CHAPTER 7
“Silly things do cease to be silly if they
are done
by sensible people in an impudent way.”
by sensible people in an impudent way.”
Jane Austen, Emma, 1815
The morning Darcy left for Hull, Elizabeth grieved
before his carriage even departed Pemberley’s grounds. Against
propriety, she embraced him in the courtyard while he waited for
his luggage to be secured. He clutched her to him, and Elizabeth
rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and whispered
endearments as he supervised the proceedings. “Elizabeth,” he
encouraged her to withdraw,“I must leave, my Love.”
Elizabeth knew her very public display of affection
would be the talk of the servant quarters this evening, but feeling
bereft of Darcy’s warmth before he even left the grounds, she cared
not. “Fitzwilliam, please do not go,” she pleaded.
“There is nothing of which to worry,” Darcy
cautioned her. “I stay with Lord and Lady Pennington in Nottingham
this evening. Perhaps they may tell me more about Captain
Rutherford than we already know. I travel to Hull tomorrow. I swear
to be home within the week,” he reassured her.
“But Fitzwilliam,” she began, “do you not feel it,
too? Surely if I feel it, you do also. Something is amiss.”
Elizabeth’s words held her fears.
Darcy reached out and caressed her cheek and then
lightly kissed her lips. “It pleases me you will so miss me, my
dearest Elizabeth.”
“How may I survive without you? It is not fair; you
make me depend so dearly upon you, and then you leave me, Sir.”
Elizabeth nearly pouted.
“I shall think of you every moment, my Love. I
cannot imagine my life without you as my wife. I shall hurry back
to once again be in your arms.” Darcy lifted her chin and lightly
brushed her lips with his.Then he quickly got in the carriage,
rapped on the roof with his walking cane, and left.
Yet, he could not leave without looking back at
her, standing in the circular carriageway, tears streaming down her
face. Darcy ached at having to leave. He spent nearly a year
earning Elizabeth’s love and leaving her side, even for a few days,
seemed an incomprehensible act.
Elizabeth watched the retreating coach. The
distance between them increased by the second until only silence
remained. Reluctantly, she turned toward Pemberley, finally
entering the foyer. “He is gone,” she said to Georgiana when they
met in the drawing room.
“Fitzwilliam will return soon. He loves you,
Elizabeth; my brother will not tarry in Hull.” Georgiana smiled at
seeing Elizabeth so distraught.
“I know I am being foolish, Georgiana, but I feel I
may never see Fitzwilliam again.” Elizabeth sat down in Darcy’s
favorite chair, touching the arms of it as the emptiness overtook
her heart.“Please be safe, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.
Darcy spent the night at Lord and Lady Pennington’s
estate. “We are pleased you are back so soon, Fitzwilliam,” Lady
Pennington told him over dinner. “Why do you travel to Hull
tomorrow?”
“I have important business.”
“What kind of business could take you from your
bride so soon?” His Lordship asked in an amused manner.
“May I be discreet?”
“Of course,” Lord Pennington said quickly and then
dismissed the servants in the room.
Darcy waited patiently until only they remained.“I
travel to Hull because it came to my attention your former guest
Captain Rutherford has on more than one occasion questioned my
sister regarding our family’s interest in Mr. Harrison. Harrison
believes the captain to be a dangerous individual.”
Lady Pennington gasped,“This cannot be,
Fitzwilliam!”
“I hope you are correct, Lady Margaret. Yet, I must
find out what others know of the captain. If he simply opposes Mr.
Harrison’s views, I want to know. If the captain has more
aggressive ideas, I must be aware of those also.”
“How is Mr. Harrison a factor in Georgiana’s
future?” Lady Margaret asked.
“Harrison spent nearly a month at Pemberley
learning how to run Hines Park. He expressed an interest in
Georgiana, but Mrs. Darcy insisted the man wait until after
Georgiana’s next birthday to openly express his intentions.
Elizabeth feared we knew too little of him.”
“Your wife is very astute,” Lord Pennington
remarked, and Darcy nodded in agreement.
