Page 40 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE IMPROPER OFFER
Darcy stood before the mirror, adjusting his cravat with fastidious care. His valet hovered nearby, clearly puzzled by his master’s insistence on formal evening attire for what would be a small family dinner at Bellfield Grange.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” the man asked, brushing an invisible speck from Darcy’s shoulder.
“No, that will be all.” Darcy dismissed him with a nod, studying his reflection with critical eyes.
His reflection appeared tolerably civilized—the pallor of illness had faded, his eyes had regained their customary clarity, and his valet had managed to restore some semblance of order to his person.
Yet beneath this veneer of respectability lurked a profound unease that no amount of careful grooming could address.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet had nursed him through his illness. Alone. In his private chambers. For the better part of three days and nights.
How could Aunt Eleanor have allowed such impropriety?
A lady—regardless of her compromised circumstances—attending to a gentleman in such intimate conditions represented precisely the sort of scandal that destroyed reputations and necessitated hasty marriages or social exile.
His memories of the illness remained fragmented—disconnected images, sensations, and words that refused to form a coherent narrative. Dr. Harrison assured him this was to be expected, that fever often produced delirium with no basis in reality.
Yet certain impressions persisted. The cool touch of a hand against his brow. A voice murmuring words of comfort when terror seized him. The scent of lavender and rosemary that had somehow kept him tethered to the world when darkness threatened to claim him.
Elizabeth Bennet. A woman who never left his thoughts by day and dreams by night.
That he had been unconscious throughout most of the ordeal provided no mitigation whatsoever.
If anything, his helpless state made the situation more damning, not less.
The intimacy of a sickroom, the necessary physical ministrations, the hours spent alone with a man not her husband—these were breaches of propriety that would have scandalized society had they occurred in London rather than in the rural seclusion of Yorkshire.
Darcy had questioned his aunt extensively about the circumstances, learning that Dr. Harrison had been attending multiple storm victims and could not spare a nurse.
Miss Bennet apparently had experience tending to her father’s frequent indispositions and had volunteered her services.
All perfectly reasonable explanations that did nothing to diminish his sense of having perpetrated an unconscionable violation of propriety.
“She saved your life,” Lady Eleanor had informed him with characteristic directness. “Her competence likely prevented more serious complications.”
Hence tonight’s dinner. A formal, proper setting in which to address the delicate matter of compensation.
The small dining room had been prepared according to his specifications.
Candles rather than lamps, the best silver, wine already breathing in crystal decanters.
The intimate setting would permit private conversation while the presence of servants ensured propriety.
Miss Bennet would be able to speak freely without fear of embarrassment before a larger audience.
“Brother!” Georgiana’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she entered his chambers without ceremony. “You requested dinner in the small dining room with Miss Elizabeth?”
“I did,” he confirmed, turning from the mirror. “There is a matter of some importance I wish to discuss with her.”
Georgiana’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What manner of matter?”
“That is between Miss Bennet and myself,” he replied, uncomfortable with his sister’s uncharacteristic directness. She had changed during his absence, developing an assertiveness that occasionally startled him.
“She has requested my presence,” Georgiana announced, watching his reaction closely. “She feels it would be improper to dine alone with you.”
Irritation flashed through him. “Does she indeed? After spending three days in my bedchamber, she suddenly develops scruples about propriety?”
The words escaped before he could check them, and he immediately regretted their petulance. Georgiana’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise at his uncharacteristic display of pique.
“I apologize,” he said stiffly. “That was ungentlemanly of me.”
“She saved your life, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana said quietly. “Dr. Harrison said your seizure could have been fatal without her immediate intervention.”
“So I’ve already been told.” He checked the tightness of his cravat. “Then I am doubly obligated to express my gratitude. And my concern for how her reputation might suffer from such intimate association with a gentleman not her husband.”
Georgiana made a strange sound—half laugh, half distressed exclamation. “You needn’t worry about that. Aunt Eleanor has ensured the household’s discretion. ”
“Nevertheless, there are proper ways to address such situations.” Darcy straightened his already impeccable cuffs. “If Miss Bennet wishes for your presence, then of course you must join us.”
