Page 15 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)

Chapter Fourteen

Frustration ate at Darcy as he stood facing his uncle. There was so much at stake and his uncle either could not see it or he did not want to acknowledge it. Flicking his gaze to Miss Elizabeth, who stood watching him confront his uncle with wide eyes. How could his uncle not see that she was at risk if they left things as they were?

Waving him off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, Uncle Reggie scoffed, “My sister’s been thwarted, and even if she tries something else, it will take time to scheme up anything of significance. Time that she does not have. As much as it pains me to say it, Anne will soon pass and then Richard will be in control. Besides, no matter how flawed her parenting techniques are, surely she has the right to be with her dying daughter.”

Clenching his fists at his sides, he nodded to his uncle and stepped back. It appeared futile to try to change his uncle’s mind, as stubbornness was clearly a family characteristic. Darcy allowed his uncle to leave, exchanging a glance with Richard, who had hugged Miss Elizabeth goodbye. A subtle frown flickered across Richard’s face, a silent protest against his father’s words. It was clear to Darcy that they would both do everything in their power to frustrate their aunt’s schemes. It would have been easier to have the earl’s support, but they would do it without him if they had to.

Darcy approached Miss Elizabeth, wishing that he could hug her as Richard had, instead he simply said, “Miss Elizabeth, I want you to send someone to me if you need help at any time, night or day. I do not trust Aunt Catherine not to lash out, and you will be her most likely victim.”

Smiling, Miss Elizabeth reassured him, “I will do as you ask and alert you at the first hint of concern, but I do not want you to worry. Do not forget that I have dealt with your aunt for most of my life, Mr. Darcy. I have learned quite well how to avoid her machinations.” They stood for a moment, their eyes locked, before Darcy, with a slight bow and a blush creeping up his neck, turned and left.

Halfway back to Darcy House, the chill wind tugging at his collar, he realized his worry wasn’t for his dying cousin, but for the steadfast young woman who’d been her constant companion. Though he wanted to feel guilty because he paid so little attention to Anne and her condition, he knew on some level that her inevitable death would be a release for her from a broken and difficult existence. On the other hand, the threat of his aunt's wrath loomed over Elizabeth, filling him with a sense of dread. Darcy felt a pull towards Miss Elizabeth, an inexplicable force that seemed to tether him to her and captivated him entirely. It was a feeling unlike any other he had experienced in his life. It was inexplicable.

A quiet voice in the back of his mind declared that he had fallen in love with Miss Elizabeth, but Darcy did not know if he believed it. He had never given the theory of love much credence. Men of his class married for the advantage of the match. Darcy expected to find satisfaction in caring for Pemberley and a good job well done. Unlike Bingley, who constantly and openly declared his love, he had never considered himself to be in love; so the idea was foreign to him.

Bingley’s declarations of love for this lady or that were but ephemeral fancies. His sighs and wistful gazes failed to conceal the shallowness of his feelings. Despite his grand pronouncements and flowery language about his feelings, he just stared longingly, like a lovesick calf, across the brightly lit ballrooms. Darcy would die of embarrassment before he would behave in such a fashion, and yet… There was just something about Miss Elizabeth that made him suspect that his feelings for her were more than he had ever imagined.

Arriving at Darcy House, Darcy swung down from his horse and handed off his reins. Still lost in thought, Darcy made his way up the steps and into his home. He saw the worried glances of his staff and he knew they questioned his odd behavior, but he lacked the energy to reassure them. As Darcy stepped into his study, the rich smell of old books and leather filled the air, calming him enough to request coffee and a light meal.

As much as he suspected that his aunt would lash out like a child deprived of a coveted sweet, the absence of facts meant that he could only guess at the exact nature of her outburst and until he knew more, he could do nothing to combat her. And as for his feelings, dwelling on his confusion over what he felt for Miss Elizabeth and what he was going to do with them was getting him nowhere. He would simply have to come to a realization at another time. For now, he would focus on catching up on responding to his recent letter from his steward and his various other correspondence.

With a deep breath, Darcy squared his shoulders, focusing intently on the tangible things he could accomplish, pushing aside the anxieties that clouded his mind. Darcy understood that he needed to efficiently manage his workload and ensure everything that he had fallen behind on was done. That way, once he obtained information about his aunt and her machinations, he would be able to act swiftly and without hesitation.

