Chapter Ten
Jane draped another heavy blanket over Elizabeth’s legs while Kerr filled several bed warmers and stuck them under the sheets on the other side of the room.
“Are you warm enough, dearest?”
Elizabeth sat with her stocking-clad feet stretched out in the direction of the fire and wiggled her toes.
She was finally warming, but the whole ordeal had left her fatigued.
Not that she ought to be the one who was tired, for Mr. Darcy had carried her back to the house. She wondered how he was feeling.
“I am well, though you may suffocate me with all of these blankets,” she teased.
“I cannot understand why you were out walking by yourself when it is so cold, Lizzy,” Jane fussed, mimicking a shudder. “You cannot move me from the fire on a day like today.”
“I did not expect to be out long.” She had felt compelled to visit the path where she had seen Mr. Darcy once before. How prophetic that had been! “The wind was not blowing when I set out. That is why it feels so cold.”
“It does not only feel cold, it is cold. I would not be surprised if it snows tonight.”
“Do you think so?”
“I hope not, for Mr. Darcy’s sake. Charles did not tell me his friend was still here, but he will be here longer still if there is any snow to speak of.”
“Why is Mr. Darcy still here? He mentioned horse trouble, but I thought he was to leave directly from the wedding breakfast.”
“He was. A series of mischances, it seems. His horse fell lame not five miles down the road, and another lost a shoe, and then there was an illness in the house . . .”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Jane was not looking at her as she spoke, only fluffing pillows and replacing them on the settee.
“Jane . . .”
“I will check on your soup. Is the tea still hot?”
“Nearly scalding, yes.” Elizabeth looked at the kettle hanging over the fire and then back at Jane.
She wanted to ask her sister what was happening, why Mr. Darcy had suffered so many delays, but suddenly she did not want to know.
She only wished for Mr. Darcy to be delayed again so that he could ask her what he wished to know.
It will not be that, she warned her fickle heart. He would apologise for something or thank her for something, and in either case, he ought not. It would have nothing to do with calling on her or courting her, or better still, marrying her. It would not.
“I am sorry that you will be required to spend more time in close quarters with Mr. Darcy,” Jane was saying, peeking at Elizabeth as though she was afraid of her sister’s response.
“Jane, I have said time and again that his presence does not bother me.”
“Then you were not embarrassed that he carried you back to the house? For I must say, Lizzy, I am greatly indebted to him for his care of you.”
“You realise, of course, that Mr. Darcy caused the entire accident by coming upon me and crying out my name as he did?” Elizabeth was vastly amused by the whole thing now that her nose and the tips of her ears were thawing.
“Oh, Lizzy, no. He was merely surprised to come upon you. Imagine, you were both in the same house at the same time and never saw one another.” Jane busied herself about the room.
“He was hiding, that is why! Why did he not come to dinner last night?”
“I cannot tell you. Perhaps because Miss Bingley is here.”
“Mr. Darcy has never eschewed Miss Bingley’s company before.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he . . . because I . . .” Elizabeth hesitated. “Well, I suppose I do not know, do I?”
“You were only in their company a very short time, sister.”
More time than Jane had been in her husband’s before she agreed to wed, given the weeks Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had been in Kent together and the additional days at Pemberley. Enough to know . . . she sighed and patted the space next to her.
Jane sat and put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You frightened me today, Elizabeth. Thank heavens it was only a shallow part of the pond.”
“I was never in any danger, Jane. I would only have been a little colder had I needed to find my own way back. And as I said, had Mr. Darcy not been there, I would not have fallen in at all.”
“You cannot blame him when he was so gallant as to rescue you.”
“He did not rescue me. I could stand up on my own and was in no need of a knight.” Elizabeth laughed.
Why did Jane insist on painting her as a poor weak heroine waiting for a man to save her?
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Not that she did not appreciate Mr. Darcy’s assistance.
The safety and comfort of his strong arms—no, she would never forget that.
Moreover, she had been very cold, and his coat had been quite warm.
“Why do they not make greatcoats for women, Jane?” she asked suddenly.
“They are wonderful. I should traipse the entire estate in the dead of winter if I had a coat like Mr. Darcy’s. ”
Jane’s lips twisted slightly in amusement. “If you had a coat like Mr. Darcy’s, you would forever be tripping on the train.”
