A Touch of Night

by Sarah Hoyt

  Bingley found he had to accede to Elizabeth's wishes. He entered Darcy's room and spent some time at his side before retiring, asking that he be called should any change occur in his friend's condition. After he left, Elizabeth gave the same instructions regarding herself to Georgiana and retired to the cot in the dressing room.

  She could not bring herself to close the door and separate herself that much from the man she loved. It seemed to her as though she should be with him every minute, as though she was only fully alive near him, as if the very room darkened without him there.

  But she knew this was Georgiana's time with him now. And she knew Georgiana loved him too, even if in a completely different way. In any event, if Elizabeth had really followed her own wishes she would have lain again by his side, and she had to admit that now he was no longer in dread danger she had no excuse to indulge in behaviour that so recklessly abandoned all the rules of modesty, refinement, and propriety that she had grown up with. Elizabeth lay fully clothed upon the cot and drew the blankets up around her. She was alone in an uncomfortable, narrow little bed, but all her senses took her back to those hours that she had lain with her head upon Mr. Darcy's chest, listening to the ragged beating of his heart and stroking his cheek as the pain and fever ravaged through him.

  It was nearing dawn when Georgiana's soft call awoke her. Elizabeth hadn't expected to sleep at all, but weariness and relief had overcome her. She scarcely knew what she'd dreamed, but she had memories of a confused reverie that involved her hand on the dragon's muzzle, of her lips on the man's lips.

  "Miss Bennet!" came Georgiana's timid voice. "Are you awake?"

  Elizabeth answered the affirmative and, tearing herself from the happy feeling of those images, rose from the bed. The candles around Mr. Darcy were gutting, but weak light from a paling sky was seeping into the room. "How is your brother?" she asked, as she entered the main chamber.

  "I am sorry to disturb you," said Georgiana. "There has been no change -- his sleep is peaceful and undisturbed -- but I found my eyes closing and you had said you would sit up with Fitzwilliam if I became tired."

  "Indeed. Lie down upon the cot and take some rest, though I am afraid you will not find it a comfortable bed."

  "Oh, I'm so relieved that Fitzwilliam is improving that I'm sure I could sleep anywhere." Georgina took a last fond look at her brother, and gave her chair up to Elizabeth.

  Scales were no longer spangled across Darcy's forehead. His skin, though still pallid, had returned to its normal texture. In sleep, his face looked much younger and vulnerable. He looked scarcely turned twenty and completely trusting. Elizabeth longed to stroke his cheek where it sloped down from the more accentuated than usual cheekbone, but didn't dare do anything that might disturb his slumber.

  Settling down in the chair, she gazed upon him, letting her mind drift along tangents that she knew were better not to indulge in -- dreams of a life by his side. Dreams of watching the flying dragon, of sitting on cold winter evenings beside the man, reading by a roaring fire. Dreams of sharing the man's bed as his wedded wife. Of waking by his side every morning to see him sleeping like this.

  After two hours of sitting thusly while the birds in the garden entertained with a dawn chorus, the risen sun brightened the room considerably. Darcy stirred and moaned softly. Elizabeth interpreted it as a sign of thirst. She filled the tumbler with water from the kettle and, raising his head a little with her other hand, held it to his lips. He drank greedily for a moment and then laid his head back, as if exhausted from the exertion of such a simple action. A droplet of water shone on his lower lip.

  "Thank you," he managed to whisper with some effort.

  "Do not trouble yourself to speak," she said. "Lie still and sleep some more."

  His eyes flew open. "Elizabeth! You? Here?"

  "Shh," she said. "I nursed you through your fever. You are out of danger now but must rest to recuperate."

  "You should not be here." His voice was rasping and he began to get agitated. "I can't . . . ! What have I done? What have you done? You're an unmarried woman, alone with --"

  Elizabeth held his shoulders gently, stilling him. "There is no cause to be upset. I chose to nurse you and now I expect you to do as I say until you are better. Your sister will soon take my place and I will return home. Until then do not worry about anything -- only sleep."