Darcy thanked the maid for the coffee and food, the china clinking softly as she set it down. He added cream, the rich dairy swirling into the dark brew, and took a distracted sip while perusing the letter detailing the current fleece market rates. Pemberley had a wonderful year for the sheep herds, and he believed it was time to renegotiate the rate for their fleece with their current buyer. If the seller would not agree to a fairer price, Darcy knew he could easily find another company willing to pay for what he felt was right. He knew drafting the proposal would be a time-consuming process, and frankly, Darcy hoped the task would distract him from his worries about the young woman he’d left at de Brough House. The scratching of his pen on the parchment was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his heart.

It had been a tumultuous morning, but Elizabeth clung to the fragile hope that things were moving in the right direction, and that Lady Catherine would remain stymied until Richard could take control of matters. Peeking in at Anne as she slept, Elizabeth reassured herself that she was no worse for having visited with everyone. The weight of Anne’s dwindling time pressed heavily on her, fueling a selfish desire to keep her sister of the heart in her life, fearing any event might steal away even a sliver of their remaining time together.

Closing the door with as little noise as possible, Elizabeth rested her forehead against the hardwood for a moment, gathering strength before she tackled everything else she needed to do for the day. Drawing a deep breath of air into her lungs, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and turned away from the door. She didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was that she had already finished almost all her tasks for the day. Under her management, de Bourgh House ran with remarkable efficiency, but surely she could find something to keep her mind and hands occupied.

Elizabeth ran her hands down her dress, smoothing away invisible wrinkles, deciding she would go below stairs and cheek in with the staff below stairs. It would not do to have them worry about the most recent disorder Lady Catherine had created. Yes, she would reassure the staff and then she would write a note to Jane. While Jane had not been there that morning, Elizabeth knew she would know what had transpired by now and would be worrying. Knowing Lady Catherine’s cruelty would upset Jane, Elizabeth meticulously planned their meetings to avoid any encounters with the formidable Lady Catherine. Perhaps she would propose that they meet up for tea and some shopping later in the week.

Stepping into the kitchen, Elizabeth smiled when the cook, Mrs. Jessop, greeted her. “Miss Elizabeth, dear girl, you are just in time to try my latest batch of biscuits.” Gesturing her over to the small table in the corner, the gregarious woman placed several biscuits on a plate and then looked at Elizabeth expectantly, adding, “You know I am always trying to come up with something to tempt the young miss. Besides, it is not yet time for me to start on the roast for tonight’s meal and I can use an excuse to get off my feet.”

Under the woman’s gentle kindness, Elizabeth felt her muscles slowly unknot, a sense of relief washing over her. Sitting at the table, she watched Mrs. Jessop pour the tea. The comforting clink of the cups was a soothing bit of normalcy that Elizabeth craved. She waited until Mrs. Jessop had settled herself at the table across from her before saying, “I wanted to check on how things are blow stairs after Lady Catherine’s most recent tantrum.”

With a slow, thoughtful sip of her steaming tea, Mrs. Jessop observed Elizabeth, her expression unreadable, before saying, “You needn't worry about the staff,” she said her voice calm, “though it is a kindness that you always do. We all know that woman is a few apples short of a bushel and we take no notice of her. Things are different for us than they are for you. We are just servants. The most that woman can really do is dismiss us and even that would be difficult for her to accomplish because she has no genuine power in the home. Besides, we have all been told that should we wish it we could seek employment with the earl or Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth listened, chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit, and after swallowing, said, “I am relieved to hear that the staff are not worried about Lady Catherine and her antics.”

Putting down her cup, Mrs. Jessop looked Elizabeth in the eye, her gaze unwavering as she said, “I never said the staff were not worried.”

Bewildered, Elizabeth’s mind stumbled, trying to reconcile Mrs. Jessop’s comment that the staff was worried with her early assurance that they were unbothered by Lady Catherine. With a shake of her head, Elizabeth murmured, “But?”

Quick to explain, Mrs. Jessop said, “They are not concerned with their plight, but yours, Miss Elizabeth; we risk nothing, but you stand to lose everything. Though she may treat you otherwise, you are a member of the landed gentry. That position may have many advantages, but it carries many risks as well. You are a genuinely good person who sacrifices much, and we see it, perhaps more than people like the earl and the young gentlemen who were here.”

Mrs. Jessop’s words affected Elizabeth oddly. On the one hand, it was nice to know that she had gained so much respect from the staff, but on the other hand, she did not feel comfortable knowing that they thought she was at risk. Fiddling with the handle of her teacup, Elizabeth asserted, “You know I can manage Lady Catherine, Mrs. Jessop. She may be cruel and spiteful, but I have grown inured to her words. While I am grateful that you and the rest of the staff care that much about me, I do not want you to worry. Moreover, we both know Richard will inherit the grand estate soon, and plans are underway to better contain Lady Catherine.”

