Page 139 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

“I see. Of course—as you wish.”

“And please tell Jenny that I would like to have a cup of tea with her and share some memories, anytime she wishes to.”

“Oh…I do not think she would have tea with you, sir. I can barely convince her to keep me company from time to time. But she will gladly tell you anything that she remembers, I am sure of that.”

“I am sure we will find an acceptable compromise about the tea and conversation,” Darcy said lightly. “Now please excuse me, I am going out for a ride. I will leave word for Bingley, in case he returns in the meantime.”

In less than half an hour, Darcy’s horse had been prepared and he set out on the same path he had taken on the day he arrived. He longed for solitude and silence, and there was no better place than the secluded bay he had discovered.

So now he was certain that his mother had at least two lady friends among the neighbours. It was most likely that one of these two had a connection with the man behind the letters. Mrs Sarah Crawford was still there, but Beatrice had sadly passed away. Her daughter, however, was still there. Julia? She was a little older than him—did he ever meet her? Quite unlikely; or perhaps when he was very young, as he could not recall any of those names.

Darcy’s solitary reverie ended when the sun reached its zenith around noon and suddenly the clouds rolled in and the wind became stronger. The weather was still pleasant—even more so than the previous warmth—and the waves crashing over the shore were inviting. He abandoned any restraint, looked around to be certain there was nobody watching, and indulged himself with another swim—this time in the full light of day—before he finally returned home.

∞∞∞

The Gardiner children’s enthusiasm and excitement for swimming was unluckily spoiled by the clouds and the cold wind. The bathing machine was still at the shore, but Mrs Gardiner decided she should not risk them catching a cold. However, their new friends—Annie and James—who lived only two houses away—called for them over the fence, holding their puppy and kitten. After much pleading, Mrs Gardiner reluctantly allowed them to go and play with their new friends, but only after she paid a brief call on their mother, Julia Norwood. As Jane claimed a headache and Mary was busy reading, only Elizabeth joined her aunt.

Mrs Norwood was a lady of around thirty years, with a flawless figure, elegant manners and a most charming smile on her beautiful face. She was thrilled to make their acquaintance and invited them to join her for tea.

The three ladies enjoyed their time in the garden, at a small table under a parasol, with a pleasant view of the sea, where they could keep a close eye on the children playing.

“Please know that they are always welcome to come and play with James and Annie. They rarely meet new friends of their own age here, so they are overjoyed. I know Mrs Crawford rents room, so the other guests might be disturbed by children’s games, but here they have complete privacy,” Mrs Norwood said, and Mrs Gardiner thanked her most warmly.

“The children are simply wonderful,” Elizabeth interjected. “They have only known each other for two days and are already best friends.”

“True. It is a joy to observe their candour and the kindness of their hearts. It is such a pity that most of us change once we grow up,” their host admitted.

“George and David are planning to take swimming lessons from James,” Mrs Gardiner said in jest.

“Their father—my husband—taught both Annie and James to swim when they were almost infants. As a naval captain, my husband is very fond of the sea and so are the children. But he also taught them to be prudent and careful, to avoid any danger, as the sea can be deceptive. He has often told them that no swimmer, as good as he might be, could take on the sea and win the battle against it.”

“What a wonderful lesson, indeed,” Mrs Gardiner exclaimed. “They must miss their father very much.”

“We all do. We employ our time as best we can, waiting for his return. They are busy with their studies and games and I try to support them as much as I can. And in my spare time, I play the pianoforte.”

“You play so beautifully. Do you practice every day?” Elizabeth enquired.

“I am not sure how beautiful it is, but I learned to play when I was very young, probably at the same time I learned to walk,” she jested. “I hope I did not disturb you.”

“No, not at all. Quite the contrary—we have been admiring your performances since the first day we arrived.”

“Do you play, Miss Bennet?”

“A little and very ill—at least compared with you. But I am knowledgeable enough to realise my deficiency, so I deserve praise at least for that,” Elizabeth laughed.

“Please come and practice with me whenever you wish—I would be delighted with your company.”

“Thank you, Mrs Norwood, I might do that. Not to practice myself, but for the pleasure of watching you practice.”

The conversation continued in the same pleasant manner until Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner realised how quickly the time had passed. More clouds covered the sky and the sound of the waves was amplified by the increasing wind. They decided to return home, but the children pleaded to be allowed to stay longer.

“Mrs Gardiner, if it is no inconvenience for you, do not worry about allowing them to stay. We will bring them home at whatever time you wish,” Mrs Norwood whispered, mother to mother. Mrs Gardiner nodded, convinced by the lady’s genuine friendliness, and gave her permission, which was met by six enthusiastic cheers and some matching barking, sealing the new friendships between both the children and the ladies.

∞∞∞

Darcy arrived at the cottage and dismounted, as thunder announced the upcoming storm. He asked Stevens about Bingley, and was informed that he had not arrived yet.

“Then I will take a walk,” he said briefly.