Page 20 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth woke, feeling oddly rested despite the stiffness in her shoulders, a lingering ache from the previous day’s stresses. It was not an unusual problem for Elizabeth, as more than once she had had a trying day that led to a sore body the next day. She stretched, her eyes still closed, attempting to get the kinks out of her knee and shoulders. Then, with a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked around the room. As she had suspected, she was in the room she normally stayed in when she visited Matlock House.
The weak purple light filtering through the window indicated it was still quite early, a pre-dawn hue painting the room in soft shades. Elizabeth had always been an early riser, so waking early did not surprise her, especially knowing that she had fallen asleep quite early the evening before. Her last clear memory was the soft cushions of the settee, the lingering scent of Jane’s honeysuckle scented soap still on her skin, before the hazy void of sleep swallowed her whole. She couldn’t even recall getting into bed.
She did remember her dreams, though. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she recalled the delicious dream; the feel of Mr. Darcy’s arms as held her, protecting her from the world. The low tone of his voice as he murmured sweet nothings she couldn’t quite make out, the feeling of his touch lingered even now in her waking hours. It all fueled her longing for the man that she knew was out of reach.
Rolling over with a sigh, Elizabeth slid her feet to the floor and stood up. Then, stretching at the waist, a yawn escaping her lips, she scanned the room for her robe, only to find Jane asleep in a chair beside her bed, a sight that caused her to gasp. Elizabeth mused that she must have been heavily asleep not to have taken note when Jane came in the room to watch over her. It was an odd feeling as she was more often than not the person who looked over others, especially as she had been so involved in Anne’s care.
Jane’s maid had told her that Jane was at a ball the night before. Elizabeth reflected that she likely arrived home in the early hours, only to learn of Elizabeth’s arrival while she was out. Soft-hearted thing that she was, Jane had not gone on to her own bed as she should have. Shaking her head, Elizabeth moved to her sister’s side, shaking her gently. “Janie, dear heart, why are you not in your bed?”
Eyes still closed, Jane mumbled, “Why would I be in my bed when my sister needed me?” Then, after stretching, she opened her eyes and reached out, capturing Elizabeth in an embrace. Speaking into her hair, Jane said, “Mr. Darcy and Richard explained what Lady Catherine did. Are you well?”
Hugging Jane back, Elizabeth sighed, “It is not an experience that I would ever repeat if I had a choice, but I managed it and today is a new day.” Elizabeth righted herself and sat on the edge of the bed across from her, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched Jane moved to sit next to her and link their arms, laying her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. The habit was a comforting familiarity that she had always adored and found strength in now. “It is still very early; you should go to bed and get some much-needed rest in something besides a chair. I am sure you will want to look your best for when your Mr. Bingley comes to call.”
Sitting up straighter, Jane looked at Elizabeth, an eyebrow raised. “We may not live in the same house as your typical sisters do, but I still know you, Elizabeth Rose. So I know that you are avoiding talking about what happened yesterday. As I see that you are well, I will accept that you do not want to talk about it and move on. Besides, I am not certain Mr. Bingley will come today, he does not come calling every day.”
Only Jane, with her insightful gaze, would catch her in the act of dodging the topic. But wasn’t that what sisters were for—to know everything about you and always wish for your happiness? The best of sisters had a bond that resonated with quiet strength. A sly smile played on Elizabeth’s lips as she said, “Ah, but I suspect you would want to look your best for him should he show up. His name appears frequently in your letters. Most recently, I believe you said he was everything that a gentleman should be.”
Stifling a giggle in Elizabeth’s shoulder, Jane squeezed her arm. Then with a sigh she said, “Lizzie, He is truly the best of men! He is everything I have ever thought to want in a gentleman, but I want you to meet him and his sisters before I’m completely lost in love.”
Concerned, Elizabeth asked, “Are you uncertain of something?”
“No, not exactly,” began Jane, tracing the flower pattern on her night rail. “At least I am not uncertain of Mr. Bingley. It is his sisters who are in question. Richard harbors a dislike for the sisters, deeming them capricious and cruel to those they deem beneath them. Mother asserts the younger sister is an avaricious social climber.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, a frown furrowing her brow as she wondered what could have happened to put Richard so on edge. “And you are too kind-hearted to think ill of them, and so you seek to know my opinion. I will be glad to grant it.”
The two of them lapsed into companionable silence, both soaking up the comfort of the moment, though Elizabeth’s mind was quick to start ruminating on the things she would have to face that day. For one thing, she would not be staying at de Bourgh House anymore, so she would somehow have to have her things brought over. She also would have to decide how she wanted to handle Lady Catherine moving forward.
Uncle Reggie would not stand for how his sister had behaved. Elizabeth was certain of it. Oh yes, the earl was already devising a plan to deal with Lady Catherine, and Mr. Darcy and Richard, with their own desires for retribution, would undoubtedly want to have their say. Elizabeth knew she would have to decide at least whether or not she wanted to confront the woman, but she did not want to think about that decision yet.
Though she wished to disregard Lady Catherine, Anne’s well-being weighed on her mind. Breaking the silence, Elizabeth asked, “Do you know what, if anything, has been explained to Anne about my disappearance from de Bourgh House?”
Jane shook her head, a slight frown furrowing her brow as she answered, “Mr. Darcy didn’t mention it at all when I saw him this evening.”
Jane’s simple phrase had Elizabeth’s heart stuttering as she blurted, “Mr. Darcy was here?”
“Yes.” A mischievous glint sparkled in Jane's eyes as she watched Elizabeth. “In fact, Eliza, my lady’s maid said that he was the one who ended up carrying you to your bed when you fell asleep in my sitting room.”
