“Excellent,” Elizabeth replied mildly, and took another sip of tea.
Mr Darcy did likewise, then stopped suddenly. He frowned. “Come to think of it, he has not been home the last two times I’ve gone to see him. He must be working himself to the bone.”
Elizabeth said nothing to this. From what her new husband had said, she hoped she could depend on him to treat the Stephans family with compassion. Mr Darcy would know of their troubles soon enough.
They departed Pemberley an hour later. As the carriage rattled down the lane, Elizabeth grew increasingly nervous. Stephans was already a reliable ally and friend, and Eva, at first so sceptical of her, had honoured her with her confidences. MrDarcycouldhelp, but would he? Or had his fine words been only that — fine words with nothing more solid behind them?
Weeds lined the dirt drive as they approached the stone farmhouse, and Elizabeth could see at a glance that the place was not in good order. Eva had been right to worry. The wheat still stood in the field, though it was already late for harvesting. If it was not brought in soon, the coming rains would completely ruin the crop.
Suddenly, a ewe bolted out in front of the carriage as it rolled slowly down the bumpy drive. The coachman pulled heavily on the reins, stopping the coach just in time. Mr Darcy put out a hand to protect her from falling forward and injuring herself. He did not take his hand from her arm until the carriage had shuddered to a stop in front of the house. “Are you unhurt?” he asked, looking worried.
Elizabeth nodded. “I am quite well.”
“Very good,” Mr Darcy said with a sigh of relief. “The sheep are out. I wonder where Mr Stephans could be that he would not notice that,” he added under his breath.
He helped her climb down from the carriage, and they walked to the front door together. They were greeted by a small boy with a head full of curly blond hair and a face barely discernible under all the dirt. Elizabeth knelt when they drew closer, seeing that he was frightened by their arrival. “Hello there. Are your Mama or Papa home?” she asked.
The boy nodded and looked back at the house. “Mama’s upstairs with Papa. She has to change his bandages.”
Mr Darcy came up beside her and helped her rise. He furrowed his brow. “Is your papa injured?” he asked.
“Yes. He broke up his leg. Mama said I couldn’t see, cause his bone was sticking through the skin. But I peeked anyway.” He backed away from them, hiding halfway behind the wooden door that she could only guess led into the kitchen. “Papa can’t walk now. Mama says he has to rest.”
Mr Darcy looked at Elizabeth with a question in his eyes, but he asked nothing aloud. “Will you run and go get your mama? Tell her that Mr Darcy has come to call.”
The boy nodded and went back into the house. He was gone for a long time. Finally, they heard a stirring from within. Mrs Stephans opened the door, her face ashen and marked by lines of worry. “Mr Darcy,” she said, her voice shaking. “How nice to see you again.”
“Yes, it has been some weeks, hasn’t it?” Mr Darcy began. Elizabeth was tempted to reach over and grab his hand, cautioning him from losing his temper, but restrained herself. Coming from an unwanted wife, such a gesture might be as likely to make his temper boil over as to quiet it. If the Stephans were to suffer his anger, it must not be due to her mismanagement.
“My husband is not here at the moment, sir. I apologise —”
“We hear your husband has injured himself, Mrs Stephans. Your son told us that his leg is badly broken.”
Her face blanched an even whiter shade, if that were possible. Elizabeth stepped forward. “We only want to help, Mrs Stephans.”
The woman looked on the verge of collapse, though whether from relief or from exhaustion, Elizabeth could not know. “Won’t you come in?” she asked.
They followed the woman into a small parlour. Even at the best of times, it must have been a rather rustic and unfinished space, but at the present, it had been abandoned entirely to disorder. It was evident that the place had not been cleaned in some time, for there was hardly a surface left untouched by dirt or dust.
“I apologise for the disarray,” Mrs Stephans said, shame-faced. “I have not been able to keep up with the house and the farm with my Henry down and out.”
“I had no idea things were so dire, Mrs Stephans. Why did Mr Stephans not say anything?” Mr Darcy asked. His tone was filled with compassion rather than anger. Hearing it, Elizabeth took a full breath for the first time since entering the house. The gentleness of that tone spoke clearly that the Stephans could expect help and understanding, not judgement and retribution.
“My husband was afraid you would be angry when you found out. He was determined to get better on his own, before you found out. But the doctor said he had to stay abed until it was properly healed. He’s only been able to hobble about the bedroom for the last few weeks, and then only if absolutely necessary.”
Mr Darcy held his hat in his hand, turning it over and over as if it helped him to think to do so. “I see that the wheat has still not been brought in,” he said.
Mrs Stephans hung her head. “The doctor thinks he’ll be able to get up in a couple of weeks. I’ve been trying to go out and cut and gather as much as I can. But with little Francis hanging about my skirts, and my fear for Henry, I have not been able to do as much as I’d hoped.”
“That is very brave of you, Mrs Stephans. But you could never have hoped to bring in the harvest all on your own,” he sighed. “I am sorry I did not know of your plight for so long. Do not worry, I will take care of everything. And please tell your husband that I will come and see him when he is able to receive visitors.”
Mrs Stephans covered her mouth and began to cry. Elizabeth leaned over and embraced the woman, who no doubt was releasing all the pent-up worry for her husband and family she had been carrying for so long. Francis came over to them and squeezed through their arms to crawl into his mother’s lap. “Mama cry?” he asked.
She laughed and ran her hand over the back of his head. “Yes, my darling boy, but they are not sad tears.” She looked up at Mr Darcy. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, sir. My Henry was so worried that you would cancel his lease on the farm and we would have to leave.”
“Nonsense,” he answered. “I would never do that to a fellow in need. Now, what needs to be done around the farm? I will enlist some of your neighbours to come and help you.”
When Mrs Stephans had dried her tears and told them all that had been left undone, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy took their leave. They visited several of the other tenants, firstly for their bridal visits and secondly to enlist their help for the Stephans family. Many of them were appalled that they had kept the secret from their neighbours for so long. Mr Darcy offered to pay them for their work in helping the Stephans, and, when several would have declined, insisted that he must be allowed to pay them for their labour.