  "My sister. Georgiana, here?" He relaxed beneath her touch and her voice seemed to sooth him. "Elizabeth," he whispered. "I must still be dreaming." And he drifted off into slumber once more. He did not wake again before Bingley came to take Elizabeth home and Georgiana arose to relieve her. She was loath to leave, but she knew she must.

  "Please keep me informed of his progress," she said urgently as Bingley assisted her up to his carriage.

  "I promise I will. Would you do me the favour of passing this note to your sister? I hope that tomorrow I way visit her at Longbourn again, but today I must stay with Darcy."

  "Indeed." Elizabeth accepted the note and then settled back against the comfortable seats for the short trip from Netherfield to her home. She wondered how her absence had been explained and hoped she was not to be welcomed by a scene from her mother or disapproving looks from her father.

  * * * *

  Longbourn looked amazingly calm in the early morning sunlight. Elizabeth arrived at a silent home. This silence was soon explained by the circumstance of Lydia and Kitty remaining abed. Jane was partaking breakfast in the small parlour.

  She rose when Elizabeth entered, more in concern for her than in politeness. "Elizabeth, you're home," Jane said. "We were just wondering . . . that is," she said, with a shy look. "Papa said we should order the carriage and go see how . . . how your patient did."

  "He is better, Jane. He is so much better. And . . . your Mr. Bingley sends you this."

  Jane took the letter with a blush and slipped it into a pocket in her skirts to read later, in private.

  "Father said you were to go to his study as soon as you returned," she said, and then rested anxious eyes upon Elizabeth's face. "Is Mr. Darcy truly recovered?"

  "There were moments when I thought we should lose him," said Elizabeth with a barely suppressed sob, "but, the Lord be praised, he is now on the mend."

  "Oh, thank Heaven!" cried Jane, hugging her sister. "Now go to father."

  Elizabeth crossed the dark corridor nimbly to tap on his study door. At his brusque "come in" she opened it and peeked around into his sanctuary.

  "You're back," said her father, stating the obvious, but it was the relief on his face that told her what she really wanted to know. "I fobbed off your absence to your mother and younger sisters with fairy stories that only held up because they are the silliest people in all of England. But I doubt I could have fooled even them for much longer. How fares the dragon?"

  Elizabeth had closed the door while he was speaking and rushed over to the arms he had held open to her. "He suffered most terribly, but Hill's herbs managed to overcome the evil magic of the RHW gun in the end."

  "I imagine a lot had to do with his powers of endurance," said Mr. Bennet. "He strikes me as a man of great determination. That which he wishes to do, he will manage however misguided he may be."

  "Oh, papa!"

  Mr. Bennet's eyes twinkled. "Well, well. Do you mean to have him?"

  Elizabeth coloured at her father's directness. "He has not asked me, and I do not expect that he ever will."

  Her father snorted. "More than a little misguided -- he is downright foolish. These young men and their nobility." He kissed the top of her head and continued. "I want nothing but the best for you, but if you are as in love with him as I believe you to be, I will see to it that you gain your happiness."

  She pushed away from her father. "No -- do not force his hand. I will not have him marry me out of some sense of . . . obligation. I will not throw myself at his head."

  "Lord save me from the two of you -- so intent to be sacrificial lambs. The man was
ready to give up all his worldly goods for you -- if that does not speak of the deepest love, I do not know what does."

  "It is his sense of honour, nothing more," said Elizabeth, hoping against hope that it was her father and not her who had the right of it. "He . . . he felt responsible for my predicament."

  Her father tsked. "And so he should. For if he has not managed to make you head over heels with him, I don't know who has." His eyes twinkled some more, crinkling on the corners as though he were on the verge of laughter. "And if he is not just as enamoured of you, I have lost my ability to judge."

