To Conquer Pride

by Jennifer Altman

  ***

  Elizabeth had been examined and declared perfectly well and the doctor was attending to Mr. Darcy when the second knock sounded at the door, followed by Thomas’s familiar voice.

  Elizabeth hurried to allow the footman entry, surprised to find that he was not alone.

  The servant offered her a formal bow, introducing the young woman by his side as Miss Wilkins, a maid from the Bell. “Miss Bennet, Miss Wilkins will attend you on our journey back to the inn. I have already secured your belongings and had them removed to the coaching station. The roads are passable and there is a carriage waiting at the end of the lane, so we may leave whenever you are ready.”

  “I… I thank you, sir,” Elizabeth stammered. Goodness, Mr. Darcy’s staff certainly was efficient.

  The maid offered her a brief curtsy and the three made their way into the parlor where the footman continued, “I saw a horse outside, miss. I assume the doctor has arrived?”

  “Yes. I should like to wait for news of Mr. Darcy’s condition before we depart, if that is acceptable?” It was still early, and with the weather, Elizabeth was certain her uncle’s carriage could not possibly reach the inn for several more hours. She noted with some surprise that the thought of being rescued, instead of filling her with relief, left her with an odd despondency. She should be happy about finally being extricated from such a difficult situation. By nightfall she would be safe and snug in her aunt and uncle’s townhouse—and away from Mr. Darcy…

  The physician’s appearance in the small sitting room jolted Elizabeth from her contemplations and she rapidly stood.

  “How is he?”

  “I am afraid Mr. Darcy’s injuries are quite severe, although under the circumstances he is doing far better than I might have expected. His left leg appears to be broken and I believe he has sustained several cracked ribs. I have given him something for the pain. Once that takes hold, I will set the leg and then I would like him to remain here for a few more days.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Do his lungs appear to be affected? He was having difficulty breathing last night.”

  The doctor regarded her curiously. “Not so far as I can see. The fever and the shortness of breath are not unusual given his injuries, but time will tell. Actually, Miss Bennet, I believe I owe you my thanks. Mr. Darcy told me it was at your suggestion that he removed the boot and kept his leg elevated, and that you used cold compresses to reduce the swelling. Without these measures, I fear things could have been substantially worse.”

  Elizabeth flushed. “I am glad to have been of assistance. Do you think… That is, will he make a complete recovery?”

  “I should hope so. The cracked ribs will heal themselves, and the break in his leg appears to be clean. If he can be persuaded to stay off it for several months I would not expect any lingering difficulties.”

  Elizabeth released a breath. Somehow, she could not have borne it if Mr. Darcy had been permanently incapacitated. “I am glad to hear it,” she answered. Her gaze wandered to the closed door to the adjoining chamber. “Is there any other way I might be of service?”

  But before she had even finished speaking, the physician was shaking his head. “No, no. I expect Mr. Darcy will sleep for some time.”

  Elizabeth nodded, surprised at the weight that had settled upon her shoulders. Moving to gather her belongings, she turned to Mr. Darcy’s footman. There was no sense in delaying. It was time to go.

  ***

  Darcy pulled the covers closer to his body, fighting against the silky darkness attempting to drag him under. He needed to stay awake. He needed to be coherent when Elizabeth came back into the room.

  He tried to roll onto his side, but the burning in his chest made moving next to impossible. He turned his head, breathing deeply when his face pressed against the pillow. He could still detect her scent, although it was fainter than before. A contented sigh slid from his throat. She was well. Cartwright had assured him her injuries were minor. That was all that mattered. But even as he thought it, his heart filled with sorrow. She was well, but she was leaving. Never again would they share the intimacy of the last four and twenty hours. She would return to her life, and he to his. Oh, perhaps their paths would cross again through Bingley and Jane, but it would not be the same. She would marry someone else, bear that gentleman’s children, grow old—without him.

  In the distance, a door slammed, rattling the windowpanes. Several moments later Darcy heard the unmistakable clatter of hoof-beats moving down the drive.

  She was gone. And she hadn’t even said goodbye.

  Chapter 6

  Stars.

  Too many to count.