Darcy returned to his retelling. “Mr. Harrison has
very strong beliefs about the slave trade; he sold off his father’s
holdings in the Americas because of his beliefs. Although I am not
so politically inclined, I admire Mr. Harrison for his fortitude
and his integrity. Yet, I do not wish to place my sister in
danger.”
“Then you believe Georgiana returns Mr. Harrison’s
interest?” Lady Pennington inquired.
“Elizabeth believes as such, and she has
Georgiana’s confidences. They are quite close.”
“Then we, too, will make ourselves more aware of
Captain Rutherford’s associates,” Lord Pennington stated.
Darcy asked,“Then you know little of him?”
“An acquaintance from Leeds recommended the
captain,
with the understanding he was also familiar to Edward,” Lady
Margaret shared. “We know his father, although not well. He has a
reputation for being quite ruthless; we were pleasantly surprised
to find the son to be so amiable.”
“The apple does not fall far from the tree,” Darcy
said with a degree of irony.“Could the captain’s appearance be a
façade?”
Lord Pennington answered,“Anything is
possible.”
“May I ask your Lordship if you think of anything
of which I should be aware, you will send word to me at
Pemberley?”
“Then you will not return here after you leave
Hull?” Lady Margaret asked.
“Under the circumstances, I believe it best if I go
to Leeds to ascertain what I can of the captain and his father the
Earl,” Darcy mused.
Lord Pennington agreed thoroughly,“You are correct,
my boy.”
The evening finished with the three of them sharing
every conversation they had with Captain Rutherford. Darcy departed
early the next morning for Hull, concerned more than ever with his
sister’s safety and the mystery surrounding the “amiable” Captain
Rutherford.
North of Hemswell, Darcy’s coach came to an abrupt
halt along an isolated stretch of road. At first, he knew not what
happened, but as Darcy opened the coach door, a long gun greeted
him, and he immediately knew the precarious position in which he
found himself. His coachman and a postilion stood with their hands
raised as three armed men moved them gingerly away from the
coach.
“There be no killin’ if ye do what we say,” one of
the men called out. Another of the men began to rummage for
valuables and weapons found upon the coach, tossing trunks along
side of the road.
“Take what you want, but leave my men alone,” Darcy
ordered the man holding the gun on them.
“Ye stand back,” the man ordered and leveled a gun
at Darcy’s face.
Darcy stepped back, allowing the man access to the
coach. The belongings could be replaced; a man’s life could not.
Once the robbers took what they wanted from the coach, they
motioned for Darcy to move off toward the woods.
Darcy demanded,“You have what you want. Leave us
alone.”
“We think ye oughter be askin’ for mercy,” the man
laughed.
Darcy realized quickly the robbery might not be the
whole purpose of this detainment. He edged back; in the past he
might take a chance, but with Elizabeth and the baby in his life,
he took a more cautious approach. “What else do you need from me?”
he asked softly.
The man asserted,“Ye be askin’ too many
questions.”
“Questions about what?” Darcy began to look around,
trying to determine what should be his next course of action.
The third man warned,“Aye’m not done w’ye.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw the
coachman take a step to the side; he tried to warn the man with a
nod of his head, but it was too late.The coachman lunged at the
shortest of the attackers, and the melee began. The postilion died
instantly, a bullet to his head. Darcy saw it, although he had no
time to focus on the act, for he struggled with two of the men. The
blows came hard and fast; Darcy fought valiantly, but the men’s
combined strength proved too much for him.
As if in slow motion, Darcy felt the robber’s fist
strike him under the chin. His jaw jammed shut, and the blood
spurted from Darcy’s mouth as he bit his own tongue.The blow spun
his head around, forcing him to turn awkwardly in place; losing his
balance, he found himself falling backwards. When his head hit the
rock, the pain immediately came, and the blood gushed from the
gash. He tried desperately to raise his body from where it lay, but
try as he may, all Darcy could do was to roll to his side.
He saw the men shoot the coachman and climb onto
their horses to retreat, but he could make no sense of what else
happened.A fourth well-dressed man bent over him.“You will not need
these items.” The man hissed as he took Darcy’s walking stick and
diamond stickpin. “Nor this.” The man ripped the ring bearing the
family crest from Darcy’s finger.
