Haunting Mr. Darcy

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  His hand glided along her cheek then, and he paused when he heard Elizabeth gasp. “Stay where you are, my dear,” he warned gently.

  His heart was beating as he paused just above her angelic face. Closing his eyes, he drew a slow breath and lowered to press his lips to hers.

  The warmth and softness of them entranced him, and he at once was devoured by the multitude of sensations coursing through him. As he pressed his lips to hers, slowly the feeling that grew in prominence against all the other exquisite sensations was that of extreme rightness. It was as if he was destined to this end.

  Though the kiss was brief, it was no less powerful to the gentleman, who found himself quite breathless as he lifted his head. He looked down at the lady and was astonished, paralyzed suddenly in shock, as he felt her stir beneath the hand still resting tenderly on her cheek.

  “William!” Elizabeth’s voice drew his attention to her ghostly self. She had turned herself during the kiss, and her hand was resting unbelievingly upon her lips. “I feel something. I . . . Something is happening.”

  Wide-eyed, Darcy watched as her vision wavered before him. Never before had he had any difficulty seeing her, and now she seemed to flicker like the light from his candle. Though he felt a sudden excited triumph flow through him, he also knew panic. He disliked the idea of not knowing to where she was disappearing.

  Again, the cheek resting in his hand stirred, and he was seized with a hope that drove him to bend over her lips again. This time the kiss he gave her held none of the reserve, worry, and doubt he had previously held — none of the nervousness and tingling anxiety that accompanies any gentleman upon his first kiss with the lady he loves. This time he poured forth all the love he felt in his heart and allowed it to manifest skin to skin as he connected his very soul to hers.

  As he pulled away, the Elizabeth lying on the bed stirred. He looked up and beheld no one else in the room. He was half agony, half hope as he looked down again at the face he cradled in his hands.

  Quietly he called her name.

  Laughing tears of profound happiness and relief then rumbled up and out of his chest as he saw her eyes flutter and open to look at him. At that moment, he heard footsteps at the stairs on the other side of the wall and knew his time was now at an end.

  He drank in the luster of her dark brown eyes and smiled lovingly at her. He was speechless at first as they both gazed at each other.

  “Welcome back, Elizabeth.”

  She reached a heavy arm up and took hold of his hand at her cheek. Pulling it off her cheek, with a slight pucker to her brow, she opened her mouth to question him.

  He smiled at her, expectantly, though at that moment his attention was caught by the sound of footsteps nearing the door.

  He turned back quickly to her and said, with warm humor in his voice, “I shall not hide under the bed again, Elizabeth.” His soft laughter filled the space between them.

  Then with a warm squeeze of her hand, he blew out the candle, encompassing the room in darkness once again, and departed silently out the secret door.

  * * *

  Elizabeth closed her eyes as the darkness flooded the room again. Her head pounded terribly, and she felt so very tired. She thought she heard someone open her door and settle into the seat near her bed, though she could not be sure of anything as the thoughts in her mind felt so very difficult to grasp. Almost immediately, she felt herself slip into a deep sleep once again. It was an hour or so later that she stirred again when she heard her chamber door open once more.

  She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and tell the intruder to go away, that she was still so very tired. She heard Jane’s voice as she quietly whispered to another voice she recognized as Hill’s.

  “How is Lizzy this morning, Hill?”

  “Still much the same, I fear,” came the reply.

  Elizabeth struggled then, not understanding their meaning but feeling the most desperate need to alert them to her presence. Fighting with all the last strength she could pull from within, she opened her eyes once again and beheld her sister and Hill at the foot of her bed. She opened her mouth but could only manage a small sound.

  Relief washed through her to see that immediately they turned toward her. She was not sure she had the energy to attempt to garner their attention again. She saw them rush to her side, heard their startled cries and felt Jane’s tears soak her cheek as her sister pressed against her in a warm embrace.

  Again, Elizabeth felt she had to speak, to assure her sister that she was well. She closed her eyes and gained strength further from the warm devotion and love she felt from her sister’s expressions of tenderness.

