The Darcy Brothers

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Excuse me? Another chance?” Her wide eyes and dropped jaw were a picture to treasure.

  How nice to finally regain the upper hand! “Forgive him his trespass on your feelings and allow him a fresh start. Give him an opportunity to show you a better side of himself.”

  “Why? What you propose seems hardly a fair trade, a very small favor that hardly balances—”

  “Let us just say, I do not like knowing you are out there in the world and thinking ill of him.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “You are an unusual man, Mr. Theophilus Darcy. But, in the interest of restoring your filial harmony, I will make every effort to do as you ask.”

  If his head—and every other part of his body—did not ache so badly, he would have urged Theseus into a joyous gallop.

  *****

  Darcy pressed his heels into his horse’s side. The familiar borders of Rosings were finally visible on the horizon. Bless Richard for arranging his obligations so he could accompany Georgiana to Rosings later in the week, enabling Darcy to leave within an hour of receiving Collins’ Express describing Theo’s injuries.

  The annoying little parson had a penchant for exaggeration to be sure, but he said that Theo was not grievously injured from his fall the previous afternoon. What did a vicar know about serious injury? The ankle and shoulder were troublesome to be sure, but Theo also struck his head. Darcy’s gut knotted tighter and he pressed his horse for more speed. He lost one brother to a head injury. Dear God, let him not lose another!

  How could Theo be so careless, so foolish? That horse—no, no he could not allow his anger to run loose in foolish thoughts. Theseus was a fine horse, and Theo a finer horseman. Had Darcy even told him that? No, he had not—nor any number of other encouraging things. He rarely spoke anything but criticism to his younger brother.

  Why?

  Theo’s reckless irresponsibility had caused so much—

  Darcy gulped back the lump in his throat. Theo was not truly to blame for anything that had happened. It was so much easier to blame Theo than delicate Georgiana or departed Sebastian. Theo was there to weather his disapproval and rebuke. But it was neither right nor fair for Theo to bear the brunt of Darcy’s anger against himself.

  A ragged cry of anguish tore from his throat. There was the terrible truth of it. Darcy blamed himself for everything:. Sebastian’s death, Georgiana’s near elopement, even Theo’s near dismissal from school. Only Theo was strong enough to bear the full force of Darcy’s turmoil.

  He needed to tell Theo that, before any more tragedy could befall the Darcy family and leave those words forever unsaid.

  *****

  Darcy knocked on the parsonage door, heart thundering in his ears. Collins himself opened the door so quickly he must have been sitting in the foyer waiting.

  “Mr. Darcy, welcome to my humble abode. We are so very grateful that you have graced us with your presence.” He bowed and ushered Darcy inside.

  “Yes, yes. Thank you. My brother—”

  “He has had the best of care. The surgeon just left, the very man my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh recommended—”

  “He is doing well, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth peeked over Collins’s shoulder.

  Had more welcome news ever been borne by a lovelier herald? He stepped past Collins. “Please, tell me everything.”

  “Indeed, sir.” She gestured toward the parlor.

  He shrugged off his coat and doffed his hat, handing them to a waiting Collins. Had he not been a vicar, he would have made an excellent butler.

  Elizabeth sat on the edge of the settee nearest the fire. Darcy pulled another chair as close as he dared. She peered into his eyes, studious lines across her brow.

  “I do not know what Mr. Collins said in his letter, but I feel quite certain your brother will fully recover. I saw the accident and—”

  “Saw the accident?”

  “I fear I was at fault. I was walking and startled his horse causing his fall. He struck his head on a branch, but he was only dazed for a moment. He dislocated his shoulder when he fell. That was the more serious injury. I was able to reset it—”

  “You?”

  “My father has suffered that same injury several times and our local surgeon taught me to assist my father.”

  “We are deeply in your debt, Miss Bennet.” She was so close. Her lavender scent draped around him. Her eyes were filled with such concern, compassion…All the cross, ill-tempered things he had said to her flooded his mind. He ran a finger along the inside of his cravat. “I…I…said some things…in Hertfordshire…that I am not proud of…” He clutched his temples. Blast the slowness of his tongue.

