He barely concealed his sigh of relief, before anxiety overtook him again.
“Mr. Bennet, has Miss Elizabeth — and Miss Lydia,” he added hastily, “been downstairs yet? Have you seen them? Are they well?”
“Sit down, Mr. Darcy,” Bennet nodded him into a chair. “I’ll order coffee while we’re waiting for Mrs. Bingley. Perhaps Jane might relieve your mind.”
He rang the bell before turning back to his guests. “The apothecary has recommended Lizzy and Lydia remain in bed for the rest of the day, and perhaps tomorrow in the hope that there are no adverse consequences of their adventure.”
He glanced at Darcy. “I would think that if he had had the opportunity of seeing you, he would have recommended that you, too, might follow such advice.”
The door opened and he ordered coffee, before looking back at Darcy.
“Thank you, I am not inclined to follow such advice,” Darcy said shortly.
Bennet smiled. “I can see that, Mr. Darcy. It is as well you have a strong constitution.”
He nodded and sat silent while the conversation between Bennet and Bingley became more general. It seemed he would not see Elizabeth today, and perhaps not tomorrow, either. The weather had precluded him calling yesterday, and he didn’t know what to do to progress his hope of making her his wife.
“I do hope that Miss Elizabeth has perhaps been able to tell her sister more of what she saw,” he said, interrupting the conversation he had been oblivious of. “I cannot get out of my mind that she had to throw a stone at Wickham to make him let go of Miss Lydia.”
Bennet turned to him, his expression shocked. “How do you know that?”
“Well, she said so.” Darcy had not realised the man had not heard of it. “When they were both on the bank and I tried to send them here at once with Mrs. Bingley. Miss Elizabeth looked at me and said his name,” he scowled, “and said it was her fault, she’d had to throw a stone to make him let go of Miss Lydia and the current carried him downstream.” He shrugged. “She seemed very worried about it, so I took the farmhands and went to search for him, while Bingley agreed to bring the ladies here at once.”
“But Lizzy refused and followed you,” Bennet seemed resigned to his daughter’s nature. “I take it you saved him, too.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I know there is bad blood between you, perhaps he will change his opinion.”
Darcy shook his head. “No. He said he would never be indebted to me and stalked off, rather than be brought here to see the apothecary.”
“Well, no loss, I suppose,” Bennet murmured. “I will be very glad when they are gone to Brighton.”
“Amen to that,” Bingley nodded, and Darcy silently agreed.
Chapter 30
The next day, at breakfast, Mrs. Bingley expressed her intention of calling at Longbourn to see if her sisters were well.
Darcy dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Might I ride with the coach, Mrs. Bingley? I, too, would like to pay a call.”
“No need, Darcy,” Bingley said, heartily. “If I come too, then we might all ride inside.”
Mrs. Bingley smiled calmly, as she always did. “Do you know if the coach has been cleaned and dried for us to use, or might we need the chaise?”
Bingley looked surprised. “I suppose the cushions might not yet be dry.”
“No matter,” Darcy said. “My coach is available, of course.”
After breakfast, he went back up to his chamber to prepare for the call. His valet was there, quietly brushing his clothes, his master’s boots already polished.
“Thank you, Mr. Maunder.” Darcy looked at his boots. “I suppose the boots I wore yesterday are beyond recovery.”
“I am afraid so, Mr. Darcy. With your permission, I will send to London and have one of the spare pairs sent down, and also a further pair ordered.”
“Of course.” Darcy leaned over the open box and the kitten looked up at him in disgust, perfectly able to express its displeasure at being left alone. He picked it up.
“Well, you don’t look the worse for wear, do you?” He found it gratifying that the little creature seemed to recognise him as having saved it.
“Mr. Maunder, I am calling at Longbourn this morning. Please ensure there is someone — perhaps one of the upstairs maids — who will undertake that this kitten is fed and warm while I am gone.”
“It is already in hand, sir. Mrs. Nicholls is very fond of cats.” The valet smiled. “I think your rescue of the kitten has made you her favourite guest.”
