1,148Chapter 3 : The Reading Tree
Darcy rose even earlier than was his usual. The sky was still gray outside, merely touched by orange rising from the east. He dressed plainly in what Dawson termed his exercise garments, consisting of dark colored breeches, his oldest and simplest jacket, a shirt, a neckcloth tied in the simplest knot, and boots. He intended to go straight to the stables for an early morning ride with all the intentions of returning before the call for the morning meal. He was thankful when he found the hallways free of Miss Bingley—no doubt due to the very early hour.
But as he entered the stables, he was greeted with unfavorable news by the groom master. His plans were to be thwarted, for Galahad, his steed, had a loose shoe and would have to be reshod, the farrier had been called for and was expected to arrive by noon. Darcy rubbed Galahad's neck and crouched down to check his hooves for any other problems. Satisfied that all was well, he rose and resumed to rub the horse.
"Ah, my boy, I am afraid we must wait until later today."
In Pemberley, he hardly ever missed his morning exercise, indeed even in London, with its limited areas for a gallop, did he ride nearly every morning.
The groom offered him one of the other horses in the stable as an alternative, but a nicker and a look from Galahad had Darcy chuckling silently. He refused the offer and thanked the groom, telling him that he would be back by noon.
Remembering his first round of the estate with Bingley, Darcy took the footpath that led to the woods. It was parallel to the field that he frequented in his morning rides, the flatlands of Hertfordshire were definitely ideal for gallops. As he walked, his musings ran from horses, to his current reading, The Prince of Abissinia: A Tale by Samuel Johnson, to a recent letter from his steward, and finally to a certain female with sparkling, intelligent eyes who took temporary residence at Netherfield as well.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was an enigma. Any other female from society who had seen what she had of his unusual and unfortunate circumstances would no doubt have used the knowledge to her advantage. In what capacity, Darcy was afraid to even think of. But true to her word, Elizabeth Bennet had never once hinted at what she knew.
When she arrived at Netherfield Park a few days ago to care for her sister, Darcy was unsure as how to proceed with her, for surely they were not mere acquaintances, nor did he think he could claim a friendship with her just yet. Neither would he dwell on his reactions and the feelings they conjured upon seeing her arrive. The way she had looked, as if she belonged to nature, to the forrest, to the sea—indeed commanded them all—had him acting the fool. Women had never intimidated him, indeed if he was honest, he had come very close to feeling contempt for them, especially the ladies that Society bred. So he had thought why was it that this particular lady, the daughter of a country gentleman, with no wealth or connections to speak of, unsettled him so? It was her eyes, her face, her wit. He had answered his own question. He was in no danger, that he had known, but he must be very careful. He would not want to pay her undue attention.
So he had avoided Elizabeth Bennet as best he could, when they encountered each other in the library, he had fought against a great pull to discuss with her the book she selected. He had answered her greeting in a nonchalant manner and in the short conversation they had, proceeded in the same way. But as she left the library, his eyes had followed her form, he felt regret and felt something was amiss. The next morning, he had been surprised to discover that she was an early a riser as he. In the morning light, he had questioned himself; and why could he not admire her? Nothing would come of it of course, except perhaps friendship. And what was so wrong with that? He would be careful, he had told himself. And with that, he had talked to her freely, marveled at the liveliness of her mind, and had the best morning meal in recent memory.
Now, as he continued on his walk, he tried to shift his thoughts from her, trying to heed his own warnings. Looking around, he was surprised to see how far he had walked. He realized that had he not only reached the woods, but was in fact, in its midst. He stopped and listened to the sounds around him. Feeling the stillness of the woodlands, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and cleared his mind.
Upon opening his eyes, he launched into a run, feeling the ground beneath his booted feet. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, felt the muscles in his legs respond to the challenge. He slowed down once in a while to catch his breath, only to pick up his pace again.
After horse riding, running was his second preferred exercise. In Pemberley, he would complete a circuit of the woods near the house on a fine day. But he ran only in wooded areas, therefore completely forsaking the activity when he was in Town, fencing and boxing being very good alternatives, of course.
