by K C Kahler
“I say, this John Lucas will be a lively addition to the neighbourhood. I am quite looking forward to meeting him, aren’t you, Darcy?”
Mr Darcy seemed a bit less keen on the idea. But Jane remembered his preference for smaller groups.
“I thank you for loaning these books to Elizabeth. With such engrossing reading material, perhaps she will not attempt a foolish trip down the stairs.”
“She would not dare, would she?” asked Mr Bingley, laughing.
“Oh yes, she is that impatient. I almost wish her room lacked windows. When the rain clears and the fair weather returns, I fear I shall need to restrain her.”
The two gentlemen smiled at her, and although she would happily stay and enjoy the sight, she knew poor Lizzy must be bored silly by this point. “Well, sirs, I shall return to my sister and wish you a pleasant night.”
* * *
Elizabeth was ready to throw her needlework across the room. This insufferable confinement dragged on and on! But she heard a knock followed shortly by Jane sticking her head into the room. “I bring you some much-needed entertainment.”
“Oh, bless you. You arrived before I did something drastic.”
“I shudder to think what that might have been.”
“What books did you wheedle out of Mr Bingley for me?”
“None, actually. Mr Bingley is not particularly proud of his library. These came from another source entirely, and I think you will be pleased with them”
“They do not seem to be fashion magazines, so they could not have come from Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst.”
“Lizzy, such accomplished ladies must be well read.”
“Oh yes, I am sure they have started many, many books; I just doubt they have finished them. Well, let me see, will you? Or are you standing just out of reach to torture me?”
Jane handed over the books, wearing what Elizabeth would have called a smug look if it were anyone but Jane. “These should keep you occupied. Mr Darcy is your benefactor, and he chose perfectly for you.”
The top book was Lyrical Ballads, a favourite of Elizabeth’s. Next came a beautiful edition of Shakespeare’s Sonnets and then Much Ado About Nothing. Elizabeth had to smile at the matchmaking and eavesdropping the play contained. This was hardly a subtle choice on Mr Darcy’s part. Finally, there was a well-worn copy of Robinson Crusoe; the classic was an old friend to her.
“He has done remarkably well. These certainly offer more allure than my needlework. Please thank Mr Darcy for me when you see him next.”
Jane got a strange gleam in her eye. “Perhaps you can thank him yourself the next time he sweeps you up into his incomparable arms. You blush beautifully when he does that.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. This would not do at all. The memory of Mr Darcy carrying her discomposed her entirely, but she could not let Jane see that. “Are you quite certain you wish to engage in teasing with me? Look before you leap, dear sister.”
“As I see it, you will tease me mercilessly regardless, so I might as well have a bit of revenge.”
Elizabeth tried her best to look contrite. “You are right; I showed no mercy. But it was the only amusement I had, Jane. I promise to keep my teasing at normal levels from now on.”
Jane regarded her sceptically. “We shall see. For now, I wish to tell you about the conversation at dinner.”
The particular news Jane dwelt upon was Mr Hurst’s revelation that Mr Darcy had been drunk the previous night. Elizabeth remembered something from their first secret meeting—Mr Darcy had talked of a “difficult situation” that occurred over the summer. And Mr Hurst revealed that the only other time he had seen Mr Darcy overindulge to such an extent was this past summer. What could have happened to him then, and why would he imbibe to excess again now? It was indeed a great mystery. But Elizabeth knew he would never share his personal affairs with her. Despite his many efforts on her behalf, her all-too-public troubles were merely a convenient distraction from his private troubles.
Of course Jane knew none of this, and Elizabeth was not eager to disclose her strange alliance with Mr Darcy, even if that alliance might now be at an end. Jane would have endless questions, some reproofs, and possibly even a few teasing comments to make if she knew. No, Elizabeth’s confession would wait for another time.