  “I appreciate that you recognize it, sir.”

  His head snapped up and he stared slack jawed. What did she mean by that? Was it absolution or condemnation of his abhorrent manners?

  “I…I…” he stammered. So like his tongue to fail him when he most needed it to craft appealing words.

  “I believe I should take you to your brother.”

  *****

  Getting to her feet, Elizabeth brushed past Darcy as he stood up and led the way out into the flag-stoned hallway, speaking to him over her shoulder as she walked.

  “It was the surgeon’s advice your brother remain here last night to rest; the parsonage is of more than adequate size, but with myself and Miss Lucas as guests, Mrs. Collins had no option but to accommodate him in her own sitting room.”

  She stopped outside a pine-paneled door and turned to look up at him, surprising an intense look upon his countenance. He seemed quite distracted and, when he made no response, she prompted: “Mr. Darcy?”

  With a start, he blinked. “Forgive me; you were saying?”

  Elizabeth gestured towards the door. “Mr. Theophilus Darcy is within.”

  Before Darcy could take hold of the handle, however, the door opened, and Mrs. Collins appeared before them.

  She smiled reassuringly at the gentleman, pressing a finger to her lips. “He sleeps, Mr. Darcy. The surgeon has administered more laudanum this morning but is confident your brother will be fit to be moved later in the day—though he must, of course, continue to rest. I shall arrange for some tea.” Charlotte turned to walk away but Darcy stayed her with his hand.

  “Mrs. Collins, I—we, are greatly in your debt. Thank you for your kindness and care of my brother. It is much appreciated.”

  It was Elizabeth’s turn to blink in surprise, and she turned away slightly to conceal her reaction as Charlotte spoke to him before heading along the passage towards the kitchen. Mr. Darcy’s tone was respectful and almost warm with gratitude. Had she truly, as his brother implied, not seen the best of him?

  Though she had considered overnight Mr. Theophilus Darcy’s words, Elizabeth had taken them lightly, along with her promise to give Mr. Darcy another chance; her ill opinion of the gentleman was too ingrained to be swept away with such ease. Yet she must give him merit. His prompt return, his blatant concern for his sibling and his consideration of her friend’s inconvenience had shown facets of a character she would not previously have given him credit for.

  Disinclined to indulge such charitable notions, she stepped away as the gentleman made to enter the room, but then he turned back to face her.

  “I would be much obliged if you would stay, Miss Bennet. I have had too much time in the saddle alone with my thoughts and to sit here with only they as companions will not serve me well.”

  Though she had quite her fill of the Darcy brothers as of late, Elizabeth nonetheless pushed aside her reluctance and preceded him into the room.

  Theo was reclining on a makeshift bed fashioned from the leather chaise lounge under the window, his strapped ankle resting on a strategically placed footstool. The temporary sling Elizabeth had formed from his cravat had been replaced with a sturdier, more professional support, the arm resting across the gentleman’s chest, which rose and fell with his breathing. His cheeks were flushed, no doubt fro
m a combination of the laudanum and the heat from the blazing fire in the nearby hearth, and Darcy strode to the window, throwing it open to admit a blast of fresh air.

  He then indicated to Elizabeth to take the seat placed near Theo’s side, but before pulling forward another for his own use, he stared down at the prone form of his brother. All the fears haunting him on his journey returned, though he knew he should trust to what he had been told. Theo was not in any danger and would make a full recovery.

  Yet he had taken a knock to his head; he had lost consciousness. Could there be damage yet to manifest itself? Darcy closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

  “Mr. Darcy?”

  He started, then turned to look down into Elizabeth’s face.

  “Do not take it too hard, sir. It could have been so much worse.”

  Little did she know how well he comprehended the sentiment; so much worse…

  “Sit down, sir.” Her voice was gentle and encouraging. “You have had a long night and a trying journey; you must take some relief from seeing your brother is well and in safe hands.”

