Page 42 of The Heir and Spare
He lifted her hand to his mouth, heart in his throat to see her so affected by the plight of others. “We must. We will help them be safe and comfortable. And then we must work to repair the roads.”
“Oh dear. How shall all of them make their way? Do we have carts enough?”
“I don’t know if carts are the best solution. But I suppose we can shuttle back and forth with the carts.”
“The carriage would be stuck in all this mud, and the narrowness of the roads now that they have been flooded.”
He studied them a moment. She was correct. And it was an excellent observation. “Thank you for that.”
He helped her down and turned to ask her to assess the needs of the families with him, but she had already headed away toward the first group on the lawn.
Nodding, he went the opposite direction in search of the vicar, knowing instinctually that she had things well in hand.
The vicar agreed with him and the need to move many of them to Pemberley. “I will keep as many as I can here at the vicarage. It will be closer for them to their homes. But the others need a place to stay. We could also use the schoolroom in town and the main hall.”
“Yes, but I think they will do well in our great hall. We shall petition others to help our cook, and it shall be well.” He gripped the good vicar’s shoulder. “Thank you. You are an excellent shepherd for our flock here. And I know they are always in good hands.”
“I am but a servant of the one good shepherd, and we are all doing our best.” A maid approached, and he answered a question about linens then turned back to Arthur. “Shall we begin with the carts?”
“We should. We have the one. And it has supplies for you.”
“Bless you. Your father is proud every day smiling down on you from heaven. I know he is.”
“Thank you. I often wonder what he would do.” He stepped nearer and lowered his voice. “You know Fitz has returned and is working to free more who are trapped. I see a change in him. I think he’s ready.”
“I can only hope. He will be a huge blessing when he’s ready. I saw it in him as a lad. Such a good heart and a brilliant leader. He has an edge you don’t have. Your softness serves you well, but his sharpness will also have a purpose.”
Arthur didn’t overanalyze the dear man’s assessment. He’d known him since he and Fitz were young lads, and he’d been telling them what to do for just as many years. He was good to the core, and Arthur trusted him.
They unloaded the wagon and sent the first family back to the house before he saw Miss Elizabeth again. And when he did, his heart warmed all over again. She had planted herself on the earth with a group of children all around her playing some game with rocks and sticks. He could only guess its purpose, but the children were enthralled. What was more intriguing to Darcy was the organization. The earlier chaos of arriving families was replaced by organized groups, everyone managing their belongings, looking ready to travel.
He shook his head in wonder. She was magnificent.
But Fitz had chosen her. His brother didn’t love her. He didn’t even know her. But he was a smart Darcy and had chosen her. He’d promised his brother a chance to win her over. He said they would talk this evening even if it was ridiculously late at night; he and Fitz would talk about what had transpired between him and Miss Elizabeth.
She obviously preferred Arthur. Didn’t she? But she had agreed to come to dinner. She had been sitting at his side. They had a familiarity, a comfort that he wasn’t certain he had ever attained with her.
What they had now was anything but comfortable. More like a rolling anthem about ready to crescendo in a great burst of noise over and over again. It was glorious. And anticipatory and beautiful.
But wasn’t she just what his glorious childhood estate needed? Wasn’t she the perfect woman to be Pemberley’s mistress? Would she not mold Fitz into the man he could become?
His old friend, Duty, commenced a battle in his mind over what he needed and what the estate—what Fitz—needed. He was certain with Miss Elizabeth as Fitz’s wife, Pemberley would thrive, blossom and grow. It would be protected for a multitude of generations to come.
But he, too, had an estate, a legacy to build, and a heart. He had a heart. And it just might break in two were he to give up Miss Elizabeth to the estate. He didn’t know if he could ever do such a thing.
She would have to choose. It would certainly rest in her heart to decide. It wasn’t as if he was going to tell her who to love, was he? But he could express her options in a way that she saw the full and accurate picture. The wealth and opportunity from Pemberley far outweighed his own. They would be comfortable and it would grow, but it wasn’t much compared to Pemberley.
What would his father say?
He had no idea. Would his father wish the heir to have the first pick of women?
Miss Elizabeth came to him then, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, and as he reached for her hand in welcome, he knew right then he didn’t care. He didn’t care one whit what his father would have done or if she’d be better for Pemberley. He would do everything he could to win her no matter what it took.
“And how are things?” Her voice was bright and happy.
“We have begun the process of carting everyone back.”
“So we are not as needed here?”
