To Love Mr Darcy

by Martine Jane Roberts

  Chapter Five

  Darcy arrived in the office of the Times editor just before they closed for the day.

  The editor, a Mr Sinclair, happily welcomed him in, assuming he had come to express his pleasure at seeing the advertisement so prominently placed. What he was not expecting was to be on the receiving end of Darcy’s wrath.

  “I want this taken out and a half-page retraction printed in the next edition and every edition for the following week!” Darcy said, slamming the office door and thrusting the paper into Sinclair’s chest.

  “But, sir, we were instructed to run it for a month complete to ensure it was seen by all the right people. Are you displeased with the size perhaps? We can make it larger if you wish?” replied the poor man.

  “It’s not the size, man, it’s the bride! I am not engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh and never have been,” Darcy shouted.

  “But Lady Catherine assured me she had your full blessing to place the announcement, Mr Darcy,” Sinclair said as he tried to explain.

  “Well, she did not, and neither do you. God's teeth, what a mess,” Darcy said as he slumped into a nearby chair.

  Sinclair opened his desk drawer and retrieved a half bottle of whisky and two glasses. Filling them both with a generous measure of the amber liquid, he then offered one to Darcy.

  As Darcy looked down at the contents of the glass, his forlorn expression conveying to his fellow drinker that his mood was one of dejection. With a weary sigh, Darcy swallowing the draught in a single gulp and then replaced the glass on the desk. This morning, his future had seemed settled and bright, but in one foul swoop, Lady Catherine had put everything in jeopardy. He should have known she would do something like this. She was no stranger to underhanded dealings, as many a trader could attest. But he never imagined she would stoop this low.

  Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the desk and jumped to his feet.

  “I’ve got it,” he said. “You will re-run the announcement as originally planned, only I want you to enlarge it to a full half-page. In place of Miss de Bourgh’s information you with insert this; Miss Elizabeth Bennet of the Longbourn Estate. The wedding to take place on December 24th.”

  “You are engaged to two women, sir?” the confused man asked shakily.

  Darcy assured Mr Sinclair that he was no budding bigamist but declined to explain further. Known to be an intensely private person, Darcy would never reveal information about his family to anyone, least of all to a newspaper editor.

  Now, though, he must return to Hertfordshire, where he had the unenviable task of explaining to Elizabeth why he had broken his promise, and the subsequent actions he had been forced to take.

  Since yesterday, when Mr Bingley had proposed to Jane, Elizabeth felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  Soon, all of London society will have seen the announcement in the Times, and Mr Darcy could hardly expect her to marry him now. Yet, her family’s future was still secure, thanks to Mr Bingley.

  Happier than she had been for days, Elizabeth rose early and went for a long walk. She neared the boundary of the Netherfield estate and paused. It would be nice if Jane settled here.

  At only three miles from Longbourn, it was an easy distance to walk. And if Charles invited some of his well-connected single friends to stay, perhaps her sisters might also find husbands. Goodness knows Lydia could benefit from the society of well-bred and well-connected young gentlemen, instead of being obsessing with the officers in the militia. And since her father had arranged a meeting with Colonel Forster, not one redcoat had been allowed near Longbourn.

  Admiring the house that Jane would hopefully be mistress of, Elizabeth declared herself to be very happy that her sister was to marry Mr Bingley.

  A gust of icy wind lifted her cloak, reminding her that she had a distance to walk before reaching home. Looked up at the sky, Elizabeth recognised the pink hue that stained the clouds. It was a sure sign that snow was on its way. Putting decorum and propriety second to her welfare, she lifted the hem of her dress and began to run.

  Longbourn was in sight when Elizabeth saw the first few flakes flutter to the ground. Thankfully, she managed to slip in via Longbourn’s back door before it started to snow in earnest.

  Hoping to avoid her mother, who would surely scold her for the muddy state of her clothes, she crept along the hall towards the stairs. Sadly, her aim of reaching her room undetected was not to be.

  Mrs Bennet had already spied her.

