Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth woke early to look in on Jane.
She was pleased to find her sister had slept through the night and her skin remained cool to the touch.
Now it should be simply a matter of ensuring Jane rested and took adequate nourishment.
Within a few days, they should be able to leave hostile, bewildering Netherfield and return to Longbourn.
Not a moment too soon. She dismissed Nancy and watched carefully to be sure she had departed.
Shortly after she settled in, there was a soft knock on Jane’s door and someone slipped inside. As the figure turned to face her, Elizabeth smiled widely. “Mary!” she exclaimed and tossed her arms around her younger sister.
Mary returned the embrace before removing her bonnet and dark red cloak and draping them over a chair. Her blond curls bobbed as they were released. “Mrs. Nicholls had me shown upstairs,” she explained. “How is Jane?”
Elizabeth surveyed Mary. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, clean petticoats. The ground must be entirely dry. “Better,” Elizabeth said, happy to relay the good news. “Her fever is gone and she is sleeping.”
The worry lines in Mary’s forehead smoothed.
“Good, good,” she murmured, taking Elizabeth’s hands.
“I know I am abominably early, but I thought you would need a ride by now.” She bit her lip and released her sister before adding, “I thought if I came to give you some relief as soon as I woke, I might miss the superior sisters altogether. Kitty and Lydia were rather snappish when I rousted them from bed. It was still dark out.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Mary, you are brilliant.”
“Only when there is something I do not wish to do,” Mary said plainly. “You must be missing Kensington.” She opened her reticule and removed an apple, likely one of the last left from the orchards. “For her.”
“You brought a gift for my horse, but not for me?” Elizabeth teased.
“Oh, Mrs. Nicholls says to tell you that Cook has something wrapped up for your ride,” Mary replied, unperturbed. “Apparently Mrs. Thistlewaite has decided that she likes you very much.” She raised an eyebrow. “I cannot fathom why.”
Elizabeth sighed wistfully. “Her food, Mary, good gracious.” Her expression grew dreamy as she recalled the feast from the night before.
“Partridge soup, fresh bread, garlic-glazed duck with parsnips, a spinach dish, sweet potatoes with walnuts and chestnuts, a spectacular chocolate cream. I shall need to be rolled to London if this continues.”
Mary’s eyes were wide. “Perhaps I should have overcome my pique sooner,” she said pertly.
“I have half a mind to ask Aunt Olivia hire her away,” Elizabeth admitted, “except that I rather like Mr. Bingley.”
“Have Aunt Russell invite him to dinner when he is in town,” Mary jested. “That will be consideration enough. I cannot believe such a cook is faring well under a woman like Miss Bingley.”
“If he should marry Jane, though…” Elizabeth said, thinking aloud.
“Then you had best leave the cook alone. Jane would never forgive you.” Mary screwed up her face in thought.
“Although,” she said slowly, “an excellent cook would have Mama over here every day despite her own local fame for setting a good table… perhaps, for Jane’s felicity, you ought to steal Mr. Bingley’s cook away. ”
“I quite agree, Mary,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I would be doing Mr. Bingley the greatest of favors by poaching Mrs. Thistlewaite.”
“You should change and go out, Lizzy,” Mary said pointedly. “I suspect Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst sleep late, but I do hope to be gone before they are about.”
Elizabeth grabbed her dark blue riding habit from the wardrobe, and with Mary’s help
was soon appropriately attired. She kissed Mary on the cheek, grabbed her crop, and nearly leapt out of the room and down the stairs.
When she reached the stables, the boy she had met a few days before seemed disappointed to see her, but obligingly went to retrieve her saddle.
Elizabeth smiled as she stroked the mare and offered her the treat Mary had brought.
Kensington devoured the apple and nuzzled Elizabeth’s shoulder.
Elizabeth leaned in to give her a kiss. “You are a good girl, Kensington,” she crooned.
“I miss you when I’m away.” Kensington snorted in her ear and she laughed.
As soon as she was mounted, she set off for the flat fields between her father’s estate and Mr. Bingley’s.
Elizabeth fancied a good, hard run, and knew that Kensington did, too.
The mare had been well cared for but had likely not been allowed her head.
