Page 78 of The Fee Entail

Perhaps a phoenix would arise from those flames—or perhaps I was just a silly old woman. Only time would tell, but for myself, I felt fully content with my day’s labours for the first time since the midwife told me Lydia was my fifth daughter.

Reunion

Elizabeth

We were a quarter mile from the parsonage when we first noticed the smoke, and once that was visible, there was no amount of pleading or cajoling that could induce Mr Smith to move another yard towards the fire. It was all any of us could do to get him to stop where the smoke first became visible, and not turn around to return to Rosings instantly. I could not really blame the man, as I would not want to tell Lady Catherine I had taken three ladies under her protection, two of them barely able to walk let alone run, to the site of a fire with a pony attached to their phaeton that did not even have reins. No sir! I had to admit that, even though it was ostensibly my home burning, other than my concern for my animals, I did not particularly mind. I happened to know that Sergeant and Mrs MacDonald, along with the curate, were having tea with Jane—

That thought stopped me in my tracks (not that I was making any tracks in the first place) but I had to admit it was on the unusual side for Jane to invite those particular personages to tea on a Saturday afternoon. I had been practically frantic (well, according to Charlotte, I was far past that state, but Charlotte always did overreact to every little thing) when we went out for our ride in Anne’s phaeton, so I may not have noticed any peculiar behaviour, but it was quite suspicious.

Before we could make any sort of decision, including the decision to get out of the middle of the road before we were run over by another coach, the inevitable happened. We were not actually run over by Darcy’s carriage, but it seemed a frightening thing for a moment. They had clearly seen the smoke before I did, and the two lunkheads were probably on the way to see if they could be the dashing hero types and rescue a helpless damsel in distress; though the idea of Mrs MacDonald née Hewes as a damsel was almost as funny as the idea of her in distress. I thought it more likely one of the gentlemen would run into a burning building to save her, and she would end up carrying him out.

Of course, those thoughts only frittered through my head for a moment at most, before we were suddenly accosted by the expected gentlemen, a full week early. I had to give it to Darcy. He had defied me by a week, but I was surprised it was not a fortnight or a month—and I was not as displeased with his betrayal as one might suppose.

They approached the carriage, Fitzwilliam running up to me with the biggest grin I had ever seen on a face since Mr Bingley first saw Jane back in the bloom of young love (or whatever that emotion was) and I would not have been at all surprised if he jumped on the phaeton, threw Charlotte to the ground, and gave me a big hug. As I said, my head was more prone to being addled than usual, and my flights of fancy more pronounced since my brush with death, who truth be told, had no sense of humour whatsoever.

Darcy settled for more or less sensible speech.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Let me look at you! I am so happy to see you well and whole. Nothing in this life can ever match the pleasure I am feeling at this moment. Please tell me you are well. Please, be well, Elizabeth!”

I was nearly overwhelmed by the pure emotion of the address, not to mention the repetitiveness, and I matched his exuberance with my own reckless torrent of words.

“Fitzwilliam.”

He did not seem to mind my brevity, because I believe I gave him the very first truly heartfelt smile in our long, rocky history. I had not even been certain I liked him at our last supper, but my sisters told me all that he had done, and all that he would do, and as far as I was concerned, he had earned all my smiles and more. There was no longer any question about whether I liked him or not. No question whatsoever.

I glanced away from him to see his cousin, the other lunkhead as my sisters called him, approaching the carriage, exhibiting his usual over-exuberant chattiness he was famous for. “Anne, Elizabeth, Miss Lucas. I am overjoyed to see you all well.”

I looked at Charlotte to see if she was sharpening her knives, but she just looked at him neutrally. I was so excited I practically screamed. Neutrality we could work with. Indifference was such an improvement.

I turned back to Fitzwilliam, who I found could never quite be ‘Darcy’ when he was standing before me, and reckoned that much more of his behaviour over the previous week (the previous week of our acquaintance anyway) made more sense than it had before. In fact, nearly everything he had ever done made some kind of sense.

I was thinking of that but remembered the smoke. I was not overly concerned about the parsonage, and I knew the gentlemen had been distracted for the moment, but neither they nor I could just stand there without knowing what was happening.

“Fitzwilliam, might you help me down? I am not back to being the great walker I once was.”

At the reference, he smiled like a boy wandering through his favourite glen next to his favourite trout stream who unaccountably found a pie lying on his favourite stump. When I reached for a hand, he simply grabbed me around the waist and lifted me down like a child. I was all skin and bones at the time, so I doubt it was that much of a strain, but I reached over and put my hands on his shoulders just to be safe.

When he set me on my feet facing him as gently as a breeze, I felt somewhat unsteady… yes, that was it… I was truly unsteady, and that was the reason I tipped forward to end up with my head on his chest. Yes, that was it… I was near to vapours. We were all lucky I did not fall on the ground to be trampled by the pony.

I may have leaned on the man a bit longer than propriety strictly allowed, but I reckoned that everyone present was trustworthy enough to keep my secret, and it was certainly not as if we had to worry about compromise.

I vaguely wondered how Charlotte was doing, but it took perhaps a moment to come back to myself and ask, “Would you help me these last few hundred yards? I am not what I was, but I would like to make sure my animals are released and nobody is injured, or worse yet, doing something stupid to save that horrid building.”

I expected an argument, or an order to return to Rosings while the manly men did the manly man duties, but he surprised me… as usual.

“It would be my privilege, Elizabeth. Anne, would you be willing to return to Rosings so you can tell your mother and sisters what is happening? They will see the smoke soon, and I would not have them worried unnecessarily.”

I thought Anne would argue, but she simply answered, “Of course. I will return in half an hour, if you can convince Mr Smith.”

“We shall not importune the man. Go in my carriage. My driver will take you to Rosings, and return you if your mother allows it.”

The insufferable girl gave him a pout worthy of a thirteen-year-old Lydia, but agreed to his scheme.

Fitzwilliam asked, “Miss Lucas, will you join us at the parsonage or return to Rosings? You are of course welcome in the carriage with Anne.”

“I will join you if you do not mind.” Then she completely surprised all of us. “Mr Fitzwilliam, might you assist me?”

I knew perfectly well Charlotte could have jumped from the phaeton and landed on her feet with the greatest of ease, so it was clear she was either determined to give the poor man a chance, or she was simply doing what she needed to prevent the Bennet sisters from hounding her to death for the next week. A betting woman would be inclined to the latter explanation, but maybe she was relenting just a little bit, or perhaps she had finally realised that the gentleman had never actually done her the least bit of harm.