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She continued relentlessly, “Besides all that, just suppose I could overcome my fears and insecurities, and trust someone once again. Suppose I managed to do that, as unlikely as it seems. Do you think any respectable man will want to see this in his marriage bed night after night for the rest of his life? No sir! I shall never wed again. Once was one too many!”

Dessert

Elizabeth

I stared down at my legs in horror, wondering why I had done such an insane thing, with Mr Darcy of all people. Forget propriety—I was well into wanton territory—beyond Lydia’s worst behaviour, and I could not fathom what came over me. Perhaps I just needed to counter his stubbornness, as he seemed like a man that was going to be hard to get rid of once he had the bit in his teeth.

However, what was done was done, so I let him get a good look. I had no idea why I wanted him to understand, but since he was the only person who truly tried to reach me in the past year, maybe I was just desperate to have some impact on somebody, and he was convenient. I thought perhaps this might compel him to finally leave me in peace, not that I had enjoyed much peace in the past year anyway.

After a few moments, the horror of the whole thing sank in, followed by mortification. I could not look at him at all, so I just let the dress fall back down, repaired my stone face, and asked brightly, “Would you care for some pie, Mr Darcy? It is the last of the apples from my cellar.”

Without waiting for an answer, I jumped from the chair and practically ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

I was standing there shaking like a leaf when I felt a hand land lightly on my shoulder. He did nothing more, not even so much as placing his other hand on my other shoulder. For once, his propensity for silence served him well, as I could not stand the idea of any words at that time in this place. He seemed willing to just offer the most basic of human reactions, sympathy and concern; and for the first time, I appreciated his presence, which was paradoxical since he was just helping repair the problem created by his own questions. It was most confusing.

At long last, after what seemed a long time but was probably only a minute, I turned without speaking and handed him a pitcher of milk. It took an effort of iron will to move my eyes up to meet his. Relaxing my mask was well beyond my capacity, but just for the briefest moment, I consented to share a little bit of my pain with him, and he seemed to accept it with a brief nod.

I picked up two plates left earlier for the purpose, and he seemed to jump a bit when my knife appeared suddenly in my hand. I would have to remember that not everybody was Sergeant MacDonald, and most people would be shocked by my behaviour. I practised it so often over the past year that it was automatic, and I forgot that gentlewomen, or any women for that matter, usually do not carry knives on their person. As I thought back to all he heard in four days, I suspected the gentleman must think I had murderous tendencies. After cutting two generous slices and cleaning and replacing the knife, I nodded towards the stairs, and we returned to the parlour to continue the meal.

By mutual consent, we avoided any topic unrelated to pie or milk until the meal was complete.

I explained how I learnt to cook. “My parishioners include sufficient widows with time on their hands who enjoy treating me as a wayward granddaughter. All I need do is ask politely, and they are happy to share their wisdom.”

“I can well believe it. I have learnt more than a few useful things from such people.”

“I am certainly impressed by it.”

We tucked back into the pie.

“My former mother always claimed she set a fine table, but I doubt she could even light a fire if her life depended on it. What Mrs Bennet actually meant was she could bully the cook into doing what she would have done anyway. The only thing truly distinguishing the table at Longbourn was the mistress’ propensity to overspend her budget. I never understood that until I had to light my own fires and knead my own bread, but I must admit to a certain satisfaction in self-reliance.”

When the dessert was gone, without a word, we took the dishes back to the kitchen and cleaned them together. For the first time in ages, I felt the camaraderie of a simple task shared with someone other than Mrs Hewes or Sergeant MacDonald. Surprisingly, for perhaps an hour, I did not particularly dislike Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. I was surprised he seemed to know his way around a kitchen, and which end of a rag to use, but that just showed how little I knew the man in the end.

Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen tidy, we retired to the parlour, where I rummaged in the cabinet for my last bottle of port and poured two small glasses.

Finally, at long last, I could avoid it no longer. “Mr Darcy, I must apologise for my—”

I barely even began before he silenced me by holding up his hand with a glance of perhaps compassion and understanding. I suspected he understood the subject of marriage was not to be canvassed again, so we had an understanding on the topics that might be entertained.

He said the oddest thing. “Elizabeth, if any apologies are necessary, they are mine to give, but I am unconvinced either of us was particularly in the wrong, though my past offences are many. May we just allow it to pass?”

It seemed for the best, so I nodded my acquiescence.

“Will you hear me out now? I will stand by our agreement of this morning, but I would very much like to be heard.”

I had almost forgotten the purpose of the supper but simply nodded. He walked to the entry and returned a moment later with a folder full of papers left there with his hat and coat.

He took the first set of notes. “I believe your fath… ah… Mr Bennet is correct. There seems no legal way to break the entail in your circumstances. I sent letters to several solicitors in London to see if there is any procedure I am unaware of, but at the moment, it does not look promising.”

I felt just a little bit of curiosity about several things, not the least of which was why he was embroiling himself in my affairs, but I thought to defer that question. Perhaps it would answer itself one day.

I went back to the matter at hand. “I have heard of entails being broken. Why is this one different?”

His practical nature took over, and he seemed satisfied to have a topic requiring some intellect, or perhaps he was just happy I made an entire sentence without censure.

“Because Collins is the heir presumptive. Were he the heir apparent, there is a procedure called common recovery that uses a few complicated steps between the owner and the heir apparent, who must be of age and able to represent himself.”

He noticed my puzzlement. “The heir apparent is the heir who cannot be displaced. If your father had a son, he would fill that role. Only his death would remove him as the heir. An heir presumptive, such as Mr Collins, is the one presumed to be the heir, but should your father have a son, he would displace Collins. For example, should your mother die and he remarry a younger woman, he would be likely to succeed within a few years.”