Darcy settled in the chair with the tiny animal on his lap. He had a few moments to spare and this little creature was an easy companion.
He was looking forward to seeing Miss Elizabeth, and his mind began anticipating the happy event that she would welcome his intentions and agree that he may call upon her.
* * *
An hour later and his contented mood was abruptly shattered. There was a saddled horse waiting outside Longbourn house, and Mrs. Bingley frowned.
“It is Mr. Jones again. He did say he wouldn’t call again unless summoned. I do hope they are not unwell.”
There was no one he could speak to, no one to share his sudden fear, and all Darcy could do was hope that Elizabeth was not the cause of the apothecary’s call. He had a fleeting moment to wonder when he had begun to think of her as Elizabeth, rather than use the honorific with her name, but he pushed it aside, and followed the Bingleys into the house.
In the hall, Mr. Bennet came to greet them. He looked tired and strained. Jane Bingley kissed him and looked anxiously at the stairs. “Is someone unwell, Papa? I see Mr. Jones is here again.”
He nodded. “Go upstairs, Jane, and see how you can assist. Lizzy has developed a fever, and Lydia is creating a fuss — I think about nothing. But Kitty and Mary cannot manage your mother, as you can hear. It will not help Lizzy if there is too much noise.”
Darcy could do nothing. He stood, inarticulate, staring after Mrs. Bingley as she ran lightly up the stairs. Surely Elizabeth could not be ill?
He turned to Mr. Bennet with an effort. “Is Miss Elizabeth very unwell?”
He looked tired. “I do not know, but I am concerned. It seems to have come upon her very suddenly and she did not call anyone in the night.” He sighed. “She said she did not wish to disturb anyone. But this morning, it was difficult to rouse her.” He glanced up the stairs. “I hope now that Jane is here, she will be able to help. There are some powders Mr. Jones wishes her to take, but she cannot be roused at present.”
Darcy’s heart sank. He watched the stairs as a maid hurried down and vanished towards the kitchens. Soon she returned with a jug which she carried carefully up the stairs.
“Mr. Darcy,” Bennet’s voice intruded on his thoughts, and he turned with an effort.
“I’m sorry, sir. I did not hear you.”
“That is evident.” The man’s smile showed no rancour. “I was suggesting you come to my book room while we wait for Mr. Jones to come down. Would you like coffee, or a whisky?”
Darcy glanced at Bingley, and then back at his host. “Whisky, please. And thank you for the opportunity to wait for a while.”
Bennet glanced sharply at him, and Darcy’s lips tightened. He supposed he would have had to have spoken to him eventually, and if it had to be today, then so be it. But he would have preferred to have spoken to Elizabeth first. He began to gather his thoughts and arguments ready to put his case.
But Bennet did not mention the matter, instead saying something that made his two visitors look at him in surprise.
“Mr. Wickham called here earlier this morning, hoping, I think, to see Lizzy or Lydia.” Bennet took a sip of his drink, conscious of the close attention of both his guests. He smiled slightly. “I have to say I was not inclined to admit him, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and took him into the sitting room, where we could be frank with each other, as no one else was downstairs.”
Darcy could not believe the audacity of the scoundrel, and it s
eemed Bingley could scarce countenance it, also.
Bennet gave a small, twisted smile. “I pretended I had heard nothing as to what had transpired yesterday, but he was very careful, and very wary of me.” He took a sip from his glass. “He said that he wished to assure himself that they were not much harmed by yesterday, and that the militia are leaving Meryton tomorrow, bound for Brighton. He said that he might not be able to call again. He was quite pressing in his urgency that they should come downstairs.”
Darcy scowled. He would not like the man to see Elizabeth if he could help it.
“Fortunately, Mr. Jones then arrived, and Wickham could see that I was most certainly not going to allow either young lady downstairs to see him, so he reluctantly took his leave.” Bennet sounded quite satisfied. “I am particularly pleased that Lydia did not know he was here, for I think she might otherwise have wished to come down, and I would not have permitted it.” He turned to Bingley.
