by Leenie Brown
“May I be of service?” he asked Mr. Hill. “It would take time, but I could send for my physician if need be.”
Mr. Hill shook his head. “I do not think he would arrive in time,” he whispered softly.
“Does he still live?” Darcy asked.
Mr. Hill nodded slowly. “For now, but his heart is weak, and I am uncertain how long it will last.”
Darcy blew out a breath as the words of a physician standing in the master’s room at Pemberley replayed themselves in Mr. Hill’s comments. He, at least, had known such a time was coming, for his father had been weak for several months before the end. Elizabeth and her family had been taken unawares by this turn of events. Having just experienced a loss of a shocking nature, Darcy could well imagine the fear and sorrow that tore through each lady and servant. “If he survives the night and has grown no weaker, I will send for my physician. He cared for my father when his heart began to decline. He may have some answer.”
Mr. Hill thanked him and allowed him to leave.
There was nothing Darcy could do that the apothecary was not already doing. He would be of greater service below in the drawing room where he had left Elizbeth and Jane with Bingley. Hopefully, Bingley’s sisters had remained in the sitting room and had not imposed their presence upon the others. His wish was not to be granted, however, for Louisa was seated beside Jane, and Caroline had pulled a chair over near Elizabeth. Bingley hovered between the two Bennets and Hurst had ensconced himself in a far corner.
As Darcy entered, Caroline grasped Elizabeth’s hand and turned troubled eyes at Darcy. “I do hope you have brought us good news and not ill.”
Darcy shared a look with Bingley. Both knew that Caroline was playing a part. She was not cold-hearted. She was not hoping for the worst, but her being at Elizabeth’s side and offering comfort was most likely a ploy to garner his approval. She could have just as easily sat with Jane.
Darcy looked past her to the lady whom he wished to speak to alone. “He still lives, but his heart is weak.”
“He may die?” Mary asked pointedly.
Darcy drew a breath. “It is a possibility. I have offered to send for my physician should he be needed. He cared for my father when his heart was weak.” He shook his head. “I would like to say all will be well, but I cannot.”
“Mama?” Elizabeth asked.
“She knows your father is ill and has retired to her room. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia as well as Mr. Collins were attending her, though I expect Mr. Collins has since gone to see your father.” He cared not what Miss Bingley or anyone else in the room thought. He would be near Elizabeth as he spoke of such things, so he knelt before her.
“Mama will be so worried.” She shook her head and motioned to the room.
“Collins has assured her that he has no intention of turning anyone out,” Darcy whispered.
“He does not?”
“No. Your home is safe should the worst befall your father.” Not that Darcy would have allowed her to be put out. He would have insisted on making some sort of arrangement for her and her family, for they would eventually be his family, too, whether Elizabeth was willing to admit that now or not.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice catching as emotion once again threatened to overcome her.
“It was not I,” he replied.
She shook her head. “Not for my home being secured, for knowing what I needed to hear and speaking so plainly.”
“It is what I would have wanted.”
She smiled softly at him but said not a word. However, it was enough. He knew that even though she was in pain, he had provided her with a small amount of comfort. He pushed to his feet.
“I am staying the night,” he declared to Bingley. “Since I have offered to send for my physician, I wish to remain here to save time. I will send for my things and a man to be ready at any hour to ride off.”
“I shall see my sisters home and return with all that you need,” Bingley replied. And with a final word of parting to Miss Bennet, he gathered his sisters and Hurst and was off.
Darcy sighed and sank down into the chair Caroline had vacated and took up Elizabeth’s hand. “I will make certain you get to see him soon,” he whispered. Then, he rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes while continuing to hold her hand.
Chapter 9
Darcy stretched and rubbed his eyes as he looked out the window of the guest room he had been given for his use for as long as he might wish to use it. He had thanked both Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins for the offer, but he knew that no matter how much he might wish to stay so close to Elizabeth, he should not. The house was unsettled enough as it was with the master being ill. It did not need to see to an extra guest, especially when that guest had accommodations just three miles away. He sighed. He knew that even if Netherfield came equipped with a lady desperate to impress him with her skills, he should return to it rather than staying here.
“Come,” he called in response to the knock at his door.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Hill said as he stood just inside the room. “But the master is no worse nor is he much improved. If…” The man shifted uneasily. “If…”
“I shall send for my physician straight away. It is not an imposition,” he assured the man.
The senior servant visibly relaxed and thanked him before ducking out of the room with instructions to send the man Darcy had told to be ready. Darcy straightened his cravat as he checked his appearance one last time before exiting the room himself.
“Good morning,” Kitty greeted him with a smile as she came up the stairs and proceeded on to her room.
When she was not flitting about an assembly room or giggling over something with her younger sister, Miss Kitty seemed to be as sweet and long-suffering as her eldest sister, Miss Bennet. Darcy shook his head. He needed to do a more thorough assessment of people before making judgments about them. Had he not considered Collins a bit of a pompous fool at their first meeting? And yet, having observed him on his arrival at Longbourn and in the hallway yesterday, the man had not been arrogant but rather anxious to please and very compassionate.
