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I n the two days that Miss Braxton had resided in Netherfield, Darcy had found himself unable to think about anyone or anything else for any significant amount of time before his concern for the lady interrupted his thoughtsandhebecame incapable of paying attention to whatever it was that he was in the middle of until he confirmed for himself that she was still well.

In this office, he found Miss Jane Bennetto often bequitelacking. She had, as he had predicted,been extendedan invitation to stay by Bingley when she had arrived to care for her cousin.That Miss Bennet could more often be found in the company ofhisfriend rather than in thesick roomwith her cousin, Darcy could not approve of.Her responses, when asked after Miss Braxton, were always vague and often something along the lines of ‘Oh,she’smuch better, but of course not nearly well enough to be moved.’

Bingley would then, without fail, loudlyagree,thatnaturallyMiss Braxton must not be moved. Indeed, he would not hear of her leaving Netherfield until he saw her, with his own two eyes, hale and hearty and walking on her own two feet.

A very prettysentiment, and Darcy would have admired his friend for his hospitality were it not glaringlyobviousto anyone with half a wit thatBingley’sinsistence had less to do with concern for MissBraxton’swell-being and more to do with courting her pretty cousin.

Darcy himself would have taken more offence at thepair’sinsensibility were it not for the fact that while Miss Bennet could not devote herself to MissBraxton’scare, there was one person in residence who seemed to have made it theirlife’smission to see their mistress restored to health.

He found he received much better and more detailed reports on MissBraxton’simproving constitution when he tasked his valet to approach her personal maid for information. She still suffered with bouts offever,and oft found herself too weak to walk about even the perimeters of her room, but Miss Braxton, it would seem, was not made for ill humour and could not tolerate a pessimistic mindset. Thus, she had determined to drive away her illness as quickly as possible out of sheer obstinacy and was taking her bitter tonics and bland soups diligently despite having a sore throat and little appetite.

Today, he hadbeen informedby Alfred that Hala would, on hermistress’insistence, help her into a morning dress and relocate to the sitting room attached to her bedroom. A change in location was desperately needed, for Miss Braxton could not bear to remain in bed for one moreday,and yet was not strong enough to come downstairs, much less walk in the gardens.

Darcy had, despite himself, bid Alfred to speak to MissBraxton’sabigail and ask her if her mistress would be opposed to company. The surprise his valet had momentarily failed to hide had had him feeling more than a little foolish, and yet, when Alfred came back to him some ten or so minutes later, informing him that Miss Braxton found the idea of his company to be not at all objectionable, and that she was indeedquiteaching for human interaction that did not come in the form of her well-meaning but incredibly dictatorial nursemaid, he found he could not regret it.

Darcy had spent the morning grooming and spoiling his horse fora good half-hour.Titan was a temperamentalcreature,and would only ever allow select people to handle him. Bingley liked to call him an uncontrollable beast, foroncehis sister had tried to feed the Arabian thoroughbred an apple, only for the horse to have nearly bit her nose off. Darcy thought it much more likely that Titan was onlyan exceptionally goodjudge of character. He had been walking out of the stables when he saw Mr.Jones’old and worn gig coming up the Netherfield Drive. Walking over with some purpose, he greeted the man as the apothecary handed the reins of his cart to one of the stablehands,and offered to escort him to his patient.

Over the last couple of days, Darcy had found Mr. Jones to be a very competent medical worker, especially considering the man was only an apothecary.It was not uncommon for quacks and frauds to settle in smaller villages and market townslikeMeryton and open their shops, advertising themselves as herbalists or chemists.But from having conversed with Mr. Jones quite extensively since he started visiting his patient at Netherfield, Darcy had concluded him to be an intelligent and sensible man who possessed a thorough knowledge of poultices, tonics and restoratives.

Darcy led him into the house, informing Bingley of hisarrival,and showed him up to the first floor where Miss Braxton resided in her sitting room. Knocking on the door, he was unsurprised when it was Hala who answered and not Miss Bennet. She curtsied when she saw the gentlemen, and bid them enter. Mr. Jones walked into the room, and Darcy had been about to follow right after him, for he was anxious to see for himself the state of MissBraxton’shealth after having to content himself with hisvalet’sassurances for two days, but then stopped at the threshold.

Looking down at his attire, he grimaced. Not only had he not bothered with a cravat, deeming it unnecessary so early in the morning, he was also very muddy and smelled quite potently of horse . While not a fop by any definition of the word, Darcy thought it only sensible that he not appear in front of a pretty woman looking like a ruffian. Taking another step back further into the hallway, he made his excuses and instead strode on further down the corridor to his own room, slamming the door open and calling for his valet,

“Ready a bath, Alfred! Quick as you can.”

Alfred, coming out of the connecting dressing room, did not blink an eye at hismaster’sill-concealed impatience,

“Abath has already been prepared next door,Sir. Would you like me to press the brown waistcoat for the occasion or the grey?”

Darcy paused in the unbuttoning of his shirt, narrowing his eyes at his valet. There was something in the tone of his voice that he did not like,“The grey.”

