by Robin Helm
Miss Elizabeth came through next, leaning heavily on a footman’s arm.
Envy exploded in Darcy’s chest. Or was it jealousy? He pushed the thought away.
No, Darcy was angry—at himself. He was a gentleman. Gentlemen are supposed to predict a lady’s needs and fulfill them, but he had not anticipated that Miss Elizabeth would require an escort. If he were sane, perhaps he would have waited in the corridor outside her chambers. This simply proved again that he was not in full wits.
Before he knew what he was about, Darcy had already moved across the room and offered his arm to the injured lady.
He flared his nostrils. So much for avoiding her.
When Miss Elizabeth’s clear, jade-green eyes caught his gaze, it was as if every unpleasant feeling he had experienced in the past day and a half were swept away, leaving behind only an agreeable warmth in his soul. His heart swelled when, without hesitation, she reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm.
Why did she have this effect on him? And why did he enjoy it so much?
She smiled and all rational thought left his head.
“How are you?”
“Better than the last time I saw you, sir, that is for certain,” Miss Elizabeth said in a melodious voice. “We intended our outing, as one could call it, would commence earlier in the day, but after Mr. Jones’s examination, I needed a rest.”
“I am glad—” Darcy widened his eyes. “Not that you were so tired, but that you did not make the journey down the corridor earlier, for we would have missed you and your sister.”
What am I saying? I must be more careful or I will lead Miss Elizabeth to believe I am interested in her.
In an attempt to distract her from what he had just said, he continued, “We spent a good part of the morning riding the estate.”
Miss Elizabeth took a seat near an open window and took a deep breath of fresh air. Her sister bustled around her, making sure she was comfortable.
Once settled, Miss Bennet sat in a sofa perpendicular to her sister’s chair. Bingley moved to sit at the other end of it and the two fell into conversation. Darcy still stood between Miss Elizabeth’s chair and the window.
Miss Elizabeth asked, “And how have you found the estate during your ride, Mr. Darcy? Have you come to the rescue of any other unfortunate soul today?”
He shook his head. Everybody kept mentioning a rescue. He had only done what anyone would do.
She gestured at another wingchair across from hers. Of course, looking up at him while he was standing was probably hurting her neck. He took a seat.
“Some of the tenant farmhouses are in need of repair, but the tenants are hard workers. Their crop yield is admirable.” He felt his face heat. “But you will find the subject dull, I am sure. I should not speak of such things to a lady.”
“Though it might not interest most ladies, I am no stranger to this kind of conversation, sir.”
“Are you not?” he asked, holding back a smile. She could not understand what was involved.
“Since I walk about my father’s estate nearly every day, I have monitored the progress of the crops’ growth. I am good at noticing patterns. Over time, I became interested in why some farms produce more than others: the planting process, different methods of harvesting, and enhancements to irrigation. During my walks, I would compare what was being implemented at each farm with the patterns of growth and yield I was perceiving. After reading several books on these subjects, at times I have sat in on my father’s planning of rotations and improvements with his tenants.”
He blinked several times. “And does he rely on your opinions?”
She smiled, dazzling him again. “Let us say, at first he did not realize he was doing so, but after a while, he caught on and began seeking out my suggestions.”
An idea was making its way to the surface of his Elizabeth-addled brain. He cocked his head to the side. “Do you ever walk the grounds of Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth?”
She raised an eyebrow. He could see the wheels of her mind turning, trying to puzzle out what he was getting at. “I have permission from my father and Mr. Jansen, the owner of Netherfield, to do so, but I do not always have time to amble so far. I have strolled the farms closer to Longbourn property more often than the ones further away.”
“Since you know Mr. Jansen, and he gave you permission to walk about his estate, I must conclude you also have his confidence.”
“Why do you say that, sir?”
“Because the only farmhouses on the estate that are not in need of repairs are the ones closest to Longbourn.”
Her mouth fell open, and she covered it with her good hand. “Oh, no! Are some of the buildings further away badly in need of mending, Mr. Darcy?”
“I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. Please understand that I was not alleging that you are at fault in any way. The steward that Mr. Jansen hired to look after the place while it was unoccupied was fully to blame for any oversight. I only concluded that, since you observe so well, you must have noticed any time the houses you passed during your walks needed repair and passed on that information to Mr. Jansen.”
She nodded and looked out the window, across the grounds of Netherfield. He could tell she was looking beyond what was visible to what she knew was there in the distance. “You see, Mr. Jansen is elderly and lives in London with his daughter. He and his daughter have been dear friends to my family.” She turned back to him. “Could it be possible the steward did not keep up with this part of his job because he assumed I was marching about the entire estate and pointing these things out to Mr. Jansen when I corresponded with his daughter?”
Good heavens, Miss Elizabeth had a sharp mind, and she understood much about human nature. What she just stated was probably exactly what had happened, but she took too much responsibility on herself.
He hesitated a moment. The last was something his cousin had often said about him.
Darcy shook his head. “It matters not. It does not excuse the steward’s inaction. It was his job to look after the estate, not yours.”
