Darcy examined the trousers. “Very resourceful. In that case, I will wear these.” He might be an invalid, but he would prefer not to look like one. He glanced around the room. Yesterday he had been too exhausted from his torturously slow journey down the mountain to pay attention to his surroundings. Now the thin winter sunlight that crept in around the curtains revealed a long table and matching chairs lining the portrait-covered walls. “This is not a bedroom.”
“No, sir. It is the dining room. Miss Merton had us bring the bed down here. Mr. Jack says ye are not to be taken up or down stairs for at least a week, and since all the bedrooms are upstairs, she thought ye would prefer to have the freedom of the public rooms rather than be limited to one bedroom.” James brought out a pile of carefully folded clothing. “She has sent to the castle to see if they have a Bath chair.”
A Bath chair. He truly was an invalid. “What castle is that?”
“Och, Castle Lochard, of course. Seat of the MacLarens. Young MacLaren will send some more suitable clothing for ye, too.”
With a flash of displeasure, Darcy asked, “Does everyone in the area know of my situation, then?”
“News travels quickly in the glen.” James held up a shirt by the shoulders uncertainly. “Miss Merton said ye are accustomed to having your own gentlemen’s gentleman. We have nae personal servants here, and I am but a footman. The housekeeper said I should serve ye, as she knows I have a yen to move to Glasgow and become a gentleman’s gentleman, but I have nae experience at this. I would be in your debt if ye were to tell me what I could do better.”
Darcy blinked in surprise. His housekeeper would have died of mortification if any servant had dared to ask the master for lessons in how to do his job. At least this fellow seemed hard-working and eager to please, and it was in Darcy’s interest to have him trained rather than bumbling. “You should hold the shirt like so...”
DARCY RUBBED HIS HAND over his smooth chin. It was astonishing how much more civilized he felt now that he was clean, properly dressed, and freshly shaven.
“Do ye wish to go to the drawing room, sir?”
After being trapped for days in the ruin and now in this room, the drawing room sounded like the pinnacle of freedom. Still, merely being moved to the armchair beside his bed had made his head swim and pound. “Not today. I would prefer to receive Miss Elizabeth in here if she is willing.”
“Very good, sir.” James straightened the bedcurtains before leaving the room.
Darcy had not seen Elizabeth since before his journey down the mountain, and it seemed like a painfully long time. Staying in the ruin had been uncomfortable, but she had sat beside him all day. Her presence had become like the air he needed to stay alive.
Elizabeth appeared, bringing in the brightness of her presence. Unfortunately, she was followed by a maid who clearly had no intention of leaving.
A chaperone. Now Elizabeth could not even hold his hand. But, dammit, she did need a chaperone, or it would risk her reputation even further.
As Elizabeth drew closer to Darcy, she exclaimed, “You look much more like yourself now! I hope James has been making you comfortable, or at least as comfortable as you can be at present.”
“Yes, he has,” said Darcy, surprised to realize it was true. “One would hardly know he was a footman.” But he did not want to make polite conversation about servants. He wanted their earlier closeness back. “Sadly, nothing he can do compares to the curative properties of holding your hand,” he said boldly.
“What a clever fellow you are!” she teased. “Now when I fail to hold your hand, I am contributing to your ill health and injuries. But we are back in civilization, at least of a sort, and so I must obey the rules of propriety even if it causes me guilt.”
“At least I have not shocked your sensibilities,” he said dryly, but the sound of his voice suddenly seemed too loud and brought the throbbing pain back to his head. Now the room seemed unpleasantly bright even with the curtains drawn. He shut his eyes to keep it out.
“Does your head still ache?” asked Elizabeth. “Perhaps it would be better if I just sat here quietly for a few minutes.”
“I fear so,” he said in the quietest voice he could use. Damn this headache!
ELIZABETH PACED ACROSS the drawing room. What a coward she was! There was no other word for it. She had gone in to see Darcy with every intention of calmly telling him she would be leaving in the morning, but he had flirted with her, and she had not wished to ruin his good spirits. Then when his headache returned, she had not had the heart to give him the hurtful news. She made a tutting sound under her breath. Ridiculous! Not telling him because he was happy, and then not telling him because he was unhappy. What was she waiting for?
It was not going to be any easier to tell him tomorrow. The idea of leaving him, knowing it was forever, made her want to cry. Perhaps she should just write him a letter explaining she had to leave. No, that would be too dangerous. If the letter fell into the wrong hands, it would be proof she had been in contact with Darcy. Oh, how she hated his family for putting them both through this!
But hating them would not solve her problem. In the morning she would tell him she was leaving, even if his headache was unendurable, and then she would go. She would have plenty of time to cry on the road to Edinburgh.
THE CHAPERONE, MRS. Graham, arrived just as big flakes of snow began to fall from the darkening sky. She proved to be a woman of middle years dressed in well-made clothing that was several years out of style.
“It was very kind of you to come, Mrs. Graham. I hope it is not a terrible inconvenience to you,” Elizabeth hoped the woman would not be angry when she realized it was a waste of her time.