“Mr. Darcy, I trust you slept well.” Mr. Collins rose from his place at the table as Darcy entered, nearly spilling his tea in his haste to show deference.
“As well as one might in such circumstances as these.”
“Right, right. That was perhaps silly of me to say. I should have considered…” his voice trailed off.
“Did you sleep well?” Darcy asked, earning him a look of surprise that was soon replaced with a more relaxed expression.
“As well as might be expected.” A small smile played at Collins’s lips. He returned to his tea, and the room fell silent for a moment before Mr. Collins cleared his throat and whispered. “I did not offend with my inquiry then?”
Darcy shook his head. “I have been known to say things in a fashion or at a time when it is,” he tipped his head and smiled wryly, “well, when it is most inadvisable. I struggle in company,” he added simply. “Among friends or with my tenants and staff, I have little trouble, but…” he ended the thought with a shrug.
“But you are Mr. Darcy,” the man across from him said in surprise.
“Yes, and that does make it worse, I assure you. I am supposed to be at ease, always dignified, and all that.” He was not entirely certain why he was sharing so much of himself with this awkward man whom he had only known for a short time.
“You are very candid,” Mr. Collins replied.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Darcy lifted his cup. “I suspect the death of my cousin has had somewhat of an altering effect on me.”
“As it might,” Collins agreed. “One does not know how the changes death brings will affect one until he has passed through the trial and emerged on the other side. Some become bitter and resentful, taking out their displeasure on any poor creature who might come across their path.”
He leaned back in his
chair and folded his hands across his abdomen, looking very much like a particular professor Darcy had sat under during his years at school. That instructor always reclined backwards and folded his hands when he was about to launch into a lengthy subject or make a point that he knew would make his students ponder and would raise debate. Darcy wondered which Collins was about to do, though he hoped it would not be a long sermon.
“Then others wallow in grief,” Collins continued, “dredging it up and wrapping it about their lives like a heavy mantle until all is consumed with melancholy and the light of a summer’s day with all its intensity cannot penetrate the gloomy fortresses they have created.”
Darcy returned his cup to the table and turned his attention to his plate while Collins spoke.
“The happy few are invigorated upon exiting their trial. The sanctity and blessing of life has been realized with new purpose, and they attack each day as if it were their last. For, when death has left its calling card, we all find ourselves reminded of the words of the apostle James, ‘For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.’ None of us are guaranteed a moment, let alone a day.”
Satisfied with his proclamation, the man leaned forward and took up his cup once again. “I think, the last response is the best,” he declared before taking a sip of his tea. “Good morning.” His teacup clattered as it was hastily returned to its saucer, so that he could rise.
Darcy followed suit, though a bit less frantically.
“Did you sleep?” he asked Elizabeth as she took her seat next to Jane and across from Mary.
She nodded. “The brandy helped.”
He had requested that she be sent a small amount of the relaxing elixir before he retired last night and was happy to hear it had been beneficial.
“You will eat?” He eyed the solitary cup before her.
Her lips curled up into a small smile. “After I have seen Papa.”
“My man has gone to town,” he replied.
“It is a most generous thing you do,” Mr. Collins interjected, his tone reverting from the capable lecturer of a moment ago to the one of a man still seeking his place and stepping carefully to avoid any unpleasantness that might lie on the path.
“I could not do otherwise,” Darcy assured him. “I am returning to Netherfield, but I had hoped to look in on your father before I left if you do not think he would mind the intrusion.”
It was agreed that Darcy would accompany Elizabeth to Mr. Bennet’s room as soon as Elizabeth had finished her tea.
~*~*~
“Papa,” Elizabeth said softly as she perched on the edge of his bed and took his hand. He looked so frail, though she thought his cheeks held more colour than they had last night.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes opened, and he smiled. “My Lizzy,” he said. “What brings you to see me this morning? Are there no meadows to roam?”
“Oh, Papa, how can I wander the countryside when you are not well. We have been worried.” She did not wish to be out of his sight, let alone some great distance from the house rambling through the countryside when he was lying in bed, so ill. Time with him was too precious. Hills and trees could wait. He could not.
“There is naught about which to worry my child. It is how life goes.”
“Papa,” she whispered softly and fought to keep her tears in check. She knew it was true, but she did not wish to hear it.
“Now, do not be missish, my dear,” he replied with a wink, “or I shall surely mistake you for one of your younger sisters.” He chuckled softly at her huff. Then his eyes moved beyond her to the gentleman standing at the door.
“Mr. Darcy wished to look in on you,” Elizabeth explained.
“He is here very early.”
“He did not leave yesterday,” Elizabeth replied. He had been so solicitous.
Darcy moved forward. “I wished to be near in case I could be of service in any way,” he explained.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes grew wide.
