To Conquer Pride

by Jennifer Altman

  Changing direction, she made her way closer to the door. The music that seeped into the chamber was hauntingly beautiful and expertly played, and Elizabeth found herself pressing up against the polished wood. She had heard that Miss Darcy was talented, but if what she was listening to now was any indication, the stories hardly did the lady justice. Twisting the handle, Elizabeth eased the door open the smallest crack, and a stifled gasp slid from her lips.

  For it was not Georgiana sitting at the pianoforte, but Mr. Darcy.

  Struggling to calm her pounding heart, Elizabeth stared, riveted by the sight of his fingers moving with practiced grace across the ivory keys, melancholy notes reverberating in the air. The room was softly lit, and his face was half in shadow, his head dipped slightly to his task, one rebellious lock of chestnut hair falling across his brow. He glanced briefly at the sheet music in front of him, and Elizabeth watched as the tempo changed, his fingers fairly flying across the keys to tease the suddenly-lively notes from the instrument. As if in a trance, she stood fixed to the spot letting the evocative music wash over her before fear of discovery caused her to slip back inside her chamber, reluctantly closing the door.

  ***

  The following morning Elizabeth rose early. Making her way to the dressing table, she loosened her plait and ran her fingers through her thick curls, letting her mind drift back to the previous evening when she had stood at the door listening to Mr. Darcy play. She now realized that to say the gentleman was proficient at the pianoforte was a vast understatement. However, it was not just his technical mastery at the instrument that had struck her so acutely, but rather the depth of emotion with which he performed. In truth, she had never heard anyone play half so well.

  Her thoughts progressed to the time she had spent at Rosings, how she had played for him there and how he had stood beside her and then complimented her afterwards.

  No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting.

  She flushed now to consider her playing as compared to his. If only she had known of his superior skill, she never would have agreed to exhibit in his presence.

  Pulling her hair into a simple knot, Elizabeth began inserting the pins that would hold it in place. It was interesting to note that Lady Catherine had not impressed upon her nephew to perform, and Elizabeth could not help but wonder if the lady in question was even aware of Mr. Darcy’s talent. Elizabeth rather doubted it, and upon further reflection, thought it possible that no one besides his sister and a handful of servants had ever had the pleasure of hearing him. For some reason, this struck her as unbearably sad and her hands stilled as a wave of emotion swept over her. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she studied her appearance in the glass. Eyelids swollen, nose red, curls sticking out in all directions. Goodness, she looked a fright!

  A sudden knock sounded at the door and Elizabeth called for whomever it was to enter. A moment later she turned to see her aunt step into the chamber.

  “Good, you are awake.” Mrs. Gardiner smiled, crossing to where Elizabeth sat.

  “I am. As a matter of fact, I was just about to see if I might procure the services of your maid.” Elizabeth gestured to the back of her gown and Mrs. Gardiner stepped behind her, fastening the hooks. When she had finished, Elizabeth’s aunt lowered her chin, bending over her niece’s shoulder to finger the loose curls framing Elizabeth’s face. Their eyes met in the mirrored glass.

  “Can it be salvaged, do you think?” Elizabeth asked.

  Her aunt looked back at her, her expression serious. “Oh, I think most things can be salvaged if one is willing to put forth the effort,” she answered.

  Elizabeth blinked up at her, suddenly feeling they were no longer speaking of her hair.

  Giving her niece’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, Mrs. Gardiner crossed to the fireplace, retrieving the curling tongs Elizabeth had left there to heat. “How is Miss Darcy? Have you seen her this morning?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, returning to Elizabeth’s side and leaning down to twist several locks around the hot metal.

  “I have not. I hope she is feeling better. I know Mr. Darcy is concerned.”

  “Yes, I am certain he is.” Mrs. Gardiner hesitated for a moment. “Actually, Lizzy, that is what I came to speak to you about. Your uncle and I have been discussing the matter, and we both feel we should not continue to trespass upon Mr. Darcy’s hospitality. He has enough to worry about without houseguests underfoot. To that end, we have decided to leave for the Lakes ahead of schedule.”

