One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (7 page)

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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That opinion of him was, at the moment, in flux. His kindness in procuring ice for Jane's head and his concern for her own well-being had come as a surprise. He had taken liberties in commanding the Netherfield servants to do his bidding, yet she had to acknowledge that his manner was so authoritative that it would be a rare servant, indeed, who would decline simply because he was not master of the house.

It was while she was thus engaged in thought that the ice and the chaise were delivered to the room. Elizabeth prepared the ice as Mr. Darcy had instructed and carefully placed it on Jane's head. As predicted, Jane complained, and Elizabeth spent the next hour coaxing Jane to leave it in place. Eventually, however, Jane acquiesced and allowed it, soon declaring that her headache was beginning to subside as well. Once she got Jane settled in with the ice, Elizabeth laid down on the chaise and slept lightly, getting up to refresh the pack frequently so that it would not melt too much and soak the pillows.

Within a few hours, Elizabeth could see that the swelling had visibly reduced, and more importantly, Jane's mind began to clear. Although she still suffered a degree of confusion, particularly about the event of the accident itself, her mind was returned to the present with sufficient clarity that Elizabeth no longer feared that Jane would give away any more of the secret longings of her heart.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

A Book from the Library

 

W
hen the sun was low in the sky, Elizabeth opened the curtains again to gaze on the countryside before her. She yearned to leave the room that had held her captive for a day, but it would not do to leave Jane yet. Although her sister was much improved, Jane could sit up for only a moment before she was overcome with dizziness; and she could not yet tolerate solid food, becoming nauseated with even a crust of bread. Jane's headache was still severe, so Elizabeth did not even have the pleasure of sisterly conversation to pass the time, for it pained Jane to speak.

The passage of time seemed suspended as Elizabeth stood in the window, an amber glow enveloping her as the sun sank towards the horizon. The rattling of the coach returning home caught her notice, and she looked down through the glass as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy emerged from the carriage. She smiled at the recollection of Mr. Bingley offering to comfort Jane by posing as her husband. Although it had been scandalously improper, it had also been so genuinely sweet that Elizabeth could not consider it a fault in him. Jane could do worse than to marry such a man, for he clearly adored her, Elizabeth decided, and mentally endorsed Mr. Bingley as a worthy candidate for Jane's heart.

A soft tapping on the door was followed by the maid's entrance. She brought a dinner tray and set it on the small table in the room. She stirred and fed the fire, then went about the room lighting the candles. When she had finished, she asked, “Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?”

“Perhaps there is.” Elizabeth answered. “I would very much like to have something to read to help pass the time while my sister is resting. Would you ask Mr. Bingley if I might borrow a book from his library?”

“Yes, miss.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and quit the room as Elizabeth sat down to eat. She had plied Jane with broth all day, but had eaten little herself and realized that she was famished. She was nearly finished with the bowl of soup when there was another knock at the door. Assuming it was the maid, she stated loudly enough to be heard, “Come.”

The door swung open to reveal Mr. Darcy nearly filling the threshold, although he did not cross it.

“Have you lost your way, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth put down her spoon and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I am afraid I cannot help you, for I have not left this room all day and do not know my way about the house. Shall I call the maid to guide you?”

Something akin to a smile flickered across his lips, and he stepped into the room—although not far enough to have a view of Jane.

“How is your sister? Has her condition improved?” He shifted into a relaxed stance that appeared as though he had planted himself for a lengthy conversation.

“Why, yes.” Elizabeth responded sincerely. “Thank you for your kindness in sending the ice for Jane today. I believe, sir, that it made a difference in the swelling, and she is resting comfortably now.” Her eyes met with his for an instant, and she found herself intimidated by the intensity of his gaze. She turned away, gesturing at his other offering. “The chaise is very comfortable.”

“I thought you looked more rested,” Darcy said, nodding. “I am glad you made use of it.”

Elizabeth bristled slightly. “Rest was not my aim today, Mr. Darcy. I believe that when my sister has recovered sufficiently, I will have ample opportunity for respite. Until then, my own rest is but a distraction.”

“Your affection for your sister does you credit, but you must not make yourself ill in tending to her.” Darcy chided her softly, again stepping closer as he spoke.

“I am perfectly fine,” Elizabeth retorted. “I have had rest enough indeed; it is only want of exercise that affects me, for I have not dared to leave Jane. She has been in such a state....”

“A state of
wedlock
as I understand it—your sister has likely never been as happy and content as these past hours have afforded.” Darcy said drily. “You need not fear that Bingley gave it away. I confess that I overheard your conversation this morning. Were it not for the seriousness of her injury, it would be a most diverting anecdote.”

“Jane could not help it,” Elizabeth cried, “and her confusion was of short duration. I assure you that she suffers no such delusions at present, only a headache and dizziness.”

“Have you not left the room at all today, Miss Bennet?” Darcy turned the conversation back to Elizabeth.

“Well, I ... well, no.” Elizabeth admitted.

A sound in the doorway caused them both to look there, only to see the maid timidly waiting for a break in the conversation. “Begging your pardon, miss, but Master Bingley says that you are most welcome to fetch a book from his library, as soon as you would like.”

