With Love's Light Wings Read online

  “One of our sheep escaped to the meadow beyond the corner of the estate,” said the man in his gruff voice. “I had Jonathan look at the fence, but he could not detect any openings in it.”

  “Jonathan is your son?” asked Alexander.

  The farmer confirmed Alexander’s question, though Darcy had not thought his brother acquainted enough with the tenants to know who he was. Then he did something even more surprising.

  “Perhaps William and I could ride along the fence and inspect it for ourselves.”

  Farmer Hearn doffed his wide-brimmed hat in a gesture of respect. “If you could, I would be mighty grateful. Jonathan means well, but I doubt he looked too closely if you catch my meaning. He has other concerns to occupy him.”

  “It would be no trouble, Mr. Hearn,” said Darcy, his brother echoing him. “We will ride in that direction, and if we discover anything, we will arrange to have it repaired.”

  “Thank you, good sirs. I appreciate the help.”

  After a few more words, the gentlemen took their leave and rode off to the south toward the border. As Darcy recalled, Mr. Hearn kept his sheep close to that area, and while some of it was wooded, it rose toward a small hill, the end of which contained the barrier between Longbourn and Pemberley.

  They rode in silence for some few moments, and as they approached the fence, Darcy’s mind kept returning to his brother’s conduct with Farmer Hearn. Though Alexander had never shown much of an interest in the estate, his conduct confirmed Darcy’s opinion that he was capable when he chose to be so. The matter of the Hearn son, however, provoked Darcy to curiosity, and after a time he determined to ask his brother on the subject.

  “Jonathan is my age,” replied Alexander to Darcy’s question. “Though he is a tenant’s son and I the son of the gentleman, sometimes we played together as boys. I have not seen him in some years, but I remember him.” Alexander paused for a moment and asked: “What is this business to which Mr. Hearn alluded?”

  “It is my understanding Jonathan is courting Mr. Peabody’s oldest daughter.”

  “Little Betsy Peabody?” asked Alexander with a laugh. When Darcy replied in the affirmative, Alexander grinned and said: “I remember Jonathan was sweet on her when we were children. She was quite a handful, as I recall—I hope he understands what he is about.”

  Darcy nodded but did not reply. A few more minutes riding brought them close to the border, and they soon came across the fence. It was a good, solid barrier, built of the wood surrounding them, rising to about shoulder height on a man. Darcy’s father had always ensured the fences were kept in good repair; they were inspected at least once every year, which was worrisome if there was a problem. The section where they arrived appeared to be in good order, and an experimental push on a post was met with little flex.

  “Well, Brother?” asked Alexander, looking in both directions from where they stood. “As I recall, the fence runs to the northeast before turning due north, parallel to the Lambton road. If we turn the other direction, we must go southwest and then west. Shall we turn in that direction, or go toward the north?”

  “Most of the meadow of which the farmer spoke is toward the south. Let us go in that direction.”

  “Very well,” said Alexander, heeling his horse in the direction Darcy had indicated.

  The country in this part of the estate was rough, undulating hills mixed with rocky outcrops rising from the earth. For the hardy and sure-footed sheep, it was no trouble, but for two men on horses, the rough terrain required them to go around obstacles or through woods of close, spindly trees. It was time-consuming and aggravating, but in the end, they discovered a board that had been knocked loose and left a hole in the fence large enough for a sheep to go through.

  “Looks like we have found our culprit,” observed Alexander as Darcy bent to put the piece of wood back in place. It was not perfect, but Darcy positioned it so that the wood provided at least a partial barrier. “Shall we return to Mr. Hearn and let him know what we have found?”

  “We can send someone later,” said Darcy, shaking his head. “It would be best if we continue and ensure there are no other issues with the fence.”

  Alexander fixed him with a dubious look. “You suspect other problems?”

  “No,” replied Darcy with a look at his brother. “Father had this fence examined just before the winter snows and declared it sound. But I would not wish for other issues to go undiscovered and lose livestock.”

