12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Home Again
E lizabeth stepped onto the drive at Longbourn and wanted to fall to the ground and kiss it, she was that glad to be home. Her trunk was quickly pulled from the back along with Jane’s, and they led Miss Bingley into the house. Longbourn boasted two guest chambers—one nicer than the other—and those rooms were given to the gentlemen. Jane gave up her room to Miss Bingley and shared with Elizabeth.
After having been up all night, Elizabeth wished for nothing but her bed, but her mother took one look at her and demanded she have a bath before sitting on any of the furnishings. Luckily, water had been prepared, and Elizabeth quickly had a hipbath in her room. In short order, she was bathed, brushed, and tucked into bed by Mrs. Hill.
“We heard you were the one who woke all the servants at Netherfield. My sister’s girl is a maid there. We’re that grateful, Miss Lizzy.” Hill’s voice quivered as she talked, but Elizabeth was too tired to give it the attention she ought. She only smiled tiredly at Hill, then surprised the older woman by leaning in and kissing her cheek.
“I am glad I was able to help.” And then she was asleep.
When Darcy woke a few hours later, he was determined to seek out Miss Elizabeth and get the answers he needed. He found her in the breakfast room, slowly buttering a bun. Her sister Mary was present, but by the time he had filled his plate and sat down, she was gone.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Did you sleep well?” Elizabeth asked.
“I did, thank you. It was kind of your father to invite us.”
She nodded and returned her attention to her food. He couldn’t help but notice how pale her face was. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her entire body seemed to sag.
“Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? Did you inhale much smoke?”
“I did not, thankfully. I am merely tired.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked, his voice gentle.
She sighed. “I did not. I slept a little this morning, and I will retire early today. In a day or two I shall be set to rights.”
Darcy began to speak but stopped himself. He did this twice more before finally saying, “How were you aware of the fire so early? When you woke me, there was not even the smell of smoke on the second floor.”
Elizabeth kept her eyes on her plate. “I have already spoken to Sir William, the local magistrate.”
Darcy was surprised the magistrate was involved and leaned closer.
“I could not sleep and was at the window for some fresh air. I saw someone in the garden along the hedge. I thought perhaps it was a servant of the house, but then another man came running out of the house with a large bag, and the two of them ran off into the woods.”
“Did they catch the men?”
“No. They escaped during the fire. One of the Netherfield footmen was missing and had not slept in his bed. Sir William told me the butler did not trust him. It is believed he was one of the men I saw—likely the one in the house—and he knocked a candle or lamp over by mistake.”
“That would explain why he ran away so quickly instead of sneaking through the shadows.”
“Quite. When I looked to see where he had come from, I saw the study alight.”
He watched her, his dark eyes intense and unblinking. Finally, he said, “That was very lucky. If you had gone to sleep as everyone else had, or not been standing at your window at the exact right moment, things could have gone very differently.”
An image of standing helplessly on the lawn while Netherfield was engulfed in flames flashed through Elizabeth’s mind. She shuddered. “Yes, it was lucky.”
“Doubly so that you were so prepared.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“You were dressed in half boots and a walking dress. That must have made everything easier.”
She felt her face flush as he watched her.
“Though it is an interesting choice of sleeping attire, is it not?”
“I wished to take a walk after dinner, that is all.”
Her color was high as he watched her closely, knowing she lied. She knew he knew and waited nervously to see what he would say next.
“Hmm. Had Miss Bennet wished the same?”
Elizabeth’s gaze shot up to Mr. Darcy. “Jane has nothing to do with this,” she snapped.
He raised his brows at her sudden show of aggression, but she did not care what he thought of her. She would not allow Jane to be dragged into this, and she was done being baited. Clearly, things would never be what they could have been, and that was simply something she was going to have to learn to live with. It was not the end of the world. Women lost suitors every day. It did not mean another would not come along.
“Excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.” Elizabeth rose and dropped her napkin on the table, then immediately left the room.
Darcy watched her turn into a small corridor and heard a door open and close. She had gone outside. Very well. So would he.
It only took him a few minutes to find her. She was walking briskly through a little wilderness on the west side of the house, her movements jerky and agitated. “Miss Elizabeth,” he called, “forgive me for baiting you. It was badly done.”
She stood ten feet away from him with her arms wrapped around her middle, glaring at him.
“May I be direct?”
She studied him for a moment before slowly nodding. “You may.”
“I heard you in the garden, when you were speaking to your sister of dreams.” He hesitated. “Dreams of me.”
She closed her eyes.
“At first, I thought it was a ploy to trap me into marriage. Or to at least gain your sister’s assistance.”
“How would having a dream about someone trap them into marrying you?” she asked incredulously.
