One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (49 page)

Elizabeth wiped her tears away, her eyes wide as she took his meaning.

“Do you remember anything else of these dreams?” Darcy asked.

Elizabeth nodded, and trying to compose herself, sweetly teased, “I thought you were an angel.”

“I am no angel.” Darcy frowned. “If I were, we would not be alone in a bedchamber.”

“Mr. Darcy, I assure you, if I were to make an indelicate sound, we would not be alone for long.” Elizabeth replied quietly. “The door may be closed, but you may be assured that my sister is on the other side of it.”

The sides of Darcy's mouth twitched as though a smile were attempting to appear. “Then let us make only delicate sounds, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Only delicate sounds then, Mr. Darcy. We are agreed.”

“What else do you remember?” Darcy asked. “I daresay that is a safe topic.”

“Perhaps.” Elizabeth replied, “I do remember it, although it is unclear, as if I am seeing it all through a thick fog.”

“But you
 
do
 
remember.” Darcy pressed. “Do you recall what you said when you thought you would never see me again?”

“Well… yes, I think so.” Elizabeth stammered slightly. “The words are hazy.”

“I beg you not to trifle with me through talk of hazy words.” Darcy replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know you were delirious when you spoke, but then you said that you love me. You are not delirious now, and I must ask you—can it be true?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth looked at the wall, color flooding her cheeks. “How am I to answer such a question?” She returned to her occupation of tugging at imaginary threads on the counterpane.

“Much depends, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said quietly, “on your answering it honestly.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes once more. “I was utterly convinced that you were dead, Mr. Darcy. I cannot convey to you the depth of my despair.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Darcy whispered urgently.

Elizabeth sighed deeply as she resigned herself to full disclosure. “Yes.” It was barely audible. “Yes. I meant it.”

Darcy reached and took her hand from atop the counterpane, and raising it to his lips; he kissed her fingers, curled around his own, and then he kissed the back her hand. He then turned it over, and with his fingertip, he lightly drew the image of a flower in her palm, and gently kissed the center. “Miss Bennet, I am not at liberty to openly declare an attachment today, but you must know that my attentions toward you are not capricious. Certain obstacles must be dealt with before I can make my love for you known to the world, but I must tell you here and now, with God as our witness, that I do love you as well, most ardently.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hand. “The obstacles you speak of, will you not tell me what they are?”

Darcy retrieved her hand again. “I do not wish to burden you, but I will tell you that it has to do with my sister. I would very much like you to meet her.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I would like that as well. Perhaps after Christmas.”

“I was thinking of later this week.” Darcy replied. “I will go to London and return to Netherfield with her in a few days.”

“You are to leave?” Elizabeth asked forlornly.

Darcy froze at the sound of her plaintive question. He mentally rehearsed his options before he replied, “Dearest, I must. I wish that it were not so, but perhaps it is for the best.” Darcy said, “You must rest, and if I stay here, it would be a torment to us both. I cannot continue to come to your bedchamber—the servants will talk even if our friends do not. It truly is best that I go....”

“Mr. Darcy, it is not fair.” Elizabeth replied.

“Not fair?”

“It is not fair that you extracted a confession of a most intimate and personal nature from me, and now you leave before I can do the same.” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.

“Oh. By all means, I am at your disposal. What am I to confess?” Darcy asked with surprise.

“There is one other thing I remember.” Elizabeth's color deepened. “When you spoke to me, and thought I did not hear, your form of address was familiar. Did you not call me ‘Elizabeth’?”

“I confess that I did.” Darcy nodded.

“May I ask why?” Elizabeth puzzled.

“How can you not know why?” Darcy pulled his head back, feigning astonishment. “I have thought of you as 'Elizabeth' for some time now.”

“You have?” Elizabeth's astonishment was not feigned. “But surely we are not so well acquainted as to justify the use of Christian names.”

“Miss Bennet, rules of propriety may dictate that which I speak aloud, but in the purview of my thoughts, I am sovereign.”

“I cannot pretend that this does not surprise me, Mr. Darcy—I am astonished, and yet, I have a favor to ask, and I hope you do not think me too bold in asking. Will you say it aloud for me to hear now, while my mind is clear?”

Darcy looked into Elizabeth's eyes. “In private, perhaps, when it is just you and me, I will say it whenever it pleases you, my dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth.” Darcy raised his hand to her face and held her cheek in his palm. “What will you call
 
me
 
when we are alone?”

“That is simple.” Elizabeth smiled as she unconsciously leaned her head into his hand. “We should not be alone at all, but should the occasion arise, I am prepared for it. Your name is Fitzwilliam, and that is who you now are to me, and who you ever shall be.” She raised a finger to her lips in thought. “You added a few sweet adjectives to my name, the least I can do is the same for you.” She tipped her head to the side, and said, “You are my kindest, noblest Fitzwilliam.” She nodded happily. “Yes, that will do for now, but I may change my mind in the future. This was very short notice.”

Darcy stood and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I will hurry back to you from town, I promise.”

“And I shall try to be well when you return, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth smiled lovingly at him as she spoke his name. “It would not do for me to be ill when I meet your sister!”

