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 not come to an end. Yet end it did; the horses stopped and she was pushed and taken away from him, from the warmth and security of his arms, and pulled down off the horse. Other hands — cold, strange, unfamiliar hands — covered her with blankets and took her inside the house; she heard Mrs. Reynolds giving quick orders and two maids accompanied her upstairs in a great hurry.

In a few minutes she was inside a room, and the maids helped her, removing her gown, asking lots of questions about her state — questions she barely had the time to answer — and, before she could recover completely, she was inside a tub full of hot water; one of the girls handed her a cup of tea. The maid informed her that the tea was masterfully prepared by Mrs. Reynolds as a remedy against the cold.

Though disconcerted by everything that had happened in the last hour and still feeling acutely the loss of his arms around her and his heart pulsing beneath the thin, soaked fabric of his shirt, Elizabeth could not help smiling at the efficiency of the Pemberley staff; she thanked the maids for their care and her words seemed to lighten their faces. She asked for their names; then she inquired after Miss Darcy and Lady Cassandra. She was told they were both very well, and she sighed in relief — in the end nobody had been harmed!

While sliding deeper into the tub, her thoughts flew to Georgiana. The recollection of their conversation was still very vivid; her regrets and torment for the effects of her refusal over both Darcys was matched by her worry and distress for Georgiana’s present state. And more, she wondered how Georgiana would behave now that she was aware of the entire truth? Would she still consider her a friend? Or would she regard her as an enemy? Just before the storm started, they had been friendly enough, yet Elizabeth knew that her younger friend might reconsider their talk in the days that followed and possibly change her opinion about the subject drastically. However, not for a moment did she regret having confessed the truth; the thought that Georgiana had suffered and blamed herself for all those months for no reason was unbearable.

The maid invited her out of the bath; and, when she did so, she felt covered in soft, warm towels and then was directed to the bedchamber. A friendly fire was warming the room; and, though she was not cold any longer, she climbed into bed, pulling the cover sheets around her.

As the maids were preparing to leave, they asked if she wished for more tea or something to eat.

“Yes, another cup of tea would be fine, thank you, but I am not very hungry; besides, it must be time for dinner by now,” she answered before she was struck by the revelation that she was a prisoner in that room for the rest of the day. Her gowns were nowhere to be seen and most likely had been sent to be cleaned, which was absolutely necessary considering their disastrous state. So she would neither be able to leave for the Inn, nor join the party for dinner. Flustered by the pleasant idea of remaining at Pemberley overnight, she felt also upset that she would not have the chance to meet the others again; then she scolded herself for being so ungrateful: the only important thing was that she was safe and very well taken care of. Surely she could bear her girlish regrets for not being able to enjoy the attention of a certain gentleman during dinner. “I am worse than Lydia, and I am five years older,” she said to herself, shaking her head in self-reproach.

She was resigned to the idea of having a private dinner in her room, and her worry was directed toward her relatives — who were well and safe, she hoped. 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 for a couple of hours so both of you could rest a little if you feel inclined to join us.”

Elizabeth struggled to hide her embarrassment while she tried to answer in a light voice. “Mr. Darcy has been very considerate, however I am afraid I will not be able to join you for dinner anyway; my … my clothes are unavailable, and I do not have others.”

“Yes, I imagined as much. In fact, I would have found it quite strange if you had dresses to change into here at Pemberley. Especially in this very room which is part of the family wing.” She laughed, obviously amused by that idea, while Elizabeth’s cheeks colored highly. “This is precisely why I am taking the liberty to offer you some night gowns and a few of my dresses, so you may choose an appropriate one to borrow for tonight. I hope you will not mind or consider my gesture presumptuous?”

Elizabeth could not hide her surprise at the unexpected civility as the maid placed on the bed three dresses, all exquisite and of the latest fashion, likely very expensive. For a moment she considered refusing but instantly realized the silliness of such behavior — a refusal with no real reason would only offend her ladyship and place her in a more awkward situation. She cast another quick glance at Lady Cassandra and saw her scrutinizing stare — as if she were trying to read her thoughts. She smiled, allowing her gratitude to be shown in her expression. “Thank you, your ladyship, this is very kind and very considerate of you. I will accept with pleasure, though I have to confess it is very hard to decide. All three of them are just beautiful.”

“Yes, they are,” the lady answered simply, not even attempting to engage in modesty. “All my dresses are beautiful, but I would suggest the pale pink one. I dare say it would fit you very well.”

Elizabeth was not sure if she should be amused or offended by her ladyship’s attitude; she wisely decided to incline toward amusement — obviously, that was Lady Cassandra’s style and way of acting, even when her intentions and reasons were for the best.

She turned to the mentioned gown as the maid spread it over the bed so she could better admire it. For Elizabeth, the dresses would have been more fitting for a ball; however, to avoid a new debate and considering the other two dresses were mostly the same, she accepted it with as much politeness as gratitude. Her ladyship looked pleased. “I shall leave you now to allow you to prepare yourself. My maid, Janey, will come to help you with your hair. Till 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 which mixed her mother’s style with Lady Catherine’s. The “combination” sounded so diverting to her own ears that she started to laugh, wondering what Lady Cassandra would say if she voiced the thought out loud.

