Chapter 2
Darcy handed off his horse to the groom he had brought with him from London.
Using Netherfield servants would increase the likelihood someone in the neighborhood would discover his presence there, and that would not do.
The last thing he wanted was callers, not when he was trying to provide Georgiana with a complete retreat from society.
It would have been better to go somewhere they were both unknown, but it had been hard to find a house elsewhere on short notice at Christmas. Georgiana had wanted desperately to get away from everyone. When Bingley had offered him the secluded cottage at Netherfield, it seemed heaven-sent.
Even if it had meant disposing of Wickham's presence in Meryton, just to be on the safe side, but that blackguard's proximity to the bewitching Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been nagging at him since he had first left Netherfield.
Even if Darcy could never have her, he did not want her to fall victim to Wickham's schemes.
Fortunately it had only been a matter of sending a solicitor to speak to Wickham's colonel with evidence of his past behavior.
It had been a bonus when Colonel Forster sent for Wickham to answer the charges, and Wickham was found in flagrante with the new Mrs. Forster.
Darcy strode towards the cottage. How had Georgiana managed without him, all alone except for the maid and the cook? He had hated to leave her in such low spirits, even for half a day.
But as he opened the door, a sound came to meet him, one he had not heard in months, not since the disaster at Ramsgate and Georgiana's rapid decline afterwards. It was the sound of his sister laughing. Giggling, to be precise.
It could not be. When he had left this morning, she had been on the verge of tears, as usual. What miracle was this?
Then, as he stepped towards the drawing room, an all-too-familiar musical voice wafted past him. An unforgettable voice, one which haunted his dreams. But what was she be doing here?
She could ruin everything - even though he ached to see her.
“Will this be close enough to the hearth that you can throw the ash pail at any nasty, lying man?” Her tone was full of laughter, just as he remembered it.
“It is perfect,” Georgiana replied. “Though I still would prefer it to be pig dung.”
Pig dung? His delicate, depressed little sister was talking about pig dung to an absolute stranger?
Elizabeth’s tinkling laugh sent a rush of desire through him.
“Oh, yes, that would be better - if we do not count having to tolerate the smell of it the rest of the time. What about pouring the ashes over him, and while he is blinded by that, finding a nice, full chamber pot to empty over his head? Would that not be fitting?”
The response was another fit of giggles.
Darcy closed his mouth, which had fallen open at this remarkably odd conversation. And he could no longer help himself. He had to see her.
He sidled over to the open drawing room door.
There she was, standing on tiptoe on a tall stool, her well-turned ankles exposed as she raised her arms high to tie something to the blackened ceiling beam.
The sunlight through the window behind her outlined her shape in loving detail through the blue muslin dress.
Darcy swallowed hard. It was all he could do not to rush over, pull her into his arms, and make his secret dreams reality.
He had no business thinking of Elizabeth Bennet like this. Yet here she stood, as if they were a family decorating for Christmas, laughing with his sister. How he wished it could be true!
“There!” she cried triumphantly. “What do you think?”
He could not take his eyes off her. The woman who had so bewitched him, whom he had forced himself to leave, whom he had never thought to see again. Standing in the sunlight in all her glory, her face alight as she smiled at his sister.
He must have made some sort of noise, for Georgiana started and looked over at him. “Oh! Brother, I did not expect you so soon. Do not fear, I did not tell her my name, and she has promised to keep my presence here a secret.”
Elizabeth, still on tiptoe, turned her head abruptly towards him. Her luscious lips made a little circle of surprise - and then she lost her balance. Her arms flailed to the side, and she began to topple.
He rushed forward and caught her, lowering her until her feet rested securely on the ground. None too quickly; this remarkable taste of pleasure in holding Elizabeth Bennet in his arms would have to last him a lifetime. The warmth of her soft body sent a surge of delight through him.
Reluctantly - oh, so reluctantly - he released his grip on her. “Are you hurt?” he asked, striving to keep his voice modulated, as if this miracle was an everyday occurrence that had no effect on him.
She gave a breathy laugh, her color becomingly high.
“My dignity is severely sprained, but I am otherwise unharmed.” With a droll expression, added, “How mortifying! That of all the young ladies I might encourage to imagine throwing ill-behaved men into the pig slops, I chose your genteel and well-bred sister. I am clearly a bad influence, and should take my leave instantly in order to limit the damage.”
“Oh, no!” Georgiana cried. “I have so enjoyed our conversation. Truly, Brother, she has been everything that is kind to me – and delightful company, too.”
“I thank you for your spirited defense! Unfortunately for me, your brother is already well aware of my many sins, and knows a great deal to my disadvantage,” Elizabeth said with mock ruefulness. “He already thinks me ill-bred and prone to improper behavior.”
Darcy could not help but smile. How he had missed crossing verbal swords with her! “Fear not, Georgiana. Miss Elizabeth Bennet finds great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not her own.”