The borrowed books only curtailed her restlessness until the following afternoon, when she looked longingly towards the window. There would not be many more afternoons like this before winter set in. The sunlight was clear and bright; the few clouds she could see passing by were fluffy and perfectly white. She simply must be out of doors. Surely she could limp to a bench near the house and sit happily with a book.
The staircase presented the biggest obstacle. Perhaps she could coax Becky to help her. The young chambermaid—the daughter of Longbourn’s long-time groomsman, Thomas—was happy to be serving the Bennet sisters after enduring Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Jane and Elizabeth were equally relieved to see a familiar face.
Yes, Becky was Elizabeth’s best way to sunshine. She would be at her most persuasive when the girl came to retrieve her luncheon tray. In the meantime, Elizabeth examined the four volumes before her, trying to decide which one to bring when she made her escape.
“Shall I take your tray, miss?” Becky had finally arrived.
“Becky, how lovely to see you. I hope you might assist me down the stairs. I wish to sit outside and read.”
“Oh no, miss. You aren’t to walk.” Becky glanced towards Elizabeth’s ankle.
Elizabeth stood and walked with a limp. “Just look at that blue sky. I only need your assistance to get down the stairs. The rest I can do myself with little trouble, as you can see.” She gave a dazzling smile.
Becky began to sway. “Miss Jane will be angry with me.”
“Jane is never angry at anyone! You know that. Come now, it is my ankle.”
“Well, let’s see how you do in the hallway before we attempt the stairs.”
Elizabeth beamed at her and grabbed one of the books off the bed. “You are a sensible girl, Becky. If you will carry this book for me, I shall put on my pelisse, and off we shall go.”
The hallway presented no problem. Elizabeth’s ankle was sore but steady, and it actually felt good to walk. She positioned herself at the top of the stairs with her right hand on the railing. She hopped down the first step, then the next, then the next. Becky kept even with her on her left side, one arm outstretched in case Elizabeth needed it. As well as this was going, Elizabeth’s right arm and leg soon began to tire, and she really could not put more weight on the left ankle. She silently cursed the generous proportions of Netherfield’s public rooms. The high ceilings certainly impressed, but the resulting staircase made a formidable foe.
About a third of the way down, Elizabeth knew she must change tactics. “Becky, I think I need a bit more support now. May I put my arm around you?”
“Of course, miss.”
Elizabeth proceeded with the support of the railing and Becky. The thought occurred that she would have to climb back up these stairs eventually, but she put it from her mind. More than halfway down, Elizabeth’s right leg faltered with fatigue.
“I just need a short rest.” She moved to sit on the step.
“Oh miss, I knew this was a bad idea. Now here you sit, on the floor!”
Elizabeth laughed. “It is rather undignified. Let us hope no one else sees my embarrassing predicament.”
She heard a distinctly male throat clearing. Mr Darcy stood at the bottom of the stairs, a smirk adorning his face. Before Elizabeth could react to this mortifying turn of events, she also noticed a very irked Jane standing next to the gentleman, hands on her hips.
“Elizabeth June Bennet, what on earth do you think you are doing?” she scolded, fierce in her protective anger. “I should have known you had some devious plan when you ordered me to go to luncheon. And now all my suspicions are confirmed. How could you drag poor Becky into your foolish schemes?”
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“Jane, do not be angry. Becky and I were simply trying to commit every detail of this fine staircase to memory before Mr Bingley makes changes to it.” Elizabeth knew the surest way to deflate Jane’s anger was to make her laugh. Mr Darcy seemed on the verge of laughter for a moment, but Jane was not quite ready to accede. “Come, Jane,”—she patted the step next to her—“you can observe the grandeur quite well from this position.”
Jane’s mouth twitched before she let out an unladylike sigh of frustration. “Why did you not ask for assistance? If you really must go outside, we could have gotten a servant to carry you. You are stubborn as a mule! No, you are as stubborn as Lydia!”
Elizabeth gasped. “What a horrid thing to say!”
Jane sat on the step next to Elizabeth, shaking her head. “The staircase does show itself to uncommon advantage from here.” The two sisters started giggling like fools while Becky shifted nervously beside them.
