Chapter Sixteen #2
“By all means, allow me to serve as your valet,” his cousin replied, scoffing.
Once Darcy was dressed, Richard placed a palm against Darcy’s chest. Darcy glanced down at it, then up into his cousin’s serious face.
“Yes,” Richard said somberly. “I do remember. You would not allow me to track the miscreant down and bury him in a hole. Do you recall that?”
“I do,” Darcy rasped. His throat was parched. “I did not want you in prison.”
His cousin was silent for a moment. “When you mention a good match for Georgiana,” he said at last, “you refer, surely, to one where Georgiana falls in love with an excellent man and he with her?” Richard’s gaze was ice and steel.
“Because that is the kind of marriage she desires, and all I will allow. Or have you perhaps forgotten that I am also her guardian?”
“I have not,” Darcy retorted, impatient, “and of course that is the kind of marriage I mean. I simply worry about limiting her options with my own selfish choices.”
“Now I know you are addled,” Richard said with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“You are the least selfish person I know, Darcy, and that includes Georgiana.” He removed his hand from Darcy’s chest and slapped his cousin on the shoulder, setting Darcy’s head to pounding again.
“To show I approve of your decision, I will even allow you to bathe first.” He picked up the book on Darcy’s side table and settled into the chair.
“You need to come to the point with your Miss Elizabeth before the Bennet sisters leave for Longbourn,” he said as he turned a page, “and I daresay you have ground to make up.” He glanced up. “Besides, you smell like Hurst.”
Darcy frowned at his cousin but felt a tiny flame of hope. He could show Miss Elizabeth he was not the boor she met at the assembly.
Or rather, the man she did not meet at the assembly.
He groaned.
Elizabeth was pleased that Molly had already called for hot water, and she bathed quickly. When she entered Jane’s room, Mary put down the book she had been reading aloud and stood.
“I hope to see you home soon, Jane,” she said, bending to kiss Jane’s cheek in farewell. “I shall tell Papa you are doing just as well as Elizabeth has reported.”
Rather than answer, Jane smiled, touching her throat to indicate it was still sore.
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, “would you ask Papa to hold the rest of my post? We shall return to Longbourn soon, and I can answer any letters then.”
Mary nodded. “Of course. I can imagine you would not like Miss Bingley to come across your correspondence.”
Elizabeth paused. “I would ask you to take my portfolio home, but you are walking. Will you tell James I shall ask him to convey it safely back to Longbourn? He will need to bring saddlebags.”
Jane and Mary both gave her strange looks, and Mary spoke. “Surely nobody has…”
“No, no,” Elizabeth replied hurriedly, “not yet, at any rate.”
Jane looked relieved. “Very well,” Mary agreed. “I will tell him.”
Elizabeth gave Mary a quick embrace. “Kensington and I thank you for coming, Mary. I had a lovely ride.”
“Of course,” Mary replied with a wink. She turned to the bed. “Jane thinks she might be able to eat this morning, so I will let Mrs. Thistlewaite know when I leave.”
“Very good, Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth happily, turning to her eldest sister and clasping her hands together. “If you rest all day, perhaps you might be able to join us in company for an hour or two tonight. I know someone who has been most anxious to see you.”
Mary wrinkled her nose, but Jane flushed before she dutifully leaned back into her pillows and closed her eyes. Soon she was asleep again, her even breaths and improved color marking the beginning of her return to health.
Elizabeth and Mary were just completing their farewells when a knock came at the door. Mary turned wide eyes on Elizabeth, who shook her head.
“They are never about this early, Mary,” she reassured her sister, giving her hand a squeeze, “and they never come to see Jane until after breakfast.”
Mary nodded, one hand pressed to her heart. “I just have a difficult time not speaking freely around them,” she said in a faint voice, “and I should not wish to make things more difficult for you or Jane.”
Elizabeth almost laughed. “I do not think that is possible, Mary.” She stepped to the door.
Darcy tried to stand still as he waited for someone to answer his knock.
He knew that Miss Elizabeth was usually with her sister by this time; he hoped a servant would not answer.
His left hand twitched and he willed it to stop.