  Elizabeth sat perfectly still, her eyes once again finding Mrs. Gardiner’s in the beveled glass. “What? When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. We would leave today, but we have already accepted an invitation to dine with the Driscolls.”

  “I see.”

  Pinning the last of Elizabeth’s curls into place, Mrs. Gardiner shifted position, studying her niece. “You are not pleased.”

  “No. It is not that. I know you are likely correct, and I do not wish to impose upon Mr. Darcy’s kindness.”

  “However…?”

  Elizabeth expelled a gentle breath. “It is only that I cannot help feeling that I am abandoning them. Mr. Darcy has been so worried, and Miss Darcy is without her companion…”

  Mrs. Gardiner came to perch on the corner of Elizabeth’s bed. “Your feelings do you credit, Lizzy, but the Darcys are hardly alone—they have a doctor in residence as well as a house full of servants.” She paused for a moment before adding, “And you are not Miss Darcy’s companion.”

  “No. But I would like to be her friend. If I leave now, I would be letting both of them down.”

  “Well, there is no possibility of you remaining if the rest of us depart.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head and Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes grew round.

  “Lizzy! Certainly not! Your uncle would never allow it.”

  “Might we at least ask Mr. Darcy if he would wish for me to stay?”

  “It is not about what Mr. Darcy wishes. You cannot stay alone with an unmarried gentleman and no chaperone. It is out of the question.”

  Elizabeth’s thoughts immediately drifted to the cottage and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. If only her aunt knew this would not be the first time she and Mr. Darcy had been alone together.

  “But surely you trust Mr. Darcy? And I would be staying as Georgiana’s guest as much as his. Besides, you know that he and Mr. Bingley are as close as brothers, and as Charles is now family, are the Darcys not practically relations as well?”

  Mrs. Gardiner shook her head, but Elizabeth could see that she was struggling to suppress a smile. “I think you stretch the facts, Lizzy. However, I will speak with your uncle. But I must have your word that you will adhere to whatever he decides.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth answered.

  She did not let her aunt see she had crossed her fingers behind her back.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Elizabeth entered the library with no small amount of trepidation, taking a seat on the brocade sofa opposite her uncle’s chair. “You wished to see me, Uncle?”

  Without preamble, Mr. Gardiner answered. “I did, Lizzy, and I am certain you must know what this is about.” Settling back in his seat, the gentleman continued, “Your aunt has informed me that you wish to remain at Pemberley rather than journeying on to the Lakes as we had planned.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Then I will speak plainly. I am not in favor of the plan.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach plummeted. “Oh, I see.”

  “You must understand that in your father’s absence, you are under my protection, and I do not believe he would thank me for leaving you here without a chaperone.” Mr. Gardiner paused for a moment, studying his niece’s downcast expression, and his own countenance softened. “However, I do agree that Miss Darcy could use a friend. Indeed, I think they both could.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes lifted and she felt her heart lighten as a glimmer of hope took hold.

&nb
sp; “I have just spoken to Mr. Darcy,” her uncle resumed, “and he also approves of you staying—"

  “Oh, thank you!” Elizabeth cried, but Mr. Gardiner lifted his hand.

  “Hold on now, Lizzy, I have not finished. I am going to give my blessing, but only with certain explicit stipulations.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth immediately answered. “Whatever you wish.”

  “First, you will move back into the guest wing of the house and a maid will be assigned to you.”

  “But uncle, I do not need a—” At her uncle’s expression, Elizabeth studied the toes of her slippers, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

  “The maid will stay with you in your chambers at night and will act as your companion during the day. You will dine with Miss Darcy in her chambers or in your own sitting room. At no time will you be alone with Mr. Darcy. Is this acceptable to you?”