“You will remain here with the eldest Miss Bennet,” Darcy said to the maid, “I will escort Miss Elizabeth to the library.” Darcy looked at her, motioned toward the door, picked up a candle and said, “As they say, there is no time like the present.”

With a gulp, Elizabeth realized that in truth, she did not know where the library was. It irked her that she needed to be shown the way; but being determined not to spend another day in the room without a book, she nodded and followed him through the doorway.

She walked at his side through the dimly lit hallways, conscious of the length of his enormous strides as she attempted to keep up. He touched her only once, when he turned down a corridor and Elizabeth, unfamiliar with the route, missed it. She felt a light touch on her back as he silently guided her into the turn, and glancing up at him, she found a kindly face looking back at her.
It is the shadows that make him look that way
, Elizabeth told herself,
for had he been a truly kind man, he would
 
not
 
have been so rude about Jane
.

Darcy began to slow down, but Elizabeth increased her pace, recognizing that the doorway ahead must be the haven of the library. She reached for the doorknob excitedly, only to find that Mr. Darcy's hand was already upon it. She drew back at the unexpected contact, inhaling loudly.

“I am informed, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy swung the door open as he spoke, “that patience is a virtue.”

Elizabeth crossed through the doorway and turned, extracting the candle from Mr. Darcy's hand as she did so. “I beg you to forgive my enthusiasm on reaching our destination, Mr. Darcy. I was, indeed, impatient.
 
Patience, I fear, is not a virtue I own in abundance. I require privacy and time to make my selection. I thank you for showing me the way.” She dismissed him with finality, “I will close the door behind me when I am done here and am perfectly capable of finding my way back to Jane.” She entered the room, holding the candle high in order to illuminate the shelves, and then approached the nearest collection to peruse more closely.

Mr. Darcy stepped back with a slight bow. He fully intended to leave then, yet there was something in her attitude that unsettled him. He stayed just beyond the doorway, studying her as the flickering candle cast a pool of light where she stood. He told himself that he was merely curious as to which volume she would select, but it was watching Elizabeth herself that mesmerized him. She was unaware, he knew, that her appearance had become slightly disheveled, most likely when she had taken a few naps in the course of the day; and now, loose strands of escaped curls surrounded her face. These created a halo-like effect as they reflected the candlelight, giving her a cherubic appearance that he found enchanting. She moved about with a natural grace, and she seemed almost reverent toward the books, caressing the bindings with her fingertips as if she could discern what was within them by a mere touch—a curious act which Darcy found great pleasure in observing.

A door in another part of the house slammed, and Elizabeth glanced toward the library entrance. Darcy drew further into the shadows, somewhat ashamed of himself for lingering so long and indulging in thoughts and feelings that could never be acted upon, never even be spoken. He determined in that moment, however, that there was no harm in pursuing a platonic friendship with Miss Bennet, so long as he concealed any tendency toward sentimentality toward her. He just wanted to know her better. That was all. He looked up and watched as she read a few passages of the book in her hand, closed it carefully and decisively tucked it under her arm, turning toward the door as she did so.

A few steps more and she would undoubtedly detect his presence. He looked for a way to disappear and was just about to do so when Bingley appeared at the end of the hall. “Darcy!” He called. “There you are! We are waiting for you in the drawing room. Caroline will not begin our card game without you. She was quite insistent that I come to find you.”

Elizabeth was now at the door, a look on her face that Darcy found himself unable to interpret. “I am coming.” Darcy replied, walking quickly toward Bingley.

“Oh,” said Bingley with a grin when he spotted Elizabeth. “I thought you were alone.”

“No.” Darcy replied, not breaking stride. “I showed Miss Bennet the way to the library to choose a book from your collection. We are finished.” He breezed past Bingley, who, with one more glance down the hall at Elizabeth, turned to catch up with Darcy.

Elizabeth, having closed the library door, stood alone in the hallway, watching the two men of Netherfield retreat, her own mind in some confusion as to why Mr. Darcy had remained in the hall.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

An Accomplished Woman

 

T
he next morning, with a fresh ice pack newly placed and a dose of pain tonic causing Jane to sleep, Elizabeth once again went to her assigned guest room to change. She drew back the curtains, weary of the gloomy darkness of Jane's room, and turned her face to the morning sun that was just rising above the distant hills. Knowing that Jane would not awaken for some time, Elizabeth determined that a morning walk was all she desired. Additional clothing had come from Longbourn, and Elizabeth chose the warmest of the dresses, a muslin frock that was courser in texture than the others and slightly heavier. With pantaloons and a petticoat, plus her favorite pelisse and hat, she would be warm enough. Holding a pair of gloves in her hand, she returned to Jane's room, where the maid had just delivered breakfast and was stoking the fire.

“Good morning, Susan.” Elizabeth greeted her cheerfully. “I am going on a walk in a few minutes. Would you be so kind as to check in on Jane while I am out? I am sure she will sleep, but it would be a comfort to know she will be watched over. I will not be long.”

“Yes, Miss Bennet.” The maid curtsied and then looked at the sleeping Jane. “I will take care of her as if she were my own sister.”

“You are very good.” Elizabeth smiled as she hastily ate a piece of toast. “Some fresh air will do much to renew my spirits.”

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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