Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 4

by Jennifer Lang

  ‘Ah! You are awake, Miss.’

  Elizabeth propped herself up on one arm and looked towards the voice.

  ‘Mrs Reynolds!’ she said in surprise.

  Mrs Reynolds smiled.

  ‘You remember me, Miss. Well, that is good news. The master will be so pleased. We have been very worried about you. You had lost your memory entirely yesterday. You did not even know your own name, let alone mine.’

  Elizabeth put her hand to her head and winced.

  ‘You have a nasty lump, but the physician examined you and said you will make a full recovery.’

  ‘I must see to the baby. I must get up,’ said Elizabeth in a sudden panic as more memories came flooding back.

  She began to do just that but Mrs Reynolds said, ‘The baby is safe, Miss. He is being well cared for by the wife of the head groom, who has a baby of her own. You should not attempt to get up until the physician has seen you. It will not be long. He said he would call at nine o’clock.’

  Elizabeth glanced at the pretty clock on the mantelpiece. It said five minutes to nine.

  ‘Very well. But then I must dress and be on my way. I cannot trespass on your master’s hospitality any longer. I am sure I have discommoded him enough as it is.’

  ‘Why, Miss, it is no trespass. Have you forgotten you are a guest here?’

  ‘A guest?’ asked Elizabeth in surprise.

  ‘Yes, Miss. You are a house guest. You are attending the Pemberley Christmas house party as a friend of Miss Darcy. She will be here in a few days’ time, Miss. Until then, Lady Sarah is your hostess and Mr Darcy is your host.’

  ‘I do not remember any of that,’ said Elizabeth, shaking her head.

  ‘It is not unexpected, Miss. The physician said it might take some time for your memory to return. No doubt you will remember everything by and by,’

  Elizabeth said, ‘No doubt.’

  Her head was throbbing, for she had moved too suddenly when shaking her head, and she was now suffering for it. She put her hand to her forehead.

  ‘Is it still troubling you, Miss?’ asked Mrs Reynolds in concern.

  ‘I confess I do still have something of a headache,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It seems I have not recovered as well as I thought.’

  ‘Here, Miss. The physician left this for your head.’

  Elizabeth took the concoction Mrs Reynolds poured for her. Then she lay back quietly on her pillow until the throbbing began to subside.

  After a few minutes, Mrs Reynolds said, ‘You seem a little better now, Miss. If you think you can sit up I will fetch you something to put round your shoulders.’

  ‘Yes, I think I can manage that,’ said Elizabeth.

  She sat up once more. She did so very slowly this time, however, and with the realisation that she must move carefully if she were not to set her head aching.

  Mrs Reynolds fetched a beautiful lace peignoir belonging to Miss Darcy from the wardrobe and helped Elizabeth to put it on over her nightgown. Then there came the sound of the front door opening below and soon afterwards Mr Bannister, the physician, entered the room.

  ‘Well, now, this looks better,’ he said, on seeing that Elizabeth was awake and sitting up. He put his bag down on the side table and took her wrist, feeling her pulse as he looked down at her kindly. ‘And how are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘Much better, I thank you. Mrs Reynolds has been looking after me very well. My head aches a little, and if I move too quickly it begins to throb, but otherwise I am well.’

  ‘Ah, so you remember Mrs Reynolds. That is promising. Do you remember who you are?’

  ‘Yes. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

  ‘Good, good. And can you tell me the date, Miss Bennet?’

  ‘Let me see, it must be the fourteenth of December.’

  ‘Good. Do you know where you are?’

  ‘Yes. I am at Pemberley.’

  ‘Well, that all seems satisfactory. Now if you will just allow me to examine your lump.’

  Elizabeth put her head forward so that he could examine it.

  ‘That seems to be mending nicely,’ he said. ‘It is not as bad as we first feared. I see no reason why you cannot get up today if you wish.’

