"How is he, Mr. Hill?" The words came from what seemed like miles away.
"He is feverish, miss. We think the fever will break soon."
"I wish we could send for Mr. Jones."
"You know it is not safe out there for man or beast, Miss Lizzy. My wife will tend him as well as the apothecary could. She has a healing touch, as you well know."
Darcy heard a familiar, pleasant laugh. "Even if that healing is just to bring someone's salts."
The man chuckled as well. "Yes, miss. Now, you leave him to us. I think the young miss needs some comforting and you can do that along with Miss Jane and Miss Mary. Convince her that her brother will be well. I am convinced it is true."
Darcy thought to offer his agreement, but what came out was a croak unrecognizable as words. He felt someone lift his head gently and offer him something soothing to drink. Then everything was darkness again.
He struggled to wakefulness later from another strange swirl of dreams, although the memory of them slipped away as he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times while he tried to make sense of his surroundings.
"You are at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy," the kind voice of a woman said. "You have had a fever, but it has broken."
"Mrs. Hill?" he said, although his voice felt rough to both his throat and his ears. He started to cough.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy. I have something to soothe your throat. Let me help you drink." She lifted his head, which was already elevated on pile of pillows, then brought a cup to his lips. He drank a little bit before the impulse to cough hit him again. She moved the drink away until it passed, then offered him the rest.
"Georgiana?" he asked, hoping she would understand.
"She is safe downstairs. The Miss Bennets are making her comfortable. Mrs. Annesley is with her as well. Mr. Bingley took a bit of a chill, but he recovered quickly and is downstairs now with them. And your servants are fine. We were able to get them nicely warmed up and they have suffered nothing worse than a few cases of the sniffles. All is well in hand, sir."
Darcy was glad she had anticipated all his questions. He realized he simply felt comfortably warm, not the overpowering heat of his dreams. The weight of the blankets draped over him made him safe and secure. He coughed again, but it did not scratch as roughly as before.
Mrs. Hill fluffed up the pillow behind him and helped him settle back against it. He was drowsy, and his eyes started to close again. He felt a gentle pat against his shoulder and then realized she was tucking him in as if he were a small child. That felt safe and comforting as well.
"You rest now, Mr. Darcy," she said as he started to drift off to sleep again. "When you next wake I will have some broth for you to drink. You will be well soon."
He heard no more. Soon he was dreaming of the nursery at Pemberley. He was playing with his favorite wooden horse as his mother sat in a rocking chair and watched.
"Are you happy, Fitzwilliam?" she asked him.
"Yes, mother," he said as he moved the wooden horse to trot across the carpet. He realized he was sitting on the floor. His body was that of a man, but he wore a skeleton suit like he had as a young boy. It made perfect sense in the dream. He made the wooden horse jump an imaginary hedge and his mother smiled at him.
"You were lost for a time, my son," she said softly. "You became a man and took on the weight of responsibility, but you forgot to keep true to your heart and your upbringing."
He stilled the horse and looked up at her. The light shining through the window behind her gave her an angelic glow. He sighed.
"Yes, mother. I became proud and forgot that other people have feelings, needs and wants. I am trying to do better now."
"Yes, you are," she said with a bright smile. "Take care of yourself and Georgiana, but do not forget other people are worthy of your care as well." Her form began to fade into the light from the window, golden and pure.
"I miss you, Mother," he said. The wooden horse still dangling from his hand was forgotten. He was standing in a snowstorm, but light was all around him.
"I am always with you," she said. He realized that was true.
Darcy woke later, feeling warm, safe and happy. He did not really remember his dreams, but the feeling of light and lightness remained. Then he coughed and coughed again. He opened his eyes to the bedroom at Longbourn. Somehow it had become familiar to him. In a way, it felt like home.
The door opened and Mrs. Hill silently stepped in. She looked at him and smiled, prompting a slight memory of his mother's smile. He responded in kind.