  How was it she could determine what was going through his mind? He turned to pull forward a chair, and for a moment, silence reigned, the only sounds in the room the ticking of the long case clock in the corner and the crackle of logs in the hearth.

  Then, Darcy recalled himself. He had asked the lady to bear him company; he was duty bound to attempt some conversation, and recollecting their brief exchange the last time he had been at the parsonage, he comprehended his omission.

  “I—er—I trust your family is in good health, Miss Bennet?”

  He sat back in his seat, relieved when she smiled—not at him, it must be owned, but into the distance as though recollecting something or someone. Then, she turned her eyes upon him.

  “I believe they are, sir, though I have seen but little of them these few weeks.” Her gaze narrowed. “My eldest sister has been in Town for several months—have you never happened to see her there?”

  Feeling a little uneasy, Darcy shook his head. “No—I have not had the pleasure of coming across Miss Bennet.” The lady raised a brow, and he added, “London is a vast city. I am not surprised our paths have not crossed.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Oh, I think where there is no common acquaintance, one might happily venture into Town for any considerable length of time and avoid all manner of people—deliberately, or by accident.” She paused, studying him with a thoughtful air for a moment and Darcy stirred in his seat. “Yet I understand my sister and Mr. Bingley’s sisters exchanged calls?”

  He stared down at his feet for a moment. Well, Darcy, his conscience murmured, you brought this upon yourself. You would have company, and you would have hers. Distraction is what you sought, and now you have it. So answer her, Man. Find some words to satisfy her!

  “I do not reside with the Hursts when in Town. Thus, I am not privy to who their callers might be at any given time.”

  Elizabeth’s smile did not quite reach her eyes. “It is strange it was not mentioned in passing when you next met—but then, perhaps you do not see much of them either when in Town.” She tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. “From Miss Bingley’s correspondence with my sister, we understood you all to be much in company with each other.”

  Darcy frowned at this gross exaggeration on Miss Bingley’s part. “We have met on occasion, I cannot deny it. Yet surely it is all relative; what seems a great deal of time to one party might be very little to another.”

  The lady seemed to consider his words for a moment. “Yes, you do not strike me as someone who willingly seeks the company of others.”

  Uncertain how to respond, Darcy stared at her, but a sudden groan from the sleeping form beside them was sufficient to redirect their attention.

  “Fsssh.” The sound that fell from Theo's lips could hardly be called a word, but a frown now marred his brow.

  Elizabeth picked up a cloth from the table and, dipping it in a nearby bowl of water, she proceeded to mop Theo’s brow, lifting the curls upon his forehead as she did so.

  Darcy fought against a wave of jealousy; hard upon its heels came the desire to gain his mount and, as soon as practicable, fall from his saddle, that such kind ministrations and concern might be his due.

  Before he could allow this ludicrous notion any purchase, however, further distraction came at the sight of Elizabeth leaning over his brother to adjust his pillows.

  Dear Lord, if Theo should open his eyes now, what would he think?

  “Miss Bennet, I do believe –”

  “Do hush, Mr. Darcy.” She waved a hand at him. “He is trying to say something.”

  Darcy stood up and the lady stepped away, her face almost as flushed as his brother’s. Theo was restless, his head turning to and fro on the pillow, and she was quite correct: he was trying to form words.

  “Fish,” he then said, quite clearly. Then, he groaned, and mumbled, “I need fish—I want fish…help me…” before falling silent again and his movement calming.

  Darcy caught his breath, but Elizabeth frowned as she retook her seat. “Do you think he suffers from hunger?” He barely registered her words as she continued. “Is he becoming distressed?”

  Pulling himself together, he shook his head. “No—it is merely the laudanum. He is deep in dreams that can assume outlandish proportions.” He chose not to enlighten the lady further, despite her questioning gaze and turned to resume his own seat, his gaze fixed upon his brother’s face. Yet another memory from childhood took hold, a very young Theo running after him, his little legs unable to keep up; a Theo desperate for his elder brother’s company. They had been so close back then, when there had just been the two of them.