Less than half an hour later, Elizabeth was dressed and her hair masterfully done by Janey, a young maid very proud of her skills and talents, who spoke little, but those times she spoke her words proved her adoration for her mistress. When everything was ready to everybody’s satisfaction all the maids left, but not before insisting countless times to be fetched if Elizabeth might need anything else.

Though she was informed that dinner would be served later, Elizabeth had not the patience for remaining within her room; the rain was still hitting wildly on her windows, and she moved closer to look outside.

The sound of the storm brought to her mind the memories — embarrassing, impossible to reveal memories — of her ride with Mr. Darcy. Now that the danger was gone and she did not need his protection, his help, or his care any longer, each of his gestures, his mere closeness, 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 much more powerful and much more frightening. His hands pressing against her back and around her waist, against her legs in an attempt to hold her from falling off of the bareback horse, his wet shirt unable to hide the warmth of his body, his tights trapping her in their grasp …

The sudden opening of the door startled her while Lacy Cassandra entered impetuously, 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 was 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,” answered Elizabeth, not at all certain how much Miss Darcy would welcome her interference.

With no little surprise at her ladyship’s directions, Elizabeth discovered that Miss Darcy’s apartment was only two doors away from her room. “The family wing” — she remembered, while she felt her cheeks burning again.

Miss Darcy was already awake and dressed, and her maid was doing her hair. At Elizabeth’s entrance, she dismissed the servant and invited her in, clearly uneasy, her eyes mostly kept on her hands. After a short moment of awkward silence, Miss Darcy moved closer to Elizabeth and took her hand daringly, though her countenance and her trembling voice betrayed her distress. “Elizabeth, thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for, Georgiana? I have done nothing, except take advantage of your servants and Lady Cassandra’s new dress,” Elizabeth answered in jest, trying to laugh away the sudden tension in the room.

“I do remember perfectly well what you did, Elizabeth. I remember how you took care of me, how you tried to protect me from the hail…and all that after I had been so impolite to you… I spoke so harshly and yet you answered me so kindly…”

“Georgiana, there is nothing to thank me for. I beg you let us not talk about that ever again. I confess I do not even remember how I acted or what I did, but I am sure I did nothing more than anybody would do. As for your being impolite to me, let me assure you that I treasure every moment we spend together and every word exchanged. I am happy and relieved that we talked — that you trusted me enough to have that 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. Would you not rather stay in bed tonight?”

Tearful and obviously struggling to bear her emotions, Georgiana could not hold her peals of laughter. “You and Cassandra plotted against me, I am certain of that. 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 this acceptable?” After a few more minutes of negotiation, Miss Darcy won, only after she promised that as soon as she felt tired she would retire, with no consideration of her duties as a hostess.

Elizabeth allowed her the privacy to finish her preparations and walked toward the stairs, trying to remember the location of the drawing room, hoping to meet a servant to direct her; suddenly she remembered a day at Netherfield when she happened upon Mr. Darcy while he was playing billiards. The memory sent cold shivers along her arms while she felt suddenly very warm and very grateful that she was alone and nobody could witness her silly reactions. “I cannot remember another time in my life when I have acted so irrationally. I hope I will not make a fool of myself tonight,” she thought, pleased to notice that at least she seemed to find the door she was looking for.

~/~/~/~

“Well, I would not be too 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 only dragged her through that storm, exposing her to all that danger…”

“Oh come now, Caroline, this is absurd! Surely Miss Bennet was not the one who dragged Miss Darcy through the storm! From what she told us in the morning, it was precisely Miss Darcy who fixed their plans. How could either of them know a storm would come?” Mr. Bingley tried to make his sister see reason. They were gathered in the living room — 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 have never ventured with her through the woods in the middle of the rain. So it must be Eliza Bennet’s doing,” she declared, with obvious pride and confidence in her logic.

“In fact, Mr. Bingley is correct. Miss Bennet did not drag anybody out. Quite the contrary,” intervened Lady Cassandra, who had entered unnoticed and now was walking impetuously through the living room, 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 just wonder how they managed it all the way home, completely soaked, riding together bareback on Darcy’s horse. It must have been a very daunting task for both of them,” she concluded, while taking a seat on the couch and asking Mr. Bingley for a glass of wine.

Not even when Lady Cassandra finished the wine had Miss Bingley recovered well enough to voice a reply. For some long minutes she only swallowed convulsively, staring at her ladyship as though not comprehending her words or refusing to believe them.

“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 something more improper in my life!” she finally cried.

“Well, I do agree that it was highly improper, but we hardly had any choice at that moment. And now poor Darcy is placed in a most difficult position: he has to decide which situation has been more improper — riding alone with me for more than an hour along the lanes, or riding in the rain on the same horse with Miss Bennet; then he will have to choose which of us he has to 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 Mr. and Miss Darcy joined them; Miss Darcy looked very well and greeted everyone with friendly 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 felt well but not at all easy. She was not able to look in Mr. Darcy’s direction without remembering the sensation of being in his arms; and she was certain that never, ever, had she blushed as much as she did in that half an hour before the meal was served.