"So, you are awake again, are you?" she said, coming over to set a bowl of something down on the table near the bed before reaching over to lay a hand on his forehead. He made no protest at the familiarity. It felt comforting.
"No fever," she said as she removed her hand again. "Good. I have that broth I promised. We must get you well."
He had a vague feeling of being a boy in an overlarge body as she spooned the broth into his mouth. He thought he might have been able to feed himself, but his limbs felt weak and childlike. It was best to simply let her lift the spoon for him. He was still coughing a bit, but it did not feel as bad as before. All the same, when he had finished the broth, she had him drink another dose of the soothing drink. He took it and soon was resting peacefully again.
~*~
Darcy opened his eyes to full, bright daylight coming into the window. He still had a tickle in his throat and a bit of a headache, but he felt much better than he had before. He climbed unsteadily out of the bed and found the chamber pot. After making use of it, he searched around for the dressing gown. He remembered Mr. Hill saying it would be too short, and it was, but he put it on anyway and then pulled a blanket from the bed to wrap around himself as well. Then, he realized he could not leave the room dressed like that, so he sat down on the bed to think and wait.
He succeeded at the waiting, but not so much at the thinking. His mind still felt fuzzy and filled with snow. He had a few coughing fits while hints of dreams floated through his head. Nothing became solid enough to take hold of him or fully catch his attention. Finally, he heard a knock at the door. He told whoever it was to enter.
Mr. Hill did as he was bid. He carried some clothes Darcy recognized as his own, although not what he had been wearing the night of the Goulding's dinner. He wondered how long ago that night had been.
"Ah, good, sir. You are up and about. Would you like to wash up and dress for the afternoon?"
"What afternoon is it?" Darcy asked.
"You were feverish for most of yesterday. Today is the second day of your stay here. The snowstorm broke this morning and one of your men rode to Netherfield to bring back fresh clothing for your party. He said the snow is too deep for the carriages just now."
Darcy nodded. He remembered the stuck carriage and the water and mud. "The tree across the stream," he said. "It needs to be moved before anyone else is caught by surprise."
"Once the weather cleared, Miss Elizabeth sent a group of our men to check out the spot. The stream had frozen solid. It was hard work, but the men were able to chop out a wedge from the part of the tree that has blocked the water. When it thaws, the water will flow back in the usual channel again. We can move the rest of the tree when conditions improve."
Somehow Darcy was not surprised Miss Elizabeth had made the arrangements to fix the problem instead of her father. He did not expect much energy or initiative out of Mr. Bennet. At least the issue was resolved, and it was unlikely anyone else would be trapped at the spot.
He allowed Mr. Hill to help him wash and get dressed. Although he felt better overall, his limbs still felt weak and uncooperative. He was nearly worn out by the time they were done, and he sat back down on the bed to recover.
"Would you like me to have my wife bring you up some food? Or would you care to go down and join the family for tea?"
"If you can help me with the stairs, I would like to go down. I feel like I have been too isolated here."
Mr. Hill nod
ded and offered a helping hand. Darcy took it and used the man's strength to pull himself back to a standing position. He made his way down the hall in the direction Mr. Hill pointed out. When faced with them, he went down the stairs slowly, Mr. Hill a step behind, resting one hand on Darcy's shoulder to steady him.
By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Darcy could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. Mr. Hill came around and led him to the sitting room, opening the door so Darcy could enter. Thanking the helpful servant, Darcy went in noticing a veritable sea of female faces looking up at him as he did.
Georgiana jumped from her seat and ran to his side. Miss Elizabeth joined her more slowly.
"Brother! Are you well?" his sister cried. He winced a bit at the volume of her voice.
"Would you like to sit down, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Elizabeth said, much more softly.
He nodded to them both. Miss Elizabeth took his arm as if he had offered to escort her for a stroll. With Georgiana alongside, she led him to an empty sofa where he gratefully took a seat. His sister plopped down next to him, while Miss Elizabeth went to get him a cup of tea and some food.
