A Touch of Night (23 page)

* * * *

It was well into the night when Bingley arrived back at Netherfield with Georgiana. He helped her down from his curricle and they hurried into the house. He was up the stairs two at a time, his anxiety and impatience driving him, as she followed behind to the best of her abilities.

As he reached the bedchamber door, Elizabeth opened it, her face streaked with dried tears and new, fresh ones following the well-worn marks. Behind her he could see into the room that was lit with dozens of candles. Darcy lay still upon the bed, his body no longer a mass of convulsions. There was no movement at all. His face was like a waxen mask.

Bingley looked from Elizabeth, her tears unstopping, and back to the body so still behind her, and he knew without a doubt that his worst possible fears had been answered. "Darcy!" he cried. "No!!!!!"

Behind him, Gerogiana had crested the stairs, her breath laboured. "Fitzwilliam?" she called. And then she came closer and looked beyond Bingley and beyond Elizabeth. "Fitzwilliam!" she screamed and ran towards the room.

Both Bingley and Elizabeth grabbed a hold of her and held her back from entering the room.

"Please," she sobbed, "Please! I must go to my brother!"

"Don't you realize?" asked Bingley through his tears. "Oh Georgiana! Don't you realize what has transpired? I am so sorry!" And he took her in his arms and they broke down sobbing together.

Chapter Nineteen

Elizabeth realized that Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy had got quite the wrong impression. She mastered her emotions and spoke through her tears. "Miss Darcy! Mr. Bingley! I . . . I did not mean. You have completely misunderstood the situation! My tears did not signify what you have . . . Please do not distress yourselves. Mr. Darcy lives! He is . . . he is much improved."

Bingley and Georgiana looked at Elizabeth, their expressions caught half-way between distress and hope. Georgiana started forward with a strangled sob. "My brother?" she cried.

Elizabeth stayed her by grasping both shoulders. "Is in a deep sleep, and ought not be disturbed. His fever has only just broken, and I have administered valerian. The healing sleep should bring about his complete recovery."

"But," cut in Bingley. "You were crying so . . . we could not help but think the worst."

"They were tears of relief that he had made it through the ordeal. Tears of joy!" Elizabeth said, wiping her still wet cheeks. She beamed bravely at Bingley. "I was so terrified . . . so sure that my potions would do nothing, that the magic would claim his life." She glanced at Georgiana, fearful of further distressing her, but the girl appeared much calmed. "I am . . . so relieved, so . . . I do not deserve this joy." Her tears started again. "I am so happy we . . . we have brought it off, after all."

"May I sit at his bedside, if I am very quiet?"

"Of course," said Elizabeth. "I did not mean to deny you entrance, only to make you aware of his condition. He will remain frail a while, still." She watched Miss Darcy walk tentatively into the room and settle herself into a chair close by her brother's bedside. The love displayed openly upon her face as she gazed at him was deeply touching as was the desolate expression of someone who wished she could have saved a loved one pain. Elizabeth had the same sort of feelings about Jane so many times that she felt as though she knew exactly what passed in Miss Darcy's mind and heart. Elizabeth turned her attention back to Mr. Bingley and continued in a low voice. "Mr. Darcy suffered terribly, beyond what should be all human endurance, and yet he held on and so bravely too. He never . . . he never gave up and the fever finally broke."

"How can we thank you, Miss Elizabeth?" asked Bingley. "The debt we owe you . . ."

"Oh, yes," Miss Darcy said softly, from where she sat. "What a debt my family owes you, Miss Bennet. We shall forever be in your debt."

"I owe Mr. Darcy my life," said Elizabeth. "I would do all I did again, and more for him. He is . . . the best of men."

Bingley took her hand and they both stood there, much overcome. Words could not fully express the emotions that were coursing through them, so they communed in silence. Finally Mr. Bingley stood back. "I should return you to your family," he said.

"At this hour?" In truth, Elizabeth was not ready to leave Mr. Darcy, though she knew him to be out of danger she could not help but fear that if she left him there would be a relapse. The thought of sleeping peacefully in her bed whilst he succumbed to his injury was more than she could bear. "I must stay," she whispered. "Please? I must."

