More to Love

by Robin Helm

  She carefully hefted the bulky hamper over a fence, setting it on the ground before climbing over herself. Jumping to the ground, she was unaware that the back of her dress had caught on a rough spot. A ripping sound soon alerted her to the disaster. She looked behind her to assess the damage.

  “No …” she groaned aloud. The bottom of her dress was torn and dirty.

  However, Netherfield was in view. Her mood darkened further, and she spoke with vehemence. “’Tis too late to return home. I shall try to get in without being announced, unobserved by the superior sisters and dour Mr. Darcy.”

  She bit her lip in vexation. Why am I always at my worst whenever I see that hateful man? He is always perfectly dressed and coiffed, and I am red-faced, sweaty, dirty, and disheveled. And out of breath.

  Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to go no further. Instead, she squared her shoulders, picked up the hamper, and marched across the grounds of Netherfield.

  “I am determined to avoid the man in my present state,” she said under her breath, looking at the ground as she hurried along. “I shall not give him further reason to despise me.”

  As she neared the house, she shivered, feeling she was being watched. Looking up quickly, she thought she saw a movement from a second story window, but before she could be sure, the curtain settled into place.

  I shall go through the servants’ entrance. Perhaps I could wash a bit of the dirt from my person before I see Mr. Bingley – or any of the other inhabitants of this grand house.

  But it was not to be.

  Mr. Bingley strode from the house, approached her, and took her burden. Silently, he led her to the front entrance where a servant stood by the open door.

  The footman reached for the hamper as Mr. Bingley looked toward Elizabeth. “Where shall he put your basket, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She blushed, thinking of facing the judgmental trio of Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst in her present state. “To my sister’s room, please. I am come to inquire after her, and I shall follow him to her chamber.”

  “You may go, Sims. Give the hamper to Lily, who waits outside Miss Bennet’s door. Tell her to put it in the lady’s room. I shall escort Miss Elizabeth to see her sister after she breaks her fast.” Bingley took her arm and began to guide her to the small dining room.

  Elizabeth shook her head and came to a full stop. “I beg you, Mr. Bingley. I much prefer to go to Jane’s room now. I would not appear at your table in such disarray. It would be an insult to you, your sisters, and your guest.”

  “I am alone this morning, Miss Elizabeth, and your appearance does not bother me in the least. In fact, I would be glad of your company.”

  She suddenly realized that Mr. Bingley, though kind as he always was, was unhappy. He did not smile. He was not his usual cheerful self, and she felt quite vain and selfish to be concerned with her appearance while he, quite obviously, suffered. She was mortified, for in focusing her attention on herself, she had failed to notice his distress.

  But, why is he so upset? Jane must be very ill, indeed.

  “Mr. Bingley?” she asked in alarm. “How is my sister? Is she in danger?”

  He shook his head and looked away. “She is sleeping now. As you no doubt heard, Lily stays outside her chamber. She checks on Miss Bennet every half hour and reports to me. Mr. Jones has already been to see her this morning, and, upon his advice, I sent for my physician from London. Nothing further can be done for her or anyone else until Mr. Beckett arrives.”

  Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm. “It seems you have thought of everything. Since Jane is asleep, certainly, I shall eat with you, though I fear the dirt of my travel shall stain your carpets,” she said softly, pointing to her muddy boots and the hem of her dress.

  “The dirt?” He stopped and looked at her. “I had not noticed.”

  The gentleman motioned to a footman. “Take a basin of hot water to the retiring room. Miss Bennet also requires several towels. You must clean her boots as well as you can, and have a maid come back with you to assist her.”

  The young man nodded and hurried away.

  Within a few moments, Elizabeth was washing her hands and face in the basin, handing the soiled cloths to the maid. She removed her shoes, leaving them outside the door, and pulled her bonnet off, leaving it on a table with the intention of retrieving it later.