  Elizabeth nodded, lifting her gaze. “It is. Except… how will this look to Mr. Darcy? Will it not appear that we do not trust his honor?”

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “I think not, as these were his own suggestions. Oh, and one other thing. With Mr. Darcy’s permission, I have sent an express to your sister Jane asking that she and Bingley travel to Pemberley. With any luck, they should be here within the week. Once your sister arrives, you will be free to come and go as you please.”

  Elizabeth jumped up then, wrapping her arms around her uncle’s neck and showering him with kisses. It was only much later that she stopped to consider the fact that she was once again missing her long-awaited trip to the Lakes.

  Yet, strangely, she could not find it within herself to feel any regret.

  Chapter 21

  THE VOICE WAS a low hum, coming to Darcy as if from a great distance. He attempted to turn in the direction of the sound, but something was pressing against his cheek, holding him in place.

  “Mr. Darcy.”

  Summoning his strength, he attempted to move his head, but his body refused to obey.

  “Sir?”

  With great difficulty Darcy forced his eyes to open.

  Hastings stared down at him, his forehead crinkled and Darcy jerked upright in his chair.

  The butler took a polite step backwards. “Forgive me for waking you, sir. I thought you would wish to know that your guests have returned. They have retired for the evening, as has Mr. Grant.”

  Darcy sat straighter in his seat, tugging at his sleeves and dragging his fingers through his tousled hair. God, he must look a mess! How long had he been asleep at his desk? “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Past midnight, sir.”

  “And my sister?”

  “I believe Miss Darcy is sleeping. One of the housemaids is with her.”

  Darcy nodded, wincing at the twinge in his neck. He would feel significantly more at ease if he had been able to retain the services of a nurse, as he had intended. But when he broached the topic with his sister, Georgiana had begged that he would not. Much like himself, his sister was never easy in the company of strangers, and the idea of having someone completely unknown to her in her chambers day and night, attending to her in a most intimate manner had agitated her to such a degree that Darcy finally relented, agreeing to make do with the services of Georgiana’s maid. All in all, he could not say he blamed her. It was bad enough she had to suffer the attentions of an unfamiliar physician.

  Frowning, Darcy rose from his chair. “Has there been any word from my cousin or Prescott?”

  Though it was almost imperceptible, Hastings stiffened. “No, sir. The entire staff has been alerted to notify you the moment either of them arrives. I was just about to lock up, but one of the footmen will remain at the door in case anyone should reach Pemberley during the night.”

  Again, Darcy nodded, chagrined. “Of course. Thank you, Hastings. I might have known you would have the matter well in hand.” Bidding the faithful servant a good night, Darcy made his way up the stairs and along the corridor, pausing when he reached his sister’s chambers. When his soft knock produced no reply, he eased the door open and peered inside. Several candles were still burning, and in the soft light he could see Georgiana tucked up in her bed, sleeping soundly. In a corner of the room near the window, one of the maids was curled into an armchair, also asleep.

  Darcy crossed to where the young maid sat, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. The girl jumped, her eyes flying open in alarm.

  Lifting a finger to his lips, Darcy stepped back, motioning for the maid to follow him out into the passageway.

  The moment the door closed behind them, the girl spoke, the pitch of her voice rising in agitation. “Mr. Darcy, I beg your pardon! I was only resting my eyes for a moment. It will not happen again!”

  Darcy opened his mouth, but the maid pressed on. “I did not mean to fall asleep! I beg you, do not inform Mrs. Reynolds. She will sack me for sure!”

  Despite the girl’s distress, Darcy could not help the smile that touched his lips. Perhaps he would need to have a word with Mrs. Reynolds. He had never seen the older woman as a harsh task-master, but the housekeeper appeared to have this poor girl quaking in her boots!

  “Pray, do not concern yourself… Polly, is it?”

  The girl nodded.