Frowning, Mrs. Jessop leaned forward, exclaiming, “I have seen the way Lady Catherine looks at you. It is obvious to me that she hates you. Her venomous gaze speaks of evil intent. That woman intends you ill and I worry you are not safe here with her so close to you. Lady Catherine knows that her time to act is coming to a close. She will unleash her anger, not with spoken threats, but with violence, and you must be ready for it if you hope to make it out of the situation unscathed.”

The kitchen hummed with the quiet sounds of the bubbling stove and the gentle clinking of dishes that the scullery maid washed, but when Mrs. Jessop stopped speaking, a heavy, almost painful silence fell over Elizabeth. Even as a child, Elizabeth had known that Lady Catherine hated her, but she had never once supposed that the woman would attempt to physically harm her. The fact that Mrs. Jessop did was alarming.

Elizabeth picked up her teacup and took a sip and attempted to force her racing heart to settle. Forewarned, she felt a surge of determination to protect herself. Lady Catherine’s schemes would not go unchallenged; should the woman attempt to harm her, she would discover Elizabeth’s resolute spirit and well-laid plans. Setting her shoulders, she said, “Thank you for the warning, Mrs. Jessop. I will be sure to be on my guard.”

Smiling, Mrs. Jessop picked up a biscuit. “Good.” Then, a sly grin playing on her lips, she continued, her eyes twinkling, “So, young Thomas tells me that Mr. Darcy protected you from Lady Catherine’s venom, actually shielding you from her displeasure? He is quite the strapping young man. Handsome, too. How did it feel to be protected by such a man?”

Sputtering on her tea, Elizabeth struggled to compose herself and find the words to answer Mrs. Jessop. Elizabeth had been struggling to push aside that particular experience, avoiding thinking about what could not be, but Mrs. Jessop’s words recalled the feeling of Mr. Darcy protecting her with vivid clarity. The comforting weight of Mr. Darcy's protection settled heavily on her, even if all he had done was offer her his arm in support. It felt like so much more. The butterflies that had erupted in her stomach when he settled his hand over hers had completely wiped out the fear from the moment when she had been certain that Lady Catherine would strike her. A bittersweet ache bloomed in her chest; she longed for something more from him, a connection she couldn’t quite define, and it left her uncertain about the possibility of a happy future without him in her life. Knowing she had to say at least something, Elizabeth murmured, “It was a wonderful thing to be protected by such a man.”

The first thought that wormed his way into Darcy’s mind was that his neck hurt. The second was that he was not in his bed but rather in an odd position, leaning against a hard surface. Darcy lay there momentarily, trying to understand what had landed him in such a position, when he heard a throat clear somewhere near his elbow. Sitting up right caused a tremendous agony to shoot down his neck and along his spine causing him to gasp.

“Sir?”

Groaning, Darcy swiveled his gaze to spot his valet standing there with a tray. Running a tired hand down his stubbled face, Darcy asked in a low voice, “Perry?”

Holding a glass out, Perry explained, “You fell asleep at your desk, sir. I have brought you your headache powders.” Darcy automatically accepted the offered glass, the cool liquid a welcome relief as it slid down his throat.

Stretching, Darcy glanced about his desk, remembering that he had been trying to keep busy to distract himself from worrying about Miss Elizabeth. It appeared he had made considerable progress though, as there was a stack of correspondence ready to go out at the corner of the desk. Collecting the stack of letters, Darcy handed them to Perry and asked, “Can you see that these get sent out?”

“Of course, sir.” Perry’s response was typical, but besides accepting the stack from Darcy, he did not move away. He stood there in the way that Darcy had grown accustomed to. It was clear that Perry had something that he wanted to say and was waiting for the opportunity.

Darcy, too flustered that morning to be subtle, blurted out his question to Perry. “Is there something that you want to discuss with me?”

“Between coming home in a bluster and sleeping in your study, you have most of the staff quite concerned. This behavior is not like you at all, sir. Is there something that you are concerned about, sir? Perhaps something to do with Lady Catherine?”

With his chin resting in his hands, Darcy gazed up at Perry’s face, a faint smile gracing his lips. Though not as close as friends, Darcy knew Perry, his valet of many years, had his best intentions at heart. Just as he was about to unburden himself, Richard strode into the room, his voice a casual, almost careless announcement, “Darcy is worried about Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Aunt Catherine’s furious wrath.”

