Bewitched, Body and Soul: Miss Elizabeth Bennet

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Bewitched, Body and Soul: Miss Elizabeth Bennet Page 3

by P. O. Dixon


  “No!” Elizabeth cried back above the deafening rain. What would have been the point in returning inside with him when he only meant to mock her? He certainly did not mean to help her. The sooner her hired coach returned, the sooner she might fend for herself.

  “Why are you even standing here?” His elevated voice barely resonated over the rain’s fierce drumming. “I assure you the chances of a passing coach are minuscule.”

  “I have made arrangements, Mr. Darcy. My coach will return for me.”

  “Then where is it? Come inside. I shall arrange for your safe return to Cheapside once my valet returns with my carriage.”

  She pretended not to hear his magnanimous offer. I would never allow such a thing. What might my uncle and aunt think in beholding such an indecorous spectacle?

  At last, her carriage, no—not her carriage, but a carriage, nonetheless, rounded the corner. Elizabeth stepped forward, nearer to the curb. Darcy stepped forward, as well, attempting to keep her sheltered by his umbrella. Elizabeth held out her hand in vain. The coachman had no intention of stopping, making avoidance of what was to come impossible. Swished puddles of street water splattered the two of them from head to toe.

  Chapter 4

  Darcy and Elizabeth were drenched. He tossed his umbrella aside, and along with it, any semblance of propriety, and took Elizabeth by the hand. Together, they raced up the stairs. Dripping water along the fine flooring and the exquisite carpets of Darcy House, they did not stop until they were once again standing before the warm fire in Darcy’s study.

  Darcy stood before Elizabeth and stared into her eyes an endless moment.

  “Let me take your wet cloak and settle you by the fire.”

  She offered no objection. Her teeth chattered as a result of the cold seeping through her body. Brushing her hand aside, he started unfastening her cloak, as if mindless of the impropriety, as if thinking only of her needs.

  Before she could voice her protest aloud, he lowered her sopping-wet cloak from her shoulders and tossed it aside. The street water on top of the pouring rain had soaked through her outer garment, leaving Elizabeth’s day dress wet. Her petticoats were sodden, as well. Darcy quickly removed his greatcoat. Next, he removed his jacket and placed it about her shoulders in a manner intimating his pressing desire to shelter her. Grateful for its warmth, Elizabeth clutched the lapels together and sat on the settee. The pleasant hint of masculinity lingered in the garment. She found his jacket arousing, yet comforting, and did not resist the temptation to breathe in its cosiness.

  Darcy filled a fresh snifter with brandy. Returning to her side, he handed her the glass. “Drink this. It will warm you from the inside.”

  Elizabeth eyed the glass and frowned. She feared its aroma might just as likely bring on a bout of nausea. The last thing in the world she needed was to fall ill in his home. Darcy removed it from her hand. His fingers lingered about hers for a moment. Elizabeth found it all rather confusing, the discordance of her body and her mind. The wet clothes clinging to her body did not help, but somehow his attentions were calming. “What may I offer you? You must drink something warm. Your voice sounds raspy. Would you enjoy a cup of tea?”

  “You said no servants are in the house.” Elizabeth swallowed, soothing her aching throat. “I do not mean to put you to any trouble, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Do you think me incapable of preparing a pot of tea, madam?”

  Elizabeth did not respond. Her expression said everything.

  “Very well then; I must prove my domestic prowess.”

  Darcy reached across Elizabeth’s shoulder, in a most intimate manner, and retrieved the blanket she had seen earlier. “May I?” he said as he replaced his jacket with it. His jacket, she noticed, was nearly soaked through. “I believe you will find this more comfortable.” He gently wrapped the blanket about her shoulders. “Stay here and warm yourself by the fire. I shall be back in no time at all.”

  Darcy stood to quit the room. Hesitating at the door, he turned and looked back. “Promise me that you will await my return.”

  After nodding her assent, Elizabeth found herself alone in his study, reflecting on the unexpected turn of events.

