Chapter Fourteen
When the maid came to relieve her just after dawn, Elizabeth slipped away to her room and changed into a gown more appropriate for a stroll in the gardens.
The weather was sharp and bracing, just what she needed after the stifling heat of the sickroom.
She had been unable to rest much, but equally unable to leave Jane, who had been feverish all night.
Her fever had not waned with the morning, but thankfully, it had never climbed high enough to cause any real alarm.
First, she walked to the stables to check on Kensington.
The young groom tried to hide his pleasure at being asked to exercise the mare for her and set off to prepare.
After a time, she decided to return upstairs and try to sleep for a few hours before breakfast. She intended to eat downstairs, not only to avoid creating more work for the servants already tasked with tending to Jane, but to show Miss Bingley that she was not intimidated.
Elizabeth was certain that returning to Jane so quickly last night had allowed Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to discuss her improper arrival with the men.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst lost both their parents at a young age.
Have they never felt fear for a loved one?
Her stomach growled, and she considered the lateness of breakfast the day before. It would be hours yet before it was served. Elizabeth made her way to the back entrance to the kitchens, and was brought up short by an exasperated Mrs. Nicholls, who was just emerging from her office nearby.
“Twice in two days, Miss Lizzy?” Her eyes flashed, and Elizabeth noted the chaos behind the housekeeper. There was the sound of a plate shattering and the cook’s strident tone rose above the apologies.
“I was only hoping to find something to eat,” she said, feeling for all the world as if she were seven again, dragging toads into the garden with Theo Ruskin.
It occurred to her that the red-headed, freckled boy with the perpetually torn cuffs and trousers was of age now and owned the entire property.
“Anything would do.” She felt rather sheepish.
“Miss Bingley had breakfast served rather late yesterday…”
Mrs. Nicholls held up a hand and disappeared.
When she reemerged, it was with two hot rolls slathered with butter and wrapped in a towel.
When she saw Elizabeth’s face light up, she offered a tight smile of her own.
“Now off you go. Cook’s in a lather. Miss Bingley insists on a breakfast to serve an army with only the barest of staff working in the kitchen. ”
The rolls were warm in her hand and the scent of newly baked bread tickled her nose. “What is Cook’s name, Mrs. Nicholls?” Elizabeth asked.
“Mrs. Thistlewaite,” the housekeeper said, her expression questioning.
“Please thank Mrs. Thistlewaite for me,” Elizabeth replied with a small smile. Mrs. Nicholls shooed her away and returned inside. Elizabeth took her bounty out to a stone bench located in the garden and sat to eat.
The first roll was decadent: warm, sweet and salty.
She finished the first quickly though she took dainty bites.
She glanced about to be sure she was alone before taking a large bite from the second when she heard footsteps; someone was nearly upon her.
She tried to chew quickly, but more she chewed, the more the bread seemed to expand, and she was forced to be content with holding one hand up before her mouth and ducking her head to hide her bulging cheeks.
Who else could possibly be about this early?
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” said a low voice she was coming to know well.
Oh dear Lord, she thought, why is it always him? She chewed a few more times and then swallowed the lump whole. It is almost a sin not to have savored that roll, she thought unhappily, but at least she could lower her hand and return the greeting.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she managed to say.
He was laughing at her again. She was not certain how she knew this, for his voice was as polite as always and his expression entirely devoid of anything that would suggest it.
Still, she knew. Perhaps it was the tiny creases at the corners of his lips.
“You have caught me, sir,” she continued, deciding that the best way to proceed was not to ignore the awkward situation in which she found herself.
He inquired after her sister, to which she made an honest reply.
He replaced his hat. “I have no wish to disturb your repast, Miss Elizabeth,” he told her, nodding vaguely to the south of the house.
“I was just on my way to the stables for a ride.” Elizabeth thought he might bid her farewell, but he remained.
“Perhaps you have the better idea,” he said, motioning to her roll.