“It will be a pleasant holiday for me,” Mrs. Graham said with a warm smile. “My four sons still live with us and are dreadfully loud and quarrelsome. I will very much enjoy the peace and quiet here. Ye need pay no attention to me at all.”
“I will do my best not to be quarrelsome,” Elizabeth promised with a laugh. “The housekeeper did not tell me anything about you except that you were suitable, so I do not even know if you had to travel far.”
Mrs. Graham spread her skirts as she took a seat on the sofa. “Only from Aberfoyle. My nephew Duncan asked me to come.”
Elizabeth ran through her memory. Was there a servant named Duncan?
“MacLaren the Younger,” Mrs. Graham clarified.
Oh, yes, the chimney-building laird’s son whom she had refused to marry. “You must be the chieftain’s sister, then.” She hoped Mrs. Graham did not intend to encourage her to marry MacLaren the Younger. At least she would only have one day for it.
“Aye, I was Agnes MacLaren before I married Mr. Graham and began to birth enough sons to form our own army,” she said.
“I do feel you have been brought here under false pretenses,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “Mr. Darcy is unable to walk, so there is no real risk that he would try to compromise me, and I am planning to leave for Edinburgh tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I had not heard that, but perhaps it is for the best if ye wish to avoid gossip. I am sorry you have to leave so soon, though.” The woman sounded genuinely regretful.
“I hope you will feel free to remain here as long as you wish to enjoy the absence of quarrelsome sons.” It seemed only polite after she had come this far in the cold.
“Well, we shall see. If this snow keeps up, it may be that neither of us will be traveling tomorrow.”
Her heart twisted. An excuse to remain. Half of her hoped for it. The other half just wished for this to be over.
AS USUAL, IT WAS STILL full dark when Elizabeth awoke to the sounds of Margaret lighting the fire in her room. The air was chilly, so she wrapped herself in the counterpane as she sat up. “How much snow is there?” she asked groggily.
“Nigh on half a foot. I fear ye’ll not be going anywhere today, miss.”
A day’s reprieve, then, but it would only make it even harder to leave the next day.
“How long before the roads are cleared?”
Margaret sat back on her heels and looked at her questioningly. “Cleared, miss?”
“Yes, cleared, so the carriage can get through.”
“Och, we dinna use carriages in the snow. Ponies and horses can manage it well enough if we need something, and there is nowhere to go that requires a carriage until the snow in the pass melts.”
That sounded ominous. “What pass is this?”
“The Pass of Aberfoyle, miss, where the river runs between the hills. ’Tis where Graham of Duchray and our Highlanders defeated Cromwell’s army.” Her voice lilted with pride. “But ye canna go through it when the snow is deep, and it is the last to melt.”
“Is there no other way out?”
The girl considered. “No other roads, only mountain tracks. Sorry, miss.”
“How long before the pass is clear?”
Margaret shrugged. “Could be a few days or a fortnight or more. Farther north the passes often close for the entire winter, but not here.”
A longer reprieve, then, but she would have to be careful. Allowing herself more time with Darcy would only open the way to heartbreak. But at least if she could not leave Kinloch House, neither could anyone get in to discover her presence there. That was a blessing.
DARCY FELT SUFFICIENTLY improved the following morning to allow two brawny footmen to carry him to the drawing room. Someone had prepared his place there carefully. After suffering the indignity of being carried like a child, Darcy was glad to find his armchair in the drawing room was at least a comfortable one. A small table with two decanters and a glass stood to one side.
James arranged Darcy’s leg atop a footstool. “Mr. Jack says it must stay elevated,” he said apologetically. In a whisper, he added, “The wine in the smaller decanter has a few drops of laudanum, should ye need it.”
“Good.” Darcy would have nodded at the young man’s thoughtfulness, but the motion might make his head worse. Besides, he had no intention of requiring laudanum. No matter how much it hurt.
The two footmen moved a small desk in front of him over his leg. The desk did not match anything else in the room. Presumably it had been brought in for this purpose.
“For your breakfast, sir,” said his resourceful footman-turned-valet. “When you are done with it, we can move it away again unless ye wish to write letters.”
He owed a letter to Georgiana, but he would have to fill it with lies to avoid worrying her. Better to wait a few days until he could report something that did not involve highwaymen and broken bones. “Breakfast will do for now.”
Elizabeth came in just after his meal was taken away, the timing of it so neat that she must have been waiting for word he was finished. “Good morning. No, do not even try to stand up, I beg you. Mr. Jack would dangle me from the nearest parapet if I allowed you to use that leg.”
“Good morning,” he said gravely. “Although I am not certain why a highwayman can give orders here, I have no intention of doing anything but resting my leg.”
She smiled, but it was a weak smile. “He can only tell us what to do about your leg. Highwayman or not, he is the closest thing to an apothecary here. If he ordered the staff to help him with a robbery, they would not obey. At least I think they would not, but I have been surprised by them more than once. I hope they have made you comfortable.”
“To an almost embarrassing degree. I am sorry to cause so much work and disruption to your household.”
She sat in an armchair facing him, but her eyes kept drifting away from him. “There is no need to worry about causing extra work at Kinloch House. It is ridiculously overstaffed, and half of the servants end up doing unnecessary work just to keep their hands busy.”
