The estimate of an outsider
Note - Thank you reviewers of “The dialogue in the library” for your kind comments with nary the mention of a single flame.
Acting on a past reviewer's advice, my latest effort is devoid of the script form used in the earlier story.
Summery: This is a rather long shot (ha ha I made a pun) about that interesting episode concerning Elizabeth and Darcy's first meeting at Pemberley. Much was implied but little was said. Actually, I have always wondered what Mrs Reynolds and the gardiner thought of the whole business..
Chapter 1
Somewhere along Derbyshire's main road, the county's favourite son was riding back to his homestead at Pemberley Hall.
The sun was shining, the birds were twittering, the daisies swayed and the haymakers were earning their weekly keep by fiddling around with their scythes. The latter acknowledged their weekly provider as he rode past, with respectful cap doffing and then resumed their work with tuneless whistling.
It seemed all of Nature rejoiced (barring the haymakers) at the sight of the thoughtful young man as he rode past Matlock's bountiful fields, evergreen forests and silvery rivers.
All wasted on Mr Darcy whose pensive mood cast a glazed sort of look over his handsome features. A casual observer or more accurately a fellow mind reader would have picked up the following thoughts that had caused this less than sang froid attitude to develop.
:".. that consignment of peaches had better not be bruised, Georgie rarely gets to sink her teeth into the really good sort with soft, silky skin . . PEACHES skin! Peaches skin!Damn.. must think of something else...”
The young man now took in his surroundings and gave Nature her impatient acknowlgement.
“It's good to come back to Pemberley again ... the familiar halls, the aged ancestors beaming from every wall … the rolling parklands and woods with hidden nooks where she would've loved to..No! Not again .. how many times has that happened today? thrice, I think? its an improvement from last week's twenty...”
Subconsciously, Mr Darcy wiped his bedewed brow that betrayed more than the heat of the day. In the ensuing pause, the young aristocrat's baser nature took to the mental stand.
“Fitz, get a hold of yourself man! you're seeing 'Her' everywhere… leaning against the windows, curled up in the library, in the vicinity of your bedroom ... ? You better be blushing, until you start seeing sense..”
Seeing the effect of his own self berating , he glumly added aloud, “ What is the use?
All that awaits me is the cold comforts of home and some peaches (probably bruised)…
No leap of the imagination there!”
Chapter 2
All was quiet at the Pemberley homestead.
Encouraged by these passive conditions the sun blazed brightly, the birds twittered blithely and a breeze gently pulsated though the veins of the rhododendron bushes that marked the borders around the Pemberley Estate.
Nature had taken the initiative once again to put on a bright face and lift the spirits of her wayward children on this bright summer's day. She was un-deterred by her earlier failure on the road and was prepared metaphorically speaking, to `lay-it-on-thick' with the three individuals that had just emerged from the mansions impressive looking mahogany doors.
As Elizabeth and the Gardiners emerged from the aforementioned doorway, relief appeared to be the most evident emotion on their faces.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner had enjoyed the tour around the mansion very much but had found the housekeeper's enthusiastic eulogies about the Darcy family rather straining on their normally buoyant natures.
Elizabeth on the other hand, was simply grateful to embrace the wide outdoors that beckoned her to approach its comforting and more importantly, well covered mantle. She turned to take a last look at the building that had caused her considerable and now laughable distress on first beholding it.
Once the group met together outside the mansion, they were joined by the gardener who also doubled as an unofficial tour guide of the Pemberley Estate.
He spoke little, and pondered chiefly on Mr Gardiner's tipping abilities.
Noticing Elizabeth's pensive mood, Mrs Gardiner broke the companionable silence by commenting on the building's age.
Startled out of her reverie, Elizabeth relied "Oh.. I `m sure you can ask the gardener about-"
"You called, my dear?" said Mr Gardiner.
Mrs Gardiner laughed. "Noo.. No I meant this 'gardener', not you - Mr Gardiner."
The Gardiners and the gardener shared a laugh and the party began moving towards the woods.
Elizabeth breathed a mental sigh of relief.
"We're out of there...finally!... and out here in the open, I see I was being a bit ridiculous today. To think I was worried this morning that 'He' would turn up here.. that only happens in Kitty's silly romance novellas. That would never happen in real-"
The sounds of hoof beats in the distance brought Elizabeth abrubtly out of her thoughts. Before she could gather her wits, she stared in mute horror as Mr Darcy himself rounded the corner of the building.
Unaware of the consternation he was currently causing in the woman of his dreams, Mr Darcy's thoughts were now focused on more mundane matters.
"...exhausted! I could do with a bath about - AARGH!"
It would be inaccurate to say time stopped.
