Although she could not forgive him for his interference with Jane, she could at least repay him for his hospitality by attempting civility. After all, if it were not for all this sorry business with Lydia, he would not tolerate my presence. It was some consolation that her low esteem for him was equally met by his towards her. Humph! At least in that we are equals!
She wondered at Mr. Wickham’s contrary description of Miss Darcy; he had said she was much like her brother — exceedingly proud. Elizabeth did not see that at all. She had been spirited when she greeted her brother and cousin, and she only became excruciatingly shy upon realizing the presence of guests. Elizabeth could easily see that. Despite her own grief, she felt sorry for the girl. Why would Mr. Wickham paint her as proud when it was obvious she was merely timid?
Elizabeth held her breath and sank below the water. She was determined to think no more of the Darcy family. Instead, she thought of Jane, somewhat alone at home without the comfort of her favorite sister. Oh, how she longed to be with her! Her lungs burned as she continued to hold her breath. Her loneliness felt oppressive. She squeezed her eyes tighter and felt relief; the blackness was soothing, inviting.
Suddenly, she felt herself pulled out of the tub. Gasping for breath, Elizabeth allowed Mrs. Carroll to wrap a warm robe around her.
“Come now, miss,” she said tenderly.
Elizabeth could not hold back any longer in the face of such sympathy, and she fell against the woman in searing sobs. Mrs. Carroll assisted her into bed still wrapped in her robe where she curled up on her side facing away from the kind woman. Mrs. Carroll began to dry her hair.
“You do not have to do that, Mrs. Carroll,” she murmured after several long, silent minutes. She was mortified to have been found so broken and weeping with little dignity in front of the household staff.
“Hush, child. Master says you are to be taken care of; I intend to see you are. Do not worry yourself now.”
“He told you, did he not?” She ought to be upset that Mr. Darcy had not kept her troubles private but then could not find the strength. He was certainly solicitous of her comfort.
“Yes, dear. I am sorry for your loss.” She was quiet for a moment and then added, “It will get better.”
But Elizabeth could not believe the housekeeper’s words. Just as she seemed to come to terms with her grief, she would feel it all over again. It was not as if she was so very close to Lydia. In fact, they had rarely understood each other. But she loved her. And she knew her family was suffering, and she could do nothing to ease it.
She closed her heavy eyes. Mrs. Carroll continued her ministrations, drying her hair with soothing strokes of the cloth. Before she knew it, Elizabeth drifted off into the first sleep since learning of Lydia’s death.
Mrs. Carroll finished with Elizabeth’s hair, stoked the fire and prepared to leave the room. From the doorway, she looked back at the girl. She knew her loss well, for her own dear sister was gone those twenty years. She puzzled at the behavior of her master towards this young miss. He was always a generous, kind master, especially towards those in need. But the happy glint in his eyes when he entered Darcy House with Miss Bennet on his arm had not gone unnoticed. His nervous energy was suspicious, too, in the way he looked for the young lady’s approval of his home. She had also seen his satisfaction at Miss Bennet’s admiration.
Mrs. Carroll smiled knowingly to herself as she exited the room, securing the door quietly behind her. Perhaps, this is not some ordinary visitor, she thought. Motioning to the footman stationed in that wing of the house, she ordered that Miss Bennet not be disturbed and that she was to be called personally if the lady needed anything. With that, she left to check on her other guest.
Chapter 3
When Elizabeth awoke the next morning, she felt much improved. After falling asleep the previous afternoon, she had only woken once to find Penny sitting nearby. Much of the previous evening was a blur, but she did recall that the maid had curtsied quickly and left through the dressing room door. A few minutes later, Mrs. Carroll came to her bedside and, with matronly persuasiveness, requested that she eat. Although she had little appetite, she consented to the oddly compelling woman, and a series of servants entered with tray after tray of food.
When the servants left, Elizabeth had exclaimed, “Mrs. Carroll, certainly you do not expect me to consume all of that?”