  “You and your brother,” Elizabeth’s voice drew him back into the present. “You are not very alike.”

  Attempting to marshal his thoughts, Darcy shook his head. “No, we are not.”

  “He has—if you will forgive me saying—such easy manners.”

  “And I do not.”

  Elizabeth sighed softly and shook her head. “I do not know. Perhaps it is just you are more—reserved.”

  “I do not have the talent some possess, including my brother, of conversing easily with people I do not know.” Darcy got to his feet and walked over to the open window. Then, he turned around to look at Elizabeth. Her air and countenance spoke of confusion, uncertainty.

  Then, she gestured towards Theo. “Your brother believes I misunderstand you.”

  Darcy frowned. The notion Theo had been discussing him with Elizabeth was unsettling.

  “And you, Miss Bennet? Is this your continued attempt to try to make out my character?”

  With a small smile, she shrugged her shoulders lightly. “Of course, for I have not been in company with you since the Netherfield Ball and thus there has been little enough opportunity.”

  He held her gaze, and she raised her chin slightly as though anticipating his response. The last thing he felt in need of just now was to be reminded of that evening, nor a repetition of the awkward conversation they had endured during their set.

  Fixed as their attention was on each other, neither of them noted the flickering of Theo’s eyelids and the slow opening of his eyes. His startled gaze, once a little more focused, took in the lady beside him, then travelled to his brother and, as he lowered his lids again, a slight smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

  Fortuitously, a light knock came upon the door heralding the return of Mrs. Collins and a serving girl bearing a tray of tea things, and Darcy let out a slow breath. Relieved by the timely interruption, he took the opportunity of resuming his seat. His request for Miss Bennet to bear him company had been to distract him from his memories and regrets but in its place had come all the force of his longing for her, and a renewed suspicion she did not hold him in much favor.

  “Mr. Darcy?” He looked up quickly and took the proffered cup of tea from Mrs. Collins with a smile.

  “T
hank you.”

  She smiled in return and turned to leave, resting a hand upon her friend’s shoulder as she passed her. At the door, she turned to face them.

  “I have dispatched Mr. Collins to Rosings, sir, with the most recent intelligence of Mr. Theophilus Darcy’s condition and of your safe return.” With that, she left them alone once more.

  Darcy took a sip of his tea, letting the hot liquid ease the growing restriction in his throat. Why did the maddening woman always reduce him to the idiocy of a schoolboy? He raised his eyes only to find Elizabeth studying him intently.

  Clearing his throat, he returned his cup to the saucer with a clash and quickly placed it on a side table.

  “She is an admirable woman, your friend.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed, she is.”

  The smile was endearing and no help whatsoever to his floundering heart; earlier, he was dashed if all he could focus on was that damnable curl dancing above the pale smooth skin of her neck as he followed her along the hallway. Now, he struggled to prevent his gaze from drifting to where the amber crucifix she often wore nestled on the same soft skin just above the hollow of her neckline.

  Tugging at the restraint of his neck-cloth as he felt warmth rising in his cheeks, Darcy sought desperately for a fresh topic of conversation.

  “This is a generous living.” He waved a hand to indicate the parsonage. “I believe Mr. and Mrs. Collins are comfortably placed in the neighborhood.”

  With a light laugh, Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed they are; though perhaps a little too close to the source of their good fortune.”

  He could not help but agree, but all the same, felt the need to defend his relation. “My aunt has her faults, Miss Bennet, but they are not of generosity. She is a good patroness to those dependent upon her.”

  A strange expression filtered over the lady’s countenance, and he frowned. Then, she spoke, “Having patronage over dependents—it is a solemn responsibility, is it not? One you would take as seriously as your aunt?”

  “Indeed. Why do you ask such a question?” Darcy knew he would regret it the moment the words passed his lips.