Page 11 of Her Brother's Keeper
Mrs Hill did not need her eggs, she knew. But to be able to offer them something for their help felt good and right,especially because the Hills did so much extra and beyond what Mr Philips would approve.
After they left, she crept up the stairs to the room she shared with her brother, adding more coal to the fire for his sake, and putting an extra blanket on him, for the night was a chill one. In appearance, he was a great deal like a masculine version of Jane, golden-haired and handsome, a sturdy lad, tall for his age. Yet, he was plainly still a toddler, with high cheekbones, unmarked skin, and an unmistakeable air of innocence. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she brushed curls back from his dear face. He stirred, rolling over, before his soft snore sounded again.
With a sigh, she fell into the bed a few feet across from his smaller one, exhausted.
She slept poorly, and was grateful when dawn’s light meant she no longer had to try. Fox Hollow was a gloomy, draughty building; when her father had it built, he had meant it for a hunting box, a place of gathering for himself and his fellow hunters out for a day of shooting birds. It had never been meant to house permanent residents. Yet, the night sounds had never before disturbed her hard-earned slumber. Moving quietly, she stoked the fire and had the eggs frying on the hearth griddle by the time Neddy, tousle-headed and bright-eyed, joined her there.
“Toast,” she said, even knowing it was futile. “Toast.”
He snatched it from her hands, devouring it as if he had never seen a slice of bread before. She set the eggs before him, along with the fork that he would ignore. She cut a sliver, handing him the fork with the piece of egg stuck upon itstines. He ignored the implement, grabbing the egg with his fingers and wolfing it down quickly.
She knew she ought not to permit it.
She knew she should teach him to eat properly. Somehow. Never, in the half-year since she had taken Neddy to Fox Hollow, had she felt so alone. His needs were great, and yet she felt powerless to meet most of them. He simply seemed not to understand words or reasoning. He had never called her anything…not ‘Lizzy’ or ‘Sissy’, as she referred to herself for him. Sometimes, she doubted whether he knew his own name, though at times he responded to it.
The Philipses’ one interest was in keeping Neddy alive; they would provide food and firewood, shelter and medical treatment if needed. But would they help him to learn and grow in knowledge and social acumen? No. They had already decided, practically in his infancy, that he was defective, nothing better than an animal. What was more, theywantedto believe it. And Henry Philips wished to be his sole guardian so he could continue to pillage Neddy’s inheritance for the rest of his life. Only a sick old man and an unknown court stood between him and that objective.
When Neddy was finished with his meal, Elizabeth brought his shoes from the wardrobe. If there was one thing her brother adored the sight of, it was his shoes; to him, they represented a ticket to the magical world beyond Fox Hollow. Because he had a tendency to take flight once he was free of walls, she could not allow him outdoors without the strictest supervision, so he did not go as often as he wished nor stay out as long as he wanted.
His eyes alit when he saw his little boots, and he had slightly less impatience than usual with the dressing process.When at last she opened the heavy front door to freedom, he squealed happily.
“Hold Sissy’s hand,” she warned, grabbing his. It had been an arduous process, teaching him to keep hold of her hand and to allow her to direct them, but now he was good about it, understanding that she would bring him home quickly if he refused. He would walk for miles, if she would allow it, chattering the whole way in a language all his own.
Eagerly, he kept to the path leading towards the back gardens, but she was unsurprised when he tugged on her hand at the garden gate. It was a bit windy, with grey skies, but she judged no rain this morning, and they were both dressed warmly.
“Very well,” she said. “I suppose you deserve a long walk today, since you were such a good boy for Mrs Hill yesterday.”
“Tuck-a-tuck-a-tuck-a,” he babbled enthusiastically, pressing forward in obvious agreement. He probably had not understood, really, anything she said; he just wished to keep going, and he knew if they left the garden the walk would be longer. If only they could walk away and keep walking forever, far from the Philipses and their ceaseless ambitions! If only Uncle Gardiner still was a part of their world! If only Papa had survived!
The two saddest words in the entire English language:if only.
Disaster happened in an instant. One moment, Neddy was clinging to her hand and practically dragging her along the path, and the next, he was tearing off headlong into the brush.
“Neddy!” she cried. “Neddy!”
She ran after him without hesitation, but he was smallerand the path was one he made himself, through low branches and brambles that caught at her skirts and bonnet, slowing her—and in seconds he was lost from sight.
Eleven
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS
The last time Darcy had been riding, very near this same location, he had asked himself the same question: “What am I doing here?”
Well, he was notquitein the same place—he had paid attention to property lines this time, and was still firmly upon Netherfield land. But he was as close to Longbourn property as he could be, without actually trespassing upon it.
Face it, Darcy, you are stalking the girl like some nefarious cretin, obsessed with a young lady whom you ought never to consider again.No sooner had he thought it, and because he was losing his mind, he proceeded to argue with himself.I only desire to know whether she reached home safely.Her sister was searching for her at the close of the assembly, and could not find her. He had even nudged Bingley to search along the road to Longbourn, ostensibly on Miss Bennet’s behalf, to see if Miss Elizabeth could be found—since it was clear that Mr Philips could not have cared less what happened to her. Wickham and his cronies—who ought never to havebeen allowed at a subscription event, since he doubted any of them had contributed a single groat to the costs—had disappeared when Goulding fell ill and it became clear that the entertainment for the evening was finished. However, in the subsequent commotion, he had failed to note the exact time of their departures. One moment Miss Elizabeth had been in the crowd of horrified onlookers, awaiting the apothecary’s pronouncements; the next, he had lost sight of her.
Of course, he had afterwards to cool his heels while Bingley made yet another prolonged farewell to Miss Bennet, all the while wondering whether Elizabeth,MissElizabeth, was safe.
What, however, had he hoped to accomplish by skirting the edges of Netherfield lands today? It was not as if he could see through the dense trees and look in on her. Even less could he imagine appearing on her doorstep, demanding to know where she had gone and with whom. Sighing into the stiffening breeze, he was about to turn Gallant back towards Netherfield when the strangest sight appeared in the distance.
It was a young boy running swiftly in his direction, the wind whipping at his curls, his little arms and legs pumping. Darcy leapt off his horse, for it appeared the lad was charging directly for the brambles ringing the nearby woods. But at the last minute, he veered directly towards Darcy and lunged at Gallant.
Edward Bennet, careening at full speed, heedless of his own safety.
Darcy reached out, snatching him up at the last second while the boy struggled to reach the horse—not seeming to notice Darcy at all, except as an impediment obstructing what he wanted. “Where is Elizabeth?” he asked the blond child in his arms.
“Dock-uh-dock-uh-dude,” the boy said, arms still outstretched towards Gallant. He was not answering the question, Darcy judged, even with a toddler’s infantile pronunciation. In fact, he doubted the child had acknowledged that therewasa question. It was clear what he wanted, that he was fascinated with Gallant. However, Gallant wasnotthe steed one would use to introduce a young child to horses. Already, the stallion was flicking his tail nervously, his hooves restless. The child reached out, trying to get to the animal.