“No,” Darcy moaned loudly, trying to resist the
man’s thievery.
Then the filcher strode to the horse awaiting him.
Mounting, he looked back at Darcy lying on the ground and tipped
his hat to him.The man’s blond, tight curls glistening in the late
afternoon was all Darcy could decipher; riding tall in the saddle,
the man took the lead. The rest became a haze, and Darcy lay
without moving. “Elizabeth,” he whispered as his eyes closed—“my
dearest Elizabeth.”
When the Donnelly coach came upon what was left of
Darcy’s chaise and four, Darcy had lain along the road for nearly
twenty hours. He moved very little, the blow to his head keeping
him from being mobile. He expected to die there along this deserted
path on more than one occasion during those first few hours, but
somehow he maintained his hold on life.
“Miss Donnelly,” the steward said, coming to the
window of the stopped coach, knocking on the window with a gloved
hand.
“Yes, Mr. Lansing.”The lady turned to her faithful
aide.
“Madam, evidently there was a robbery.”
The lady gasped,“Is anyone hurt?” She could see the
clothing strewn on the ground.
“Two people are dead, Madam, but Walton reports
they found a gentleman. He is injured, obviously losing a
substantial amount of blood.”
“Should I attempt to go to him?” The woman looked
uneasy at this possibility.
“Madam,” Lansing began again, “the scene is too
much—far too much for a lady of your delicate nature—a lady such as
yourself should not be exposed to such sights.”
“What must we do, Mr. Lansing? I must perform my
charitable duty; we cannot leave the gentleman to die. Should we
not bring the man to safety?”
The man seemed relieved his mistress made the
suggestion first. “Walton and a footman could wrap the gentleman in
a blanket, but that would mean placing him on the floor of the
coach. Would that be acceptable, Madam? We could leave the window
of the coach open. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise
the gentleman could pay with his life.” Mr. Lansing knew his
mistress’s preoccupation with cleanliness.
“Of course, Mr. Lansing.” She took a handkerchief
from the sleeve of her dress.“I will be able to endure what is
necessary to save the man’s life.” Her hand shook and her lip
quivered with the thought of the man’s dirty body lying within the
coach.
Mr. Lansing handed her a bottle of smelling salts.
“In case you are feeling poorly, Madam.”
“Bring the gentleman to the coach. Also, retrieve
as many of his belongings as seem appropriate,” she ordered at
last.
“Yes, Madam.” Lansing bowed as he left.
A footman and the lady’s coachman carried the man’s
body between them, supporting his long limbs under his knees and
shoulders. It took them several attempts to wrestle Darcy’s body
onto the floor of the Donnelly coach, where he lay like a freshly
caught fish. Before they wrapped his body in the blanket spread on
the floor of the coach, Miss Donnelly ascertained the injured man
to be a man of consequence, but dried blood and dirt covered his
face, obscuring his identity.
“We return to the estate, Walton,” she told the
coachman. “We will get the gentleman a proper doctor; the local
villages have no one to attend him.”
“Yes, Madam.” The coachman replaced his gloves.
“The
new doctor arrived two weeks ago; I am sure he will be pleased to
be of service to you.”
“Remind Mr. Lansing to speak to the doctor before
he enters Darling Hall,” she instructed the coachman.
“I will do so, Madam. We will begin immediately.”
The coachman closed the door. Once they loaded the gentleman’s
luggage onto her coach, Miss Donnelly covered her mouth with the
handkerchief to block the man’s repugnant smell and pulled her feet
closer to her body; then she rapped on the roof of the coach to
start for home.
The movement of the coach roused the man somewhat.
“Elizabeth,” he moaned from his parched lips. For a moment, Miss
Donnelly thought the stranger called her name, but he did not open
his eyes nor did he move on his own. Instead, the man’s body rocked
back and forth with the movement of the carriage. It took Miss
Donnelly nearly an hour and a half to reach her estate. The journey
with the invasion of her private space by the man’s body seemed
interminable for the lady. She fought back the unladylike
involuntary spasms her stomach demanded; she shielded her eyes from
the sight of his badly beaten body, and she silenced her ears to
his moans of pain. As much as possible, Miss Donnelly treated the
man as if he did not exist.