Darcy had not noticed Bingley among all the ladies in the room, but now his friend came over to ask how Darcy felt. He saw the Bennet sisters all looking at him curiously.
"I am better," he said. "I still feel somewhat tired and I have a cough, but I am better."
Bingley clapped him on the shoulder. "We were worried for you, old man. You looked like a mud monster when we got here. I know I was freezing cold and it must have been even worse for you. Mrs. Hill is certainly a wonder with her soothing drinks."
"Yes, she was a big help, as was Mr. Hill," Darcy said, feeling exhausted by even this little conversation. Miss Elizabeth returned, and Bingley moved back to Miss Bennet's side after clapping him on the shoulder again.
The tea was nice and hot. It felt and tasted wonderful as he sipped at it. He ate and drank in silence while Georgiana told him how much she was enjoying the visit.
"Jane loaned me a gown yesterday, so I could come downstairs with everyone else. She and Lydia are the only ones as tall as I am, you see. Mary and I practiced on the pianoforte together for a time. Kitty and Lydia let me look through all their ribbons and they told me about the ball Mr. Bingley held last month. Lizzy kept Mrs. Annesley company and was very kind to me as well. Oh, they all gave me permission to use their names. I have been learning what it is like to have sisters. It has been fun!"
"That is because we have all been on our best behavior. We did not involve you in any arguments over who has the prettiest gown or who deserves the best ribbons." Miss Elizabeth teased her.
"I do not know why you all continue to argue over that. Everyone should know by now that I am always the prettiest and deserve the best of everything," Miss Lydia said, prompting everyone to laugh. Georgiana turned to talk with Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, leaving her brother to speak with Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy realized a voice was missing from the group. Looking around, he could not see Mrs. Bennet in the room.
"Is your mother not here?" he asked Miss Elizabeth. "I hope she did not take ill as well."
"Mama is fine," Miss Elizabeth told him with a smile. "She is in the kitchen with Mrs. Hill hearing the reports of the man she sent around to check on all the tenants. She wanted to make certain the snowstorm had not left any of them with unexpected needs."
Darcy shook his head slightly. "I cannot quite make out your mother. I have heard, first from Mrs. Nichols and now from you, that she takes very good care of the people of the neighborhood and she is known to be kind and generous, yet I have also seen..." he trailed off, not sure how to continue without causing insult.
"And yet, she is pushy, crass and loud. Yes, I know how she appears to strangers," Lizzy said with a sigh.
"I did not like hearing that she had been scolding you so severely you felt the need to escape by taking a long walk in the snow."
She cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly.
"Miss Lucas told me your mother was upset you refused Mr. Collins and even more upset when you asked Bingley and me to leave."
"Ordered, you mean?" she said with a chuckle.
He nodded, smiling. "That is one way to put it."
"Mama is a bit of a contradiction. I suppose we all are. As you say, she is known to be kind and generous, and rightfully so. She looks after our tenants well and helps those of our community who are in need. She is also fearful for her own future and that of her daughters, making her an unstoppable matchmaker. In addition, she is not a gentlewoman by birth and was not trained to the manners of a lady. She does try, but she is simply naturally loud and excitable."
"How did you and Miss Bennet learn?" he asked.
"Our Aunt Gardiner in London taught us. Uncle Gardiner may be a tradesman, but he is well-educated, and he married an equally well-educated gentleman's daughter. Jane and I have visited with them frequently over the years and take her as our model for behavior, although I must admit Jane has had more success at it than I."
"I do not consider your manners poor in general, Miss Elizabeth. You are a bit more lively than many ladies of the Ton, but I also find you much more intelligent and better company," he said.
"A compliment, sir? I did not know you were capable of them." She smiled to take the sting from her words.