Nodding as if such a concern was only to be expected Perry said, “Lady Catherine is the sort of person who would cause concern in any person of sense.” Turning to Richard, Perry gave an abbreviated bow adding, “I will leave you to converse with Mr. Darcy. Ring if you have a need of anything.”

With a sigh, Darcy shifted in his chair as Perry left, and Richard smoothly pulled a chair from the wall, placing it with a quiet thud across from him. It was clear that Richard wanted Darcy to vent his frustrations and worries. So Darcy said, “Our aunt is cruel, conniving and complicit in an attempt to harm Miss Elizabeth in some way and yet your father, the earl, has only seen fit to send her to her room.”

“And you are worried that Lizzie will come to harm with Aunt Catherine so close at hand.” Richard spoke as if only acknowledging the obvious.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, Darcy grumbled, “Miss Elizabeth is determined to stay there and care for Anne, who will not survive much longer. What she is doing is noble and I can only be grateful for the love she shows our cousin, but I cannot help but worry.” Rubbing at his face Darcy pondered for a moment before adding, “I am not at liberty to protect her as I want to, and it is driving me to distraction.”

With a single eyebrow raised, Richard asked, “And what prevents you from protecting Lizzie as you wish?”

Resisting the urge to glare at his cousin, Darcy grumbled, “I am not related to Miss Elizabeth. She is not my sister nor my cousin. No matter how you view her, we have no familial connection. It would look rather untoward if I acted as I wished.”

Fighting a smile that Richard asked, “And how do you wish to act, Darcy?”

Looking away from Richard’s questioning gaze, Darcy said, “I wish to go to de Bourgh House and scoop Miss Elizabeth up. I yearn to keep her safe from all dangers, especially Aunt Catherine, who I fear would cause her pain. I want to bring her back here and see her in my house, see her across the breakfast table and reading in my library. I want to make certain that look of fear never again crosses her face; I want to erase the memory of it from her eyes.”

“It sounds as if you wish Lizzie to be the mistress of Darcy House. Do you hesitate because you worry that she is not worth of such a privilege?” Even as he said the provocative statement, Richard’s face was kept carefully blank. A tactic Darcy was not unfamiliar with, but it did not anger him any less.

“With her intelligence and compassion, Miss Elizabeth is perfectly suited to be the mistress of Darcy House or Pemberley or any other grand estate! She could manage any household with impeccable style and grace,” countered Darcy.

“Then why to you hesitate to act on what you want?” questioned Richard.

“I… do not know.” Darcy murmured with hesitation. Why was he so hesitant to do anything with his newfound feelings? Even realizing that he felt something for Miss Elizabeth had been slightly frightening. He had never expected to stumble into love. He had reached his advanced age without caring for most women of the ton, having resigned himself to some form of marriage of convenience, when suddenly he looked at Elizabeth and a yearning ignited in his chest. It was a yearning that he did not expect, and he was uncomfortable with things he could neither foresee nor quantify. So he hesitated.

Apparently, Richard did not seem to be satisfied with his answer, so he waited. Groaning, Darcy sat up straighter and setting his shoulders, he admitted, “I never expected to feel this way. These feelings are an unknown, and I am lost, unsure of how to find my way forward.”

Smiling, Richard leaned slightly forward. “You handle it as you handle any new experience or skill, one step at a time. The unfamiliar sting of new love shouldn’t send you running. Exploring the depths of love is a worthwhile journey, and the rewards are immeasurable.”

Richard’s words hit Darcy like a punch to his solar plexus, taking the air out of his lungs. The image of Miss Elizabeth, her enchanting eyes dancing with humor as she smiled at him over a cup of tea, struck him with surprising intensity. He imagined a future where, if only he could conquer his hesitation and win Miss Elizabeth’s heart, her smiling eyes would grace his every day, a remarkable reward indeed. He just had to gather the strength to act and court the lady he had come to love. There was every chance that the rewards would be glorious.

Darcy stood, a slight smile playing on his lips as he stretched, then nodded to his cousin. “I will say this,” he began, the words tinged with amusement, “if this is how Bingley feels every time he talks of being in love, it is no wonder I fear for his sanity at times.”

“At least he seems to have finally settled onto the real thing with Jane and has calmed down a bit,” chuckled Richard. Then, looking Darcy over, he added, “How about you go get cleaned up and we can discuss how we are going to protect Lizzie from the Gorgon over breakfast?”

Ruefully rubbing the scruff on his face, Darcy nodded and made for the door. As he reached the foot of the stairs, he called back to Richard, “Do not eat all my bacon before I come back down!”