After a significant length of time, Darcy slowed down to a walk. He felt invigorated, he found this quite surprising as his morning had not gone according to his plans. Untying his neckcloth, he used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck. If he remembered correctly, about a hundred or so yards from were he was, off the path, was a brook. He walked on, finding the gurgling brook exactly as he remembered it. And as he and Bingley did on their last visit there, he stooped down and cupped his hands for a drink of the cool water. Feeling refreshed, he sat on a fallen log, took off his jacket, and let himself cool down.
The brook continued on into the woods, following the trail of the sparkling waters with his eyes, Darcy noticed in the distance an odd shape. His curiosity piqued, he gathered up his jacket and neckcloth and followed the brook.
What he saw delighted the child in him; a large beech tree rose from the sloping ground, allowing for its exposed roots to tangle magnificently, creating a perfect cave for any child—or adult for that matter. He walked to the tree, bent down and entered the hollow. Inside, the ground was covered with dried leaves, he settled down on a flat rock and leaned against the thick roots.
As a child he had often roamed the woods of Pemberley, it was always his joy when he discovered something like this. Once, he and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, happened into a huge fallen oak tree, its branches and roots spread out heavenwards. That setting and their childhood imagination brought them to the Holy Crusades, to Perseus bearing Medusa's head, to dragons that could almost never be defeated by swords made of wooden sticks. Darcy grinned, it was definitely a very good morning.
Looking up, from the gaps in the roots, he could see the sun shining from in between the foliage, the sight relaxed him. And after a while lulled him to sleep.
Elizabeth traversed the footpath that led to the woods. Her intended destination was her Reading Tree. She clutched a small basket containing her morning meal and the borrowed book from the Netherfield library. The items had been prepared for her by cook with the assistance of Molly, the maid who waited on Jane and herself. And considering the weight of the basket, she pondered if cook presumed her famished. Elizabeth paused and oriented herself of her location. Coming from Longbourn, she would have needed to walk farther, for despite her tree being on Longbourn land, it was very near the border. Coming from Netherfield, she just needed to go off the path and walk on some two hundred yards further into the woods, in the process she would cross the border between the two properties.
With Jane feeling much better, and the sun shining brightly, Elizabeth had happily heeded her sister's advice to enjoy the outdoors. As she reached the woods, she untied her bonnet and raised her face up to the sky. A mild gust of wind made her curls dance. How she loved the outdoors! It was as if the trees called to her, as if the fields waited for her. How many times had she been late for meals, how many times had her mother sent a servant to look for her, for Elizabeth admitted that when she was out of doors, time meant little.
Going off the footpath, Elizabeth found the brook that flowed near her tree. She followed it until she saw the familiar sight of her Reading Tree. She was but twelve when she and Jane discovered the large beech tree with its thick roots perfect for climbing above, its cave-like hollow perfect for hiding beneath. She and Jane had vowed to keep it their secret, and that they did. But with growing up, the adventures in the beech tree had finally ended. Jane had not ventured there for years now, instead only reminisced fondly of it with her sister. For her part, Elizabeth still frequented the place, but now thought of it more as her Reading Tree.
It was some years ago when she discovered a part of the tangle of roots that formed a perfect seat. After that, she often brought a book with her on her walks and sat on that spot, the hours flying away. Years of use smoothed down the niche and proved even more comfortable for Elizabeth's reading purposes.
When she reached her tree, she unpinned her hair from its simple bun as she customarily did in her time alone there, she then set down the basket on a small boulder nearby. By custom, she would next remove her half-boots so as to enable her to curl in a comfortable position. But that morning, Elizabeth was so startled by what she found that it was one of the few times in her life that nervousness almost took over her.
As she bent to remove her half-boots, she sensed—more than saw or heard—the presence of another. Turning quickly, she espied from between the gaps in the roots a form reclined as if in rest from inside the root cave, his back was to her. Gasping, she stumbled back.
It is a man!
Her great surprise caused her heart to drum in her chest, for never in the years she visited had she encountered any other human being aside from Jane in this part of the woods. Could he be a poacher? A bandit hiding from the authorities? Elizabeth stood frozen, undecided as how to proceed.
Mentally shaking herself, she squared her shoulders and moved slightly closer. She observed that the man was unaware of her, indeed he seemed to not be moving at all. In sudden alarm, Elizabeth thought if he was perhaps dead, but the sounds of deep, even breathing stilled her panic, the man was asleep. She gained more courage by this fact and moved to the side quietly until she could see his face, all the while ready to run if need be.
Mr. Darcy!
