by Leenie Brown
Her head bobbed up and down slowly. “I was visiting my Aunt Gardiner in town when the accident happened. I was not allowed to come home.” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “That is why you must rest, for you must go to your –”
“Anne,” he supplied when she looked to him.
“As soon as you can.”
“I am sorry you did not get to come home.”
She shrugged a shoulder and dashed away another tear. “Thank you.” She attempted to smile at him, but the gesture wavered. “Brandy helps. It is what my aunt gave me to make me sleep after I heard the news. That is why I would have chosen brandy.”
He returned her smile with a wavering one of his own as tears clung to his lashes. “Then, I will insist upon a glass when Richard returns. Now that you have mentioned it, I believe that is what Mrs. Reynolds gave my sister after my mother died. Just a sip or two. She was very young.”
“So much loss,” he heard her whisper as he turned his eyes to watch the low flames dance and the sparks jump behind the fireplace screen.
“How does one bear it?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. He was not certain he could bear it. “A little at a time, I suppose.”
“One foot in front of the other,” she agreed.
He looked at her again. “Indeed.”
“But one need not bear it alone,” she added.
His cousin must be returning for she looked toward the servants’ stairs.
“If you need anything, Mr. Darcy… if there is anything I can do to help you bear this burden…” she shrugged as if she thought it was impossible that she should be able to provide any help, “you need only ask.”
“Will you tell me about your friend sometime?”
She nodded. “If you will tell me about your Anne.” She held up a finger. “But not until you have recovered and have gone to see her. When you return will be soon enough.”
“When I return,” he repeated. “Miss Elizabeth,” he called as she turned to leave.
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You have already been a great comfort.”
She dipped a curtsey. “I am glad,” she said and then took her leave.
“You look far less agitated than you did when I left you here.” Richard placed a stack of four books on a small table and pulled it closer to where Darcy sat.
“Did you bring port?” Darcy replied.
Richard shook his head and lowered his voice. “No, brandy, but do not tell her.”
Darcy chuckled. “As long as you pour me a generous serving.”
“I am surprised she recommended it.”
“Why?” Darcy picked up a book and began paging through it.
“I do not know, really. I suppose I did not expect her to know one drink from the next. She is surprising.” He brought a glass of caramel coloured liquid to Darcy and then lowered into a chair with his own glass. “I rather like her.”
Darcy’s left brow rose as he looked up from his book. “Do you?”
Richard nodded. “I do. Do you not find her interesting?”
The right corner of Darcy’s mouth tipped up as he gave a small shrug. “I suppose,” he prevaricated. He found her too interesting was the problem. No, he realized as soon as he had thought it, it was no longer an issue.
“Does she come from money?”
A frown creased Darcy’s brow. “You find her that interesting?”
Richard swallowed the gulp of brandy he had taken and nodded. “I could if she had money.”
“That is rather mercenary of you,” Darcy muttered.
“I am not wealthy like you,” Richard argued. “I must consider such things. You have never complained about such comments before.”
“I find it unsettling when it is about a friend.” He took a swallow of brandy and found an odd sense of pleasure in the pain it caused. Just as it cleaned a wound, the burning liquid should help his raw throat to heal. He shook his head. “I understand she has very little to recommend her other than her looks and personality. I am afraid you will have to remain only mildly interested.” If at all, he added to himself.
He allowed the brandy to burn his throat once more as he imagined her standing at the door telling him about her friend. She was a lady who deserved to have someone care for her tender heart without thought of how much money she had or did not have or even without a thought about how bewitching her eyes could be.
Richard sighed. “That is too bad. It is dashed hard to find a lady as interesting as Miss Elizabeth. The ton is riddled with proper, never-say-what-you mean beauties, but I would prefer a lady of substance.”
“That is understandable.”
Richard stood and placed his glass on the mantle. “You will now have to find such a lady as well.” His tone was as gentle as Darcy had ever heard it. “You do not need a lady of means,” he added before pacing to the window and looking out.
Richard was as unable to remain still as Darcy was. No, that was not true. He was likely worse. The man was perpetually in motion. In that way, he was a bit like Bingley.
“Allow me to at least see Anne buried before you remind me of my duty,” Darcy replied.
“I did not mean to be heartless.”
“I know.” Darcy swirled his drink, then put it aside instead of taking another swallow.
“Did you love her?” Richard came back to sit on the edge of his chair.
“I did. How could I not? She was my cousin, and we were good friends.”
“And expected to marry.”
Darcy nodded. “Yes, and expected to marry.”
Richard shifted backward in his chair. “Did you love her as a man loves a woman or just as a friend loves a friend?”
“Must we speak of this?” Darcy wanted to lose himself and his thoughts in a book. He did not want to contemplate the things that had both kept him awake and appeared to be those that his cousin seemed bent on discussing.
“I think we must.” Richard shrugged. “I have always found it best when faced with a tragedy to dissect it and see it for what it is.”
“I do not.”
“No,” Richard agreed, “you brood and grow sullen and disagreeable until finally there is no other option but to face what is.”