  With a shrug, Alexander voiced his willingness, and the brothers mounted and set off. It was fortunate they found nothing, for everything else appeared to be in good order. Soon the land grew less rugged and they found themselves on a gradual upward slope, leading toward the hill between Pemberley and Longbourn, the land growing easier for them to navigate as they pressed forward. That was when they came across another sight Darcy had not expected to see.

  “There is someone up ahead,” said Alexander at about the same time that Darcy noticed the sound of voices.

  A few moments later the brothers broke through a line of trees, and the bare slope of the hill rose before them, leading to a crown some distance ahead. There, on the other side of the fence with Longbourn, under a great, lone oak tree which had grown out of the top of the rocky hillock some distance from the fence, were several young women, accompanied by what appeared to be a young boy.

  “The Bennets,” said Darcy.

  “They appear to be having a picnic,” said Alexander as they rode up the hill. “Perhaps we should join them.”

  Darcy turned a glare on his brother and Alexander laughed. “Forgive me, Brother, but I forgot for the moment about the never-ending enmity between the Darcys and the Bennets. If you will forgive me, however, I shall not consider this lot to be a threat. The Bennet sisters are a comely brood of women, and the boy appears to be nothing more than a young boy his age, eager to run.”

  “I suppose you are correct,” said Darcy, looking on the women with interest.

  The boy, who was throwing a ball toward one of the young women holding a cricket bat in her hand, caught Darcy’s interest. To Darcy’s surprise, the young woman struck it, though not hard as there was no one to field it, bouncing it back to the boy. Darcy had never known any young lady to play cricket, so it was a surprise to see her, much less that she had struck the ball. Then the young boy with whom she was playing caught sight of them and pointed with excitement.

  Then she turned to look at them, and Darcy could see for the first time it was Miss Elizabeth. The way the sun shone in the woman’s hair made it appear as if a halo were hovering over her head, and the light of her dark brown eyes, which he could see were narrowed in challenge even from this distance, gave her the appearance of uncommon beauty. It was the first time Darcy had ever looked at her in such a fashion; the sudden wave of desire which swept through him startled him with its intensity.

  Shocked by the improper feeling, Darcy turned his mount and urged it away from the scene, all thought of inspecting the fence forgotten. Though he did not notice it at once, his brother did not immediately follow him. After a moment he stopped and looked back, seeing Alexander making his leisurely way toward him, a wide grin at something only he found amusing.

  “Did you see the sister who gave me a challenging look?” asked he when he rode close to Darcy. “If she were a man, I might have thought she would call me out for the temerity of riding on our side of the border!”

  “Oh?” asked Darcy. “Which one?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” asked Alexander. “I do not know one Bennet from another. The blonde beauty was sitting near her, though this one was just as comely, though darker of coloring. She was also younger unless I miss my guess.”

  “The blonde is the eldest, Miss Jane Bennet,” replied Darcy with a hint of distaste. “The one you describe might be one of the youngest sisters—perhaps Lydia, who suffers from no lack of brashness, from what I understand.”

  Darcy grunted, eager to leave the
subject behind. “It would not do to dwell on them, for they are an improper bunch.”

  “I would not call her manner improper,” replied Alexander. “It was only daring me to . . . Well, I do not know—say something to her, though that is not it either.

  “But I will own to curiosity. The way you spoke of the eldest suggests some disapproval of the woman, and yet she is quiet and proper from what I have heard. What have you to hold against her?”

  Though Darcy had no desire to speak to his brother about Jane Bennet, he knew Alexander was capable of wheedling it out of him. Alexander was also friendly with Bingley, and as the matter was one acknowledged in the neighborhood, Darcy knew he would learn of it sooner rather than later. Thus, he decided there was little reason to keep it from him.

  “Jane Bennet is Bingley’s current amorous interest.”

  “Bingley?” demanded Alexander, a hint of hilarity in his tone. “I like Bingley well enough, but he has always depended on your advice. Might I assume you did not point him toward the eldest Bennet?”

