Page 31 of Her Brother's Keeper
Elizabeth shook her head, feeling emotions that were much too near the surface try to escape again; she could not allow it. “I appreciate your generosity, Mr Darcy, but Neddy truly cannot yet reason out consequences. He—” She stopped mid-sentence at a very strange sight: from the open doorway, she saw a young woman in men’s breeches and riding boots riding up to Fox Hollow’s front porch.
The woman, seeing them, looked startled and covered her mouth. “Oh dear, I did not realise I was this close!” she called. “I should have known when I saw Mabel tethered, but I was searching for a better place to tether Lady. I am sorry, Fitzwilliam!” Making a wide circle, the girl turned her horse back in the direction from whence she had come.
“Who could that have been?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.
“My sister,” Mr Darcy replied; he did not look or sound pleased about it.
“Dig-gah tuck-a!” Neddy shouted happily.
Twenty-Five
LEARNING A THING OR TWO
“Miss Bennet, please meet my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy,” Mr Darcy introduced the extraordinarily attired young lady, after she reappeared—on foot this time.
Elizabeth realised the girl was much younger than she had initially seemed—her figure, shown to oddly good advantage in the strange apparel, was more mature than her manner.
“Please, come inside,” she encouraged, when Miss Darcy proved too tongue-tied to respond to the introduction. “Come sit by the fire, it is chilly without.” At least, with the accompaniment of his sister, she need not feel awkward about inviting the brother to enter as well.
“My sister recently joined me at Netherfield, and I mentioned to her my intention of taking Edward riding today, if it was acceptable to you,” Mr Darcy said with a formality that was stiff, even for him.
They all sat down together in the single room she possessed for entertaining visitors—it was too crude, really, to name it a parlour. It was merely a wide-open, limestone-floored area around the big stone fireplace, near to which she had placed an old settee and a couple of chairs from Longbourn’s attics, as well as the rocking chair from Neddy’s nursery, all delivered courtesy of Mr and Mrs Hill. The whole house consisted of three rooms—the one she and Neddy slept in, the chamber now in use by Mrs Finch which once was a kitchen of sorts, and this open hearthed space between the two. Her home’s flaws seemed doubly apparent before her visitors and she nearly explained that it had never been meant to be anything more than a temporary gathering space for parties of hunters.
Neither brother nor sister seemed to know what else to say. Neddy was not thus afflicted. Miss Darcy had carried in a much-used leather satchel, which interested him deeply. Chattering in his nonsense words, he tried to tug it away from her.
“No, Neddy—that belongs to Miss Darcy.”
“Oh, but I brought it for him to see,” the girl spoke at last. Opening it, from within she brought out a few nicely made pencils and a book bound in soft leather with ties. Neddy watched, enraptured, as she untied the book to reveal fine rag-pulp paper and began to sketch. Quickly, she drew a horse so realistic that Elizabeth was astonished.
“’Horse!” Neddy cried, obviously equally amazed.
“Yes, clever boy,” Miss Darcy said. She flipped the page and pencilled a sketch of Neddy that was his mirror image.
Elizabeth moved closer on the settee so she could watch the girl work. “It is so life-like,” she gasped. “It looks exactly like him. Neddy, this is you.”
Miss Darcy pointed to the drawing. “Neddy,” she said. She flipped back to the sketch of the horse. “Horse,” she repeated. Turning to a clean sheet, she sketched a picture of a little boy atop a horse, sitting in front a man in a tall hat. It was notnearly so detailed, but still obvious what it was. “Neddy rides a horse with Mr Darcy,” she said.
“Neddy rides a horse,” he echoed—not nearly as distinctly as she had said it, but with enough clarity that it was obvious what his words meant. Neddy spoke like this often—repeating Elizabeth’s words, although plainly not comprehending them. However, hemightunderstand this time.
“I thought I could draw some pictures for you, and for Neddy,” Miss Darcy said hurriedly, not looking up, “in case it might help teach him the words for objects which you wish him to learn. Or, if he cannot say the words, he could point to the pictures to make himself understood. Perhaps.” Her skin was flushed, Elizabeth saw, as if she felt embarrassed by her offer. “Although much of the time my notions are not so good as they seem when they are inside my head, so you must say so if you think it silly.”
“Neddy ride a horse! Neddy ride a horse!” Neddy babbled almost incomprehensibly—and yet, the syllables were all there. Elizabeth, if no one else, understood him.
The tears which she had been battling all morning finally escaped, as she choked out an embarrassingly loud sob.
Both Mr and Miss Darcy turned to look at her wide-eyed.
“I am sorry!” Miss Darcy cried, obviously distressed. “Please, forget I said anything!”
“You must forgive my sister,” Mr Darcy added. “She did not mean to imply?—”
“No, no,” Elizabeth said, frantically groping in her pocket for a handkerchief. “You do not understand. No one else has ever truly tried to help meteachNeddy. I am so moved. And mortified by my ridiculous blubbering. Thank you, Miss Darcy.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you so much. You are the kindest, most talented girl in the world.”
Darcy watched as his sister absorbed Elizabeth’s affection and attention, seeming to blossom before his eyes. Edward, too, seemed enamoured of each picture, wanting every animal he had ever learnt reproduced on paper. Before long, Elizabeth, too, was requesting drawings of various items, the names of which she wished Edward to learn, and all of which his sister capably drew.
“I do not understand,” he said, after several minutes of watching. “How will a picture be any better than the object itself?”
“Well, for one thing, it is much more practical to have images of items too large to keep strewn about my home,” Elizabeth said, smiling, more cheerful than he had ever seen her. “But also, I can make a game of it. Neddy loves games and puzzles. Capturing his attention is part of the trouble. Oh, Miss Darcy, could you draw sets of items? For instance, I have been working on teaching him his numbers—he is very good up to twelve, but after that he gets them jumbled.”