"On rare occasions one may slip out," he replied. Then he surprised her completely with a wink. The moment was spoiled, however, by a small fit of coughing. "I understand your mother is not the only one to take care of the community," he said when he recovered.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Mr. Hill told me you sent some men to deal with the fallen tree as soon as it was safe to do so. That was good thinking on your part."
"Why would Mr. Hill mention that?" He heard a suspicious note in her voice.
"I was wondering whether conditions were good enough I could send men to do the same."
She nodded understanding. "That road is used by many people in the area. I would hate for someone to get stuck there and possibly freeze without help."
"That was my thinking as well. We all need to look out for each other and it is important to protect others from danger when we can. I failed at that on my earlier trip, but I am trying to do better."
"You mean Mr. Wickham?"
"Yes. I knew he might be a danger to your community, but I had told him the previous time we met that I washed my hands of him. I did not wish to deal with him again, and so I just left him alone. I should have warned someone."
"You probably should have, but he is a grown man and you are not his keeper. We should all have been more suspicious. You cannot protect everyone. I suspect he is not the only charming scoundrel in the world."
Darcy smiled slightly and then coughed. "No, he is not," he said sadly.
"What brought you back?" she asked.
"I had a dream in which you, Georgiana, your sister and Bingley upbraided me for my poor behavior. I realized I needed to make some changes and dealing with George Wickham was a large part of it. He has done much harm to me and my family in the past. It was time for that to stop."
"So, I even scold you in your dreams? It is a wonder you can bear to be in my company now." She was both teasing and curious.
"We have truce, do we not?" he asked, only half-teasing himself.
"We do. I will not slap you and you will not insult me." She smiled.
"Well, that is a start. I would like to have more than a truce. I enjoyed our discussions together during your stay at Netherfield, even if I was under a misapprehension about your feelings and motives. I realize we do not know each other well, but I would like permission to call on you and see if we can change that."
"Are you asking me for a courtship?" she almost whispered, her words laced with incredulity.
"If you would be willing to take that step. If not, I simply ask for permission to call. We can talk and come to a better understanding."
>
"I...I...I do not know what to say," she stammered.
"Take your time and think," he said. "I do not need an immediate answer. It does not look like I will be leaving today, anyway." He smiled and tried to put her at her ease.
"You are nothing like what I imagined you to be," she said, shaking her head.
"I hope that is a good thing."
"Yes," she said with a nod of her head. "I did not think very well of you."
"I am not surprised. I was rude and officious and then Wickham fed you his lies. That is why we need to try again." Darcy suddenly felt very drained. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Are you certain you should have come downstairs?" Miss Elizabeth asked with concern.
He opened his eyes briefly. "I would not have missed this conversation for the world," he said quietly. "I just need to rest my eyes a moment." He closed them again and let the sounds of the various female voices, punctuated by the occasional lower rumble of Bingley's speech roll around him. He felt the cup of tea he still held, but had rested on one thigh, gently removed from his grasp. He opened his eyes again.
"I did not want you to spill it all over yourself if you fell asleep," Miss Elizabeth said when she saw he was looking at her.
He nodded slightly and closed his eyes again. He almost had drifted off when he heard the sound of Mrs. Bennet loudly talking to Mrs. Hill as she entered the room. Miss Elizabeth's groan was only audible because he was tuned to her voice. Wearily, he opened his eyes and struggled to his feet to make a proper bow to his hostess, as was expected of a gentleman.
"Not a word to my mother about your request," Miss Elizabeth whispered sharply.
"Of course not," he whispered back, turning to give her a wink her mother would not see. Then he faced forward, bracing himself to be courteous to the whirlwind that was Mrs. Bennet.
Chapter 14: Agreement
Mrs. Bennet was so effusive in her inquiries about Darcy's health and thanks for his assistance in the storm he was not sure he would survive the onslaught. Miss Elizabeth tried to remind her mother their guest was only just out of his sickbed and needed some quiet, but that barely helped. Finally, Darcy had an idea.
Smoky Dreams Page 11