  A thousand points of light,

  shimmering in an inky sky.

  A man,

  staring up into the heavens.

  The air filled with a deathly rattle,

  as her name drifted towards her,

  a whisper on the wind.

  “Elizabeth…”

  Her feet were moving now

  …almost there.

  The man’s head turned

  and his eyes

  found hers.

  “Don’t.

  Watch.”

  A shot,

  piercing through the silence.

  A red stain,

  turning the white snow

  dark.

  She opened her mouth,

  and screamed…

  ELIZABETH’S VOICE ECHOED off the walls of the bedchamber. A moment later the door flew open, her aunt’s hurried footsteps pounding across the hardwood floor. “Elizabeth! What is it? Are you unwell?”

  Soft fingers caressed Elizabeth’s sweat-soaked skin as she pressed against the carved oak headboard. The mattress dipped as her aunt perched beside her, lighting the taper on the bedside table. Elizabeth blinked.

  “Lizzy?”

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth fought her way back to the present as bits and pieces of the dream continued to swirl inside her head. Slowly she turned in the direction of the voice. Her aunt’s kind eyes gazed back at her, warm and worried.

  “I… Forgive me,” Elizabeth stammered. “‘Twas only a dream.”

  Her aunt murmured words of comfort as Elizabeth struggled to hold onto the shadowy images, but they were already trickling away. All but one. The man in the snow—Mr. Darcy.

  “Sounds more like a nightmare,” said her aunt. “Would you like to talk about it? It might make you feel better.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. That is, I… I do not remember.”

  Her aunt nodded. “Well, that is for the best, I suppose. Shall I fetch you something to help you return to sleep? Some warm milk, perhaps?”

  “No, do not trouble yourself. I am sorry for waking you.”

  Bending to kiss Elizabeth gently on the cheek, her aunt rose. “It was no bother. Pray, sleep well, Lizzy.”

  But Elizabeth did not sleep. She could not shake the sense of foreboding that lingered in the dream’s wake. Mr. Darcy. Dead. Was the dream some type of premonition? No, surely it was only her own fear-filled memories.

  Elizabeth chewed her lip. Ten weeks. It had been ten weeks since her return from Kent, and in that time, she had not told anyone what occurred on that stormy November day. Not about the accident, nor about the subsequent time spent alone with Mr. Darcy. She had considered confiding in her aunt and uncle, but even though she believed her relations to be fair-minded, the consequences of the wrong people finding out eventually decided her against it. But now…

  Throwing off the bedclothes, Elizabeth paced to the window, staring out into the moonlit street. There must be some way to know if Mr. Darcy was well. Indeed, she would not rest easy until she was certain of the gentleman’s continued recovery.

  Her thoughts ran in circles until finally her spine straightened. Of course! Mr. Bingley would know. Yes, her brother would be able to ease her uncertainty. Tomorrow she would write to Jane and inquire after Mr. Darcy. Certainly, there could be nothing amiss in asking af
ter the gentleman’s health?

  Returning to her bed, Elizabeth slipped beneath the covers. Yes, as long as she had Jane’s assurance that Mr. Darcy was well, she would be content.

  Curling onto her side, Elizabeth released a satisfied sigh, once again surrendering herself to slumber.

  ***

  Somewhere overhead a bell jingled as Elizabeth entered the brightly lit shop, grateful to escape the brisk January breeze. Following her aunt across the polished floors, Elizabeth’s eyes swept the spacious room, taking in the bolts of fine silks and linens that lined the walls. Although her aunt often escorted her on shopping expeditions when she visited Town, never had Elizabeth been in any establishment quite as fashionable as this one.

  Making her way to one corner of the shop, she examined a pair of evening gloves, longingly fingering the soft leather. What her youngest sisters would not give to own anything half so fine! With a sigh, Elizabeth carefully returned the mousquetaires to their shelf. It had been silly to come inside. The bonnet she had admired in the window likely cost more than her remaining pin money, and next month’s besides.