During the dinner things settled a little for Elizabeth. As it happened the previous evening, she was seated near Miss Darcy, at the other head of the table from her host, which was a very good thing considering her strong reactions toward the gentleman. She felt safer to have a distance between them and to exchange only a few stolen glances and some brief phrases during the various topics of conversation.

Mr. Darcy asked her opinion more than once; they talked about literature and 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. Even more, Mr. Darcy encouraged Elizabeth to borrow as many books as she wanted, mentioning that: “you must not hurry to finish them while you are in the neighborhood, Miss Bennet. You may very well keep them as long as you like and return them to me later,” as he was certain they would meet again soon and very often. Elizabeth blushed and thanked him, allowing her gaze to lock with 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 tried to gather her thoughts from Mr. Darcy a few moments 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.

Elizabeth breathed deeply in an attempt to keep herself calm. “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 attendance whose absence I am sure will be greatly regretted.”

“I am not certain who you are referring to, Miss Bingley.”

“Oh, I am sure you do, Miss Bennet. Mr. Wickham had been a great favorite in the neighborhood, from what I have heard, and more than one lady found his presence highly agreeable.”

More than Miss Bingley’s words made Elizabeth angry. Her tone and her insistent stare were trying to force a confession. She was tempted to answer her accordingly, when she turned toward Miss Darcy — just to roll her eyes in mocking exasperation — and she frowned as she saw the young girl’s pallor and trembling hands. Miss Darcy’s blue eyes were blinking repeatedly as she fought back tears. Instantly Elizabeth forgot any offense or rage she might have felt; she turned to Mr. Bingley, smiling charmingly at him. “Mr. Bingley, you, sir, are one of those whose presence has been greatly missed in the neighborhood, I have to confess that. The ball you hosted was one of the most wonderful we had the pleasure to attend. Everybody regretted when you left so unexpectedly.”

Her statement had the desired effect: all the eyes and attention turned to Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley was silenced immediately, knowing all too well that she must not detail the reason for her brother’s sudden departure from Hertfordshire. While Mr. Bingley, with some discomfort, expressed his regrets for 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 was 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 stare engulfing them both. No words were necessary for them to completely understand each other and this time, though she felt shivers shattering her body, Elizabeth did not blush nor did she avert her eyes from his.

Slowly, Miss Darcy recovered from 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 about me, 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 of honor 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 what to answer. She tried to change the topic. “Georgiana, would you like me to accompany you upstairs?”

“Would that not be a little strange — a guest accompanying the hostess while she retires for the night? The girl forced a smile again. “But I would like that, thank you.”

They exited the room together after Miss Darcy said a quick good night. It was not difficult for Elizabeth to notice that not only Darcy but Lady Cassandra, too, were very well aware of the real reason for Miss Darcy’s poor mood; and her ladyship’s expression was something not to be comfortable with.

Elizabeth waited until the maid prepared Miss Darcy for the night and she even joined her to drink another cup of tea. She was worried not just 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 to intentionally harm me, but I am afraid about who else she talked to about it and how many other people are aware of that…incident at Ramsgate.”

Elizabeth breathed in relief and hurried to comfort her. “Georgiana, you misunderstood Miss Bingley completely. She knew nothing about you or about Ramsgate, and she did not mean any reference to you when she mentioned Mr. Wickham’s name. It was I who she tried to make uncomfortable, as I indeed considered that gentleman a trusted friend at the beginning of our acquaintance. And now she only tried to make me feel badly in front of…”

“Oh dear! She tried to make you feel bad in front of William? Oh, but how could she? I never knew her to be so mean! Elizabeth, I am so sorry for all your discomfort! And I was so thoughtless, thinking only of myself and my problems.”

“Dearest, please do not upset yourself again! I have been long accustomed to Miss Bingley’s…mannerisms, so I can handle her very well indeed. I am perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“I think she is only jealous, you know…”

Elizabeth blushed and chose not to answer then 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. Just before Elizabeth said good night and prepared to leave the room, Miss Darcy’s voice stopped her.

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“You still owe me an answer, remember?”

“An answer?”

“Yes, you did not tell me what your true opinion about my brother is now. But I shall allow you to think properly tonight and give me the answer tomorrow,” she added, and Elizabeth was certain the girl was laughing behind her. She only shook her head while sighing deeply: at times, Miss Darcy could be as demanding as her brother.

~/~/~/~

When Elizabeth returned to the others, they were all gathered in the music room but nobody was actually 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 hurried to meet her and accompanied her to a settee, asking her about his sister. Lady Cassandra actually moved next to her inquiring about the same thing and insisting upon more details. She could honestly assure them that Miss Darcy seemed to be very well when she left her, but Mr. Darcy looked still worried.

“As soon as the rain subsides, 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 in thinking about her family.

“Will you return to Lambton too, Miss Bennet? If the rain stops, I mean,” Miss Bingley intervened.

“No, Miss Bennet will certainly not return this evening. I am certain you asked only because of your concern for Miss Bennet’s safety, so there is no need to worry, Miss Bingley,” answered Mr. Darcy sharply and his interlocutor was silenced instantly.

Another few minutes passed while everyone was enjoying their drinks. Lady Cassandra broke the silence with a strangely friendly voice.

