Chapter 7
Acreak of a hinge woke Darcy from his alcohol-induced stupor and signalled that some unknown person was entering the room.
He lifted his head, only to be confronted with the painful realisation that this action was a grave error of judgment.
The world around him swayed, his temples throbbing so forcefully it was as though they had been kicked by a horse.
Screwing his eyes shut, he dropped his head back onto the cushions.
Footsteps echoed, then he heard Elizabeth’s voice. “Darcy, are you awake? How do you fare?”
He moaned in reply and waved his hand from his prone position. She settled on the sofa next to him and pushed his hair from his forehead. “I have been coming to look in on you every ten minutes. Is there anything you need?”
He opened one eye. “What happened?” Her expression was drawn, and he could not read it with any degree of accuracy.
“You ran from my mother’s dining room to seek some privacy while you were violently sick. Bingley went to your rescue and found you staggering around the rose garden. He persuaded you to sleep the worst of it off in my father’s book-room.”
He let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. “Forgive me, Elizabeth.”
“I did not have you as a fool,” she murmured. “Why did you not stop when I cautioned you?”
Darcy winced. He removed his hands from his face and pushed himself to a sitting position, so embarrassed he could hardly look at her directly. “Did I ruin the party?”
“For many people you made it vastly more entertaining.”
Even though she was smiling, he heard the reproach in her voice. “But I have upset you. You must accept my sincere apologies. I had no intention of becoming so drunk.”
“Then why did you? You could have retired early. I told you countless times that you need not stay.”
“But that is precisely why I did!”
Darcy did not mean to snap, but he could not help himself. His headache worsened. “You and your family think I am dull and above my own company. I wished to prove otherwise.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her mouth gaping open. “You think I regard you as a dullard? What a ridiculous notion! I love you more than life itself! I encouraged you to retreat from the party as I know how outlandish my mother can be, and I wanted to shield you from her ridiculous conduct.”
“I do not need protection. My desire was to show you how I would do anything to make you happy. I can see now that I failed in that endeavour.” Darcy’s words faded as bile rose in his throat.
Sensing what was to come next, Elizabeth swiftly rose from his side and hurriedly located a pot in the far corner of the room.
“I never liked it much in any case,” she said, rubbing his back and shoulders as he filled the pot with the contents of his stomach.
At last he was finished. His mortification complete, he groaned.
“I am sorry that you should see me in this awful state. It was not a lie when I said that I rarely feel the effect of alcohol. I can earnestly assure you that I had no desire to become so inebriated. This has never happened before, and I swear it will not happen again.”
She laughed softly, the pressure of her hand increasing slightly.
“Do not promise me that, for I must confess, for many parts of the evening you were delightful. I had no idea you could be so talkative. I—and all of my acquaintance—have seen a side to you that I was not aware existed. But you must know that you do not need to behave differently to impress me. If I wanted a husband who was as silly as certain members of my family, I should have married Mr Collins. I think you are perfect, just as you are.”
Despite the fact his mouth now tasted of stomach acid, Darcy grinned. “Perfect, you say?”
She quirked a brow then used his handkerchief to wipe the side of his face. “Perhaps at this moment you are not displaying yourself to the greatest advantage, but in general terms, you are in many ways the ideal man.”
Darcy’s smile grew wider. “The ideal man?”
“Yes!” Elizabeth replied with a hint of exasperated affection. “Though if you persist in repeating what I am saying with that foolish look upon your face, I may have no other choice but to reconsider my opinions.”
He chuckled, then moaned, his chest and stomach aching from the movement.
“Shall I leave you to rest here?” Elizabeth removed the pot from his grasp and placed it on the floor a short distance from him. “Or would you prefer to retire to bed?”
“What time is it?”
“It is just past midnight. Most of the guests have departed. A few stragglers remain—some that rival your own state of inebriation, so you need not worry yourself about being the only one.”
Taking some comfort from this disclosure, Darcy nodded and rested his head on the back of the sofa. “A warm bed and a night shirt sound most tempting, but I do not wish to further offend your family by not wishing them good night.”