“I know I have not been the most amiable of neighbours,” Darcy continued. “For that I should like to ask your forgiveness.”
She could feel his presence casting a shadow on her from behind. It was oddly comforting having him so close that she could lean back and rest on him if she so chose. Quickly, she tucked such startling thoughts away.
Mr. Bennet looked from Darcy to his daughter and back. “We are all disagreeable at times,” he said. “I should hope we are all able to overlook a shortcoming or two. You are indeed forgiven, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“I must extend my condolences on the passing of your cousin. My Lizzy has told me that you were close.”
Though her father’s heart was weak, his mind was not. Elizabeth could see it in the way his eyes twinkled faintly. His curiosity was nearly as great as her own. However, a small conversation about Mr. Darcy’s cousin would likely quell it.
“We were betrothed,” Darcy answered plainly.
Again, Mr. Bennet’s eyes grew wide. “Indeed?”
No, Elizabeth thought, his curiosity was not going to be suppressed by statements such as that!
“The result of a promise made to my mother before she passed.”
“Not a love match then?”
Darcy shook his head. “Not on either side, but we were companionable and great friends.”
Elizabeth allowed her eyes to follow the pattern from one block to the next on her father’s quilt. Why her father chose this moment to become more like her mother, she did not know. However, if she were to remain quiet, perhaps the conversation would turn to more mundane things like the weather or crops.
“And what shall you do now?” Mr. Bennet asked. “An estate needs a mistress.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and groaned silently. Having one parent embarrass you in front of a handsome gentleman was enough. Why must her father insist upon joining her mother in such an activity?
Darcy shrugged. “Persuade another to take me on, I suppose.”
A faint pink stained Elizabeth’s cheeks, for she knew precisely whom he wished to persuade, but he was a reserved man. Surely, he would not say more.
“Pull that chair over,” Mr. Bennet said. “There is no need for you to stand for this interview. I am quite enjoying getting to know you.”
Darcy did as instructed.
“Will you seek a love match this time?” Mr. Bennet attempted to push up in his bed, and Elizabeth helped him while scolding softly that he should not ask such things. “What have I to do with my time, save discover a few things of interest,” he protested.
“I could read to you,” Elizabeth offered.
“I intend to marry for love,” Darcy replied.
Apparently, the reserved Mr. Darcy was intent upon continuing this conversation!
“I have four daughters,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Papa!” Elizabeth cried.
“He has twice the consequence of Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet retorted. “I must at least attempt to provide for you in my final hours.”
“Papa!” Elizabeth said once more, dread washing over her at his words.
“Mr. Bingley holds some promise,” Mr. Bennet continued, causing Elizabeth to gasp in exasperation.
There was little disguise to such a statement! At least her mother couched her inquiries in a more guarded fashion.
Darcy chuckled. “I would agree. My friend seems genuinely smitten; however, I do not know Miss Bennet’s sentiments on the arrangement.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Mr. Darcy was engaging in gossip with her father about her sister and his friend? Things were not right.
“I would venture her heart is engaged.” Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth, who had once again gasped softly. “If this conversation is going to be too shocking for you, my dear, you do not need to remain. I intend to talk about you next.”
Elizabeth darted wide eyes at Darcy, who was looking rather amused.
“I had hoped,” Darcy began.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. No, he was not going to speak about her, was he?
“To speak to you about Miss Elizabeth at some point,” he continued. “However, she has not given me permission to do so.”
Elizabeth wished to snatch a blanket from her father’s bed and toss it over her head with a hope that it would magically cause her to fade away, so that she could not hear this conversation or see the all too pleased look on her father’s face. However, none of those things were possible, so the best course of action seemed to be to take part in the discussion.
“It does not look at all like it will rain today,” she said.
Her father chuckled. “Well,” Mr. Bennet said, ignoring Elizabeth’s attempt to turn the conversation, “if she has not given you permission to speak to me, then I suppose I should not ask you about your intentions.”
“Indeed, you should not,” Darcy agreed. “Though I do assure you they are honorable.”
“I would not doubt it,” her father replied more seriously. “I look forward to when she does give you permission to speak to me.”
Darcy accepted Mr. Bennet’s words with a small incline of his head.
Indignation at being spoken of so freely without so much as a care for how she might feel rose within her and could not be contained. “She is not ever going to give you permission to speak to him,” she snapped. They were impossible. “Teasing at a time like this?”
She pushed off the bed. “I will return later when the room is not so crowded,” she said to her father before fleeing the room.
Chapter 10
Darcy watched her leave, and, while he wished to jump from his chair and chase after her to apologize, her father’s words stopped him.
“You love her?”
Darcy nodded. “I do.”
“And you have told her?”
Again, Darcy nodded.
Mr. Bennet shifted in his bed and pushed a pillow further in behind his back. “She wrestles with things. She always has.” He smoothed his blankets. “While the other girls accept things readily, Lizzy questions, which is not so bad a thing.” He blew out a shallow breath and winced as he did so. “Why did she refuse you?”