Reaching Brigg, the Donnelly coach turned for
Darling Hall, the family estate. Since the demise of her parents,
the estate belonged to Elizabeth Donnelly. No male cousins existed
for several generations, and Miss Donnelly’s parents had the
foresight to provide her with an additional legal binding—a sort of
codicil.The estate belonged to her until the time of her death.
However, if Miss Donnelly chose to marry before her eight and
twenty birthday, she would inherit an additional fifty thousand
pounds. Of course, the second option would be society’s preferable
choice, as well as hers. Although not grand in
scale, the estate could provide an adequate living if handled
properly. Unfortunately, of late, it experienced several monetary
losses, and Miss Donnelly secretly sold off artwork, furnishings,
and tapestries to pay the taxes and to meet her extravagant
expenses.
In appearance, Miss Donnelly’s beauty seemed an
asset in attracting men, and the estate served as a second means of
securing an appropriate mate.The woman possessed excellent manners
and correct opinions; yet, she did not stir interest with social
circles and the ton. She had peculiar habits, which many men
could not tolerate even in a woman with wealth and beauty as her
“selling” points.
Arriving finally at Darling Hall, the footman and
coachman unloaded Darcy’s body. “Mr. Lansing, place the gentleman
in the blue suite and have Mr. Logan fetch the new physician.Tell
the stable staff to clean the coach thoroughly. If necessary,
remove and replace the upholstery within the coach. The fulsome
smell of the gentleman’s body must be obliterated; I will not
tolerate the man’s presence and his blood and his body fluids
soiling my coach. I want all his clothing washed properly; if the
items are stained beyond repair, burn them. Once the physician
tends to him, please have the gentleman cleaned properly. Of
course, you know what to do with his bedclothes.”
“Yes, Madam,” the steward bowed.
“Although the man is injured, I will not tolerate
his bringing his dirt into my house,” she demanded.“Tell Julian to
clean these steps once again.”
“I will speak to him, Madam.”
“Finally, tell Mildred I wish a bath
immediately.”
The man smirked when his mistress looked the other
way. “I am sure she prepares one as we speak.”
Irritated, she said,“You are dismissed, Mr.
Lansing.”
“Yes, Madam.”The steward made his final bow.
Miss Donnelly entered the drawing room of Darling
Hall. Before she took a seat, the lady walked about the room,
touching the various items, inspecting them and looking carefully
at her glove after each touch. When she came to the figurines along
the mantelpiece, Miss Donnelly frowned and reached for the bell
cord. “Did you ring?” The housemaid curtsied when she entered the
room.
Miss Donnelly did not answer; she simply stood with
her gloved index finger extended. “I will address it immediately,
Miss Donnelly, and I will speak to the new maid regarding her
duties,” the servant stammered.
“Do so or both of you will be seeking new
positions,” the mistress threatened.
The older woman dropped her eyes. “Yes,
Madam.”
“I expect this to be cleaned thoroughly by the time
I return,” the lady demanded before exiting to her chambers.
Nearly three hours later, the steward found Miss
Donnelly at her embroidery in the newly cleaned drawing room. “Miss
Donnelly.” He tapped lightly at the door before entering.
“Yes, Mr. Lansing,” she spoke as the man entered
the room. “Has the physician seen the gentleman? What news does he
give about the man’s health?”
“The physician came and went, Miss Donnelly.The
gentleman, as we suspected, lost a good deal of blood.The doctor
says with the blood loss and his head injury, the man is likely to
sleep several days. Mr. Addison fears some mental functions may be
affected. I placed Conrad in the man’s room to observe his progress
and meet his needs.The staff is cleaning the gentleman and his
room. Mrs. Lewis cleaned his clothing as you specified.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lansing. I may try to visit the
gentleman later.”
“Yes, Miss Donnelly.”
For five days Fitzwilliam Darcy lay on the fine
bedclothes of the blue suite at Darling Hall. He had no visitors,
including Miss Donnelly, attended only by an old servant named
Conrad. The physician called daily; the servants cleaned the room
daily; the steward James Lansing reported to his mistress
daily.
