Mr. Darcy's Obsession (19 page)

Simms opened the door for him and took his hat and gloves. Darcy nodded his thanks and then paused. "Simms, it is nearly midnight. You should be abed."

The butler looked taken aback. "I always wait up for you, sir."

"You should not. You are already at my beck and call all the day and will be up again at dawn. One of the footmen can admit me so you can rest." If Henry were to hear this conversation, he would be certain Darcy had lost his mind.

"I am perfectly able to perform all my duties, sir."

"I am well aware of it. There is no reason why the burdens cannot be shared. I insist upon it." Darcy ignored his puzzled look and strode down the hall, well content with his evening.

To his surprise, Bingley's voice called his name as he passed the sitting room door. Darcy changed direction to greet him. "Bingley! You are still here."

"Yes, unless you wish me to depart."

"Not at all. I had thought you might wish to leave." For some unknown reason, this night he felt free to speak whatever came to his mind, without judging each word in advance. "I am glad you did not."

"I have a favour to ask of you." Bingley rubbed his hands together.

"Anything within my power."

"Will you be travelling to Meryton soon?"

"Yes. I plan to leave at first light."

"Would you deliver a letter for me?"

Darcy hesitated. "To Jane?"

"Yes." Bingley took a few short paces across the room and then turned to face him again. "I know it is improper and a risk to her reputation, and you would be completely justified to refuse to do it."

A year ago he would have done just that, trusting himself to know better than his friend. "I will take it if you wish, if you have thought the matter through and are certain it is the best course."

"You will?" Bingley lowered his voice. "And will you really give it to her?"

"Bingley, I made an error in not telling you when she was in London, but when I say I will do a thing, you may count on it."

"I did not mean to imply you would not keep your word, but I know you do not approve, and--"

"Whether I approve or disapprove is irrelevant. I have made too many mistakes in my own life to think I have the ability to counsel others on theirs."

"You truly
have
changed!"

Darcy only smiled in response. In truth, it was not that he had changed, but that his love for Elizabeth had changed him. And in a few short hours, he would be in her presence once again.

Chapter 15

Once Charlie had posted the letter to Darcy, Elizabeth fell into a fevered waiting. She expected Darcy would respond in one manner or another, but whether it would be in the manner she hoped and longed for was another question. If he had thought better of the idea of marriage--and she could not blame him if he had--he might, out of generosity and affection, still provide material support. It would give relief of a certain sort, but the idea that it was all that might be forthcoming brought tears to her eyes.

Despite her fatigue, she could hardly sleep that night for worrying about it. It would be days or even weeks before she would have her answer, and she did not know whether she more desired it or feared it.

She regretted her lack of rest when she woke to the sound of the baby's cry. The noise was quickly silenced, no doubt by his mother, but Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed. The sun was already up, and there was work to be done. Kitty would arrive later in the morning to sit with Mr. Browning, but special soft food must be prepared for him, as well as sustenance to keep up Jane's strength. It was hard to believe she was the same girl who had once lived at Longbourn with servants to care for her needs.

She looped her hair up in a simple style and splashed water from the ewer onto her face for a moment's refreshment before facing the heat of the kitchen. As she approached the back of the house, she heard the clanking of dishes. Beside the hearth, Charlie stirred a pot of porridge.

He did not hear her over the crackling of the fire until she said, "I have heard it recommended that people should sleep at least once every few days, Charlie."

He looked over his shoulder at her with a cheeky grin. "Then they haven't learned how to sleep standing up, like I do."

"A useful skill, I am sure, but not often practised."

"What would Mr. Darcy say, if he knew I was lettin' you do all this work?"

For a minute she had actually managed to forget Darcy, but her anxiety swelled again. "We shall know soon enough, I suppose."

He laid the spoon aside and poured a cup of coffee. Handing it to Elizabeth, he said, "When will he get that letter?"

"It should have reached him yesterday if he was in London, another day or two if he has gone to Pemberley. You did not need to make coffee, but I thank you."

"I thought you might need it. Sounded like you had a restless night." He returned to the porridge. "I still don't understand how you drink that stuff. It smells so wonderful, I thought it would be tasty, but it's horrible bitter."

"It is an acquired taste, much like working through the night." The banter eased her anxiety a little.