  “Jane,” she croaked, her voice feeling as if she had sand in her throat and had not spoken in ages.

  “Oh Elizabeth,” Jane cried through her tears. “Thank God, you are returned to us.”

  Elizabeth saw through tired eyes that Hill had left in a hurry, saying she would alert the rest of the house. She felt so confused and unfocused. It took all her strength just to grasp at any one thought. Slowly, she turned to look towards the window. The sun was just rising, and its golden rays were puncturing the clouds. It was a beautiful sight, and as Elizabeth slowly gained more strength, she found her arms and carefully lifted them, though they felt weighed with stones, to return her sister’s embrace.

  Jane’s happiness spilled into her, and she knew more than felt herself to be happy. When Jane sat back again, Elizabeth smiled at her sleepily. Sounds from the hallway then came to Elizabeth’s ears, and she prepared herself for her family. As they each poured in, it was a reunion of sorts never before experienced in the Bennet family. Elizabeth was hard pressed to give sentiment to it all. Part of her knew she felt happy to see her family, and yet part of her felt still asleep. She hardly spoke as everyone around her rushed with their own words of relief and blessing. For many minutes, everyone celebrated, speaking at once, while Elizabeth just listened contentedly. She could not muster much strength to speak anyway.

  Elizabeth felt someone take up her hand and looked to see her father holding it, a warm smile on his lips. “I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth smiled, though her head began again to ache terribly. She squeezed his hand by way of response. Eventually, she was able to convey to Jane, who had not ventured from her side throughout, that she wished to rest. Through some persuasion and much help from Mr. Bennet, Jane was able to collect her family and guide them out.

  When all was quiet again, Jane came to her bedside.

  “How glad I am to see you awake again, Lizzy.”

  “You will have to tell me what has happened? How long was I asleep?”

  Jane then gave her a brief outline of the past eight days and the worry they all felt for her. She told her how the doctor feared but encouraged them all to talk to her anyway. “There is much more to share, Lizzy, but I fear it will have to be for another time. I can see that you need your rest again.”

  “I am not too fatigued to see that gleam in your eye. Come, Jane, tell me what brings such happiness there.”

  “Can I not be happy to see you well?”

  Elizabeth laughed, though her throat was dry, and it ended up in a coughing fit. Jane immediately procured a drink of water for her from the pitcher near the bed. When Elizabeth had cleared her throat she said, “Indeed, and I am glad to be well. I feel so much better than when I first awoke.”

  Jane was quiet for a moment, unsure whether to speak of Bingley yet or to allow Elizabeth to rest. Part of her wanted to share with her sister this news of importance from her life, but she knew also that Elizabeth longed for sleep again.

  “What is it, Jane?”

  Jane looked up at her with a slight smile on her face. “Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield.”

  Elizabeth smiled broadly then. “Truly? That is something indeed. Some very significant things happened while I slumbered, it would seem.”

  “But I shall not speak another word of it un
til you have rested more. I would have you returned to full strength as soon as possible, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth nodded, satisfied as a weariness began to creep up her limbs like a heavy blanket. A thought flitted through her mind then, and she asked sleepily, “And is he alone this time?”

  Jane understood her and answered, “His friend, Mr. Darcy, accompanies him now.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes opened again, and she looked at her sister.

  “Come now, Lizzy. We shall speak of all this later. Sleep. I shall not leave your side.”

  Elizabeth nodded and turned on her side so that she looked toward the dawn pouring through the window. Slowly she lifted her fingertips to brush against her lips, trying to dispel a tingling sensation she felt there.

  Some ways off, on the other side of the window, though too far away to see, stood a gentleman gazing in her direction. The expression on his face could not be read, but if it were to be guessed, it might be considered happiness mixed with a hopeful excitement. He looked about him, expecting to see someone, and when he did not, he smiled, shook his head in wonderment and slowly turned to walk across the field — alone — toward his friend’s home.

