Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
A letter arrived from Mr McKinnon the next morning.
As Pemberley’s current steward, he occupied the house that had once been home to the Wickhams. Mr McKinnon’s dog had recently delivered a litter of puppies, and he wondered whether it would please the young ladies of Pemberley to call upon his sister that afternoon so they might see the wriggling pups.
The delight in Georgiana’s eyes outweighed any misgiving writhing in Elizabeth’s stomach, and she felt obliged to accept the invitation.
“Shall I accompany you?” asked the colonel of Elizabeth.
Blushing, she recalled the last time they had been at the cottage together.
“I should like that,” she replied, glad for his steadying presence.
At the other side of the table, Mr Darcy appeared to bristle, and she wondered whether he felt excluded from the conversation. “Would you like to come too, sir?”
At Mr Darcy’s elbow, Georgiana brightened. “Please do join us.”
Mr Darcy’s gaze flickered between Elizabeth and the colonel. He gave a tight smile. “Regretfully, I must decline. I have a meeting with one of our tenants that requires my attention this morning.”
Georgiana’s shoulders sagged. “Are you sure your business could not wait until later?”
Mr Darcy tapped her lightly on the nose. “Farmers keep early hours and are busy men. I shall accompany you another time.”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched as Georgiana swallowed hard. Does Mr Darcy not see how desperately his sister desires his company?
Colonel Fitzwilliam reached over and playfully poked his young cousin in the ribs. “Save your sighs, dear girl. You will have me, and as you know, I am far more fun than Darcy.”
The path to the cottage was little changed.
Bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat. Nothing can harm you here, she reminded herself.
You have Colonel Fitzwilliam nearby, just as you did before.
Densely leafed branches overhead blocked out the burning sun.
Breathe. A memory of the colonel’s youthful voice echoed in her ear.
‘You must breathe and all will be well.’ Tears sprung forth as she remembered his reassuring whispers.
Blinking rapidly, she sought to hide her turmoil—pushing it deep into her body just as she had for these past five years.
Breathe and all will be well, she told herself.
Around the corner, the thicket parted and the cottage came into view.
Her breath caught. The colonel and Georgiana were just ahead, talking and laughing.
Desperate for air, Elizabeth pretended to stop and relace her boot.
Bending down, she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing out the nauseating waves of memories that came colliding all at once through her body: strong hands gripping her arms, masculine heat on her lips, and echoes of her mother’s voice ringing through her ears.
‘Why did you return? Why did you not stay where you were? You are nothing but a nuisance, sent to test my patience.’
All the pain she had kept bottled away rose to the surface, and her chest tightened.
Gasping, she stood too quickly. Blood pounded to her legs; air rushed from her lungs.
There was a scream. Her vision blackened, and through the darkness she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam rush towards her, just as he had all those years ago.
Elizabeth awoke to see her aunt watching over her anxiously. They were in the drawing room, and she was on a sofa, a light quilt wrapped over her body. Tentatively, she pushed herself up. “What happened?” she murmured. “How did I get here?”
“You fainted.” Lady Acaster regarded Elizabeth; her face was drawn and pale. “Colonel Fitzwilliam carried you to the house.”
Mortification flooded Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Where is he now? I must thank him. I-I hope Georgiana was not unduly distressed.”
“She has taken to her bed. It is my understanding she cannot bear to witness the suffering of others.”
Still reeling from her aunt’s disclosure of the colonel’s rescue, Elizabeth could only nod. “How long have I been here?”
“About ten minutes or so. I came as soon as I heard. You gave me quite the fright.”
Elizabeth reached out and clasped her aunt’s hand. “I am sorry if I scared you. I feel much better now.”
A hurried knock rattled at the door. Lady Acaster rose to answer it. A deep, masculine voice rumbled on the other side. Elizabeth hurriedly tucked a loose curl behind her ear in an attempt to regain some control over her appearance.
Lady Acaster reappeared at her side, her lips twisted into a grim smile. “It is Mr Darcy. He has only just returned from his ride and has been informed of your accident. He wishes to know whether there is anything he might procure for your comfort.”
“No, I am well.” She pushed away the quilt and attempted to stand, but she moved too quickly and the room spun violently.
Lady Acaster caught her before she fell again. “You are to rest, Elizabeth. I should not want you to be ill.”
Behind her aunt came Mr Darcy, who, by his stiff, awkward posture, was uncomfortably caught between a desire to help and not wishing to intrude. Gallantry won the day, and he came to her other side, helping her down onto the sofa before bending to retrieve the quilt.
“Do you need a physician?” he said gently, stepping back to study her face. “Dr Edwards has been an enormous support to Georgiana. I can send for him.”
“No.” Elizabeth smiled weakly, picturing the cottage. “I-I do believe it was walking about in the heat that caused me to faint. I shall be more careful in the future.”
Mr Darcy moved away from Elizabeth and to the corner of the room, bending low to open a wooden chest. “Was my sister with you?”
