Chapter Ten #2
He was so much more at ease in company when he was in Derbyshire.
More at ease than anywhere else, particularly London.
There was none of the awkward formality that required being polite even to the worst of people, none of the searching for hidden meaning in every utterance that made him reluctant to speak to anyone he did not know well.
And the careful analysis of his purse and person when in town was wearying.
In fact, Darcy was certain if the mothers of the ton did not fear driving him away, they would insist on inspecting his teeth, so minute was their inspection of him.
It made him feel like a horse being appraised for sale.
Mrs. Bennet might have moments of impropriety, but it was nothing to what he had experienced in town.
“We shall be hiring more servants soon, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, and he saw Miss Bennet glance at her mother with some exasperation. “For most of our family intends to come and stay for Christmas. You are both more than welcome to join us.”
“I shall have to see what my family’s plans are, Mrs. Bennet,” he said. “But I thank you for the invitation and will be sure to inform you when I know.”
“Elizabeth, you ought to plan a duet with Miss Darcy,” her mother said, her eyes on the embroidery she had picked up to work on. “For she tells me she is fond of music.”
“Oh, I am,” Miss Darcy said. “I should love that.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I would be pleased to do so, Miss Darcy, however there is no instrument here, other than a harp I cannot play and a harpsichord that is terribly out of tune.”
“Oh dear,” Mamma said. “I did forget.”
Elizabeth noted the subtle signs of her mother’s excitability—the quick movements of her hands as she worked her thread, the too-bright glimmer in her eyes.
Mamma turned to speak with Miss Darcy, and Elizabeth caught the slight flutter in her mother’s voice, the telltale sign she was about to launch into another matchmaking attempt.
She had to act quickly to prevent what would be a terribly awkward situation.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth said, “you must not exhaust Miss Darcy with all our family stories just yet. Remember, we will have several days together. Perhaps she would enjoy hearing about your plans for the festive season.”
Her mother paused, needle hovering mid-stitch.
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, her attention successfully diverted.
“I do enjoy decorating the house on Christmas Eve, Miss Darcy. All the girls and I participate, and even Mr. Bennet will help a little. We gather holly, ivy, evergreen boughs, hellebore, and rosemary to make garlands, and it makes the entire house smell wonderful.”
Thank goodness she had not mentioned the mistletoe. Elizabeth had forgotten about Mamma’s required kissing bough in her rush to distract her mother. She simply did not want to hear another story where she wound up six inches deep in mud, though in all fairness, Mamma had several to choose from.
Instead, what followed was an exhaustive comparison of Christmas preparations, with Elizabeth’s mother exclaiming in delight at each of Miss Darcy’s recitations. Elizabeth dared not interrupt again, and she caught Mr. Darcy watching them all with an almost imperceptible smile.
At last it was time to retire, and Mamma took Miss Darcy up to her chambers, still chatting. Fortunately, Miss Darcy appeared pleased enough to allow it.
As her mother and Mr. Darcy’s sister reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the guest chambers, Mr. Darcy halted, gently touching her arm. Elizabeth glanced up at him.
“Miss Bennet, I have not yet had a moment to share what I learned from my men,” he said in a low, serious tone.
Elizabeth’s heart beat a little harder. She nodded for him to continue.
“While my sister conversed with your mother before dinner, I spoke with Thompson. They have found no definitive evidence of anyone living about the estate. However, they have since discovered a few more indications that someone may have passed through recently—in addition to the cache where the stolen items were found, I mean.”
“What sort of indications?”
“Thompson reported a few disturbed patches of ground on the other side of the bridge from where the items were found. And one of the other men found some broken branches near the eastern boundary of the estate nearest Lambton. They were scattered, but as there are no trees in that area, they must have been carried over. He believes they were being used to provide shelter. Your intruder may be gone for now if he has abandoned it.”
“But nothing else? No tracks? No signs of a fire?”
He shook his head. “Of course you would know what to ask. No, if there were tracks, they have been swept away.”
“I suppose it is a relief not to discover anything more sinister.” It was the truth, but she was still worried.
“With your permission, my men will continue to watch the house and patrol the woods,” he assured her.
Elizabeth smiled. “I would appreciate that.”
He gazed steadily at her. “Your mother need not know the details, but she could be encouraged to lock her door and windows at night, and to avoid walking out too far? Even with Freedman?”
“My mother always locks her door and windows, particularly when it is cold. And it would be entirely out of character for her to walk out unless it is to the garden to gather herbs for the stillroom or cut flowers for her room, neither of which she will be doing again until spring.”
“Excellent.”
Elizabeth was grateful for his care. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I feel much more at ease knowing you are here.”
He took her hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. Slowly, deliberately, he bent his head toward her hand. Elizabeth's breath caught, her heart quickening as his lips drew closer. Closer.
But just as she braced for the tender brush of his lips against her skin, Mr. Darcy hesitated. His breath warmed her knuckles before he straightened abruptly, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. He let her hand go, the absence of his touch as startling as his taking her hand had been.
“It is my duty, Miss Bennet,” he said quietly, his voice lower, richer than before. “For I promised your father I would look after you both.”
Elizabeth's heart fluttered, still lingering in the moment of what had almost been. She met his gaze, searching for something that would tell her she had not allowed her imagination to make a fool of her, but found nothing beyond his composed expression.
“Yes of course,” she said, a little ashamed to have hoped for more.
They stood a moment longer in silence, before Mr. Darcy said, “Good evening, Miss Bennet.”
After bidding Miss Bennet an embarrassed good night, Darcy stepped into his chamber.
The room was simple, yet comfortable, with a large bed covered with a warm counterpane and draped in heavy linens.
The fire had been stoked to chase away the evening chill.
He could hear his valet, Mr. Harris, bustling about in the attached dressing room.
When the door shut behind him, he ran his hands through his hair. He had almost kissed Miss Bennet’s hand, which would have been a terrible breach of trust. He had promised Mr. Bennet he would look after the ladies, and that certainly did not include improper behaviour towards the man’s daughter.
He was determined to uncover the truth about whoever had been stealing things from the estate and protect the Bennet women from harm.
But more than that, he found he wanted to protect Miss Bennet from any threat, now or in the future.
Yet as much as he felt drawn to her—her teasing wit, the warmth in her eyes, the strength of her character—he knew he must keep his attraction under good regulation.
He had been entrusted with her safety and her mother’s, and it would be dishonourable to pursue his own desires while fulfilling that responsibility.
To act on his burgeoning affection now would place Miss Bennet in an impossible position, one where she might feel obligated to accept his advances out of gratitude or duty, or worst of all, fear, rather than her true sentiments.
No, he would not compromise her autonomy or his honour.
He would safeguard her, but within the restraint befitting a gentleman, until such a time as she was truly free to choose.
Mr. Harris was laying out Darcy's nightclothes and preparing the room for sleep.
As the valet helped him out of his coat and waistcoat, his thoughts continued to centre upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
After Mr. Harris had gone, Darcy sat on his bed, mind still alert.
He heard the soft click of the door as his valet departed, leaving him alone with thoughts that would not still.
He slipped under the covers and stared up at the canopy, the weight of his duties pressing down on him.
As he snuffed out his own candle and closed his eyes, he knew keeping his feelings for Miss Bennet hidden might prove the most difficult challenge of all.