Just then, she winked at him and curtsied for Colonel Fitzwilliam, waiting cheekily for an introduction that obviously would not come. Bothersome minx, Darcy thought even as he smiled into his glass and turned again to his cousin. Richard was just finishing his order to a footman.
“I did not know you had plans to call on us, Richard, or I would have taken pains to remain at home.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed jovially, pulling a genuine smile from Darcy. His amiable nature almost always brought out either the best or the worst of him and tonight he was determined it would be the best.
“Would you, now? Forgive me if I find that humorous. Surely, Darcy, you do not think me stupid?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Darcy, other than our little ‘chat’ last evening in your study, you have most earnestly been avoiding me since you returned from Hertfordshire.”
Darcy frowned, and while he was aware that Elizabeth had moved closer at the mention of her home county, he was more concerned that his cousin would not provide the lift to his moods that he wished for after such a long, exhausting day of mental tug-o-war with his grip on reality. The day weighed on Darcy: from the surprise encounter in his chambers after his bath, to the entire episode in the breakfast room, to his visit with his solicitor. It was, indeed, a battle of wills that he was beginning to fear he was losing. Nothing he did seemed to diminish her allure in the least. He had even thought at one moment in the afternoon that physical exercise might help tire his mind of its playacting with his senses. He had gone, determined and hopeful, to the Fencing Academy on Bond Street but he only lasted there a few minutes — especially when he saw the wide eyes and pink cheeks Elizabeth displayed, as she looked at all the men in shirtsleeves practicing their swordplay. No, it was only gentlemanly of him to keep her exposure to that at a minimum. At least that is what he told himself. He did not even consider Gentlemen Jackson’s next door for he knew the men there wore even less. Instead of finding the physical release he wished for to help temper this fight, he found himself ridiculously jealous of the look on Elizabeth’s face when she caught sight of the fencers. Idiocy! I am possessive of even my own hallucinations! Becoming aware his mental ruminations had been noticed by Colonel Fitzwilliam, Darcy endeavored to be more attentive.
Searching his memory for his cousin’s last words about trying to avoid him, Darcy thus replied with feigned nonchalance, “I am sorry you think so. It was not my purposeful intention to — ”
“Oh give over!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with another laugh. “It certainly was, and I now know why. Do you not remember your little revelation last evening?”
Darcy could feel his cheeks color slightly, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I do, and if you will humor me with another topic, I would be most pleased to remain in company with you this evening.”
Darcy watched his cousin’s brows rise while considering the challenge. His food arrived, and true to its power over his cousin, the meal won over Colonel Fitzwilliam to Darcy’s side, for he then said, “Very well, for the time being, Darcy, but only because this smells divine and I do not wish to spoil my appetite in verbal wrestling with you over your lady love.”
“Ohhh, how intriguing. A lady love, Mr. Darcy, do tell!” Elizabeth’s laughter caused Darcy to wince, and although he detected an edge to it, he paid no more attention to it.
Elizabeth took up a chair at the table and observed the two cousins quite curiously. She liked this cousin of Darcy’s at once, for he had a lively, cheerful manner convincing her immediately that this was a man whose company she would enjoy. Darcy seemingly ignored her except for the slight tightness about his eyes when she laughed with his cousin. She dearly wished she could make the acquaintance of this gentleman in truth, for he was a man prone to good humor, and she dearly loved to laugh.
It was not until much later in the evening, after many hours of intelligent conversation — conversation that astonished Elizabeth with yet another unexpected and begrudgingly admirable aspect of Darcy’s character — that Elizabeth even learned the name of Darcy’s cousin. It had happened when, surprisingly enough, an acquaintance of hers came up to the two gentlemen.
“Mr. Bingley! Hello, my good man. Please join us,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said loudly when he saw the man enter the room.
Elizabeth watched with a tinge of regret for Jane as a jovial Mr. Bingley strode towards their table.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, a pleasure, sir!”