She waited only until they were in the clearest part of the meadows before urging the Arabian to full flight.
Darcy drifted between dreaming and waking.
He was standing near the lake at Pemberley on a hot day, staring into the murky water.
He stripped down to his shirt and trousers and dove in.
As he swam to the center, the water transformed from cloudy to clear.
He could see all the way to the rocky bottom, green with growth.
Then he broke the surface and turned on his back to float.
He heard a melodic laugh. He turned his face to the sun and felt his lips stretch into a smile.
Elizabeth. Suddenly, he was no longer in the water; the very ground was shaking. Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Wake up, you old sot,” someone said near his ear, and Darcy dragged himself out of the darkness.
As he opened his eyes, the sunlight cut through him like jagged shards of glass.
He moaned, producing a sound he was sure he had never uttered before, and hid his face behind his hands.
His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he was perilously close to losing whatever remained in his stomach.
He struggled to sit up, leaning heavily on one arm.
A glass with a small amount of brandy was unceremoniously shoved into his free hand. The smoky aroma made him gag.
“Drink that slowly,” commanded the voice, and Darcy obeyed. When he opened his eyes next, his head still ached, but the pain was somewhat dulled. He pulled his knees up and rested his crossed arms on top to pillow his head.
“Good God,” he groaned. “I have not felt like this since university.” He could smell the musk and sweet hay of Richard’s mount. He had already been riding. How late was it?
There was a disgruntled sniff from the side of the bed. “That is why you should leave the drinking to those who know how.”
Darcy lifted one eyelid halfway. His cousin was still in his riding clothes, his gloves tucked halfway into a pocket.
He was wearing riding boots, and the mystery of the thumping was solved.
Richard had been kicking the bed. “Why are you waking me, Richard?” He closed the eyelid again.
“Do I not allow you to sleep after you have indulged?”
“I need answers. You have entirely upset my understanding of the world. In your cups,” Richard repeated, disbelieving. “You. Over a woman, no less.”
“Go away, Richard,” Darcy begged. “Let me suffer in peace.”
“I will leave you after you answer my questions,” Richard stated bluntly. “One, really.”
Darcy rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands. “What is that?” he croaked.
Richard’s voice was wary. “Have you ever seen Miss Elizabeth ride? Not just walk her horse, but ride?”
Darcy tried to think about that, but the effort sent his brain thrumming with pain. “No,” he replied finally. “I do not believe I have.” He had wanted to inspect the mare but had forgotten all about it.
Richard grunted and frowned, leaning back in his chair and tossing one leg over the arm. He did not appear like a man who meant to leave.
“I will likely regret this,” Darcy said, forcing the words out, “but why do you ask?”
“Because I saw her riding a beautiful Arabian this morning as though the devil himself was behind her,” Richard responded roughly.
“And if that was a country attorney’s daughter, I am dicked in the nob.
” He rubbed his chin. “Even should her father’s dibs be out of tune now, it was not always so, Darcy.
” He stood. “I understand your hesitation, but…”
Darcy shook his head. May Georgiana forgive me. “I am not strong enough,” he whispered.
“Come now, Darcy, you are a veritable Atlas,” Richard responded, worry creeping into his voice. “If anyone can guide a wife of little fortune and no connections through a season with the ton, it is you. You know my mother will help.”
Slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Darcy stood and reached for his trousers.
“You misunderstand me, Richard,” he said, his voice still so low that his cousin had to lean forward to hear.
Darcy put on the trousers, one careful leg at a time.
He pulled them up over his waist and straightened the braces.
Finally, he met his cousin’s gaze, feeling both rash and downhearted.
“I am not strong enough to do without her.”
Richard’s expression transformed into a bright smile.
“You are smelling of April and May, Darcy!” he proclaimed, his expression nothing short of gleeful.
He sat up straight. “Miss Elizabeth is a diamond of the first water, whatever her situation.” He pushed himself out of the chair and to a standing position.
“She will be a remarkable wife and sister.”
“Well do I know it,” Darcy agreed, still subdued. “But you know what happened over the summer. Can you tell me that this match will help Georgiana to a good marriage?” He tucked in his shirt and reached for his waistcoat.