Chapter 4
There was something uncompromising about the tone of Mr. Darcy’s voice that made Elizabeth’s stomach clench. Passing through the threshold of his very fine home did not help, either. A chasm had opened between them. Here, he was the master, and she was nothing more than a temporary guest.
“Thank you for everything,” she said, curtseying hastily as she recalled her manners. “Pray go up, Mr. Darcy,” she said, earnestly. “You need not worry about us. You must look after yourself.”
He nodded and moved inwards through a large antechamber, where he paused to issue more commands to the butler. He then turned to his sister who was walking at his side. Miss Darcy, Elizabeth presumed.
“Georgiana, will you see to it that our guests have everything they need? In case I have forgotten something?” he said. “And have a note sent round to their address to inform her family they will be delayed, and not to worry.”
“Of course.”
He began his ascent up the elegant marble staircase, confident his orders would be followed.
Elizabeth had been so preoccupied with the rescue, she had not been paying much attention.
Everything had indicated that the gentleman who had saved Maggie was very wealthy: the carriage, his attire, his manner of speech.
It was only now that she realized this was no ordinary London townhouse.
It was full of objects that had been collected over centuries, watched over by portraits of gentlemen going back to at least the Tudor times.
She had an inappropriate impulse to laugh.
The man’s dignified withdrawal was ruined by boots that were sloshing in a heavy, leathery way as he climbed the stairs.
Meanwhile, Maggie’s dress was making a puddle onto a marble floor so pristine and shiny that Elizabeth hardly dared walk on it.
Her own clothes were leaving a trail of water as she moved.
It was absurd to think of something like this when Maggie had almost drowned, but she had never felt more out of place.
Luckily, the housekeeper appeared at that moment, bustling with solicitous energy.
“Oh, you poor things!! What happened?” She bent down to Maggie’s eye level. “Did you take a dip in the lake? Swim with the ducks?”
“Not with the ducks,” said Maggie, with a little laugh, “with the eels.”
The housekeeper looked suitably horrified. “Oh, heavens! You must have been very brave.”
Maggie nodded solemnly.
“This is Mrs. Durrell,” said Miss Darcy. “She will be taking care of Miss Margaret. Meanwhile, if you will give me your address, and tell me who to write to, I will pen a note.”
They were about to take Margaret away. Despite what Mr. Darcy had said, after the events of the morning, Elizabeth felt afraid to let her out of her sight.
“I must stay with her,” she replied.
“Her lips are blue, poor little thing,” said Mrs. Durrell, her face kind. “We need to get her out of these wet clothes, and rub her dry, ma’am. She will be safe with us. You had better attend to yourself.”
Maggie looked at Elizabeth, trying to decide whether to go or not. Elizabeth quickly sought to reassure her.
“Mrs. Durrell will look after you, moppet. I will be upstairs, too, in another room. Just call for me if you need anything, and I will come. Now, go and get warm. You do not wish to fall ill, do you, after you have been so brave?”
Maggie shook her head.
“Good. Then off you go.”
With just a quick look backwards, Maggie walked up the stairs, her hand tucked trustingly in Mrs. Durrell’s hand. Elizabeth watched as the housekeeper talked cheerfully to the little girl and her tension dissolved. Clearly, she knew how to deal with children.
Left with no other choice, Elizabeth followed Miss Darcy as she went to fetch some ink and paper. She wrote down her uncle’s information painstakingly slowly, trying not to drip on the page and make the ink run.
“Good,” said Miss Darcy. “I shall write to Mr. Gardiner and tell him we will be sending you home by carriage. But first, I will ring for Maisie to take you upstairs to change.”
A few minutes later, a young maid appeared. By now Elizabeth was beginning to feel too tired to follow anything that Miss Darcy said to Maisy. She desperately needed to change. That was all she cared about.
“If you will come with me, ma’am, we’ll get you sorted,” said the maid, introducing herself as Maisy.
“Someone is lighting the fireplace in one of the guest bedchambers, and Miss Darcy will be up in a minute to find something from her wardrobe for you to change into. Hot water will be brought up for you to wash.”
Elizabeth was touched by everyone’s kindness. She felt guilty for causing so much trouble and for having to impose on people who did not even know her.
As the maid led her upstairs, Elizabeth was awed by the grandeur of the place. She was led to a bedchamber that was twice the size of the parlor at Longbourn. It was elegantly decorated in golden chinoiserie wallpaper with exotic birds perched on tree branches.