Darcy greeted his good friend warmly also. When Bingley joined their table, he again smiled at everyone, though Darcy could see it did not reach his eyes — and had not since leaving Netherfield. A guilty thread wrapped around his conscience, and a nagging doubt picked at Darcy as it had, on occasion, for weeks. Furthermore, Darcy sincerely hoped — though it made no sense why as she was only a creation of his own mind — that Elizabeth did not notice the pinch to Bingley’s features. Darcy did not want to examine why he should worry about her when she was not really the sister of Miss Bennet, not in the flesh. His actions to separate the two were done with the best of intentions and probably were also for the best.
Darcy did not stay long after Bingley’s arrival, though the company of two such amiable men was adequate distraction for Darcy, despite the musical laughter and impertinent interjections Elizabeth made occasionally. The growing discomfort he was feeling with regards to Bingley made him leave — that and the sheer exhaustion from the day’s efforts at forging his way back to sanity. He dared not stay in company longer, for more than once he had caught himself smiling towards the empty chair to his left when Elizabeth commented. He was certain at least his cousin had noticed. No, Darcy just wanted to claim his bed and sink into sleep’s oblivion.
“Gentlemen,” Darcy said standing. “I believe I shall leave you now.”
“Good evening, Darcy,” Bingley replied with sincerity, making Darcy wince slightly.
“A pleasure as always, Cousin. It will not be a long farewell for either of us, for I shall see you both tomorrow at my mother’s ball. You still plan to attend, Darcy?”
Though wishing he could evade the obligation under his new circumstances, Darcy knew it could not be avoided. “Of course, Richard. I shall see you both tomorrow. Adieu.”
The ride home was uncomfortable at best. Such sweet torture only added to Darcy’s growing impatience for sleep. He had no choice but to close his eyes or look at Elizabeth seated directly across from him. And when she spoke, her voice drifted in the small space, wrapping him up like a warm blanket.
“I must say that I am having a most fascinating and educational experience, Mr. Darcy. I should never have believed I would see the inside of the hallowed gentlemen’s clubs and academies.”
Though Darcy kept his eyes firmly shut, he could almost picture the blush spread across her cheeks as she spoke of the Fencing Academy; the slight tremor in her voice gave her away aptly. He schooled his features to show no emotion, though despite his fatigue, he was experiencing many.
Their carriage pulled up to his house then, and with his escape in close proximity, Darcy made haste up the stairs to the open door and his waiting butler. With barely a greeting, he tossed his greatcoat, hat and gloves to the servants and again took the stairs two at a time to his chambers.
Elizabeth, now accustomed to the invisible thread between them, kept up her dialogue. “You will have to pardon your master, Mr. Carroll. He seems to be quite put out this evening.”
Elizabeth startled and then laughed when it looked almost as if the butler had heard her as his bow to acknowledge Mr. Darcy was perfectly timed in response to her words. Though she too knew herself to be tired, despite the intriguing aspect of not really feeling like she was, Elizabeth had decided that, until Darcy acknowledged her, she would endeavor to pay no heed to the growing discomfort and mounting evidence that she was perhaps trapped in something other than a dream.
When they arrived in his chambers this time, Elizabeth was better prepared
to enter though perhaps not immune. The moment she crossed the threshold, her cheeks heated, and her heart raced. Thankful in that moment for his studied avoidance, Elizabeth was glad to see that he had immediately gone into his dressing room with a resounding slam of the door. Therefore, although she was in the man’s bedchamber, she was at least alone for a time.
When he returned, she was altogether too mortified to say anything for he was once again in his breeches and loose shirtsleeves. She was aware that he was quite similarly affected by her presence, for he, too, blushed even though he made no attempt to look at her. Quite suddenly, he stopped. She saw him clench his eyes tightly shut. He was in the act of climbing into his bed when, suddenly, his eyes opened, full of some fire though not necessarily anger.