  My day was not supposed to turn out this way. Elizabeth shivered before the fire. How she longed to remove her muslin gown and a few other unmentionables to wring them by hand. That is exactly what she would have done, if she had thought she could manage it before Mr. Darcy returned from the kitchen.

  His opinion of me must certainly sink should he return and find me standing in his study nearly undressed. Elizabeth took her shoes off and placed them on the hearth to dry. Surely, he would have no objections. Feeling a bit too weak to continue standing, Elizabeth wrapped herself in the blanket again and returned to the settee.

  It simply cannot be helped. I must remove my wet clothing. When Mr. Darcy returns, I shall request the privacy of another room that I might disrobe whilst my dress dries by the fire. Otherwise ... otherwise, I might catch my death of cold.

  Shivering, Elizabeth rested her head on one of the pillows. Her weary body moaned. For her aching muscles, she blamed the lost battle she had waged in her quest for sleep the night before. Now it had caught up with her.

  Today has been the worst day of my life.

  * * *

  Darcy entered the room bearing a silver tray laden with cups, sugar, cream, and tea, as well as a tea urn filled with hot water. Setting up for tea was more trouble than he had imagined. It had taken a bit longer than he had thought, but he was pleased with the outcome. It would have taken even longer had his valet not anticipated his needs and laid everything out. He had even prepared the fire. All Darcy had needed to do was boil the water. Mindful his guest might be hungry, he regretted his inability to offer her anything of sustenance, not even a piece of bread. Darcy set the tea service on the side table the same way as he had witnessed his staff performing their duties. He poured a cup.

  “How do you take your tea, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Silence.

  Darcy turned to face Elizabeth and noticed her shoes arranged by the fireplace hearth to dry. She lay curled up on the couch; her hair, now loosened, cascaded over the cover, her stocking feet peeked from underneath.

  He returned the cup to the tray and walked to the settee. “Miss Elizabeth.”

  No answer. He knelt beside her.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly. Though her hair was nearly dry, beads of sweat had replaced what had been remnants of raindrops along the edges of her hairline. He placed the back of his hand to her forehead. Its shocking warmth startled him.

  “Please, open your eyes ... Miss Elizabeth.”

  His hushed bidding slowly awakened her. “Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yes, I am here. You fell asleep.”

  She slowly managed to sit up. The blanket was nearly as wet as her dress by now. “I hate to impose ... any more than I have, sir, but ... I must—”

  “Yes, you must remove your wet things. I will show you to another room.”

  With some trouble, Elizabeth stood, unsteadily. Darcy took her by her elbow.

  “Are you certain you are all right? You look—”

  Elizabeth endeavoured to take a step on her own. “Yes, I shall be—” She collapsed into Darcy’s strong, waiting arms. His cool demeanour tempered what might have been cause for panic. He needed to get her into bed, and then summon his physician. If only his valet would return with the carriage!

  Darcy glanced at the mantle clock. Where is Waters? He should have returned by now. What is keeping him?

  With Elizabeth now securely in his arms, Darcy beheld the rise and fall of her chest. The next several hours will tell the tale. I shall keep watch over her.

  * * *

  “Is Lizzy planning to join us for dinner this evening?” Mr. Gardiner said. A man of sense and fortitude, he was the younger brother of Elizabeth’s mother. Through his industrious efforts, he managed a profitable business in Cheapside. He worked hard, and a
s always, a long day in one of his warehouses found him ravenous for a hearty evening meal.

  “I do not suppose she will. I have sent a tray up to her room. Poor thing, I went up to check on her earlier. My light knocks went unanswered.” Mrs. Gardiner set her sewing aside. “I supposed she was fast asleep. Mrs. North prepared a special tea for her that she might rest better. I did not have the heart to enter the room and risk disturbing her after her restless night.”

  “Yes, I understand she has been a godsend in helping to care for the children since her arrival from Longbourn, but I reckon their sufferings have been passed on to her.”

  “I tend to agree. I pray a full day’s rest has made a difference in restoring her health. She has been cooped up in this house for too long, and you know how she enjoys long walks.”

