by Beth Poppet
He could not tarry. She would soon notice him watching her. She would rebuke him for his examining her so. Oh, let her do it, and soon! For he could not bear the silence any longer!
“Mr Darcy.”
The quiet in her voice ended his present agony and began a new one. He closed the distance between them, not willing to be so far from her side even a moment longer. “Miss Eliz—Miss Bennet,” he nodded, and she dipped her own slight curtsy, but seemed to nearly wobble on her feet.
“Miss Bennet, are you ill?” he worried.
“No, I am well,” she answered, but offered no smile to affirm this. “Only tired, and… I have not slept since before yester night.”
“Indeed, you look very pale,” he asserted, heart pounding all the harder. “May I not escort you inside?”
“No, please. Let me linger a little longer.”
“You must allow me to do something,” he insisted. “Have a servant fetch you some wine? At the very least, let me hold the child while you take a moment to recover.”
“I thank you, yes. I think I should like to sit. Not indoors, though,” she pleaded. “Might we walk to the garden? There is a sweet little bench there, overlooking the late blooms.”
“Yes, at once.”
As they walked to the bench, Elizabeth seemed as one in a daze. When at last they reached the spot and she lowered herself onto the bench, Mr Darcy asked if he might take the liberty of sitting beside her.
“I do not think that would be too improper,” she teased, a little of her natural spirit flaring, “as we have Henry here to chaperone.”
“Is this young fellow to be christened Henry?”
“Oh. No…” She shook her head in confusion. “That is… there is some disagreement. Jane would call him Henry if she could, and I confess, I have already begun to think of him by that name. Perhaps he will be christened Percival Henry, and his aunt may call him by the latter.”
“Do you trust such a precious burden to me? It has not been a full two decades since Georgiana was a babe, and I have not entirely forgotten what it is like to hold such a small creature.”
Smiling, she transferred the sleeping babe into his arms, and he felt as if the weight of the world was lain there.
“How sweetly he sleeps.” Upon her declaration, she swayed a little and could not prevent her head from falling into her hand.
“Miss Elizabeth are you certain you are well?”
At this, she began to weep.
“For pity’s sake, let me take you inside,” he said hoarsely.
“No,” she cried, “Forgive me, please. It does me good to cry. I have not been able to these three days straight. What agonies poor, sweet Jane had to endure. What monstrous, unspeakable torments of mind and body, and through it all I could not weep. Not a single tear, for I would not give Jane cause for further grief. Let me stay and let me weep a little more. There,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the provided handkerchief, extracted with the arm that was not holding the infant.
“You see? I am a little better already.” She thanked him and touched a finger to the infant’s face. “And see what sweet comfort is here.”
“I would to God that you would never suffer so. It is agony to see you in such distress.”
She met his gaze then, weary and confused, though not untouched by his pronouncement. “You are most kind, Mr Darcy. But you must not make jests at such a time as this, for I fear I cannot rise to be amused in this moment.”
“I am in perfect earnest, Miss Bennet.”
Rather than answer him, she nodded her head, not as a sign of acceptance as the gentleman hoped, but rather of unutterable weariness that nearly overcame her.
“No. This will never do,” he announced gruffly. “You must allow me to grant you assistance. Here, take young Mr Collins.”
He returned the precious bundle, still sleeping, and removed his outer coat to wrap around Elizabeth’s shoulders. He worked quickly, lest she fall asleep before he could catch her and in so doing loosen her hold on the infant. Before such a tragedy befell, he had her up in his arms, the little one safely pressed between them.
His feet carried them to the great house rather than the parsonage, as he intended to have complete supervision over her care.
By the time they’d reached the grand entrance of Rosings, Elizabeth was in a sleep so sound she did not wake for all the shouting for servants that Mr Darcy echoed through the foyer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elizabeth awoke at Rosings with a foreboding stillness hanging over her that seemed to press heavily on her heart. The cries of labouring mother and newborn babe seemed a faraway dream after her long sleep, and she felt the quiet a strange and not entirely welcome change. She longed to go to Jane and see how she fared, but her movements were slow and sluggish, and she realised she did not even have a change of clothes to make her presentable for her walk downstairs.
As if in answer to this conundrum, Mary came through the door and pointed to a parcel on the bureau, containing what Elizabeth assumed was a fresh change of garments.
“You’ve slept very late,” Mary sniffed. “I’ve been up twice before, and both times you didn’t even twitch at my attempts to wake you. Mr Darcy asked me not to wake you, but he was also eager that you have your things, and I didn’t want you coming down looking as you do.”
Not willing to dwell on the matter of how she came to be in a bedchamber at Rosings, Lizzy replied, “Have I ever come down so entirely unpresentable, Mary?”
“You have been known to come trotting down the stairs with your hair loose, and your ribbon askew,” she nodded. “I have no way of being certain where your wildness draws the line.”
“Ah… before you go,” Elizabeth said, ignoring Mary’s intended reproach. “Is Lady Catherine very angry with me? I seem to recall her loudly expressing her displeasure, but I could not be certain whether I had merely dreamed it all.”