“I admit that conclusion was not my greatest feat of logic.”
Her lip twitched up on one side.
“I could not understand why you would say such things. It was especially upsetting because I had begun to have dreams as well.”
Her head snapped up. “What kind of dreams?”
“It began last August. I was…distressed, and I dreamt of a woman comforting me. She was kind. Warm.”
Elizabeth’s heart beat faster. “Do you remember what day in August?”
“I do.”
Her voice was barely audible. “Was it the eighth, by any chance?”
Darcy sucked in a breath. “Yes.” She could hardly hear him, but she saw the recognition in his eyes.
“I am sorry for your pain,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes, her voice sounding achingly familiar when she spoke like that.
“Are you…better now?”
“Better, though not fully recovered. Let us save that story for another time.”
She nodded. Somehow, they had come to an understanding of sorts. Mr. Darcy appeared to believe her. Or at least he did not think she was insane. “I suppose you wish to ask me some questions.”
His eyes lit up. “I do. A great many questions. But first among them is this. May I call on you?”
Her brows shot up. “You surprise me, Mr. Darcy.”
“And you intrigue me, Miss Elizabeth.” Somehow, he had closed the distance between them and now stood just in front of her.
“I do?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“Yes, you do. I would like to know you better.”
“You would?”
“Yes.” He smiled at her, amusement in his eyes. “Does that truly surprise you?”
“After the last two days, yes it does. Though perhaps nothing should surprise me anymore.”
He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “So, I may call?”
“You may. Although, I imagine it would be difficult to call when you are staying here at Longbourn.”
He smiled wryly. “You are correct. But I am certain there are other advantages to be had from such an arrangement.”
She quirked a brow. She liked this playful side to the staid Mr. Darcy. “I imagine there are.”
She should not have been surprised that Mr. Darcy had a curious mind. He was an intelligent man, after all. He had gleaned the truth of the situation surrounding the fire without her having to tell him. But that did not mean his questions were easy to bear.
He had been at Longbourn two days now, and nearly every moment he was at the house was spent at Elizabeth’s side. Mr. Bingley had proposed to Jane on the lawn at Netherfield. The fire had solidified his resolve to never live without her, and Elizabeth and Darcy were often the engaged couple’s designated chaperones. They strolled the gardens around Longbourn, they walked to Oakham Mount, and they traipsed through the surrounding forest. Often, the two couples would become separated, losing sight of each other until they returned to Longbourn’s gate, but there was nothing to be done for it.
Darcy took these opportunities to pester Elizabeth with questions. He wished to know how often she had dreams, what those dreams consisted of, and when he had begun to feature in them. He also wished to know more intimate details, like whether or not they were happy together and if they had children, but his reserve always stopped him just before he spoke the questions aloud. He did not wish to make Elizabeth uncomfortable.
Their courtship was proceeding at an alarming pace, yet neither of them felt it at all unusual. For Darcy, Elizabeth appeared to be exactly what he needed and had been secretly hoping for. After all, he had been dreaming of her for months now. Elizabeth felt as though she already knew him, for she had been dreaming of him for over four years. So it should not have been unexpected when they began calling each other by their given names at the end of their first day of courting, nor that when Mr. Bennet approached his daughter the morning of the second day and asked her what was going on between her and the quiet man from Derbyshire, she had said calmly, “I am going to marry him, Papa.”
Mr. Bennet had stared back at her, mouth agape, but he did not protest. She had a surety to her voice and manner that he had not seen since his grandmother passed five years ago. Granny used to tell him, “When a Bennet woman knows, she knows,” and that had been the end of the discussion. He would not argue with Elizabeth when she knew.
Instead, he said dryly, “Send your young man to me when he is ready. I will make certain the settlements are favorable.”
She smiled at her father and followed her suitor into the garden.
On his fourth day at Longbourn, Darcy determined he would ask Elizabeth what he truly wished to know. They were walking in the garden despite the day being gray and cold, and he finally blurted out his question. “Are we happy together?”
“I am happy right now,” she said sweetly, giving him a shy smile.
He could not help but return it, leaning towards her for a moment before catching himself. “I am as well. But I was referring to the future. Are we happy together, you and I? And do we have children?”
Her eyes widened, but she had known these questions would come. “Yes, we are wildly happy together. You smile a good deal. And you are very affectionate.” She blushed and looked away.
Darcy smiled smugly. He would be a good husband. He had always hoped he would. “And children?” he asked softly.
“Yes, there are children. I have a frequent dream with Jane. She and I are both with child, our third confinements. She has two little boys; we have a son and daughter. The son is the elder.” She smiled tentatively and, seeing his curious expression, she continued, “He is curious about the natural world and spends many hours pestering the gardeners with questions. He is also trying to train a puppy, but he is not patient enough to be successful just yet.”
