Darcy shifted in his seat, becoming more uncomfortable but nevertheless maintaining his air of amusement. “My bed?”
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Richard spat out a word not often said outside of the gaming rooms at gentlemen’s clubs. Darcy startled, years of ingrained decorum causing him to be conscious once again of Elizabeth being within earshot of language no lady should hear.
“Watch your language, Richard!” he admonished immediately, then regretted just as quickly. Darcy had never before cared about his cousin’s cant and occasionally also utilized a few choice words himself when flustered, but never in the presence of a lady.
He watched his cousin’s brows shoot up in amazement. Richard looked about him at the empty room and returned his sardonic eyes to his cousin. “Seriously?”
Richard was beginning to feel the effects of several glasses of strong port and, thus freed from his usual self-control, purposefully offered up another round of expletives that would make sailors blush, with the express purpose of provoking his cousin. So far that evening, Richard had not seen any unusual behavior, with the exception of his cousin being posed rather oddly when he first entered the room. If Darcy was indeed addled, Richard thought provoking him might force Darcy to see it himself.
“That is quite enough!” Darcy growled loudly. He threw a pardoning glance at Elizabeth and was slightly mollified to see that she was covering her mouth with her hand, only suppressing a laugh rather than looking scandalized.
Sighing and falling back into his chair, Darcy rubbed his temples. “What is it you want, Richard?” he said tiredly.
His cousin’s hard tone did not change as he replied, “Your bed, sir?”
“What about it?”
“Enough with the games, Darcy. Why did you move your bed?”
“From nanny to decorator, Richard?” Darcy tried to jest, but upon seeing the stern face of his cousin, sobered and relented. “I assume you refer to the fact that I have repositioned my bed.”
“Why?”
“I do not see why I need to give a reason. May I ask to what these questions tend?”
“Merely to the illustration of your character. I am trying to make it out.”
Darcy once again looked beyond his cousin to Elizabeth, seeing that she too remembered a time they had engaged in a similar conversation. Returning his attention to his cousin, Darcy said earnestly, “I do not see why you should have to illustrate my character, Richard. I should think you would already know it.”
“Ahh, but I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
“Is that so?”
Richard, drowsy from the large amounts of alcohol, lost a bit of the steel in his voice. “Just tell me why you felt the need to rearrange your room.”
“I will need to speak with my valet, it seems. A man’s privacy holds no value these days. It is too bad really, he was a good valet — a dream with a cravat,” Darcy said flippantly. “I shall miss him. In fact, it would seem I have spies among many of my staff. But to answer your question, I found my sleep was disturbed when the bed was on the other side of the room.”
Darcy saw his cousin was not satisfied and thus added evasively. “I have a better view of the windows now, and — ” Darcy stopped abruptly when his cousin snorted in disbelief. “Blast it all, Richard. I do not have to explain myself to you in the least. I am master of this house, and if I wish to move my bed, I may certainly do so. Hell, I may even have every article of furniture redone in the hideous orange Miss Bingley always wears!”
This statement caused his cousin to break into laughter, easing the tension in the room considerably. Slowly Darcy joined him, especially when he heard the delightful, bewitching sound of laughter coming from about the window.
However, Elizabeth was slightly worried on Darcy’s account for this line of questioning, knowing that her presence was the cause of his strange behaviors, even drawing the attention of his staff. Though Darcy was easily explaining away everything presented to him thus far, she feared it would get worse.
After another minute, Richard sighed and, in a calmer tone than he had used all evening, said earnestly, “Darcy your staff is concerned. Georgiana is concerned. And I am concerned. You have been heard speaking to yourself, laughing even — and do not proceed to defend that point; I know you are not a man normally prone to laughter. And you have ordered foods you do not like, and still do not eat, to be present at all meals.”
Darcy began to speak, but he was stopped when his cousin continued. “And you have asked that the mistress’s chambers be cleaned and aired. In fact, I believe Mrs. Carroll said you instructed her to make them ‘ready for use.’ Explain yourself now, sir.”
