“After our tea I would delight in taking you—and anyone else who wishes to join— on a tour of the conservatory.”
Elizabeth gifted him with one of her most dazzling smiles, and he was equally glad that everyone else begged off on the grounds that they had already walked too much that day. And so it was that he set off, not long after, with Elizabeth on his arm.
Darcy had always adored the conservatory, and as a youth he had worked hard to cultivate exotic plants. He was established as the first person in Derbyshire to cultivate chrysanthemums, then newly arrived from China, and he had been thrilled to grow flame azaleas, using seeds from America. Now, more than a decade later, he was proud to show off his efforts to foster new varieties of each flowering plant. Elizabeth asked shrewd questions about cross pollination and was visibly excited with the stories of his successes.
Of course, there were many other native and exotic plants, and the pair spent an enjoyable hour exploring before finally emerging into the sculpture garden.
Elizabeth’s joy in viewing the various sculptures gave Darcy a renewed sense of wonder for pieces that were very familiar to him. She spent a long time studying a statue of two women wearing medieval mourning garb, including hoods and veils. She said, “I have seen so many beautiful statues in London, and now here, but I am still stunned to see how a sculptor is able to make stone look like fabric—and here, stone looks like sheer fabric—even though it is solid and opaque.”
“It is remarkable,” Darcy agreed. He felt a pang as he realised how many times he had walked past this sculpture with barely a glance. “I have done some wood carving, which in some ways resembles carving marble in that one takes away material in an attempt that the remainder depicts a figure or idea. I feel that it must be easier to sculpt with clay and add more and more clay to form details or additional figures and features.”
“I should love to see any of your wood carvings!” Elizabeth said.
Her eyes seemed to light up, as if she was looking forward to a treat, and he blushed. “I truly should not have mentioned my poor attempts out here amongst all these pieces of true art.”
“If I faithfully promise to have low expectations, will you show me?”
Darcy chuckled. “I suppose, in that case, that I should. This way, madam.” He led her to Pemberley’s still room, where he pointed to a long shelf mounted above the windows. On that shelf were an entire row of wooden birds, including some very rough attempts, displayed at one end, and detailed and proportional carvings, at the other.
“Oh!” Elizabeth said. “How charming! What age were you when you carved these first ones?”
“Eight.”
“You seemed to have developed the skill, sir,” she said as she inspected the last of the carved birds.
His cheeks still pink, he shook his head. “It is as nothing to an artist’s.”
“I disagree on two points. First, you carve wood and depict some of the loveliest creatures on the planet—and that makes you an artist, does it not? Second, I do not believe your skill is as high as that of many others, but it is far higher than some. It is notnothing—because, if it were, then many people’s efforts would be considered less than nothing, which is ridiculous.”
Darcy just laughed. “I love it when we disagree. I do not believe that I have ever before so enjoyed being shown to be wrong.”
His words made Elizabeth laugh, as well, and the tail end of their laughter caught the attention of Georgiana and the Gardiners as they approached the green parlour to await the dinner bell.
“Are you still laughing with Elizabeth, Brother?” Georgiana asked with the smirkiest smile that had ever graced her face.
“Yes, I am,” is all he said in response, but he realised that they had spent several hours together in what seemed like just a few minutes. He leant towards Elizabeth and whispered, “We explored so long, we never changed for dinner. But I think you look lovely as you are; shall we just pretend as if we meant to remain in these clothes?”
More bell-like laughter caressed his ears, and she nodded, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “You are the host, sir. I am certain that, in your own home, you can do no wrong.”
Her hand on his arm, they followed his guests into the parlour.
Five
Darcy feltexcited for another day of sightseeing with Elizabeth—but his anticipation was edged with sadness because it was the last day that Gardiner had carved from their travel plans to spend with the Darcys. Tomorrow Elizabeth and the Gardiners would leave for the Lake District. He hoped that he would see her soon, but there was certainly a possibility that he would not.
He pushed all of that aside. Why should he spoil the day’s pleasure with dark wonderings?
The carriage packed with a picnic luncheon and plenty of beverages, Darcy directed his driver to the cave known as the Devil’s Arse. He said, “I apologise for the less-than-proper label, but the place truly is worth visiting, and I believe you will understand its name once you are there.”
When the group arrived, each person was given a candle and a candle holder and seated in a small boat, which a tour guide paddled to a large cave entrance. There the ropes makers processed long fibres of hemp to make a kind of yarn they could twist together to make strong ropes. Another group of workers, positioned in a pocket that was well protected from draft, heatedanimal fat to be used to waterproof the ropes. All of this was narrated by the guide, a pale-skinned man with a strong Derby accent.
“And why do you make your ropes here in a cavern?” Elizabeth asked, looking around in wonder at the evidence that the ropes makers not only worked there, but lived there.
“As thee can see, miss, the work space be large and dry, and ’tis so every day of the yea’—and our ’ouses don’t need to stand up to rain no’ wind; we have the same weathe’ day in, day out.”
Their guide pointed out various aspects of rope making but then led them to see various chambers of the cave. Ropes had been laid along the path so that visitors could hold on as they clambered across rough, damp rocks. Holding onto them with one hand and the candle in the other, even Elizabeth moved slowly and carefully.
At one point, everyone froze; the water and air moving through a tunnel into the chamber they had reached made frequent sounds of flatulence.