She paused. Closing her eyes for a minute, she took several deep breaths, then met his gaze. “You are correct, of course. He was being paid to carry out a duty and failed. Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome.” He hoped she truly had accepted that the deficiency was in no way hers.
Silence settled between them. Darcy overheard Bingley mention they had met Mr. Phillips today. He nodded towards the other couple. “It must be nice to have family so close by in Meryton.”
“Yes, it is,” Miss Elizabeth said in a distracted tone.
“And I understand you have family in London?” he asked.
“Yes, my aunt and uncle live in Gracechurch Street. I visit with them from time to time.”
He certainly did not wish to speak about her relations in trade. Her arm in the sling caught his attention. “How are you managing, Miss Elizabeth? When I broke my arm as a youth, I found everyday tasks were not easy to accomplish.”
“I am managing with Jane’s and Sarah’s help.”
They sat in an awkward silence for a minute or two as Darcy wracked his brain for something to say next.
She saved him the trouble. “Is your sister at your home in London or does she presently reside in Derbyshire?”
Her pain had been so great on their ride to Netherfield that he had not been sure if she remembered their previous conversation. For some odd reason, it warmed his heart that she had. “She is staying with my aunt and uncle at their estate in Derbyshire, but they will soon return to London.”
“So you have family nearby at all times, too?”
He nodded. With Georgiana’s present state of mind, having a female relation who was willing to help her through her disappointment was a blessing, though sometimes he was not sure whether having relatives so near was more like a curse.
While it was nice having them available for advice about raising his sister, his aunts and uncle were always involving themselve
s in his business, as well. Including their insistence on whom he should marry. All three pressured him to marry his cousin Anne, but neither he nor Anne wished for such an arrangement.
From his perspective, Anne was like a sister to him, and she was too ill to provide an heir to the Darcy legacy.
For her part, while Anne’s goal of entering into a love-match sounded silly to him, he could understand her reasons for wanting one. She had put it very bluntly one day when she was irritable from feeling particularly unwell, saying she had suffered with illness and her mother’s controlling ways for her entire life thus far. Any man her mother could arrange to marry her would be from a titled family in dire straits who accepted the offer only for the promise of Anne’s money and property. Once married, she expected they would live separate lives. In other words, she would be alone until she died, with absolutely nothing she could call her own. This was not acceptable to her.
Darcy did not blame her.
Instead, Anne wished a marriage based on romance, to a man who would value her opinions, spend time with her, and share all aspects of his life with her. If she could not have that, Anne would remain single, meaning she would still be alone, but at least her inheritance and her estate would be hers to command.
Anne’s hopes and dreams of a love-match haunted him. The fantasy she described sounded like heaven. However, the truth was, he had never seen a love-match in his life, and chances were he never would.
He had to be realistic, even if his cousin Anne chose to lie to herself. Love-matches were just not done. Darcy was forced to pay attention to the rules of society for his sister’s sake and the future health of his estate.
Suddenly, he realized he had become lost in thought. He turned back to Miss Elizabeth, who examined him with curiosity.
He must not have been careful to guard his emotions, for she seemed to misunderstand what she had seen play across his face. “It is quite normal for one’s feelings about one’s family to have many sides.” She smiled. “You will see I understand completely when you meet the remainder of the Bennet family.” All humour disappeared from her face. “I imagine all kinds of love must be just as complex.”
Darcy thought he understood to what she was referring, but he wanted to make sure. “What do you mean?”
“You must admit that your love for your sister is somehow different than your friendship with Mr. Bingley, for example. Do you have any pets? A dog or cat? Do you have a special relationship with your horse?”
He nodded, unwilling to interrupt her train of thought by speaking.
“I believe there are seven forms of love, officially, though I do not think pets are included, and it is my opinion that there should be an eighth type of love just for them. They deserve it. However, ancient Greeks limited them to seven. There is romantic love, of course.” She extended her first, then second finger. “And deep friendship or comradery. The third is love of family. Then there is universal love—such as the love of God or charity due to a love of everyone. The Greeks listed flirtation as the fifth, but I personally disagree with that. It is possible to flirt with just about anyone, even if one despises the person. The sixth is practical love, which I have seen described as a warm, patient, long-standing love, such as can be found in people who have been married many years and share a real affection. The last is love of one’s self, which probably should have been mentioned first since this type of love is required before one is able to love anyone else. However, this love can also become distorted into something ugly, such as in narcissism or selfishness.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I take it you read Greek philosophy, Miss Elizabeth?”
She bit her bottom lip, then smiled impishly. “On occasion.”
“That is most unusual for a lady.”
“I find I have an insatiable need to learn everything I can about… well, everything! I have read most books from my father’s library, and I borrow from anyone who will let me. There is almost nothing I will not read.” She frowned. “Except now. Some books were sent to my room the day after we arrived at Netherfield, but I am having trouble focusing on the written word at the moment. It is disturbing, to say the least.”
“A problem with concentration?”
He noticed she was still not moving her head much when she shook her head only slightly.
