She gawked at his unkempt appearance. She had never seen a man so undone. His hair fell limp over his eyes, his neck was bare, and his shirttail only half tucked in. Darcy’s shoulders heaved as he wept.
“I cannot live without you, Lizzy, you are my very life. Speak to me, dearest, and tell me how I can make you better. I will sacrifice anything to make you well. You are the very core of me. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Finally able to break her trance, Kitty backed away from the doorway without a sound. What would it be like to be loved as Elizabeth was loved by Darcy? Kitty doubted she would ever know such devotion.
Shaken by what she had just witnessed—her sister unconscious and Darcy broken—and by her own thoughts about her life, Kitty padded down the hallway like a ghost. She was a breath away from the grand staircase when a flash of puce caught her eye. It disappeared quickly around a corner, near where the servants’ stairs must be. Had not Lord Chalmer been wearing a puce waistcoat that morning?
There was no reason for Albert to be in that section of the home. But, although Darcy kept his servants in excellent dress, their uniforms were black. None of them would have been so fashionably dressed.
Curiosity pushed her onward. She rounded the corner and pushed aside the curtain that hid the servants’ staircase from view, only to fall back against the wall, her hands coming up to cover the gasp escaping her lips.
There before her was Lord Chalmer, his body pressing Alice—Kitty’s lady’s maid at Pemberley—against the wall. His lips drank of Alice’s mouth as if she were living water, and his hands inched up her skirt. Alice’s hands intermittently caressed his back and raked through his hair as she moaned.
Regaining her composure, Kitty balled her fists at her sides. “Lord Chalmer, how dare you!” she cried.
Chalmer staggered back, as if physically hit, and Alice froze to the spot, her face white. Spinning, Chalmer glared at Kitty, and it made her insides roil. “How dare I? How dare you!” His voice was a growl. “You little vixen! You’ve no right to be sneaking about this area, and I find it entirely unrespectable of you to creep up on a gentleman.”
Kitty knew she was shaking, but didn’t know if it was with rage or fright. “A gentleman? I seriously find little proof of that in your current pursuit.” She spat out the words and turned to retreat, but Albert grabbed her arm and pinned her against the wall.
His voice changed to a purr as he grabbed her chin between his fingers. “Listen here, my trifling hoyden, it’s about time you grew up and realized what the world is like. Did you truly think you alone could satisfy a man? Ha! Did you think that after our wedding, I would keep to just you? Ridiculous child!”
Albert released Kitty and straightened his waistcoat. He glanced over his shoulder at Alice, who stood, seemingly rooted to the spot, wringing her hands. “Be off with you, chit. Have you nothing to employ yourself with?” he barked at the little maid, and she rushed down the stairs.
Turning his attention back to Kitty, he spoke as if he were a solicitor laying out a transaction. “I will secure a special license, and we shall wed by week’s end. You will grow used to these…happenings…but I promise to pursue my dalliances in a way that will not bring undue embarrassment to you as my wife. In fact, I could be persuaded to take but one main mistress, whom I would keep in a separate apartment, which would alleviate gossip.” He bowed his head, as if making a great concession.
“But sir, I cannot desire marriage with a man who, even before the establishment of it, wishes another woman.”
“You speak such feminine drivel. My dear Kitty, there is not a man alive who does not have a mistress. It does not negate a marriage—a wife is first in a husband’s heart, and a mistress is first in his bed. It ends up being a comfortable arrangement for all. Besides the point, you are growing older, no man has sought you out. What options besides me are afforded you? We are comfortable together and you will gain a title. I know we could have a successful marriage.”
Kitty shook her head. “No. I cannot believe it as common as you say. Mr. Darcy, for one, does not keep a mistress; he loves my sister and her alone. My papa—”
Albert’s guffaw cut her off. “Are you completely blind? This is the way things are. You are right to say Mr. Darcy does not keep a mistress. No, he probably keeps ten. And you must have looked the other way when your dear papa went off for company.”
He could not be right. Darcy—ten mistresses? Surely not. Lizzy could not love him so dearly if that were the case. And Kitty knew well that her papa’s only other company was that of his books and a comfortable chair in his library.
