by Maria Grace
She brushed raindrops from her eyes. What could excuse the conversation she just had with Lady Matlock? Madness perhaps, but short of that, nothing.
No doubt, the lady herself would prefer never to see her again. Small loss that would be. But surely her display must have cost Darcy’s good opinion of her.
That loss …
She increased her pace, going nowhere in particular. At least she would get there quickly.
Still, she had to go back to Pemberley at some time. Then what? How would she explain her unseemly display? How would she apologize?
A large puddle opened before her. She dodged it. Her feet slipped from under her and she fell backwards. The ground sloped and she tumbled down a squat embankment and landed in a small stream.
Her head spun, and pain assaulted her from multiple angles. Cold penetrated her limbs.
Water.
She was in the water. That could kill her sooner than anything else. On elbows and knees, she crawled out of the frigid stream.
A low branch hung over her head. She grabbed it and tried to drag herself to her feet, but a searing pain in her ankle drove her to her knees.
She cried out, but no one could hear. No one knew her whereabouts or even that she had gone.
A sharp breeze cut through the trees, chilling the sopping fabric clinging to her legs. The temperatures would drop quickly once the sun went down, not long from now. Somehow, she had to get back to Pemberley before dark.
∞∞∞
Darcy paced across the front of the study’s fireplace, dodging Fitzwilliam, the one thing in the room not in its proper place, as he went.
“Sir, I do not know where she has gone.” Mrs. Reynolds wrung her hands. “She left with her work basket, through the kitchen, but made no mention of where she would be calling.”
Mrs. Reynolds had never looked so small or so old.
Georgiana pushed her way into the study. “Is it true, brother? Elizabeth is missing?”
“We do not know,” Fitzwilliam said.
Darcy took a deep breath. “She left without a servant to accompany her, and none knows where she went.”
“But how could she do that? You are so adamant that neither of us is to go out alone. Are you very angry with her?”
“This is not helpful, Georgiana.” Fitzwilliam’s tone dropped to something low and severe.
“You do not need to be harsh with me. It is not as though I have done something very bad. Surely she will be back soon, will she not? Are you not worrying for nothing?”
Sometimes it was clear, Georgiana was still a child.
“I will look for her.” Darcy strode toward the door.
“No you will not. That is utter foolishness.” Aunt Matlock shouldered her way inside. “The girl stormed off in a huff over the preparations for a ball. Leave her to her own devices. If something happens to her, then it is entirely her own fault. She will learn better sense.”
“Mother! How can you say—”
“It is complete nonsense the way she is carrying on. I do not see how you permit it, Darcy. Truly I do not.” Aunt waved her hand as though to dismiss him.
Darcy towered over her. “I did not invite you into my study. I would thank you to get out. Now.”
“You will not speak to me that way, nephew.”
“This is my house, and I will speak to you as I wish. You may choose to be a respectful guest in my home, or you may choose to keep to your rooms, or you may choose to leave. At this moment, I care not which. I am going to look for my wife.” He pushed his way through the doorway, calling for his great coat and horse.
A chill, sharp wind whipped up dirt and leaves on the path from the house. He met the grooms halfway to the stable and mounted.
What direction would she have gone? There was no telling. One was as good as the next.
A west wind pelted his face with stinging drizzle. Someone had said something about sickness in the western cottages. Perhaps she called there. He turned his horse into the wind and trotted off.
Few were on the roads, but every soul he encountered, he asked the same thing. None had seen her. The cottagers and the two farmers on the west-most farms promised to keep watch for her but had no other news to soothe his angst.
The people of Pemberley already seemed to know her. And they loved her, as they had loved his mother. How many remarked she knew them by name and remembered their needs.
Darcy swallowed hard. After they began calling on the tenants, she wrote notes on their visits and studied them every night. It was no accident that she was familiar with those who lived on Pemberley, but the product of intentional and effortful study.
What more could he ask from the mistress of his estate? She had discerned what was most important to him and made that dear to herself as well. A partner in the fullest sense of the word.
What would he do without her?
His hands went numb and his head swam.
No, no! That thought was not at all helpful. It would paralyze him, and for Elizabeth’s sake, that would not do.
He turned his horse toward the manor, cold, wet and alone.
Entirely and completely alone. More alone than he had ever been before he met Elizabeth.
Fitzwilliam’s words rubbed raw places in his soul as he rode. Fitzwilliam was right. He had run roughshod over Elizabeth’s authority and place in his home.
What must she believe of him? That he was a boorish brute?
That was not wholly untrue.
Worse, she must be certain he had no faith in in her, that everything he told her was a lie.
How he hated deception. Could she believe it of him?
Given the circumstances, she certainly had reason to. That could not continue.
Pray let her be safe and warm at the house when he arrived.
Mrs. Reynolds met him at the door with the news he least wanted. Elizabeth had not returned. Sundown was approaching and with it, the likelihood of tragedy.
