“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head against his shoulder. “I did not expect you so soon. I know you have many other concerns.”
“None as important as you. Surely you knew I would come.”
Her silence was more telling than any words could be.
“You should have known it. I have been longing for any excuse to come to Meryton, and I was grateful that you wrote to me.”
A female voice spoke from behind him. “Lizzy!” Jane exclaimed.
They leapt apart. Elizabeth, her immediate mortification at being caught in such a compromising position slightly ameliorated by her recollection that Jane was already party to some of her shocking behaviour, tried to busy herself by taking the baby from her sister’s arms. Jane looked haggard, as if she had slept little. Charlie seemed to have vanished.
“Mr. Darcy, I had not realized you were here. Perhaps we should adjourn to the sitting room. The heat will be less there.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy surreptitiously as he followed Jane, but he did not show any of the embarrassment she had anticipated. Perhaps he was well trained not to betray such sensibilities.
“Mrs. Browning, it is a pleasure to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were happier,” he said when they had traversed the few feet to the sitting room. “I was sorry to hear of your husband’s illness.”
Jane nodded in acknowledgment. “It is good of you to have come all this way.”
“I will be happy to do anything in my power to offer you assistance.”
“I thank you and will keep your offer in mind.”
Darcy ploughed on. “I have already taken some action in this regard. My solicitor is even now en route to meet with your uncle, Mr. Philips. Mr. Gardiner advised me he would be of assistance in letting a suitable accommodation for Mrs. Bennet and your family. There is also the question of providing the care Mr. Browning will require, should his condition fail to improve.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who sat with her hands folded and her eyes on the floor. Clearly the response would be up to her. “That is very generous of you, sir, but I do not see how we could accept your offer, as it is one we could never hope to repay.” She dared not look at Darcy.
“I do not expect repayment. It is perfectly appropriate for me to provide for my wife’s family.”
Her attention snapped to his eyes. His steady gaze held her like a warm embrace. He was not smiling, but his satisfaction was evident. He said, more gently, “The notice of our engagement is to appear in today’s newspapers. That will stem any notions of impropriety.”
Was it so simple? She could not complain of his choice, since he could have no doubt about her acceptance of his hand, but the audacity of his actions was surprising. She cocked her head to one side and said, “You seem to have taken everything in hand quite quickly, Mr. Darcy. Tell me, are we married already? I would so dislike missing the event.”
Now he did smile, the open, free smile she remembered from their walks in Moorsfield. “Unfortunately the rector insisted that I must wait for your presence, but there is no time like the present, Miss Bennet. I imagine the curate here is awake.”
There was a soft gasp, and Elizabeth patted Jane’s hand. “Do not fret, dearest Jane. Mr. Darcy is but teasing.”
Jane rose to her feet. “I am glad of that, but I am far more delighted that you have come to an understanding with my sister, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the family.” Although Jane’s smile was warm, Elizabeth thought she detected shadows in her eyes. How could it be otherwise? This was a reminder that Jane had been forced to forgo the privilege now granted Elizabeth: marrying the man she loved.
Darcy bowed. “I thank you.” There was one more duty he wanted to discharge before she left. He turned to Elizabeth. “Though I am loath to part from you, I must request a private audience with your sister.”
To his surprise, Elizabeth looked more relieved than concerned. “You hardly need my permission for that, sir. I will see you later, I hope?”
“You may depend upon it.” He hated to part from her even for the few minutes it would take.
The light seemed to grow dimmer when Elizabeth closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with her sister in the small room. Jane’s mouth was set in a thin line.
“Mr. Darcy, if your intentions towards my sister are less than honourable, you must know that no amount of generosity could purchase my cooperation with such a proposal.”
Taken aback by her sharpness, Darcy said, “Everything I have said to her today is true. I intend to marry her, and the sooner, the better.”
Jane seemed to relax at that and used her foot to start the cradle rocking again. “I am sorry if I offended you. I could think of no other matter you would wish to hide from Lizzy.”
“I apologize for the confusion. The matter of which I wish to speak to you has nothing to do with Elizabeth, or even with me. I am merely the messenger. I was asked to deliver a letter to you, and I thought it best done in private.” He drew out the letter from his pocket and held it out.
Jane eyed it hesitantly, as if it were a serpent. “Who is it from?”
Darcy fixed his gaze on the mantelpiece before replying. “Mr. Bingley.” He waited until he felt the letter tugged from his grasp and then he went to the window, pretending a great interest in the alley outside. It would be unfair to observe her in such a private moment.
The seconds seemed to tick by interminably. How long would it take her to read it? It had not appeared to be a lengthy epistle, though he knew what a struggle it could be to make out Bingley’s words. From the wavy outline of her form reflected in the uneven glass, she seemed still to be reading it.
He heard a sniffle and bit his lip hard. He had been afraid it would upset her. It had gone against his instincts to give it to her, but he could not break his word to Bingley. He willed her to finish reading it so he could go to Elizabeth.
The reflection moved abruptly, and he turned to see her carefully place the letter in the cold hearth and set a candle flame to the corner of it. He watched with her as the corners of the paper curled up and turned black. When the flames had devoured the letter and died down, she straightened, looking far older than the carefree, smiling girl who had danced with Bingley at the Meryton Assembly.
