Never one to spare the sharp edge of her tongue, she profoundly wounded my feelings with her words, and I did not disguise the pain in my voice when I cried, “Is my assistance so offensive to you?”
“I would rather not be under an obligation to you, sir!” she cried hotly in reply. And then lowering her voice, she reminded me that she, too, had a pride worth salvaging, and rather than allowmeto rob her of it, she would submit herself to the indignity of being ruled by her male relations. This last declaration was spoken with her back to me in a tone of wretched exhaustion.
Had she not then begun to tremble again while scraping madly at the invisible traces of the men who had intruded upon her sense of safety, I might have continued to entertain my insulted feelings. Instead, I reached for her almost reflexively. Her argument for the case of her dignity struck home. I understood her, and though she did not want my help—or even me, it seemed—I would support her cause to salvage her hard-won self-respect.
But first, she must be made to rest by force, so I swept her up and carried her to her room, deposited her on her bed, and in the stern, no-nonsense voice of my father, I said, “Go to sleep.”
She apparently did so the instant her head touched the pillow, or perhaps she had simply collapsed from exhaustion. I put a blanket over her inert form and closed the door silently behind me.
Back in the kitchen, I stood by the stove and stared unseeing at its grease-stained grate as I thought what to do. First things first, I decided, stepping out to find Sam.
“Fetch the ancient next door.”
The poor man returned with cowering reluctance and stood before me with a sullen, downcast expression.
“Do you know Mrs. Jennings’s man?”
“Smith, sir.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“He and Cook stay at the Reaches.”
“The boarding house behind the saddlery?”
“Aye.”
“Go first thing, before they come. Tell them the mistress is feverish and does not want them here for fear it is catching.”
“Is she, then?” he asked, looking around him fearfully.
“You had best not stay. Sam will take you in the dog cart and explain things on the way.”
As we stood under the sodden night sky on the back step with Mrs. Edmonton’s man huddled in the cart, I spoke to Sam with the required bluntness.
“How much will be necessary to buy his silence?”
“Hmm. Well, sir, nottoomuch lest he think he owns a better secret than he do. Ten bob would set ’im up fer life.”
I retrieved my coin purse and handed over the required amount. “Make him understand he cannot speak of any commotion here—ever.”
“Aye, sir.”
“After you have made sure the cook and backhouse man will not come for a few days, I need you to stay here meanwhile. I shall send a maid from—”
“Maggie is a right one, sir.”
“Um, thank you. I shall send Maggie and have Keller make up your bed roll.”
“And you, sir? Nearly daybreak now.”
“I shall go as soon as you have come back, so do not dawdle.”
I rode home in a stupor of exhaustion and melancholy. With the faint and familiar jingle of the bridle rings, the creaking of my saddle, and my horse’s occasional snorts of contentment to be clopping his way back to the stable, we picked our way through the field behind Mrs. Jennings’s house and made for the road home. By the time I had crossed the chalk hills, the wind picked up and swept away the clouds, leaving what remained of the night both clear and frigid.
Under a blanket of fading stars, I thought of how little I knew of hard things, how seldom I witnessed the somber depth of a winter night, and how hard I had fallen in love.When and how I had crossed over into a country from which there was no return was a mystery. She had given me no hope—yet, I loved her unshakably, and this bewildered me as much as fatigue and the aftereffects of fighting.
As I came down into the valley, Pemberley welcomed me like the ancient mother she was. The doors came open quietly, the groom stepped out of the shadow to take my horse to the stable, and I was met discretely by people I trust.