Mr Darcy looked on in bemusement. “If you have discovered some grand aspect of Netherfield, perhaps I should call Mr and Miss Bingley to join you on that step. In fact, if Becky will fetch some biscuits, we might even persuade Mr Hurst to join the party.”
Becky laughed, but then slapped a hand over her mouth. At this opportune moment, Mr Bingley joined Mr Darcy at the bottom of the stairs, his face full of confusion. Jane’s mirth ended quickly as she hurried to stand off to the side. Elizabeth could hardly control herself—at least laughter delayed the full realisation of her humiliation.
“Dare I ask what all this could possibly mean?” Mr Bingley said.
“The Miss Bennets were just admiring your staircase.”
This explanation only further confused Mr Bingley, and then he remembered something. “Oh, Darcy, I have been meaning to ask you: why did you tell Mr Collins I plan to renovate the staircase? I had not even considered it. Do you think it needs renovations?”
“I thought you had mentioned not liking the banister. But no, I think this stairway is perfect as is.”
Elizabeth gaped at Mr Darcy. Disguise of every sort is his abhorrence indeed! “It is a little too steep for my tastes,” she said, causing Mr Darcy to finally give way to laughter.
Mr Bingley shrugged off his bewilderment. “It is good to see you, Miss Elizabeth. Did you have any plans for beyond the eleventh step?”
“It is good to be seen, though perhaps not under these circumstances. My intended destination was a garden bench as near to the house as possible.” She turned to Becky and reached up for the book. “Thank you for your assistance. I am sorry to have taken you away from your duties for so long.”
Becky, looking relieved to escape the strange situation, curtseyed and hurried up the stairs.
Mr Darcy began climbing the steps. “I know just the bench for you, Miss Elizabeth. Please allow me to take you there.”
“Oh no! Call a servant as Jane said.” Elizabeth looked frantically towards Jane, who only reacted with an uncharacteristic smirk. Perhaps Elizabeth had taken her teasing a trifle too far. Even Jane had her limits.
As all this crossed Elizabeth’s mind, Mr Darcy arrived at that cursed eleventh step and bent to easily lift her up. “Why bother a servant when I am already here and perfectly capable?”
If being caught sitting on the stairs was embarrassing, being carried by Mr Darcy through the halls and rooms of Netherfield for the third time was absolutely mortifying. Elizabeth blushed of course, and she caught Jane’s amused expression over Mr Darcy’s impressive shoulder. She stared down at the book she still clutched in her hand.
“Which of my books did you think appropriate reading material for your afternoon in the fresh air?” Elizabeth snapped her gaze up to Mr Darcy. This was even more awkward if he insisted on conversing with her—as if she needed to be reminded of their unnerving proximity or his fluid strength. Or the gold flecks in his eyes. Or the pleasing angle of his jaw. Stop that!
“I…I thank you for the loan of your books. They are all excellent choices, but here I have Robinson Crusoe, an old favourite.”
He said nothing in reply to her great relief. After what seemed an eternity, Elizabeth found herself deposited on a bench in a lovely spot in the garden. As she recovered from her embarrassment, Mr Darcy spoke with Jane. Elizabeth realised with dread they were likely arranging for him to transport her back up to her room. Oh dear, this escape plan had been flawed indeed. But she decided to put it out of her mind and enjoy the crisp air and bright sunlight while she could.
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been jealous of anyone in his life. Yet now he was intensely jealous of a man he did not know. Why had he loaned Miss Elizabeth that blasted book? It had seemed a harmless enough choice at the time—but no, of course it would be associated with him. And worse yet, why did she have to prefer it to the other books he had loaned her? Jealousy was just a dreadful feeling. It was also completely ridiculous, considering Darcy had no intention of any future with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Why should her old friend not return home and claim her? The two obviously had much affection for each other. But just thinking about the possibility sent Darcy into either blind rage or profound misery. Or both. He found it difficult to endure company in such a state, so he determined not to think about said possibility.