It continues regardless of the emotions of the human inhabitants that think otherwise, and so it continued now. Nevertheless, as a certain set of eyes caught sight of one another, the fervent belief in that impossible phenomenon rapidly gained strength.
Mr Darcy was clearly shaken and for several moments was simply at a loss. Until the Old Darcy Logic decided to take over his frozen mental processes.
"Stay calm, Fitz. it's probably just an illusion. You're tired, and it's natural to think you're seeing things that are not there...”
He heaved a short sigh and allowed himself the luxury of a small bubble of irrational panic to course through his mind.
“I knew it would come to this sooner or later...Remember Uncle Alaric?.. saw little imaginary black-bearded men everywhere for a month before he was - sent away... Elizabeth.."
In an effort to further reassure himself, Mr Darcy began a quick trot over to the moving group.
The move jerked Elizabeth out of her state of semi paralysis and immediate embarresment set in.
"NOOO! don't walk here, don't walk here! For God's sake, turn around… He's here..."
He finally caught up, panting slightly.
"It is Her! How did she come…? And she's TANNED! but she can't have known about me being here today...she looks even better than those feeble daydreams.."
"Ms Elizabeth..you're here...?"
Clicking an imaginary tongue, he mentally quipped.
"Yes, Master of the gab , of course she is!"
Not being a mind reader, Elizabeth failed to notice the embarrassment in his voice and was only aware of her own increasing.
"Er..y-yes, yes I am Mr Darcy."
"Alone?"
She glanced up for the only time in the dialogue and replied, "No, I have company with me, um..."
Silence descended.
During this little tete a tete, the Gardiners were unaware that their favourite niece was temporarily missing in sight seeing action. This was understandable as they had been deep in discussion over Mr Pott (the gardener's) entertainment suggestions in the country.
Wanting to confirm the time for the following day's egg and spoon racing event at the local parish, Mrs Gardiner turned back to Mr Pott and started.
"Good gracious! This is most peculiar.. the gardener seems to be having some kind of stroke.. oh! who's this?"
Mr Pott, who had been standing with slack jaw and staring with large gooseberry eyes that had initially startled Mrs Gardiner, was fixated on the young couple and their awkward conversation.
"Lor lumme! His nibs! " he thought.
His initial reaction on first beholding Mr Darcy was not a positive one.
Due to the frequency of his trips, the young master was not aware of his gardeners little hobby nor of the financial revenue it bought him and he wished to keep it that way. But ever the gambler at heart, Mr Pott couldn't help but be interested in the little scene playing out before him.
He knew on hidden instincts that he might be on to something.
Meanwhile, Mr Darcy was using the silent interlude to come up with something more intelligible.
”Fitz, now's your chance… if you can't make some intelligent conversation, for God's sakes at least try and put her at ease. She's clearly as embarrassed as you are.."
"I hope that you had a pleasant journey here. When-When did you leave Longbourne?"
"Three weeks ago, I believe."
"What are you doing? You should be flinging me out with a flea in my ear! Why are you being so...polite"
"How is your family? Are they well?"
Elizabeth stared at his buttonhole.
"Who are you, and what have you done with the 'real' Mr Darcy?..this is most unsettling.."
"They are quite well, thank you. "
"What are you doing..um..'how' are you doing for accommodation? Is your room to your liking?"
He almost did not add.
"Because if it isn't, I know just the room that has a pleasant view of the woods and coincidentally is quite close to my private quarters…"
"We have booked rooms at the nearby inn that are quite comfortable."
"Stop talking! Stop talking!"
"Because if it isn't….Oh! will you be in Derbyshire for long?"
Breathing a mental sigh of relief, Elizabeth replied "No! no, we should be continuing our tour again soon."
Switching mental gears, Mr Darcy exercised that intellect he took so much pride in.
"NOO! don't go - Fitz, think of something ! say she's trespassing or something and stop staring at those loose strands of hair caressing that glowing, warm cheek so close...so close you could almost -"
Belatedly, Elizabeth's reply hit him.
"Tour?"
"Yes, I'm travelling with my companions."
She added almost viciously.
"Away from you and this estate with an all empowering desire that this is all just a bad nightmare!"
"You are? Yes! yes, you said. And how long do your companions plan to stay in Derbyshire?"
Elizabeth released a short miserable sigh and felt her spirits plummet further.
"That depends on the number of families we will have to visit...um.. "
"Please! stop tormenting me! If I didn't know any better I'd think you were also embarrassed… I'm the one wishing the well maintained gravel path beneath me would just open and swallow me up…”
Another silence descended.
