Page 15 of Penned by Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #3)

Darcy

T he following morning, Darcy made a deliberate effort to rise before the rest of the household.

He ordered his horse saddled before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, determined to take refuge in motion, in cold air and open fields.

He would go anywhere if it meant being free of the suffocating walls of Netherfield.

He anticipated that Miss Bennet would finally depart from the house today. Her fever had broken, or so he had heard from the physician the day before. With her recovery would come Miss Elizabeth’s removal from this house and, with it, the restoration of his peace and sanity.

He did not wish Miss Bennet harm. Heaven forbid!

She was a pleasant young lady who deserved nothing but good health.

However, the longer she remained abed at Netherfield, the longer he had to suffer her sister’s relentless presence.

Miss Elizabeth haunted the very atmosphere, lingering like perfume in the corridors, as though the very house had begun to expect her in every room.

He was constantly aware of her - not by sound or sight, but by the strange, breathless anticipation that struck him whenever a door creaked or a footfall sounded beyond his own.

She had scarcely left her sister’s side since her family had called upon them.

Her family! So loud and uncontrolled, the younger girls leaping around like wild animals.

After their departure, Miss Elizabeth had not come down to dinner, instead requesting a tray for both her and her sister.

Whilst Bingley had been thrilled that Miss Bennet at last had an appetite, Darcy found himself resenting the fact, for it meant Miss Elizabeth was not there.

He had missed her. Bitterly.

He had passed the night in his room, pouring restless energy into his diary, as though the act of writing might drain this unbearable fixation from his veins.

But the words only hardened on the page like confession and punishment both, each line betraying more than he dared admit aloud.

He had stopped only when the ink began to blur with fatigue, his thoughts circling like vultures over the same doomed terrain.

Now, as he rode, the winter air burning in his lungs, he tried to summon reason.

He thought of Georgiana, of his estate, of the obligation and stature to which he was bound.

But each time he attempted to fix his thoughts, they wandered back to her: Elizabeth, with her arched brows and quick retorts, her unguarded moments of concern, the way her hand had brushed his in the candlelight.

He urged the horse forward, faster, as if he could outpace the thought of her.

As if he hadn’t carried her image with him the moment he left the stables.

The countryside around him was a blur, flashes of green and brown racing past as he set a punishing pace.

It was only when Netherfield was out of sight, when there was nothing as far as the eye could see save for fields and trees, that he began to slow.

He led his horse to a stream, watching as the mare drank her fill.

He did not know what to do with himself, where to go.

He wanted to leave here, to return to Pemberley and his sister, but at the same time, he could not tear himself away.

Darcy could not deny that some small part of him hoped to see Miss Elizabeth around every corner, and even now he hoped that she would somehow appear in this empty field and stand beside him.

Such foolish infatuation he had never known.

When he returned to Netherfield just after nine, he saw a small crowd gathered on the driveway by the main steps. He dismounted his horse, leading the animal closer before passing off the reigns to a waiting footman.

“Ah, there you are, Darcy!” Bingley called. “The Bennets are departing.”

He felt his heart dropped; so soon?! What was the hurry, to leave so early in the morning? He walked over, and was pleased (and aggrieved) to see Miss Bennet smartly dressed, a hint of pink returned to her cheeks as she dropped in a curtsey.

“Good morning, Mr Darcy.”

He bowed in return.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet. I am pleased that you have made a good recovery.”

“Thank you. It is down to the kindness of everyone here, of course. Such hospitality no doubt aided me immensely.”

“And the devoted care of Miss Elizabeth,” he added.

His gaze darted towards her, and he was pleased to see she smiled prettily at his compliment.

“You are sure you are well enough to leave us?” Bingley asked, his brows knitted in concern. “Really, Miss Bennet, there is no hurry.”

“It is very kind of you, but I must continue my recovery at home, lest I cause my mother unbearable worry. I hope to see you all again soon, in better circumstances.”

“Indeed – I cannot imagine that there are many worse circumstances,” Caroline said with a tight smile. “Do take care.”

Miss Elizabeth stepped forward, her sister naturally falling behind her.

If one did not know the Bennets, it would be easy to assume that Miss Elizabeth was the elder, for she commanded her sister with ease.

Perhaps it was simply the contrast of their natures that brought about the imbalance.

Miss Elizabeth seemed to command all those around her with ease.

Caroline straightened herself a little, for even though she would never admit it, she always seemed to be intimidated by ‘Miss Eliza’, for he was one of the only women who did not shrink herself down in Caroline’s overbearing presence.

“Thank you for the stimulating company,” Miss Elizabeth said, nodding her head. “I do not know what I would have done without it.”

Caroline and Mrs Hurst both curtsied to the departing women, before making their excuses to return inside and out of the cold air, leaving only Darcy and Bingley to see the pair safely away.

“Well then,” Miss Elizabeth said after a moment of silence had passed. “We had best be off.”

With the briefest of curtsies, Miss Elizabeth walked to the carriage.

Darcy longed to accompany her, but propriety dictated that he must say goodbye to Miss Bennet first. It would not to do to be seen as singling out one sister to accompany, whilst the other lingered behind.

The crunch of Miss Elizabeth’s footsteps was audible, each step removing her from him.

“Thank you, Mr Bingley, for everything. And Mr Darcy, I understand I owe you a great deal, for the treatments you recommended did me very well.”

“I am glad to have been of service. It was nothing at all.”

She smiled at him, dipping into a perfect curtsey.

The eldest Miss Bennet held herself with great elegance, and as she turned and walked away to her waiting sister, she moved with the grace of a queen.

Bingley hurriedly walked behind her, helping her into the carriage where Miss Elizabeth already sat.

“Farewell, Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly.

She nodded.

“Farewell, Mr Darcy.”

The carriage door was closed, and both men stood and stared after it, remaining in place until the carriage was but a small dot on the horizon of Netherfield’s grand driveway.

“Well,” Bingley sighed. “That’s that, then.”

“Yes. If you’ll excuse me, I will go and change.”

They walked back to the house in silence, Darcy at once removing himself to his bedroom. As he removed his riding clothes, he went to take his diary from his pocket. He slipped his hand into one pocket of his coat, then another.

Nothing.

His diary was gone.