Her shock and simultaneous relief was so great as she beheld his sleeping form. What on earth was he doing here? Fighting back a sudden hysterical giggle, she realized that he really did live up to her secret pet name for him, The Hiding Gentleman. This time, however, she doubted very much that it was Miss Bingley who drove him here.
Studying Darcy closely, her eyes widened, it dawned on her all at once that he was very informally attired. In just a shirt, breeches and boots, and with his neck bare, she felt that she ought to look away, but her eyes would not move away from his form. Asleep, his expression was boyish, a short lock of dark hair rested on his forehead. Elizabeth was unconsciously charmed. Reflecting on how handsome he was, she recalled the numerous expressions she had seen on his face before; embarrassed, aloof, amused, thoughtful, annoyed. Yet perceiving him now in his most vulnerable, she felt that this was his most honest expression. He was an impressive man, and Elizabeth was indeed impressed.
Embarrassment suddenly claiming her, she moved back and in the process stepped on a dry twig. The snapping wood sounded to Elizabeth's ears like an explosion in the relative quiet of the woods. She winced as in that precise moment Darcy's eyes flew open, startling her with their instant alertness. She flushed as his gaze pinned her to where she stood.
Not knowing how to proceed, she curtsied hastily.
"Mr. Darcy."
Darcy had not realized that he had fallen asleep, indeed, he held a fantastic thought for an infinite second that it was a wood nymph with Elizabeth Bennet's face who stood before him. With her hair down and her cheeks rosy, she could certainly be one. He marveled at the shiny dark tresses that fell around her shoulders. He imagined it was not so difficult an act to let down her hair, especially from the simple bun she seemed to prefer. But the difference it presented was staggering. It felt more intimate, what was it about her hair let down as it was that made Darcy feel he knew her closely? Perhaps she really was a wood nymph employing her magic on him.
It was only when she said his name and curtsied that he convinced himself that it was the real person who stood before him. Somehow, in the middle of the woods, the had encountered each other.
Abruptly sitting up, he had the presence of mind to look and see if anyone else was with her. Heat rose to his face, heaven above, was he doomed to forever find himself in unsettling and embarrassing situations with this woman?
"It is just myself." She said somewhat shyly.
"Miss Elizabeth, I beg your pardon, I must have fallen asleep."
She smiled at him, her cheeks still pink. "No need to apologize, sir. You were at your leisure before I, uh, encountered you."
He studied her face, perceiving her embarrassment suddenly lessened his, he cleared his throat and made an attempt at conversation. "I was out for a walk when I stumbled upon this tree."
"Oh, yes. It is certainly something to behold."
Darcy noticed how Elizabeth diverted her eyes, it seemed that she could not look at him directly. Belatedly, he remembered his discarded jacket and neckcloth. He sighed. Shaking his head, he smiled as he stood and went out of the root cave. He was by now resigned to the fact that Miss Elizabeth Bennet must think him an utter fool.
"It seems, Miss Elizabeth, that I am fated to embarrass myself whenever I encounter you alone."
His jest broke the unease, Elizabeth laughed and Darcy felt better for it.
"I must make sure then to always have another with me, must it be another human or will any animal do? Kitty's pup perhaps?"
"Yes, a pup would be more preferable so that in the instance that I do humiliate myself again, the animal can not speak of it."
"Ah, but you assured me just now, sir, that if I were not to be by myself, then these episodes would not continue."
"Indeed, you are right. Therefore, you must always bring Miss Kitty's dog with you, and if we meet I shall endeavor not to make a fool of myself a fourth time."
"It would be the fifth if you count this meeting."
Darcy's laugh echoed through the woods. Shaking his head, he looked at Elizabeth's smiling face with admiration.
"Would it surprise you, Miss Elizabeth, if I say that the more of my follies I unintentionally expose to you, the lesser I feel embarrassed?"
"Then by now, we should be as comfortable as old friends."
He grinned at her. She grinned back.
"And how is Miss Bennet this morning, I pray the day finds her feeling better?"
"Yes, very much so that I have been persuaded to go on my morning walk. She would not take no for an answer."
"That is very good to hear."
"Perhaps tomorrow we may find ourselves heading home."