"But . . . there is no hostess here. Propriety . . ."

"It is late to think of propriety, Mr. Bingley," laughed Elizabeth. "And as I have already told you, it is the least of my concerns under the circumstances. I will stay with Miss Darcy. That should suffice. She is a perfect chaperone."

"But after all you have been through nursing Mr. Darcy, you will need sleep."

"A cot in Mr. Darcy's dressing room will do for me and his sister. We will take turns watching over him."

"I should help, too."

"Mr. Bingley, you have already had one sleepless night nursing your friend, and a day of hard travel bringing his sister to his bedside. You must sleep to have the energy to take over from us on the morrow. Which you must do, since there will be no evading my going home tomorrow."

Bingley found he had to accede to Elizabeth's wishes. He entered Darcy's room and spent some time at his side before retiring, asking that he be called should any change occur in his friend's condition. After he left, Elizabeth gave the same instructions regarding herself to Georgiana and retired to the cot in the dressing room.

She could not bring herself to close the door and separate herself that much from the man she loved. It seemed to her as though she should be with him every minute, as though she was only fully alive near him, as if the very room darkened without him there.

But she knew this was Georgiana's time with him now. And she knew Georgiana loved him too, even if in a completely different way. In any event, if Elizabeth had really followed her own wishes she would have lain again by his side, and she had to admit that now he was no longer in dread danger she had no excuse to indulge in behaviour that so recklessly abandoned all the rules of modesty, refinement, and propriety that she had grown up with. Elizabeth lay fully clothed upon the cot and drew the blankets up around her. She was alone in an uncomfortable, narrow little bed, but all her senses took her back to those hours that she had lain with her head upon Mr. Darcy's chest, listening to the ragged beating of his heart and stroking his cheek as the pain and fever ravaged through him.

It was nearing dawn when Georgiana's soft call awoke her. Elizabeth hadn't expected to sleep at all, but weariness and relief had overcome her. She scarcely knew what she'd dreamed, but she had memories of a confused reverie that involved her hand on the dragon's muzzle, of her lips on the man's lips.

"Miss Bennet!" came Georgiana's timid voice. "Are you awake?"

Elizabeth answered the affirmative and, tearing herself from the happy feeling of those images, rose from the bed. The candles around Mr. Darcy were gutting, but weak light from a paling sky was seeping into the room. "How is your brother?" she asked, as she entered the main chamber.

"I am sorry to disturb you," said Georgiana. "There has been no change -- his sleep is peaceful and undisturbed -- but I found my eyes closing and you had said you would sit up with Fitzwilliam if I became tired."

"Indeed. Lie down upon the cot and take some rest, though I am afraid you will not find it a comfortable bed."

"Oh, I'm so relieved that Fitzwilliam is improving that I'm sure I could sleep anywhere." Georgina took a last fond look at her brother, and gave her chair up to Elizabeth.

Scales were no longer spangled across Darcy's forehead. His skin, though still pallid, had returned to its normal texture. In sleep, his face looked much younger and vulnerable. He looked scarcely turned twenty and completely trusting. Elizabeth longed to stroke his cheek where it sloped down from the more accentuated than usual cheekbone, but didn't dare do anything that might disturb his slumber.

Settling down in the chair, she gazed upon him, letting her mind drift along tangents that she knew were better not to indulge in -- dreams of a life by his side. Dreams of watching the flying dragon, of sitting on cold winter evenings beside the man, reading by a roaring fire. Dreams of sharing the man's bed as his wedded wife. Of waking by his side every morning to see him sleeping like this.

After two hours of sitting thusly while the birds in the garden entertained with a dawn chorus, the risen sun brightened the room considerably. Darcy stirred and moaned softly. Elizabeth interpreted it as a sign of thirst. She filled the tumbler with water from the kettle and, raising his head a little with her other hand, held it to his lips. He drank greedily for a moment and then laid his head back, as if exhausted from the exertion of such a simple action. A droplet of water shone on his lower lip.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper with some effort.

"Do not trouble yourself to speak," she said. "Lie still and sleep some more."

His eyes flew open. "Elizabeth! You? Here?"