Georgiana studied him with an intensity that made him inexplicably nervous. “What exactly do you intend to discuss with Elizabeth?”
The use of Miss Bennet’s Christian name startled him, another sign of the unexpected intimacy that had developed between his sister and the fallen gentlewoman.
“Merely a matter of proper acknowledgment,” he replied carefully. “For services rendered during my illness.”
“Services rendered,” Georgiana repeated the words flatly. “You speak as if she were hired help rather than a gentlewoman who risked her health to save yours.”
“I am well aware of Miss Bennet’s birth and breeding,” Darcy said, his patience wearing thin. “Which is precisely why I wish to address the matter in a manner befitting her station, reduced though it may be by circumstance.”
Georgiana’s eyes flashed with an emotion he could not interpret. “You truly believe you understand her circumstances?”
“I understand enough,” he replied, wondering at his sister’s unusual vehemence. “Now, shall we proceed to dinner? It would be discourteous to keep Miss Bennet waiting.”
Georgiana looked as if she wished to say more, but merely nodded, allowing him to escort her from the room. As they walked the corridor toward the small dining room, Darcy noticed his sister’s hands were clenched tightly at her sides, her posture rigid with some unspoken tension.
Elizabeth’s circumstances rendered her ineligible for honorable courtship by any gentleman of his standing.
Her reputation, her lack of fortune, her illegitimate child—all conspired to place her beyond the pale of respectable society.
That she possessed intelligence, wit, and beauty in abundance only made the situation more poignant, not more acceptable .
A gentleman might admire such qualities, even feel drawn to them, but he could not act upon such feelings without compromising his honor and her remaining respectability.
The most he could offer was protection, assistance, and the assurance that her temporary association with him would result in no further damage to her circumstances.
The small dining room glowed with candlelight, the table set for three rather than the intimate pair he had envisioned.
Elizabeth stood at the window, her back to the door, silhouetted against the deepening twilight beyond.
Darcy’s carefully prepared composure wavered at the sight of her.
She had obviously taken considerable care with her appearance, wearing a dinner dress of deep blue silk that complemented her coloring admirably.
Her dark hair had been arranged with unusual elegance, and she carried herself with that particular combination of pride and caution he had come to associate with her character.
She turned at their entrance, her expression carefully composed save for the wariness in her fine eyes.
“Mr. Darcy,” she acknowledged with a small curtsy. “I trust you are feeling fully recovered?”
“Quite recovered, thank you,” he replied, bowing formally. “Thanks in no small part to your attentive care, for which I am most grateful.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“I think not,” Darcy contradicted. “Few would demonstrate such competence and dedication, particularly given the unusual circumstances.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrow arched slightly at this. “Unusual circumstances?”
“He means that most ladies would not nurse a gentleman to whom they are not related,” Georgiana supplied helpfully, taking her seat at the table.
“Ah.” Elizabeth’s lips curved in a thin smile as the footman helped her to be seated. “Most ladies have not had the privilege of tending Mr. Bennet through his frequent indispositions. One develops a certain practicality after the third or fourth attack of gout.”
The meal began with soup, served by a footman who performed his duties with efficient discretion. Darcy found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied, the carefully prepared speech he had rehearsed suddenly seeming inadequate in the face of Elizabeth’s quiet dignity.
“You’ve arranged a very formal dinner, Mr. Darcy,” she observed during a lull in Georgiana’s attempts at conversation. “One might almost think you had something significant to discuss.”
Her directness startled a reluctant smile from him. “You are perceptive as always, Miss Bennet.”
“A necessary quality when one’s circumstances are reduced,” she replied lightly. “One must be alert to the subtle shifts in one’s position.”
The veiled reference to her fall from respectable society created the perfect opening for the topic he wished to address. Yet now that the moment had arrived, Darcy found himself hesitating, conscious of Georgiana’s attentive presence.