by Lory Lilian
“Now we can go, too. Miss Bennet; we must hurry.” She looked at him wide-eyed and tried to explain she could not possibly ride in such weather on an unsaddled horse.
“We must leave now,” he repeated, as another thunderclap made the animal nervous and restless.
She remembered little of the next moments. She was only aware of being lifted and placed on the back of the horse, both legs dangling over one side, with Darcy’s body close behind her. She felt she was sliding down and unable to stop her fall, but his right hand embraced and supported her back while his left hand rested on her thighs around her waist, pulling her forcefully and protectively against him as he grabbed the reins.
His hands seemed to burn her though the thin, soaked fabric, and she felt herself quivering. Lightning and thunder frightened the horse; he bucked and then ran wildly; she cried and her hands entwined desperately around Darcy’s waist, her legs pressed against his inner thighs. He somehow managed to calm the animal, which continued to run steadily. The rain was whipping Elizabeth’s face, but she was too scared and overwhelmed by the novelty of her sensations to feel the cold. Suddenly, he removed her hands from him, opened his large gray coat and pulled Elizabeth closer as her arms found their own way back around his waist. Then he gathered the side of his coat together to protect her from the rain as much as possible. Without thinking, she allowed her head to rest on his chest. She sensed him breathing deeply, and then his hands tightened their grip around her, almost crushing her against him.
Instantly the storm around them lost significance and vanished from her mind. Elizabeth was no longer frightened or cold; she felt safer and warmer than ever before.
Chapter 7
Elizabeth could not be certain how long they rode through the rain. All she knew and all she wished was that the peaceful happiness around her would never end. Yet end it did; the horses stopped, and she was pulled away from him—from the warmth and security of his arms—and down from the horse. She heard Mrs. Reynolds give quick orders as two maids accompanied her upstairs in a great hurry.
In a few minutes, she was inside a room, and before she could recover completely, she was undressed and in a tub of hot water; one of the maids handed her a cup of tea. Elizabeth inquired after Miss Darcy and Lady Cassandra. On being told they were both very well, she sighed in relief.
As she slid deeper into the tub, her thoughts went to Georgiana. The recollection of their conversation was still vivid; her regretful torment over the effects of her refusal on both Darcys was matched only by her worry over Georgiana’s present state. She wondered how the girl would behave now that she knew the truth. Would she still consider her a friend? Just before the storm, they had been affable enough, yet Elizabeth knew that her young friend might reconsider their talk in the days that followed, and she might change her opinion completely. However, not for a moment did she regret having confessed the truth; it was unbearable that Georgiana had suffered and blamed herself unjustly all those months.
The maid invited her out of the bath. A friendly fire warmed the room, and though she was no longer cold, she climbed into bed, pulling the covers around her.
She heard a knock at the door, and there was barely time to issue an invitation before Lady Cassandra barged into the room, followed closely by another maid.
“Miss Bennet, I hope you are well.”
“Yes, your ladyship, I am very well, thank you. I was told that Georgiana is well, too?”
“Yes she is; I just saw her. She inquired after you, but we convinced her to have hot tea and remain in bed for another hour, as should you. Darcy decided to delay dinner so both of you could rest a little if you feel inclined to join us.”
“Mr. Darcy has been most considerate, but I will not be able to join you for dinner; my…my clothes are unwearable, and I do not have others.”
“Yes, I thought as much. In fact, I would have found it quite strange if you had dresses to change into here at Pemberley, especially in this room, which is part of the family wing.” She laughed, obviously amused by the idea, while Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured. “That is precisely why I take the liberty of offering to lend you some of my nightgowns and dresses, so you may choose an appropriate one for tonight.”
Elizabeth could not hide her surprise at this unexpected civility as the maid placed three dresses on the bed. For a moment, she considered refusing but instantly realised the absurdity of such behaviour.
“Thank you, your ladyship; that is very kind and considerate of you. I will accept with pleasure, though I have to confess it is difficult to decide. All three are beautiful.”
