Page 15 of Mr. Darcy’s Honor (Darcy and Elizabeth Forever: Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

MEASURED DISGRACE

Elizabeth supposed there were worse ways of waking up than pressed against Fitzwilliam Darcy’s bare chest, lulled to sleep by his thundering heartbeat.

She supposed she could have drooled, and maybe she did.

She leaned against the closed door of her bedchamber and tried to calm her galloping heart. What must he think of her?

She had fallen asleep on his chest.

Not merely near him, not simply in a chair beside his bed, but sprawled across his person like…

Elizabeth groaned aloud, pushing away from the door on unsteady legs. There was no comparison, no precedent for such impropriety. She had slept with her cheek pressed against his bare skin, her hand curled beside her face, her body half-draped across his as though they were…

No, she would not complete that thought.

Worse than the position was the moment of awakening.

When she’d opened her eyes to find him watching her, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

His dark eyes had met hers, and neither had pulled away.

Correction, he was an invalid. And she, like a lost lamb, had stared into those deep, dark eyes and had lost all her words.

The moment had stretched, like spun silk, and she hadn’t been able to pull away, not until he very painfully and stiffly removed his arm.

She couldn’t bear to imagine what he thought.

Elizabeth pushed away from the door and crossed to a small mirror above the dressing table, wincing at her reflection.

She looked like a madwoman. Her hair had escaped its pins entirely, tumbling in a wild disarray around her shoulders.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes, stark against the pallor of her skin.

And there, on her cheek, was a faint red mark where she had pressed against… his body.

If she was disgraced before, she was doubly, no triply so now. Beyond ruined. No longer a lady. Destined to be hidden in the attics or serving in hospital wards.

A duty she had chosen, she reminded herself as she dipped her hands into a wash basin. A bargain she had struck willingly to protect her sisters’ futures.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Elizabeth?” Jane’s gentle voice called. “Are you awake?”

Elizabeth smoothed her hands over her crumpled dress—a useless gesture given the state of her appearance. “Come in, Jane.”

Jane was fresh-faced and lovely in a pale blue morning dress. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was pinned neatly. She set down a bundle of clothing and crossed to Elizabeth’s side.

“I’ve brought you fresh things. Mama sent a morning dress and clean linen. You look exhausted. Was Mr. Darcy’s night very difficult?”

“His fever broke near dawn,” Elizabeth replied. “He has just woken.”

Jane studied her sister’s face intently. “Then why do you look so distressed? Has something else occurred?”

Elizabeth turned away, busying herself with examining the clean dress Jane had brought—her own blue morning dress, not Caroline’s servant’s garb. “I may have… that is to say… I fell asleep in a rather compromising position.”

“Oh? Where?”

“On Mr. Darcy’s chest,” Elizabeth admitted, the words rushing out. “I was monitoring his breathing after the fever broke, and exhaustion must have overcome me. When I woke, he was… awake. Watching me.”

She waited for Jane’s shock, her disapproval, her concern for propriety. Instead, her sister merely helped her unfasten the brown dress.

“You were exhausted,” Jane said reasonably. “It is hardly surprising that you succumbed to sleep wherever you happened to be.”

“But Jane,” Elizabeth protested, stepping out of the despised brown dress with relief, “it was entirely improper. The man found me sleeping against his person like some wanton creature.”

“Did he seem angry? Offended?”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted. “He seemed… I don’t know. Confused, perhaps. Or…” She trailed off, unwilling to name the tenderness she thought she had glimpsed. “It doesn’t matter. The situation was entirely improper, regardless of his reaction.”

“It seems to me,” Jane said gently, “that nothing about this situation has been proper from the beginning. Propriety was sacrificed the moment Father placed you in that role.”

Elizabeth had not considered it from that perspective. “I suppose that’s true. There is something else. Something I cannot quite explain.”

Jane waited patiently, her expression encouraging.

“When our eyes met, it felt as though… as though something had changed between us. Not forgiveness, exactly. Not understanding. But some kind of…” She shook her head, frustrated by her inability to articulate the sensation.

“Recognition, perhaps? As though we were seeing each other clearly for the first time.”

A small smile curved Jane’s lips. “Perhaps you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have spent a night fighting for his life, Lizzy.” Jane helped Elizabeth into her blue dress. “Tending to him at his most vulnerable. And he has awakened to find you sacrificing your comfort for his survival. That would change anyone’s perspective, would it not?”