  “Bingley has changed since you last saw him,” replied Darcy. “He is his own man and may choose for himself without reference to me, or anyone else.”

  “Oh ho!” exclaimed Alexander. “Then he has! I sense a tale here, Brother, one I cannot allow you to refrain from sharing with me.”

  A groan escaped Darcy’s lips and he shook his head. Alexander, he knew, would not allow him to demur now, leading Darcy to wish he had just stayed silent. With no other choice, Darcy began relating the whole of the matter to his brother, wincing when Alexander laughed and cheered Bingley on. Though Darcy was still of two minds about it, he knew Alexander had the right of it. And though he still was uncertain about anyone named Bennet, Darcy acknowledged to himself that he could not wish Bingley anything but the best.

  Chapter VII

  Fine spring days were in short supply in Derbyshire that year. Though spring had come early, leading to a melting of the winter’s snows, the days had been characterized by an abundance of rain, leaving the landscape a sodden mass, unfit for man nor beast. Thus, when the weather permitted, it was no surprise that certain elements of the Bennet family were eager to be out of doors.

  “Shall we not go out today, Lizzy?” pleaded the young Master Thomas Bennet to his sister. “It has been so long since we have had a proper outing.”

  Elizabeth laughed and drew her beloved brother close. “Was not our expedition to the river a proper outing?”

  “But it was so muddy and short and we did not catch anything!” protested the boy.

  With a laugh, Elizabeth looked toward Jane. “What do you think, Jane. Perhaps we shall have a picnic?”

  “A picnic?” demanded their mother. “With all that mud, I am sure you will not find a place to lay your blankets!”

  “Oh, I believe I know a place that might suit, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “And I dare say the last two days of fairer weather has allowed it to dry.”

  The Bennet siblings all agreed that a picnic was a capital idea, and they prepared baskets of food and blankets, and a few games to play while they were out. Then, as the hour for luncheon approached, they departed from the manor, Lady Margaret’s admonishments to refrain from dirtying themselves ringing in their ears.

  The manor house of Longbourn was situated north of the center of the estate, and as such, the walk to the hill dividing Longbourn from Pemberley was an easy task, as it was no more than two miles away. Elizabeth, who was long accustomed to the exertion, led the way, Thomas swinging her hand in wide arcs as they walked, with the remaining sisters trailing behind. Though none of them were accustomed to the exercise as Elizabeth was, they were, in general, an active family, and there was little grumbling about the location she had chosen.

  “This is lovely,” said Jane as they broke through the trees and began climbing the hill. “I do not come here often, but every time I do, I am reminded of the beauty of the place in which we live.”

  “The hill provides a fine view of both Longbourn and Pemberley,” said Elizabeth as they neared the crest.

  “Is that not the estate of the Darcys?” asked Thomas, remembering the conversation about the two families’ troubles.

  “It is,” said Elizabeth. “One cannot see the manor house from here, for I believe it is around a bend in the valley, but it is a fine prospect nonetheless.”

  And a fine prospect it was, one enjoyed by all. The fields of both estates lay before them, as the Bennet side of the barrier included the crest of the hill and a little further down on the other slope. Later in the spring, those fields would sprout with new life, the summer’s harvest, providing the life’s blood of the families’ wealth. At the top of the hill stood one solitary tree, an old oak which had defied the rocky terrain and had stood sentinel on the Bennet lands for uncountable years. Elizabeth had whiled away many a pleasant hour under the protective boughs of that old tree, reading a book, or even taking shelter from the occasional storm. It was a beloved friend.

  “Does this hill have a name?” asked Thomas, looking around as his sisters began to lay the blankets and set out their meal.

  “If it does, I am not aware of it,” replied Elizabeth.

  Thomas frowned. “Should not all places such as this have a name? After all, it is quite a prominent feature, is it not?”

  “I suppose it is,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “But not all places have names. If you should name every hill, every bit of rock which sticks up from the surrounding landscape, I should think we would eventually run out of names.”