“I am surprised that you would need to ask such a question. Of course, Lady Catherine would be displeased with the woman who has upset all her plans for her nephew and Anne. For, as the ancients have said, ‘better to keep company with an honest enemy than to take to your bosom a false friend.’”
“If the ancients had been present in all our comings and goings here, they would know full well that I have made no pretence of being anyone’s friend.”
Mary had nothing more to say, deeming it wisest to let Lady Catherine do all the necessary admonishing when the time came.
Elizabeth dressed with haste, glad for the practice of arranging her toilette unassisted from the years of sharing one maid between five sisters. She imagined if she was quiet and quick, she might make her way down the stairs and out the door before anyone in the household was aware of it.
But Lady Catherine stood by the bottom of the grand staircase with all the poise and expectation of a disappointed mother. She had not seen her nephew since his shocking display of bringing Miss Bennet into the house and barking instructions to her servants that she not be disturbed, and as Lady Catherine was yet unable to relate her grievances to Mr Darcy, she would begin with Miss Bennet.
“Miss Bennet, there is something I would say to you,” she commanded, rather than informed. “Follow me into the library, where we will not be interrupted.”
“Madam, I am quite eager to return to my sister—”
“Your sister can wait. I daresay she is not going anywhere in a rush and will be exactly where you left her when I am done speaking my mind. It is in regards to a most delicate and immediate matter, and I will brook no refusal. Miss Bennet…” she waved a hand towards what must have been the direction of the library, believing absolutely that she would be obeyed.
Elizabeth did her best to comply, knowing she would not be released until Lady Catherine was satisfied, but she had been to the library at Rosings only once before, and finding it lacking, gloomy, and smelling more of Mrs Jenkinson’s camphor tinctures for Anne rather than the books kept there, she ha
d never devised a reason to return. Just as her confidence wavered and she considered the likelihood of Lady Catherine purposefully misdirecting her to make her as uncomfortable and confused as possible, they came to the room, and Elizabeth was forced to steel herself against the discomfort of being shut in with Lady Catherine and the distinct odours that awaited them there.
Lady Catherine did not offer Elizabeth a seat, nor did she set the precedent by sitting herself. This might have been a comfort, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to believe she was considering the briefness of their interlude but rather thought it more likely another sign of Her Ladyship’s displeasure.
Lady Catherine wasted no time in broaching the subject of that incident which so recently disturbed her. “Miss Bennet,” she began sharply, “are you aware of the state in which you entered my house yester eve?”
“As I was not aware that I had entered your house until I awoke this morning, I can only hazard to guess that it was not by my own devices, nor my own two feet.”
“You make yourself out to be far less clever than I know you to be,” she said with a tightened brow and severe eyes, “Your own two feet may not have brought you here, but I have no doubt it was your feminine devices that did. Do you claim to be in total ignorance as to who brought you into this house, and in what manner?”
“What I claim is the truth, which is fearfully dull in comparison to the drama you seem to attribute to me. My last memory before waking in one of your rooms was of holding my newborn nephew in the garden. As Your Ladyship has said nothing of him during this exchange, I can only hope that means he is well and my lapse in fortitude did not bring him to harm.”
“Then you pretend to have no designs whatsoever on my nephew, Mr Darcy? Not even after he made such a spectacle of carrying you through my door, calling for all the servants to hear and witness until you were deposited in the room of his chusing?”
“You seem to have me confused for Mr Darcy. Would it not be more appropriate to question his intentions since it was his actions that caused such a disturbance? I do not know if you have ever involuntarily lost consciousness, Lady Catherine, but I assure you it is impossible to make protest of any kind when one is not capable of even opening one’s eyes.”
“Impertinent girl! This is only the pinnacle of a great many attempts to entice my nephew away from his responsibilities and into your cunning lure. I know of your flirtations in Hertfordshire, and the way you wheedled your way into his notice and attention! Do not think that I am ignorant of your sister’s recent marriage either, and the scandalous manner in which it came about. I know it all; that patched up business at the expense of your father and uncles. Is such an unscrupulous family to be so intimately connected to me!? I shudder to even think on it!”
Those fine eyes that first enraptured Mr Darcy were flashing with anger as Elizabeth replied hotly, “I must be clever indeed to be capable of tricking a man into paying me heed against his own will, and even springing traps whilst unconscious! If Mr Darcy is so easily swayed as you say, I wonder that you would still wish him to marry your daughter.”
This nearly gave Lady Catherine pause, yet she recovered admirably well in order to explain, “The engagement was one made between his mother and hers from infancy. He may not have considered the binding nature of it for some time, but I shall certainly make him aware of it now.”
“Then I must repeat; your complaint seems to be entirely against Mr Darcy himself, and can have no effect on me.”
“Miss Bennet! I have borne your discourteous responses to me more than once in this house, and I will abide them no longer! Answer me once and for all! Are you engaged to my nephew!?”
“I am not.”
“And will you promise me never to enter into such an arrangement, should he forget himself so entirely as to make you an offer?”