  ‘Indeed I do wish,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘You must not expect to behave in your usual manner,’ he cautioned. ‘You cannot take any exercise and you should abstain from reading or other mental activity. But if you sit quietly, looking at a book of engravings or indulging in a little conversation, you should be well enough. If you begin to feel fatigued then you should rest. It is normal and nothing to worry about. Simply retire to your room and ring for Mrs Reynolds.’

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  He studied her for a moment and then, appearing satisfied with her colour, he said, ‘Let us see how you feel when you stand.’

  Elizabeth pushed back the covers and swung her feet carefully over the edge of the bed. She sat in that position for a minute and then she stood up, moving slowly and cautiously. She swayed a little on her feet but she managed to walk to the chair by the fire.

  ‘Good, good,’ said the physician. ‘I see no reason why you should not dress and have a light breakfast, as long as you do not overtire yourself.’

  He made her a bow and bid her good day. Once he had left, Mrs Reynolds helped her to wash and dress.

  ‘I have had one of Miss Georgiana’s gowns altered for you,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘I fear it will not be a perfect fit, and yet you are not too dissimilar in size and it will be better than your own gown at present.’

  ‘I cannot wear Miss Georgiana’s gown. It is too great an imposition,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘The master himself bade me have it altered for you, as your own gown was muddied and torn.’

  Elizabeth thought privately that Mr Darcy was used to seeing her in muddy petticoats but she did not say so to Mrs Reynolds. She reluctantly accepted the gown, for there was no choice, and as Mrs Reynolds slipped it over her head she experienced the difference between a home-made gown and a gown made by the finest dressmaker. Her own gowns were serviceable and attractive in their way, but they were nothing like the elegantly finished gowns of Miss Georgiana Darcy. There was ribbon to trim the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves, and lace inserted into the bodice. A frill of very fine lace decorated the round neck and at the back there was a short train.

  Once dressed, she went downstairs. She walked slowly and carefully, for she was a little unsteady on her feet. Mrs Reynolds held her arm to assist her and at last she entered the breakfast parlour, where she was served with hot chocolate and cake. Mrs Reynolds left her, but a footman stood by the sideboard and was ready to help her should help be needed.

  She sipped the chocolate and nibbled the cake, taking strength from the nourishment. She knew she had much to do, but for the moment she could do none of it. She must be patient and allow herself time to recover.

  Once she had finished her breakfast, she went into the drawing-room, supported by the footman. She had just settled herself on the sofa with the help of the footman when Mr Darcy himself appeared. He was looking perfect in a black tailcoat with cream breeches, a white frilled shirt and a starched cravat. She had forgotten how extremely attractive he was. His dark hair waved delectably, in a way that made her want to reach out and touch it, and his sideburns framed his face, setting off his deep brown eyes, well-shaped lips and strong jaw.

  She held her breath. The last thing she remembered was the angry words that had passed between them at Rosings. And yet here she was, at Pemberley, as Mr Darcy’s guest, so they must have met each other subsequently for there to have been some kind of rapprochement between them. If she was invited to the house party, they must now be on good terms with each other. Had it come about through his sister, Miss Darcy? Elizabeth wondered. She tried hard but she could not remember.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said with a formal bow.

  ‘Good morning,’ she returned with a tentative smile.

 
He gave an answering smile, and the smile reached his eyes, his gorgeous, chocolate-coloured eyes. His formal politeness thawed to the warmth of genuine feeling.

  ‘I am very glad to see you looking so well,’ he said. ‘Mr Bannister reported to me and told me of your recovery but I did not believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. You were so pale and confused last night that I . . . we were all very concerned.’

  Elizabeth noticed the hesitation and a tingle washed up from her toes. Could it be that he still had feelings for her? She searched her own feelings and knew she certainly had feelings for him. There was a very strong regard, coupled with a tenderness she could not deny. She hardly dared admit to herself that she was in love with him, and yet that was the feeling at the heart of her.

  If only she could remember . . .