He called for Fitzwilliam. “Gather all the men. We must form a party to search for her.”
Fitzwilliam’s bearing changed. Gone was his reckless cousin and in his place stood one of His Majesty’s finest.
He stroked his chin. “She was on foot; she could not have gone very far. She is probably escaping from the weather in a cottager’s house, or at one of the farms. You only searched to the west, did you not? There are many other places she could take refuge.” He grasped Darcy’s wrist. “She is well, I am sure.”
Sampson burst into the study. “Sir, a group of carolers approaches.”
“Carolers?” Darcy cursed under his breath. “Send them away. I do not need the distraction.
Sampson turned on his heel.
Fitzwilliam reached for the butler’s shoulder. “Wait, wait, no, bring them in. Perhaps one of them knows where—”
“Yes, that is an excellent idea,” Darcy said.
“Mr. Darcy!”
That was Mrs. Reynolds’ shriek from the vestibule. She never raised her voice!
He pelted from his study, Fitzwilliam on his heels.
A group of men and a few women, ten perhaps, shuffled in the front hall.
“Here, sir!” Mrs. Reynolds waved at him.
Steadman and his eldest son carried Elizabeth between them.
“We found her, sir, on the way caroling, fallen near the stream, barely conscious.” Mrs. Steadman plucked at the edges of her shawl.
He took Elizabeth from them, her skin cold and clammy to the touch. Her gown clung wetly to her legs, soaked through with mud. She moaned in his arms.
She lived!
“Upstairs! Blankets and hot water, immediately!” He clutched her to him, willing his warmth to cut through her chill.
“I will see the carolers to the kitchen, sir. Mrs. Darcy set aside provisions in case they came.” Mrs. Reynolds marshalled her forces into action, and maids scurried about.
Darcy trundled toward the stairs.
“You must get her warm an
d dry, quickly. She has been out in the cold far too long.” Fitzwilliam ran beside him and opened their chamber door.
Her maid stood ready, towels in hand. She tried to shoo him way as she undressed Elizabeth, but he remained rooted in place, helping as he could. He had been turned away too many times recently. This time, he would not capitulate.
Elizabeth began to shiver, her teeth chattering so hard she could not speak. He wrapped her in another blanket and then in his arms and they sat on the rug before the fire.
The maid pressed a cup of hot tea into her shaking hands. Darcy steadied them and held the cup to her lips.
“Drink it, it will help warm you.”
Surely she did not need to be told such a thing. But he had to say something.
At last the shivering stopped, and she breathed normally again. He tucked her head under his chin and held her.
Mrs. Reynolds peeked in. “The carolers, sir. They are asking after the mistress. Would you be willing to—”
“There is no need.”
Elizabeth stirred. “Yes, pray go to them. They … they need to … to know what they did … that it means something.”
She pulled away from him, as though trying to stand.
“You cannot go. You cannot even stand now. The surgeon must be called for your ankle.”
“They cannot think you do not appreciate …”
The blanket fell from her shoulders.
Mrs. Reynolds rushed to replace it. “Pray, sir. It would ease the mistress’s mind.”
“Allow me to help you to bed, and then I will go.”
“Thank you.”
He carried her to their bed and gently set her down. His arms ached with the loss of her warmth. It had been far too long since he had held her.
They could not go back to their previous separation.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We must talk when I return.”
“I will stay with her, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds tucked the counterpane over her shoulders.
He dragged himself to the doorway. She would not speak with him if he did not see to the carolers first, and they must speak.
They waited for him at the base of the grand stair. He stopped several steps above them. So many worried faces looked up at him.
“The mistress is improving. The surgeon will be called for, but we expect her to fully recover. I cannot express our gratitude for your help.”
Smiles and polite cheers broke out among the group. Mr. Steadman, at the front center of the group, turned to the rest and nodded. They stilled a moment and then sang.
Joy to the World was a fitting hymn and We Wish you a Merry Christmas was an excellent sentiment.
Bless Sampson for escorting them out before they could begin another.
That done, he would send for the surgeon, and he and Elizabeth would talk. Then all would return to as it should be.
Darcy straightened his coat and strode back to his chamber.
Mrs. Reynolds met him at the door way. “She is sleeping, sir. I think it best not to wake her.”
“See the surgeon is here first thing in the morning. You may inform our guests, should they ask, I am retiring for the evening.”
“Yes, sir.” She curtsied and left.
He closed the door and entered through the dressing room. His valet met him there and assisted his nightly ablutions. Was the man particularly slow this night, or did they always take so long?
The door between the dressing room and his chamber whispered creaks as he opened it. Even the door knew not to disturb her.
He stepped in, stopping just three steps inside. Her soft breaths filled the room. In the dim glow of the moonlight, he could just make out her form under heaps of blankets.
He held back the cry lodged in his throat. Thank Providence she was there.
Careful not to disturb her warmth, he slipped in beside her. Should he move closer, or would that wake her? Would she pull away from him once again?
