you wish it, but I cannot simply rely on your compassion without contributing. I want to work on the lands.” He motioned to the fields where farmhands were toiling under the guidance of a burly, bearded man whom Georgie had heard called Mr Cook.

Mr Bennet’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Georgie, how do we know what you can do? Do you think you’ve worked a farm before?”

Georgie hesitated, the uncertainty of his past gnawing at him. “I have no idea. But I think I’d be quite good at sowing the fields or bringing in the harvest.”

Mr Bennet chuckled. “It’s not harvesting season, I’m afraid. We do grow cabbage and Brussels sprouts in the winter, but right now, we’re just turning the land ready for sowing in the spring. But I do need someone who can chop wood. Can you do that?”

“I can,” Georgie said confidently, though the confidence was mostly for show. He had no idea if he could chop wood. Although he’d seen it done a few days earlier when John, one of the farmhands, had prepared a basketful and it looked simple enough. Because there wasn’t much work to be done on the lands over winter, John had gone to visit his family in Devon for a fortnight, so Georgie was happy to volunteer for the task in his absence, if it would go some way to repaying the Bennets generosity.

Mr Bennet nodded and led him to the chopping block around the corner. The stack of seasoned logs stood tall, a daunting task for anyone, let alone someone who wasn’t sure if he had ever chopped wood before. Georgie stared at the block, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

“Here’s the axe,” Mr Bennet said, handing him the tool. “I’ll come back later and, in the meanwhile, I’ll speak to Mr Cook, the steward, to see what else you could do around the place.”

Georgie watched Mr Bennet walk away, leaving him alone with the task. He gripped the axe tightly, feeling the smooth wooden handle against his palm. He placed a log on the chopping block and raised the axe high above his head, aiming for a clean split. So far, so good.

He swung down with all his might, but the axe struck the log awkwardly, barely making a dent. The vibration from the impact jarred his arms, and he grimaced. Well. This was not promising. But then again, he’d had an accident. Or he’d been attacked. One or the other. In any case, he’d been unwell, so surely it was understandable he’d need some time to get back into this task. Determined, he tried again, adjusting his grip and stance. This time, the axe glanced off the side of the log, sending splinters flying but leaving the wood mostly intact.

“Perdition!” he grumbled, standing with the axe to one side. He paused, feeling the frustration rise. Then, he tried his hand again. And again. And again.

Yet, despite his best efforts, the logs seemed to mock him, remaining stubbornly whole as he kept missing and carving ridges into the chopping block instead. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a deep breath, reminding himself that he had to keep trying. He was about to raise the axe for another swing when he heard a giggle.

Turning, he saw Lydia and Kitty watching him from a distance, their faces alight with amusement. Lydia called out, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Georgie?”

Kitty chimed in, “You look like you’re battling a dragon, not chopping wood!”

Georgie managed to smile, though he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Before he could respond, Jane appeared, her calm presence a relief.

“Lydia, Kitty, leave him be,” Jane said gently but firmly. “He’s doing his best.”

The younger sisters pouted but obeyed, skipping off to find another source of entertainment. Jane turned to Georgie with a kind smile.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said, feeling grateful for her intervention. “Your sisters are quite spirited.”

Jane laughed softly. “Indeed, they are. Don’t mind them. They mean well.”

Georgie found himself struck by Jane’s serene beauty and gentle nature. “You’re very thoughtful, Miss Bennet.”

Jane blushed lightly. “Thank you, Georgie. If you need any help, just ask.”

“I will, Miss Bennet. Your generosity is much appreciated. I only hope I can be of some use around here.”

Jane regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re already more helpful than you realise. Your determination is admirable.”

He watched her leave, feeling a lightening in his chest. The Bennet sisters were indeed unique, each one with her own charm. Even the quietest sister, Mary, had a silent charm to her—it was just more difficult to see.

But it was Elizabeth who captivated him the most. He thought of her lively eyes and her lovely lips, a smile playing on his face at the memory of their exchanges. Maybe it was because she’d cared for him when he was ill, that he thought highly of her but he wasn’t sure. There was more to it. Wasn’t there?

“Georgie?”

“Eli… Miss… Miss Bennet,” he said, grappling with the correct title. Of course, she had to show up just as he was thinking of her.

“What were you smiling about, Georgie?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Georgie tried to hide his surprise. “Just thinking about how poorly I’m doing with this wood.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, glancing at the pile of badly chopped logs. “Is that something to smile about?” she asked with a wink, but then surveyed the rather calamitous scene in front of her. “Yes, it does look like you could use some help. Why don’t you show me how you’ve been doing it so I can help?”

He sighed, knowing his lack of skill would be evident. He picked up the axe and attempted to chop another log, but it was a clumsy effort. Elizabeth laughed, a delightful sound that made him forget his embarrassment.

“Let me show you,” she said, taking the axe from him. With a practised motion, she split the log cleanly in two. “See? It’s all about technique.”

Georgie watched her, impressed. “You make it look easy.”

Elizabeth handed the axe back to him. “Now you try.”

He followed her instructions, focusing on his technique rather than brute strength. This time, the axe split the log more effectively. He grinned at Elizabeth, who clapped her hands in approval.

“Well done, Georgie! You’re getting the hang of it,” she said. “A few more times and you’ll have it.” She paused then and pressed a finger against her lips. “Do not tell my mother that I know how to chop wood. It isn’t one of the accomplishments she feels behoves a young lady to know.”

He chuckled and pressed his finger on his lips, mirroring her posture. “Your secret is safe with me. But pray, who taught you?”

“My father,” she said. “Whenever Mother goes to town to visit her sister, he teaches me whatever I want to learn, like hunting and fishing.”

“I love fishing,” he said, though instantly snapped his mouth shut. Did he?

“You remembered something,” she said, her words tumbling out one over the other. “That is wonderful.”

“It- it is… but I am unsure how I know that I like fishing. Earlier I was convinced I knew how to chop wood and I was mistaken.”

She tapped her finger against her chin. “We should try it out. Mother is travelling to London next week with Jane, perhaps we can fish if you are still here then. My father will take us and we can see if you can indeed fish.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said, feeling a rush of heat. “I appreciate your help. And I look forward to it.”

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “As do I. I will speak to Papa this afternoon. In the meantime,” she pressed her finger in front of her lips again and then walked away as he looked after her, his heart skipping a beat.

Once she’d disappeared inside, he set out to work on his firewood again, and once he’d managed to apply what she’d taught him, he found his thoughts drifting.

The same questions that had bothered him for days, all piled one on top of the other. Where was he from? What had he done before this? Why had nobody come looking for him? The questions nagged at him, creating an unsettling void where his past should have been. The thought that perhaps no one was searching for him, weighed heavily on his heart.

Was he truly alone in the world? Maybe he had no family to look for him. The idea was disconcerting, even more so because of how much he liked the Bennet family. The laughter of the younger Bennet sisters, the gentle sympathy of Jane, the teasing but supportive nature of Elizabeth—it all provided a stark contrast to the cold, uncertain reality of his memory loss.

Mr Bennet returned a short while later, eyeing the pile of chopped wood with approval. “Well done, Georgie. You’ve done a fine job.”

“Thank you, Mr Bennet,” Georgie replied.

Mr Bennet clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve earned your keep for today. Come inside and warm up. Hill will have something for you to eat.”

Georgie nodded, feeling a heat spread through him that had nothing to do with the physical exertion. As they walked back to the house, he looked around at Longbourn, feeling a deep appreciation for the place and the people within it.