“So, Miss Bingley, you find Mr. Wickham’s presence highly agreeable? Well, well, I would not have guessed that; I was certain your interest lay in another direction.”

“I beg your pardon?” startled Miss Bingley, almost dropping the glass. “I most certainly did not. How did your ladyship get such an idea?”

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy and saw his frowning countenance and his insistent, impossible to misread stare, which asked Lady Cassandra to cease the upsetting joke immediately. However, her ladyship simply turned her head toward Miss Bingley, ignoring him.

“Oh, but you just confessed that; no need to deny it now. After all, we are among friends here; you must not feel embarrassed.”

“Lady Cassandra, I assure you, you misunderstood me. I was not talking about me! I barely know Mr. Wickham at all.”

“Barely know him and yet you feel inclined to him so quickly? Strange, but not singular; it has happened to many other young ladies before.”

“No, no!!! Nothing can be further from the truth! I had always known Mr. Wickham to be an unworthy gentleman and I knew of the poor opinion Mr. Darcy had of him. How could I have been inclined toward a steward’s son anyway? It was not me but other ladies in Hertfordshire who found Mr. Wickham’s company agreeable. My sister and brother can testify to that!”

Shifting between mortification and amusement, Elizabeth saw both Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Bingley nodding in agreement but Lady Cassandra seemed to ignore them completely. “Oh, you are only trying to play at modesty, Miss Bingley, I know that. What ladies could you have been talking about? You mentioned to me that you barely knew any lady in Hertfordshire and had no close acquaintance among those people, so how could you have known other ladies’ preferences? And if you considered Mr. Wickham such an unworthy gentleman, why is it you insistently mentioned him at Mr. Darcy’s dinner table? No, you are only trying to deny your feelings because propriety demands so; I am certain of that,” concluded Lady Cassandra, clearly very pleased and satisfied with her rationale. Her victory was complete.

Obviously unable to reply to such an open censure or find a valid argument to justify her behavior, Miss Bingley kept staring in helpless silence at her ladyship, squeezing her glass with both hands.

Elizabeth admitted to herself that she greatly enjoyed the way Lady Cassandra was torturing Miss Bingley; she must have known that Mr. Wickham was not a subject of pleasant conversation in Mr. Darcy’s house, yet it mattered not to her. Her only preoccupation had been to carelessly and selfishly take the first opportunity to offend her “rival”.

However, she felt she could not remain in silence any longer; the notion that Mr. Darcy knew the truth, as well as her own conscience, made her determined to speak. “Lady Cassandra, Miss Bingley is correct — the general opinion about Mr. Wickham had been very favorable in Meryton from the first day he arrived in town, among the ladies as well as among the gentleman. As somebody very wise told me once, Mr. Wickham was blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends, though it is less certain he may be equally capable of retaining them.”

She did not dare look at Darcy, yet she felt his stare burning her face. She struggled and prayed not to blush too obviously, while continuing. “I have to confess I was one of those who considered Mr. Wickham a friend and I was inclined to think very highly of him. However, for a couple of months now I understand that I had been completely wrong in my initial estimation. I assure you, Miss Bingley, that I considered Mr. Wickham’s departure more a relief than a loss — and I am sure my opinion is not singular in Meryton.”

She ended her little speech in a relative hurry, afraid that the emotion and embarrassment would transfigure her voice. Her past dealings with Mr. Wickham were not a secret to anybody in the room, she knew that. But that public admittance of her own folly and the remembrance of how badly she had maligned Mr. Darcy’s reputation and defended Mr. Wickham in front of the entirety of Meryton — and in front of Mr. Darcy himself — threw her in a hole of shame and mortification and made her unable to keep her countenance. She cast a quick glance at Miss Bingley and saw her triumphal and meaningful look around the room, as saying “Now, you see I was correct?” Among all her other feelings, anger became strongest and Elizabeth was afraid she would not be able to control herself. “Is this woman so blinded by her dislike of me or is she only a complete simpleton? Is she unable to understand anything?”

“Ah, Miss Bingley, now I finally understand why you seemed not very fond of Miss Bennet at all. It is only about the old rivalry between two ladies for a gentleman’s attentions.” Lady Cassandra’s reply fell as a shock upon the others in the party — except for Mr. Hurst, who paid no attention to the conversation. Elizabeth stared at her, eyes opened in disbelief at such impropriety, and Miss Bingley became livid, her mouth trying in vain to attempt an answer. Impassible, Lady Cassandra continued, with a smile which proved her delight with the reaction she provoked. “I am talking about Mr. Wickham, of course.”

Elizabeth dared to look at Mr. Darcy and met his frowning expression; their gazes locked for a moment and she thought she could see his countenance softening a little. Never averting his eyes from her, he rose and moved to where the ladies were sitting; when he spoke, his voice was neither kind nor amused and his tone admitted no contradiction. “There has been too much talking about Mr. Wickham in this house for at least one year, so I will not have any of this. I do not find the subject amusing, nor even tolerable, so let us move forward, shall we? Mrs. Hurst, would you indulge us with some music, please?”

