Chapter 9 #2
Elizabeth hoped she would hear from her father today.
He was a dilatory correspondent, but her news was rather tremendous.
Of course, her mother had probably told the entire neighbourhood before Darcy could even talk to her father in person.
Regardless of her parents’ approval, she would ask Darcy to bring her to Longbourn.
There was no way she could remain in striking distance of Julia if she knew who was truly about to become Mrs Darcy.
Not five minutes later, Darcy entered the library, carefully balancing a small tray as though he had never done it before. She rose to help, but he shook his head and set it down without spilling anything.
“More willow bark infusion for the patient,” he said in greeting as he poured a cup. “I asked the housekeeper to make it before she left for the races.”
“But you did not have to carry it yourself,” she insisted, taking a drink.
“I did, or rather, I chose to not inconvenience the few people here. Henry convinced his mother to give the servants an afternoon at liberty to see the Oaks Stakes.”
She suspected Darcy had guided him in the gesture. “That means I must rely on you for whatever I need today. I promise not to abuse my position of power over you.”
Darcy smiled, leant forward, and said, “I told you, I adore you, so you can do whatever you please with me.”
Her heart fluttered, and a warm feeling spread over her.
He meant nothing provocative, or at least not in this moment, but her thoughts raced back to last night.
A week ago, she would never have thought it possible that the best part of her day would be talking with Darcy, being comforted by him, and having his hands on her body.
Could she boldly tell him she wanted him to do it again as soon as possible?
She felt hot at both the hope of it and at admitting it aloud.
“I adore you, too, Fitzwilliam,” she added.
Her voice shook with nerves, but Darcy ought to know how she felt.
He smiled to hear his name. “And I am eager to do as I please with you, but even if most of the servants and guests are gone today, it would be wise to wait.”
That dark look flooded his eyes, and he took a slow breath. “We ought to leave Sunday,” he muttered.
She grinned at him and said playfully, “How improper. You are so eager to marry me that one day will make the difference?”
“Perhaps we will leave tomorrow night, after the races,” he said. “Then Sunday we can go to Longbourn’s church together for the first calling of the banns.” He took her hand. “I am eager to marry you.”
She felt her cheeks flush, but strove to appear unaffected. “I want to marry you too, but you must be secure in my feelings for you. There is no need to rush home.”
Rather than be playful in return, he looked solemn. “I have not been secure for long. I admit that my hopes were checked by a knowledge of all the things I had done wrong.”
“So were mine,” she cried. “I abused you terribly. I was such a fool to think you were proud and unpleasant.”
“Well, you will be glad to know that my pride was insufficient to conquer the belief that I was the last man in the world you would marry. And even though it was clear you did not hate me, in my wildest imaginings I feared it was too soon to overcome all the rest and ever love me.”
For all his confidence and conviction, he had been hesitant about her feelings for him.
He must admire her a great deal to be vulnerable with her and admit it.
Elizabeth took his hand and kissed it. “My feelings have undergone a gradual yet significant change, but they are as deep as yours. You are the object of my choice.” In a livelier voice, she added, “I am afraid you have to resign yourself to my loving you excessively.”
Darcy finally smiled. “Your delightful spirits, your playfulness of disposition, are bewitching to me. And now I am impatient to make you mine.”
He meant marrying her, but her mind went to other ways Darcy could make her his. But nothing could be done about either one now.
“We must keep the secret a few days longer, I am afraid. We cannot indulge in private smiles or be caught stealing a kiss in the entrance hall. Lady Metcalfe and Miss Metcalfe do not know the fate that will befall them, although Julia is suspicious. She thinks I have some unnatural hold over you and cannot understand why her arts and allurements are not working.”
A muscle in Darcy’s jaw twitched. “I do not care.”
“My good manners are taxed to conceal my vexation with Julia, and she has only been insulting me. Your forbearance with unrelenting female attention is admirable.”
He shifted his weight and looked away, as though coming to a decision. “Miss Metcalfe tried a second time to… She offered herself to me again, hoping that after an evening with her, I would want to marry her.”
