Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
"Miss Bennet." The butler bowed his head before retreating from the breakfast table. Elizabeth smiled. Who knew something as simple as a morning cup of chocolate could prove so much more delicious with the knowledge that she was in a place where Mr. Collins could not find or reach her?
"Thank you." Elizabeth directed her smile at the servant, who answered it with a brief, pleasant nod.
It had been three days since her arrival at Darcy House, three days of shy awkwardness slowly easing into a more comfortable set of interactions.
Mr. Darcy had seemed loathe to leave her alone the first day, no doubt still worried over her safety.
But once Elizabeth and Georgiana had established their friendship over music and reading and a few choice jokes about the ridiculously complicated roads of London, the master of the house had seemed willing to leave them to their devices, joining them only for breakfast, dinner, and a few quiet hours after.
Every household had its own timbre, much like instruments.
And while Longbourn's tone had always been loud and boisterous, like a pair of clanging cymbals a few beats off, Darcy House's was the equivalent of a soothing violin.
Everything glided by smoothly and elegantly, with the fragrance of fresh flowers touching every other corner of its slender hallways.
Elizabeth sighed after a sip of her chocolate. Was it any wonder that Miss Bingley longed to become Mrs. Darcy? There was something to be said about being mistress of such a lovely home. Even a simple morning meal felt like a treat.
"Miss Bennet," a more formal, yet familiar, voice called out. Elizabeth turned with a ready smile just as Mr. Darcy sat himself down beside her. The servants hurried to serve him as efficiently as they had served her. "I hope the food and lodgings have been to your liking."
It was difficult not to blush. "I deserve nothing of your kindness. How dare I complain when you are extending every generosity towards me?"
"I hope your injury no longer bothers you. If we were at Pemberley, a main floor bedroom could have been made available.”
"Please do not worry. I am perfectly well." On impulse, Elizabeth placed a hand over his. He stilled, and she pulled back quickly. "Again, I am wholly in your debt."
"You are helping me, are you not?"
"Speaking and spending time with your lovely sister can hardly be considered much of a favor. It is only what I would have loved to do in the first place."
Mr. Darcy seemed to mull over her words for a brief moment before he huffed a small smile. "If I had known, I would have begged to make the acquaintance sooner."
"Miss Darcy is delightful, and she forces me to practice my French, which is also a favor to me."
"You speak French?"
"Ce ne sont que quelques comptines, est-ce vraiment parler Francais?"
"Mais certainement, madame."
"Not that it says much of my knowledge of French, considering how much I favor English childish stories as well."
"Stories for children are hardly always childish. I prefer a few of them myself."
Elizabeth raised a curious brow. "Do you? I admit I find it difficult to imagine the great Mr. Darcy sitting down on the nursery floor with a child on his knee."
A soft, almost sad, expression crossed over his face. "Georgiana was that child."
Her heart clenched, and she very nearly reached for his hand once more. He raised it to help himself to food instead, and Elizabeth felt conflicting pangs of regret and relief that he did.
"You are a good brother," she said.
"I try to be."
"I could have used one." Elizabeth sniffed. She had managed to go several days without crying for the first time since leaving home. She did not wish to falter now. "If my family had been more secure in their fortunes, then perhaps Papa would not have felt so desperate."
"I will keep you safe."
It was a wonder how five simple words could have such life-altering impact. Elizabeth breathed deep, eager to keep her tears at bay. Her respite at Darcy House was heaven-sent, but she could hardly impose herself any longer than was strictly necessary.
"Thank you," she answered softly, not daring to claim she needed no help. Clearly, the past weeks had taught her that she did. "I need only a few more days for my uncle to placate my father. I can return after it is safe to do so."
"And what of the days after your return?"
Elizabeth looked up at the practical question. "I do not understand."
"You have said yourself that you cannot rely on your uncle forever."
"Yes. I will seek employment."
"You have mentioned needing references, but I cannot in good conscience allow a gentlelady to place herself in such a position if I am able to assist her otherwise."
"You can assist me by providing references."
"Or perhaps there is another way?"
Elizabeth frowned. "What?"
Mr. Darcy took his time swallowing before sliding his silverware onto the table. "My sister needs a friend. It would honor me if you continue to be that friend."
"You will employ me?"
"No, I will not." He looked almost affronted, and then, after that, panicked. "That is to say, I could never demean you so. But if Georgiana wishes to share her pin money, I have no objections."