The housekeeper laughed and shook her head. “I should think not! I simply did not know your preferences.” She paused then continued, “I was not sure whether Master Darcy would know them either.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed unconsciously. “I do not believe Mr. Darcy would notice my preferences.”
“Ah, well then, shall I help you dress?” So this is how it stands then! I wonder what Miss Bennet would think if she knew that the majority of these dishes were chosen specifically for her by the master. “Here you are, miss; now I must have you eat something.”
Elizabeth smiled genuinely, eyeing the generous spread. “You have done well ma’am! Nearly everything here is a favorite of mine.”
“Yes, well, how lucky for me,” she returned with a wry smile.
Elizabeth had not been hungry before, but seeing all the delightful foods, her appetite returned; having gone a long day without anything more than tea, she was grateful for this bounty. Afterwards, she was very nearly forced back to bed by Mrs. Carroll. In the darkened room, with a full stomach and a heavy heart, Elizabeth soon fell easily back to sleep.
She woke the next day, stretched her limbs and smiled to herself at the thought of Mr. Darcy’s housekeeper. The image of Mrs. Carroll managing him in the same motherly way as she had Elizabeth was almost comical. When she returned from the necessity closet, Mrs. Carroll was there fluffing her pillows. Elizabeth chuckled then stopped herself. She was surprised at the lightness she felt compared to the day before. A full night of rest did her body and soul much good — as did the insistent machinations of the lady before her.
“I could get used to this kind of treatment, Mrs. Carroll,” she warned with mock gravity.
The woman turned and looked at the young woman. She looked rested — not quite happy but less sad. Satisfied with her progress, Mrs. Carroll said, “It is a pleasure, Miss Bennet. Shall you dress today?”
As Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, Penny quietly entered with a breakfast tray, curtsied and left just as swiftly. Elizabeth nodded to the housekeeper and teased, “I shall be useless when I return home, Mrs. Carroll.” She walked over to the tray and lifted up the lid of one of the dishes.
The warm rolls and eggs smelled heavenly, and she breathed deeply before sitting down. She watched Mrs. Carroll pour her some tea and accepted it gratefully. Elizabeth was wary of venturing from her room as she knew not how to look at Mr. Darcy after all he had done. Her determined dislike of the man was taking a decided step in the opposite direction.
As she picked up a sweet roll, she tried to steady her voice. “And has the rest of the household risen?”
Mrs. Carroll spoke over her shoulder as she set Elizabeth’s toilette items in an orderly fashion on the dressing table. “Mr. and Miss Darcy are at Sunday services, and Miss Lucas keeps to her bed.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth looked towards the windows as Mrs. Carroll pulled the drapes open to reveal the sun was already quite high in the sky. “I had not realized it was so late.”
“Phooey!” The housekeeper waved her hand dismissively. “What would you like today?”
Elizabeth decided that a book might be a welcome distraction. Although still deeply grieved, she needed to be strong for her family the next day. It was time that she composed herself. Therefore, she finished her breakfast and dressed with the help of Mrs. Carroll; then she was left with Penny to pin up her hair.
“Penny can direct you to the library when you are ready.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carroll — for everything.”
Mrs. Carroll patted Elizabeth’s hand and smiled before she exited the bed
chamber. When Elizabeth’s hair was finished, she had Penny take her to Miss Lucas. Before entering to see Maria, Elizabeth asked, “Penny, after I check on Miss Lucas, where might I find the library?”
“’Tis simple; it is to the left off the main hall, miss.”
The young girl curtseyed and bobbed her head before leaving Elizabeth at Maria’s door. Elizabeth visited with Maria for a solemn hour as they reminisced about Lydia. It was difficult but good practice for condoling with her own family as she could see her young friend needed to talk. Elizabeth knew those at Longbourn might be in need of a listener. She could do that.
Upon reaching the main hall, Elizabeth looked around her and thought briefly on their reception the day before. The house was quiet except for the occasional housemaid. Elizabeth admired the elegant home as she ran her hand along the ornate cherrywood baluster. When she looked up, she saw the butler, Mr. Carroll.