  When the maid attempted to brush her hair, Elizabeth waved her away, unwilling to spend so much time on her appearance before she went to Jane. Instead she ran her fingers through her curls, trying and failing to restore some semblance of order. Throwing her hands up in the air, she left her hair loose, flowing down her back.

  I can do nothing further about my hair or this dress. Grooming shall simply have to wait. Let them judge me as they will.

  After Elizabeth finished her attempt to make herself presentable and retrieved her boots, the maid showed her to the small dining room.

  Mr. Bingley awaited her, standing by the sideboard. “Shall we serve ourselves?”

  She joined him, and they quickly filled their plates.

  Once they were seated, an uncomfortable silence filled the space.

  “Where are your sisters and Mr. Darcy?” she asked, turning to her companion. “Have they gone to London to avoid the danger of contracting Jane’s illness?”

  “No, Miss Elizabeth,” he answered gently. “Darcy is not doing well. He ran out into the storm to catch your sister as she fell from her horse. It appears he is in grave danger, and he is keeping to his rooms. My sisters were up quite late last night, as they were most distressed, and they have not yet come downstairs.”

  The guilt of her uncharitable thoughts stabbed her as tears filled her eyes. She turned her face away, reflecting on how wrong she had been.

  Mr. Darcy risked his own health to help my sister. He cannot be as bad as I thought.

  She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “I am most sorry. I had no idea he was ill. I wish there was a way I could help him.”

  “You must stay here, then. I shall send to Longbourn for your clothes, as well as Miss Bennet’s, directly. Miss Bennet will be much better if you are with her, and you may be able to read to Mr. Darcy. Caroline would gladly do it, but I fear she would hover, and he would hate that.”

  Elizabeth quickly returned her attention to the gentleman. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. Bingley, and I should be happy to be with my sister, but I am wary of sitting with Mr. Darcy in his chambers. Would that not be highly improper? Would he approve of such a plan?” she asked, hoping for a negative answer, for it seemed far too intimate for her comfort. “Can you not read to him?”

  “I tried last night, but he soon asked me to stop,” he replied, shaking his head. “Normally, I do not read for entertainment. Therefore, I have not his relish for reading poetry and classic literature, and I fear I cannot do his favourites justice. However, he has mentioned you to me several times, praising your taste in music and literature. A maid and I can sit with you. Whatever you require to put you at ease will be done.”

  Mr. Darcy has praised me? I do not believe it.

  “Sir, you are surely mistaken. To my knowledge, he has heard me play but once, and he can have no knowledge of my taste in books. We have had no conversation beyond a sentence or two.”

  Mr. Bingley looked at her solemnly. “Perhaps he overheard you talking with someone else. I shall ask him if he should like for you to read to him. If he wants you to do it, will you agree? A few footmen can carry him to the small drawing room adjoining his bedchamber and place him on a couch, if that would make you more comfortable. You could even leave the door to the hallway open.”

  Elizabeth strove to keep her voice low and persuasive. “Why are you so insistent on this matter? I shall be busy enough with Jane.”

  He drew his brows together and sighed. “When you see Miss Bennet, you will expose yourself to the illness she and Darcy suffer. I have already been with both invalids, but I insist that my sisters
stay away from them. We must limit the number of people who could possibly contract whatever sickness they have. Mr. Jones was adamant on the matter. You and I, along with a few servants, must care for your sister and my friend in order to stop the spread of the contagion. Both of them sleep a great deal. I think you could read to Darcy while she sleeps.”

  She took a deep breath, affected by his pleas for assistance. “I concede that you may be correct. However, you must ask him while I listen at his chamber door. I shall be guided by what he says. We should ask the physician if moving him is safe. I would not wish to repay his kindness to my poor sister by putting him in further distress, and one room is really no different from another if you and a maid are with me.”

  “Excellent,” he replied, smiling for the first time since she had arrived. “I shall send for your things and hers immediately. If you go to your sister now, she may be awake. You can change into a clean gown when your trunk arrives, then I shall talk to Darcy while you listen. Agreed?”