Elizabeth laughed again, and this time Jane joined her. “He is very tall.”
“And you are very . . . not.”
“Thank you for reminding me.”
“It does not seem to bother Mr. Darcy,” Jane said playfully.
“No, of course not. It makes me easier to carry,” Elizabeth retorted with an exaggerated eye roll.
“But Lizzy,” Jane said gently, placing her hand on Elizabeth’s arm, “I am sure that you could not have been so flippant with Mr. Darcy when he came to your aid.”
“Indeed, I was not. But Jane,” Elizabeth said, patting her sister’s hand, “while Mr. Darcy and I are no longer at odds, you must see that he could never pursue the sister of a man who has done such harm to his own. Even if he did mean to renew his addresses last summer, Lydia’s behaviour has certainly put an end to any wishes he may have had on that score. ”
A little line appeared above the bridge of Jane’s nose. “Did you wish for him to renew his addresses, Lizzy? When you spoke of him upon returning to Longbourn in August, you said that you did not.”
“Jane, I have done something rather stupid.”
“This sounds serious.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. “I am afraid that I have fallen in love with Mr. Darcy.”
Jane gasped. “What?”
“And I believe it is possible that he is still in love with me. But he could never ask for my hand. Not with Mr. Wickham as our brother.”
Jane thought this over. “Charles would be his brother, too. Certainly that would even the scales.”
Could the good outweigh so much bad? Elizabeth shook her head. It was too much to hope for.
“Well,” Jane said, standing up and shaking out her skirts, “if he is not brave enough to ask when your silly sister is wed and far away, then he does not deserve you.”
“He does not,” Elizabeth declared loftily in an attempt to banish the gloom that was gathering. “For who could?” She and Jane smiled at one another, but Elizabeth was soon yawning.
Jane stood to ring the bell.
“Kerr, is the bed warm?” Jane inquired, raising her voice.
The maid removed the bedwarmer. “Yes, ma’am.”
Elizabeth stood to make her way over to the bed, climbing in after Jane peeled the sheet and blanket back. Elizabeth pulled the quilt up to her nose and felt as warm as she had in Mr. Darcy’s greatcoat.
Jane tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. Elizabeth closed her eyes, thanking God for giving her such a wonderful sister and asking forgiveness for her ingratitude. For she would have preferred a different nurse.
“So, your little game has been discovered,” Bingley said with a half-smile, dropping onto the settee in Darcy’s chambers and giving Darcy an elbow in the side. “Jane and Lizzy now both know you are here.”
Darcy groaned. He lifted his feet to the ottoman and held out his feet to the fire.
Scripps had quickly located a pair of thick wool socks and slippers large enough to put over them before he bore Darcy’s hessians away.
Darcy was feeling a good deal warmer and now felt at leisure to contemplate his position.
“It is your own fault, you know,” Bingley scolded him in jest. “You would have had an easier time of it had you not hidden away last night. Now they know you were in seclusion and will wish to know why.”
“Because of Miss Bingley, of course. By the by, why did you not tell me that Elizabeth Bennet was residing here?”
Bingley appeared confused. “I thought you knew. We spoke of my sister . . .”
“We spoke of the sister we have always spoken of. Miss Bingley.”
“No, we specifically spoke of the sister you wanted to avoid. You have never avoided Caroline.”
“What? That is not true.”
Bingley lifted both eyebrows. “When have you ever sought to eschew Caroline’s company, other than last night?
Even after you snapped at her at Pemberley, you did not avoid her before you left.
Lizzy, on the other hand—you did not come in time to attend the family dinner, and you removed yourself from the wedding breakfast rather quickly.
Besides, you are forever arguing with her. ”
Darcy cast his thoughts back. As much as he dreaded Miss Bingley’s company, he had never really avoided her. It was the cost of a friendship with Bingley, and he believed the friendship was worth it.
Bingley’s countenance creased as he thought.
“You spoke of your behaviour last autumn. I reminded you that your behaviour was not her fault any more than my decision to remain in London was yours. I was speaking of the way you insulted Elizabeth at the assembly and again in your conversations with Louisa and Caroline when you said something about the Bennet daughters not marrying well.” He snickered.
“You were wrong there, but I think I may be forgiven for assuming you meant my new sister.”