Darcy remained silent. All that his cousin had said was true, and yet what could he tell him? That he had gone mad? Mad enough to see the lady of his dreams in his everyday reality? He looked at Elizabeth and drank in the calming effect of her beauty. Her eyes were lit with a kindness that settled into the tightness in his chest and relaxed him.
“I did not think I would ever have need to defend my behavior in the privacy of my own home.” Darcy forestalled his cousin’s attempt to interrupt. “No, I will thank you to remember that now it is my turn.”
Darcy stood then and taking the poker out of its holder, stirred the hot coals of the fire while he considered his cousin. He could tell that Richard was indeed quite worried, and if he could assure him that he had not gone mad, then he would do so, but that was simply not in his power. He turned his head to look at his cousin and, seeing that resolve in his eyes, decided perhaps to confess it all.
“A lady is at the heart of the matter — as I believe is the case for most men who find themselves acting strangely and without reason,” Darcy said simply. Darcy lifted his head towards Elizabeth, and they shared a quiet smile. Her bemused expression was endearing, and despite this interrogation, Darcy could not find it in himself to wish for his sanity back. Darcy did not know what she was feeling, and although he had told her before that he admired her, he had never quite said the word “love.” It was the last and final surrender to his addled state. Now, as he looked upon her angelic face, he could not help but wish to declare it. Knowing that his cousin still waited for more, he said, “A fact that you will no doubt find quite humorous. But before you begin to mercilessly tease me, allow me to explain from the beginning.”
Elizabeth listened spellbound as Darcy described his first impressions of her. She learned his comments at the assembly sprouted from a previous ill humor and not from any truth on his part. He described how his need for her grew the more he saw or heard her. How he learned to favor her song to any other and that the sound of her laughter left him spellbound. Her heart beat faster as he continued his discourse, enumerating all of her accomplishments, strengths and allurements that he found tempting. The longer she listened, however, the more a strange occurrence began to pull at her awareness. She became conscious of a dull pain on the side of her head. His words were stirring, however, and she endeavored to ignore the ache and listen.
“Is this the ‘unsuitable’ lady you proceeded to tell me you had feelings for on New Year’s Eve?”
Darcy looked to Elizabeth when he spoke, his voice echoing sadness for having to hurt her with his confirmation. “She is indeed.”
“You know I would like to argue with you over that point, Cousin, but now is not that time. Obviously, we have more distressing points to discuss. Go on.”
Darcy continued with his narrative, picking up with his need for escape from his growing feelings for Elizabeth. His account of his return to London and subsequent disquiet in general moved Elizabeth to tears. She sympathized, long ago having lost any offense at his actions, for she knew that his struggles had been great, and she had come to understand his reasons, knowing his concerns regarding her family to be justified if still a little heart wrenching. Oddly, the longer he spoke and the more detailed he became as he shared the contents of his hea
rt, the more pronounced the throbbing in her head grew. She sat on the windowsill, her hand reaching to rub the spot as she focused more of her strength on Darcy and his words.
“I could not get her out of my head, Richard,” Darcy said as he stood and took a few steps towards Elizabeth, noticing she appeared troubled slightly. He had seen her on occasion rub the side of her head before, and it had always nagged at him — the reason for it unknown to either.
The colonel fell backwards against his seat, brought the glass to his mouth and emptied it in one gulp. Sighing loudly, he brought his cousin’s attention back to him. “I cannot tell you what relief you have brought me with this news.”
Darcy looked confused and turned his head to the side trying to understand his cousin’s words.
“I came here today, Darcy, because I had been told that you may be ill.”
“Ill? In what manner?” Darcy asked consciously.
“Ill as in headed-to-Bedlam ill, Darcy. Good heavens, how glad I am to hear that you have only lost your wits over a lady.” Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh wildly.