  Though the boy considered this for a moment, he was not persuaded. “That may be so, Lizzy, but I am convinced this hill should have a name.” Thomas gazed about for a moment, and, catching sight of the tree, said: “I believe I shall call it Oakham Mount.”

  Elizabeth could not help the bubble of laughter which welled up in her, joined by her sisters. It was Kitty who pointed out the obvious problem with his declaration.

  “It seems to me to be a grandiose sort of name, Thomas. This little rise of land is not even a hill, let alone a mountain.”

  “Perhaps,” said Thomas, undeterred. “But I believe the name suits it, with the oak tree sticking up in the center. Yes, I believe I shall call it Oakham Mount from now on.”

  “Then Oakham Mount it shall be,” said Jane, drawing her brother into a soft embrace. “Now, if you are finished playing at being Sir Francis Drake, I believe we should sit down for our meal.”

  It might have been time to sit down for a meal but inducing Thomas to be still for any length of time proved difficult. His first visit to the hill, he was continually gazing about, exclaiming over this scene or that view, until his sisters were quite at their wits’ end. When this had gone on for some time, Elizabeth proposed some exercise in the hope it would settle him.

  “Yes, let us play cricket!” exclaimed the enthusiastic boy. “I shall bowl, and you will bat.”

  As it was best to allow him to have his way, Elizabeth agreed and rose with the aforementioned tools in hand. They set themselves up on the edge of their picnic site, with Thomas throwing the ball in such a way that if Elizabeth missed, their sisters would be in a position to catch it and toss it back to him. Though the boy was awkward in his attempts, his gangly arms flailing about as he ran forward to throw the ball, Elizabeth thought he was skilled for his age.

  “Take care, Lizzy!” cried Mary with a laugh when Elizabeth missed one of her brother’s bowls. It was, she thought in her defense, rather wide of the mark. “It would not do for the ball to end in the food.”

  “Perhaps it is best we put everything back in the baskets,” said Jane.

  “It was my thought to leave it out so Thomas could eat more when he tires of the game,” replied Elizabeth.

  “I am not hungry,” declared Thomas. “Mary, throw the ball back!”

  When he once again held the ball, Thomas resumed the game, throwing the ball again, though this time with more accuracy. They continued in this m
anner for a few more throws, until Elizabeth began to think about offering to exchange places. Then Thomas stopped and pointed in the distance past the border with Pemberley.

  “Look!”

  As one, the sisters turned in the direction of Thomas’s outstretched arm, their gaze falling upon a pair of riders. The taller of the two was well-known to Elizabeth, for she had met him in the nearby meadow only a few days before. The other, though a little smaller of stature, looked much like the first, and though Elizabeth had not seen him for some time, she knew at once who he was.

  Elizabeth looked once again at the other man, and she was struck by the handsome lines of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s countenance, the way he sat on his horse with little overt effort, as if he were one with the beast, or perhaps was the beast—a centaur out of legend. Their eyes met for an instant and Elizabeth felt something pass between them though she could not have said what it was if pressed. And then the man broke the connection between them when he wheeled his horse and began cantering away.

  There was no time to wonder what had just happened—or if it had happened only to her, for the second man caught her gaze again. He was watching them, a slight smirk adorning his features, his gaze locked with Lydia’s. Lydia was giving as good as the gentleman, for her look in response spoke of challenge. The young gentleman then flipped them a jaunty salute and turned to follow his companion. Soon they were out of sight.

  “So, it is true,” said Elizabeth after a moment’s pause.

  “That was the rumor,” agreed Jane, her manner a little worried. “I wonder how this will affect Uncle Gardiner.”

  “I should think it will not affect him at all,” said Lydia. When her sisters turned to look at her, she shrugged and added: “Uncle Gardiner himself said he has no grudge to hold against the younger Darcy.”

  “Perhaps that is so,” said Mary. “But I should hope the uneasy peace is not tested soon, for words may be spoken which may lead to threats, or even worse.”

  “I should hope Uncle Gardiner is better able to control himself than to descend to such behavior,” replied Jane.