  Elizabeth turned away from the display, absently staring out into the busy street. In the weeks since her return to Town, she had not been able to shake the feeling of melancholy that had followed her from Kent. While Jane had replied promptly to Elizabeth’s letter seeking intelligence about Mr. Darcy—assuring her that the gentleman in question was indeed alive and well—her sister could give her no further details beyond what Elizabeth already knew: Mr. Darcy had suffered several broken bones in a carriage accident but was expected to recover. However, despite these assurances, Elizabeth continued to feel inexplicably anxious—and the dreams persisted. And if it ever occurred to her to question her preoccupation with that particular gentleman’s well-being, she simply told herself she would feel the same for anyone with whom she had shared such a harrowing experience.

  A tug at her elbow pulled Elizabeth from her thoughts.

  “Lizzy! Did you see the ballgown over there? Would that not look well on you?”

  Elizabeth turned in the direction her aunt indicated. The gown on display was exquisite—a deep sage green with delicate floral embroidery around the sleeves and neckline and Elizabeth could not help but smile at her aunt’s enthusiasm.

  “Indeed, it is lovely. But I fear I would be quite out of place wearing anything so fine to the Meryton Assembly, even if I had the funds to acquire it.”

  Her aunt sighed. “I suppose you are correct. Well, you must at least try on the bonnet you were admiring.”

  In the distance a bell tinkled, announcing the arrival of more customers and Elizabeth watched as a well-bred young lady entered the shop, followed by a genteel-looking woman of slightly more mature years. The girl and her companion made their way to the counter, just as the proprietor entered through a velvet drape.

  Upon seeing her newest customers, the modiste hurried over, her lips drawn into a broad smile.

  “Miss Darcy! How good it is to see you again. I hope nothing was amiss with the gowns we delivered?”

  At the shopkeeper’s words, Elizabeth started, her eyes immediately returning to the younger of the two women. Though her bonnet obscured most of her face, Elizabeth noted that the girl was tall and willowy. Her pelisse was well-cut from a rich burgundy wool and she carried herself with a graceful air. Elizabeth’s heart pounded as she edged closer, discreetly trying to get a better look. Could this be Mr. Darcy’s sister?

  “No, not at all,” the girl was saying. “They are perfect. But I had hoped to select a pair of slippers to go with the blue evening gown. I believe I saw some when I was in here last that would do well.”

  The modiste beamed. “Yes, of course. I know exactly the ones you mean. I believe we have something that should fit.” The woman retreated behind the curtain, and the girl seemed to feel Elizabeth’s gaze, turning towards her and offering a shy smile.

  Elizabeth’s breath caught. It was Mr. Darcy’s sister! Although she was several years older, Elizabeth recognized her from the portrait she had seen in the gallery at Pemberley.

  Marshaling her expression, Elizabeth crossed the room. Dropping a polite curtsy, she returned the young girl’s smile.

  “I hope you will forgive me for being so forward, miss, but I happened to overhear the modiste address you by name. Would you by chance be related to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire?”

  Surprise showed on the girl’s face and Elizabeth did not miss the hint of wariness that appeared in her light eyes. “Yes,” she answered cautiously. “Fitzwilliam is my brother.”

  “Pray, excuse my presumption in introducing myself. I am Elizabeth Bennet. I had the pleasure of making your brother’s acquaintance when he was visiting his friend Mr. Bingley near my family’s home in Hertfordshire. As a matter of fact, Mr. Bingley is recently married to my eldest sister.”

  All apprehension instantly lifted from the girl’s features and her countenance brightened. “Oh! Miss Bennet! Fitzwilliam has spoken about your family often. It is a great pleasure to meet you at last.”

  Elizabeth felt a warm flush building in her cheeks as she wondered what choice comments Mr. Darcy might have made about her mother and younger sisters. But if he had said anything unkind, it certainly was not evident from his sister’s warm reception.

  Elizabeth turned to her aunt who had come to stand beside her. “Miss Darcy, may I present my aunt, Mrs. Edward Gardiner?”

  The girl dipped a demure curtsy and introduced the woman with her as Mrs. Annesley. The party of four exchanged pleasantries for several moments before Miss Darcy’s companion excused herself to examine a display of shawls in another part of the shop.