Mrs. Hurst’s surprise in being addressed directly was not difficult to notice; she took her place at the piano in some hurry and started performing. Mr. Darcy’s choice in asking Mrs. Hurst to play — he had never done so before as far as Elizabeth could remember — proved his displeasure with the other ladies in the room; and she felt equally upset with herself for allowing herself to be trapped in the conversation and disappointed for having aroused his disapproval. The evening which had been so pleasurable for her suddenly turned into a near disaster.

Barely able to hide her distress, she moved slowly to a corner of the room, apparently paying great attention to the piano. Mrs. Hurst seemed very preoccupied with what to perform and she asked her sister’s opinion. Miss Bingley took a sit near her, promising to turn the pages for her, but instead of performance a long and heated whispered debate started and lasted a few minutes.

Elizabeth startled when she heard Lady Cassandra whispering to her. “Miss Bennet, I am sorry if I upset you insisting upon the subject of Mr. Wickham, but I simply cannot control my anger against Miss Bingley. She knew she should not open that subject in the presence of Darcy and especially Georgiana, yet she did not care; not to mention she was very rude to you.”

Elizabeth looked at her ladyship for a long moment before answering with complete honesty. “Lady Cassandra, you did not upset me; there is no need for apologies. In fact, though Miss Bingley’s unkind manners to me never truly bothered me, I confess I was quite amused by your little revenge against her.”

“I am happy to hear that. I had the impression you looked distressed at some point, but it appears I was wrong.”

“No, your ladyship was not wrong — I was and still am distressed, but not for me. I am afraid that neither I nor your ladyship acted much better than Miss Bingley, and we offended our host as much as she did.”

Lady Cassandra’s eyebrow rose in displeasure at such a censuring statement. “I am afraid I am not following you, Miss Bennet.”

“I am sorry for speaking so freely, Lady Cassandra — but this is my opinion. While Miss Bingley gave no consideration to Mr. Darcy’s will and brought up the subject of Mr. Wickham just to attack me, your ladyship did the same with Miss Bingley without any care for Mr. Darcy’s feelings; and I followed you into conversation until Mr. Darcy was forced to openly scold us. I truly do not know how I could ever apologize to him.”

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Bennet.” Darcy’s voice near her shoulder shocked Elizabeth so utterly that her arm brushed against his when she turned around. She felt her cheeks burning — as much from the embarrassment of her earlier behavior, as from being overheard and from his unexpected closeness — and, when her eyes met his from only a few inches distance, any reply was lost. Their gazes remained locked, both of them ignoring the presence of Lady Cassandra; his countenance was soft and light and his deep eyes showed nothing but warmth, a warmth which penetrated through her own eyes and raced inside her body. Strangely, though she could barely breathe from the hotness, she quivered.

“Well, apparently you will not have to bother to apologize,” said Lady Cassandra, a mischievous smile on her lips as she left them and moved toward the couch, but neither of them heard her.

“Mr. Darcy, I would like to…”

“Miss Bennet, I…”

“Oh, forgive me, please continue…”

“No, no, please, I am sorry for interrupting you, please go on.”

“I wanted to tell you, sir, how sorry I am for the whole incident earlier.”

“Miss Bennet, this time I have to interrupt you. As I said, no apologies are necessary, even more so as you were not at all at fault. Quite the contrary, I want to thank you for your kindness toward Georgiana; she told me how…”

“Mr. Darcy, now I absolutely have to interrupt you! And to tell you the truth, I am surprised to notice how rude both of us have become lately, continually interrupting each other.” She smiled, her lips twisted teasingly; his face lit completely and his eyes moved slowly lower, to her mouth, and for a moment she felt his stare drying her lips. She struggled to continue in the same manner, despite the sudden lump in her throat. “I would suggest finding a subject which will allow us to finish the conversation in a more proper manner.”

“You are correct, of course, Miss Bennet,” he whispered, leaning toward her so she could hear him. She shivered again. “I trust you, Miss Bennet, to find a topic to your liking and I will try to be a diligent partner in the conversation. In the meantime, would you like to sit down while enjoying Mrs. Hurst’s performance? It appears it will finally begin.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and Darcy offered her his arm and accompanied her to the settee; they sat together, a little apart from the others, apparently listening with great attention, yet neither of them aware of anything in the room except the other. Miss Bingley’s angry gazes in their direction remained completely unnoticed. From time to time, Elizabeth’s eyes moved toward Lady Cassandra and met her inquiring, mysterious glances; she could not tell for sure if her ladyship was displeased or approved of their obvious intimacy — yet she refused to give that question much consideration. Her host — and her companion — was the only subject of her interest at that time.

As soon as Mrs. Hurst finished playing, Mr. Hurst proposed to play cards; his wife indulged him as did Mr. Bingley and Lady Cassandra. Darcy declared that he and Miss Bennet were in the middle of an interesting conversation and he would rather not stop it. Miss Bingley’s countenance frowned even more at that statement; she refused to play, walking around the room for almost an hour, attempting more than once to move closer to where Darcy and Elizabeth were sitting, even trying to overhear what they were talking about.