“I cannot focus literally, not figuratively. The problem lies with my eyes. Mr. Jones expects it will fade in time.” She sighed quietly. “Jane read to me yesterday.”
“That was good of your sister.”
“My sister Jane is the personification of that word, Mr. Darcy.” Her gaze landed on Miss Bennet, and her features softened. “There exists no one kinder or more sweet-tempered in all the world. Years ago, our sister Kitty sketched a likeness of Jane in the margin of our dictionary next to the word good.”
She had said the last in a quiet moment. Miss Bennet must have heard her, for she blushed crimson.
Miss Elizabeth smiled weakly. She was blinking slower and more often than earlier.
He should not have encouraged her to speak so much—their conversation had worn her out.
“Would you like to return to your rooms, Miss Elizabeth?”
Miss Bennet turned quickly to look at her sister. She rose and came closer. “Lizzy, you promised to tell me if you wished to rest.”
Both gentlemen stood.
“I would have mentioned it in a minute or two,” answered Miss Elizabeth. “I was only just beginning to tire.”
Miss Bennet helped her sister up. Darcy stepped closer and held out his arm. Miss Elizabeth took it.
A pleasant warmth began where she touched him and radiated throughout his chest. Every fibre of his being wanted to lay his own hand over hers, but he refrained.
Bingley and Miss Bennet trailed behind as they walked very slowly down the length of the corridor.
When they arrived at what used to be his room, the ladies entered. The door closed.
Darcy felt a sudden loneliness.
As he and Bingley moved away, Bingley said, “That was a nice visit.”
Darcy remained quiet. It was an excellent visit. He had never had such an interesting conversation with a lady before—but good heavens, what had happened to his vow to stay far away from Miss Elizabeth?
“Miss Bennet is an angel!” Bingley exclaimed.
Darcy looked at the ceiling. If he had a shilling for every time Bingley had said something similar about other ladies in the past, his wealth would be doubled.
“Care for a game of billiards, Darcy?”
“Maybe later.” Darcy headed down the hall to his rooms. He had to think about how he could avoid Miss Elizabeth for the remainder of her stay here without seeming rude. If he kept this up, he would certainly lead her into thinking there was something between them that could never be.
CHAPTER 6
Jane began to untie Elizabeth’s gown.
Elizabeth asked over her shoulder, “Did you have a nice conversation with Mr. Bingley?”
Elizabeth could hear the smile in her sister’s voice as she answered, “He is an amiable gentleman.”
“Quite handsome, too. I believe he is already half in love with you, Jane.”
Jane moved around to the front of her sister. “Lizzy! Do not tease me. We have had only two conversations so far.” Jane blushed prettily. “But you seemed to be getting along well with Mr. Darcy.”
Sarah entered, helped remove Elizabeth’s gown, and then returned to the dressing room to hang it up.
“Mr. Darcy is… interesting.”
“He seems quite interested in you, dearest Lizzy.” Jane smiled brightly.
“I will admit I do have warm feelings for him, but I would not count on their lasting. It most probably stems from his saving my life. I believe it is easy to mistake gratitude of that magnitude for affection.”
Jane’s smile faded. “I had not thought of it that way, but I suppose it could be.”
“Are you not glad you do not
have that problem with Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth winked at her sister. “I will hold off on making a decision as to how much I like Mr. Darcy for a while, though I am interested in what my opinion of him will be once we see him in company. Under normal circumstances.”
“You are always so wise.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Definitely not! Was I wise when I fell off Oakham Mount? I have learned the hard way to stop and think before I leap.”
Sarah re-entered the room and helped Elizabeth into bed. She was soon asleep.
It felt like only a few moments had passed when someone nudged her good shoulder.
“Lizzy?”
Elizabeth was too tired to respond.
“Lizzy? Mr. Jones is here to examine you.”
Elizabeth fluttered her eyes open. Judging by the shadows, it was afternoon. She moved to sit up, but—oh, her arm. She sighed and looked up at Jane and Mr. Jones, with Sarah standing a pace behind them.
“Relying on others is becoming quite tiresome.”
Mr. Jones nodded and moved to a side table where he had left his bag, turning his back to her as he prepared his equipment. It was obvious he was giving her a little privacy, but that word was not amongst her vocabulary at the moment. Jane and Sarah helped her sit up and arranged the pillows and covers.
Eventually, Mr. Jones turned back to them.
“My head is much better today,” Elizabeth said, “and though we took precautions on our trip down the corridor, I did not become dizzy at all. I still tire easily, but I think I am truly ready to go home now, sir.”
After going through the usual series of examinations, he said, “I understand you are having trouble reading?”
Elizabeth nodded and glanced at Jane, who was blushing. Apparently, she had been slipping notes to Mr. Jones again.
The apothecary held out a thin candle and asked her to follow it with only her eyes. Slowly, he moved it closer to her nose. It was a good foot away from her face when one candle suddenly looked like two candles. He tried it over and over again, with similar results.
“You will not be going home just yet, Miss Elizabeth.”
This would not do. Staying at Netherfield was dangerous. How much longer could she deny that her feelings for Mr. Darcy were real?