Elizabeth considered this. It was true that she had seen a different side of Darcy during his illness—not the proud, disdainful gentleman who had so offended her at Hunsford, but a man struggling against pain and fighting for his life. She had witnessed his vulnerability in ways few others had.

And he, in turn, had seen her at her least guarded—exhausted, disheveled, stripped of all pretense and social armor.

Elizabeth sighed as she adjusted her dress, grateful for its familiar comfort after the coarse servant’s garb. “I suppose you’re right. Though I cannot help but wonder what Mr. Darcy must think of me now.”

“I imagine he thinks you are extremely dedicated,” Jane said with a gentle smile.

Elizabeth laughed shortly. “Or that I have confirmed his worst suspicions about the impropriety of country manners.”

As Jane helped pin her hair into a simple but neat style, Elizabeth thought of Darcy’s words at Hunsford when she had so proudly declared she had never sought his good opinion. How circumstances had changed. Now, having lost his good opinion, she found herself oddly determined to regain it.

Not because she cared for him. Merely because she could not bear the thought of anyone—even Fitzwilliam Darcy—believing her to be without principle or dignity.

“How is everyone at Longbourn?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

“As well as can be expected,” Jane replied. “Papa has retreated to his library, Mary quotes Scripture about tribulation strengthening character, and Kitty and Lydia find the entire situation tremendously romantic.”

“Romantic,” Elizabeth repeated with a short laugh. “Yes, I suppose nursing a wounded gentleman through fever is the height of romance.”

“Charles has been very kind,” Jane said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “He calls at Longbourn daily, despite Caroline’s obvious disapproval.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the casual use of Bingley’s Christian name but chose not to comment. “Mr. Bingley proves himself a true friend to our family. I am glad for it—and for you, Jane.”

“I believe this situation has brought Charles and me closer together,” Jane admitted, her blush deepening. “He has stood by me—by our family—when many others have withdrawn their society.”

“Then perhaps some good has come of this disaster,” Elizabeth said, genuinely pleased for her sister. She linked her arm through Jane’s as they moved toward the door. “Now, shall we brave the breakfast room? I’m certain Miss Bingley is eager to inquire after my night with her beloved Mr. Darcy.”

As they made their way downstairs, Elizabeth braced herself for the inevitable confrontation with Miss Bingley. She had not eaten since yesterday afternoon, yet the prospect of facing Caroline’s malicious insinuations made food seem entirely unappealing.

“Do you know what has become of Lieutenant Wickham?” she asked Jane.

“He fled immediately after the duel. Colonel Forster sent men to search for him, but he seems to have disappeared entirely. They found his uniform abandoned at his lodgings, but no sign of the man himself.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of relief that Wickham was gone, mixed with frustration that he had once again escaped the consequences of his actions. “So he remains free to cause mischief elsewhere. How perfectly in character.”

The breakfast room was mercifully empty. Elizabeth helped herself to tea and toast, determined to fortify herself before the Bingley siblings appeared.

Their respite was brief. Caroline Bingley soon entered, immaculate in a morning dress of pale yellow muslin that made Elizabeth’s simple blue gown seem positively dowdy by comparison.

“Miss Eliza,” Caroline greeted her with a cutting smile. “How refreshed you look after your vigil. I trust Mr. Darcy passed a comfortable night?”

Elizabeth matched her smile with equal insincerity. “As comfortable as one might expect when recovering from a bullet wound, Miss Bingley. The fever broke near dawn.”

“How fortunate that you were there to witness it,” Caroline said, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Such intimate moments are rarely shared between unmarried persons.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed pleasantly. “Though I believe doctors and nurses frequently observe such medical milestones without romantic implications. Perhaps your experience differs?”

Caroline’s smile faltered briefly. “I merely observe that your position is rather unique. To be alone with a gentleman in such a state of undress would normally be cause for scandal.”

“How fortunate, then, that scandal appears to be my natural habitat these days,” Elizabeth replied. “One might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, don’t you agree?”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder what Mr. Darcy thinks about this unusual arrangement?”

Elizabeth shrugged as she spread jam on her toast, but did not give her the pleasure of a reply.

Bingley entered the breakfast room, his face brightening at the sight of Jane. “Miss Bennet! I had not expected the pleasure of your company this morning.”

“I brought fresh clothing for Lizzy,” Jane explained, her cheeks coloring prettily.