In truth, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy talked about everything and nothing in particular. She rejoiced in the pleasure of being the recipient of his particular attentions in the middle of a room filled with his friends. His preference for her could not be doubted by anyone any longer — not even by herself. With crimson cheeks and a racing heart she listened to him talk about many small yet very private things: his library which was his favorite place in the house, his parents and Georgiana’s favorite rooms, the room which was offered to her; he asked her if she would rather move to a guest apartment — which was much more spacious and offered her all the accommodations — and she hurried to answer, too passionate in her own estimation, that she was more than pleased with the current arrangements. He then took that opportunity to tell her that, despite the danger she and Georgiana had to face, he was happy that the storm kept her at Pemberley for the night. At this, she knew not what to answer; she only allowed her eyes — captured by his — to speak for herself.

Mr. Darcy took every moment to enjoy his relatively private time with Elizabeth. He could not believe his good fortune as she obviously was accepting his attentions with pleasure and did not depart from his side for more than an hour. She seemed interested in everything he said, her eyes barely moving from his, blushing charmingly from time to time, her sparkling eyes and her soft, red lips smiling at him — only at him — as he had wished and dreamed so many times in the past. Her behavior toward him was everything and much more than he had dared to hope a few days ago and for a moment — only for a moment — a wild idea crossed his mind: he should take the opportunity; he should propose to her that very evening! But the next instant he remembered his previous resolution and his sense took control over his impetuosity; he would court her properly, he would show her and everyone else his feelings for her, he would be patient. He would consider only her feelings and desires this time — as for his he knew only too well. His second proposal would not come until he would be certain that this was what she wished and waited for. He would never repeat his mistakes and never force his will upon her.

While deep in his own thoughts, he noticed her wondering glance searching his face. “I must have scared her with my stare; God knows how I look while thinking of all those things.”

He recovered quickly and asked her if she wanted something to drink. Elizabeth accepted and he rose to offer her a glass of wine. Lady Cassandra asked for one too and he indulged her; then Miss Bingley asked for the same favor and he complied again; after that, he took two glasses and moved back near Elizabeth, indifferently and quite impolitely returning his attentions only to her. He gave not the smallest consideration to the fact that his other guests might feel offended. For him, that very night nothing mattered more than Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was tired — more tired than usual at that hour — yet did not even dare to consider that the evening could come to an end. She felt happier than ever and grew more and more certain about her feelings for Mr. Darcy. Though she knew that it was very unwise and dangerously presumptuous, her imagination — filled with hopes and desires — made her believe that his feelings for her were as strong as they were two months ago and that he was not far from declaring himself again. Of course, the voice of her sense advised her to remain rational, yet her heart spoke considerably louder and more determined — so to her heart did Elizabeth listen.

***

Despite Elizabeth’s wishes, the evening did come to an end. Before retiring for the night, Lady Cassandra insisted on checking upon Georgiana once more; Miss Bingley hurried to do the same but Darcy refused her, mentioning that there was no need, as Miss Darcy most likely was well and sleeping. However, he politely thanked Miss Bingley for her concern and offered to advise her if any significant event occurred regarding Miss Darcy. Miss Bingley seemed content with this proof of appreciation; however, before leaving the salon, she asked Elizabeth what room was offered to her. The explanation that Elizabeth resided in the family wing turned Miss Bingley livid from shock and anger, yet she had no time to react as her brother hurried her to retire.

“Darcy, are you angry with me for my earlier exhibition with Miss Bingley?” asked Lady Cassandra, in a most familiar tone, on their way upstairs.

“Yes, I am, but let us not discuss the matter now; we should not expose Miss Bennet to our private quarrels,” he answered, and Elizabeth felt slightly uncomfortable at the idea of their obvious intimacy and familiarity in dealing with each other. She did not even realize that she was still jealous of her ladyship.

“Oh come now, do not be so serious; I would not have mentioned a word if Georgie was around, you know that.”

“Yes, I do, and I do not doubt you care for Georgiana; but I would rather see you more preoccupied by my wishes whilst in my house than by your own amusement at Miss Bingley’s expense. Not to mention that Miss Bingley is my guest too, and, though her behavior is far from politeness and propriety, I would not have you answer her in the same manner again. Please indulge me in this.”

“Very well, then, I shall do what you please,” she answered with mocking obedience. Then, to Elizabeth’s mortification, she added. “As for Miss Bingley and your other guests, you did not seem too preoccupied by any of them in the last couple of hours, as far as I noticed.”

Elizabeth was certain her face was burning and she barely dared to touch Mr. Darcy’s arm with her hand. How could Lady Cassandra say such things, with no restraint? To her even greater shock, Mr. Darcy laughed with a lowered voice and, though she did not dare to look at him, she felt him leaning his head toward her while answering. “Yes, I cannot deny that. I have to confess I had the most wonderful conversation with Miss Bennet tonight; I only hope I did not bore her completely. My conversational skills are not as good as they should be, by far.” Elizabeth sensed him smiling and she finally lifted her eyes; he was indeed smiling, an intimate, meaningful, even daring smile. Breathing became difficult while she struggled to answer and to assure him how much she enjoyed the evening, too.

Lady Cassandra was much quicker in her reply. “Well, though I am not by far as perceptive as Miss Bingley, I dare wager that Miss Bennet has no complaints about your conversational skills. Am I correct, Miss Bennet?”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh, sighing deeply; there was nothing to do with Lady Cassandra, except to take her as she was. “You are absolutely correct, your ladyship. Mr. Darcy’s abilities in making pleasant conversation are growing better and better.”

