Page 25 of You Willfully Misunderstand Me

"No my dear, for making people feel as though their troubles matter."

“It is a privilege to show kindness, and I am happy to assist you, Mrs. Kewley.”

Next, they visited a family whose small fishing boat had been damaged beyond repair, threatening not merely their livelihood but their ability to provide for the coming weeks. Mrs. Kewley spoke to them with such certainty and compassion that Elizabeth had no doubt the family left the conversation feeling far less alone than when it began.

At every cottage, Mrs. Kewley entered not as a visitor offering assistance from a distance, but as a friend whose presence was expected and whose kindness had long been woven into the fabric of their lives. And Elizabeth tried to listen and offer comforting words, where she was able.

***

When the ladies returned to the cottage that afternoon, they found Mr. Darcy standing near the hearth, his coat changed but his boots still bearing unmistakable traces of the morning's labor. The careful gentleman who had left the cottage at dawn appeared much less polished now, carrying with him the evidence of a day spent among Castletown’s damaged docks, wet timber, and hard work rather than drawing rooms and correspondence.

Elizabeth noticed his hands before she noticed anything else.

There were small scratches across his fingers and palms, the kind that came not from accident but from willingly placing oneself where work was required. She crossed the room before she had fully considered the impulse, reaching for his hands and turning them gently toward the light.

Darcy, who had been prepared for a polite inquiry regarding the state of the harbor, was entirely unprepared for the sudden concern of her touch.

She examined the marks with an expression of growing disapproval, as though the injuries themselves had personally offended her. "Mr. Darcy," she said at last.

The tone alone was enough to make him almost smile, “Mrs. Darcy?”

"You have injured yourself. Just look at your hands. What have you done to earn those marks, sir?”

He glanced down at his hands as though he had only just become aware of the fact, "I assure you, it is nothing." His tone was perfectly serious, almost stern in its simplicity, but Elizabeth had begun to understand that this was often the manner in which Mr. Darcy expressed himself. What might appear to others as indifference or displeasure was, in truth, merely his natural reserve. He did not dramatize discomfort, nor did he consider his own inconveniences worthy of discussion.

That, however, did not make the injuries disappear, and Elizabeth's eyes lifted immediately to his. There was a look there that he had seen before, a combination of disbelief and impatience.

"It is not nothing, I assure you. I have had worse injuries from far less worthy pursuits," he said more gently.

Darcy was struck by the absurdity of the moment. Only months before, this woman had refused his proposal with such certainty that he had believed every hope lost. Now she stood before him, holding his hands as though his minor injuries were a matter deserving serious consideration.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes slightly, “Be that it may, I can hardly fathom what it is you have done to earn all these cuts, sir.”

The answer was so entirely Elizabeth Bennet that he could not help the faint amusement that touched his expression, "Then I shall endeavor to avoid disappointing you again."

She seemed prepared to offer another objection, but caught herself, as her awareness arrived all at once. She released him immediately and stepped back, a faint color rising in her cheeks. "I merely meant that you ought to be more careful,” she reinforced.

"Of course," Darcy replied in kind. But his voice carried a warmth that made her wonder whether he had been more amused by her concern than persuaded by her advice.

From the doorway, Mrs. Kewley observed the exchange with a knowing smile, "Well," she said, entering the room with perfect timing, "it appears Thomas was right to say you would not sit idle. As I always say, a man who insists upon helping others must have someone to take care of him.” Her gaze moved from Darcy's hands to Elizabeth's face, and a small, knowing smile appeared, "That is the way of things. See to it, Mrs. Darcy.”

The command was delivered so naturally that Elizabeth almost obeyed before remembering the impossibility of the request. Although Darcy, observing the exchange, had thedistinct impression that Mrs. Kewley had decided the matter entirely to her satisfaction. And, judging by Elizabeth's expression, she was not certain whether to be amused or embarrassed.

"Mrs. Kewley," Elizabeth began carefully, "I believe Mr. Darcy is quite capable of tending to himself."

"I am sure he is," the older woman replied. Then, she looked toward Darcy. "That is precisely why gentlemen like him are the least likely to do it."

Elizabeth, despite herself, smiled. And in that moment, beneath the false names and the unusual circumstances that had brought them together, something about the scene felt remarkably ordinary. She had, without realizing it, acted as a wife concerned for her husband's injuries. And, Mr. Darcy, acting as her husband, had quietly accepted the reprimand.

CHAPTER 14

The injury was, as Darcy had insisted, insignificant. Elizabeth agreed that it wasn’t a terrible injury, but she wished he would have taken better care of himself.

After Mrs. Kewley had disappeared into the kitchen to prepare tea, Elizabeth returned with a small basin of warm water, a clean cloth, and her well-known determination; she had already decided that the matter was settled and that she would tend to me. Darcy’s needs.

Darcy watched her approach with the basin. She was looking somewhat uncertain, and he did not want her to be forced into something she did not want to do, simply because of a flippant comment from his steward’s wife.

"Miss Bennet," he started, keeping his voice quiet.