Page 2 of Penned by Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #3)

“Very well. I would be delighted.”

“Excellent! Do come down when you are ready. Miss Bennet, should you need anything, anything at all, please let me know. Or ring the bell. Yes, the bell. My staff will be pleased to attend to you.”

“Thank you, sir. You are too generous.”

“Not at all, not at all!”

Mr Bingley stood, frozen, gazing at Jane still. Elizabeth cleared her throat and he startled back to himself, excusing himself with a brief bow. As Lizzy closed the door behind him, she could not help but giggle.

“Lizzy!” Jane scolded. “You must not laugh. He might think we are making sport of him.”

“Forgive me sister! The poor man is beside himself with worry, but I think he shall recall the image of you in bed for all his life.”

Jane gasped, utterly shocked, and Lizzy realised that her words had strayed beyond playful teasing.

“Forgive me, I did not mean…”

“You forget yourself, Lizzy. He must not come in here again. I could not bear for it to be misconstrued; perhaps it already has.”

“Jane, I was not in earnest!.”

“It is not funny! I think you should join them for lunch now,” Jane said softly, her eyes shining with hurt. “I wish to rest.”

“Jane, I really didn’t mean…”

“I know, I know. Please, make every effort to remain agreeable to our hosts whilst we are here. You have a sharp tongue.”

“You are right. Can you forgive me?”

Jane nodded, a weak smile playing on her lips.

“You know that I cannot be cross with you. Go, and tell me all that happens when you return.”

“Very well.”

Lizzy leant over, kissing her sister on the cheek. Her skin was flushed with heat, the scent of illness about her. She really had been cruel to tease Jane, for her sister disliked jests at her expense even when she was well, let alone when she was suffering as she presently was.

“Sleep well,” Lizzy said, standing up.

Jane’s eyes had already closed.

∞∞∞

As she made her way to the dining room for lunch, Lizzy once again became conscious of her appearance.

She had made no effort to amend the damage from her muddy walk, save the removal of her coat which lay draped over a chair in Jane’s bedchamber.

She glanced down; the worst of it, thank goodness, had been on her pelisse, but there was still a good amount on her skirt.

Her hair, now that she had removed her bonnet, was surely beyond redemption.

She paused, glancing towards her reflection in a mirror.

She carded a finger half-heartedly through her curls, trying to smooth them down, with very little success.

Suddenly, there was another figure in the mirror. Tall, elegant, and foreboding.

Lizzy jumped, turning to Mr Darcy standing behind her. He bowed his head in greeting.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Mr Darcy. Forgive me; you startled me.”

“It was not my intention.”

Silence fell heavily upon them. Lizzy wracked her mind for something to say to the man. He made no effort to move away, nor did he offer anything by way of conversation himself. Instead, the pair stayed locked in an awkward encounter, until the sound of the luncheon gong made them both flinch.

“I understand you are to join us.”

“Yes. Mr Bingley extended the invitation.”

“I see.”

“I am to stay for as long as my sister is unwell,” Lizzy told him as they walked.

“Oh.”

She did not miss the note of irritation in his voice, her shoulders tightening at the implied slight.

Such incivility! Even if a houseguest was unwelcome, one must still pretend to be delighted.

It was a simple matter of etiquette. What sort of a gentleman could not even feign enthusiasm at the presence of a lady?

She made no reply; her tongue had already got her in trouble once this afternoon, and she supposed she must endeavour to be civil to Mr Darcy – even if he evidently had no such intention.

They walked in silence together to the dining room.

Mr Bingley, his sisters and Mr Hurst had already taken their seats.

Only two were empty, next to one another.

“There you are, Darcy. And Miss Elizabeth! How pleased we are that you could join us.”

“I thank you for the invitation.”

“But Miss Elizabeth! What has happened to you?!” gasped Mrs Hurst, gesturing in horror to Elizabeth’s skirts. “Did you take a fall?”

Elizabeth bit her tongue, dutifully looking down at her skirts and keeping her face steady as she acknowledged the mess of her hem.

It was far better than it could have been, at least; she had come back from outings with mud splattered as far as her elbows.

Today she was positively clean in comparison.

“No, I assure you I succeeded in remaining quite upright for the entirety of my walk here. The roads are a little muddy after the rain, that is all.”

“Walk!” cried Caroline Bingley, “Why, there must be at least twenty miles between Netherfield and Meryton!”

“Only three, and a very pleasant three at that.”

“I am sure,” Caroline replied tightly. “Would you care to borrow something of mine?”

Lizzy hesitated, glancing up at the servant who had pulled out her chair for her. He stared ahead impassively, and Lizzy dared not look at the other people around the table.

“Nonsense!” Mr Bingley said at last. “A little mud never hurt anyone. You make it sound as though she bathed in the stuff, Caroline. You are right, Miss Elizabeth; walking is most beneficial exercise.”

The matter settled, Elizabeth sank into the proffered chair.

Mr Darcy, satisfied that all the woman were now seated, moved to his chair beside her.

She was glad only that he was not opposite her; one was not truly expected to speak with the person beside them, and so they could continue being cold towards one another without causing offence.

Luncheon was served promptly, and Lizzy was quickly distracted from the charged atmosphere by the sumptuous repast placed upon the table before her.