  But cudgelling her brains would do no good. Indeed, it might well do harm and set her head throbbing again. So she thanked him for his concern.

  ‘If you had not found me then things might have been very difficult, if not to say deadly,’ she remarked with a shiver.

  ‘Let us not think of that!’ he said. ‘I am only too glad that I was there. You say you are feeling better?’

  ‘Yes, I am much recovered,’ she said.

  ‘And your memory has returned, I understand?’

  ‘Yes, for the most part, although some things are still unclear.’

  He sat down on a chair opposite her.

  ‘That is only to be expected. It might take some time for all your memories to return. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Yes, I think you can. I have no memory of being invited to Pemberley, and no memory of any mention of the Pemberley Christmas house party. And my clothes, too, perplex me. Mrs Reynolds kindly had this dress altered for me on your orders, saying that my own was muddy and torn. But if I am a guest at Pemberley then why do I only have one gown?’

  ‘Ah.’ He paused and then went on, ruefully, ‘there is a reason for that. I have to tell you that in fact you were not invited to Pemberley.’

  ‘Not invited? Then I am not a guest?’ she asked, shocked. ‘Forgive me, I was told that I was a welcome guest. I would not have dreamed of trespassing on your hospitality had I realised that was not the case. You must be wishing me gone.’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘You are very welcome here.’

  ‘But I do not understand why Mrs Reynolds claimed I was a guest if I am not,’ said Elizabeth, puzzled.

  ‘When I found you last night in the stable I knew your presence here, without a chaperon, might lead to embarrassment for you, particularly as you were very ill and I knew you would have to stay. Luckily, Mrs Reynolds assumed you had been invited to the house party and she also assumed you were a friend of my sister. I did not disabuse her of the notion because it gave you a reason for being her and so it protected your reputation. My great aunt is in residence, acting as my hostess.’

  ‘But I was not invited, you say?’

  ‘No, you were not.’

  ‘And we have not seen each other since we were at Rosings?’

  ‘No, we have not.’

  ‘Then I must return to the inn,’ she said.

  She spoke with anxiety, for she felt suddenly awkward in his company. If she had not been invited then there had been no rapprochement between them and she could not be welcome, whatever politeness had compelled him to say.

  She stood up quickly, forgetting her condition, but sat down again as her head began to throb.

  ‘Believe me, it will be my honour to be your host until you are well enough to travel,’ he said quickly. ‘Indeed, I am now inviting you to stay. Besides, as Mrs Reynolds thinks you came her for the party it would look very odd if you left before it.’

  ‘I am sure my illness will serve as an excuse for me leaving, for I do not believe I can really be welcome,’ said Elizabeth, putting a hand to her head. ‘When last we met we parted with harsh words. I know what you think of me, and what you think of my family. Indeed, your letter made it quite clear. It is very kind of you to protect my reputation but I must insist on returning to the inn. I am sorry to trespass on your hospitality any further, but I would be grateful for the use of your carriage as I am still rather unsteady on my legs.’

  ‘There is no question of you leaving,’ he said in concern. ‘Mr Bannister made it quite clear you were not well enough to travel. You need rest if you are to recover.’

  ‘Mr Bannister does not understand my strong constitution. I am perfectly well enough to travel back to the inn. You have been very kind but I am sure you must have been wishing me elsewhere ever since last night,’ she said in distress.

  He looked at her in some consternation.

  ‘Whatever can have made you think such a thing?’ he asked. ‘I hope my behaviour has not led you to think it, for I must have been very remiss in my duties as your host if it did. Believe me, you are welcome to remain at Pemberley until you have fully recovered. Indeed, I would not have it otherwise.’

  She reassured him, saying, ‘Your behaviour has been exemplary. I have been cared for exceptionally well and believe me I am grateful for it. I know that if you had not found me, and sheltered me, things would have gone ill with me. But I know you dislike both me and my family and I do not wish to force you into a situation where you have to tolerate me. Your letter left me in no doubt as to your feelings.’