Lord Chalmer must have mistaken her silence for consent, because he pressed his body close, his fingers tracing her neck. “Is it that you are jealous, Miss Bennet? Because you need not be. We can away to my chamber this minute and fully explore each other.”
Her senses tingling with alarm, she shoved against him and tore down the servants’ stairs, all the way down through the kitchen, and then erupted out the back doors. She took in two huge gulps of air before taking off at a run toward the wooded hills. Head down, she charged forward, stumbling as she went.
She needed to think, to breathe, and, most of all, to be away.
Suddenly, she terribly regretted her words to Lizzy more than a month past now—when she had told her sister smugly that she would rather have fine carriages than someone who truly adored her. After seeing Mr. Darcy with Lizzy, Kitty didn’t think she could ever be satisfied with anything less than the same dedication. But was there such a man in all the world who could love her like that?
Lord Chalmer didn’t care for her in that way, but he was right about his offer, no matter how distasteful, was still her best…her only…offer. She didn’t want to end up a spinster, a burden to her relations. Certainly, a marriage without love would be preferable to no protection or home of her own. Wouldn’t it?
“Miss Bennet!” a familiar voice called out to her. Kitty spun and spotted Mr. Denton picking his way over the field toward her. She took in his wide shoulders and sighed. He was such a well-cut man, although not quite as tall as Mr. Darcy.
Conrad’s gut clenched while he watched sweet Miss Bennet palm her tear-streaked face and endeavor to smile in his direction. He would find out what had caused her unhappiness.
“Mr. Denton! How good it is to see you. I am out for a walk just now, but I promise you I will be on the alert for foxholes.”
He laughed. “Take my arm, Miss Bennet, and I will walk with you and protect your feet from any evil that might be lurking in this very field.” Kitty took Denton’s arm as he winked at her.
He tucked his other hand over hers as she rested it in the crook of his arm. In a subdued tone, he said, “Unless my eyes deceive me, Miss Bennet, you have been crying. Please unburden yourself and tell me as a friend what troubles you.”
Kitty heaved a sigh. “You have been a good friend to me, Mr. Denton, but I fear that you will grow weary of hearing all my dark thoughts.”
“Have no fear on that account; I could listen to you talk all day without tiring. Your voice has quickly become one of my favorite sounds.”
It was brazen of him to say such a thing, but he was rewarded by a brilliant light in her eyes and a small upturn of her rosebud lips.
“Oh! Mr. Denton, I believe I have made a right muddle of my life.”
“You know how I feel about muddles—speak on,” he encouraged her.
“I do not believe I will ever find a man who will cherish me as I am. You see, Lord Chalmer wishes to marry me speedily, but I have lately learned that he has no intention of remaining faithful to me as his wife. I do not believe another option is open to me, however. I forfeited all that in the folly of youth,” she said, drooping her head.
His fingers tightened around her hand as she spoke. Lord Chalmer was a right blackguard! What man could want the company of another woman when he had sworn before man and God to love just one with heart, body, and soul? Especially
when that woman was Kitty Bennet? A man would have to be daft not to see what a treasure this woman was. Even burdened by terrible circumstances, she had chosen to smile at him and pretend she hadn’t been crying. Miss Bennet had more strength than he had ever seen in a woman. His own sister, Phoebe, had needed constant encouragement when she was down, and getting her sister to open up with her thoughts had required hours of work. But Kitty, she didn’t dance around the truth. Conrad asked a question and she answered him honestly. He loved that about her.
Denton wanted to tell her of his own love, yell from the top of Pemberley for all to hear that she had another option in this world—him. Conrad wished he were a firstborn son. Were he, he would have the fortune and then be able to recommend himself to a woman of Miss Bennet’s quality.
Denton bit back the words of his heart. Instead, he said, “Why, Miss Bennet? Why do you believe you forfeited your happiness such that you are now punished with the prospect of a loveless marriage?”