To say Miss Donnelly did not visit the gentleman
would be a fabrication. The first night he lay unconscious on the
pillows of the blue suite, Miss Donnelly’s curiosity got the best
of her judgment. So, in the middle of the night, she left her
bedchamber and stole down the dimly lit hallway to the man’s room.
She knew the rest of the household slept, and she would go
unnoticed.
Conrad snoozed on the pallet in front of the
fireplace. Miss Donnelly knew he would not stir unless she did
something foolish. With a gloved hand, she gingerly turned the
door’s handle and slipped into where the man slept. All day long
she wondered what he looked like. His body she recognized in the
coach to be physically pleasing. Could his countenance, once
smeared with blood and dirt, prove as attractive?
Taking the candle to light her way, Miss Donnelly
tiptoed to where the gentleman lay. It took only seconds for her
eyes to adjust to the shadows lying across his face. A slight gasp
of excitement slipped from her lips before she allowed herself a
smile of recognition. She met him only once in London. She attended
a private party at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Hurst, friends
of a distant cousin. It was a little over a year ago, shortly after
Christmas. They spoke cordially to each other several times during
the evening, and she thought the man seemed interested in her; but
shortly after their introductions, he withdrew within himself, and
the evening ended on a sour note. The man reclining on the pillows
in her blue suite was Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“Miss Donnelly, you sent for me, Ma’am?” Mr.
Lansing entered the study.
She looked up from the letter to which she
attended. Miss Donnelly took the time to blot the ink and seal the
letter with wax before she acknowledged the man standing in
attendance to her. “Have a seat, Mr. Lansing.” She pointed to a
high-backed chair placed at an angle to the desk.
The man leaned back in the chair, glad to have a
moment to rest.“Is there a problem, Miss Donnelly?”
She took a folded piece of paper from the drawer
and slid it across the desktop to Lansing.
He leaned forward, removed his gloves, and picked
up the page while eyeing the estate’s mistress. Inside the folded
paper he found fifty pounds. A knowing smile overtook his face.
“Miss Donnelly, how generous of you.”
“It is my way of thanking you for helping me save
my cousin Frederick’s life.” The lady nodded, knowing he would
understand the subtext of this conversation.
“Your cousin Frederick.” He repeated the words as
if committing them to memory.
“Yes, my cousin Frederick—the one we found on the
road and brought back to Darling Hall so he and I might marry.” The
corners of her mouth turned upward.
Lansing’s eyes sparkled with mischief.“The cousin
to marry so you inherit the additional fifty thousand pounds left
in your parents’ will—that cousin.”
Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “As my
steward, you are well aware of my parents’ wishes. I will be eight
and twenty in four months; should I not consider the offer of my
cousin’s hand?”
“I agree; marriage to your cousin would seem a
viable solution to your problem. Should I review the papers we
found in your cousin’s possession in the coach?” Lansing
picked up on her tone.
“I believe most of my cousin’s papers were lost or
burned in the attack.”
Lansing wiped his mouth with the back of his hand,
and Miss Donnelly snarled her nose in disgust. “I apologize, Miss
Donnelly,” he said as he slid on his gloves once again.
She fanned her face as if the saliva he left on the
back of his hand spread danger.
Trying to divert her quirky ablutions, he
continued,“Again, Miss Donnelly, you are very generous.Why so
much?”
“I assumed you might need to remind key staff
members my cousin Frederick resided with us for three weeks. He
went to Hull on business and to obtain a license for our marriage.
He was attacked upon his return. Do you remember all those
details?”
Lansing thumbed through the paper and folded it
once again, sliding it in his jacket pocket. “I remember it all
clearly, Miss Donnelly.” He stood to leave.“I remain your faithful
servant.”
The afternoon Darcy finally opened his eyes, no
one he recognized seemed to be about.The only person in the room, a
servant who identified himself as Conrad, insisted the gentleman
not move or leave the bed until someone could fetch the
physician.
“Sir, my name is Mr. Addison. I attend you.”
Darcy pushed himself up in the bed. “Mr. Addison,
could you tell me where I am and why I am here?”