“Afine choice, indeed. It does bring out the colour of your eyes quite well, if I do say so myself,sir.”

Darcy stared at his manservant disconcertingly, for never before had he commented on the colour of hismaster’seyes, and his master preferred it that way,“You may not, Alfred. Now,help me out of these dirty boots.By Jove, I am not fit to be seen!”

After Darcy had soaked, bathed and dried himself, Alfred entered the dressing room with his attire for the day and a selection of cravats.Darcy had never been the type to own ties in a multitude of bright colours and prints that the Beau Brummels of Londoncouldoftenbe seenflaunting.Blacks, whites and an occasional grey were the only colours one could find him wearing around his collar. On this day, he paired the grey waistcoathe’dchosen with asilk whitenecktie and found himself uncharacteristically fidgeting as his valet dressed him,

“Will the ballroom do, sir?”Alfred asked nonchalantly, the neckcloth looped around hismaster’sstarched collar and ready to be styled. Darcy shot him a disgruntled look,

“The barrel will be more than sufficient, Alfred.”

“A barrel knot ?”Alfred asked his master with an affronted scowl on his face, as if it was not the way Darcy styled his cravat every single day,“Come now,sir! On such an occasion as this, how can I , with my dignity and pride as Master FitzwilliamDarcy'sgentleman, dress you in anything less spectacular than a waterfall ?”

“Do you wish to muck the stables till sundown, Alfred?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Then you will satisfy yourself with the barrel .”Darcy huffed, then, recalling what his valet had said, blinked,“What did you mean by‘occasion’?There is no occasion. I am merely visiting an ailing acquaintance.”

Alfred smiled disingenuously,“As you say, sir.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes at his servant through the looking glass in front of which he stood,“Do you know? I think you are becoming a little too comfortable in your position. Perhaps I ought to look for another valet. Someone with less of a wit.”

The threat was received with just as much seriousness asit was conveyed,“I shall start looking for men for you to interview as soon as we settle in Town, sir.”

Darcy rolled his eyes,“Just bring me my boots, Alfred.”

It had taken almost an hour for Elizabeth to convince Hala that she was well enough to leave the sickbed. While her strength still flagged at the most inopportune moments, Lizzy had found, after almost two whole days of bed rest, that she could not countenance staying another moment inside the four walls of her temporary bedchamber. She had begged, cajoled, and bribed Hala to help her transfer herself outside in the sun, and inthe end, all she had managed was to negotiate a move to the sitting room next door, which had a large bay window anda very prettyview of the winter garden filled with snowdrops, primroses, and pansies.

She had relented, of course, for if there was a person more stubborn than herself, it was Hala. And thus, it was that as soon as she awoke on her third day at Netherfield, she was stuffed in the peach morning dress she had almost drowned in (now dried and pressed to perfection, naturally), was bundled in a multitude of shawls and quilts, and settled onto the divan placed under the bay window next door. The flora certainly did help raise her spirits, but itwas more the promise of new company that had Elizabeth brimming with anticipation.

Mr. Darcy had asked if he could visit.

Since the moment she had regained her senses, Elizabeth had wanted to thank him. She could not quite remember if she had adequately expressed her gratitude on the day he had rescued her. After all, the man had, most assuredly, saved her life! That he had not only dived in after her when she fell into the lake, but also carried her all the way to Netherfield when it became apparent that she had not the strength to bear her ownweight,showed what kind of a man he was. And if Hala was tobe believed, he had not considered his duty complete with just having deposited her to safety. Multiple times a day since she had first taken to bed, Mr.Darcy’svalet had approached her own abigail for reports on her improvement. No man, outside of her own family, had ever cared for her to such a degree.

Elizabeth found herself becoming discomposed at just the thought of him.

It certainly did not help that whenever she did think about him, all she could remember were his soaked shirt sleeves clinging to his muscular arms or the feel of hisridiculously broadand firm chest under her cheek. Despite her near unconscious state during the time that he had carried her in his arms, she could recall, with almost too much clarity and sharpness, the warmth of his damp skin and the clean, sandalwood scent of his soap mixed with traditional cologne.

“Miss Lizzy?” Hala asked, suddenly appearing in front of her, “Is the room too warm? Your face is very red.”

Elizabeth’scheeks flushed further, and embarrassed at her own thoughts, she buried her face in the quilts that well-nigh swallowed her,“I am well.”She mumbled half-incoherently, her voice coming out a bit muffled.

Mala looked at her mistress uncertainly, but before she could question her further, a knock on the door to the sitting room interrupted her. She opened the door to see Mr. Darcy had escorted Mr. Jones to check in on the patient. Hala opened the door wider, allowing the apothecary to enter,

“Miss Braxton.”Mr. Jones smiled, happy to see his patient out ofthe sickbed even if the younglady'scomplexion was still a tad toopeakedfor his liking,“How are you feeling?”

Elizabeth made a face,“Well enough to at least take a turn of the room by myself, even if some people refuse to believe me.”Here, she gave her maid a very pointed,veryexasperated lookwhichthe young woman pretendedtonotsee, busying herself with sorting all the little vials of tonics and restoratives sitting on the occasional table that the patient had accumulatedinthe last couple of days.

