Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
E lizabeth startled awake with a gasp. As with her previous dream of Anne, the experience had been so vivid as to seem entirely corporeal, despite its fantastic qualities. Returning to reality was rather like being dunked into an icy cold bath; it stole one’s breath and incited a great deal of shuddering.
The baby apparently shared her feelings. Elizabeth pressed her hand to her swelled abdomen and absently soothed her unborn child. Against all probability, it settled into a lazier fluttering.
“Elizabeth?” Beside her, Darcy struggled to prop himself up on his elbow. The covers slipped from his bare shoulders, favouring her with an enticing view. His form was especially tantalising in the contrast provided by early morning light, each muscle more deeply defined by dusky shadows. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing, my love. Merely another dream.” She shivered involuntarily.
“Get back under the covers to tell me about it. You must be freezing.” Darcy reached for her and tugged her closer.
Recalling her own nudity, Elizabeth willingly submitted to her husband’s urging. She laid back and curled up to his chest, resting her head within the comforting shelter provided by the crook of his shoulder. She supposed they ought to rise soon and begin the day, but she was not yet inclined to do so. They had been secreted away in their own private haven since yesterday afternoon, following the harrowing incident in Lady Catherine’s Throne Room, at first to redress a few problems between them, then to…reestablish their marital connexion. Thoroughly.
After several hours of indulging themselves, Darcy had ventured out to meet with Fitzwilliam, who had been left in charge of setting the drawing room to rights and seeing to the needs of those affected. Nichols had been called upon for his services and, after declaring Mr Collins ‘well enough’ to proceed home in the pony cart where his wife could tend to him, he had provided laudanum for the overwrought Lady Catherine. As their hostess had been sedated and Fitzwilliam did not require any assistance, Darcy had then returned to Elizabeth with the news.
Once she was resettled, Elizabeth said, “I am sorry for waking you. I know you did not sleep well.”
A snicker rumbled beneath her ear. “I did not sleep for long, it is true, but the repose I had was deep and restful. I dearly wish you could say the same. Will you tell me of your dream?”
“I would not want to upset you. ”
Beneath her, Darcy stiffened. “Why should your dream upset me?”
“I dreamt of…your cousin.”
“Fitzwilliam?”
“Anne.”
“Anne?” He sounded startled.
“Yes. I suppose coming here, witnessing your grief over her death, has put her in mind. I have dreamt of her the last two nights.”
“And these dreams were…frightening? I can imagine how they might be, given recent events. After seeing her laid out, then attending her burial, I have been assaulted by a few troubling fancies myself. It is entirely common, but you must dismiss them from your mind. Even in life, Anne meant no harm to anyone.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, you mistake me. The dreams are not frightening, per se. It is only a little disturbing to see someone so recently deceased—someone I hardly knew—visiting me in that manner. I almost feel as if…”
“As if?”
“It is too ridiculous. Forget I said anything.”
“I could never find you ridiculous.” At the poignant rise of her brow, Darcy laughed and amended, “I could never find your concerns ridiculous. Allow me to share your burden.”
Breathing deeply, Elizabeth confessed, “I feel as if Anne is attempting to tell me something, though of course I have no notion what.”
Darcy merely stared at her, blinking slowly as if suddenly awoken from a heavy slumber .
“There! See? I knew you would think me ridiculous. I should never have told you.”
Keeping the counterpane securely pressed to her upper half, Elizabeth wriggled out of her husband’s embrace, only to be forestalled by a strong forearm looped about her waist. He allowed her to squirm ineffectually and abuse him with empty threats for several moments before pinning her to the bed and swooping in for a kiss. Thoroughly distracted, Elizabeth allowed him to continue, and the familiar stirring of passion that arose from their playful combat consumed her.
It was some time later that they both collapsed against the sheets again, sweaty and breathless from their exertions. Darcy elevated himself upon the point of his elbow, rested his chin against the prop of his hand, and looked down at her with a silly grin. “Have I eased your troubles, my love?”
Elizabeth giggled. “You have, indeed. I applaud your methods, sir, for they are most effectual.”
Darcy pressed his smiling mouth to hers in another sweeping kiss, one more tender than ardent, and drew her closer. Upon breaking the kiss, Elizabeth resumed her position against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. “We never did finish our conversation yesterday.”
“I disagree. I thought it concluded quite well.”
Slapping playfully at his chest, Elizabeth corrected herself. “I meant that we never discussed how we mean to go on. I understand your anxieties, but you cannot continue to treat me like a delicate china teacup that is liable to break with every slight touch. You will drive me mad and have to visit me and our child in Bedlam.”
“Nonsense, I can easily afford a private nurse.” Another light slap induced him to become more serious. “Obviously, I would not wish to risk inducing your insanity, but you must acknowledge that greater care ought to be taken while you carry our child.”
“You take your protectiveness too far. I am pregnant, not ill, and can do much of what I have always done—walking, for instance. The midwife encouraged me to keep at it for my health and the health of the baby. She says it will give me strength when it comes time to deliver.”