  Gathering her courage, Elizabeth turned back to her new friend. “Miss Darcy, may I inquire after your brother? I had heard he was in an accident some time ago…”

  Elizabeth’s words caused a shadow to cross the young girl’s expression as she nodded slowly. “Yes, Miss Bennet, he was. But he is doing much better now. Oh! But you must come and see for yourself. He is just outside in the carriage.”

  An electric charge seemed to run down Elizabeth’s spine as her gaze darted to the door. Mr. Darcy was here! Struggling to hide her agitation, Elizabeth turned back to face his sister. “That is kind of you, Miss Darcy,” she murmured, “but I would not wish to intrude.”

  “It would be no imposition, Miss Bennet. He would be pleased to see you, I am sure of it. He—” But before she could finish her sentence the modiste returned, a stylish pair of evening shoes dangling from her fingers.

  “Oh, yes! Those will do perfectly.”

  “An excellent choice. Shall I wrap them for you now? Or would you prefer to have them sent?”

  Georgiana Darcy turned to her new acquaintances. “Do you mind waiting? I shall just have these wrapped, and then we may go and see Fitzwilliam. Won’t he be surprised?”

  ***

  Alone in the carriage, Darcy altered his position, attempting to better accommodate the leg he had stretched across the squabs. Outside, the London streets bustled with fashionable members of the ton, but he barely took notice. As they had been for many weeks, his thoughts were miles away, in a small cottage in the Kent countryside—with Elizabeth Bennet.

  Images from their shared night together flooded his mind—Elizabeth cooking in the rustic kitchen, the way her skin glowed as she slept by the fire, the earnest expression in her eyes when she told him the accident had not been his fault. And then there were the things he could only half remember—Elizabeth lying next to him on the narrow bed, her delicate fingers caressing his cheek…

  No, surely he had dreamed that portion.

  Darcy smothered a sigh. Why did he continue to torture himself? Whatever had occurred, it had meant nothing to her. She had not even spoken to him before she departed.

  Before he could ruminate any further on the matter, the carriage door swung open and Darcy straightened as his sister’s rosy cheeks appeared
inside the compartment.

  “William, I have the most wonderful surprise! You will never guess!”

  Too late, Darcy noticed a pair of women in his sister’s shadow and he groaned under his breath. This is why he did not wish to accompany Georgiana on her shopping expeditions. Why he had scarcely left the house in above two months. Blast! He craned his neck, but the footman was blocking his view. Let it not be Caroline Bingley, he thought miserably.

  He sought to compose himself as Georgiana stepped back and his heart stuttered inside his chest.

  “Miss Bennet!”

  From her place on the pavement, Elizabeth colored. “Mr. Darcy. I hope you will excuse the intrusion. My aunt and I happened upon Miss Darcy in the dress shop and she was most insistent that we come and pay our respects.”

  Darcy stared at Elizabeth, momentarily at a loss for words. How had such an extraordinary occurrence come to be? Why, Elizabeth and his sister had never even been introduced! Yet here they stood side by side, his sister smiling openly, and Elizabeth, looking vaguely embarrassed but every bit as beautiful as he remembered.

  A gust of wind tossed the curtains on the carriage windows and Darcy pulled himself from his musings. “It is no imposition, Miss Bennet, I assure you. But pray, come inside out of the cold.” Turning to the woman standing slightly off to the side he added, “I would be most happy to make the acquaintance of your aunt.”

  Elizabeth exchanged a brief glance with her relation who nodded, before allowing Darcy’s footman to hand her into the coach. Sliding onto the front-facing seat, Elizabeth waited for her aunt to follow before performing the necessary introductions as Georgiana took the place beside her brother, explaining the circumstances that had led to their unexpected meeting.

  The footman latched the door and Darcy pulled his gaze away from Elizabeth, directing his attention to his sister. “Georgiana, is Mrs. Annesley not with you?”

  “Oh! I told her she might take the rest of the afternoon to complete her shopping.” Turning to her new acquaintances, she explained, “My companion has a daughter in Cornwall who is nearing her confinement. Mrs. Annesley will be traveling there to help with the babe, and I know there were some purchases she wished to make before she departs.” Georgiana moved to face her brother. “You do not mind, do you, William?”