“When I should have been spending my time becoming a woman worthy of a good man, I did not take the opportunity to do so. Instead, I indulged in flirtations with officers and whiled away my days dreaming of men in regimentals. I was most likely passed up by men of quality because they saw me for who I was then, a girl with nothing of value in my head. Now those decent men are all taken.”
“I wouldn’t worry on that account. I believe a man in uniform makes many a girl lightheaded. My own sister wed an army man, and they have been happily married for years now. I sometimes wish I had chosen the military route; then I would have had sweet angels like you batting their eyes at me. But, in truth, such a life would not have worked. Fighting requires a great deal too much fearlessness for me. I prefer the church—taking care of the people here and standing up for a sermon once a week.”
“I grant you that standing up in front of a church full of people takes a different sort of courage than facing an opposing army—but it is courage, nonetheless. I, for one, would never be able to mount the nerve to do what you do every Sunday.”
“I cannot believe that! Miss Speaks-Her-Mind Bennet couldn’t get up and talk in front of people. Utter hogwash.”
“I am in earnest, sir. I could never do it.”
“Then you do not know yourself.”
“And you presume to know me better?”
Denton nodded.
“Then speak on, man.”
“You, Miss Bennet, are beautiful without knowing it. Those you love, you love deeply. Those you do not know, you think well of. You approach everything—whether it is delivering food to the poor, or going for a walk—as a grand adventure, which, in turn, makes those around you savor life all the more. You are quick to laugh, and quicker to forgive offenses. You speak what you think, which few women do. It is an utterly refreshing and truthful way to be. All in all, Miss Bennet, I find you are a young woman full of potential.”
“Ha, potential! That means that I might never become who I am supposed to be.”
“True. But take heart, Miss Bennet. You possess your own brand of courage, one that will not let you rest until you become that woman.”
“Have you such faith in me?”
“You inspire it without knowing.”
Elizabeth thrashed about in her bed, her hands trying to push away the layers of blankets piled on her. “So hot. Too hot,” she mumbled in her delirium.
Darcy hovered over her, his brow knitted with worry as Dr. Wendington forced the bedding back over Lizzy. “It is imperative that all these covers stay on her.”
Standing a few feet back, Kitty looked from her sister to the roaring fire. Kitty’s own back was damp from the heat, so it was no wonder that poor, feverish Lizzy was suffering.
Their mama had never prescribed such measures whenever the girls had come down with fevers. No, Mama had always cracked the window to let fresh air fill the room and had sent them to bed with a wet cloth draped over their eyes to help induce sleep.
“She is not getting better. Nothing you are doing is working!” Darcy boomed at Wendington.
The doctor stammered, “Mr. Dar-Darcy, all that can be done for Mrs. Darcy is being done. A fever is the body’s attempt to stay alive. The only way to balance her humors is to sweat the fever out with fire, hot liquids, and blankets.”
“But we are losing her!” Darcy’s agonized voice rang painfully in Kitty’s ears.
“Then Mr. Darcy, please relent and allow me to bleed her.”
Darcy shoved Wendington away from Elizabeth’s bedside. “You will not bleed her!” He ground out each word with force.
Kitty stepped forward and touched her fingertips to Lizzy’s cheek. “She is so hot. Much too hot. We need to cool her down. She is so uncomfortable. Mr. Darcy, have mercy and let her be at ease.”
Darcy turned his head slowly and regarded Kitty, his eyes vacant. “How?” he whispered.
“My mama says that when a fever comes, a body just wants to rest, so give it whatever it wants. Lizzy wants to be cooled down. Douse the fire for one, her body is hot enough without it. Throw open the windows. We will pour cool liquids down her throat. Order cold water up and let us bathe her skin.”
“Absolutely not!” The doctor’s eyes blazed. “You foolish girl! Do you presume to know more than a man of medicine? Your treatment would cause Mrs. Darcy certain and quick death.” The man turned his back on Kitty and addressed the master of the house. “Mr. Darcy, I understand that you are greatly grieved and that you want what is best for Mrs. Darcy. I must bleed her immediately.”