“Can I be of service to you, Miss Bennet?”
“No, I thank you. I was just on my way to the library.”
“Very good, miss. It is just around the corner there, first door on the left.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth hurried around the corner, feeling conspicuous and not a little grateful that the master of the house was attending services. She was thankful not to worry about encountering him.
As she walked down the hall, she admired the handsome décor of Darcy House. Never had she seen such refinement. It was neither garish nor ostentatious as Rosings had been. The richness of the wood paneling was warm, and the furniture, though suited to the fortune of their proprietor, seemed to have real purpose rather than simply to draw attention to an awkward taste. Having her attention thus occupied, she missed the first door, the door she sought. Upon reaching the second door, and believing it the library, she opened it gingerly and looked inside.
She smiled widely at the richly appointed room and the long wall of bookcases filled with immaculately tended books. At one end of the room was a large mahogany desk with a couple of plush leather chairs. Opposite were large windows that overlooked the square. Elizabeth took a moment to admire the view and to breathe in the warm leather smell of books. What a beautiful library. She walked along the wall of books and ran her fingers across their bindings.
Wordsworth, Donne, Shakespeare — all my favorites. She smiled at the variety in the collection. There were many titles she had enjoyed and a few others that now caught her interest. She reluctantly acknowledged that the collection spoke to the excellent taste of their owner. After choosing a book, she walked towards the large desk. She laughed to herself at Mr. Darcy’s choice of that particular piece of furniture. Mr. Darcy and his love of order. Ha! Of course, he would have a desk in his library. She walked to the large, leather chair and felt its softness.
With contentment she had not felt for days, she sank slowly into the chair. It had a lovely lemon and sandalwood smell mixed with the scent of the leather. As she tucked her legs under her dress, she was reminded of her favorite chair in her father’s library. That thought comforted her as she settled in to read her book. Before she knew it, however, the soothing scents of the chair, combined with its warm embrace, lulled Elizabeth into a pleasant sleep.
* * *
Upon returning from Sunday services, Mr. Darcy leaned towards Georgiana and gave her a parting kiss on her cheek, whereupon she skipped up to the music room. Darcy turned to his butler. “Mr. Carroll, might you know how our guests fare this morning?”
Mr. Carroll nodded his head and gestured up the stairs. “Miss Lucas, I believe, still keeps to her chambers.” He noticed Mr. Darcy was keen to hear his next words. “And Miss Bennet is in the library, sir.”
“I am glad to hear it. Thank you. I shall be in my study if I am needed.”
Upon reaching the library door, Mr. Darcy considered whether to greet Elizabeth. He wanted to — oh, how he wanted to! — but he was not certain whether he should intrude upon her solitude. He remembered how she had kept to her room the evening before and was still abed when he inquired after her that morning. He stood for a moment with his hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, he sighed and dropped his hand. As much as he yearned to be near her, he thought it best to wait for her to find him — if she ever did.
With a low murmur, he continued to his study, all the while tugging restlessly at his cravat. He had managed to conquer it just as he reached his study door. He opened the door, pulling at his collar buttons and shrugging out of his tailcoat. He tossed the garments onto a nearby sofa as he passed it. Groaning and rubbing his face, he walked to the window overlooking the square.
It was wonderful to have Elizabeth in his home. She was so near and yet not near enough. He had barely a wink of sleep for the thought of her being so close. He wished again that he had managed somehow to come to an understanding with her before the news of her sister. Whenever he saw her tears or heard a report from Mrs. Carroll, his chest clenched, and he struggled not to go to her room immediately. His mind drifted to their embrace in the Hunsford parlor. He was sure she had been too overwhelmed to care about propriety, but it was a stolen pleasure he would not soon forget.