“You were robbed from what I understand, Sir.” The
doctor examined Darcy’s wounds. “You are at Darling Hall near
Brigg. Miss Donnelly brought you here.”
“Miss Donnelly?”A question seemed
appropriate.
“I am new to the area myself, Sir. Miss Donnelly
owns this estate,” the doctor added as he finished his examination.
“Your wounds heal nicely; you should be able to return home soon,
Mr. . . . I am afraid I do not know your name.”
“I am . . . I am . . . I cannot remember my
name.What is my name?” Terror spread across Darcy’s face; he looked
beseechingly at the man.
“It is all right, Sir,” Mr. Addison tried to allay
Darcy’s fears. “This is common after a wound such as yours; a brief
memory loss makes sense.You have been here for five days, and you
were lying on the road for possibly several days before that time.
Your body suffered a great shock. Such an injury would cause some
confusion. I am sure Miss Donnelly can answer your questions; she
had her men retrieve your belongings. Possibly there is some form
of marking among your things.”
He allowed the physician to push him back down on
the bed.“When may I see Miss Donnelly?”
“I will tell her steward, and he will address your
concerns to Miss Donnelly,” Mr. Addison assured him. “I need for
you to take it easy, Sir. It is likely you will experience dizzy
spells for a few days. I want Conrad here to bring you some broth
and to gradually increase your food intake so you might regain your
strength.”
Darcy felt the chaos of the situation.“You will
send for Miss Donnelly?”
“I will do so, Sir. I will call upon you again in a
few days.” With that, the physician exited the room.
Darcy found himself alone again.Where was he? Who
was he? Who was Miss Donnelly? There were too many questions to
which he had no answers. He lay back on the bed, trying to forcibly
remember some of the details of his life.
He waited for Miss Donnelly to appear, but the
lady did not come.“Where is she?” he spoke to no one in
particular.
“The mistress does not think it to be proper for
her to enter a gentleman’s bedchamber,” Conrad, the servant,
informed him as he tended to the serving tray.
“Then send me her steward,” Darcy demanded. “He can
relay the information, or give me paper and pen and I will address
Miss Donnelly in writing.”
“A lady could not receive a letter from anyone but
her husband or her intended,” Conrad reasoned.
Darcy’s frustration showed; he wanted to leave the
bed, but every time he tried to stand, he was beset with incoherent
dizziness.“Someone help me,” he moaned as he forced himself to
sleep.
After breakfast, Darcy and his friend rode to
her estate. As usual, tender words of his worth greeted the other
gentleman. Darcy, on the other hand, received a cold welcome; yet,
he did not care what her mother said or did. His eyes searched
Elizabeth’s face, trying to see what she must be thinking about him
after being so chastised by his aunt. Before her mother had time to
tell Darcy of his aunt’s calling upon the family, his friend said,
“It is a beautiful day. May we take a walk and enjoy the
weather?”
Soon five set off together; his friend and
Elizabeth’s eldest sister lagged behind, allowing the others to
outstrip them. Little discourse occurred between the three
remaining; her younger sister was in awe of the “haughty Mr.
Darcy.” Darcy and Elizabeth each formed a resolution to speak what
had not been said before.
When they reached the path leading to a
neighboring lodge, her younger sister asked to be excused, and then
they two walked on in silence for a few moments. He tried to get
the courage to approach her when Elizabeth found her voice, “Sir, I
am a very selfish creature, and for the sake of giving in to my own
feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours.”
What was she saying? She did not care if she
hurt his feelings? He was devastated; he was too late. His aunt’s
rebukes combined with his earlier insecurities showed Elizabeth she
wanted nothing of him.
“I can no longer help thanking you for your
unexampled kindness to my poor sister.”
She did not speak of his aunt’s attack, but she
knew about his involvement in her sister’s marriage. Now, as was
customary, Elizabeth would be obligated to marry him.
“Ever since I have known it, I have been most
anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it.Were it
known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own
gratitude to express.”