“I’ll bring you some towels, ma’am. I’ll just be a moment,” said Maisie, drawing an armchair closer to the fire. She gestured for Elizabeth to occupy it, curtseyed and left.
Elizabeth stayed on her feet and slapped her sides to get warm.
If she sat, she would soak the armchair through and through.
After a few minutes, she changed her mind and sat on the edge of her seat to pull off her half boots and stockings.
She was shivering. The heavy chill seemed to be seeping into her very bones.
Having accomplished that much, she stood up again, warming her hands and toes on the merry fire, drawing as close as she could without risking a burn, wishing the maid would return so she could change.
Not long after, Maisy returned, carrying a pile of towels. She was followed by another maid who was carrying items of clothing. “I am sorry for taking so long, ma’am.”
“Not at all. I have been keeping warm,” said Elizabeth.
“Would you like to choose what to wear?” The second maid laid out three dresses on the bed.
By now Elizabeth truly did not care what she wore, as long the clothes were dry.
“That one will do.” She pointed to one that was white, with a burgundy sash and a pretty burgundy print. Miss Darcy had thoughtfully supplied stays as well as a chemise.
“Let me help you undress, ma’am.”
Elizabeth went behind the silk screen in the corner of the room.
The maid undid the buttons and assisted Elizabeth as she peeled off the layers, undoing her stays, then handing her towels to wrap around herself behind the screen.
Elizabeth rubbed herself dry until her skin began to tingle, then slipped on the dry chemise.
With Maisy’s assistance, she donned Miss Darcy’s dress.
Finally, the maid handed her a pair of woolen stockings.
“The gown is too long,” said Maisie. “We can have it taken up, if you like.”
A wave of exhaustion threatened to overcome Elizabeth. “Perhaps later.”
She sank into the chair. The maid used a towel to gently pat Elizabeth’s hair.
“We can curl it once it is dry,” said Maisy. “But for now, you had better sit near the fireplace until it does. We don’t want you to fall ill after Mr. Darcy took all the trouble to rescue you.”
Mr. Darcy had saved Maggie from the water, not Elizabeth. Elizabeth was about to correct the maid, but she held back. What did it matter in any case? Mr. Darcy had been a true gentleman. Let the servants credit him with saving both her and Maggie.
Dry and snug in her new clothes, Elizabeth settled into the armchair as the maid stoked the fire.
Elizabeth basked in the warmth, she found herself drifting into sleep.
She roused herself, but moments later, she started to drift off again.
At some point the maid woke her up and handed her some warm milk.
Elizabeth drank it gratefully, then drifted back into sleep.
She was startled into wakefulness when she heard someone call her name. She jumped at once to her feet. It had to be Maggie. How long had her cousin been calling her?
The maid from earlier was sitting on a chair, keeping watch.
“Where is Maggie?” said Elizabeth, anxiously. “Oh, I did not mean to sleep! I promised Maggie I would be there if she needed me.”
“There is no need to worry. The little dear is tucked into bed and is fast asleep.”
“But she called for me.”
The maid shook her head. “I did not hear anything. I will go and check, if you like.”
Elizabeth looked towards the clock on the mantlepiece. It was almost two o’clock. “I will come with you. We need to return home in any case.”
“I’ll take you to her, but are you certain you are both well enough to leave?”
Elizabeth was indeed reluctant to leave the warmth of the fireside, but she needed to see her cousin and see for herself that she was doing well. She felt much better now. The terrible chill that was threatening to overwhelm her was gone and she was ready to face the world.
The maid stopped outside the door and gestured for her to go in.
Mrs. Durrell was sitting by Maggie’s bedside.
She smiled when Elizabeth came in and gestured for her to come closer.
Maggie looked very small and vulnerable in the big bed, and Elizabeth’s heart twisted, remembering her shock when she heard the scream then saw Maggie struggling in the water.
Elizabeth hurried to Maggie and touched her forehead to see if she had a fever. It was perfectly ordinary.
“She is none the worse for her ordeal,” said the housekeeper. “She is worn out, poor thing, but otherwise, she seems perfectly healthy so far. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t heal.”
“Thank goodness,” said Elizabeth. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking care of her. Thank you. And of course, I am very grateful to Mr. Darcy, who acted so quickly.”
“Mr. Darcy is everything a gentleman should be,” said Mrs. Durrell, gravely.