Mr. Jones stifled an amused smile, for it was quite a rare sight to witness staff being treated so casually, especially amongst the gentry.

“Hala has been taking very good care of you indeed, Miss Braxton. Your condition is improving much faster than I had first predicted.”

Elizabeth smiled,“Oh yes, my Hala is a veritable mother hen. There is no one in the world who knows me better, you see. And so, it is only natural that she be the best nurse I could ask for. Still, I have been cooped up indoors for almost two whole days now, and I swear that if I do not at least complain to someone of my forced confinement, I might very well end up in Bedlam in the very near future.”

Mr. Jones chuckled. In the last few years since Miss Braxton started visiting her extended family in Hertfordshire, he had not had enough opportunities to talk with and get to know her in any significant way, but hehad interacted with her enough to come to admire her charm and her ability to laugh at both the world and herself. Even now, it was evident that her spirit was as indomitable as always, and he was glad to see it unwithered despite her ailment.

“Well then, let us begin our check-up. Can you open up your mouth for me, Miss Braxton?”

Mr. Jones was glad to see that the inflammation of the young lady's tonsils had gone down significantly. He placed a hand on her forehead, frowning at the unnatural warmth,

“How does your head feel?”He asked,

Elizabeth sighed,“‘Tisa little heavy, but it has much improved since yesterday.”

“Iam glad to hear it, but you still have a slight fever. Have Hala make you some more of that willow bark tea, and if at all possible, you must take a hot bath this afternoon.”

“Iwill see that she does both, sir.”Hala said even as Elizabeth made a rather ridiculous face at the idea of more bitter willow bark.

“Sit up for me, Miss Braxton.”Mr. Jones requested, and Elizabeth complied as best as she could. Gently loosening the cocoon of shawls around her, the apothecary placed a hand on her back,“Take in a deep breath. As slowly as you can.”

Elizabeth did.Her lungs hurt at the action, and she felt asort ofrattling in them that unnerved her.Mr. Jones frowned, hmm -ing quietly, shifting his hand on another part of her back and asking her to take another breath.

Just as Elizabeth had complied, another knock on the doorhadMr. Jones momentarilypausinghis examination.Hala opened the door and led Mr. Darcy, whoofcourse,looked as outrageously handsome as he always did, into the room. As soon as he was within reach, she extended ahand,and tried not to look as flustered as she felt when he gallantly bowed over it,

“Miss Braxton. I amvery gladto see you looking so well.”

“Do I?”Elizabeth asked, unable to stop herself from teasing whenever she was in his company,“When I asked Hala this morning how I looked, my maid did not fail to inform me that I was only perhaps a couple of shades away from resembling The Grey Lady that haunts The Royal Theatre in Bath.”Elizabeth narrowed her eyes playfully at Mr. Darcy even as Mr. Jones shifted a little to stand next to her, taking a wrist and pulling out a fob watch to count her pulse,“Are you trying to gain my approbation, sir, with your pretty words and their empty flattery?”

Elizabeth watched as, perhaps for the first time in their acquaintance, Mr. Darcy grinned.He had a charmingly boyish smile, full lipsstretchingenoughthata dimpleappearedon his right cheek, a row of perfectly white teeth glinting under the weak winter daylight-though she did notice that one of his teeth was just slightly crooked. Even this little bit of imperfection Elizabeth found unexpectedly endearing, and the whole overall effect of this rare expression of delight on his face was such that she felt her heart skip abeat,and then start racing in her chest.

Mr. Jones looked up from his watch when the pulse he was counting on hispatient'swrist suddenly sped up alarmingly. Before he could even start to worry, however, he took in the couple staring at each other in front of him.However pale Miss Braxton may have looked before Mr. Darcy walked into the sittingroom;her cheeks were a blushing pinknow.Mr. Darcy himself seemed entranced by the youthful beauty in front of himandJones shook his head at the pair of them, straightening up with a sigh.

He cleared his throat,“You still have some infection in your lungs yet, Miss Braxton.I'mafraid you are in no condition to be doing anything more strenuous than reading a thrilling novel.Ishallleave a salve with you that you must apply to your chest beforeyousleep.It shall help with the opening of thelungs,and will hopefully assist you to breathe better.”Mr. Jones announced, then did as he said.Leaving the salve with Halawitha set of instructions on how and how often to apply the ointment,hetook his leave, promising tocomethe next day to check on hispatient'sprogress.

Keeping the door behind him open forpropriety'ssake, Mr. Jones looked over his shoulder at the occupants in the room one more time. Mr. Darcy had taken a seat next to Miss Braxton on the divan and was speaking to her in deep, hushed tones. Miss Braxton was gazing back at him with her exquisite eyes, a kindly and indulgent expression shining in them. The weak winter sun shone behind the couple, creating an almost halo-like effectandJones pressed his lips together at the sight of them. A handsomer pair he had not seen.

Though never much for gossip himself, he, nonetheless, could not help but think that there was some credence to the tales that were floating around town about the couple he was leaving behind.