The thought depressed Darcy more than it should. He pushed the feeling away and smiled at Elizabeth. Suddenly remembering the garments he held, he hastily excused himself and, turning around, donned them as quickly as he could, his neckcloth he tied in a single knot. When he judged himself presentable enough, he faced her. Darcy noted with some regret that she had pinned her hair up in what seemed a hurried manner, for tendrils of hair framed her face and neck. The effect was so artless, so charmingly disheveled that Darcy could not for long mourn the loss of the sight of her beautiful long hair. He caught himself staring and cleared his throat.
Elizabeth felt his stare and fought against the sudden shyness she felt. Endeavoring to make light their situation, she teased him.
"Was I mistaken, sir, or did you really say that you were out for a walk?"
He nodded. "Indeed, madam. When it is not a possibility to ride, I instead go on long walks."
"Why, I do believe you must be very careful in letting that fact known to people, Mr. Darcy, for certain ladies might suddenly declare themselves great walkers and seek to accompany you in your walks!" She smiled archly. "After all, walking together can be more personal than riding together." She looked meaningfully at him, both of them remembering a conversation in the Netherfield drawing room where Miss Bingley insisted that riding was her passion as well.
Darcy frowned at the very image of sharing his walks—indeed, runs—with Caroline Bingley. His frown darkened in distaste. "I imagine if Miss Bingley did join me for a walk, she would beg off after a quarter of a mile."
"You do her an injustice, sir!" Elizabeth walked back to the boulder that held her simple breakfast, Darcy followed. "She would probably reach half a mile in sturdy shoes if it was in pursuit of you. Although her lovely complexion might suffer from the exertion."
Darcy could imagine the flush that would cover Caroline Bingley's face, for he had seen her once exert herself physically, it was when he had successfully evaded her in Hyde Park. He had known that Miss Bingley was trying to catch up with him, she had called out to him in fact. But he had pretended not to hear and had proceeded in his walk with twice as much speed as was his normal. From the corner of his eye, he checked to see if he had lost her, he saw her stop and lean against a gate to catch her breath. How red her face had become from her exertions!
Darcy held back a chuckle, he knew Elizabeth was baiting him. "You tease me and yet you know the trouble I have gone through to avoid her."
"Oh, indeed I do, sir!"
"Yes, well..." His face had turned a slight shade of red.
"Fear not, Mr. Darcy. I shall continue to strive to be of service to you in that respect. I know of many a place in Hertfordshire where a person may hide and bide his time for a while." This speech was delivered with utmost seriousness that it became all the more comical for it. Both burst in laughter at her statement, dispelling any lingering awkwardness they felt in their encounter.
She continued. "But you mentioned that it was not possible for you to ride this morning, why ever not? Has your admirer stood sentry in the entrance of the stables?"
Darcy found her wit charming, how many times had she made him laugh? More than any person outside his immediate family for certain, not even counting Bingley. Conversation with Elizabeth Bennet was novel and refreshing for him.
"Heaven forbid! Fortunately, 'twas not that. The groom master informed me that my horse, Galahad, had a loose shoe and needed to be shod."
"Sir Galahad, the most perfect of the knights that achieved the Holy Grail. You had not mentioned that preference when we spoke of books yesterday, it must have impacted you so to name your horse after the knight. I had not thought of you as one for the romantic Arthurian legends, Mr Darcy."
Darcy's eyebrows raised. She had contemplated his reading preferences, he wondered in what other way had she thought of him. He felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.
"My interest in reading material varies very much, as you might know, and yes that does, indeed, cover the Arthurian legends."
"Then we shall add that to our list of books to be discussed." Elizabeth said looking pleased.
She motioned to the basket on the boulder. "Cook was so very kind as to send me out with these." She unfolded the piece of cloth that covered the plain fare. "Might you share in an outdoor meal?"
Having left Netherfield early without breaking his fast, and after his morning exercise, Darcy felt his stomach grumble at the sight of the simple food.
"I do not want to deprive you of your meal."
"What nonsense, sir! Do you take me for a glutton?" She laughed aloud. "Indeed, I had planned on leaving some of this to whatever little creature might be wanting breakfast. Instead I shall share it with another human being, that is if you would want to of course."
"Well, in that case, I happily accept." He bowed his thanks.
Elizabeth set about preparing the food. The small boulder was significantly flat, making it an ideal makeshift table. She placed the cloth on top of the boulder, and laid out the contents of the basket; two sugary, buttery bunns, four slices of bread, more than a handful of walnuts, two plums and the jug of milk.
