5. 12 November 1811 #2
He looked up again, and seeing Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and careful smile caused something inside him to shift.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning. I have come to visit my sister,” she said.
There was nobody to introduce them. Should he dare to—
His thought was interrupted as she asked, “Would you be so good as to show me to her?”
“Certainly,” he said. He took a single step towards the door that led to the stairway, but then he realised that he had no idea in what room Miss Bennet was convalescing. “Pardon me, but I do not actually know….” He walked in the opposite direction and pulled the bell rope.
“Bingley just stepped out,” he explained as he waited. “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said. Her smile had changed a bit; she looked as if she was laughing internally at his awkwardness, and he supposed that his pride should be insulted by a stranger laughing at him. Instead, he was pleased and intrigued by her genuine expression of mirth.
Mrs Nicholls bustled in. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth, I had not been told that you were here. You will want to see your sister. This way, ma’am.”
Darcy bowed again as Miss Elizabeth left, and again he was treated to the view of her muddy skirts.
As he resumed his seat, he thought, She must have walked from her home in order to attend to her sister.
Who knows how far? Certainly, from what I saw from my carriage yesterday morning, she walked at least a few miles.
He valued the kind of family loyalty that would prompt a gently-born lady to walk several miles to check on her sister. He certainly took the care of Georgiana very seriously, but he rarely saw others putting a sister, brother, or even parent ahead of their own enjoyment and comfort.
Still picturing this particular gently-born lady in his mind, Darcy wondered at his own feelings. He had seen scores of beautiful women—why was his mind and, to be honest, his body—so engaged with this particular wind-blown, mud-spattered beauty?
“Darcy?”
Realising that Bingley had reentered the room and had spoken to him at least twice, Darcy said, “Forgive me, Bingley. I was wool gathering.”
“You look as if you have seen a ghost!”
“Not at all,” Darcy said. He felt puzzled. Did he appear frightened? He explained rapidly, “Miss Elizabeth arrived to see her sister. Mrs Nicholls took her to the room.”
“Miss Elizabeth, here?”
“Yes. There was nobody to introduce us. It was awkward.”
“My apologies, friend,” Bingley said. “I have to greet the ladies; excuse me….”
He rushed away again. Darcy decided to follow, just in case his friend was about to do something terribly indecorous.
It turned out that Miss Bennet had been assigned a room diagonally across the corridor from his own. Bingley knocked at the door, an eager smile stretching across his face, and when Miss Elizabeth answered, she looked startled and immediately came into the corridor and closed the door.
“I am so sorry,” she said, apologising for nothing that Darcy could understand. “I thought you were one of the maids.”
“Miss Elizabeth, thank you so much for coming!” Bingley said, still grinning. “We are attempting to do everything we can to ensure your sister’s rapid recovery. It is so good to see you. Do you need anything? Anything at all?”
Darcy just drank in the unusual, vivacious face of the lady before them.
The corridor was fairly wide, with very high ceilings, and light poured in from two large windows at the end of the corridor.
In the light-and-shadow that lay across Miss Elizabeth’s face, he saw laughing eyes that swiftly changed to a more kindly look, and then, with one eyebrow lifting, a look of slight puzzlement.
“I have spoken with two maids and the housekeeper, and they have everything in hand, Mr Bingley. I thank you. Although, if you would like, you could introduce me to your guest.”
“Of course, of course. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I introduce to you my greatest friend, Mr Darcy. He is a relatively new friend, just a few years, really, but I consider him my greatest friend because he is the best man I know.”
Darcy felt his cheeks heat with a blush.
Miss Elizabeth bit her lower lip, attempting to curb a laugh, he imagined, and somehow the sight of her white teeth biting into her rosy lip unleashed such a surge of attraction, Darcy had to picture his censorious Aunt Catherine to curb a physical manifestation of his fascination.
He hastened to speak: “I am very pleased to meet you properly, Miss Elizabeth. I have not, as yet, met your elder sister, but I wish for her a speedy restoration of health.”
“Thank you for the well wishes, sir, and naturally I am extremely pleased to make the acquaintance of the best man Mr Bingley knows!” Her eyes seemed to twinkle like stars on a warm summer night, and Darcy felt as if he could not stop gazing at them.
Bingley said, “I hope you know that Mr Jones has been here already this morning, and that he is satisfied that your sister is currently in no danger. Have you? Heard, I mean?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr Bingley. Mrs Nicholls gave a very full report. Your entire household has been most helpful the entire eight minutes and twelve seconds I have been here.”
Darcy accidentally allowed a bark of laughter to spurt out, and he blushed anew but also composed himself with an enormous expenditure of effort.
“Now,” Miss Elizabeth murmured, “I really must get back to my sister.” She went back into the bedroom and closed the door firmly.
Following Bingley back downstairs, Darcy wondered again why he was reacting so strongly to this particular lady, this lovely lady with the mesmerising eyes, a ready wit, and the strength and familial care to walk multiple miles in the mud….
A part of him supposed that he had answered his own question.