  “So, Lizzy, you have come back at last. Walk with me, I have something to show you.”

  Dutifully, Elizabeth followed her mother into the parlour. On entering the room, Elizabeth saw that Jane had also been summoned to attend.

  Scattered on the table was a litter of fashion magazines, probably borrowed from the dressmaker in Meryton.

  “Look, Lizzy, they are full of all the latest fashion from town. See how they are wearing their sleeves, they are long.”

  Elizabeth replied that it was no surprise they had switched from short sleeves to long; it was winter after all.

  Jane glanced up at Elizabeth and shot her a sly smile, before returning her attention back to the magazines. Resigned to an hour or two of inspecting patterns, Elizabeth gave it her full attention. Until her engagement was officially broken, it would not hurt to humour her mother.

  After they had exhausted every page of every book, Mrs Bennet declared herself in need of a nap, and promptly disappeared upstairs.

  Elizabeth took advantage of this time alone to ask Jane about Mr Bingley’s proposal.

  “Jane, you are glowing with happiness.”

  Jane took Elizabeth’s hand in her own.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I feel as though my heart will burst it is so full. Charles sent to London for this.” She held out her hand. There nestled on her third finger was a gold band, with a beautiful pale blue sapphire nestled in the centre.

  “Charles gave it to me this morning while you were out. He said he chose it because it matched my eyes,” Jane gushed.

  Elizabeth was truly happy that her sister had found love. Indeed, she had liked many a stupider person in the past. But Charles Bingley was just as affable as Jane, and they were a good match.

  However, as Elizabeth admired Jane’s engagement gift, it made her realise that Mr Darcy had given her no such token of his regard. For the first time ever, Elizabeth looked at her sister and felt a pang of jealousy.

  The Bennet family took their seats at the dining table, ready to enjoy a hearty supper when they heard a kerfuffle in the hallway. Before Mrs Hill could announce his arrival, Mr Darcy walked into the dining room. His greatcoat was splattered with mud, and a thick layer of snow covered his hat and shoulders. His cheeks glowed red, and beads of perspiration peppered his brow.

  “Please excuse me for disturbing your meal, sir, ladies. I did not realise the lateness of the hour,” he said breathlessly.

  “Nonsense, lad, you’ll soon be family. Lizzy, take Mr Darcy through to the drawing room, there’s a nice fire in there. Mrs Hill will bring you both a tray,” said Mr Bennet with a smile.

  Obediently, Elizabeth did as she was told. Though it was clear when Mr Darcy handed Hill his great coat that it had not been enough to protect him from the elements during his journey. She offered him the chair nearest the fire.

  “Mr Darcy, your clothes are wet through. Should you not have gone straight to Netherfield rather than stopping here?” she asked.

  “Perhaps, but I wanted to show you this before anyone else did. I hope you will understand why it was necessary for me to take this action. It is not something I do lightly.” Darcy pulled out a damp looking newspaper from his jacket pocket.

  It was a folded copy of the Times newspaper. Elizabeth needed no prompting and instantly turned to the announcement page. She read the revised version of Lady Catherine’s notice silently, she knew there would be no reprieve for her now. All of society would know of their engagement, if not from the paper directly, the
n from the gossip mongers. She refolded the broadsheet and handed it back to Mr Darcy. In truth, she did not feel the weight of disappointment she had expected to. Darcy’s actions had resolutely ensured their engagement stood. And although she should view it as the actions of a selfish man, she could not help but feel flattered that his desire to marry her was so strong. Either way, she was now irrevocably bound to marry him. Coming to terms with her fate was something she alone could remedy. Accepting that he had no other option but to announce their engagement was a good place to start.

  Darcy waited for some form of reproach for his actions, but there was none. Instead, he noticed her lips curl into a smile. This, he decided, could only be interpreted as a good sign, but he stayed silent. Unwilling to interrupt the pleasant ambience they seemed to be sharing.

  A moment later, Elizabeth’s smile turned into a full giggle.

  Unable to fathom out what she found so amusing, Darcy finally asked,

  “May I ask what you find so amusing?”