“Must be the result of following Lady Catherine’s advice; one can become truly proficient only by practicing constantly,” continued Lady Cassandra and Elizabeth had to bite her lower lip to restrain from answering that she was more than willing to help Mr. Darcy to practice daily, if he wanted to.

She felt relieved when they all reached Miss Darcy’s room as she was afraid of where their conversation might have tended. Mr. Darcy remained at the door, while the ladies entered the bedroom. A servant was inside, watching Miss Darcy; she informed them that the young lady had been a little feverish but she was well and slept restfully for the last couple of hours.

Elizabeth moved directly to the bed and gently touched the girl’s forehead; her temperature seemed normal and she could witness her calm breathing. She caressed her hand gently and smiled as she saw Georgiana smiling in her sleep too.

When she left the bed, Elizabeth saw not only Lady Cassandra but Mr. Darcy as well, watching her carefully. Slightly embarrassed by her familiar gesture — which was perhaps not proper in regard to the master of Pemberley’s sister — she assured them that she had not disturbed Miss Darcy, only wanting to be certain everything was in order. Lady Cassandra nodded in approval as they exited the bedroom; Mr. Darcy gave a few orders to the servant then joined them, his eyes instantly falling upon Elizabeth. The way he looked at her sent countless chills through her and she was not certain how to interpret that stare.

She excused herself, declaring she felt very tired and wanted to retire as soon as possible. However, she could not leave immediately, as Mr. Darcy unexpectedly took her hand and placed is on his arm again. They walked all three of them again until in front of her door and there Mr. Darcy took her hand once more and lifted it to his lips while bowing to her. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he whispered and she felt her knees unable to support her for too long. She hoped she answered a “good night” both to him and to Lady Cassandra while almost running from the closed door; she only stopped when she reached her bed. Elizabeth threw herself on the soft, silky sheets and remained there until some time later, when a maid entered to help her prepare for the night.

~/~/~/~

It was well past midnight when Elizabeth was startled in her sleep by a deafening thunderclap and the sound of rain striking the window. She looked around her, disconcerted for a moment, until she remembered where she was. She felt cold and covered herself in the bedsheets. Looking at the fireplace, she saw the flames were strong, lighting the room, yet she could not feel the warmth. She was shivering badly and her own arms wrapped around herself did not help. She needed his arms. She needed and wished him — his closeness, his warmth, his comforting embrace, his tender, caring voice, his hands crushing her against his chest…and then she would not be cold any longer. She closed her eyes, ashamed by her desires but not wanting to give them up. She knew how highly improper her thoughts were, yet she did not allow their impropriety to invade her mind. If she could not truly have him close to her, at least she could keep him near in her mind. She remembered his voice whispering into her ear, and the trace of his kiss on the back of her hand was still burning her skin.

Her lips become dry, so dry that she could not move them. She was thirsty — she had been thirsty the entire night. She rose from the bed, still shivering, and went to pour herself another cup of water — but there was none left. She licked her lips and looked around for a moment, then she pulled the robe around her and left the room; she needed to find some water or at least a servant to ask for assistance. Her arms wrapped around herself, she walked as silently as she could along the long hall without even noticing the shadow in front of her; a scream — but a barely audible one — escaped her parched lips when she bumped into a dark, tall and strong form which she had not even seen.

“Miss Bennet, what is the matter?”

Darcy’s voice startled her but equally comforted her; yet, only a moment later her embarrassment did not allow her to speak. He was clearly dressed for bed, wearing a robe over his other clothes, and her eyes moved from his face to his uncovered neck then lowered to the ground.

“I…I was trying to find some water; I finished it and I felt really thirsty. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”

“No, no, you did not disturb me. I went to ask about Georgiana’s state once more before going to sleep. You should not have left the room but rung for a servant. You seem very cold.”

He was right, she was shivering but she hoped he would not notice. Yet he did and he encircled her shoulders with his right arm while he took both of her hands in his left one. She shivered even more at the feeling of his fingers caressing hers in an attempt at warming them.

“Miss Bennet, you must return to bed this instant, I will send you a servant immediately. Your hands are frozen.” She did not answer, allowing him to support her. She felt very tired, hardly able to walk.

He opened the door to her room but did not stop there. He walked further until inside her bedroom, his arms protectively around her. Elizabeth knew she should not allow him inside — there was nothing more improper. But how could she refuse what she had wished for earlier — the warmth of his closeness?

She felt herself gently deposited on the bed, and he asked her to lie down. She obeyed, her eyes fixed upon his face. His countenance was frowning and she wondered why he was so displeased. Maybe she had disturbed him after all. He arranged her pillow then wrapped her in the coversheets. She blushed, averting her eyes from him: she had never imagined how it would be for a man to perform such gestures for her. His every move drew him closer to her, until she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Miss Bennet, you have a fever, this is obvious. How on earth did I not notice it earlier?” His distress was easy to read, and she tried to answer that she was well but he would not hear of it. “I will send you a servant in an instant. In the meantime I will bring you some water.” He left and returned after less than a minute with a glass full of water. He helped her rise to sit and handed the glass to her; her fingers were trembling and he covered them with his as she drank. Afterwards, he leaned her on the pillows again and in a moment he was gone.

