As we approached the first farm, my heart sank. I had forgot to bring even a pocketful of sweets for the children I would meet.
Three hours later, Mr Johnson said apologetically that he had an appointment with the engineer charged with building the new bridge and begged to continue our introductions on the following day. “Perhaps we shall just finish at Travers cottage around the bend there if that is agreeable to you, Mrs Darcy?”
“Whatever you say, Mr Johnson,” I said faintly.
‘Around the bend’was in fact quite a long way. When we finally arrived, Mrs Travers wiped her hands on her apron, welcomed the steward, and curtseyed to me before inviting us to sit at her kitchen table.
She offered refreshments and I said, “That is kind of you, Mrs Travers, but Mr Johnson does not have a great deal of time to spare. When I next come, I would be happy to stay a little longer. Tell me what your husband farms?”
The conversation proceeded along these lines. Eventually,after hearing about the woman’s children—six, those half-grown were out helping their father—and her livestock—two dozen chickens, ten geese, a pair of milk goats and a yearly hog for fattening—I began to notice the woman glancing uneasily between me and the steward.
“I wonder, Mr Johnson, if you would be so good as to go and check on John. I do not want him disturbing Mrs Travers’s laying hens by pacing up and down next to the fence. I shall join you shortly,” I said, turning as majestically as I knew how back to the farmer’s wife and dismissing the man.
From out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was quite taken aback. His moustache twitched as if he was formulating an objection, and he paused overlong before he stood and said, “Very good, ma’am.”
Ten minutes later, I emerged and went to the wooden crate John had turned on its side for me to use as a mounting block.
“Is all well with Mrs Travers?” the steward asked as he helped me up.
“Perfectly. Lead on if you will.”
We turned around and headed the seven or eight miles back towards the great house. Mr Johnson’s buoyant spirits were somewhat subdued, while I, now suffering a blistering pain from my waist to my knees, sought to distract myself with gentle questions posed to John. The boy answered me artlessly—he really was a very charming child.
“Is Thistle tiring out, do you think?” I asked, patting my mare’s neck.
“Most likely she is, ma’am. She’s old as anything, I wager, but the master don’t send any ofhisriding stock to the knackers.”
“I am glad to hear it. Have you been to school?” I asked in gentle irony, having heard his version of proper speech.
“Mr Roger’s place I have. Decent sort, Mr Rogers. But I won’t say I weren’t glad of a chance to go up to the big house and toss hay.”
“Ma’am,”Mr Johnson interjected coolly.
“Oh begging your pardon, yes, ma’am.”
Eventually, we reached a fork in the road. The steward pulled up and turned around, and I gently brought my horse to a stop.
“Is this where you leave us, Mr Johnson? I have had an enlightening day. By your description this morning, I expected a much more reserved welcome than I generally received. No doubt your advice and company have smoothed my way.” I looked at him with piercing directness, having spoken purely for the sake of irony and wishing to put him on notice I was no one’s fool.
“My pleasure,” he said, back to smirking at me. “Shall we continue again tomorrow?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “You know quite well I will not be capable of sitting in a saddle before Wednesday next. I will mark that morning in my calendar if you are agreeable.”
“Perfectly so, ma’am,” he said with a jaunty salute.
John led Thistle down the road, and he was soon chattering freely without the looming presence of the steward and frequently forgetting to properly address me as his mistress. I asked many questions and gathered a horde of trivial estate gossip and lore. When Pemberley could be seen in the distance at last, I asked how far away we were.
“Perhaps not even two miles, missus.”
“Perfect. Help me down just here.” I pointed my crop at a log on the verge. “I fancy a walk.”
“A walk?” he asked, eyes bulging in horror.
“Yes. Take Thistle back to the stables and give her a treat for her labours today.”
“Yes, ma’am. But I shouldn’t leave you on the road alone.”
“Perhaps if we were not so close, no. But you see for yourself the house is just there in the distance. Send for my maid, and ask her to walk out to me. I will meet her halfway or thereabouts. Will that suit?”