  “I do indeed, though I dare say a long walk in Cheapside hardly compares to one of her countryside rambles in Hertfordshire.”

  “I agree. This might explain why she has not often ventured out-of-doors. Shall we proceed to the dining room for dinner?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Gardiner’s stomach voiced its concurrence with loud rumblings. Chuckling, he patted his belly. “By the way, my dear, how was your visit with Lady Susan?”

  “The visit was delightful; though, she was rather distressed our niece was unable to accompany me. She looks forward to making Lizzy’s acquaintance.”

  “Yes, of course. She continues to be of a mind to take Lizzy under her wing for the Season, does she not?”

  “Indeed, she does. What a good thing for our Lizzy, do you not agree? Who knows? Lady Susan may be of assistance to our sister in helping find a husband for one of her daughters.”

  “Let us take one step at a time, my dear. One step at a time—” The housemaid appeared from around the corner, interrupting his speech. “Betsy, how did you find my niece?”

  “Yes, Betsy, did Lizzy have anything to eat?”

  “No ma’am—” Betsy’s countenance revealed her exhaustion and dismay.

  “Why in heaven not? She must eat something.” Mrs. Gardiner turned to her husband. “You go ahead. I shall join you after looking in on Lizzy.”

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Miss Elizabeth is not in her room. I looked everywhere.” Betsy wrung her hands together nervously. “She is nowhere to be found.”

  * * *

  Darcy carried Elizabeth upstairs. With the size of the house and the lack of staff, save his valet, he determined it best to put Elizabeth in the room next to his ... the mistress’s suite. That way, he would be near her throughout the night. He found the room colder than he thought advisable and opted instead to carry her into his room and lay her upon his bed, whilst he laid a fire in the adjoining apartment. He had no wish to leave her alone in such a feverish state, not even long enough to prepare the room. He had no other choice.

  He resisted the temptation to run his fingers through her loosened hair. Dark, cascading the expanse of her shoulders and down her back, he had seen it thus several times in Hertfordshire, the first time being the day she walked three miles from Longbourn to Netherfield Park. Her eyes, brightened by the exercise, had cast a spell upon him. Not a day had passed since that day that he had not thought of her.

  He once again recalled Elizabeth’s penchant for walking, a sign of her strong constitution in his estimation. Seeing her as such, he prayed she had not succumbed to some dreadful illness. Perhaps the foul air of Cheapside has led to her malaise or maybe it was the exposure to the cold rain.

  He covered her with a bed cloth. “Rest here whilst I prepare the other room. I shall not take long.”

  Having prepared the fire as well as venturing to his sister’s room to secure night clothing, he returned to his room. Elizabeth had not stirred. Her breathing remained uneasy, increasing his anxiety over the extent of her discomfort. He carried her through the adjoining door between his room and the mistress’s suite and laid her upon the bed.

  “Please forgive me for this horrible breach in decorum, Miss Elizabeth.

  “I have placed you in the room adjacent to my own. In case you should stir during the night, awaken, and find yourself in a strange and unfamiliar environment, you will find me on the other side of the door.

  “We are hardly strangers, you and I. Did we not spend several nights under the same roof in Hertfordshire?

  “Now, I must get you out of your wet clothing.” Darcy sat on the bed next to her.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered as he began the meticulous tasks of a lady’s maid.

  An hour later, Darcy stood outside the apartment door talking with his valet in hushed whispers. Having seen to the task of notifying essential household staff of the master’s early return to town as well as seeing to it that they assumed their posts immediately, the valet awaited his next assignment.

  “Once you have notified my physician of the situation, speak with my solicitor. Surely, he will know how to contact Mr. Gardiner. The Gardiners must be informed of their niece’s condition as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Is there anything more I might do?”

  “Bingley will be at the club by now. Meet him there and make my excuses.”

  “What shall I tell him, sir?”

  “Tell him that I am otherwise engaged.” Darcy frowned. “Tell him that I will make it up to him tomorrow.”

  “If you will pardon my asking, sir, what should Miss Darcy be told of your desire for her to return to your home ahead of schedule?”

