Chapter Eleven #3
When Elizabeth awoke alone in the room she shared with Jane, she had no idea how she had come to be there or how long she had been asleep.
The last thing she remembered was Mr. Darcy carrying her in the Old Forest. What had happened since then?
Had they questioned Mr. Wickham? Did they know the necromancer’s identity? Where was Mr. Darcy?
When she sat up, her head spun, and she had to wait for the moment to pass.
She attempted to stand, but she wobbled on her feet and bumped into the bedside table, causing a loud clatter as the candleholder fell over.
Instantly, the door sprang open, and Mr. Darcy strode in, alert for any danger.
His shoulders relaxed when he saw her. “Why are you out of bed? You should have rung the bell for help!”
Elizabeth settled back on the bed—secretly pleased with an excuse not to move—but she was a bit piqued at his tone. “Mr. Darcy, what are you doing in my sick room? This is most improper!”
His brow furrowed, as if this perfectly natural thought had not occurred to him. “You were in my sick room.”
“I was helping you to heal,” she said primly. “Have you developed some hitherto unknown healing powers?”
“No.”
“Why are you even in attendance at Longbourn?”
His reply was a bit sheepish. “I have been guarding your door.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He straightened his shoulders. “The necromancer made an attempt on your life. I do not intend to give him another opportunity.”
“So you have appointed yourself my bodyguard?” She laughed incredulously. “Have you been sleeping across my doorway with a naked sword by your side?”
He glanced away uncomfortably. “I do not have a sword.”
He does not deny sleeping across my doorway.
Elizabeth stared at him. She was the daughter of a minor country gentleman.
It was incredible that anyone wanted to abduct her, and even more incredible that anyone of consequence thought her worth saving.
Although she supposed Mr. Darcy must be grateful for her saving his life.
Perhaps he was merely returning the favor.
Yes, he had professed admiration for her, but he had also explained that he could not act on those feelings.
“Surely that is not necessary,” she said.
He grimaced. “England once had three vivomancers. The other two are…The necromancer murdered the other two when he realized they could destroy his wights.” Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth. “Your skills are of value to the entire country.”
She blinked several times. “That is so hard to credit….”
“Believe it. The Agency’s director is eager to meet you and has tasked me with keeping you safe.”
“I doubt he specified sleeping in my doorway,” Elizabeth teased.
“No.” He moved closer to the bed, a serious expression on his face. “Elizabeth, there is something I must discuss with you—”
Lydia barreled into the room. “I told you she was awake!” she said over her shoulder as Kitty followed her in.
“If I was not before, that entrance would have awakened me,” Elizabeth joked.
Not even blinking at Mr. Darcy’s presence, Lydia flounced to the end of Elizabeth’s bed and took a seat. “Lizzy, you should have accepted Mr. Collins’s proposal!”
“Why is that?”
“Then he would not have proposed to me! He sang some dreadful Irish jig! The tune was pleasant enough, but his singing—” She cringed.
Elizabeth smiled sympathetically. “I thought Kitty to be next in line for that ‘honor.’”
“I was,” Kitty said, wrinkling her nose. “My offer was set to an operatic aria. He was unable to hit the high notes…or the low ones.”
“So all of the Bennet sisters have refused him?”
“Except for Jane, but Mr. Collins is too in awe of Mr. Bingley to prevail upon her,” Lydia said.
“What will the poor man do now?”
Kitty shrugged. “He somehow wrangled an invitation to dinner at Lucas Lodge. They have a plentiful supply of daughters.”
“I believe Charlotte is tone deaf,” Elizabeth mused.
“A match made in heaven!” Kitty giggled.
“Mama must be exceedingly unhappy,” Elizabeth said.
Lydia nodded. “She says all of us have been a trial for her poor nerves, except for you.” She slid an oblique look at Mr. Darcy.
“I would think being kidnapped would have been quite a trial for her,” Elizabeth said.
Lydia bounced on the mattress. “It was, but all is forgiven now, of course.”
This was very perplexing. Elizabeth could not imagine her mother forgiving anything, especially something as reckless as being the victim of a kidnapping. “Why would—?”
But then her mother herself swept into the room. “Lizzy, I am pleased you are well again!”
“I would not say I am entirely—”
Mrs. Bennet simply continued to talk. “Doesn’t she look well today, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth stared. Her mother had never directed his attention to her before.
Mr. Darcy had sidled toward the door. “She does indeed.” His voice was a low murmur. “Perhaps I will visit the kitchen to obtain some food for Elizabeth.”
She could not blame him for desiring to escape. Her bedchamber was particularly crowded with the addition of her mother—whose approbation was nearly as alarming as her disapproval.
“Pish!” her mother exclaimed. “Kitty and Lydia can do that! It is certainly not something we would ask of guests.” She glared at her youngest daughters until they sullenly slunk from the room.
“I must speak with my cousin,” Mr. Darcy added hastily. “I might as well combine the two errands.” He gave them a brief nod and slipped through the door. Mr. Darcy was fetching food; her mother was pleased with Elizabeth. Had she awoken in some mirror version of Longbourn?
Her mother took a chair by the bedside as if settling in for a chat. Argh. My head aches, and I am bone-weary. All I want is some tea and a nap.
Still, Elizabeth was a bit curious about what had occasioned her mother’s sudden approval.