Georgiana's eyes grew wide. “Oh, no! You know each other? And this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who you mentioned in your letters to me?”
Elizabeth dropped a curtsey. “Guilty as charged, m'lord. But you may keep calling me Helena if you wish.”
“Helena?” he asked, baffled.
She tilted her head with a teasing look.
“Your sister quite properly would not reveal her name to me, but it would have been terribly rude to call her 'whoever you may be.
' Since we were traipsing through the woods like the young ladies in A Midsummer Night's Dream, we decided she would be Hermia and I Helena. I think your sister makes quite a delightful Shakespearean heroine, do you not agree?”
Darcy would have agreed to change his own name if it made her lovely eyes sparkle like that. “I hope I will not have to play the part of Bottom the Weaver, with the head of a donkey.”
She waved her hand. “No, we are saving our venom today for blackguards and cads, so you are perfectly safe from us. But I believe I have quite overstayed my welcome here, so I will take my leave. I have already promised your sister that I will tell no one of her presence here, and I will happily extend that to you as well.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially.
“After all, any mention of it would reflect much worse on me! Especially as our acquaintance started with your sister discovering me in the act of larceny.”
“For shame, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in an air of mock disapproval. “What did you steal?”
She gestured to the basket on the side table. “Sprigs of the magical Netherfield mistletoe. And a few branches of greenery, which are now on your mantel, making you an accessory to my crime.”
“A terrible crime indeed, but I may be able to persuade Bingley not to prosecute you. Just this one time.” He could not resist prolonging the conversation - anything to prevent a final goodbye.
Even this brief reprieve of basking in her presence for a few minutes had brought a part of him back to life, blossoming in the mid-winter.
Georgiana said timidly, “You are not angry that I spoke to her? Or that we put up greenery, even after I said I wanted nothing to remind me of Christmas? Helena - I mean, Miss Bennet says that the greens are a reminder that spring will come again, no matter how dark and cold it is now.” She hesitated.
“It was not all about dunking gentlemen in pig dung.”
“On the contrary, I am delighted you found Miss Elizabeth. I will go so far as to agree with her, that there are some men who would benefit greatly from having a much closer acquaintance with pig dung.”
Elizabeth gave him a sly look. “Though I daresay you might avoid saying so in public, and to a complete stranger.”
“Perhaps so,” he acknowledged, “but if I recall my Shakespeare, Helena and Hermia were dear friends of many years standing, not strangers at all.”
“There you have it. We were just staying in character, were we not, dearest Hermia?”
Georgiana moved for the first time, coming forward to link her arm with Elizabeth's. “You are right, my old friend Helena.” And once again, she laughed. “Pray, Brother, may Miss Bennet stay for refreshments? Mrs. Hudson is making tea.”
“I would be honored to have her company.” And if Georgiana actually ate a bite of the various delicacies the cook provided to tempt her absent appetite, Darcy might get down on his knees and beg Elizabeth to join them for every single meal.
If he could get over his jealousy that his sister had the right to touch Elizabeth when he did not.
“Then I will be glad to remain, if only to further the discussion of the relative merit of pig slops, cow dung, and middens as suitable punishment. I feel I have a great deal to learn on this subject.” And her eyes danced again.
“Oh, I simply cannot decide! Which is your favorite, dearest Hermia?” Elizabeth asked Miss Darcy over the tea tray.
“Pray, will you not take a taste of these two and let me know which I should choose?” It was not something she would normally say, but given the girl's nearly skeletal appearance, the presence of no less than three cakes on a simple tea tray, and the cook's earlier look of shock and delight when Miss Darcy had requested it, it seemed some encouragement was in order.
She had seen people in a decline before.
“Oh, I am certain they are all good,” Miss Darcy said hesitantly.
“And you have no appetite, I imagine. Nor do I, to be honest, after my great disappointment. But I refuse to let the cad who deceived me make me ill as well, so I am going to eat this cake to spite him, even if it tastes bad in my mouth. In fact, I think I will take two slices, just to show him how little he matters to me.” She could not believe she was airing her own disappointment in front of Mr. Darcy, of all people.
At least he could not possibly guess that she was speaking of his steward's son, the one who had been so freely maligning him.
Though perhaps she should rethink the accusations Mr. Wickham had made against Mr. Darcy, given all the other lies he had told.
The idea made her squirm inside. How could she have been so gullible?
Even that awful Caroline Bingley had warned her against Mr. Wickham, and she had deliberately closed her ears to it.
Well, a tiny bit of good might come out of her humiliation if she could use it to strengthen this poor, suffering girl.
Darcy was watching her with a grave expression. “In a spirit of moral support, I will match your two pieces of cake. I would like one of both the almond and the plum cake, Georgiana, if you please.”
Georgiana giggled. “That is only because you adore cake.”
“Shh. You are giving away my secrets.”
Elizabeth tried not to gape. This was a side of Mr. Darcy she had never seen before. Did his sister bring out the best in him?
There might be more to him than she had thought.