“I think my method is acceptable.”
Richard shook his head. “I would normally leave you to yourself, but I fear you will be too long in coming to the point.”
“What does it matter how long it takes me to grieve the loss of Anne?”
Richard blew out a breath. “Have you met our aunt’s new parson?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, why would I have met him?”
“No reason, I suppose, but it would make it easier for you to understand what I am about to say if you knew how ridiculous the man is.” Richard shook his head. “So many words! He uses twenty when five would do!”
“He is a parson.”
“No,” Richard replied with a firm shake of his head, “it is more than that. He is pretentious and stodgy.” He pressed his lips together into a frown for a moment and then continued. “He is young but attempts to present himself as wise beyond his years. He is about my height but somewhat rounder in the middle than I am. He possesses very little grace in his movements, and he continually bows deeply to our aunt as he praises her for her benevolence.”
“He does sound ridiculous,” Darcy agreed.
“Oh, he is!”
“However, I do not see what he has to do with my method of grieving.”
“He was supposed to have travelled to Hertfordshire, but Anne’s death prevented it.” Richard stood and retrieved his brandy. “His purpose coming to Hertfordshire was to find a wife among his cousins.”
“He has relations in Hertfordshire?”
Richard nodded. “At Longbourn.”
“I beg your pardon?” Longbourn? The Bennets were relations of Lady Catherine’s parson?
“As I understand it, there was a breach in the family some time ago. Longbourn i
s entailed to this Mr. Collins, and he and our aunt think it will mend the rift if he were to make one of his cousins mistress of Longbourn by marrying her.”
“Oh.”
“Indeed. As I see it, Bingley is smitten with the eldest Bennet, whom I have yet to meet.”
Darcy nodded. “Not without reason. She is beautiful.”
Richard grinned. “I would expect nothing less of a lady who had captured Bingley’s attention.”
It was true. Bingley had a discerning eye when it came to finding the most beautiful lady in any room, and he was proficient in making such a lady notice him. However, this time, with Jane Bennet, it seemed Bingley was more than just enjoying a small flirtation. He seemed genuinely enamoured.
“Does Miss Bennet return his admiration?” Richard asked.
Darcy shrugged. “I have not noticed such.”
Richard’s brow furrowed. “Why do I ask you? You are dreadful at reading such things. I will watch for myself.” He waved the topic away with his hand. “For now, I will assume that the attraction is mutual. It is Bingley of whom we speak, after all. So, when this Collins comes to call, Miss Bennet will likely not be among the options. I understand there are five daughters so her removal will leave four. If I am guessing his tactics correctly, he will think it unseemly for a younger daughter to be married before an elder one, and so he will select the next in line as his wife. It really is too bad that Miss Elizabeth does not have more money. I would willingly save her from him if she did, but alas, I cannot.” He finished what remained of his brandy. “Longbourn is not a prosperous estate? Mr. Collins made it sound as if it were quite promising, but then, he does tend to be overly ambitious with his praise of most things of which he thinks our aunt will approve.”
“Longbourn is a modest estate,” Darcy murmured.
“Allow me to repeat my question from before. Did you love Anne as a man loves a woman or as a friend loves a friend?”
Darcy scowled. “I have been considering that very thought for days,” he admitted.
“For days? Even before I arrived?”
Darcy could feel the shame of his contemplations over the past few days rising from his unsettled stomach, past his rapidly beating heart, and up his neck as it sought to burn upon his cheeks. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Darcy scrubbed his face with his hands. “Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered as his heart ached at having been contemplating another lady when he was betrothed to Anne. He should never have let his desires sway his sense of duty.
“You like her?”
“I was writing to you about her when you arrived. I did not know what to do. I found myself attracted to her as I have never felt before, but I was promised to Anne. And for the first time in my life, I wished I was not.”
Richard leaned forward and placed a hand on Darcy’s arm where it rested on the arm of the chair. “Anne would have never held you to your understanding if she knew another had touched your heart. It is why she insisted on waiting so long. She knew you loved her as a cousin, and she knew you would care for her as well as any man could. However, she also wished for your heart to be happy, and she feared she would never provide that happiness.”
“How do you know?” Darcy whispered as tears slid freely down his cheeks.
“She told me. When we were at Rosings for Easter. Right before she promised you that she would make your betrothal known and would marry you in the new year. She would have gladly broken your betrothal to see you happy. Just as you would have denied your heart to see to her care. You were alike in that way.” He rose and removed the blanket from Darcy’s lap. “You must get in bed.”
Darcy allowed his cousin to help him out of his robe and breeches and into bed.
“She would want you to be happy,” Richard repeated. “When we return to Netherfield after we have said our farewells to our cousin, seek out Miss Elizabeth. I think you would suit, and I am certain Anne would grant you her blessing.” He crossed the room to sit once again near the hearth as Darcy turned onto his side and, amid many tears, finally fell asleep.