  “Tell her that I need her, as soon as can be.”

  The valet’s conflicted countenance recalled Darcy to the delicate nature of his predicament. No doubt, his relatives, Lord and Lady Matlock, would have many questions when Waters arrived at their doorstep. “My aunt and uncle must know nothing of this situation. I shall rely upon your good judgment.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth stirred. Her mind clouded. I must leave here. My aunt and uncle will be worried. She noted the rich fabric of her gown, the soft bed, the smoothing fragrance of chamomile, the warmth of the fire.

  I shall lie here for another five minutes. Certainly, no more than ten.

  Hours later, Elizabeth awakened with the sense of having been trapped in the midst of sleep and near consciousness, yet with a strange notion of having been cared for ... a strong yet tender voice hushing her coughs, a gentle hand resting upon her own. She opened her eyes and slowly took in her surroundings. The majestic room had not been a figment of her dreams. An opened book on the bedside table confirmed her suspicions of having been watched over. A maid scurrying about caught Elizabeth’s notice. Had she been the one who cared for her? Once again, she wrapped herself in sleep’s warm embrace.

  Later still, the moistened cloth dabbing her forehead, her cheeks, and along her neckline soothed her hot skin. Elizabeth opened her eyes.

  “Good morning, milady.”

  Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow. The magnificent drapes, the rich mahogany poster bed, and the fine silken sheets—every corner of the room whispered opulence. No, she had not been dreaming. Her chest hurt. Her fog-filled head and sore throat notwithstanding, she whispered, “Where am I?”

  “You are in the mistress’s suite, milady.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Anna. I am Miss Darcy’s maid. You gave us quite a scare. The master’s physician said your collapse last evening was due to fever. How do you feel this morning?”

  “I—” Elizabeth began coughing.

  “Please, milady, do not strain yourself. I shall fetch some hot tea. I shall only be a moment.”

  “No, no. I must go. I must—”

  “Pardon my saying so, but I fear you are in no condition to go anywhere.”

  “I cannot remain here. My aunt will be worried.”

  “Do not fret. Miss Darcy mentioned that your aunt is bringing some of your things around this morning. Everything is arranged.”

  “My aunt is coming here? She cannot discover me here.” Elizabeth
fingered the sleeve of her exquisite nightgown. “Where is my clothing? I must dress. She cannot find me here.”

  Anna did as told and aided Elizabeth in dressing. Moments later, a young woman of Elizabeth’s height and figure and the face of an angel entered the room.

  “Miss Elizabeth? Why are you out of bed?”

  Elizabeth eyed the young lady with circumspection.

  “Forgive me. I am Georgiana Darcy. I looked in on you earlier this morning. I did not expect to find you up and about.”

  “Miss Darcy,” she began slowly. The exertion of dressing, even with Anna’s assistance, had drained her energy. Elizabeth sat down. “I appreciate your kindness. Anna said that my aunt is arriving with some of my things. I had much rather she did not find me here. I would rather meet her in the drawing room.”

  “You are not well. You had much better return to bed and get some rest.”

  “I cannot rest ... not here ... in—”

  “The mistress’s suite,” Anna completed Elizabeth’s sentiments in a tone conveying concurrence.

  “Very well, Miss Elizabeth.” Georgiana turned her attention to Anna. “I hate to impose upon you, but with the absence of so many staff, will you see that the Blue bedroom is prepared for the remainder of Miss Elizabeth’s stay.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied and left the room.

  “That is not necessary. I doubt I will remain here.”

  A light tap at the door drew their attention.

  “Miss Darcy, Mrs. Gardiner has arrived. She is in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hart.”

  Upon his leave-taking, Georgiana placed her hand upon Elizabeth’s. “Are you certain you are up to receiving your aunt downstairs?”

  “I am afraid I have no other choice. May we proceed?”

  Elizabeth smiled through the nagging muscle aches rendered by the long journey from the mistress’s suite to the drawing room. Georgiana released her grip of Elizabeth’s arm and walked over to greet her guest.

 

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