"Shh," she said. "I nursed you through your fever. You are out of danger now but must rest to recuperate."

"You should not be here." His voice was rasping and he began to get agitated. "I can't . . . ! What have I done? What have you done? You're an unmarried woman, alone with --"

Elizabeth held his shoulders gently, stilling him. "There is no cause to be upset. I chose to nurse you and now I expect you to do as I say until you are better. Your sister will soon take my place and I will return home. Until then do not worry about anything -- only sleep."

"My sister. Georgiana, here?" He relaxed beneath her touch and her voice seemed to sooth him. "Elizabeth," he whispered. "I must still be dreaming." And he drifted off into slumber once more. He did not wake again before Bingley came to take Elizabeth home and Georgiana arose to relieve her. She was loath to leave, but she knew she must.

"Please keep me informed of his progress," she said urgently as Bingley assisted her up to his carriage.

"I promise I will. Would you do me the favour of passing this note to your sister? I hope that tomorrow I way visit her at Longbourn again, but today I must stay with Darcy."

"Indeed." Elizabeth accepted the note and then settled back against the comfortable seats for the short trip from Netherfield to her home. She wondered how her absence had been explained and hoped she was not to be welcomed by a scene from her mother or disapproving looks from her father.

* * * *

Longbourn looked amazingly calm in the early morning sunlight. Elizabeth arrived at a silent home. This silence was soon explained by the circumstance of Lydia and Kitty remaining abed. Jane was partaking breakfast in the small parlour.

She rose when Elizabeth entered, more in concern for her than in politeness. "Elizabeth, you're home," Jane said. "We were just wondering . . . that is," she said, with a shy look. "Papa said we should order the carriage and go see how . . . how your patient did."

"He is better, Jane. He is so much better. And . . . your Mr. Bingley sends you this."

Jane took the letter with a blush and slipped it into a pocket in her skirts to read later, in private.

"Father said you were to go to his study as soon as you returned," she said, and then rested anxious eyes upon Elizabeth's face. "Is Mr. Darcy truly recovered?"

"There were moments when I thought we should lose him," said Elizabeth with a barely suppressed sob, "but, the Lord be praised, he is now on the mend."

"Oh, thank Heaven!" cried Jane, hugging her sister. "Now go to father."

Elizabeth crossed the dark corridor nimbly to tap on his study door. At his brusque "come in" she opened it and peeked around into his sanctuary.

"You're back," said her father, stating the obvious, but it was the relief on his face that told her what she really wanted to know. "I fobbed off your absence to your mother and younger sisters with fairy stories that only held up because they are the silliest people in all of England. But I doubt I could have fooled even them for much longer. How fares the dragon?"

Elizabeth had closed the door while he was speaking and rushed over to the arms he had held open to her. "He suffered most terribly, but Hill's herbs managed to overcome the evil magic of the RHW gun in the end."

"I imagine a lot had to do with his powers of endurance," said Mr. Bennet. "He strikes me as a man of great determination. That which he wishes to do, he will manage however misguided he may be."

"Oh, papa!"

Mr. Bennet's eyes twinkled. "Well, well. Do you mean to have him?"

Elizabeth coloured at her father's directness. "He has not asked me, and I do not expect that he ever will."

Her father snorted. "More than a little misguided -- he is downright foolish. These young men and their nobility." He kissed the top of her head and continued. "I want nothing but the best for you, but if you are as in love with him as I believe you to be, I will see to it that you gain your happiness."

She pushed away from her father. "No -- do not force his hand. I will not have him marry me out of some sense of . . . obligation. I will not throw myself at his head."

"Lord save me from the two of you -- so intent to be sacrificial lambs. The man was ready to give up all his worldly goods for you -- if that does not speak of the deepest love, I do not know what does."

"It is his sense of honour, nothing more," said Elizabeth, hoping against hope that it was her father and not her who had the right of it. "He . . . he felt responsible for my predicament."

Her father tsked. "And so he should. For if he has not managed to make you head over heels with him, I don't know who has." His eyes twinkled some more, crinkling on the corners as though he were on the verge of laughter. "And if he is not just as enamoured of you, I have lost my ability to judge."