Warm fur bumped against her leg. She looked down to see the ginger cat, proudly holding a wriggling mouse in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor and waited expectantly for praise. Elizabeth laughed at the tableau, sending the mouse skittering away, with the cat in hot pursuit.

"Caught a rat yesterday, she did," Charlie said. "Half as big as she is."

Elizabeth wondered what Mr. Darcy would think if he knew Charlie was discussing rats with her. It made her wish fiercely for his presence. He was the only one she could tell of her worries. "If the porridge is ready, I will take some to Mr. Browning," she said.

"I can do that, miss," Charlie said. "You sit and have some breakfast."

She gave him a curious look. Charlie did not usually interfere with her work. She must look more tired than she thought. "I will have time for that later."

Charlie crossed his arms, his slight figure a parody of a worried adult. "You didn't eat nothing of your dinner yesterday." His eyes widened at something beyond her. She looked back over her shoulder to see what had caught his interest.

Darcy stood in the open doorway, his tall form casting a shadow through the room, his gaze fixed intently on her. Elizabeth's first thought was that he must have left London before first light to reach Meryton by this hour.

It was not until then that she admitted to herself how much she had feared he would not come. With an inarticulate sound, she ran the few steps to him. As his strong arms closed around her, joy welled up from deep within her, and she knew she would never in her life be happier than she was at that moment.

***

Darcy had spent the hours riding from London in planning precisely what to say when he finally saw Elizabeth. He did not wish to make any foolish mistakes as he had that day in Moorsfield, especially since the deed was already done in this case. He could not imagine why Elizabeth would object to his actions, but she confounded his expectations on a regular basis, so he prepared his arguments as carefully as a barrister going before the judge.

All his planned words, though, flew out of his mind the moment he saw Elizabeth's fine eyes light up at the sight of him, and then she was in his arms. How had that happened? All thought stopped and there was only sensation--the softness of her, her intoxicating scent of lavender combining with the kitchen smells of smoke and baking bread, the tiny curls that escaped from her plait and lay trembling against his shoulder, and the fragility of her frame, which brought out his deepest protective instincts. An indescribable lifting of his soul accompanied the sense that his heart might break through his chest wall.

Every inch of his body was alive--his arms, holding Elizabeth close, his body, drunk on the shape pressed against him, his hands, splayed across the rough fabric of her dress. Never again would he allow her to wear such a garment; she deserved the finest satins and silks, and yet he was able to delineate the bones of her stays through the linen, see her delicate features in repose against the lapels of his coat, her fine eyes closed, her dark lashes striking against the fairness of her skin. To think that he would soon have the ability to experience this miraculous sensation whenever he desired!

It was altogether too soon for Darcy's taste that Elizabeth drew away from him, leaving his arms aching because of the loss of her.

"I beg your pardon, sir," she said in a shaky voice, wiping her eyes.

"Elizabeth." Her name slipped from his mouth like a caress. "You need never ask pardon for that." It was as if he were bound to her by invisible ties that sought to bring them together, and he had to struggle not to give in to the almost overwhelming force.

Elizabeth must have felt something of the same, because she closed the short distance between them until he embraced her again. He could never tire of this sensation. He whispered against her hair, "My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."

"Thank you for coming," she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head against his shoulder. "I did not expect you so soon. I know you have many other concerns."

"None as important as you. Surely you knew I would come."

Her silence was more telling than any words could be.

"You should have known it. I have been longing for any excuse to come to Meryton, and I was grateful that you wrote to me."

A female voice spoke from behind him. "Lizzy!" Jane exclaimed.

They leapt apart. Elizabeth, her immediate mortification at being caught in such a compromising position slightly ameliorated by her recollection that Jane was already party to some of her shocking behaviour, tried to busy herself by taking the baby from her sister's arms. Jane looked haggard, as if she had slept little. Charlie seemed to have vanished.

"Mr. Darcy, I had not realized you were here. Perhaps we should adjourn to the sitting room. The heat will be less there."

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy surreptitiously as he followed Jane, but he did not show any of the embarrassment she had anticipated. Perhaps he was well trained not to betray such sensibilities.

"Mrs. Browning, it is a pleasure to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were happier," he said when they had traversed the few feet to the sitting room. "I was sorry to hear of your husband's illness."

Jane nodded in acknowledgment. "It is good of you to have come all this way."

"I will be happy to do anything in my power to offer you assistance."

"I thank you and will keep your offer in mind."