  She was resigned. “Agreed.” She hesitated a moment. “I shall write a note to my father and include a list of my favourite books to be brought from Longbourn.”

  “A wonderful notion! My own library is in a sad state. Now, Mills will show you to your sister’s room,” Bingley answered, gesturing to one of the footmen.

  Elizabeth followed the man, deep in thought.

  What have I agreed to? Why could I not think of an excuse? I feel certain Mr. Darcy dislikes me as much as I despise him.

  She shook her head, remembering that he had helped her sister at his own expense.

  Why would he risk his own health for a person he deemed so wholly beneath him?

  Men in general judge more from appearances than from reality. All men have eyes, but few have the gift of penetration.

  Niccolo Machiavelli

  Darcy felt his head would surely explode. He would have held it together with his hands, but his attention was diverted by the realization that his entire body was on fire. Chills and fever had plagued him, alternating throughout the night and day, and he ached in every muscle.

  The gentleman from Derbyshire was normally a taciturn man, unwilling to speak unless he was compelled to do so, but now, only the greatest inducement would cause him to impart his thoughts. He desired nothing so much as solitude and darkness, for light greatly increased his suffering.

  Yet, Bingley had ordered the curtains drawn and stood before him, looking for all the world as if he desired to converse.

  Darcy closed his eyes, hoping against hope his friend would think him asleep and leave him be.

  “Darcy. Are you awake? Darcy, I must talk to you.”

  Confound it all. He pried his eyes open. “I am now. What do you want?” he croaked, his throat hurting with the effort.

  He thought Bingley glanced towards the door, but he could not be certain of it.

  Darcy attempted to lift his head and see if anyone else was in the room, but his stiff neck and shoulders would not permit it.

  Bingley held a glass of water. “Are you thirsty?”

  The gentleman nodded, and his friend held the glass to his lips. When Darcy was finished, Bingley set the empty glass on the table by the bed.

  “Darcy, I have a question to ask.” Bingley hesitated, looking towards the door again.

  Is someone at the door? “Is Beckett here?”

  Bingley shook his head. “No, but he should arrive very soon. In the meantime, shall I read to you? I know you must be ready to run amok from boredom.”

  “You woke me to ask if I would have you read aloud? Nothing in your library is worth reading,” Darcy growled, coughing deeply. He put his hand over his chest and rubbed the soreness.

  Listening to Bingley’s reading is terrible enough. Listening while Bingley reads drivel is even worse.

  He had an earache, along with pain in every fiber of his being. The damp sheets stuck to his body; he badly needed a bath, along with a change of his bed linen. Darcy was decidedly unhappy.

  “I – sent for more books – ones you would like.”

  Darcy sighed. “Bingley, I have no wish to injure you, but there is no book in the known world which would not be ruined by your reading style,” he said hoarsely.

  Bingley’s face fell. “I know, but I think I have a solution.”

  The gentleman raised a brow. Please, please, I beg of you. Do not suggest Caroline read to me. I am suffering enough already.

  “What if someone else read to you instead? Someone who enjoys the same books you like.” Bingley’s voice was wheedling.

  Darcy groaned. ’Tis like kicking a puppy. I already feel bad enough without this. “No one here reads anything that would interest me.”

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet does.”

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here?” Probably to see her sister.

  The gentleman brightened in spite of himself. He very nearly assumed a pleasant expression. Fortunately, his head pounded at that moment, reminding him that he was most definitely not going to smile.

  Bingley grinned. “Indeed, and she sent for a crate full of her favourite books. She will stay to care for Miss Bennet, but I feel sure she would also read to you, if you wished for her to do so.”

  I would be at a distinct disadvantage. I must look positively horrible, and I cannot allow her or anyone else to see me looking like this. He drew a deep breath. Bingley has a fresh scent, but I smell like an animal – a pig comes to mind. Perhaps a goat. A wet dog?

  “She would not wish to spend her time with me, Bingley, for she is here for Miss Bennet.” I would not wish to raise her expectations, even though I admire her. I never toy with a lady’s affections.