“It is kind of you to say so,” he said uncomfortably.
“It is true. You will see what I mean soon enough.”
It was a perfectly civil answer, but something was different. She had seemed so warm to him in the ruin, but now she was cool and distant. What had changed? “I hope you will not feel obligated to entertain me.”
She tilted her head and said archly, “Well, that is a relief, given my busy schedule of pressing social engagements and nonexistent duties to this mysterious estate which no one will explain to me. Before you arrived, I was so bored that I deliberately went walking into a situation which every single person here had warned me was dangerous and immediately tripped over your body. You are more likely to be entertaining me than the other way about, as will my new guest, Mrs. Graham, who is here to chaperone me. She should be joining us shortly.”
A formal chaperone. Elizabeth did not trust him, even when he could not walk. Her polite pretense was more than he could bear. “What is the matter? You seem different today.”
Her smile faded. “I made a mistake,” she said quietly. “In my concern over your injury, I forgot that I should not allow any connection between the two of us. All I wanted was for you to be well again. Now I must face reality.”
“Because of the gossip? That is easily remedied, and I came here specifically to do that.”
She stood and began rearranging the books on a shelf by the window, her back to him. “It is no use. My difficulties are larger than that. There is no future for us. Elizabeth Bennet has vanished from the earth. Elizabeth Merton must remain in Scotland, and she cannot maintain any connection to you. If last night’s snow had not blocked the roads, I would already be on my way back to Edinburgh.”
His thinking might be less than clear, but even so, he could not miss the rejection. “It is true, then. You would rather have your entire family live in disgrace than tolerate a marriage to me.” She did not want him, no matter how warm she had been to him in the ruin. That had been nothing but charitable behavior.
She swung back to face him, her hands curled into fists. “No! It is not that.” She closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she re-opened them, she said in a brittle voice, “Mr. Darcy, I am sensible of the very great compliment of your affection. I respect you for your efforts to help my family recover from a scandal you did nothing to cause. While I am tempted by what you offer, I could never be happy in such an unequal situation. As a result, I think it easiest if we do not prolong our acquaintance.”
A huge weight settled on his chest. “What of your family? You cannot deny that their suffering would be relieved if you married me.”
She lifted her chin. “My sister’s marriage to Mr. Bingley has likely already provided some relief, and I also cannot ignore that any assistance to my family would come at the price of making your family suffer. Can you deny that your sister’s prospects would be harmed if you married a disgraced woman who lived with her actress aunt?”
His mouth went dry. “Given her dowry and that she is the niece of Lord Matlock, only the highest sticklers would be likely to care.” But some of them would care. Marrying Elizabeth when she still lived in her father’s house would have been a degradation to his family; now it would be a disaster. It was just that he no longer cared about any of that.
She spun away to face the window, her back now to him, her shoulders stiff. “Ah, yes, Lord Matlock.” Her voice dripped ice. “Do you believe he and Lady Catherine de Bourgh would welcome me into your family?”
Of course they would not. They would be livid if they had the least idea that he was considering this marriage. “Their opinion is unimportant to me.”
“But not unimportant to me. I would not wish to spend my life being resented by my husband’s family. And now I wish to stop discussing this. I have made my decision; I ask you to respect it.”
He bowed his head, although she would not be able to see it. “As you wish.” Despair ate at his throat.
“I thank you.” Her unsteady voice made him long to reach out to her, but she would not welcome that.
Or would she? This refusal was different from the one at Hunsford. Then she had been angry and told him everything she detested about him. This time she was distressed and spoke only
of the inequality of their ranks and the social consequences of a marriage between them. Rational reasons, having nothing to do with her sentiments.
She must be feeling at least a little regret over refusing him. Somehow he was certain of it. If there were any part of her that wished to be his wife, he would not give up trying to win her affection, but he would have to be more subtle about it. “When I was lying injured in the ruin, your warmth and gentleness were a great gift to me. Even if there is no future, I hope that we can remain on cordial terms until you must leave. But if you prefer to avoid my company completely, I will respect that as well.”
Elizabeth made a clucking noise. “I think that blow to your head addled your wits. If I wished to avoid your company, I would not have walked half an hour each way in the cold to spend my days in a chilly, smoky ruin.” But she said it in a friendly manner, and the tension in the air seemed to ease a little.
He shook his head and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his skull. He dug his fingernails into his palms until he could think clearly again. “Being helpless has addled me. I cannot do the smallest thing for myself, I have not a penny to my name, and no one here knows who I am. I am dependent on you for everything. Even the clothes I am wearing are your charity.” And that barely began to describe how much he hated his helplessness.
“Men do worry about the oddest things! If it is any comfort, I am always completely dependent on my aunt, and on my father before her.” She came towards him, pausing beside his chair.
Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. Astonishingly, she allowed it, albeit with a slightly puzzled, almost pained look.
The slight touch of their linked hands resonated deep within him. It made no sense. She did not want to marry him, yet she held his hand. She must have some degree of warmth for him. Perhaps he could still kindle it into something more. But he would have to go slowly or risk frightening her off – yet she might leave at any time, and then it would be too late.
A Matter of Honor Page 18