Darcy’s hand, which had been caressing her, stilled at the mention of childbirth but resumed its sweet ministrations after only a short pause. The baby nudged lightly at his fingers, and he smiled. “If you say that you are hale enough to continue with your daily constitutionals, then I suppose I must believe you. And yet, you are always so fatigued in the evenings that I assume you require more rest than you did before.”
“I do, but I am always full of energy early in the morning—that much has not changed about my habits. If I flag towards the end of the day, it does not necessarily follow that I must lie abed at the beginning of it. Truly, I shall expire of tedium if you continue to keep me cooped up in our bedchamber.”
Darcy allowed himself a smirk before sobering. “You have always been a strong walker, and I know it brings you much pleasure, so I shall trust your judgment of your own exhaustion. However, it is less the exercise that concerns me and more the chance that you might meet with some calamity. I would greatly prefer it if you do not walk out alone.”
She cuddled closer with a light sigh. “I suppose I can accommodate you there. Might you be willing to be my walking partner?”
“As often as I am able,” he agreed with a kiss to her forehead. “That will not always be the case, but I shall rearrange my obligations to accommodate your needs as much as possible. When I am not free, I ask that you take a servant with you—a footman, even a maid, would provide the oversight I am seeking. Should you face any sort of danger, they can assist you back to safety and fetch help.”
“For you, I shall endure it, even though I prefer solitude on my walks. Will you also stop pushing me to eat more?”
“You require proper nourishment, Elizabeth. I only mean to help.”
Elizabeth cupped his chin within her palm, her eyes softening. “I know you do. Allow me to partake of what I can and in the amounts I can stand. I have found over the last few months that I am at my best when I eat several smaller meals rather than one large.”
“I suppose that is a fair concession. You are the best arbiter of your own needs, and I shall do my best to respect that.” Darcy turned his face to press a kiss into her palm. “That said, should you ever require a greater degree of cosseting, do let me know, and I shall happily indulge you.”
“I shall remember that when my feet begin to swell.”
“I am, as ever, at your service.”
Eventually, Elizabeth and Darcy conceded to the necessity of greeting the day. They met Fitzwilliam in the breakfast room, though Lady Catherine was still nowhere in evidence.
After settling Elizabeth in a chair and procuring her delicacies from the buffet—after first ensuring he was selecting the items she desired and in the proper amounts—Darcy sat down next to her with his own plate. “How fares our aunt this morning?”
“I cannot say, for I have not heard a peep from her yet,” replied Fitzwilliam, refilling his cup. “Then again, laudanum is potent stuff. It would not surprise me if we do not hear from her until the afternoon.”
Darcy unfolded his napkin and draped it over his knee as he said, “I suppose it would do her good to rest. In the meantime, what shall we entertain ourselves with?”
“I should like to go walking, if you are inclined to escort me,” said Elizabeth, her mouth turning up coyly.
Darcy snickered at her. “I suppose I ought to have anticipated as much. After breakfast?”
“That should suit. I am anxious to call at the parsonage. I cannot imagine that Mr Collins is a forbearing patient, and I should like to offer Charlotte any services she requires for his care. He was injured at Rosings, after all, and it is our duty to see that he is made as comfortable as possible in his recovery—and to ensure that he does not drive his wife to Bedlam during his convalescence.”
Fitzwilliam joined Darcy in laughing at the picture she painted of the long-suffering Mrs Collins and her insufferable charge. “You are a compassionate woman, Mrs Darcy. My cousin does not deserve you.”
“I shall not quibble with you there, for you are perfectly right,” Darcy conceded with a smirk. “However, she is stuck with me now, for better or worse, so I must do what I can to earn my place.”
Elizabeth shook her head at the pair of them before picking up her fork and resuming her breakfast.
From her bedchamber window, Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes at the retreating figures of her nephew and his artful wife as they strolled away from the manor hand in hand. It was disgusting how the girl continued to play the coquette with Darcy even after they were married. She is already carrying his child—she ought not to try so hard. It is pathetic.
Somewhere along the hall, Lady Catherine heard that blasted bell jangle again. It did so at least thrice, and she turned to glower at the closed double doors that separated her chambers from the corridor, contemplating whether she ought to investigate the source of the infernal ringing. It had done her no good before; she was always led into Anne’s chamber only to find it conspicuously empty.
Deciding that she was still too fatigued from the laudanum Nichols had prescribed her the prior evening, she sniffed and crossed to her dressing table where a small wooden chest sat beside a tall vase of daffodils. She stroked the lid fondly. “I shall take care of that upstart soon enough. Even if I cannot see Anne wed to Darcy, there is no reason I must allow an unworthy chit to usurp her place. It is the least I can do.”
That annoying bell rang again, more tenaciously, and Lady Catherine turned to glare at the doors. She would not achieve a moment’s peace until she determined the source of that racket; not knowing was absolutely maddening.
Her pursuit of the mystery was forestalled by the stool tucked beneath her dressing table. Seemingly of its own accord—though she must have caught it with her foot without realising—it slid into her path and tripped her up. She squawked and flapped in an undignified fashion but found herself unable to arrest her fall; down she went, straight to the unforgiving hardwood floor with an audible crunch. When she attempted to right herself, a searing pain shot up her leg, and she cried out.
All the while, the mysterious bells jingled a merry tune.