Anger flickered in Darcy’s eyes and he exploded. “Do you really believe you understand? My entire reason for existing hangs in the balance, and you say you understand. You would have to kill me before I let you bleed her. Butcher! You are dismissed. Leave us; there is nothing left for you to accomplish here. If my wife is to die, she will do so in comfort.”
Aghast, the doctor gathered his things and left the room.
Darcy turned and caught up both of Kitty’s hands. “Instruct me, Sister; tell me what we should do for Elizabeth.”
Her back aching from kneeling on the ground all night, Kitty was holding Elizabeth’s hand when her sister’s eyes fluttered open. Kitty put her hand to Lizzy’s forehead—cool and dry. The fever had broken.
“Good morning, Sister.” Kitty whispered.
“I do not ache anymore.” Lizzy’s voice was raspy.
Kitty smiled. “You are out of danger. Let me wake your husband.” She nodded her head toward the chair Darcy was sleeping in. His lips, even in slumber, formed a grim line, and deep, dark circles were evident under his eyes. She knew exhaustion must show in her own face as well.
Kitty and Darcy had spent the entire night awake, removing cloths from Elizabeth’s brow the moment they became warm and replacing them with cold ones, bathing her skin to bring down the temperature, and spooning cold water down her throat. Near four in the morning, Kitty had told Darcy he was no help to her because growing weariness made him clumsy. He had fought her, but in the end had collapsed into the chair beside the bed, where he still remained.
Crawling toward the chair, Kitty laid her hand on his forearm and whispered, “Mr. Darcy, wake up. Your wife wishes to see you.”
His eyes snapped open and he almost tripped over Kitty in an effort to get to the bed, where Lizzy regarded him with bright eyes.
Darcy laughed and gathered his wife in his arms. “You are well, aren’t you?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“I can tell just by looking at you! I thought I had lost you and didn’t know how I could live, but you are well and I love you more than ever. I will let you rest, my Wife, so you can regain your strength.”
Smiling, Darcy clapped Kitty on the back, as if she were a schoolfellow. “Well done, Kitty! It looks as though your mama has some sense in her head, after all.”
“Indeed, sir, it is there, just deeply buried behind all the shiny things that so easily distract her,” Kitty said and grinned at him.
>
Taking a seat by Lizzy, Darcy took his wife’s hand, and then his face became somber. “Forgive me. I should not have said that about Mrs. Bennet. Please do me the favor of never repeating it.”
Kitty pretended to lock a bolt over her mouth and nodded. “Your words will die with me, Mr. Darcy.”
“Then, Sister, I pray that you will have to hold my secret a very many years.”
Lord Chalmer crossed the room when Kitty entered. It was a good thing Mrs. Darcy had recovered, because if she had not, then marrying Miss Bennet would be pointless. Darcy would have had no reason to care about Catherine Bennet’s welfare if they were no longer related. He would have no temptation to pay all of Albert’s debts—and now, more than ever, Albert sorely needed those debts paid.
“My dear Miss Bennet, may I say how much joy it gives me to wish you well now that your sister is mending.” Albert took up Kitty’s hands in his own. He thought back to the day she had caught him with Alice, and he knew he had made a right brumblebroth of his courtship with her. But he would right it now, assure her of his love and remind her how much pin money he could afford her once they were wed. And if that didn’t work, he could always carry her off to Scotland by force and marry her there, where the laws were loose.
She seemed to hesitate as she bit her lower lip. That was all right with Chalmer; better a quiet wife than one who would challenge him at every turn.
He pulled himself up to his full height and began: “Miss Bennet, I need only your consent and I will ride today to acquire a special license for us to marry. Now that your sister is in good health, I believe our wedding should not be delayed another day longer.”
He felt her try to remove her hands from his grasp, but he didn’t allow it. A woman needed to learn to be obedient to her husband, and the child might as well get her first lesson now.
“Please, Lord Chalmer, let go. I cannot believe a word you say. You do not wish to wed me, not truly. I do not understand why you press your suit.” She inched toward the door, but he moved and slammed it shut.
The Road to Pemberley Page 20