Darcy shifted his feet uncomfortably and looked at Elizabeth. She smiled in bemusement, knowing that insane is exactly what Darcy thought he had become. “I believe you have had too much to drink, Cousin.”
This only made Richard laugh harder. “Indeed, I believe you may be right.”
Darcy shook his head and continued to close the distance to Elizabeth. His eyes did not leave her even when his cousin spoke again.
“Is this Miss Bennet, about whom you have told me so much, perhaps named Elizabeth?”
Darcy nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “Elizabeth.”
Richard relaxed completely. It was the same name Georgiana had said she heard Darcy say while practicing his fencing earlier in the day. She had been concerned that he had been talking to himself but now Richard believed what she saw was a man fighting his demons and struggling with an admiration he did not want, using physical exertion as a distraction.
“Well you are not the first man nor shall you be the last, I dare say,” Richard began. Now relieved of concern for his cousin’s state of mind, he resolved to sort out Darcy’s state of heart as well.
“I believe it is time, my dear cousin, to let go of your reservations. You do not need money, and any concerns you have regarding her connections cannot be a problem when you have my mother. ”
Darcy turned from Elizabeth then and questioned his cousin, unsure of what Lady Matlock had to do with any of it. “What do you mean, Richard?”
“All these society events that she insists you attend have been her attempts at matchmaking, Darcy.”
“Surely you jest!”
“I do not. You must have known this.” Richard attempted to sit up but could not coordinate his limbs for the task.
“I assure you, I have not.”
Richard shrugged. “Well, they have. I wager she would like to see both of us in the parson’s mousetrap before long.” He turned in his seat so that he could see behind him to where Darcy was standing a few feet from the window. “She just wants to see you happy, Darcy. If this Miss Bennet lacks connections, by virtue of marriage to you, she he will have connections to my mother who will make sure nobody of the ton dare refute.” Richard tried to punctuate his words by snapping his fingers but the disobedient appendages had grown thick.
“I appreciate your assurances, Richard, but let me assure you that I do not need them.” Darcy turned again to look at Elizabeth. “I care not what society thinks anymore; indeed, I was a fool to let it lead me astray for so long.”
Darcy slowly took a step closer to Elizabeth. His eyes roaming her features and resting finally on her eyes. “I am utterly and irrevocably lost to her already. The disapproval of society cannot change that nor would I wish it to.”
Darcy could not help declaring himself further, sealing his fate with his words. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Elizabeth felt the impact of his words like a song to her soul, awakening her like nothing she had ever felt before. Her head began to swim though, and her eyes began playing tricks on her.
“William, I lo — ”
“A pretty speech Darcy, and while I am sure I love you too . . . ” Richard cut in, snorting drunkenly.
Darcy turned irritated eyes at his cousin for interrupting Elizabeth. Suddenly, fearing his cousin would again worry for his state of mind, Darcy quickly said, “I meant to say that you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love her.”
While Darcy was occupied misguiding his cousin again, Elizabeth felt a whooshing sound fill her ears and her head began to throb mercilessly. Her hands flew out beside her instinctively to steady herself as she felt the room begin to spin. Flashes of memories began to strike across her mind, forcefully jarring her consciousness from the present circumstances. She collapsed against the side of the windowsill, her head in her hands as she realized what was happening. The memories that now flooded her awareness were new to her and yet familiar. It was like remembering a dream she had lost.
“It was so very cold! I remember the cold most clearly now. The ground was hard and the frost seeped deeply into me, infecting my very bones.” Elizabeth began numbly to describe the images coming swiftly to her mind again, even as her hands chaffed her arms as if to warm them.
Darcy’s attention was whipped immediately around to focus on Elizabeth. Her words caused his heart to freeze uncomfortably in his chest. “Elizabeth! What are you saying?”
“We left the New Year’s Eve ball early, the room was so very full and Jane was not feeling well.”