Darcy dropped his head in his hands. “And Miss Bennet will also wonder why I hid myself away.”
Bingley shrugged, evidently enjoying himself. “Yes, most likely. Although she is an intelligent woman. She may already have worked it out.”
Worse and worse. “This is a disaster.” But no, there was hope. Miss Bennet had agreed to speak with him once she was feeling better. She had been entirely lucid when she said it. And they had shared a friendly, teasing sort of conversation, despite the unusual circumstances.
“One thing I have learned,” Bingley said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring into the fire, “is that the two eldest Bennet sisters are quite forgiving.”
“Beg pardon, Bingley,” Darcy said, returning the earlier jest, “but I believe you are married to the forgiving Bennet sister.” Not that he deserved to be forgiven.
“No,” Bingley said carefully. “Lizzy was quite angry with me when I returned, though she did not allow her sister to see it. Can you imagine if a man had treated your sister with special notice, speaking with her almost exclusively when in company with others, dancing with her twice at his own ball, and then decamping for London nearly immediately after? Leaving her to the tattling tongues of the town gossips and a disappointed mother?”
Darcy winced. “No, I cannot.” He knew, of course, that Jane Bennet had been hurt by Bingley’s departure. It was one of the things he had felt must be remedied, but he had feared making things worse, and had thus waited until he could accompany Bingley back to Netherfield himself.
“Well, she did. She held the grudge only until I was accepted again by my wife. Once Jane was happy, so was Elizabeth.” He stared into the fire.
Darcy had been cautious when relating his plan to Bingley.
Miss Jane Bennet might not have the same feelings for his friend as she once had, but Bingley was determined to find out once and for all.
When Darcy understood that Jane Bennet still loved Bingley and would forgive him, he had left Netherfield to allow his friend to court in peace.
He had not put the knocker up on the door in London, as he had wished for privacy to work through his feelings.
It was difficult to accept that his admiration and affection were not returned.
If only she had been able to remain at Pemberley for a few more days!
Everything then might have been different.
He might even have had some standing to force Lydia Bennet home.
During those days in London, his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh had called, but had left in a huff when the servants informed her that Darcy was not at home. The letter she had left for him had begun with vitriol, and he had not read the rest, but tossed it immediately into the fire.
It was unlike him. He had always been very patient with his aunt, for his mother had loved her. But he was worn out, all his reserves depleted. Loving Elizabeth without having gained, without having earned her love in return had been—was—a terrible burden to bear.
“You are quiet, Darcy, even for you.” Bingley nudged him with an elbow. “Are you asleep?”
Darcy scoffed. “Would I ever fall asleep in front of a fire rather than in my bed, Bingley?”
His friend laughed. “Most of us have, at one time or another, you know. When you are in your own chambers, you may do as you like.”
“Servants talk, Bingley. I am never alone, not even in my own chambers.”
Bingley leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped before him. “That sounds exhausting.”
Darcy cast his eyes upward. “It is.”
“Perhaps you ought to learn to shave yourself and tie your own cravat.”
It surprised a laugh out of him. Bingley was a good friend. He always knew when to be serious and when Darcy needed to be goaded out of his dark humours. “Perhaps I shall.”
“Because you are my good friend, Darcy, I shall offer you one more evening of reprieve. I will announce that your heroics today have left you quite done in and that you will dine up here. But tomorrow, I expect you to join us, like a gentleman should.”
Darcy sighed and nodded. “Thank you for your forbearance, Bingley. I shall do as you say.”
Bingley appeared a little shocked by Darcy’s easy acquiescence.
But Darcy knew that Elizabeth was unlikely to come to dinner tonight—her sister would not allow it after the events of this morning, no matter whether Elizabeth felt recovered or not.
And Elizabeth would not worry her sister by insisting.
But that would only last so long. Provided there were no lingering ill effects from her misadventure this morning, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be at dinner tomorrow night.
“Well, Darcy,” Bingley said, standing and tugging the hem of his waistcoat, “I will leave you to it.”
“To what?”
Bingley chuckled. “To whatever it is that you do when you are on your own.”
He nodded, but when his friend reached for the knob, Darcy abruptly recalled why he was still here, “How is your servant? The one who was taken ill?”
Bingley met Darcy’s gaze steadily. “He appears to be doing well enough, but it is too soon to say.”