  * * * *

  The next day Bingley came to visit Jane and was able to bring a good report of Darcy's recovery. By the end of the week all three, Bingley, Darcy, and Georgiana, made the trip from Netherfield to Longbourn together. Other than that he was paler and thinner than he had been heretofore, his elegant clothes hanging ever so slightly on his frame, and that he leaned heavily upon his friend's arm, Mr. Darcy showed no signs of his recent harrowing brush with death. It was impossible, in fact, to believe he'd come so close to dying so recently.

  Darcy and Elizabeth barely said two words to each other after the usual polite greetings, but they could not keep their gazes from travelling to each other, only to dart away as soon as one noticed the other looking. Mrs. Bennet was also remarkably silent, awed by the great presence before her. Jane and Bingley were perfectly oblivious to everything, wrapped in their own little cocoon of love. The saving grace was that Lydia and Kitty chattered away with Georgiana as if nothing were amiss.

  Finally it fell to Mr. Bennet to nudge his wife into orchestrating a little time alone for the two young couples.

  "I do not see what good you think it will do leaving Elizabeth in there with that taciturn gentleman. You know they cannot stand each other," she said to her husband in the hallway, after urging the younger girls to take the air in the rose garden. "They will just be in Jane and Bingley's way."

  "Trust me," said Mr. Bennet. "I will soon invite them into my study and the courting couple will be left with no chaperone at all."

  Mrs. Bennet seemed quite satisfied with that idea, though her husband knew when she finally grasped the depth of his machinations she would be in raptures. Ten thousand a year and a house in town were as good as a lord when it came to suitors for her girls.

  As soon as the parlour door had closed behind the elder Bennets, Mr. Darcy moved to a chair closer to Elizabeth. At his shortness of breath she said, "Do not overexert yourself, Mr. Darcy."

  "Ah, my forceful nurse has returned." Darcy laughed softly. "I rather hoped it was Miss Elizabeth I spoke to. But if it is Nurse Elizabeth, I shall hasten to obey or you may force another cup of that vile herbal remedy down my throat."

  "Can you actually remember it? I thought you too far gone in your delirium to be cognisant of anything that was occurring during that awful time." She blushed deeply at the thought of the things she had said to him as she had lain by his side.

  He leaned forward and said reassuringly, "I remember nothing, only the taste." Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before continuing on. "I must thank you -- I owe you my life. What you did was . . ."

  "I did the least I could do, Mr. Darcy. What were you willing to give up to free me? Let us talk no more about it."

  "I would do it over again," he said, his emerald eyes kindling.

  "And I too," she whispered.

  He reached out and took her hand. Stroked the back of it. "I want you to know that my feelings for you remain unchanged, but I realise I took a great liberty last April in what I asked of you. The fact cannot be overlooked that I am a dragon. Association with me has put your life in great danger and will continue to do so. I cannot ask that of you. And if we had children, it would always be possible that..."

  "Have I no say in what danger I am willing to take on?" asked Elizabeth in a steady voice, little above a whisper. "Are my feelings not to be considered at all?"

  "Your gratitude and your kindness to me are something I will cherish forever," said Darcy, "but I cannot allow you to throw yourself away on me. I am not worthy of such devotion to duty and honour. As much as I want more than anything else on earth to be able to call you my wife, your safety means much more to me than my own happiness."

  "It is neither duty nor gratitude -- it is love!" whispered Elizabeth, blushing and stammering.

  "After the heightened emotions of the past few days it may seem to you that it is love you feel for me, but I know your true feelings, though I believe they have softened somewhat since that day you expressed them so clearly to me." He put a hand out to shush her as she attempted to interrupt. "And your heart is so good I know you have long regretted what you said. But pity is not a valid basis for marriage either. You will find a whole man one day, one who is deserving of your love, a man without impediment whom you can love completely, and who will be able to give you the security I cannot. And the promise of a family untarnished by this horrific taint I carry."

  "Never," she said. She felt her voice tremble on the edge of tears and controlled it, forcefully, making it steady and matter of fact. "I shall never marry. You see, I could only marry for love, and I can never love anyone but you. So . . . I shall remain a spinster and teach Jane's ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very wretchedly indeed."