“Uhh . . . Darcy are you well, man?” Richard, suddenly concerned by the fierceness of his cousin’s face as well as the fact that he was talking to the window, stood unsteadily.
“The carriage was going to come back for them.” Elizabeth looked up with startled and fearful eyes. “The snow started to fall just as we began for home.”
“Darcy . . . ?”
“Will you be quiet, Richard! For God’s sake, allow her to speak!”
Richard fell silent, sobered slightly by his cousin’s bizarre behavior. Darcy turned abruptly back to the window and spoke fervently, panic lacing his voice. “Elizabeth, tell me what happened.”
The lady felt as if she were in a fog, witnessing the terrible accident from afar but remembering and feeling the pain and terror of it as it happened. With glossy eyes, she looked up at Darcy, her mouth uttering the words that her mind could not hold back. “The roads were icy and we slid a few times. I remember the screech of the wheels and the panicked noises of the horses. Everything went so quickly after that. Everything was tossed about and then fell still. I hit the ground here.” She touched again the throbbing at the side of her head. “And it was so very cold and dark too. I remember only the darkness after that.”
Darcy fell to his knees, his worst fears taking hold of his heart and stealing his strength. “Oh God, not Elizabeth, not her.” The pain in his chest pressing against him in a manner that left him breathless. Elizabeth! Not her!
“What is going on here, Darcy?” Richard was now at his side, though foxed, still able to discern the gravity of the situation.
Elizabeth was silent for a while, considering Darcy’s words and her own returned memory. She was agonized by an option she had not considered. All this time she had thought that she was merely dreaming, but dreaming had never explained everything. Certainly, it did not explain the parts of the dream where Darcy’s own explanations held merit. A cold ribbon of dark black fear wrapped itself around her heart as she considered the possibility that she might be an actual ghost — not imaginary specter to Darcy, not dreaming, but dead to both their worlds.
“It cannot be. I am certain it cannot be,” she stuttered numbly. Disbelief abounded in her thoughts and she searched her new memories for anything that might assure her that she could not be dead. As she considered the grave thought, her con
viction grew. Though she could not explain why she was with Darcy in spirit form without being deceased, somehow she felt all too alive to be dead. “William, it cannot be! I am sure of it somehow.”
Darcy lifted his eyes to her, and she saw they were rimmed in red, his features pale. “How can you be certain?”
Elizabeth shook her head stiffly. “I do not know, but somehow I know that I am not dead.”
“Bingley!” Darcy shot up from the floor, and headed towards his desk. “He might have written. I have not looked at my correspondence yet today.”
“Bingley? Darcy you are ssshpeaking nonsense. I demand you . . . oomph.” Richard rubbed his shoulder as he tried to right himself after stumbling into a bookcase. “Perhaps I am a trifle in my cupsssh.”
The other occupants of the room ignored the inebriated colonel and rushed towards the desk. Darcy shuffled his hands through the stacks of papers on his desk, destroying their careful order. Papers slid across the polished surface and fell to the floor, floating like feathers to rest about their feet. Elizabeth too glided her hands through the papers, looking to feel any letters that were from Bingley. Images of estate matters detailed in letters from his stewards floated through her awareness but nothing from Bingley.
Desperately they quit their search when nothing came up and looked at each other, each leaning against the desk between them. The thread of hope they had felt pulled taut enough to snap at any moment. A knock at the door startled everyone, the colonel included, who had by this time felt his head grow heavy and had chosen to lie down on the sofa.
Darcy rushed to the door and opened it to find a troubled Mr. Carroll. He held in his hands a silver salver with a letter on it. “This has just arrived, sir, by way of express from Hertfordshire.”
Seizing it immediately, Darcy looked frantically to Elizabeth. “It is from Bingley,” he said when he saw his friend’s familiar scrawl.
They both looked towards Richard who was struggling to sit up. Elizabeth turned again to Darcy with pleading eyes and said, “Can we not go someplace more private?”
Haunting Mr. Darcy Page 18