Chapter 4
Two days later, just as Elizabeth had predicted, Darcy’s fever broke, and Richard called for the carriage to be readied. Within an hour, Darcy had been bundled into it with more blankets and foot warmers than he thought he required, but since he was just thankful to be on his way, he kept his complaints to himself.
The journey proved to be more trying than he expected, and, on Richard’s insistence, he was allowed only to make a quick appearance to his aunt and uncle before being once again ensconced in bed. To be honest, he was grateful for Richard’s interference and found that sleep, which he feared might have remained at Netherfield rather than following him to Rosings, had not deserted him. He slept from his arrival until the next morning, although he did find himself waking before the sun had risen.
He rolled over, attempting to find the source of the snoring he heard. Richard was draped face first over a cot that had been placed near the fire. Darcy shook his head and smiled. It was comforting to have someone care so much for him as to forego the comfort of a bed to keep watch over him.
Richard snorted and shifted. Then, with a curse, he tugged the blanket that had dropped onto the floor back up and tossed it over his legs, only for it to drop once again to the floor.
“You can go to your own room,” Darcy said.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes.”
Richard rubbed the corner of his eye with a knuckle as he sat up. “How do you feel?” He teetered sluggishly and then shook his head.
“I am well.”
Richard’s brows furrowed. “You are not well. You are improving. Now, tell me what is indeed improving and what is still needing improvement.” He pushed to his feet and padded across to the bed so that he could lay a hand on Darcy’s forehead. “Cool,” he declared as if Darcy did not know that his fever had not returned.
“Your throat, how is it?”
“It only hurts a bit, but that is likely because I am thirsty.”
Immediately, Richard crossed the room and filled a tumbler with a small amount of port. His lips curled up on one side when Darcy raised a brow as Richard handed him the glass. “I thought brandy might be too much so early in the day, and I think even Miss Elizabeth would agree with that.”
Darcy shook his head and took a swallow of his drink. It did not burn at all.
“No wincing. You must be telling the truth.”
Darcy scowled.
“You are known to hide what truly ails you,” Richard replied to the unspoken accusation. “Now, tell me. How is your head?”
“I am well.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“My fever is gone, and neither my throat nor my head hurt as they did. Aside from some stiffness in my back and legs, my body does not ache.”
Richard looked him up and down as he tilted his head to one side and then the other.
“You would make a good nursemaid,” Darcy muttered.
“You need one when you are ill, and it is better I fill the role than allowing Aunt Catherine to see to it.”
Darcy could not argue that point. His aunt was overly zealous in her attendance to any malady. He was surprised that her physician and the apothecary had not visited him. But then, she might not be able, at present, to worry about him. “How is she?” he asked.
“Father convinced her that you were not on death’s doorstep and that no concoctions needed to be made.”
Apparently, even when grief-stricken, his aunt was able to rally enough to worry about the health of another.
“I will allow you to rise.”
“I had planned to do so whether you granted me permission or not,” Darcy replied.
Richard shrugged. “I know. However, this way, I feel as if I had some say in the matter.”
Darcy chuckled. Richard did like to be in command. He had always been that way; it was not his current occupation that had caused him to
be so, though it was a disposition such as he possessed that lent itself well to Richard’s rank.
“How is your heart?” Richard asked as Darcy threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“It aches a great deal more than the rest of me.”
“Will you sit watch?”
Darcy nodded. “I should like to. Will Aunt Catherine allow it? I am not female.”
“She has allowed Father, so I am certain she will allow you to take a turn as well.” Richard rang for Darcy’s man as Darcy made use of the chamber pot before finding his robe and taking a seat near the fire to enjoy another small amount of port. “However, you have been ill, and we would not wish for you to become so again, so your activity might be limited. Do not push yourself beyond what you are able.”
Darcy heard the worry that lay beneath the slightly severe tone Richard used. “I will do my best,” he agreed.
Richard smiled. “I shall see that you do.” He nodded to Darcy’s man and made his way to the door. “I shall see you in the breakfast room. You must eat.” He stood at the door and waited until Darcy had given his agreement that he would eat before leaving the room.
~*~*~
After having eaten, Darcy made his way to Anne’s small sitting room. He paused outside the door for a moment, blew out a breath, drew another, and though his heart would not remain beating at the pace he wished it would but instead insisted on increasing its rhythm, he stepped into the room. Anne lay peacefully at one end. She looked no less fragile in death than she had in life.
“Aunt Catherine,” he said softly. He knew that though Anne looked as if she were sleeping, she was not, but still, he kept his voice low as speaking any louder seemed wrong.
His aunt looked up from her work of tying black ribbons around small packages. “I have one for you, Darcy.” She searched her basket and pulled out a larger item. It was wrapped in lavender cloth and tied with the same black ribbon she was using on her current project. “I selected a few items for you that I know she cherished.” She held the gift out to him. “She is still beautiful, is she not?”
Darcy turned his head to look once again at Anne. “Yes,” he answered. Anne’s was not a classical beauty but one of delicacy like a fine piece of china. “I have come to spend some time with her.”