  “But what if she agreed to entertain you with a book you would enjoy? She could read a passage, and you could discuss it with her. I am astounded at how much she knows. No other woman of my acquaintance is as well-read or as intelligent as Miss Elizabeth.”

  Bingley began to rub his lower lip with his index finger, his face a study in deep thought, obviously considering a conundrum.

  He seemed to reach a conclusion. “However, upon second thought, you may be right. You would be quite humiliated should you not be able to keep up with her lively mind. Please accept my apologies. I should never have brought it up.” Bingley waved a well-manicured hand and turned to go. “I shall leave you to your rest.”

  Darcy drew his brows together and painfully cleared his throat, coughing again. “Bingley.”

  The younger gentleman looked back. “Yes?”

  “Are you sure the lady is willing? Should we risk her succumbing to my illness?”

  Bingley returned to Darcy’s bedside. “She has already exposed herself by tending to her sister.”

  “I should not want to take her from Miss Bennet, especially if the lady feels as poorly as I do.” Though no one else could possibly feel as poorly as I do. Indeed, they would be dead.

  “Miss Elizabeth would come to you only when her sister sleeps.”

  Perhaps it might cheer me a bit, but what would people say? “Would she not worry about gossip? I should not like to ruin the good reputation of a superior woman.”

  Thinking he heard a gasp from the hallway, Darcy again tried, and failed, to raise his head enough to see the door.

  Bingley grabbed an extra pillow and tucked it under his friend’s head, helping him to sit up a bit.

  “Did you hear something just outside the door?” asked Darcy.

  Bingley leaned over him, displaying his concern by placing his hand on Darcy’s fevered, though noble, brow. “Are you hearing things? Having hallucinations?” He straightened up and wrung his hands. “Where could Beckett be? He should be here by now!” Bingley looked wildly around the room.

  Darcy turned his eyes heavenward. “Calm yourself. It must have been a footman.”

  Nodding energetically, Bingley replied, “I am certain you are right, as you usually are.”

  Darcy watched the door suspiciously. “Was that a muffled chu
ckle?”

  “Shall I look in the hallway?”

  The gentleman frowned. Perhaps I am imagining things. Can Bedlam be far behind? “No, I think not.”

  “Have you decided to agree to having Miss Elizabeth read to you? I can stay with her, along with a maid, to protect her innocence.”

  Darcy glared at him. “Her innocence? She is in no danger of being despoiled by me.”

  “I completely understand. You are no threat to young ladies. The very idea is preposterous.”

  He coughed. “What can you mean? I am much a threat as any other gentleman when a beautiful lady is alone with me. Are you questioning my manhood?”

  Bingley bit his lip. “Oh, I would never do that. I know you are quite dangerous. I think I shall tell Miss Elizabeth that you fear you cannot control yourself with her, and she should avoid you at all costs.”

  “Who is laughing in the hallway?” he attempted to bellow. It was not impressive, as he wheezed in the middle of his rant. “That is no footman. ’Tis a woman’s voice.”

  “Perhaps I should go see who is there. The maid may be waiting with your morning repast. I shall have to dismiss her without a reference if she laughed at you.”

  “No. Stay. A maid would have no reason to be merry at my expense. She must have exchanged a joke with a footman. I would not have her turned out for being cheerful.” He huffed a bit. “And I am quite able to manage my impulses. Please tell Miss Elizabeth that I should sincerely appreciate it if she would read to me at her convenience.”

  “As you wish. A maid and I will stay in the room. I would very much enjoy hearing the young lady read a novel or poetry. When you are well enough, we can move you to a chaise lounge in your sitting room.”

  “If you insist. Where is Roberts? He must have some hot water sent up. I need to bathe before I see anyone.”

  Bingley sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “A capital idea. I am certain a soak in the tub will make you – feel better.”

  Darcy narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon. I have had no opportunity to wash since yesterday morn, as I have been quite occupied in being ill.”