It was not at all what Elizabeth had imagined her future to be, an existence on the fringes of society, surviving on nothing more than the charity of her unexpected, newfound friends.
But it was a situation that would allow her to maintain her reputation, and that of her sisters. She would be a fool not to at least consider it. Fleeing one's home had its way of humbling a person.
"I thank you for the offer," she said quietly. "I can only hope my father can be brought to his senses before it comes to that."
Mr. Darcy nodded, turning back to his meal.
"Oh, Lizzy, I am so very sorry." Georgiana Darcy drew her slender arms around her at Darcy House, and Elizabeth allowed herself to welcome the comforting embrace. Her heart thudded, her limbs still trembling from the unexpected events at Gracechurch Street this morning.
It had been thoughtful of Georgiana to suggest that they visit her family, for she had already spent more than a full week away from them.
And even if Elizabeth did not expect her uncle and aunt to welcome her back enthusiastically, she’d at least anticipated a good chat or the opportunity to share a cup or tea or two.
She'd allowed the Darcy siblings to escort her based on those assumptions alone.
As it turned out, her hopes for an amicable introduction and a civil morning call, with perhaps a moment to discuss when she could return to the Gardiner home, had been as futile as a child's when praying that his snowman never melt.
Aunt Gardiner's rushed words at the door still echoed in Elizabeth's ears.
“Go. You cannot stay here. Your father has hired a Bow Street Runner to find you, and there is nothing those men do not see. Go. Now.'
How Papa could possibly afford the fees to hire a private officer baffled Elizabeth.
The extravagance could only mean that there were other parties invested in finding her, or that her father was even more desperate to have her marry Mr. Collins than she'd expected.
It was difficult to comprehend, and extremely unsettling.
"We will do anything to protect you," assured Georgiana, a true friend, if a relatively new one. "Won't we, Fitzwilliam?"
Elizabeth flushed with mortification at the reminder that Mr. Darcy was currently watching all her embarrassment unfold. She tried her best to wipe away most of her tears. It was ridiculous how much she had been weeping of late.
"We will, certainly," said Mr. Darcy, his tone brooking no argument. "If there is anything we can do, we shall surely have it done."
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth protested, "there can be no justification whatsoever for me to impose on your family longer, especially when an officer is involved. Your reputation and safety cannot possibly be placed at risk for the sake of mine."
It surprised her to see the man beside her look utterly affronted. "And leave you to the wolves at your greatest time of need? I would like to think myself a better friend—nay, a better gentleman than that."
A sliver of a memory about Mr. Wickham's complaints slipped through Elizabeth's mind.
While the man's accusations about Mr. Darcy, and Miss Darcy, had sounded entirely credible based on what Elizabeth had witnessed in Hertfordshire, those complaints felt almost incongruent with the determined savior and compassionate friend she currently found herself with.
She dismissed the thought for another time. She had more pressing concerns than the suave words of a military rogue. "But if the runner finds me here—"
"The Bow Street Runners are capable, but not omniscient," said Mr. Darcy.
"But if they do find me—"
"Then I shall have my servants turn them away."
"There might still be evidence."
"Fitzwilliam can see to all that, can't you?
" said Georgiana, her confidence in her brother clearly unwavering.
She thread her arms through Elizabeth's and guided the three of them into the drawing room.
For such a young girl, she exhibited an impressive affinity for nurturing.
"It is entirely unfair to use the force of the law to insist you marry someone you do not want. "
"I'm afraid not all of us have the luxury of choice when it comes to matrimony."
"We all have a choice, do we not? Fitzwilliam, you said yourself that no one can force you to marry anyone. Or else, you would have had to marry Anne."
Curiosity got the better of Elizabeth as she turned to Mr. Darcy just in time to witness him shifting in a discomfited way. He cleared his throat. "I shall not marry Anne."
"Yes, because you said the law cannot force anyone to marry. And it can't force Lizzy either."
Elizabeth basked in the assurance of what the younger girl just said. "So if my father finds me here—”
"I would think he could at most only make you go home."
Another sniff escaped Elizabeth, despite her best efforts. "It is difficult to think of Longbourn as home now."
"Then you shall not go," said Mr. Darcy, his determined tone back in full force. Elizabeth met his eyes, drawing comfort from his confidence. "You shall never call home anywhere you do not wish to, not if I have anything to say about it."
And Elizabeth believed him.