There it was—the dreaded word “gratitude.” He
did not want Elizabeth’s gratitude; he wanted her love. What could
he say to her now? He never wanted her to know of his part in the
wedding. Darcy stopped and turned toward her. Elizabeth stopped,
too, and they faced each other for a few infinitely long
seconds.Without planning to say so, her words of “gratitude” drove
him forward. “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, you have been informed
of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I
never wanted you to know; it was not done to make you feel an
obligation to repay. I did not think your aunt was so little to be
trusted.”
Elizabeth glanced up briefly at him; the tension
was so thick. Both knew what needed to be said, but neither could
broach the subject. She tried to explain how her youngest sister’s
foolishness let the news of his attending his worst enemy’s wedding
slip out. Then she said, “You must not blame my aunt. My youngest
sister’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been
concerned in the matter, and, of course, I could not rest till I
knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name
of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to
take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake
of discovering them. It truly befuddles me why you would put
yourself through all that trouble.”
She left him the opening. She could not
understand why he troubled himself with the man he hated most in
the world. How could he overcome such mortifications? Darcy loved
her; that is why. His sister demanded it; that is why. “If you will
thank me, let it be for yourself alone.That the wish of giving
happiness to you might add force to the other inducements, which
led me on I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me
nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of
you.”
Silence enveloped them; he wanted her to say
something or do something to let him know if he overstepped the
limits.Yet, she was never silent, he thought. If he offended her,
Elizabeth’s temperament would be to reprimand him. Dare he believe
she would willingly listen to him? When he looked closely at her
downcast face, he saw her embarrassment but not her disdain. He
could contain it no longer, and he added, “You are too generous to
trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last
April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged,
but one word from you will silence me on the subject
forever.”
Now he waited, frozen in time, forgetting even
how to breathe; his eyes searched her face, anticipating her
answer.An eternity passed as he waited; finally, Elizabeth raised
her eyes to his. “Sir,” she said the words slowly as if to convince
herself as much as him, “my feelings . . . my feelings are so
different from what they were last April. My sentiments have gone
through a full array of emotions since the period to which you
allude; I willingly receive your present assurances.The fact you
still seek my love gives me great pleasure.”
The conviction with which she said the words
made the dream real, and he slowly lifted her hand to his lips and
kissed it tenderly. “My Love, I have imagined this moment so many
times, but never once did I feel such contentment and exhilaration
at the same time.” Transfixed, they stayed that way for many
minutes, fighting the urge to smother each other with kisses.“You
are beautiful, my Dearest One.” Elizabeth started to drop her eyes,
but he lifted her chin with his finger. “If you plan to drop your
eyes each time I tell you how much I love you, my Dearest, you will
forever be looking at the floor.You need never to look down again.”
She rested her hand on his chest; he wondered if she felt the faint
trembling and the erratic beating of his heart. He closed his eyes,
and her nearness consumed him. “My Love, you have stolen my heart;
I cannot live without you. Please say you will be my
wife.”
“I can think of nothing more perfect than our
matrimonial felicity. Being forever known as your wife would be my
happiest desire.” His breath caught in his throat; Elizabeth was
finally his. Now so close he
could feel her breath on his cheeks, his arms enveloped her as she
offered her mouth for their first kiss.
“I have been waiting for you,” he whispered into
her ear. The passion in his voice made her body tremble, and he
instinctively moved in closer to support her. He dreamed of this
moment for over a year; the pure pleasure of tasting her lips and
holding her at last radiated through his body.
Elizabeth looked at the clock once again. How many
hours would it take for her husband to return to Pemberley? The
night without him lasted forever. She tossed and turned, trying to
find a comfortable place to sleep; yet, the bed was the same one
she shared with Darcy. The difference lay in his absence. How had
she come to so depend on him for her existence? She needed Darcy as
she needed air. She sat at her embroidery, but her mind drifted to
the man she loved. Elizabeth felt him today, and the feeling
brought her little comfort. She put her needlework down and walked
to the window to look out over the grounds of the estate, the home
he loved. Darcy wanted her here with him.