If there was any doubt that Elizabeth was unhappy, Mr Darcy's pessimistic ears picked up the misery in her sigh and nearly returned it in full to reflect his own sad thoughts.
"She's not happy to be here. That's fairly certain… And I've never seen her look so uncomfortable before... It's because of me…. I'm the one making these very difficult moments for her….but ..I've missed seeing her And she's here! on my gravel path!. .and you've both stopped talking, and are in the presence of witnesses..."
Mr Darcy politely excused himself and immediately took his leave from the ogling group.
Chapter 3
A watermark moon glimmered in the gathering dusk. Across the expansive fields, tired haymakers yawned and wondered what awaited them at supper while the lazy sounds of birds roosting in the rhododendron bushes wafted through the half open doors leading into Pemberley's kitchens.
The staff at Pemberley had had a busy evening what with the unexpected early arrival of its master. That really wasn't a surprise in itself. For as long as they could remember, Mr Darcy almost always returned home before his guests to ensure that everything was in accordance to his pleasure. Already widely known as the least genial of guests himself, he had the upper hand when operating from his own turf.
That very evening after dinner, he inspected the consignment of summer fruit which were thankfully unharmed (except for a few peaches, but after a few minutes of intent staring he merely shrugged and gave orders to turn the offending fruit into jam). Then he listened to verbal reports from his steward on the county's activities during his absence, made a detour to check on Mistress Darcy's room and suggested a few minor changes, checked the other guest rooms with the same care and only then did he settle down for the night.
Mrs Reynolds relayed all the events of the evening with a concerned air. Knowing the young Darcy as she did, she had learned to pick up the little clues that belied his moods and workings of his mind. There was an undercurrent of - something akin to nervous excitement in his manner although he appeared merely thoughtful most of the time. She wondered what or rather who could have occupied his thoughts.
Her eyes briefly darkened as she went over the list of guests that were arriving the next day. The sister of the young master's friend was accompanying Miss Darcy and the mere memory of Miss Bingley caused a sharp stab of annoyance to shoot through the housekeeper's ample frame. This was shortly followed by a jolt of irrational fear when she recalled the interest and care which Mr Darcy had shown in the other guest rooms.
With a barely repressed shudder, Mrs Reynolds held her glass up and nodded towards the pantry boy who waited patiently in the corner.
"Thank you Thomas, I could do with another drop of port."
Just then, the sounds of the back door opened and shut revealing moments later a grime encrusted Mr Pott as he marched across the clean floors of the kitchen.
Mrs Reynolds was not pleased.
"Mr Pott! What are you doing here?"
The gardener approached her and was about to lay a mud encrusted hand on the table before catching the warning gaze from the meticulous housekeeper's eye. He settled for drawing up a chair instead.
He averted further protests by coming straight to the point.
"Are the Stakes still on?"
Mrs Reynolds stiffened.
"I believe so”, she remarked coldly. "it's disgraceful the way you men hold bets based on the marital bliss of your masters."
Ignoring this remark, Mr Pott continued, “Never mind that….I have an important tip."
He bent conspirately towards Mrs Reynolds who remained back due to the aroma of earth surrounding the gardener.
Mr Pott bought his voice down to a whisper.
"And - it's a dead cert!"
Despite herself, the housekeeper decided to overlook the previous transgressions of the whisperer and inclined her head slightly.
"What do you mean?"
“I mean that I have seen and heard things today that enable me to predict with certainty that there will be a new mistress at Pemberley before the year is out!”
Mrs Reynolds gave an involuntary gasp. Her suspicions were right! There was a certain someone occupying the young master's thoughts. She checked the further progress of that thought as her earlier fear caught up with her.
“It's…not one of the guests is it?"
The gardener gave her an odd look and at last comprehension flooded her apple-cheeked face. "You mean-" .
Nodding curtly, Mr Pott continued “I estimate the odds of an outsider (and they don't get more outside than that lass! ) at 33 - 1 . It's a fair enough margin and certainly beats Ol' Carol Bingley's 100 - 1.”
He paused thoughtfully. “Do you think it's too far?"
Ignoring this crucial business enquiry as women are wont to do, Mrs Reynolds indulged herself in sentimental bliss over her favourite ward's future happiness.
"I knew it! I knew it! And what a pretty, well behaved young lady she is too. Oh! and so modest! no wonder she blushed so in the gallery!"
”Well?”
"Hmm..? Oh! I don't care a hang about those matters, Mr Pott. But anticipating your next question, I will put my wager on the er.. “outsider” hopefully leaving enough time to buy a new hat for the happy day!"
Mr Pott leaned back with the relaxed business stance that comes to those who know there's a sizable amount of money in the future.
"Exactly what I was about to suggest."
Fini