The answer was on her lips, she was a breath away from speaking her refusal aloud when an intrusion was made in the form of Mr Darcy himself. He had seen them disappear into the library some time ago and had bided his time pacing outside the door all the while. When their voices rose to a volume loud enough to hear beyond the closed walls, he felt he could no longer remain eavesdropping without losing some level of self-respect, and so entered unannounced. His aunt’s expression was a strange one of triumph, as if she expected him to fully support her in whatever she was about.
“Aunt Catherine,” he said, and then a nod to Elizabeth, “would you be so good as to explain why you keep Miss Bennet delayed here when her sister is in such desperate need of her?”
“What I have to say pertains to you as well. You are welcome to remain and sort out this sorry presumption of Miss Bennet’s with your own words.”
“I will speak to you in private by and by if you wish, Aunt. At present, Miss Bennet is wanted elsewhere, and you do her a great disservice by keeping her here against her will.”
“Your language is extraordinary, Fitzwilliam. I am hardly holding her prisoner here. She is free to go as she chuses, though it was my home she took hospitality from when she fell faint.”
“She neither chose to impose on you, nor would her good nature allow her to refuse an interview such as you make a habit of foisting on others, I know all too well. Now, if you will excuse us… Miss Bennet?” he said, offering her an escape with a gentle nod to the open door.
Bewildered almost into silence, Elizabeth barely gathered wits enough to bid Lady Catherine a good day and make her exit.
“Fitzwilliam, I refuse to allow you to escort her!”
“I am not a boy of ten anymore, Aunt. I will respect your position and years when appropriate, but you are not my guardian and I am not subject to your orders. I will see Miss Bennet to the parsonage and return shortly to speak with you.”
So shaken was she by the heated exchange with Lady Catherine and the sudden appearance of the very man she was ordered to refuse, Elizabeth did not know where to safely set her gaze as she went out into the open air with Mr Darcy.
He was the first to speak once they were some paces away from the great house, though conversation did nothing to calm the erratic nature of Elizabeth’s beating heart, nor the heated flush in her cheeks.
“I… forgive me,” he said, “I did not intend to force you into my company. But may I walk you to the Collins’s? I understand if you are desirous of making the easy journey alone, especially after the uncivil behaviour of my aunt towards you.”
“Mr Darcy,” she said in an attempt to regain her usual presence of mind, “your aunt’s behaviour does not reflect upon your own. It would hardly be fair to punish you for the unsuitability of your relations, as you did not chuse them any more than I chose mine.”
She expected him to frown at such an insinuation, or to have a sharp rebuttal at the ready, but he merely smiled with a look that was almost warm in nature, and, “As you say,” was all that he stated.
As they walked, Elizabeth mused distractedly over her uncomfortable interview with Lady Catherine and what it could possibly mean that Mr Darcy should rush in to defend her so. She blushed to think he might have heard the heart of their conversation and her embarrassment only increased as the events of the previous day came flooding back as well. She had not been wholly truthful to Lady Catherine regarding her recollection of being moved to the great house. Mr Darcy had been with her in the garden, of that she was certain, and as she awoke in his aunt’s house the following day there was no other explanation besides his having escorted her there in his arms.
Mr Darcy walked silently beside her, and Elizabeth dared to speak. “I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you last evening, and the continued trouble I expect you’ll be subject to on account of it.”
“I beg you would not apologise for something I was glad to do,” he said amiably. “I intend to tell my aunt as much when I return to the house.”
“Still, I fear I have unwittingly placed you in a difficult position by my stubbornness. I might have heeded your advice and gone indoors bef
ore my weariness overtook me.”
He halted their walk and seemed to find reason to study a particular shrub in the distance before responding. “The situation I find myself in is all my own doing, I assure you. It was I who chose to take you to Rosings and forsook propriety in favour of my own wish to ensure you were properly cared for.” He smiled at Elizabeth’s wondering glance. “I feared returning you to the parsonage would interfere with your rest as I know how dutifully you care for your sister, even to your own detriment. The blame can be placed entirely on my own shoulders, and I pray you would not be troubled by my aunt’s complaints. Indeed, I came here for the express purpose of…” He took a long breath before he went on. When he did, there was something tender, though not altogether certain in his expression. “Miss Bennet, you once told me that my conduct and manner of speech spared you the disagreeable task of rejecting me, had I pressed my suit at the time. I am not entirely ignorant of what transpired between you and my aunt in the library, and though I was too cowardly to hear your answer then, the manner of your hesitation gave me reason to hope and I should like to hear your answer now. If your feelings towards me are unchanged I will broach the subject no more except to assure Lady Catherine that it is I alone who have acted to upset her plans. Though… I should hope to relay something far more unified and disastrous to her.”
His gaze shifted to her gloved hand that was so near to him he might reach out and touch it if he had less restraint. He struggled not to dwell on how proper and right she had felt in his arms the night before, as it only made the possibility of her rejection all the more agonising.
“My feelings are so changed…” she faltered, not for lack of purpose, but for disbelief. “I have long since regretted my words to you then. Not only for my hasty reaction to your warning of Wickham’s character, but in my unkind responses that followed yours. I do not think you were finished penning your letter before I had regretted nearly everything that I had said to you.” She met his look of hope with one of glad acceptance. “I have sought opportunity to tell you so, but… I am glad to finally say that my feelings are quite the opposite.”