“There are a great many other reasons you need to be well, Elizabeth.” Darcy said softly. “We have much to say to each other when you are well.”

Darcy backed silently to the door where he would leave, his eyes never leaving the woman he hoped to make his wife. Upon reaching the door, he opened it, only to find that Jane, Bingley, Anne and the colonel were all pressed up against it. Only the colonel actually fell.

Chapter Forty

Away to London

D
arcy looked down at his cousin on the floor and dryly said, “I have not known you to be a praying man before this. Miss Elizabeth's fever may have done some good, if it has driven
 
you
 
to your knees! I must implore you to say your amens, however, and rise. There is much we need to speak of.”

“Amen.” Richard said emphatically, with a nod, and rapidly found his feet. “I will meet you in my chambers, Darcy. We will be undisturbed there.” He hastily beat a retreat from the room.

Jane, Bingley and Anne had all stepped back, leaving a clear path for Darcy to pass into the sitting room. He bid them all to sit and then he secured the door to the hallway before he spoke.

“Anne,” he said gravely, “Miss Elizabeth did not actually request to see me, did she?”

Jane and Mr. Bingley looked at Anne together with astonishment, while Anne looked guiltily down at her hands, which lay folded neatly in her lap. “Not exactly,” she finally admitted, “but I thought it would be good for her spirits.”

“You may have been right in your belief, but the means was very wrong.” Darcy frowned. “She was not prepared for it.”

“She did ask if you were still near, cousin, and was most assuredly comforted in my answer that you were. With her fever gone and Mr. Jones' draught in her, she was surely sufficiently lucid to speak with you. We—none of us—ever imagined that you would close the door.” Anne looked at him defiantly. “I made certain that she wore a dressing gown over her nightdress. She was not inappropriately attired.”

“I am not angry, Anne. I suspect however, that Mr. Jones' draught contains ingredients that weakened Miss Elizabeth's natural reserve.” Darcy raised his eyebrows. “Although she seemed perfectly rational, her speech was slower—her words slightly slurred. When she awakens, she may very well be distraught to recall what she has revealed.”

Jane gasped. “Mr. Darcy, if what you say is true, she will be mortified!”

“She well may be, Miss Bennet; however, what she has said changes nothing of my regard for your sister.” Darcy replied. “She said nothing indelicate or untoward. She was perfectly ladylike.”

“I should go to her.” Jane said, moving toward the bedchamber. “I thank you for your assistance today, Mr. Darcy, but I think it may be best if you leave now.”

Darcy nodded, watching Jane as she quit the room. He then turned back to Anne. “It is already past tea-time. Your mother will discover that you are not in your room as she has believed, and her wrath will shake the rafters of Netherfield if she finds you in a sick room. I think you too must go.”

Anne nodded. “You are correct, cousin. I will go and will pretend to have been sleeping late for my mother's sake. Heaven only knows how many times I have done so before! I can only hope that my assistance today has been of some service to Miss Elizabeth.”

She looked strangely at her cousin—a searching look, a hopeful look, and then she continued, awkwardly, to share the thoughts that had been on her mind in the course of the day. “There is something so very singular about Elizabeth Bennet—she is quite extraordinary. I know that this is not lost on you, cousin, for I can see in every look that you love her, and I believe that her feelings are the same.” Anne shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms over her chest before she continued. “You may be one of the most eligible marriage prospects in all of England, but even I can see that you are barely worthy of her. I love you as if you were my own brother, but I see your faults as any sister would. They are nothing to me, of course. I admire you all the same, yet I will lay them before you—because I know that no one else will!” Anne stood and began to pace. “You are too proud. I have lived all of my days in a household of pride, and the pain it has caused could fill volumes.” She gave him a foreboding look before she continued. “Too often, your arrogance turns to a selfish disdain for the feelings of others. Elizabeth is a compassionate and caring woman—she will
 
not
 
be able to respect you if she discovers this trait.” She had looked at the door as she spoke and lowered her voice, as though Elizabeth might overhear her and discover it from this very conversation. “As for your high station—look to my mother and you will see the toxic effects of the preservation of rank. She may remain high and mighty, but her throne of nobility is a cold and lonely place.” Anne shuddered, and Darcy realized the depth of loneliness this must have brought to Anne as well. “I have seen you reject the daughters of dukes and earls without ceremony, cousin, and I am certain you feel Miss Elizabeth is beneath you. For once, listen to your heart instead of that conceited head of yours, William. Elizabeth Bennet is not merely your equal, she is your superior in many ways, and a love match with her would secure you a lifetime of happiness. There. I have said my peace and will say no more.”

Darcy, who had listened patiently, replied, “Anne, I have never heard such a speech from you in all our days! I am certain it took a great deal of courage for you to do it.” He looked at her intently. “You are perfectly right in everything you have said, and I can only reply that I value your counsel, my dear cousin, and will take your words to heart.”

Anne had anticipated many possible responses from her austere cousin. This was not one of them. She ran to him and gave him a quick hug as she whispered, “Thank you!” She immediately turned to the door and with a backward glance informed him, “I will go find mother now.”

This left Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy alone in the room. They regarded one another for a full half a minute before Bingley spoke.