“A welcome kindness, I’m sure,” Bingley said, his gaze lingering on Jane before turning to Elizabeth. “And how is our patient this morning?”

“His fever has broken, though he remains weak, as one would expect.”

“Excellent news,” Bingley said, seeming genuinely relieved. He hesitated, then added, “I’ve been thinking, Miss Elizabeth. This situation places an extraordinary burden on you. I would be happy to engage a professional nurse for Mr. Darcy if you wish to return to Longbourn.”

Caroline’s eyes lit with sudden interest. “What an excellent suggestion, Charles! A professional nurse would be most appropriate for someone of Mr. Darcy’s standing.” She smiled thinly at Elizabeth. “And it would allow poor Miss Eliza to return to her family, who must be missing her terribly.”

“I could, of course, oversee the nurse’s work,” Caroline added. “Having known Mr. Darcy for so many years, I am familiar with his preferences and could ensure his comfort is properly attended to.”

“That is thoughtful, Caroline,” Bingley replied, though his expression suggested otherwise. “However, any nurse would report directly to Mr. Johnson.”

“I assume your footmen are sufficient to attend to Mr. Darcy’s needs,” Caroline argued. “I fail to see the necessity for Miss Elizabeth’s presence.”

“Footmen have other duties to attend to,” Bingley explained. “They cannot spend hours monitoring fever, changing bandages, and administering medications. I only mean to relieve Miss Elizabeth of such duties.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. That is most considerate.” Elizabeth considered his offer of a professional nurse carefully. It was tempting to escape from Caroline’s venom, the servants’ curious stares, and the constant proximity to Darcy himself. And yet…

How would she ever regain Darcy’s good opinion if she abandoned her duty at the first opportunity? He would see it as further evidence of her inconstancy and lack of principle. The thought was surprisingly intolerable.

“Then it’s done,” Caroline said. “Miss Elizabeth, we must show our gratitude for you filling in for a professional nurse. It must have been quite tedious for a lively young woman such as yourself.”

“It was quite engaging,” Elizabeth said, taking a slow sip of tea.

“Mr. Darcy is surprisingly tolerable company when he’s unable to speak.

But in all seriousness, I believe Mr. Darcy should have some say in who tends to him during his recovery.

It seems only fair, as he is the one who must endure the attention. ”

“Discuss with Mr. Darcy?” Caroline repeated, her voice rising. “My dear Miss Eliza, surely you don’t intend to trouble a gentleman in his weakened state with such trivial matters?”

“On the contrary, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “I believe Mr. Darcy would prefer to have some say in who attends to his care, especially given the unusual circumstances.”

Caroline’s face flushed an unbecoming shade of crimson. “I never—that is to say?—”

“More tea, Miss Bingley?” Elizabeth offered sweetly. “You seem somewhat… overwrought this morning.”

The door opened to admit Mr. Johnson. He nodded to the assembled company before addressing Bingley directly.

“Mr. Darcy has weathered the night well. The immediate danger has passed, but his recovery is far from complete.”

“Then he will recover?” Bingley asked hopefully.

“With continued vigilance, yes,” the surgeon replied. “Though I must emphasize that several days of attentive care still lie ahead before we can be certain.”

“And his strength?” Elizabeth asked, unable to contain her concern.

“Considerably depleted, but Mr. Darcy possesses a robust constitution. I have every confidence in his recovery—provided his care remains consistent.”

“That is excellent news,” Caroline declared. “Perhaps now Miss Eliza can return to Longbourn, and we can engage a proper nurse for dear Mr. Darcy.”

The surgeon frowned slightly. “I would not recommend changing his care at this juncture. Miss Bennet has demonstrated admirable skill during the critical hours.” Turning to Elizabeth, he added, “Mr. Darcy has specifically asked to speak with you.”

Elizabeth rose smoothly from the table, casting a brief glance at Caroline, whose lips had thinned to near invisibility.

“I shall attend to him directly,” she said. “Jane, will you be returning to Longbourn soon?”

“I must, but I shall visit again tomorrow if I may, Mr. Bingley?”

“You are always welcome at Netherfield,” Bingley assured her warmly. “At any time.”

Elizabeth embraced her sister before she departed. “Give my love to everyone at Longbourn,” she said. “And tell Mama that Mr. Darcy’s condition is improving, but not to expect any unusual developments.”