Darcy ploughed on. "I have already taken some action in this regard. My solicitor is even now en route to meet with your uncle, Mr. Philips. Mr. Gardiner advised me he would be of assistance in letting a suitable accommodation for Mrs. Bennet and your family. There is also the question of providing the care Mr. Browning will require, should his condition fail to improve."

Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who sat with her hands folded and her eyes on the floor. Clearly the response would be up to her. "That is very generous of you, sir, but I do not see how we could accept your offer, as it is one we could never hope to repay." She dared not look at Darcy.

"I do not expect repayment. It is perfectly appropriate for me to provide for my wife's family."

Her attention snapped to his eyes. His steady gaze held her like a warm embrace. He was not smiling, but his satisfaction was evident. He said, more gently, "The notice of our engagement is to appear in today's newspapers. That will stem any notions of impropriety."

Was it so simple? She could not complain of his choice, since he could have no doubt about her acceptance of his hand, but the audacity of his actions was surprising. She cocked her head to one side and said, "You seem to have taken everything in hand quite quickly, Mr. Darcy. Tell me, are we married already? I would so dislike missing the event."

Now he did smile, the open, free smile she remembered from their walks in Moorsfield. "Unfortunately the rector insisted that I must wait for your presence, but there is no time like the present, Miss Bennet. I imagine the curate here is awake."

There was a soft gasp, and Elizabeth patted Jane's hand. "Do not fret, dearest Jane. Mr. Darcy is but teasing."

Jane rose to her feet. "I am glad of that, but I am far more delighted that you have come to an understanding with my sister, Mr. Darcy. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the family." Although Jane's smile was warm, Elizabeth thought she detected shadows in her eyes. How could it be otherwise? This was a reminder that Jane had been forced to forgo the privilege now granted Elizabeth: marrying the man she loved.

Darcy bowed. "I thank you." There was one more duty he wanted to discharge before she left. He turned to Elizabeth. "Though I am loath to part from you, I must request a private audience with your sister."

To his surprise, Elizabeth looked more relieved than concerned. "You hardly need my permission for that, sir. I will see you later, I hope?"

"You may depend upon it." He hated to part from her even for the few minutes it would take.

The light seemed to grow dimmer when Elizabeth closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with her sister in the small room. Jane's mouth was set in a thin line.

"Mr. Darcy, if your intentions towards my sister are less than honourable, you must know that no amount of generosity could purchase my cooperation with such a proposal."

Taken aback by her sharpness, Darcy said, "Everything I have said to her today is true. I intend to marry her, and the sooner, the better."

Jane seemed to relax at that and used her foot to start the cradle rocking again. "I am sorry if I offended you. I could think of no other matter you would wish to hide from Lizzy."

"I apologize for the confusion. The matter of which I wish to speak to you has nothing to do with Elizabeth, or even with me. I am merely the messenger. I was asked to deliver a letter to you, and I thought it best done in private." He drew out the letter from his pocket and held it out.

Jane eyed it hesitantly, as if it were a serpent. "Who is it from?"

Darcy fixed his gaze on the mantelpiece before replying. "Mr. Bingley." He waited until he felt the letter tugged from his grasp and then he went to the window, pretending a great interest in the alley outside. It would be unfair to observe her in such a private moment.

The seconds seemed to tick by interminably. How long would it take her to read it? It had not appeared to be a lengthy epistle, though he knew what a struggle it could be to make out Bingley's words. From the wavy outline of her form reflected in the uneven glass, she seemed still to be reading it.

He heard a sniffle and bit his lip hard. He had been afraid it would upset her. It had gone against his instincts to give it to her, but he could not break his word to Bingley. He willed her to finish reading it so he could go to Elizabeth.

The reflection moved abruptly, and he turned to see her carefully place the letter in the cold hearth and set a candle flame to the corner of it. He watched with her as the corners of the paper curled up and turned black. When the flames had devoured the letter and died down, she straightened, looking far older than the carefree, smiling girl who had danced with Bingley at the Meryton Assembly.

"If you wish, I can deliver a reply when I return to London. No one need be the wiser." It was the only thing he could offer in the face of her pain.

When she looked at him, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "There will be no reply. Nothing has changed. You may tell him that, if you choose."

He nodded gravely. "I will."

She leaned over the cradle, gently folding back the edge of the swaddling cloth in order to see the baby's face better. Her strong emotions were almost palpable.