Hugging herself and trying to still the fear
creeping into her heart, Elizabeth whispered his name,
“Fitzwilliam,” before closing her eyes, hoping to capture his
image. “I miss you, my Husband,” she mumbled to the emptiness of
the room. Elizabeth swayed, thinking of his arms around her and the
endearments Darcy offered when he held her near. Finally, she
turned back to find something to pass the time. Maybe she would
write a letter to Jane; sitting at Darcy’s desk would ease her
longing. She crossed behind the furniture, striding purposely to
the door when suddenly a pain—a sharp, penetrating pain —brought
her to an abrupt halt. She clasped the back of her head, swooning
from the pressure radiating through her.
Images of Darcy flashed before her eyes as flames of a candle
flickering in the wind. “Fitzwilliam,” she screamed as the
blackness overcame her.
The smelling salts pulled at Elizabeth’s
consciousness. “Mrs. Darcy,” she heard Mrs. Reynolds’s voice. “Can
you hear me, Mrs. Darcy?” A cool cloth gently touched her face,
teasing Elizabeth’s eyes open, blinking several times to force her
senses to respond.
“Elizabeth?” Georgiana’s face appeared above hers.
“Elizabeth, are you all right?”
Elizabeth fought hard to make clear her immediate
thoughts.“Where is Fitzwilliam?”
“My brother is not here. Do you know what happened,
Elizabeth?” Georgiana tried to lift Elizabeth’s head from the
floor.
“Georgiana, we must find Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth
pushed herself up as the urgency rushed into her voice.
Georgiana tried to assure her. “My brother is in
Hull, Elizabeth.”
“No,” she demanded. “He needs me. I heard him call
my name. Please believe me; Fitzwilliam needs me.” She clutched at
Georgiana’s hands.“We must go to him; we must help him.”
“You fainted, Mrs. Darcy.” The housekeeper
supported Elizabeth to her feet as the mistress stood gingerly.
“Mr. Darcy is away, but he will return in a few days.” Mrs.
Reynolds helped her to the nearest chair.
The panic set in; Elizabeth looked at each of them
with eyes enlarged by the fright. “Do you not understand?
Fitzwilliam needs me. He is in pain. I felt his pain. Please help
me, Georgiana,” Elizabeth pleaded.
“My brother is fine, Elizabeth.” Georgiana took her
hand.
Elizabeth sat down dejectedly. How could she make
them understand? All her reason told her Darcy would return in a
few days, but something of her fear remained. She looked
about, finally forcing a smile to her face although the feeling of
dread did not leave the pit of her stomach. “Of course, Fitzwilliam
is well,” she said the words, trying to convince herself of their
truth.“I do not know what happened.”
“Shall I send for Mr. Spencer, Madam? Is it the
child?”The woman’s loyalty to Pemberley caused her to think of the
heir Elizabeth carried.
“No, I am fine; there is no need for Mr. Spencer. I
just overextended myself once again. I assure you I am well.”
Elizabeth strained to persuade them of her health while still
feeling an emptiness only Darcy’s presence could fill. “Please, I
will be fine; I simply need a few moments to recover my
balance.”
“Let me help you to your rooms, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs.
Reynolds suggested.
Elizabeth stammered,“Maybe I will lie down for
awhile.”
She allowed the Darcys’ trusted housekeeper to help
her to her sitting room and bedchamber, and although she put on a
happy face, she could not escape the apprehension that clutched at
her heart. As she lay across the bed, clasping at the embroidered
pillow, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to close. “Stay with me,
Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.“Do not leave me; come home to
Pemberley. I am here, my Love.” Tears welled in her eyes, and
silent sobs soon racked her shoulders.
For the next few days, Elizabeth forced herself to
go through the motions of being Pemberley’s mistress. She and
Georgiana visited several of the tenants; she had fittings for new
dresses. Now, with her condition, Elizabeth needed additional
items, but her heart did not participate in these activities. Her
heart wanted Darcy home; then everything else would be important
once again.
Elizabeth stood for hours watching the lane leading
to Pemberley, knowing Darcy would return sometime in the next
couple of days. She wondered why she had no word from him;
Darcy would send an express, but Elizabeth heard nothing. So, her
eyes searched the lane, watching for Darcy’s coach to return.
“Please, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered to her reflection in the
window.“I need you here, my Love.”