“Yes, they are, but I would suggest the pale pink one. I believe it would fit you quite well.”
Elizabeth was not sure whether she should be amused or offended by her ladyship’s attitude; she wisely decided to incline toward amusement.
She turned to the aforementioned gown as the maid spread it over the bed so she could better admire it. To Elizabeth, the dresses would have been more fitting for a ball; however, to avoid a new debate, she accepted it with as much politeness as gratitude.
Her ladyship looked pleased. “I shall leave you now so you may prepare yourself. My maid will help you with your hair. ’Til later, Miss Bennet,” she said, not even waiting for a reply.
Elizabeth sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock exasperation. She felt treated like a child in a manner that blended her mother’s style with that of Lady Catherine. The combination sounded so diverting that she began to laugh, wondering what Lady Cassandra would say if she voiced the thought aloud.
In less than half an hour, Elizabeth was dressed and her hair masterfully arranged. Though she knew that dinner would be served later, Elizabeth had no patience for remaining within her room. The rain was still striking wildly on her windows, and she moved closer to look outside.
The sound of the storm brought to her mind the memories—embarrassing and impossible to reveal—of her ride with Mr. Darcy. Now that the danger was past and she did not need his protective care any longer, his gestures, his mere closeness, and his strong body near hers aroused different feelings: feelings she had never experienced before, feelings similar to that quivering sensation she had experienced when he touched her hand—yet more compelling and frightening. His hands had pressed against her back, around her waist, and against her legs to prevent her from falling from the bareback horse, his wet shirt unable to diminish the warmth of his body, his thighs trapping her in their grasp —
The sudden opening of the door startled her as Lady Cassandra entered impetuously and then stopped and searched her face. “Miss Bennet, are you well? You look a little flushed; I hope you are not feverish.”
“No, no—I am well, thank you. I was only deep in thought and did not hear your ladyship entering—
“Oh, I am sorry. I did knock, you know.”
“I am certain you did, Lady Cassandra. Please forgive me for my lack of attention. I am ready to go downstairs, but I was wondering about Georgiana. Is she still in her room, do you know?”
“Yes, she is still in bed. I am afraid she will catch a cold, and we tried to convince her to stay in her room, but she seemed determined to join us for dinner. Perhaps you will be more successful in changing her mind.”
“I shall try, but I am inclined to believe that Miss Darcy can be very determined when she chooses.” Elizabeth was not at all certain how much Miss Darcy would welcome her interference.
With no little surprise, Elizabeth discovered that Miss Darcy’s apartment was only two doors from her room in “the family wing” she remembered as she felt her cheeks burning again.
Miss Darcy was already awake and dressed. At Elizabeth’s entrance, she dismissed the servant and invited her in. After a moment of awkward silence, Miss Darcy moved closer to Elizabeth and took her hand daringly, though her trembling voice betrayed her distress. “Elizabeth, thank you.”
“Why do you thank me, Georgiana? I have done nothing except take advantage
of your servants and Lady Cassandra’s new dress.”
“I remember perfectly well how you took care of me, Elizabeth, how you tried to protect me from the hail…and all that after I had been so impolite to you. I spoke harshly, and yet you answered me kindly—
“Georgiana, there is nothing for which you need thank me. I beg you; let us not talk of it ever again. As for your being impolite to me, let me assure you that I treasure every moment we spend together. I am happy and relieved that we talked—that you trusted me enough to have such a conversation.”
Miss Darcy attempted to answer, but Elizabeth tightened the grip on her hands and shook her head. “Dearest, your hands are warm; you seem to have a little fever. Should you not stay in bed tonight?”
“You and Cassandra are plotting against me, I am certain of it. But I assure you I feel very well indeed, and I want to join you downstairs. I promise I will drink at least two more cups of Mrs. Reynolds’ miraculous tea—just in case. Is that acceptable?” After a few more minutes of negotiation, Miss Darcy won, but only after she promised that, as soon as she felt tired, she would retire with no thought of her duties as hostess.