  “Oh, it is nothing to do with the announcement, I assure you, although I understand I must now reconcile myself to the fact that we will be married. No, sir, the reason I’m laughing is that you are…smoking,” she replied, her smile broadening.

  “Smoking?” he questioned.

  “Well, steaming to be more precise, from your wet clothes,” she clarified.

  Darcy looked down at his limbs. Quaffs of vapour swirled up from his sodden jacket and trousers, evaporating as they neared the flames. He quickly stood, intent on apologising for making the chair wet, but a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him.

  Raising a hand, he fumbled for the mantle shelf to steady himself.

  Elizabeth watched as he swayed to and fro. His face was flushed scarlet, and beads of feverish sweat trickled down his temple.

  Elizabeth instantly realised he was unwell, and there was clear evidence that he had caught a chill. She called out for help and then tried to coax him out of his wet outer garments.

  “You must remove your jacket and waistcoat, sir, they are sodden. Come, your shirt will dry quicker if it is exposed directly to the fire.”

  As a gentleman, it was unthinkable for Darcy to remove his coat in the company of a lady, let alone his waistcoat. He refused point blank.

  By now, Darcy was ready to admit that he was feeling quite ill. After the frantic ride to London, coupled with very little food or sleep, then his exhausting journey back through driving snow, it seemed his body was on the brink of rebelling. Darcy tried to take his leave, but the room began to swim as he swayed to and fro. Mortified that Elizabeth should see him in such a state, he again tried to make his excuses.

  “My apologies, madam, I find I am feeling a little under the weather. I must, therefore…” Darcy’s sentence was left unfinished as he slumped down into the chair unconscious.

  Elizabeth ran to the door and again called for help, before taking her handkerchief and gently mopping at his brow.

  Mrs Bennet immediately took charge. It was unthinkable for him to be moved back to Netherfield. His condition was far too serious for him to undertake such an arduous journey. Instead, she had Mr Hill carry the unconscious Darcy up to the guest room. She then ordered Mrs Hill to make plenty of chicken broth.

  Lydia and Kitty squealed at the prospect of having a single gentleman stay at the house, and one that was more handsome than their dreary cousin, Mr Collins.

  Mary was not so impressed. She merely conveyed her intention to pray for his speedy recovery and early removal.

  Mr Bennet watched with an impassive, but amused air. He wanted to remind Mrs Bennet that only a few weeks ago she had sent Jane out in a storm with every intention of catching a chill. Indeed, she had declared that people don’t die of a common cold. Well, let’s hope Mr Darcy survives, he mused, as he despatched a servant to fetch the physician with as much alacrity as the storm would permit. He disliked guests who were not family staying in his home. They upset the routine of the house. More importantly, they upset his routine.

  As soon as he was able, Mr Bennet disappeared back to his study and poured himself a large glass of port. No doubt they would call for him if he was needed. Meanwhile, he intended to enjoy the solitude.

  Chapter Six

  Mrs Bennet had been most insistent. Elizabeth was to sit with Mr Darcy, for some of each day, at least.

  “Mrs Hill is far too busy to act as nursemaid to a grown man, while his fiancée sits wasting her time reading books,” Mrs Bennet had told Elizabeth.

  So, for the past two days, Elizabeth had made her way upstairs straight after breakfast and sat at Mr Darcy’s bedside. Every half hour or so, she laid a freshly chilled cloth on his forehead in the hope that his fever would break. To while away the time, she worked on her sampler or read aloud. While downstairs she could hear Lydia and Kitty singing and dancing together, and Mary practised on the pianoforte. It had been a welcome distraction from the boredom, but it soon stopped when her mother had scolded them for making too much noise. The sound of Mrs Bennet voice could be heard ordering all three girls into the kitchen to help Mrs Hill. Kneading dough and chopping vegetables will leave you very little time for idle chatter, Mrs Bennet had told them.