  ‘Oh, that letter!’ he said with a groan. ‘I might have known it would come back to haunt me. It was cruel and unmannerly and ungentlemanly and I have spent the last eight months wishing it unwritten.’

  She looked at him with surprise as she recognised the word ungentlemanly. She had flung it at him during their argument in the parlour at Rosings parsonage. She had been angry and had spoken in the heat of the moment but she had never meant him to take the word to heart. Indeed, she had not thought him capable of it. She had thought him so rude, arrogant and haughty that he seemed incapable of understanding criticism. But now it seemed that was not the case.

  He saw her surprise and said, ‘Yes. You see, I have attended to your complaints.’

  ‘I am sure I never expected it,’ she said, colouring slightly as she remembered her heated words in the parlour at Rosings, which had been spoken in haste. ‘If you have spent the last eight months regretting your letter, believe me, I have spent the last eight months regretting many of the things I said.’

  She flushed as she remembered just how forthright she had been.

  ‘You should not. Your words were just and I needed to hear them. I had been courted and flattered all my life, and it stung to hear the truth spoken to bravely. But I needed to hear it. I am only glad that you had the courage to do what no one else had done, and show me that my behaviour was unpardonable. I did not see it thus at first, of course. I defended myself in my letter without examining my own behaviour. But as time passed I came to see it in a truer light. In fact, no sooner had I put the letter into your hands and it had gone beyond recall than I started to regret it. Then, when I had no reply I felt even worse. I was sure you must despise me . . . and I was right. You refuse to remain beneath my roof even though you are far from well and the physician has told you not to travel.’

  ‘No, that is not it!’ cried Elizabeth, disturbed that he should think so.

  She could not tell him the real reason for her desire to leave. She knew that she must return her nephew to her sister as soon as possible, but she could not say so, for it would be too humiliating to reveal the truth.

  However, she intended to at least set his mind at rest on one thing. ‘I did not reply because it would not have been seemly for me to do so.’

  ‘In a letter, no, and I did not expect it. But I hoped for some indication that you had read my letter and forgiven me for some of your accusations, at least.’

  ‘How could I? I did not see you again.’

  ‘I called at the parsonage,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Yes, you did, but I was
out walking.’

  ‘I thought it was deliberate, so that you would not have to see me,’ he said.

  ‘No, not at all. I was reading your letter and trying to make sense of everything you had told me. Besides, I did not know you intended to call.’

  He relaxed a little, leaning back in his seat, but his expression showed that he was still uneasy.

  ‘Then you did not deliberately avoid me?’

  ‘No, I did not,’ she said. ‘I have always liked to walk and I had much to think about. By the time I returned, you had already left.’

  ‘Then if you do not hate me, will you at least stay here a few more days, until the physician says you are fit to leave?’

  ‘I do not have only myself to think of,’ she said. ‘I must return the baby to his mother at the inn. They will be worried about me. It is good of you to invite me, but I cannot stay.’

  She stood up, moving more carefully this time, but again her body betrayed her and her legs gave way beneath her.

  ‘Even with the carriage, you are not fit to travel,’ he said solicitously.

  Elizabeth shook her head in frustration but said, ‘I fear you are right.’

  ‘I will send one of the Pemberley maids to the inn and return the baby to his mother.’

  ‘No!’

  She could not let him send one of the maids with the baby or else the secret would be out. Mr Darcy would learn of Lydia’s disgrace and all his worst thoughts about her family would be confirmed.

  He looked surprised at her outburst and he frowned, perplexed.

  Elizabeth collected her thoughts.

  ‘Might I ask one of your servants to deliver a note to my maid at the inn? She will come for the baby and I will feel confident in relinquishing him to her care.’

  ‘Very well, if that is what you wish,’ he said. ‘Is the babe your cousin?’ he asked. The idea had occurred to him that morning. ‘Mrs Reynolds said the Gardiners had a young family. If they are staying at the inn I will be glad to invite them to Pemberley . . .’