She did not have the time to thank him nor did she notice how many minutes had passed until a maid entered her room with tea, fresh water and all the medicines Mrs. Reynolds had in the house.

Just before sleep swept over her, she asked the servant about the time — it was four hours past midnight. Elizabeth felt much better after the young but very determined maid forced her to drink no less than three big cups full of Mrs. Reynolds miraculous tea. She asked the girl to finally go to sleep herself but the maid refused. After much negotiation, the girl agreed to retire some time later, after she was certain everything was fine with Miss Bennet and the fever was gone for good. Sighing deeply, knowing the maid was most likely following some orders, she gave up and thanked her kindly, then fell into a deep, restful sleep.

***

It was dawn and the rain had stopped when a slight movement in the room awakened her. First she did not open her eyes, only tried to figure why the maid had not retired as she promised. Freezing, she felt somebody sitting next to her on the bed, taking her hand gently then placing a soft, light kiss on her forehead. She did not move, nor even breathe; she knew it was him and she did not dare guess why he was in her room again and what he would do next. For an instant, the realization of what would happen if somebody found him there stuck her, but she put the thought aside as quickly as it arose. His fingers were still holding her hand and all her blood seemed to race to that precise point on her skin. She felt his gaze traveling over her face, then she felt him lowering over her again, his fingers tenderly playing with a lock of her hair. She could not pretend she was asleep any longer; she wanted to see him. She opened her eyes and, before he had time to recover from the shock of being discovered, she smiled at him, their fingers still tightened together. “Mr. Darcy; why are you not sleeping, sir? It is almost morning.”

In the light of the fire she saw him frowning and his face turning pale; he looked mortified and it took a long moment until he could speak, desperately attempting to remove his hand from hers and rise from the bed. “Miss Bennet, please forgive me, I should not be here… I did not mean to… It is only that… I checked on Georgiana; she is well, sleeping, but I could not rest until I was certain that you were well, too… I thought the maid was still here and I wanted to ask her…and when nobody answered my knock, I could not restrain myself from entering. Please forgive me. I know it was outrageous to presume… I have no excuse for my scandalous behavior…”

Her heart melted and she wished nothing else than to caress his handsome face and tell him how happy she felt that he — the most proper of men — had broken the rules of what was strictly proper because of her, that he could not sleep until he was certain she was well. She did not dare to do so but she did dare to do something else: to choose honesty instead of the demands of propriety and decorum. She was not offended by his care, no matter what society might say. She was grateful to have him there and she intended to show him that; and she wanted for him to stay at least a moment longer. The harm had been done anyway. What would another moment cost?

“I asked the maid to retire a little earlier. She had been very dutiful and I was feeling very well indeed, so there was no need to keep her awake…” she struggled to explain while she gathered all her courage and strength to continue. “Sir, there is nothing to forgive; I know there is no excuse for your being in my room at this hour, as I have no excuse for allowing you to stay. However, I want to thank you for your care and concern. I am feeling very well indeed,” she repeated, then added teasingly: “And I certainly hope you will finally get some sleep, too. It would not do to for you to become ill from tiredness.”

An expression of heartfelt delight lit his face and softened it as she had never seen it before; and she was certain he was more handsome than ever. She was no longer cold, yet she quivered when she felt his fingers returning to caress hers. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he whispered, his eyes speaking more eloquently than any words. “As for my becoming ill, there is no need to worry — I am very well; in fact, I am better than I have been in the last many years.”

“As am I,” she whispered, their eyes locked, both searching the other in a desperate attempt at understanding the true meaning behind the words.

“I shall leave you now,” he said after some long minutes.

“Yes…”

“Miss Bennet, tomorrow…”

“Yes?”

“I hope tomorrow we will have the opportunity to talk again…and if the weather will allow us, there are some places I would like to show you. Together with Georgiana, of course…”

Her heart melted in the face of his distress; she dared to presume she knew what he wanted to tell her and did not have the confidence to do it. How could she make him understand he had nothing to fear? Was she not eloquent enough in showing her feelings? After all, she had admitted him to her room in the middle of the night with not a single word of censure. Was that not proof enough?

“Mr. Darcy, I will look forward to anything you would like to show me…or tell me.” She blushed, mortified by her desperate audacity in encouraging him. Her reward was immediate as the light smile on his lips told her he understood her meaning.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I will look forward to tomorrow, too.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and touched them briefly, while his eyes caressed her with breathtaking tenderness. He rose from her side and, with a slow pace and a last look, he finally left. She sighed and laughed to herself in utter happiness, then she placed her lips on her own fingers, on the same spot which had touched his lips; the gesture made her want more; and, until she fell asleep again, she wondered about the feeling of his lips upon hers.

***

Darcy closed the door to Elizabeth’s room with great care, looking along the hall to see if anyone was around. The hall was empty and silent and so was the entire house.

However, in a dark corner of the wall, hidden even from Darcy’s vigilance, a pair of inquiring eyes watched in shock as Mr. Darcy exited the room which was occupied by Miss Elizabeth Bennet.