Page 14 of Searching for Elizabeth
“Anyway,” Mary said, “I am going to try very hard to wake up early tomorrow and take some food to Lizzy. I think she may run out of food tomorrow or the next day if I cannot get there tomorrow morning to replenish her supplies.”
Darcy frowned. “If that happens, can you have Hill send her husband to Netherfield to alert me to the problem? I can get some food to her, if you tell me where the cottage is.”
Mary said, “I am sure I will wake up in time. I am determined.”
Darcy heard a woman calling, “Mary! Ma-a-a-ary!” They started back to the house and saw that Miss Bennet had been the one calling them. She sweetly smiled, demurely looked down, then up at Darcy’s face, and then down again. She reached out andsoftlyput her hand on his arm. “Come, Mr. Darcy. My mother is quite desperate for you to stay for dinner, and she asked me to fetch you both.”
Clearly, Miss Bennet was flirting with him.Darcy felt like vomiting, which was likely not the reaction thatMiss Bennetwas hoping for. He could see with his rational brain that she was softer, sweeter, more genteelas well as more gentle, thanCaroline Bingley. But in essentials, Darcy felt quite strongly that they were basically the same: motivated to act inwhatever mannerrequired to secure a rich husband.
He extricated his arm from her hand without a word and escorted Mary back into the parlor. Bowing to Mrs. Bennet, he made his excuses and left. He would not join a meal hosted by a woman who had evicted a young, innocentdaughterfrom her home and family because she refused an offer of marriage. Itwould be shocking behavior from anyone, but it was positively disgusting that amotherwould do this.
Darcy decided to take another long walk, searching for Elizabeth.
Chapter 14: Elizabeth
—afternoon—
Elizabeth Bennet had done so much writing that day, for once in her entire life she felt all written out.
Mary had not come. She had enough food for dinner and for breakfast the next day. Barely enough. If Mary did not come before noon the next day, Lizzy would have to walk to Meryton to buy food, or possibly try to find Bernie or someone else to purchase food for her. But, for now, she was fine, and she would pretend as if she would always be so.
Lizzy was aware that this would be a continuing problem. As long as she was scared about being snatched up and made to marry Mr. Collins, life at Blackthorn Cottage was going to be even more difficult than living alone in a humble cottage normally would be, with no servants, barely a kitchen, and no well for water.
But better this than buckling to Papa’s weak principles and Mama’s self-centered wails, she told herself. So Lizzy put all of those continuing-problem issues to one side and focused on right now.
She decided that she had to write to the Gardiners. She had not been able to do the research to find out how much she would need each week, but perhaps she could just make a guess and then change the amount later.
As clearly and unemotionally as possible, she wrote about being banished from her childhood home and family. Because she did not want her uncle to try to rescue her, she gave no indication of her location, but she exaggerated her safety. Shewrote that she was cozy and warm in her new home, and that some of her family (although in reality, it was just Mary) and several friends (really, only Mr. and Mrs. Hill) were taking care of her. However, she informed her uncle, she was going to need a regular income of five pounds per month, and she would subsequently invest only whatever monies were left over. Since Uncle had been receiving her payments from Mortimer Press, Lizzy asked him to send money and messages to her by way of Hill, with a private messenger giving letters and parcels directly into Hill’s hands.
With her letter ready to be mailed, she had the perfect excuse for a walk. She decided that, since the Millcroft farm was closest, she would try to enlist Bernie’s help.
Once again mostly hidden by her black cloak, Lizzy hurried toward the farm and then, staying hidden in some trees, watched for a few minutes to assess where each family member was. The two young girls were hurrying across the farmyard and disappearing into the vegetable garden. The weathered Mr. Millcroft was scurrying between rows of wheat, and Mrs. Millcroft was scattering chicken feed and then gathering a few eggs. The hustle and the bustle slowed, and soon there was only one Millcroft to be seen: Bernie Millcroft, bending over a seed drill and whistling a merry tune.
Lizzy clicked her tongue, and when Bernie turned toward the odd sound, she moved a bit so he could see her, and then she beckoned to him.
He hustled over to her, and when she murmured, “I do not want your family to see me,” he followed her deeper into the trees.
“Are things still just as bad?” Bernie asked.
“Yes, but do not worry. I have written to my uncle and aunt in Town, and I am sure that they can help me. But I dare not go to Meryton to mail the letter. I was hoping that you could go for me?”
“Oh! I…I am supposed to fix the seed drill….”
Lizzie said, “I can stay here long enough to fix the seed drill. If someone from your family comes out and sees me, I can tell them you are lifting heavy things for me, so I am helping you with your chore.”
Bernie nodded, apparently eager to help.
“Thank you,” she said. She watched Bernie carefully place the letter into the pocket of his coat. She said, “Remember, with the trouble in my family, I do not want you to tellanyone, not even my mother, or Jane—no one at all—that you saw me. Is keeping my secret something you think you can do?”
Bernie looked as conflicted as he had the day before, and Lizzy knew that part of it was that he could not think of any non-scandalous reason for keeping such a secret. She whispered, “Trust me, Bernie. This is for the best for everybody.”
He straightened up, squared his shoulders, and raised his finger to touch the rim of his hat in a kind of salute. “Yes, miss, I can do it.” And then he dashed off toward Meryton.
Lizzy bent over the seed drill and used a handful of grass to gently brush at the grooves and the funnel, cleaning away loose dirt and a few seeds. She soon found the problem, or rather, the two problems: some hardened mud had caked onto the back part of the cylinder, and a small stone was blocking the funnel.
After a quarter of an hour, Lizzy had fixed both of the problems and restored the seed drill to its original spot in the Millcroft yard.
Walking back to her cottage, Lizzy reveled in thelovely day. The blue sky scudded with puffy clouds, and although the air was cold, thesun felt warmer than it had the day before—enough to warm Lizzy’s face when she lifted it up.Most of theoak trees still held onto their autumnal leaves, providing golden contrast against the dark evergreens; of course,the hornbeam and beech and ashtrees were utterly stripped of leaves but etched the sky with their myriad branchings.Manyshrubs around Lizzy’s cottage had also lost their leaves, and the blackthorn bushes, in particular, looked quite menacing at this time of year, but several holly bushes brightened the area with glossy green foliage.