“What a pity we could not bring Cook down with us from London,” Caroline lamented. “Or stolen yours away from Pemberley, Mr Darcy. I am sure we would enjoy far finer meals were they in the kitchen.”

“Really, Caroline,” Mr Bingley said, “you are far too exacting. You are stricter than any colonel I have encountered.”

Caroline smiled tightly.

“One must rule one’s home with a fist of iron, or else face the consequences of being cheated by one’s servants. Wouldn’t you agree Mr Darcy?” Caroline asked.

“I cannot say.”

“You do not rule your household with, as Miss Bingley puts it, a fist of iron, sir?” Elizabeth asked, unable to resist the temptation to tease him. “I cannot imagine you are a lax master, for you have such exacting opinions.”

“My housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, is a most competent and trusted overseer. And my stewards and agents have my full trust. In fact, there is little they require my assistance with.”

“You need a wife, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Hurst said. “A house as grand as Pemberley needs a mistress at the helm, not just a housekeeper.”

Mr Darcy said nothing, his jaw tight. The table fell into silence, and Lizzy was almost impressed at the influence the man had over his friends. They seemed to look to him for an example of behaviour. How strange, to admire a man who had so little to recommend him, save his fortune.

He was handsome, she supposed, stealing a glance to her right.

In a cold, severe sort of way. Men who were in possession of fine looks were often too-well informed of such.

It had no doubt contributed to his vanity.

Men less-endowed with handsome features and pleasing looks had to cultivate other charms – perhaps that was why Mr Darcy had none.

The luncheon continued, and Lizzy put Mr Darcy out of her mind – as much as one could when sitting directly beside him. She paid no notice to the rare word he spoke, and nor did she notice that he smelled rather nice, of something clean and foreign to her senses. She paid him no mind at all.

“What a shame your sister has fallen ill, Miss Eliza,” Caroline said. “Tell me, is she prone to such bouts of illness?”

“I am pleased to say that she is not.”

“It is perhaps best she is situated here in the country. I doubt she would enjoy living in town with such weak lungs,” Caroline continued, paying Lizzy’s words no mind at all.

“The air is not so clean as it is here, but it has never troubled me. London has so much to offer, if one has the constitution for it.”

“My sister has been to town on several occasions, Miss Bingley, and she enjoyed it greatly. As I say, such an illness is unusual.”

When the meal had concluded, Lizzy made her excuses to return to Jane.

She ascended the stairs slowly, admiring the decorated ceilings and intricate carved banister as she took each step.

She longed to explore, having spent most of her life hearing of Netherfield’s wonderful library and exquisitely appointed rooms. Perhaps Miss Bingley would consent to giving her a tour – although, Lizzy thought, Caroline would be an unnatural guide, unable to keep scorn from her voice for more than a moment or two.

Elizabeth had quicky gathered that Netherfield could never measure up to all Miss Bingley had seen elsewhere.

When Lizzy reached Jane’s bedroom, she slipped inside without knocking. Jane was awake, sitting back against the pillows, coughing heavily.

“Oh, Jane! I am sorry, I should never have left you.”

“I…I am well,” Jane wheezed.

“What can I do?” Lizzy asked.

What had her mother done – or rather, what had Mrs Hill done – when they had been sick as children? Lizzy tried to remember, and recalled a time when Hill had made her inhale steam for hours upon end to ease a head cold.

“Hot water,” Lizzy said. “I will go and fetch some.”

Jane nodded.

Lizzy left the room, and stood in the corridor.

The house was unfamiliar to her, and she did not know where she could find a servant.

To return downstairs would draw the attention of Mr Bingley, as well as his sisters, and she did not wish to attract more scrutiny to her sister’s illness after Caroline’s comments over luncheon.

She ventured in the opposite direction of the stairs, hoping to find another staircase that would take her downstairs without notice. As she passed several doors, she did indeed find a staircase – one that was in use.

Mr Darcy was coming up the stairs, his head down as he focused on the task at hand. She said nothing, watching him in silence until he noticed her standing there. His gaze lingered on her feet for a moment, before rising to look at her.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

“Mr Darcy.”

“How is your sister?” he asked.

“She is quite unwell, I’m afraid. Forgive me for wandering the halls, but do you know where I might find the housekeeper? I would like some hot water for her to inhale.”

“I daresay you will find her in the servant’s quarters.”

“I presumed as much,” Lizzy snapped before she could hold in the words. “But as I am unfamiliar with Netherfield, I do not know where they are located. Thank you for your assistance, Mr Darcy.”

“I will ask my valet to liaise with her on your behalf. You may return to your sister, stay by her side. My sister is susceptible to colds, and he is familiar with the treatments our family doctor prescribes.”

Lizzy blinked with surprise; she had not expected his help to be so forthcoming, or so very practical.

“I would be very grateful for any assistance. I do not have much experience as a nursemaid.”

“Your sister is fortunate to have such attentive family. Return to her, Miss Elizabeth, and I will see that you receive all that you need.”

“Thank you.”

He acknowledged her thanks with nothing more than a nod, before turning from her and walking away down the corridor. Lizzy stared after him; the encounter had been so strange it did not feel real, and she returned to Jane’s room as he had instructed in a daze.