“I would ask that you allow Jane to stay here today; she will be a great assistance to me, while Mrs. Bennet is beset with her nerves.”
Bingley nodded at once. “I am sure Jane will be anxious to assist.”
The door was open, and all of them noticed a man descending the stairs, accompanied by the housekeeper.
Darcy sprang to his feet, but had to wait while Mr. Bennet heaved himself up, and preceded them into the hallway.
“Well, Mr. Jones? What have you to say?”
The older man put down his bag on the hall table. He bowed slightly at the gentlemen, before giving his attention to Bennet.
“I am gratified that Miss Elizabeth’s sister has arrived. They obviously have a close bond, and we were finally able to ensure Miss Elizabeth took the powders which will relieve her fever, if we can but be certain that she drinks plenty of water and keeps warm in bed.”
Darcy was unable to keep quiet. “Is she in any danger?”
The apothecary looked at him in some surprise. “I cannot answer with any certainty just yet. If the fever has broken by tomorrow, then she ought to recover fairly well; but the river contains much that is not particularly savoury, and it depends if the fever is caused by something there, rather than by a chill.”
He shrugged on his coat and picked up his hat. Nodding at Bennet, he picked up his bag again. “I will return this evening and see if Mrs. Bingley has had some success in managing my instructions.”
Darcy stood and watched him leave. If Miss Elizabeth was no better tomorrow, Bennet might permit him to call his physician from London to assist the local man. He would write express to Richard to ask if the offer might cause offence. There was nothing else he could do — except — the kitten! She had seemed amused at the state of the tiny creature when he had tucked the muddy animal inside his jacket yesterday. He must ensure it was well and happy. She might like to see how well it had survived.
He could do that for her.
Chapter 31
Elizabeth grimaced as a beam of sunlight pierced through her closed eyelids and made her headache worse. She pulled the covers up to hide against it.
“Let me draw the curtain, Lizzy. Then you won’t need to hide under the covers.”
“Jane!” Elizabeth pushed back the covers. “How long have you been here?” As she tried to sit up, she felt dizzy, and flopped back down on the pillows. “What’s been happening? Have I been ill?”
Jane had drawn the curtains against the light, and came across the chamber and sat on the edge of the bed. “Have a drink, Lizzy, while you’re awake. Yes, you’ve had quite a fever.” She reached over and hugged her. “I’ve been so worried about you, and here you are, back with me again.”
Elizabeth realised she was very thirsty, and took the proffered glass. “Thank you, Jane.”
Her eyes wandered round her familiar bedchamber as she drank. The background noise of Longbourn was there, muted behind the closed door, and her beloved sister was here. She reached out for her.
“So, Jane. Tell me what’s been happening, and how long it’s been. I feel very hungry, so I assume I have perhaps lost a day.”
“Three days, Lizzy. You frightened me very much, I quite thought … well, never mind.” Jane reached over and rang the bell. “Let me order you something to eat, and then I can tell you what has happened.”
“Three days! Oh, my goodness!” Elizabeth tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t support her. “I must see Papa, I must.”
“Don’t get up, Lizzy!” Jane held her arm. “Get back into bed. You must wait until Mr. Jones says it is all right for you to get up.”
“But I have to speak to Papa — and is Lydia all right? Is she safe?”
“Yes, of course she is.” Jane sounded puzzled and Elizabeth relaxed a little.
She made a face as she ate the gruel, which was all Jane would allow her to have, saying that she would send for Mr. Jones early if she wished to eat more.
Then Jane bade her back into bed, and brought a bowl for her to wash.
“Oh, that feels good,” Elizabeth sighed. “Jane, tell me what happened. I remember what happened by the river, and I felt a little shivery when we were all going to bed that night. Have I really been ill for three days?”
