Page 20 of You Willfully Misunderstand Me

Elizabeth blinked, "My... what?"

"His boots," Mrs. Kewley repeated before smiling again, "Thomas has left his there every evening these forty years despite my asking him not to."

Elizabeth looked helplessly toward the sitting room, as Darcy, quite unaware of the danger approaching from the kitchen, was examining a shelf of books with Mr. Kewley.

"I..." Elizabeth began.

"Does he?" Mrs. Kewley prompted.

Elizabeth could scarcely confess she had never once observed where Mr. Darcy removed his boots. Fortunately, at that precise moment, Darcy entered carrying another log for the fire.

Mrs. Kewley seized her opportunity, "Mr. Darcy, perhaps you can settle a disagreement."

Darcy paused, "If I am able, ma’am." He sounded unsure of what type of disagreement he might be called upon to resolve.

"I've been asking your wife whether you leave your boots lying in the hall," she stated poignantly. “Your wife was far too kind to answer.”

My boots? Goodness, with my valet, I’m no animal.Of course, he could not say that out loud, and he pondered what to say to Mrs. Kewley that would not sound discourteous.

For one dreadful instant, Darcy did not speak, and Elizabeth felt a growing sense of mortification. However, with remarkable gravity, Darcy finally answered, “I have learned to never leave my boots in the hall.”

Elizabeth stared at him, and he continued without the slightest hesitation. “Afterall, I have only ever heard it said that to have a happy life, one must have a happy wife. Leaving boots in a hallway would be unpardonable for Mrs. Darcy.”

This made Elizabeth let out the briefest chuckles, unable to hold in the silliness of the tale Mr. Darcy had spun. However, Mrs. Kewley beamed, "There now! A sensible husband. I shall tell my Thomas about the saying, for it is true, mind you keep to it, Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth lowered her head lest anyone observe the smile that threatened to betray her composure. She had already concluded that the Kewleys seldom entertained the owners of the cottage, and almost certainly never those accustomed to the habits of the great houses. Their unaffected familiarity sprang from complete innocence of the distinctions that governedfashionable society. It would never have occurred to Mrs. Kewley that asking a gentleman whether he left his boots in the hall was an exceedingly personal question, much less one addressed to the master of the estate.

In truth, the matter would scarcely have admitted an answer in households, where servants ensured that boots, coats, hats, and every other article disappeared almost as soon as they were removed. Mrs. Kewley imagined marriage as she had always known it, a husband leaving muddy boots by the door, and a wife gently reminding him to carry them away. That such a domestic picture bore little resemblance to Mr. Darcy's manner of living never entered her thoughts. Elizabeth found there was something so sincere, and so wholly free from artifice, in the older woman's assumptions that she could not take the slightest offence. Indeed, she was obliged to lower her eyes altogether, lest the amusement she struggled to suppress expose the absurdity of their situation.

***

By afternoon the storm had grown still more violent. Conversation became increasingly difficult as the wind shrieked down the chimney and rain battered the windows without mercy.

Mrs. Kewley at last abandoned her sewing, "We shall never hear one another at this rate."

"No," Mr. Kewley agreed. "The sea’ll be the only one to have thee conversation today."

Elizabeth settled beside the fire with a volume of sermons she had found upon the shelf, though she suspected she had read the same page three times without understandinga word. Across from her, Darcy occupied another chair with a history of the island resting open upon his knee. Neither book received much attention.

From time to time their eyes lifted simultaneously toward the windows whenever another violent gust shook the cottage. More than once, they caught one another looking, and each time, both immediately returned to their books.

Mrs. Kewley observed the exchange with a contented smile touching her lips, "Newly married people," she whispered to her husband.

Mr. Kewley glanced across the room, "Aye, they're still shy."

"So they are," Mrs. Kewley held a smile.

Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy heard the observation. Had they done so, each would have denied it with equal fervor. Although, there was an undeniable truth hidden within the old couple's mistake. They were shy, though not because they were husband and wife, because they were not. Quite the contrary, their reserve was born from the reality that they had invented a history of married life that could have been there’s, but was, in fact, not. And, they were both acutely self-conscious of their strained history.

CHAPTER 12

The storm remained batting against the island.

One day succeeded another with varying violence of the wind. At times the rain fell in great sweeping curtains that concealed even the nearest cottages from view; at others it lessened to a persistent drizzle, only to return with renewed determination before anyone had begun to hope the worst was over.

Each morning Mr. Kewley attempted to venture down to the harbor, and each morning he returned with the same report, “It was too strong, and I couldn’t make it to the harbor.”

By the third such announcement, Elizabeth did not need to ask the question anymore, as the answer had become as much a part of the household routine as breakfast itself.