Darcy chuckled.
“He looks like you.”
His eyes jumped to hers at the gentle confession. She looked shy and nervous while her fingers plucked at her skirt. He reached out to take her hand, stilling it in his. He ran his thumb over her skin, calming her.
“He has my nature, though. We go on adventures together, traipsing through the forest and falling into streams.” She smiled happily at the memory of one of her favorite dreams.
“And our daughter?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.
“She looks like me, but she has your expressions. She is quiet, like you. Her puppy is excellently trained,” she added with an impish smile.
Darcy laughed.
“She is the apple of your eye, and our son is your greatest source of pride. We are very happy, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy felt tears pricking at his eyes knowing he would have every secret wish he had ever hoped for. “Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely, “you are a treasure I do not deserve.” He gathered her to him and she came willingly—her arms stealing about his waist and holding him tight.
“Holding you in reality is much better than in a dream,” she said, her voice muffled against his coat.
Darcy stilled.
Elizabeth realized a moment too late what she had said.
“You have dreamt of…holding?”
She felt her face burning and squeezed her eyes shut. “Please do not ask me to speak of it,” she whispered. She felt Darcy sigh.
“Very well, my dear. I will not.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice and suddenly realized what he might think based on her words. She was not displeased by what she had dreamt of. She simply could not speak of it without melting into a puddle of embarrassment.
They made their way back to the house in awkward silence and separated to dress for dinner. Elizabeth hated that she had made Darcy uncomfortable and though he would not say it, she thought he seemed sad as well. She knew she had to make it right, so with great determination, she opened the locked trunk she kept in her closet and pulled out her journals.
Darcy was disappointed in his conversation with Elizabeth. He had been so happy to hear they would be a family, that he would have children of his own, and a happy wife, and a home filled with love and laughter. He had been feeling quite proud of himself. And then Elizabeth had refused to speak of her more intimate dreams and he had been filled with dread.
Was he a terrible lover? Was he selfish? Demanding? Had he failed to learn what pleased her? Did she dislike the activity?
After leaving her at the door to dress for dinner, he had gone back outside for a short walk. He did not wish to face her family at this moment. When he finally made his way to his room with barely enough time to change for dinner, he saw a small stack of books on his writing table. Curiously, he picked up the note on top of the leatherbound volumes.
Fitzwilliam,
I do not wish to leave you suffering under a misapprehension, nor do I think it fair to have such large secrets between us. The most recent volume holds the answers you seek.
All my love,
Elizabeth
Darcy ran his fingers over the soft leather. Elizabeth had told him she wrote her dreams in journals, but he had not realized how prolific she had been. There were eight volumes here, each filled with tight, neat handwriting. He picked up the first volume and opened it to see a date at the top. It began in January of that year. She must have had a great many dreams in a short time! Eagerly, he flipped to a page marked with a yellow ribbon, wondering if Elizabeth wished for him to start there.
He wrapped the ribbon around his hand and settled into the chair by the fire to read.
…His hands were gentle but insistent, and I felt my entire body suffused with heat—
There was a knock on the door and Darcy felt himself flush as he stuffed the book between his leg and the edge of the chair. Bates popped his head in and asked if he would like to prepare for dinner.
“Please make my excuses, Bates. I have business to attend to and will not be joining the family for dinner. Tell Mrs. Bennet I apologize.”
Bates nodded, clearly suspicious but too professional to say anything, and left him alone with the journal. Darcy rose and locked the door, then settled back in to read, his heart beating quickly.
When Elizabeth heard that Darcy would not be joining them for dinner due to urgent business, she hid her smile. She had no doubt he would be seeking her out later.
She was right. After her family had gone to bed, she made her way to a parlor at the back of the house, chosen for its distance from the family rooms and its relative quiet. Darcy found her there five minutes after she settled in with a book.
“Elizabeth,” he said, stopping just inside the door.
She looked up and saw an almost wild look in his eyes, one she had never seen while awake. In a moment, he was upon her. His lips pressed to hers and his arms clutched her close. She clung to his shoulders, pressing herself against him, his passion sparking an equal flame within her.
She did not know how long they stayed thus, indecorously pressed to one another on a sofa in her mother’s back parlor, but finally, he eased away from her and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, leaning back to look at her squarely.
“You know what this means, do you not?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“What?”
“Now you must marry me.”
She smiled impishly. “I was already planning to.”
“Then let us make it as soon as possible.” The glow in his eyes shifted from amusement to fervor in an instant, and she nodded, her mouth dry.
“Very well, Fitzwilliam. You may name the date.”