"Cook must think me to have such an appetite, for truly I am not acquainted with any lady who can eat so much for breakfast, well—perhaps some." Instantly reversing her statement as she thought of her two youngest sisters. She gestured to the food. "Please."
"Ladies first, Miss Elizabeth." Smiling, Darcy bowed formally.
With a chuckle, Elizabeth took one of the bunns and then sat on her root seat. Darcy took the other bunn and leaned against the roots right beside her.
They ate in companionable silence for the first few minutes. Open book held in her free hand, Elizabeth attempted to read, but a mere minute into the page, she knew she would not make any progress. The man who stood beside her distracted her, indeed, she was aware when he had started on the walnuts, now as he finished off his second slice of bread, she gave up. Elizabeth closed the book and laid it on her lap. She selected a plum and was on her second bite when her companion engaged her in conversation.
"Pray tell me, Miss Elizabeth, have I wandered into your father's estate? Or is this still part of Netherfield Park?"
"I am afraid, sir, that you entered Longbourn lands when you passed that tree." Smiling, she pointed with her finger. "But never fear, we do not prosecute trespassers nowaday, not in this century at least."
Darcy laughed at her arch look, then shaking his head he continued. "You often come here then, Miss Elizabeth?"
She grinned widely. "You have discovered my secret, sir." She laid a hand lovingly on the tangled roots of the beech tree. "This is my Reading Tree. Jane and I came upon it many years ago in our childhood, it has played a vital role in our adventures, you see." Her eyes twinkled as she remembered. "But, alas, one has to grow up. So, Jane stopped going here, but I—well, let us just say that for the past few years it has served a different purpose for me." She patted the book resting on her lap.
"I imagine, you've finished many a book here, and that seat is as familiar to you as that of a favoured one in Longbourn."
"Yes. Yes, that is very true, Mr. Darcy." Her smile deepened. "So now you must promise me that you shall not breathe a word of this place! I value the privacy of my Reading Tree very much, sir." She said it with such gaiety and levity, but Darcy knew that she meant every word.
"I give you my word that I shall keep the secret of your Reading Tree until my dying day." He said solemnly.
Elizabeth looked at him, she was no longer smiling, but her face reflected an emotion that Darcy could not name. For a mere moment, their eyes met.
It was Elizabeth who recovered first. Embarrassed at the sudden solemnity, she conjured a smile and motioned to the jug of milk.
"Oh dear, how shall we split that?"
Darcy straightened from the tree. "'Tis simple, you must have it."
"But you have naught to drink, sir. It cannot be pleasant, especially after the sweetness of the bunn."
"The cool water of the brook will do just fine for me, I thank you."
"No indeed, I can not finish the milk myself and it shall go to waste." Her brows furrowed as she spoke, delighting Darcy as he watched her resolve her small problem. "You must have it instead, sir."
Darcy chuckled. "Drink up, Miss Elizabeth, I shall finish what you can not."
"Oh. Well, I must say that simplifies it."
Self-consciously, she drank from the jug. After a few seconds, she handed it to Darcy.
"I am afraid 'tis no longer warm."
Darcy took the jug and lifted it to his lips. He was conscious of the fact that her lips touched the same rim mere moments ago. The knowledge left him feeling heady.
Elizabeth for her part, was conscious of that fact a well, and wondered if they were behaving inappropriately in some aspect. Well, with their history, inappropriate was a relative term. She wanted to touch her lips, for they suddenly felt sensitive.
Clearing his throat, Darcy spoke. "I must thank you again for sharing your breakfast, Miss Elizabeth."
"Not at all, Mr. Darcy, the pleasure was all mine."
They grinned at each other, resuming their easy companionship as they agreed to head back to Netherfield.
A/N:
Yes, indeed, the name of Darcy's horse is my small tribute to Colin Firth (see Kingsman)! Who here does not love that man? I know I do! ;D
In this chapter, I went a little easy on Darcy, gave him a break from too much embarrassment so to speak. Instead I hoped to focus on the development of his and Elizabeth's friendship and the beginnings of their attraction to each other. I hope you enjoyed the results!
I also hope that this story, in its small way, can grant you a small reprieve from what is happening out in our world. Be safe, everyone, and spread kindness in any way you can, please.