“If you wish, I can deliver a reply when I return to London. No one need be the wiser.” It was the only thing he could offer in the face of her pain.
When she looked at him, her eyes were full of unshed tears. “There will be no reply. Nothing has changed. You may tell him that, if you choose.”
He nodded gravely. “I will.”
She leaned over the cradle, gently folding back the edge of the swaddling cloth in order to see the baby’s face better. Her strong emotions were almost palpable.
“Can I get you anything for your present relief? A glass of wine?”
She touched the infant’s hand, and the tiny fingers wrapped tightly around hers. She gave a polite smile and said, “I thank you, no. I am perfectly well. I wonder where Lizzy has gone.”
Darcy knew a dismissal when he heard it. He executed a formal bow. “I will seek her out.” He left the room, but he knew he would not soon forget the emptiness of her countenance as she watched her child sleep.
He looked into the shop, but it was still shuttered and empty. He had never been farther into the private apartment than the sitting room. He followed the narrow hallway past a dining room. The odor of spices told him the final door was the kitchen.
The heat of the room struck him first, coming from the hearth where two pots hung. Elizabeth stood with her back to him, her finger tracing words in a well-worn notebook. She took two onions, chopped off the ends, peeled the brown skin, and then looked back to the book. The sight of her stopped Darcy in his tracks.
Would he always feel as if the room had shifted when he laid eyes on her? Even doing such a mundane task, one suited to a servant, her livelin
ess could not be diminished. The elegant sweep of her arm as she reached for a handful of cloves was better suited to a ballroom than a kitchen, but even so, he could not help running his eyes along the sweep of bare skin below her sleeves. She took his breath away, even when he could not see her face.
His fingers ached to touch her, but he relished the chance to watch her unobserved. He had not made any fixed plans for where he would go once his tasks in Meryton were accomplished, but at that moment he decided that nothing would make him leave Meryton until Elizabeth could go with him. If it meant staying at the inn for weeks, so be it. He could not bring himself to leave her, even for a day.
He watched, mesmerized, as Elizabeth raised her hand to her face, as if wiping something away. With a start, Darcy awoke to reality—that the woman he loved, who deserved only the best of everything, whose life should be free of cares, was doing the work of a servant. He had known it to be the case when he saw her chapped hands, but it was different to witness it.
One by one she pressed cloves into the onions and then added them to the large pot hanging over the hearth. She stirred the contents, then, when she looked up, she spotted him. Her cheeks were immediately covered with the deepest blush.
Even in her discomfort, she gave him a cheeky smile. “Unless you perchance have a pressing interest in a recipe for curry soup, you may be more comfortable in the sitting room.”
“How could I be comfortable there when you are here?”
Elizabeth put a hand on her hip. “This is not such a bad place to be.”
“Perhaps not, but I would not wish to see you so.”
“Nor do I, though my reason may be different from yours. Cooking, you see, is not among my accomplishments, and I deeply regret that I will have to eat the product of my labours. It is not a fate I would wish on a friend.”
Once again, she had effectively disarmed him with her wit, but it still pained him to see the perspiration on her brow. “Where is Charlie?”
“No doubt emptying the chamber pots or bathing Mr. Browning. He has already made breakfast, been to the butcher and the greengrocer, built up the fire, and put on water to heat. He cannot read well enough to make out the recipe, so I do this part.” She stuck cloves into the onion. “Please do not say anything; I do what is needed.”
“You will have assistance soon. One of my maids will be arriving this afternoon and will stay as long as she is needed.”
“You have been busy indeed! Have you spoken to Jane about this?”
“Not yet, but I shall. I hope she will not object; in this case, it is a fortunate happenstance. The girl needs to leave London, and your sister needs assistance.”
Elizabeth surreptitiously wiped her irritated eyes. “If she has to leave London, is she suitable for working here?”
“It is not that kind of situation. She made an enemy in London through no fault of her own, and she will be safer beyond his reach. She is a country girl.”
“You take a great deal of interest in your servants’ welfare.”
“My cousin says I am too soft on them.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, or Miss de Bourgh?” She found it hard to picture either of them making such a statement.
“The colonel’s brother, in fact. You have been spared meeting him, for which I thank God.” There was a new hardness in his voice.
Elizabeth glanced up at him as her fingers unwrapped the package from the butcher. A veal knuckle; Charlie had chosen Mr. Browning’s favourite for the soup. She added it to the pot and rinsed her hands in the last dregs of washing water. She removed the apron, carefully not meeting Mr. Darcy’s eyes. “I must go out for a short time, sir. If you will excuse me.”
“Is there any way in which I can assist you?”
She stopped short at his words. Cocking her head to the side, she made a show of looking him up and down. “I fear you are somewhat overdressed to fetch water, sir.”
He did not return her smile. “You should not be fetching water.”
“I have been fetching water for weeks, and it seems to have done me no lasting harm.” She bobbed a quick curtsey and made her escape before he could object again.