  Chapter 18

  Elizabeth pressed her hands to her face, grasping to hold on to the scene behind her eyelids. It was always brief, a flash of a room or a hallway, and then nothing. She viewed these places as if through her own eyes, though they were places she could not recall having visited. The library was her favorite: robed in night, lit only by the warm glow of a fire. The furnishings were inviting, beckoning her to take refuge. Though the room itself was beautiful, it was the feeling it summoned that made her wish the image would stay. When her mind’s eye was in this room, she felt whole, at home, and at peace. Since waking up a few days ago, she had felt the love of her family, the fatigue of her long recovery, and an utter emptiness she could not explain — but oddly not whole, at home, or at peace in any way.

  During the initial days after she came out of what she was told was a lengthy coma, she felt she slept more than she was awake. It had been a couple of days since that time, though Elizabeth felt as if she could not sleep enough, as if she had not slept in a lifetime. Much of her time was spent asleep, but her wakeful hours were occasionally interrupted by those flashes of consciousness, distracting images of the room, the hallway and, most disquieting of all, of the retreating form of a gentleman and the pull she felt toward him. There was never enough time to recognize him, for as soon as she tried to focus on the fuzzy image in her mind, the entire scene would dissipate like a puff of smoke. The harder she tried to grasp these brief images, the quicker they seemed to evaporate into the recesses of her mind.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes, disappointment and resignation settling into her bones at her inability to make sense of the images once again. She looked about her and saw her sister Jane seated next to the bed where she reclined. Jane was looking at her strangely with concern in her eyes. Elizabeth sighed. She was becoming weary of seeing that same look in everyone’s eyes when they saw her, as if she were going to break at any moment. Elizabeth had not spoken of the room, hallway, or gentleman, nor was she likely to. After several days of looking into the concerned, fearful eyes of her family, she was not about to add to their burdens by admitting such a thing.

  “Are you well, Lizzy?” Jane said with careful tones.

  Breathing deeply, Elizabeth answered, “I am well. My head still hurts occasionally. I shall be glad to be rid of this room though.”

  “Every day you gain strength. It is a pleasure to see.”

  Elizabeth attempted a laugh. “Every day I get closer to the end of my enforced incarceration.”

  “Incarceration indeed, Lizzy!” Jane laughed. “You know Mr. Jones said you must stay abed for at least another week because it will help you recover.”

  “Though I will admit to feeling tired, I do not think it necessary that I be confined to my room. I should like to have some fresh air, to walk further than the length of this room — ”

  “Lizzy! You were not to get out of this bed! Do not tell me you have been attempting to walk?”

  Elizabeth felt instantly guilty for her lapse and the distressed look in Jane’s eyes. She pleaded then with her sister. “Jane, I must get my strength back, and that will only happen if I can take a little exercise.”

  Jane stood then and paced the room, her head shaking in disapproval. “Lizzy, you could have fallen and hurt yourself again. Did you not think of that?”

  Though her tone was at first accusatory, it ended with a shaky fear pulsing through it. Elizabeth saw that her sister’s eyes had welled up with tears.

  “Jane,” Elizabeth said softly, her hand extended toward her sister. Jane walked over to the bed again and sat, taking up Elizabeth’s hand. “I am truly sorry to have caused you concern. However, I have been confined to this bed for four days now — ”

  “It has been much longer than that, Lizzy. You were unconscious for more than a se’nnight.”

  “Four days since I awoke, I mean. Four days that I recall. I must move about. I must!”

  Elizabeth met her sister’s eyes and watched as Jane looked deeply into hers. She was searching for something, and though Elizabeth could not tell whether it was to be found in her eyes or was something Jane was mulling over in her own mind, eventually she saw Jane come to a decision.