***
“Well, I would not be surprised if dear Georgiana had caught a cold. I tried to warn you earlier today, but of course nobody listened. Eliza Bennet is well accustomed to walking, and of course, she gave no consideration to Georgiana’s delicate constitution. She dragged her through the storm, exposing her to danger—
Mr. Bingley tried to make his sister see reason. “Oh come now, Caroline, that is absurd! Surely, Miss Bennet did not drag Miss Darcy through the storm! From what she told us this morning, it was Miss Darcy who fixed their plans. How could either of them know a storm would come?”
They had gathered in the parlour—both Bingley siblings and Mr. Hurst—for more than an hour, waiting for their hosts to join them, when a servant had informed them about the extraordinary escapade of Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet.
“Of course it was Eliza’s fault; I have not the smallest doubt. I have been an intimate friend of dear Georgiana for many years and never have ventured out through the woods with her in the middle of a rainstorm. So it must be Eliza Bennet’s doing.”
“In fact, Mr. Bingley is correct. Miss Bennet did not drag anyone anywhere. Quite the contrary,” Lady Cassandra interrupted; she had entered unnoticed and now was walking impetuously through the parlour, her appearance as perfect and impressive as ever. “In fact, it was I who ‘dragged’ Georgiana out of the storm, and Darcy was the one who ‘dragged’ Miss Bennet. I wonder how they managed it all that way, completely soaked, riding together bareback on Darcy’s horse. It must have been a daunting task for both of them,” she concluded, taking a seat on the couch and asking Mr. Bingley for a glass of wine.
As Lady Cassandra enjoyed her wine, Miss Bingley was still not recovered enough to voice a reply. For some minutes, she could only swallow convulsively and stare at her ladyship.
“Lady Cassandra, I am afraid I do not understand; how is it possible that Mr. Darcy rode together with Miss Bennet? This cannot be borne! I have never heard of anything more improper in my life!” she finally cried.
“Well, I do agree that it was highly improper, but we had no choice at that moment. And poor Darcy is placed in a most difficult position: he must decide which situation was more improper—riding alone with me for more than an hour, or riding in the rain on the same horse with Miss Bennet. Now he will have to choose which of us he must marry.”
It was precisely at that moment that Elizabeth entered the room, and the first thing she noticed was Miss Bingley’s crimson face, gaping mouth, and heaving chest as she desperately attempted to breathe. She was tempted to ask what was wrong, but Miss Bingley’s irate look changed her mind.
A few minutes later, the Darcys joined them. Miss Darcy greeted everyone with politeness; Mr. Darcy acted the same as ever, paying equal attention to all his guests. However, every time their eyes met briefly, Elizabeth had the distinct feeling that she could see a trace of redness on his cheeks. As for herself, she was unable to look in Mr. Darcy’s direction without remembering the sensation of being in his arms, and she was certain that she never had blushed as much as she did in that half hour before dinner was served.
During the meal, things settled a bit for Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy asked her opinion more than once; they talked of literature and the theatre—mostly between themselves with a few contributions from Lady Cassandra and Miss Darcy—then he praised her taste in books and openly invited her to borrow anything from his library. Elizabeth blushed and thanked him, allowing her eyes to meet his while she assured him she would take advantage of such a generous invitation.
She was abruptly brought back from her pleasant reverie by Miss Bingley’s harsh voice. “Miss Bennet, are the militia still in Meryton?”
She attempted to redirect her thoughts from Mr. Darcy before answering. “No they are not. They left for Brighton for the summer.”
“It must be a great loss for your family,” Miss Bingley continued.
“We are doing the best we can, Miss Bingley, but thank you for your kind concern. I dare say we shall all survive.”
“Oh, but there was one gentleman in the regiment whose absence I am sure will be greatly regretted.”
“I am not certain to whom you are referring, Miss Bingley.”
“I am sure you do, Miss Bennet. Mr. Wickham was a great favourite in the neighbourhood from what I heard, and more than one lady found his presence highly agreeable.”