Another dangerous topic for reflection for entirely different reasons was how perfect she felt in his arms. Darcy could not meditate on that very great pleasure while in company either, lest his imaginings make him unfit to be seen. A safer focus for reverie was her laughter and her smile. In those he found pure delight. And what joy he had experienced this afternoon—at the staircase of all places.
Darcy sighed. He was not making much progress in his letter. Anne would laugh at him when she read it. But at least she could understand falling in love with someone unsuitable. Yes, that much she could certainly understand.
“What do you do there so secretly, Mr Darcy?”
Darcy looked up to behold four female faces plus Bingley awaiting his answer. He really should have chosen someplace more private to write this letter, but he found that he preferred to stay in the sitting room, where a certain young lady had hobbled after spending more than an hour on a garden bench. “It is no secret; I am writing a letter to my cousin.”
“Oh, the viscount or Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Miss Bingley let the Bennet ladies know the extent of her knowledge about Darcy’s family.
“Neither. The recipient of this letter will be Miss de Bourgh.” Darcy enjoyed the brief pinched expression that crossed Miss Bingley’s face. The Miss Bennets merely looked respectfully curious.
Mrs Hurst replied on behalf of her sister. “What comfort correspondence must provide her, confined as she with her poor health.”
“I am happy to report my cousin’s health has improved over the last year.” Darcy suspected this improvement was due to Anne finally seeing a competent physician. Lady Catherine held some rather old-fashioned opinions on health and diet, and thus, had previously chosen a physician who would agree with everything she said. Naturally, such a physician had been no help to Anne.
Miss Bingley reacted to Darcy’s disclosure. “That is excellent news. How wonderful for your family. Tell me, will Miss de Bourgh finally be out in London society? She has such limited experience among the ton. I fear she might be overwhelmed. Louisa and I would be happy to ease her way.”
In truth, Anne had no desire to mix in London society even though she might now be able to do so. But Miss Bingley probably could not grasp such an idea. “A generous offer, but Lady Matlock and Lady Leland will take on that task, if necessary. They have connexions and influence enough to provide anyone a thorough introduction to society. You have never met Lady Matlock or her daughter-in-law, have you?” Darcy knew perfectly well that she had not, despite her best efforts. But his patience where Miss Bingley was concerned had been stretched rather thin lately. If she teased him again about a certain pair of fine eyes, Darcy could not vouch for his behaviour.
“I have not yet had that pl
easure. Perhaps when we all return to London, I shall have the chance.”
“Perhaps.” He readied his pen again, hoping to curtail the conversation.
Mrs Hurst surmised that Darcy was quite finished with the subject, so she raised a new one. “Tell us, Miss Bennet, will your family have the opportunity to travel to London soon?”
“We have no such plans in the immediate future.”
“What a pity. London during Christmastime is not to be missed. The festivities, the culture! Have your relations in London never invited you to partake?”
Miss Elizabeth, who had been observing up until now, answered. “Christmas in London must be festive indeed, but our young cousins delight in spending Christmas in the country with us.”
“Christmas with young children is the best sort of Christmas,” Bingley said. He turned towards Miss Bennet. “How old are your cousins?”
“Thomas is twelve, Michael is ten, Emily is nine, and little Cecilia is six.”
“Good heavens! Wherever do you all sleep when they come to visit? You must be very crowded.” Mrs Hurst seemed genuinely perplexed by the sleeping arrangements, though she could have expressed herself more tactfully.
“The boys have Jane’s room and we girls have a merry time splitting up the remaining three rooms among us. We switch the arrangements around every few nights for a little excitement.” Miss Elizabeth had such adorable mischief in her expression. Darcy could picture her, clad in her nightclothes, giggling and playing with a small girl. A sweeter vision he had never had. He sighed again, perhaps a little too loudly, for all eyes suddenly turned to him.