“Yes, though my aunt says she is resting now.”
Rummaging through the contents, he seemed distracted. “This does not surprise me. Ever since my father’s death, she has been troubled by the sight of illness or distress.”
“I am sorry to have upset her.”
“You are not to blame.” He straightened, a woollen blanket in his clasp.
Fisting it into a round shape, he approached her.
Before she had a chance to protest, he carefully tucked the bundle behind her head.
“Stay seated but upright. Whenever Georgiana has fainted in the past, I believe that it is the change in elevation that provokes dizziness.”
His tender manner took Elizabeth’s breath away. “Thank you,” she whispered before adding, “Where is the colonel? I must thank him also.”
A shadow crossed Mr Darcy’s face. “After leaving you with Lady Acaster, I believe he rode out looking to find me, but I returned before he did. I am sure he will be at your side soon, Miss Bennet. Rest here, and I shall send him to you.”
Both he and Lady Acaster were regarding her anxiously.
An unexpected lump formed in Elizabeth’s throat.
It was a strange feeling, being cared for, and she was not accustomed to it.
“I shall be well,” she tried to reassure them.
“Do not force me to sit down and do nothing all day, for I shall run mad.”
Lady Acaster waved a jewelled hand. “Nonsense! You will keep still, and it will soothe my nerves to know that I have insisted you rest. I would not be able to look your father in the eye should any harm come to you when you are in my care.”
Elizabeth fought the impulse to observe that she did not think either of her parents would be excessively troubled by what had happened.
“I could request a writing desk to be sent up, should you be in need of a distraction,” offered Mr Darcy. He glanced at Lady Acaster. “I shall ask Mrs Reynolds to bring some tea and cake if you wish to remain at your niece’s side.”
Thinking of all the letters she wished to send to her sisters, Elizabeth gratefully acquiesced, and he departed to complete his errand.
Lady Acaster waited for the door to close before turning to Elizabeth. “Do you know, Mr Darcy is not the tyrant you made him out to be.”
Elizabeth laughed weakly. “You only like him because he offered you food.”
Her aunt squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Promise that you will tell me if you feel unwell. There are to be no secrets between us.”
Guilt clawed in Elizabeth’s chest. “I do not plan to be ill again.”
Some moments later, a servant arrived bringing a small writing desk and a plate of scones.
Already feeling much better and more than a little embarrassed by the upset she had caused, Elizabeth settled down to her task.
She was approximately twenty minutes into her correspondence to Jane when there was another knock on the door.
This time, Colonel Fitzwilliam was announced.
“Miss Bennet, forgive my delay.” The colonel bowed low, cheeks flushed. “I have just spent the past fifteen minutes receiving a lecture in my cousin’s study.”
“Whatever for?”
“Apparently, I should be more mindful as to the delicate constitution of females.”
He said this with a mischievous lightness that caused Elizabeth to giggle. “I shall defend you robustly to Mr Darcy. This was all my own fault, and I am happy to tell him so to his face.”
He chuckled. “I am grateful for your support, but I informed him myself, so you need not trouble yourself on my account.” He helped himself to a scone. “Though if you desire to be carried home, you should warn me in advance so I can wear a stronger pair of boots.”
Both Elizabeth and her aunt burst out laughing.
Once Lady Acaster had finished wiping her eyes, she stood and announced that she was still hungry.
“My plate has been plundered by a most ungallant soldier,” she observed with a meaningful smile.
“I must seek out Mrs Reynolds, but I shall leave the door open.”
As soon as Lady Acaster departed, Colonel Fitzwilliam drew up the chair next to Elizabeth.
“Forgive my teasing, Miss Bennet, for I only wished to reassure you that there is nothing for you to be embarrassed about.” He lowered his voice.
“And I would do it all again without hesitation if it meant that I had you in my arms.”
His words, delivered with such passion, took Elizabeth by surprise.
She had never been spoken to so intimately by a man, and she had no idea how to respond.
Looking deeply into her eyes, Colonel Fitzwilliam took her hand in his.
In faltering tones, he said, “My brother is grievously ill, Miss Bennet. My father, estranged as we are, wishes me to return to Callan’s bedside.
For weeks now, I have delayed the journey, but I must return home—if I can call it that—eventually.
However, I hope that when circumstances allow, I shall be able to call upon you and your aunt in London—and perhaps, one day, your father? ”
Blood rushed in Elizabeth’s ears. It was not precisely a proposal, but his words hinted at a time when there could be one. Unsure how to answer, she said falteringly, “Your duty to your family does you credit. It is only right that you should be with them during these dark times.”
The unspoken question of his request to meet her father lay between them. Standing on the cusp of a momentous decision, Elizabeth hesitated before swallowing away her nerves and answering shyly, “My aunt is so fond of your company, I am sure she would be delighted to host you in London.”
“It would be an honour.” And then, as easily as he had slipped into the conversation regarding the rest of their lives, he changed the topic, leaving Elizabeth wondering whether she had imagined it all.