“Miss Lizzy, you are a sly one,” her mother said with a knowing smile. “Keeping this to yourself.”
Keeping what? Elizabeth guessed at the first thing that made sense. “I speculated about who Mr. Darcy works for, but he never confirmed anything.”
Her mother waved that away. “Who cares about that?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I am talking about…the engagement.”
Now Elizabeth was thoroughly confused. Who was engaged? “Did Mr. Bingley propose to Jane? I assure you I do not know—”
“No, no!” Her mother flapped her hands in irritation. “I am speaking about your understanding with Mr. Darcy. Just imagine! Ten thousand a year!”
Perhaps I myself have slipped through the mirror. There had been a glorious but furtive kiss in the garden. He had carried her in the Old Forest. Yes, Elizabeth had suffered a blow to the head, but surely she would recollect a proposal. “Mama, I assure you I have no understanding with Mr. Darcy.”
“You would not believe how he has been behaving! Guarding you night and day. Insisting that he should be the one to take care of you.”
Her mother had not been present when Mr. Darcy all but informed her that he could not marry beneath him. “He is only doing that to protect me. The Council is anxious the necromancer might attack me.”
Mrs. Bennet waved that away as unimportant. “That is simply his excuse. He and your father have already started informal discussions for the terms of your marriage contract.”
Elizabeth studied the words in her mind, but they still did not make sense. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh yes!” her mother said gaily, oblivious to Elizabeth’s confusion. “Apparently Mr. Darcy is quite generous.”
Elizabeth endeavored to calm her breathing and avoid the impulse to shout at her mother, who was, after all, not the author of this situation.
Finally, she inquired, “Mama, could you summon Mr. Darcy back here? I would like to speak with him.” She discovered she was not nearly so tired as she had been only minutes before.
Her mother stood. “Certainly. But be sure to accommodate and please him. The contract isn’t signed yet!”
While her mother summoned Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth rose from her bed and pulled on a dressing gown—armoring herself for the discourse. Although she immediately needed to return to bed. She would have preferred to be fully dressed, but simply did not have the energy.
Mr. Darcy entered a bit warily. As well he might. He set a tray with cold meat, bread, and tea on the table by her bedside.
“My mother is under the impression that you and I have an understanding,” Elizabeth said without preamble. “What might have given her that idea?”
Mr. Darcy colored and sat in the chair beside the bed, giving every appearance of collecting his thoughts.
He cleared his throat. “I refused to be parted from you. You require protection. And your family, understandably, would not permit me to remove you to Netherfield. I may have implied a secret understanding as a means of securing access to ensure your safety.”
She was familiar by now with how he left things unsaid.
“My mother related that you and my father discussed the terms of the marriage contract. That is far more than implying an understanding.”
He was looking everywhere but at her. “No agreements were reached. He merely inquired what I might have to offer my future wife and appeared satisfied with my answer.”
Anger rose through her body like a tide. Slipping from the bed, Elizabeth advanced on him. “Mr. Darcy, marriage agreements do not arise in casual conversation. I am not stupid. I do not recommend that you treat me as if I were—if you ever plan to speak with me again.”
He went quite still as he recognized the ice in her tone. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I know you are not stupid,” he finally said in a low voice. “I would not contemplate marrying you for one second if you were.”
“But recently you told me that my family’s position was too far beneath your own for you to contemplate making an offer.”
“Yesterday I was a fool!” he said viciously.
What could possibly account for such an abrupt change of heart? “Do you believe you have compromised me?” she asked. “Because I assure you that my family will not hold you to—”
“I almost lost you!” he cried.
Surprise rocked her back on her heels.
“I almost lost you,” he repeated. “For hours I knew not where you were or if Wickham had killed you. I realized nothing could compare to the pain of not having you in my life. I am desperately in love with you. I have loved you almost since the first moments of our acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “But your family—”
“My family can go hang!” Her mouth dropped open. “Georgiana and Richard will love you,” he continued in a softer tone. “If the others do not, I care not.”
He had handed her his still-beating heart, and she appreciated how vulnerable he allowed himself to be. But the discussion remained…unbalanced.
“I am honored by your admiration,” she began. His head jerked up as he recognized the shift in her tone. “But you talk as if yours is the only opinion that matters.”
His eyes were round and horrified. “W-Would you refuse me?”
“I have not been asked.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin, “To be fair, I did intend to make an offer—just not within minutes of your awaking from a head injury.”
She nodded. “Understandable.”
“However, I did not anticipate your mother’s immediately pressing the issue.”
Her mouth quirked upward. “A strategic error.”
He smiled ruefully. “Apparently.” He blinked once. Twice. “I must admit I did not give much consideration to the idea that you might refuse. My fortune. My family’s position. I have much to offer a wife.”
She regarded him sardonically. “You claim to know me. What do you think I would value from a marital union?”
The realization dawned on his face. “Love.” He made a choked noise.
Had it never occurred to him that she might not love him?
Did all wealthy men believe all women were destined to fall in love with them?
“Elizabeth, I love you most ardently….Do you love me?” The apprehension on his face was difficult to watch.
She could not bear to draw the moment out.
“Yes. I do.”
He slumped in relief. “Then—” He moved to position himself on one knee. “Elizabeth, will you—”