Miss Bingley’s tone and insistent stare tried to force a confession. Elizabeth was tempted to answer her accordingly as she turned toward Miss Darcy—intending to roll her eyes in exasperation—but frowned when she saw the young girl’s pallor and trembling hands. Instantly Elizabeth forgot any offense or rage she might have felt and turned to Mr. Bingley, smiling charmingly at him. “Mr. Bingley, you, sir, are one of those whose presence has been greatly missed in the neighbourhood, I must confess. The ball you hosted was one of the most wonderful we had the pleasure to attend. Everybody regretted that you left so unexpectedly.”
Her statement had the desired effect: all eyes and attention turned to Mr. Bingley, and Miss Bingley was silenced immediately. While Mr. Bingley, with some discomfort, expressed his regrets at leaving and promised to host another ball as soon as he was settled back at Netherfield, Elizabeth stretched her hand to hold Georgiana’s. Without drawing attention toward them, she gently asked her younger friend if she were feeling well; the girl’s silent nod did not convince Elizabeth at all, more so as she could feel Miss Darcy’s hand was burning. She cast a quick glance to the master of the house and saw his worried and tender gaze enfolding them both. Slowly, Miss Darcy recovered from her distress, but soon after dinner, she asked Elizabeth if she would mind being left alone with the other guests.
“Not at all; do not worry, Georgiana. If you want to retire, please do so.”
“Yes, I would like that, but I do not want to leave you. After all, you are my guest, and I do not want to leave you unprotected.”
The girl tried to smile, and Elizabeth joined her. “Oh, I shall be fine; I have been in the same company at Netherfield, and I managed to escape unscathed.” She laughed.
“Well, my brother will protect you this time; you may count on that,” Miss Darcy said meaningfully, and Elizabeth did not know how to answer.
They exited the room together after Miss Darcy said a quick good night. Elizabeth saw that both Darcy and Lady Cassandra were aware of the reason for Miss Darcy’s poor mood, and her ladyship’s expression was not to be trifled with.
Elizabeth waited while the maid prepared Miss Darcy for the night. She was worried not only because of the feverish state of the girl but also because of her obvious distress, which continued unabated.
“Elizabeth,” Miss Darcy suddenly spoke with a trembling voice, “I was wondering how Miss Bingley knew—about Mr. Wickham, that is. I doubt William told her, but then who
did? I know Miss Bingley would not do anything intentionally to harm me, but I am afraid she may have talked to others. How many people are aware of the…incident at Ramsgate.”
“Georgiana, you misunderstood Miss Bingley. She knew nothing about you or Ramsgate, and she meant no reference to you when she mentioned Mr. Wickham’s name. I am the one she tried to make uncomfortable as I considered that gentleman a trusted friend at the beginning of our acquaintance. She only wanted to make me look bad in front of—
“She tried to make you look bad in front of William? I never knew her to be so mean! Elizabeth, I am so sorry! I think she is jealous, you know.”
Elizabeth blushed and chose not to answer; she changed the topic again. “I think you should try to sleep now, miss. As you said, I am indeed your guest, and I expect you to entertain me properly tomorrow morning, so you will need all your strength.” She decidedly insisted upon the matter until Georgiana finally declared herself defeated and obeyed.
***
When Elizabeth returned to the others, they were gathered in the music room, but nobody was playing. She presumed Miss Bingley had performed already, and she hoped nobody would insist on her doing so. She was in no mood for entertaining.
Mr. Darcy and Lady Cassandra hurried to meet her, asking about Georgiana. She could assure them that Miss Darcy seemed quite well when she left her, but still Mr. Darcy looked worried.
“I will send a servant to Lambton to inform your uncle and aunt that you are well, Miss Bennet; I will also fetch the doctor, just in case.”
Elizabeth did not think Miss Darcy would need a doctor, but she offered no opinion on the matter; after all, prudence was a good thing when health was involved. She only thanked Mr. Darcy for his consideration.
“Will you return to Lambton too, Miss Bennet? If the rain stops, I mean,” Miss Bingley intervened.