He then proclaimed loud enough to startle her, “ENOUGH! THIS WILL NOT DO!”
Stunned momentarily by this outburst, Elizabeth quickly smiled incredulously and shook her head with a growing humor. She watched him maneuver behind the posts of the bed and with a few physical grunts and groans managed to edge the bed from the wall.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“A man has the right to sleep undisturbed in his own chambers!” he replied with agitated strain.
Elizabeth began to laugh then as she watched Darcy, after much effort, manage to push his bed into the center of the room. His sheer physical strength was not lost on her, but she found her laughter a good disguise for the warmth spreading across her face. His valet must have heard the commotion for he entered the room only to see Darcy’s redecorating.
“Sir? Can I help you?” The incredulous tone of the valet had Elizabeth clutching her sides with renewed mirth as tears began to swim in her eyes.
“Rogers! Yes, come here man and help me move this blasted bed. It is damned heavy.”
The valet came to his aid immediately, and together they made greater progress.
“Forgive me if I speak out of place, sir, but may I ask why you are wishing to move your bed?” Rogers huffed through his exertion.
“A man deserves to sleep alone if he wishes, Rogers. It is just plain simple as that,” Darcy replied between shoves.
Elizabeth chuckled again at the confused look of his valet who must have been well trained, for despite not understanding Darcy in the least, he said no more. For Elizabeth’s part, she found that, the further the men moved the bed to the other side of the room, the closer she was able to venture to that side as well. Soon they were finished and with a wipe across his forehead, Darcy thanked and dismissed his valet.
Turning then to Elizabeth, he locked eyes with her. His heavy breathing and dark eyes caused her own breathing to hitch and the laughter to die in her throat. He walked towards her then with purposeful strides. His eyes focused in a heated exchange with hers. As he neared, her heart beat faster and faster, her hand coming up to her neck to hide the pulse. He said nothing as he came right up to her. He stopped, and she watched his eyes roam hungrily over her face. He leaned in slightly and Elizabeth found her breath quite taken away under his paralyzing gaze. After only a moment, he turned and walked around her.
She spun around to see him open the door behind her and, with a wave of his hand in a gentlemanly gesture and a partial bow, indicated she should pass through the doorway.
All curious, Elizabeth walked through the open door and found presumably the mistress’s bedchamber. She turned around just in time to see him bow once again and say, “Your rooms, madam.”
* * *
Jane entered Elizabeth’s bedchamber and found her mother near her sister’s side. In a turn of events that surprised everyone, Mrs. Bennet had somberly stayed with Elizabeth nearly the entire day. Jane pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders as she crept further into the room. The night’s darkness was only fought off with the glow of the candles beside the bed.
“Hello, Mama,” Jane said as she took the seat near her mother.
“She has taken a bit of broth, which is a good sign, Mr. Jones said. We are to help her swallow some as often as we can.”
Jane nodded. She recognized her mother’s need to report, her need to feel some control over the situation. “I heard him speaking to Papa. ’Tis a good thing, Mama. He said that she would not be so pink nor have grumbling in her belly if her body did not wish to heal.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right, child.”
“Do you not see, Mama?” Jane urged her mother who still looked as if to despair over Elizabeth’s state of being. “She would not be hungry if she was not going to come back to us.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled wanly at her eldest daughter and patted her cheek. She understood Jane’s good nature would believe any hopeful news from the doctor. She had her own doubts and they were riddled with a private pain.
“You should rest, Jane. You will need your sleep to heal as well.” Mrs. Bennet turned towards her second daughter’s resting body. “I will stay with Elizabeth until Hill returns with more water for the basin.”
Jane nodded but, before standing, turned to her sister and, holding her warm, still hand, said, “Lizzy, dear. We need you to come back to us. Take the time you need to rest, to heal” — her voice hitched with emotion then — “but do come back to me, to us soon.”