“Do not trouble yourself about their sensibilities.” Elizabeth’s mouth tightened to a thin line. “My parents’ maid informed me that she suspected Lydia to be adding an extra drop of brandy to your drinks. No wonder you felt its effects so acutely.”
“The little she-devil!” he exclaimed before checking himself.
Elizabeth did not seem to mind his insult.
“I cannot prove it, unfortunately, as it would only be her word against that of a servant, but I can well believe it to be true.” With a huff of exasperation, she shook her head and glanced about the room.
The shadowy outline of a basket on Mr Bennet’s desk caught her attention.
She stood to take a closer inspection. “What is all this?”
The surprise. With everything that had happened, it had escaped his mind completely. “It is nothing of importance,” he said, too quickly. “This morning I was seized by an impulse to buy a set of presents, and I entrusted Gallagher with the task of organising it.”
“Are they for me?” said Elizabeth, a faint blush on her cheeks as she peered into the basket, picking up one or two of the items inside.
“No,” he admitted with an embarrassed laugh. “They are for your family. I cannot pretend it was a grand gesture, rather I could not be called a dull stick by your youngest sister and do nothing about it.”
“So you enacted your revenge by secretly buying them all thoughtful gifts?” Her eyes shining with emotion, Elizabeth returned to him and placed a tender kiss upon his brow.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and after the disastrous events of this evening, I am not sure whether I can face your family in my current state.” He gestured vaguely at his disordered clothes. “It would be better, perhaps, if you said they were from you.”
Elizabeth smoothed her fingers through his hair. “What if we were to do it together? After you went to such trouble, I could never take all the credit for this wonderful surprise. Be assured that I shall be at your side, ready to defend you against offers of drink or festive games.”
“Like a delightful guard dog?”
She gave a laugh of surprise and pulled him closer to plant a kiss upon his head. “What compliments my husband gives me!”
A quick scrub of the face and change of jacket and Darcy was already half way to feeling like a human again.
Gallagher had made a concoction for him—apparently a recipe from his days in the army.
Several swigs of the foul-smelling liquid and Darcy was almost brave enough to face Elizabeth’s family.
He rinsed out his mouth with tooth powder and gazed at himself in the mirror, trying to suppress the lingering nauseous sensation burning in his gut.
A message came that they were waiting for him in the book-room, and he accepted his fate with no small amount of reluctance.
Eight pairs of eyes turned to look in his direction as he crossed the threshold.
Candles lit the room, and he could see with perfect clarity the look of amused curiosity on each of their faces.
Mercifully there were no lingering signs of his earlier incapacitation, and he performed a silent prayer that Mr Bennet would not ask what happened to the pot.
He sought out Mrs Bennet and returned her wooden crown, hoping she would not notice the scratches from when it fell into a bush after he escaped the dining room.
“I abdicate,” he announced solemnly, and with the exception of Mrs Bennet, the whole party fell apart with laughter.
As much as he hated being the object of ridicule, the corners of Darcy’s mouth tugged in reluctant divertissement.
I must have made quite a spectacle of myself, he conceded.
“I beg your forgiveness,” he said awkwardly before looking sharply at Mrs Wickham. “I fear the drinks were stronger than I realised.”
“Do not trouble yourself on that front.” Mr Bennet wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “As I always say, what do we live for, but to make sport for others and laugh at them in return.”
Mrs Bennet looked on the brink of tears. “You were a worthy king to the very end. I have never had a man remain so steadfastly by my side throughout an evening. I am sorry that it is all over.” Her expression was so melancholy that it was as though she had just learnt of his untimely death.
Shoulders shaking with mirth, Bingley approached him and muttered in his ear, “I am grateful for your earlier intervention. The events of this evening go no farther than Meryton, you have my word.”
Darcy nodded and looked over to Mrs Bingley, who beamed at him with sparkling gratitude. She is looking much better, he was pleased to note.
Sitting by the fireplace was Mrs Wickham, whose sour expression implied that she had not had much success with the mistletoe. She glared at Darcy and pouted. “Will someone be so good as to explain why we have been asked to gather here?”