“Shall you deduct our rent? What am I to do if my pasture is flooded?”
“The great house is not damaged, is it?” This voice was spiteful. “What worry couldhehave?”
“Mr Darcy will not leave us to manage this ourselves.”
“Hissister was not swept away in a river of water down the street!” someone else said. “He has not suffered a thing!”
“You think this is a competition for who has lost the most?”
“What aboutmyhome and my sheep? How shall I pay my rent?”
“How shall Mr Darcy pay for all of this? He will evict us first.”
“Evict us?” another man cried. “Will we be evicted if we cannot pay?”
“What does he care so long as the great house is standing and he can go up to town whenever he likes?”
This man was shoved by another, and calls of outrage followed.There shall be a riot!Her stomach twisted with an awful fear. They were all grieving and afraid, and Elizabeth felt how the energy of the crowd shifted and built. It seemed to feed on itself, and the growing force needed an outlet or it was fit to burst. To her surprise, Darcy suddenly stood on a chair and climbed atop a table in front of the bar.
“Do you think I shall abandon you?” he cried.
For a moment Darcy held everyone’s attention, and Elizabeth was terrified what might happen—what they might do—if he lost it.
“I can scarcely speak of the awful calamity that has befallen us,” he said. “The ruins of your belongings are piled high in the street, the loss of your crops and livestock fills you with fear, and the deaths of your loved ones have broken your hearts.”
Some of the rumbling stopped, but there was still an angry energy in the room.
“Are we going to rebuild? Yes. Are we going to take care of one another? Yes. Shall I make allowances on rent day for what has happened? Yes.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy look over the crowd, shaking his head sadly. “You cannot think that I am going to sit in the house, idle and work-shy, when you have lost so much. Do you truly expect me to go to town?” he asked incredulously, looking at the man who had made the claim. “Is this your opinion of me?” he asked the group. “Is this the manner of landowner, the manner ofmanyou think I am?”
There were a few calls to the contrary, but not enough in Elizabeth’s opinion, and the crowd still pressed nearer.
“Have I not always been willing to sacrifice every private consideration and personal enjoyment for the sake of any one of you?” There were approving murmurs as people looked at one another. Elizabeth watched some nod, but many still had their arms folded and were frowning.
“Do you think your losses are not my losses?” Darcy cried, grabbing everyone’s attention once more. “I can assure each and every one of you that I am as shocked and affected by what has happened, what has happened tous.”
It struck her that Darcy was a very young man. Most in this room were ten years his senior, at least. All of his wealth and influence would be disregarded if he could not have the confidence of these frightened people. Had he ever faced such a disaster, such loss, or so madding a crowd in his life?
“We must get to work. Do not be discouraged! A year’s hard work will restore the value of your properties, and I promise that none—do you hear me?—noneshall be evicted for being unable to pay.”
He took a moment to pause and let those words settle into everyone’s hearts. “I cannot toss provisions into the crowd and have women and children trampled,” he said in a calmer voice. “I cannot have a lawless mob roaming about, deciding for themselves what ought to be done. We must organise into committees for every task, just as we have done to clear the streets today.
“I want to hear from one person from every holding. I need to understand your most pressing needs.”
The crowd began to rise again in energy and people called out, but when Darcy raised a hand, they fell quiet. “I shall feel obliged if each of you will await your turn, and come and shake my hand, one by one. I shall not leave until I have spoken to everyone. Tell me your greatest concern, and tell me what you are able to do to help your neighbour.
“Form a line, if you will, and Mr Stevenson shall keep an account of all that you ask for as you speak with me.”
Mr Stevenson was still outside; through the window Elizabeth saw he was in animated conversation with another man, and he then drove away in the wagon. She saw Darcy turn and notice the same, and their eyes met. He absolutely started at the sight of her, and she saw confusion be swiftly replaced by a powerful look of entreaty.
The throng’s restless energy grew as they realised the steward was gone; Darcy lost their attention.What might happen if we do not begin directly?It was a sickening feeling, and she was certain in that moment that it was only a fraction of what Darcy must be feeling.
Elizabeth nodded and sat at the table with all the authority she could muster and opened a notebook. No one came forward, and she opened the travelling inkwell set, carefully opened the lid, and dipped the quill in, her hand poised and her gaze steady, overlooking the crowd expectantly.
“Miss Bennet shall keep a record of all that you say, and I promise I will not leave until I have heard from everyone.” Darcy climbed down from the table, stood in front of it, and waited. Slowly, the last angry sensations in the room shifted to a calmer energy, and the people formed a rough line.
She might have thought that Darcy was unaccustomed, even reluctant, to have people touch him, but here were fifty tenants, villagers, and half-gentlemen all shaking his hand, some clapping his shoulder; sometimes he grasped an upper arm in sympathy. Darcy remained in close conversation with each man, hearing his concern, his fear, his loss, and promising to do whatever he could for them.