“Breakfast rarely makes it to the table before eleven here, and yesterday’s meal was particularly late. ”
“Numbers, Mr. Darcy,” she said pertly, rising to the cook’s defense. “If one wishes to be served at a reasonable hour, the number of dishes should not outnumber the staff twice over.”
His eyebrows lifted, but there was no other movement. Inscrutable. Well, Mr. Darcy, what have you to say to that? She watched closely as his dark eyebrows lowered and then knitted together.
“I believe you must be correct, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with some discomfort. “I have not had the opportunity to count the kitchen staff.” His eyes searched hers, and she felt a little quiver in her stomach. His eyes were so very blue.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks begin to heat. “Forgive my impertinence, sir.”
“No, not at all,” he replied seriously. “I admit I had not given it much thought.” He glanced at the bench. “May I?”
“Of course,” she replied, making room. “Though I should not like to detain you.”
“My cousin arrives today,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting slightly. “So I may ride with him later if he chooses.”
“Your cousin?” she asked. One of the Fitzwilliams? She could perhaps make discreet inquiries about Georgiana. It struck her then, that she was quite alone with Mr. Darcy. This is the perfect time to speak.
“Indeed,” he said, “my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Formerly Captain Fitzwilliam.” He gave her one of his serious looks, his lips drawn down into a frown. “He is considered rather charming but is at present on the run from his matchmaking mother.”
Elizabeth smiled. She could not help but be entertained by the image his words painted, quite a contrast to the dashing hero Georgiana had described. “Mr. Darcy,” she began, determined to tell him everything. “There is something I should…”
“Hullo!” came a cry from several yards away, and Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. Why is this so difficult? Mr. Bingley was approaching from the house, and, as she stood to meet him, she saw a groom from the stables heading towards them from the opposite direction.
Never mind, she told herself. I will find the time. Somehow.
“Good morning, Bingley,” Darcy said as he stood. “I thought you must still be abed.”
“I was,” Bingley grinned. “But I see that to my benefit you have been most charmingly detained.” He gave Elizabeth a short bow and she curtsied. “May I inquire after your sister?”
“She did not sleep well, I am afraid,” Elizabeth informed him, the hand holding the remains of her roll artfully tucked behind her back. No doubt he will see that, too. “Though her fever has not grown worse.”
“Well,” he said, tapping the toe of his boot against the ground. “Perhaps that is the best one can expect for the present.” He gazed back at the house.
He taps his foot when he worries, Elizabeth noted warmly.
“Indeed,” she agreed. “It is time for me to return to my sister, gentlemen. Enjoy your ride.”
Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth as she walked away, surreptitiously taking small bites from what was left of her breakfast. Bingley slapped him on the back and they made for the stables.
Meeting Miss Elizabeth unexpectedly and observing both her resistance to disguise and her contradictory attempts to hide what she was about had put him in a remarkably good mood.
“When do you expect Fitzwilliam will arrive?” Bingley asked. “I rather supposed he would be sitting on the steps before anyone was awake.”
Darcy nodded. “He may have stopped in the village to avoid that. I suspect he will be here before breakfast.”
“Well, that hardly narrows it down, does it?” Bingley replied with a laugh. The grooms led their horses out, and soon, they were off.
It was lovely country, though no place could hold his heart like Derbyshire.
The gently rolling fields made for easy riding, and other than the rain that had brought the eldest Bennet sisters to stay, the weather had been unseasonably warm.
In the distance he thought he could glimpse two of the other Bennet daughters strolling along Longbourn’s land before the path turned away and took them north.
Being away from the house was a respite from Miss Bingley’s constant attentions.
She had never gone beyond seeking his opinion too assiduously, standing too close to him, or attempting to take an arm that had not been offered.
He doubted she ever would. She treasured her place in society too much to risk his outright censure.
Yet she had been employing all of these tactics any time she was in his presence, and he was growing impatient.
Because of his friendship with Bingley, he had not called attention to her familiarities, but just as she valued her social position, he cherished his privacy.