He slid nearer drawn, a moth to a flame. How could she be so close and not in his arms?
She murmured and stirred.
He held his breath and lay perfectly still. Pray, let her not pull away.
She inched a little closer. He tucked his arm under her head. She nestled into his shoulder and sighed a contented little sound like she used to every night.
Now things were right once again.
Chapter 5
His valet stood beside the bed and cleared his throat.
Darcy groaned and rubbed his eyes, a bright sunbeam directly on his face. When had it become daylight?
“Sir, the surgeon is come.”
“Help me dress.” Darcy rolled from under the covers, watchful to tuck them back around her.
“What …” She rolled toward him, groaning.
“The surgeon will see you shortly. Do not get up.” He patted her shoulder, or at least what he thought might be her shoulder under the heavy counterpane.
A quarter hour later, Mrs. Reynolds showed the surgeon in.
Darcy briefly described what had happened and what had been done.
“I am here, you know. It is possible for me to answer questions as well.” Elizabeth pulled herself up on a pile of pillows and peeked at them.
How worn her expression. Her skin was dull, even a bit ashen, matching her voice.
Heavens, let there be nothing seriously wrong.
The surgeon shuffled to her side and began his examination. He walked like a crow, picking up his feet a might too high and stretching out each step in a very purposeful way. His elbows, knees and chin were sharp and pointed as a lancet’s blade. She shivered as he removed the blankets and cried out when he touched her ankle.
“Is it broken?” she whispered, clutching the sheets to her.
He poked and prodded and stared and muttered. “I do not believe so. You are quite fortunate. It would not have been surprising if it had been. Still, I fear the cold may have settled on you. We must watch careful for any sign of a fever or cough.”
“I … I feel fine, save for the ankle.”
“You may believe you do, madam, but it would not be wise to take any chances with your health. I recommend you keep to your bed and not walk at all for at least a week. I will instruct your maid as to the poultices and wraps she must use on your ankle.”
“Might I use walking sticks? I cannot imagine—”
“Not for at least a se’nnight complete, madam, perhaps more. We must ascertain the extent of the injury. Then, we can determine what means are safe for you.”
She fell back into the pillows, groaning.
“Pray, do not disobey my orders. It is far too easy to exacerbate the injury and cause more damage in the process. If you do, it could be months before you are able to walk comfortably, even years.”
“Months?” She gasped.
“I have seen cases that never healed properly. If you do not wish to be one of those cases, follow my orders precisely. I will also leave you a preparation of laudanum for the pain which will increase over the course of the next day or so.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
The surgeon beckoned Darcy to the dressing room and shut the door between the rooms.
“She is fortunate to have been found when she was. The cold and damp might have killed her otherwise. She will be weak for some time. Keep her warm and calm at all costs. Upsetting her could result in a dangerous brain fever.”
“I understand.”
“Make sure your staff understands as well. And your guests. I have seen situations where guests cause sufficient agitation to impair a lady’s health. To be sure, I know nothing of your situation. I am not speaking in particulars, only in generalities.”
Of course he was.
“I will instruct my staff” … and his relatives … “accordingly.”
“Very good sir. I will provide your housekeeper and Mrs. Darcy’s maid with instructions and a tincture for Mrs. Darcy. Unless you call for me, I shall return in two days
’ time to check her progress.”
Darcy called for Mrs. Reynolds. She saw the surgeon out, and he returned to Elizabeth.
She sat up in bed, a pretty shawl over her shoulders. But her face was pale and lines creased beside her eyes.
“The surgeon will call the day after tomorrow.”
“I understand.” Her voice was a whisper, a shadow of its usual brightness.
He perched on the bed beside her and searched for her hand under the blankets. “He said you must be kept warm and—”
“And not agitated. I heard.”
“I shall speak—”
“There is no need, I am well.”
“I hardly think that the case.” He squeezed her hand, so cold and small in his. “Why did you run off yesterday?”
She closed her eyes and turned aside. “I was foolish.”
“Elizabeth, I have never considered you a fool. What happened?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself about. It was entirely my fault. I will keep myself under better regulation in the future.”
“My aunt is a difficult person.”
Ah, that earned a direct gaze.
His heart beat a little faster.
“I have always considered her difficult to tolerate. My mother was also apt to clash with her. She never saw eye to eye with either Lady Catherine or with Aunt Matlock. Surely she wrote of it somewhere her journals. You must have read that.”
“No, I have seen nothing of the sort among them.”
“I am surprised, given the heat of the discussions I witnessed when they thought I was not looking.”
“I think she preferred to write of pleasing things.”
Darcy laced his fingers in hers. If there were any measure of truth in Fitzwilliam’s warnings, he had best approach this lightly.
“The surgeon said you should not exert yourself and you should not be taxed.”
“I heard.” She shifted on the bed only to wince and reach for her ankle.
“I see wisdom in his suggestion.” He kept his voice very soft. “A ball this year may not be possible.”