  With a heavy sigh, she looked at her sister with a stern expression. “All right, Lizzy, but you must promise me that you will not try to walk unless I am here to help you. I cannot think . . . I cannot imagine what might happen should . . . ”

  Jane’s eyes brimmed with tears again, and she pulled Elizabeth into a warm embrace. Elizabeth closed her eyes and returned the embrace. She felt terrible for troubling Jane, but she also knew her recovery would only be delayed by lying about all day.

  When Jane pulled away, Elizabeth asked, “Would you help me now to walk?”

  She nodded, and Elizabeth prepared by sliding her legs to the side of the bed and resting her feet on the cool floor. Jane helped her to stand, and together they made a slow, shaky journey across the room. Elizabeth’s knees gave out but once, for which she felt gladdened. The first time she had tried to walk, she had needed to hold on to the side of the bed the entire way around it before falling exhausted face down on the other side. She peeked over at her sister, who shook her head slightly at the sudden trembling in Elizabeth’s gait. Elizabeth determined then to take advantage of Jane’s offer to help as often as she could each day, no matter how exhausting.

  “Tell me, Jane, did your Mr. Bingley call again today?” Elizabeth said, through a tight jaw. She was attempting to distract herself from the burning muscles in her legs.

  Jane blushed and nodded beside her. “Both the gentlemen from Netherfield came again today.”

  Elizabeth said nothing; she drew in a deep breath and tried to push past the screaming in her legs.

  “They were both very solicitous of news about you, Lizzy — Mr. Darcy particularly.”

  Elizabeth could see the twitch of a smile on her sister’s lips. Once before, Elizabeth and Jane had discussed the gentlemen’s return to the neighborhood. Jane shared with her the feelings she had regarding Mr. Bingley’s return in particular, as well as the way he acted. Elizabeth was happy for Jane, certain that Mr. Bingley was as in love with her sister as ever. Jane also told Elizabeth that she thought Mr. Darcy might have some tender feelings for her. Elizabeth tried diligently not to examine that notion. She was of two minds with regards to Jane’s belief: one felt certain that the idea of Mr. Darcy feeling anything but displeasure toward her was laughable and another, more absurd than the last, that his admiring her felt perfectly natural.

  Elizabeth shook her head, dispelling the debate within and replied flippantly, “I wonder if he is curious to see how tolerable I am after being disfigured in an accident.”

  Jane rolled her eyes in a most unladylike fashion before smiling indulgently at her sister. “D
isfigured, indeed, Lizzy! You hit your head, the bruise from which is all but gone.”

  “’Tis a more likely explanation than the one to which I know you hold fast.”

  “Unjust, Lizzy!”

  Elizabeth stopped and looked at her sister, her legs trembling in relief for the break. “How so?”

  “You give little credit to the good sense of your sister,” Jane teased.

  Appeased and amused, Elizabeth forced herself to continue toward the window; there she would allow herself a true break. “Your good sense is my dearest friend, Jane. However, I wonder to what realm it has gone with respect to that gentleman.”

  The sisters laughed at Elizabeth’s words, and though the younger would have preferred to be done with the topic, the elder continued, her tone now serious. “You may disregard his often having looked at you when he was last in the neighborhood. You may disregard that you were the only lady outside of his own party he asked to dance at the Netherfield ball. But you cannot disregard the look I saw in his eyes — and have seen every time he has come to call and ask after you.”

  Elizabeth was silent. Though she wanted to protest, she could not form the words. She felt certain she was missing something, some valuable piece of information, and though she could not think why or what it could be, missing it was. So many things since waking felt difficult, strange, and new. Her body felt as if she did not know how to use it, as if she had lost power over it for a long time and was having to relearn everything. Her mind created images of places and persons she had never known, and her heart beat rapidly when they flashed through her consciousness. Now, with regards to Mr. Darcy, she felt a rope about her, tethered tightly to some secret, reluctant to accept Jane’s observations and yet unable to absolutely refute them as she would have before the accident.

  Thankfully, they reached the windowsill, and Elizabeth was not forced to make any response. She carefully settled herself on it and rubbed her tired legs. Jane watched her with a frown on her face, concern and pity again in her eyes.