Mrs. Bennet waited until the door closed behind Jane before she turned her eyes back to Elizabeth. Mr. Jones had said that it could not hurt, and perhaps may indeed help to talk to Elizabeth — to remind her and encourage her to wake. Mrs. Bennet hoped he was right.
Tentatively, Mrs. Bennet leaned over to rest on the bed near her daughter and with a shaky voice said, “Lizzy . . . I . . . ” She swallowed and sitting up again lifted her jaw. “You are a very headstrong, foolish girl who does not know your own interest. But I shall make you know it.”
Mrs. Bennet’s bravado was considerably reduced in its force by the tremor in her tone and the tears pooling in her eyes. She clasped her daughter’s hand in hers and bringing it to her cheek, placed her other hand on Elizabeth’s cheek.
“You will come back to us, my Lizzy.” With a sniff, she added, “Or you will not hear the end of it from me, child!”
Chapter 8
Standing near the window in Darcy’s study, Elizabeth watched the fevered activity on the street below as she contemplated her troubling reality. She had now spent two days in this dreamlike world and still had no way of knowing how she got there, how she was to leave, or most distressing of the all, why she was tethered to the man studiously ignoring her at the desk behind her. With a private smile, Elizabeth remembered his acknowledgement last evening when he moved the bed and ushered her into her own chambers. It was thoughtful, though at the time she found his actions amusing — mostly because she knew that his wish for peace from her was what provoked his redecorating. With the light of dawn came a renewed determination, it seemed, on the gentleman’s part to continue this charade of ignoring her as his plan to facilitate her disappearance. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and even emitted a small laugh at the ridiculousness and stubborn impracticality of the idea.
She had to acknowledge her disappointment that he had reverted back to avoiding her. The longer she was captured in this state, the more certain she felt that the only way she — nay, they! — could solve this riddle was to work together. That he was again pretending she did not exist and doing it better than he was yesterday was only frustrating her further. She wished she knew his thoughts so that she could provoke him with better success. That morning when she had managed to successfully brush her fingers through his sickeningly sweet coffee, he had not even blinked an eye. Her comment on his preference for so much sugar caused not so much as a twitch of his lip. All she received for her efforts today was a shiver of disgust at the taste of the coffee that engulfed her — and without any other foods around at the time to wash away its lingering essence.
Now much of the day had passed, and Mr. Darcy had spent it all as if she were nothing more than a specter, not a lady of his acquaintance. Elizabeth frowned as sh
e turned around to look at the gentleman. She was no longer sure she was not a spirit, and that thought frightened her greatly. Her frown remained while her eyes took in Mr. Darcy’s composed, elegant person. His blue superfine coat fit his shoulders superbly. The folds of his cravat were impeccable and up to par with the height of fashion. He was a man who very much looked the part of a gentleman.
She walked closer to him and took up the seat across from his desk. His head was bent in serious study of the papers before him. Occasionally, his hand scratched his face or pushed back a lock of hair. Mesmerized, she could not look away when he fought that errant lock of dark hair, exposing a faint scar near his hairline she had not noticed before. It had the same aged look of some childhood scars. A wave of tenderness surprised and assailed her senses then as she contemplated what this man might have been like as a little boy. She could almost see his knee breeches covered in dirt and a makeshift fishing rod in his hand, the same unruly locks of curls framing his boyish face.
Embarrassed at her unexpected thoughts for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth tried to brush them off with a bit of humor as she always did when she was uncomfortable.
“I could grant you the loan of one of my hairpins, Mr. Darcy. Or I am certain Miss Darcy would have an extra. I find they are extraordinarily useful at keeping hair out of the face.”
She was not surprised when he did not react, though that did not keep her from feeling some disappointment. Without artifice, Elizabeth leaned closer as she studied his face. From this vantage point, she took notice of the caramel flecks in his eyes despite the dark lashes attempting to hide them as he read the papers.
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