  “I have no intention of notifying Mrs. Reynolds, and I am not angry. I only wished to tell you that you may retire. I will sit with my sister now.”

  “Oh, no sir! I could not go to bed. I was told that I’m to stay with Miss Darcy until Logan returns in the morning. Mrs. Reynolds won’t like it if I leave.”

  Smothering his amusement, Darcy stared down at the young girl with feigned solemnity. “I appreciate your concern, Polly, but I am telling you that you may withdraw. Unless of course you feel Mrs. Reynolds outranks me?” he asked, causing the girl to blush furiously.

  “N-no sir! But… shall I send one of the other maids to take my post? You cannot mean to sit up for the remainder of the night?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the girl’s cheeks flamed and she began to stutter an apology.

  Darcy waved his hand. “Be easy. I am not especially tired. Now, go. And if you encounter Mrs. Reynolds, pray, tell her you left on my orders.”

  ***

  Darcy slouched in his chair, an unopened book held loosely between his fingers. In the large bed across the room, Georgiana continued to doze, occasionally mumbling incoherently in her dreams. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked out a steady rhythm and despite his best intentions, Darcy’s eyelids grew heavy. Stretching his legs, he allowed his head to tip back against the cushions. The intoxicating lure of slumber tugged at his consciousness, pulling him under…

  Without warning, a blood-curdling shriek split the air and Darcy leapt from his chair. His book hit the floor with a loud thwack and his gaze flew to his sister’s face. But he realized almost immediately that the sound had not come from her. His head snapped in the direction of the adjoining chamber.

  Elizabeth!

  Darcy was instantly across the room, racing through the adjoining parlor. His knee connected with some piece of furniture and he muttered an oath. The voice cried out again, high-pitched and laced with terror.

  Reaching Elizabeth’s door, Darcy pounded on the paneling, stopping after a moment to listen for a response. The unmistakable sounds of weeping crept through the heavy wood and Darcy’s stomach clenched. Making up his mind, his fingers found the brass knob, which turned easily in his hand.

  Moving through the open door, Darcy stepped into the chamber. A sliver of moonlight fell through a gap in the draperies, guiding him as he slowly approached the bed. Elizabeth sat upright amongst the tangled sheets, her breathing rapid. Darcy moved closer and Elizabeth launched herself into his arms, clinging to his neck and whimpering against his collar.

  His composure splintered and he wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders, gathering her close. Through her thin nightdress he could feel the curves of her body and a familiar ache settled in his c
hest. He swallowed hard, lifting one hand to lightly stroke her hair.

  “Shh… It was only a dream. You are safe, Elizabeth. You are at Pemberley, and you are safe.” Holding Elizabeth gently in his arms, Darcy was reminded of all the times he had done the same for Georgiana when she had awoken from a nightmare after their father’s death. But embracing Elizabeth now, he was acutely aware that she was neither a young girl, nor was she his sister.

  Closing his eyes, Darcy breathed in Elizabeth’s sweet scent. Continuing to murmur softly in her ear, he allowed himself to envision a time when he might have the right to comfort her as a husband comforts his wife. To always be by her side, offering his protection.

  He knew the moment Elizabeth became fully aware of her surroundings. Her body stiffened and Darcy immediately released his hold. Slowly straightening his spine, he allowed her arms to slip from around his neck. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, but he could not read Elizabeth’s expression. Moving away from the bed, he turned to light the candle sitting upon a nearby table.

  Elizabeth clutched the covers to her chest and Darcy took another step back, giving her space. “Pray, forgive my intrusion, Miss Bennet. I was sitting with my sister when I heard you cry out. I am glad to see it appears to have only been a bad dream.”

  Elizabeth continued to grip the counterpane blinking in the flickering light. She stared wordlessly at him for several moments but after a while she seemed to recover her equilibrium, and when she spoke, her voice was low, but steady. “Pray, forgive me for worrying you. Indeed, it was only a dream, and I am quite recovered now.”