Despite the pitcher of water, the headache powders, and the coffee Richard had poured down his throat, not to mention the shockingly cold water that had been in his bath, his neck and shoulders still ached.
But he was awake and alert and could let this go no longer.
Everything Darcy had ever been taught screamed at the impropriety.
A gentleman did not knock on the chamber door of a maiden.
Certainly not at this early hour. No, not ever.
The fingers on his left hand tapped out a pattern on the side of his leg.
Propriety told him to go away. Decency impelled him to render an apology forthwith.
He was not meant to see the picture that had revealed his blunder.
I should go. Still, Charles had told him last night, so he had already been made aware, and the picture should be returned in privacy. I should stay.
His internal battle was brought to a halt when the door cracked open a little to reveal two dark eyes that glanced up to meet his own. His heart sped up and when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered. “What are you doing here, sir?”
Darcy willed himself to speak. “I hope your sister is better?”
He was rewarded with a perplexed look. “She is, I thank you.”
He nodded. “I am pleased to hear it.” Now or never. In his right hand was a book with a piece of drawing paper pressed inside, and he held it up.
“I believe I have something that belongs to you, Miss Elizabeth.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, he saw something close to panic in her expressive eyes as they widened. “Oh, I… which one…” her voice trailed off and she held out her hand to take it.
Darcy lowered his hand so that she could not retrieve it and disappear. “I would speak with you, Miss Elizabeth. Might I beg a moment?”
The eyelids closed briefly and then opened again.
The panic was gone, replaced by resolve.
Darcy suppressed an urge to kick himself.
How could he ever have found her anything but admirable?
Why had he fought it so determinedly? A dowry would have been welcome, of course, but he did not need one.
As for connections, he had his own, and they had served him well his entire life.
She was what he needed. Witty, intelligent, affectionate, kind.
Spirited. Brave. Beautiful. Once having met her, he would never have been able to marry elsewhere. Not happily.
It struck him then, as he heard Miss Elizabeth direct him to the sitting room one door down, that he was just like his sister in this.
He and Georgiana had always loved one another.
Why would either seek a marriage without affection?
Now that he had allowed himself to admit his feelings, he would never be able to renounce them.
He had thought himself under good regulation, but he had only been fooling himself.
You know what you want, Darcy thought, as he moved to the sitting room. Do not let her slip away. He paused a moment and then lifted his hand, but before he could knock, the door opened, and he was invited inside.
Elizabeth bustled back into the room and took Mary’s hand. “Mary,” she hissed, “Mr. Darcy wishes to speak with me. I have sent him to the sitting room. Will you sit by the open door and chaperone?”
Mary’s mouth fell open. “What is he doing here, Lizzy?”
“He found something of mine and wants to return it,” Elizabeth said, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes.
“Elizabeth…” Mary replied, “were that the case, he could have returned it through the door.”
“Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice faltering. “I have done something quite stupid. Please, just do as I ask, and I promise I will explain it all later.”
Mary nodded slowly and set a chair by the door that opened into the sitting room. “Just speak quietly, Lizzy. Jane is still sleeping.”
“I shall,” Elizabeth said, giving Mary a quick kiss and hurrying through to the sitting room.
She pulled the main door open to find Mr. Darcy standing in the hall, his fist raised as if to knock.
“Come inside, please, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice hushed. He followed her directions and she shut the door. He frowned, but she gestured to Mary.
“My sister will chaperone,” she told him. Mary nodded at him. “And we must lower our voices, as Jane is asleep.”
“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice rather gravelly. “I was unaware that Miss Mary was at Netherfield.”
“So is most of the household, sir,” Elizabeth replied with a small smile. “She came to allow me time for a ride this morning.” She motioned at the book he still held, the drawing paper sticking out on all sides. “I believe that belongs to me, Mr. Darcy?”
“May I sit, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked somberly.
Oh, this is going to be awful. He has found a portrait of himself, or the one of Miss Bingley, and he means to lecture me. Elizabeth knew her impatience was not well-concealed, but she pursed her lips and motioned to the nearest chair. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”