He was quicker than she and blocked her way into the alley. She made no resistance when he took the buckets from her; it would hardly do to tussle over them.
He said, “I will do it.”
Her lips twitched at the ridiculous idea of his finely dressed figure pumping water. “The pump is on the village green. You cannot go there without being seen. It will create talk.”
“I know where it is. I have watered my horse there. You must know I cannot stand by while you do this, but I would be grateful to have your company.”
Elizabeth concurred, since she did not think she could stand to be parted from him in any case. Besides, she hoped her presence might distract him from the stares that were bound to follow him, so she maintained a lively conversation as they walked. She had not anticipated, however, the pleasure she obtained in watching his economical movements as he pumped water, the flexing of his arms displaying a power not often seen among members of the ton. She noted his inexperience with the process with some amusement, however. “If you fill the buckets to the rim, the water will slosh over the side when you carry them.”
“I am fortunate to have such a knowledgeable teacher.” Darcy tipped the bucket, allowing a small portion of the water to spill out.
“Hardly fortunate! The greater part of the population is very well versed in this particular skill. You, I fear, are in the minority.”
“Ah, but my teacher teaches my heart as well.”
“I have never heard of anyone carrying water with their heart. It must be a very advanced skill.”
Her teasing warmed him and made him wish they were alone. Although the townspeople were giving them wide berth, the clatter of hoof beats and cart wheels on the cobblestones reminded him that they were on High Street. The words he wished to say would have to wait. Instead, he hefted the buckets. While the weight did not strain him, it angered him to think that Elizabeth had been bearing such a burden, but even a demeaning chore such as this was a pleasure when Elizabeth’s eyes were sparkling at him.
Elizabeth led Darcy back through the garden to the kitchen door. It stood open, allowing the heat to escape. Inside, Charlie was vigourously scrubbing the table. When he spotted Darcy carrying the buckets of water, his eyes widened. “I can take those, sir,” he said, dropping the rag and hastening to relieve Darcy of his burden. He set the buckets in the far corner.
A wail pierced the air from the direction of the sitting room. Charlie said, “He’s been at it again, Miss Bennet. I offered to take him, but she said no.”
Elizabeth shook her head in disapproval and glanced apologetically at Darcy. “I wish I could offer you a more pleasant visit, sir, but I fear my sister requires my assistance. She should rest.”
“You need not entertain me,” Darcy said gravely. In truth, he needed no entertainment; being in Elizabeth’s company was all he desired. He followed her into the hallway.
A few feet from the sitting room, she laid a hand on his arm. He stopped instantly. She tipped her head to the side, and with a mischievous look, she touched her fingertips to his lips. A shock of desire shook him at the unexpected, but more than welcome, touch. He could not resist catching her hand and pressing first one kiss, then another, into the curve of her palm. Elizabeth’s sudden, sharp inhalation, along with the colour filling her cheeks, told him that she was not indifferent to his actions. If only he could take her into his arms! But for now, this new intimacy was enough. He closed his eyes as he touched his lips to her flesh once more.
“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he said unsteadily. But anything further he might have said was drowned out by wails.
“I thank you for the compliment, but the other man in my life is calling for my attention, and he is less patient than you.” In a swirl of skirts, she vanished into the sitting room, only to reappear a moment later with
her nephew in her arms. The baby’s cries would not be silenced, though, until she took him into the garden.
Darcy watched in fascination as she spoke quiet nonsense in the baby’s ear, walking to and fro while rocking him against her shoulder. The baby’s hand found its way out of the swaddling clothes, and it waved about for a moment before the tiny fingers anchored themselves firmly in Elizabeth’s hair, pulling a curl out of its careful arrangement.
Behind him, the garden gate creaked open. He turned to see a woman accompanied by a servant carrying a covered basket. It was a moment before he could place her identity. It had been more than two years since he last saw her at Rosings.
“Lizzy, I brought you—” Mrs. Collins’s words trailed off abruptly when she spotted Darcy. “Mr. Darcy! What brings you to Meryton?”
So Elizabeth had not taken her friend into her confidence. “Mrs. Collins, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope your family is well.”
“Very well, thank you. I hope Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh are in the best of health.”
“I have not heard otherwise.” Darcy stepped closer to Elizabeth. After all the time he had spent longing for her, it seemed that there was always someone wanting to take her attention from him.
“I am glad to hear it.” She took the basket from the maid. “Annie, go ask Mrs. Browning what she would like you to do today.” Once the maid had left, Charlotte gestured to the basket. “Lizzy, shall I leave these things in the kitchen?”
“Thank you, Charlotte.” Elizabeth followed her friend into the kitchen, and Darcy trailed behind.
Mrs. Collins removed the checkered cloth from the basket and unloaded it. “Muffins, a raised giblet pie, a mutton shank, some biscuits, and a roasted partridge.”
“You see that Charlotte takes pity on my lack of skill in the kitchen,” Elizabeth said.
Mrs. Collins darted a curious glance in his direction. “I have a cook, and you do not. Is Mr. Browning any better today?”
“Much the same. He takes sips of broth.” Elizabeth gestured towards the pot over the fire.
Mr. Darcy's Obsession Page 18