  In the quieter moments, Elizabeth studied her patient. How different he looked when in repose. Calm, and even a little vulnerable, with no hint of the indolent sneer which Darcy usually presented to the world in general. What a shame he was so proud and disagreeable when awake. If only he were more like Mr Bingley or Mr Wickham. She would probably already be half in love with him by now.

  Picking up her recent purchase, a novel by a new author known only as ‘a Lady, she began to read.

  “Elinor could sit it no longer. She almost ran out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy, which at first she thought would never cease. Edward, who had till then, looked anywhere, rather than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw—or even heard, her emotion; for immediately afterwards he fell into a reverie, which no remarks, no inquiries, no affectionate address of Mrs Dashwood could penetrate, and at last, without saying a word, he quitted the room, and walked out towards the village—leaving the others in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation, so wonderful and so sudden;—a perplexity which they had no means of lessening but by their own conjectures.”

  A low mumble that emanating from the bed drew her attention.

  Darcy was saying something, but she was unable to decipher his words.

  She leant closer.

  “No more, Madam, I beg of you,” Darcy whispered hoarsely.

  Elizabeth smiled; she had not expected after two days of delirium for his first words to be a request for her to stop reading!

  She took the cloth from his head and placed her hand on it. Only warm, which was a good sign. It appeared his fever had finally broken.

  Quite unexpectedly, as Elizabeth turned the cloth over to replace it, Darcy raised his arm and captured her hand in his. The shock of his touch sent a spark of lightning coursing through her nerves, making her catch her breath.

  Elizabeth snatched her hand away and looked down at her patient.

  Darcy’s eyes were wide open, and as their eyes made contact, Elizabeth felt as though his gaze was boring into her very soul.

  Desperate to defuse the situation, Elizabeth scuttled to the door and called out for Mrs Hill to bring up a tray with some bread and broth. Turning back into the room, Elizabeth was relieved to see that Darcy's eyes were once again closed. Was it her imagination? Or had the surge of excitement that produced a tingling sensation to course its way through her body only happened in her mind? Had Darcy meant only to remove the cloth from his head, or had he intended to grasp her hand?

  As Hill entered with the tray, Elizabeth tried to put it from her mind.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she went back to Darcy’s bedside, roused him and cautiously helped him sit up.

  Placing a cloth under hi
s chin to catch any drips, she lifted a small spoon of the clear liquid broth to his lips and waited for him to oblige.

  When he failed to open his mouth, Elizabeth said,

  “You must open your mouth to take the broth, sir, even a little will suffice.”

  “As appealing as your company is, Elizabeth, I am conscious that we are alone in a bedchamber. You must call a male servant to attend me,” Darcy whispered with as much authority as his weakened state would allow.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. Apart from my father’s valet, there are no other indoor servants available, and I am sure Williams would deem spoon feeding you quite beneath him. It is me or no-one,” Elizabeth explained calmly.

  She again raised the spoon to his lips.

  Reluctantly, Darcy opened his mouth and took the broth.

  Elizabeth struggled to curb her smile. Mr Darcy was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation, whereas she, on the other hand, found it quite amusing. However, she suspected that if even a hint of a smile escaped her, the proud Mr Darcy would refuse her assistance.

  Elizabeth handed Darcy a small chunk of bread after every few spoons of soup. She watched mesmerised as he thoroughly chewed each morsel before swallowing it.

  Not until the bowl was empty and every last piece of bread consumed, did Elizabeth handed him a small glass of diluted beer.

  After just a few sips Darcy thrust the glass back at her, declaring it to be unfit for human consumption.

  Again, Elizabeth hid her smile.

  Having plumped up his pillows and seemingly attended to his immediate needs, Elizabeth picked up her book and again began to read.

  Darcy gave a slight cough to gain her attention.

  She looked up and raised her eyebrows.

  “I do hope you have not caught the croup as well, Mr Darcy?” she teased.

  “Miss Bennet, please do not think I am not happy to have your company but I would prefer a man’s company for a while.”

  “I assure you, Mr Darcy, I am not at all uncomfortable or embarrassed at seeing you incapacitated. I have been at your side these past two days.”