  Darcy put his arms about Elizabeth and held her gently, letting her adamant tears soak into his coat. "You only think it is love," he told her. "I cannot put you in harm's way like that again."

  "But Wickham is dead," she said with some vehemence.

  "Wickham is only a small part of the danger life with me would bring. He might have told someone. Someone else might discover it in the future. Are you truly prepared to see your husband beheaded in public? Or your children? To carry that shame the rest of your life, even if you evade death as a collaborator?"

  A discreet cough brought them apart.

  "I see you have come to an understanding," said Mr. Bennet who had managed to enter the room and come quite close without either of them noticing.

  Mr. Darcy looked at him in appeal. "Surely you can talk some sense into your daughter, sir. I love her too much to allow her to ally her life to mine. You would not want her life endangered, I am certain."

  "No, I would not," agreed Mr. Bennet. "I think it is time for the three of us to adjourn to my study."

  When he had them duly ensconced in his study, seated in comfortable chairs and suitably fortified by brandy and sherry respectively -- and Elizabeth's tears were dried -- Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy and said, "Is this how you deal with all your responsibilities? Shove them under the carpet and expect them to go away?'

  "I beg your pardon?" said Darcy, his eyes widening in shock.

  "You have compromised my daughter and yet you have no intention of doing what is right by her. I find that shameful, young man. I will not tolerate it. Not under my roof."

  "Compromised? Never! I have always treated Eli -- Miss Elizabeth -- with the utmost respect."

  Mr. Bennet leaned forward suddenly and frowned menacingly at Darcy. "Respect? Since when is it respectful to cavort naked in the company of an innocent young maiden? Since when is it not compromising for a lady to be alone in a bedchamber with a gentleman for any period of time? Did I not just a few minutes ago see you with your arms around my daughter in a most improper manner? And yet, somehow, you expect me to support you in this willful, disrespectful, ill-treatment of the most prized of my progeny."

  "I would never ill-treat her! I love her more than life itself. But you must see that it would be selfish and unfair of me to expect her to bear the responsibility of all that I am burdened with."

  Mr. Bennet poured himself another drink and stared straight into Darcy's eyes for a full minute before responding. "I would not have chosen a dragon for my daughter," he finally said with a sigh. "I know the dangers of this condition, Mr. Darcy. At least as well as you do. It has forced me to break my wife
's heart and lead a retired country existence instead of the merry life amid the ton that she -- and I, once upon a time -- would have preferred. It has forced me to isolate myself in this library, particularly at certain times of the month. But . . . I am alive, and I do have a family.

  "For good or ill, my daughter has set her heart upon having you. If you cannot respect her virtue, at least respect her intelligence. She is capable of making her own decisions and living up to them. She knows the dangers and she's enough of an adult to understand the responsibility. She is just the wife you need. And you will not be encumbered by her not knowing your secret. You will have a full and willing partner to your life. The sooner you get off your high horse of overblown honor the better. The first time it put my Elizabeth in danger, this time it has made her intolerably miserable. I am beginning to wish you had succumbed to your injuries after all and stopped cutting up my peace."

  "Papa!" cried Elizabeth. "You are being unfair. Mr. Darcy is the best of men. You are judging his nobility too harshly."

  "If he were less noble, I would be wishing you joy at this moment, Elizabeth my dear."

  "Mr. Bennet," said Darcy, rising to his full height. "Would you do me the great kindness of granting me a few minutes alone with your daughter? Here in this room? At once?"

  "It would be my pleasure," said Mr. Bennet. "My cards have all been played, and to admirable effect, I believe." He smiled broadly as he left the room.

  Darcy had sat down again, and held both his hands out to Elizabeth. She took them readily.

  "Do not think I did not want to marry you. There is nothing I want more. I thought I was being unselfish and noble, but I see now I was being boorish, presumptuous, and completely foolish. Your happiness is my greatest wish. Will you . . . will you allow me to say how ardently I love and admire you, and how happy I would be to hear you say you will accept my hand in marriage?"