Jane nodded. “This is the fourth morning. Papa has been beside himself.” She gave Elizabeth a sideways look. “So has Mr. Darcy. Papa would not allow him to send for his London physician, but by yesterday, he was close to changing his mind. Mr. Darcy has called each day, with Charles.” She blushed a little. “Charles was very good about permitting me to stay here to care for you. Mary and Kitty have had great difficulty in managing Mama, and Lydia, of course, is just Lydia.”
Elizabeth thought about the things she had heard in that little speech. Mr. Darcy had been beside himself — no, she wouldn’t let herself hope that it meant something, surely she would have sensed it if he really returned her feelings?
Lydia. “Is Lydia all right? Is she confined to the house?”
Jane looked surprised. “No, of course not. She hasn’t been ill, despite being in the river longer than you,” she smiled. “But then, of course, we got her back here and warm long before you.”
“But …” Elizabeth changed her mind. She could not risk the warning being watered down. “I must see Papa, I really must. It might already be too late.” She touched her sister’s arm. “You know me, Jane, you can see that I’m better now. Please help me to dress and see if Papa is downstairs.”
She hid the weakness in her legs, certain Jane would try and prevent her going down if she knew, but her sister bade her wait a moment.
“Let me check the fire is built up high before you go down, Lizzy, please.” Soon she was back upstairs.
“Papa is having the fire built up in his library as the room will warm more quickly for you.”
“Thank you, Jane.” Elizabeth steeled herself, she must not show how alarmingly weak she felt. She would be better once she was downstairs, she knew.
She held onto the bannister as she descended the stairs, and knew from the angle of the light that it was late in the morning. Then her heart did a strange leap, and somehow she knew that Mr. Darcy was with her father, watching her. Why was he here? Surely he should be at Netherfield?
“Lizzy,” her father extended his arm to her, “you should not have come downstairs. Nothing can be so important that it would not wait until you are well again.”
“But it is, Papa. I am only sorry that so long has passed.” She paused and looked at Mr. Darcy, not completely sure that a curtsy would not conclude with her on the floor.
He bowed. “Please go and take a seat at once, Miss Elizabeth. I would not have you overstrain yourself.”
She contented herself with a little bob, and allowed her father to lead her through to his library. She pushed away the annoyance that Mr. Darcy must think little of her if he thought she was so feeble as not to be able to stand for long.
Then she was vexed at her feelings. He was quite right and she would be very glad to sit down
. She must remember she wasn’t completely herself and be careful not to say something she might regret.
Chapter 32
Papa led her to his own high-backed armchair closest to the blazing fire, and hovered over her until she was seated. Then he covered her knees with a blanket.
“Are you going to be all right, there, Lizzy? You are very pale.”
“I will be well, Papa.” She made herself smile. “You must remember when I was a little girl, I always looked much worse than I felt with childhood illnesses.”
He didn’t smile back. “You probably don’t know how very ill you have been, Lizzy. Mr. Jones began to despair that you would not recover.”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember.” Then she reached out to him. “But I must talk to you, Papa. About Lydia. I hope it is not too late.”
She sensed his interest. “Very well, Lizzy.” He drew up a chair close to her, prepared to listen. “Be reassured, Lydia is here and quite safe.”
She looked at him; he did not seem inclined to ask Mr. Darcy to leave the room. She wasn’t even sure that he remembered that he was there, taking a seat quietly by the door.
She glanced over; she didn’t really have the energy to make a fuss about his presence. She turned back to her father.
“I’m glad my being ill has not meant anything happened to her before I could speak to you. But I beg that you ensure her protection until this is all sorted out.” She hesitated. “You see, what I saw has made me think she is not safe.”
Her father’s face looked tired and more lined than ever. “Lydia would not say what had happened, except that she slipped on the edge of the river. But she has refused to account for why she was with Mr. Wickham at the time.”
Elizabeth looked away, into the leaping flames, and drew a deep breath. There was no other way except to say what she saw. Perhaps there was another way to interpret it, but she could not imagine what it might be. But she would not say that she had seen them kiss. Their ruin would then be inevitable. But she must prevent Mr. Wickham trying to harm Lydia.
A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10) Page 13