Julia had grown increasingly determined as the week wore on. “And you did not want to tell me, for fear I would fly into a jealous rage and throw a vase at her?”
Darcy gave her a wry look. “I rather thought it would be distressing to hear that another woman would go to such lengths to pursue me. I hate that Sir John merely hinted that he would take you to bed for sport, but would never marry you.”
“Well, you would never succumb to Julia’s cunning, and watching a woman flatter you is not new. I saw you with Miss Bingley, after all.”
He smiled again. “But now it is different because you have some interest in my happiness.”
“A great deal of interest,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him, but a moment after their lips touched, she thought she heard a noise and turned.
“Did you hear something?” Darcy asked, standing.
“I thought I did, from there,” she said, pointing to the corner by the table and the jib-door.
Elizabeth rushed toward it, but Darcy held out a hand. “Let me go first.”
The hinges of the jib-door were installed on the back side so they could not be seen from the library.
For that reason, the jib-door opened into the room.
It had no handle on its front side so it blended in with the wall.
When Darcy opened it, she saw the back was covered in green baize to dull the noise of footsteps on the stairs.
The space was just large enough for two people to stand before meeting a narrow staircase that wound up one floor. There was a window near the bottom of the stair that must be aligned with the other windows on this side of the house.
It was quiet, and she and Darcy looked at one another, he a few stairs up and her at the bottom. They waited a long moment and listened. She supposed they had both imagined it when they heard a voice from above cry out, “Help!”
“Stay here,” he said before climbing the stairs.
Elizabeth stayed on the first few stairs, peering up as he approached the door. Then she felt a rush of air and heard a heavy thud. She spun round to see the door had shut. Another loud, solid noise against the door followed.
“Darcy!” she called, but he was already on his way down. She tried the handle, but the door would not move.
He left the stair, and there was just enough space for her to move to the side to let Darcy stand before the door. He rattled the knob but it still did not open.
“Is the lock broken?” she asked as he bent to look.
“There is no lock,” he said. He threw his shoulder into the door, but nothing happened.
Then he tugged on the knob and placed his other palm against the door.
“But I can feel it move within the frame.” He tried again to throw it open, and she tried to help him, bracing her feet against the staircase and pushing with her back.
They were breathless after a few tries. “This is futile,” he said. “Let us go up and back down through the servants’ corridor.”
Elizabeth followed him up to where there was no landing at all, only the servants’ door at the top of the stair.
“This one is locked.” He muttered a curse and stared at the door. He pounded on it and called for someone to open it until Elizabeth’s head rang from the noise.
“I think I could break the lock,” he said to himself before balancing a hand on the wall and one foot on a lower stair before kicking at the door. His back foot slipped off the stair and he caught himself at the last before falling.
Darcy tried and slipped twice more before Elizabeth cried, “Stop,” and put a hand on his arm. “The steps are too narrow, and you are too low and have no leverage. I do not need you tumbling down the stairs.”
His scowl said he knew she was right but he did not like it, and he stomped back down.
She trudged after him. “Help!” she called through the jib-door whilst rattling the knob. She yelled a few more times before giving up.
Elizabeth collapsed on a step with a sigh. Darcy stared at the jib-door as though the power of his thoughts might compel it to open. “How did it get jammed?” she mused.
“A door to help the servants move about quietly whilst doing their work will not be jammed,” he murmured to himself before trying again to heave his shoulder against the heavy, panelled door. “I think something is in front of it. Besides, it did not swing shut on its own.”
“What are you saying? Someone trapped us in here?” she cried. “Who would do such a thing, and why?”
“Not us, you,” he corrected, leaning against the door with a weary sigh. “Only the housekeeper who made your tea knew I was on my way here, but everyone knew you would stay home in the library today.”
“But you were with me when it shut.”
“You were at the bottom of the stairs, and likely your skirts still in sight of whomever ran in and shut the door. I was up the stairs looking for whoever called for help.”
Elizabeth’s frown reflected her sudden understanding. “Then two people were involved in the prank.”
“A prank?” he repeated. “You think this is a prank, Elizabeth? This is the third incident designed to harm you!”