Elizabeth awoke with a start and froze upon seeing Mr. Darcy walk into the library. She realized soon enough, as she felt herself flush, that he did not know she was there. Why else would he undress so casually? She was paralyzed watching the muscles of his arms move under the thin lawn of his shirtsleeves as he ran his hands through his hair. Her eyes flitted to his discarded cravat and tailcoat only to be lured, dragged really, back to his form. She swallowed hard and attempted to recover her composure as she stood.
“I can do this!” he vowed aloud.
“What can you do, Mr. Darcy?” She smiled coyly, pleased with her ability to keep her voice level.
Mr. Darcy spun around on his heels with a shocked expression on his face. In the short moment it took for him to come to his senses and speak to her, she noticed two things: first, his eyes were blinking rapidly as he gazed over the entire length of her form standing behind the desk; and second, she could see his neck. Both observations wreaked havoc on her senses. She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to distract herself and to feign a calm she did not feel.
“Miss Bennet!”
As a slow smile spread across his face, she was struck again by his fine features. He stepped forward and bowed. “Good morning! I trust you are well . . . that is you look well . . . Are you well this morning?” he stammered.
Elizabeth bit her cheek as she lowered her head for her curtsey. “I am much improved today; I thank you.”
They stood there in a pool of awkward silence, glancing about at anything but each other. This is like the dance at Netherfield all over again, Elizabeth thought. She was wild for a neutral topic to introduce, anything that would ease her rapidly beating heart — anything that might allow her traitorous eyes to study his face, indeed, and his bare neck with equanimity. But her wits failed her miserably.
She would have been surprised to know Mr. Darcy was struggling as well — struggling not to smile like a buffoon at the pretty picture she presented standing serenely behind his desk, in his study! What is she doing here? Pull yourself together man. You look like a bloody fool — a mute fool.
“Please” — gesturing to the chair — “will you not be seated, Miss Bennet?”
She nodded and began to resume her seat when she shot up. “Oh, this must be your seat, sir.”
He forestalled her movement by holding out his hand. “No, please. Indeed you are charmingly placed.” His lips twitched as he motioned to one of the seats in front of his desk. “Do you mind if I join you, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat as she stiffly resumed her seat. She felt as if she were now sitting on his lap, realizing that it was his accustomed chair. “Of course, Mr. Darcy, do be seated.”
Darcy took his seat. She was uncommonly affected by his casual attire and ease as he threw one leg over the other and laced hi
s arms across his chest. She tried not to stare. What is wrong with me? She forced a polite smile.
“You have a lovely library here, sir.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips smirked and humor lit his eyes. “Thank you.”
He is laughing at me! Her courage was bolstered, and she raised her chin. “I have looked through your vast collection and must commend your taste.” She swallowed again as she saw the edge of his mouth turn up. Hateful, mocking man! What amuses him so?
“Indeed! Well, I am glad you approve. These are some of my favorites from my collection.”
Mr. Darcy was using all his powers as a gentleman not to grin at her error and reach across his desk to kiss her soundly for it. She did indeed paint a charming picture sitting in his chair; he knew he would never sit in it again without recalling that moment. It occurred to him that he had never sat on the other side of his desk before! However, he did not mind the change. He found the view rather arresting.
“Your favorites? Are you saying, sir, that you have more books than this?” she asked incredulously, finally distracted from their awkward meeting.
Her eyes roamed the bookshelves in his study. He had never been in her father’s study, though he must assume it did not contain such a collection as this.
“Indeed, I do. Many, many more.” He was tempted to take pity on her and guide her to the real library but decided against it; he was enjoying seeing her at his desk more than he ought and was not ready to end their tête-à-tête.
He studied her as she continued to contemplate his collection. The silence grew deafening, and Elizabeth keenly felt the awkwardness return. She felt his dark eyes upon her in that glaring, disapproving way. Her gaze fell to the desk and noted before her two large tomes in rich, leather bindings. Curiosity colored her features suddenly, and before she knew what she was about, she reached for one. She almost opened it when Mr. Darcy’s voice caused her to pause.
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