Richard sat across from Darcy in the quiet morning room, the only sound the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock. The light from the window was more of a murky shadow than true illumination, so they sat in shadow at the table that was not yet ready for anyone to break their fast. He took a large gulp of his coffee before he asked, “So when are you going to tell Elizabeth that you are in love with her?”
The shock of his cousin’s words did more good to wake him than the two cups of coffee he had already imbibed. Eyes wide, he glared at Richard, exclaiming, “I have barely come to grips with the fact that I love her. I am not nearly ready to do anything about it. Besides, I do not want to push her into anything after such a traumatic ordeal.”
Both men regarded one another in expectant silence as a maid entered with a tray of food, set it upon the sideboard, and, upon noticing them, stirred the fire and lit several branches of candles. Watching the woman leave, Richard got up and grabbed a pasty from the platter. Taking a large bite of the pastry, Richard rested his hip on the table and looked down at Darcy. “A little birdie told me that you stayed by Elizabeth’s side last night watching her sleep for hours. At this point, everyone knows you are in love with her. Is there a reason you think Elizabeth should be the only one who does not know of your feelings for her?”
A groan escaped Darcy’s lips as he dropped his head onto the table, the action prompting a fit of laughter from Richard. While he could see the logic in what Richard said, Darcy could not for the life of him come up with any logical plan of how to reveal his feelings for Elizabeth without dying of humiliation. Maybe he should just propose? Surely if he proposed she would know that he cared for her?
Darcy pulled his head up and looked over at the still smiling Richard and said, “You know Elizabeth well. How do you think she would react if I proposed?”
Eyes narrowing, Richard asked, “Is this supposed proposal before or after your declaration of undying love?”
Sitting up and pushing back from the table, Darcy ran his hand through his hair. “Surely a proposal of marriage works as a declaration of love. I would not be proposing if I did not have feelings for her.”
Hand to his head, as if massaging a burgeoning headache, Richard explained, “You do know that most of the proposals in the ton have nothing to do with love. If any emotion is involved, it is greed. You are a man of logic; surely you can see your reasoning is not sound.”
With a sigh, Darcy stood and began to pace back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. He truly wanted to marry Elizabeth, and the prospect of not having to reveal his deepest emotions was appealing. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, and he had spent so much of his life hiding how he felt that the thought of changing that, even for Elizabeth, was overwhelming. While a voice of reason told him Richard was correct, a stubborn part of him clung to the idea, refusing to let go. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge his own denial, a knot of resistance tightening in his chest.
He could find a way to propose the right way that would avoid a grand confession, he was sure of it. Darcy stopped, faced Richard, and said, “I just have to come up with the right words to use in the proposal. Something like… The situation you experienced firsthand when my aunt unleashed her wrath will have convinced you of the value of a powerful ally, and I’m more than happy—eager, even—to be that for you. Knowing that you were in danger yesterday moved me to understand I want nothing more than to have you as my wife and have you always safe at my side. While your background is unusual for a woman marrying into the Darcy family, your close relationship with the Fitzwilliams and your beauty are undeniable; therefore, I accept you without question.”
Confident in his well-crafted proposal, a self-satisfied smile touched Darcy’s lips. Though that smile disappeared when he caught sight of Richard’s expression. Darcy replayed his words in his mind, trying to pinpoint the flaw in his logic. There was nothing incorrect about what he said. He had said that he wanted her for his wife, that he wanted to protect her from the cruelties of the world. How could that be wrong?
“You are an idiot.” A moment of stony silence passed across Richard’s face before the telltale twitch of his eye as he spat, “No, ‘idiot’ is far too kind a descriptor. You are a lout, an addlebrained fool, and a bufflehead, and if you try to say anything of the sort to Elizabeth, I will be forced to thrash you.”
“But—”
“Keep your mouth shut, Darcy, and let me teach you something vital to the rest of your existence,” snapped Richard. “First off, you cannot propose to a woman like Elizabeth without first speaking of how much you love her. There is no getting around having to share your emotions with her because she will not accept anything less and your life will be better for it. Both she and Jane have promised that they will not marry for less than love. Didn’t you think it was odd that Jane has been out for two years and with as beautiful as she is, she has never even been closed to engaged?”
Tilting his head, Darcy considered Richard’s words. “I never thought about it much.”
“Jane has had several proposals, but she has turned them all down because she knew there was no love in the proposed match. She even turned down a viscount. Love is that important to her, and Elizabeth is no different.” Richard watched Darcy for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before continuing, “Second, a strong woman like Elizabeth would disdain the idea that she needs to get married to be protected. If anything, her experience yesterday proved she has the ability to get out of scrapes without your assistance. Never, under any circumstances, insult a woman by questioning her background—a factor entirely outside her control—especially when proposing marriage. It is incredibly disrespectful.”
Moving back to his seat from earlier, Darcy collapsed into it. He knew that Richard was right. Even before offering his poorly worded proposal, a nagging doubt had surfaced—a quiet understanding that gaining Elizabeth’s affection wouldn’t be the simple task he hoped.
Elizabeth was a remarkable woman. With her sharp mind and inner strength, she had even saved herself from Lady Catherine’s plot, making his attempt to avoid responsibility all the more galling. But wasn’t Elizabeth worth putting forth the effort? Didn’t she deserve to know she was loved beyond all reason?
“Have you finally made sense of it all?” Richard asked, the question hanging in the air between them as he sat back down and took a sip of his coffee.
With a rueful smile and a glance at Richard, Darcy murmured, “Yes. It will be difficult for me, but if I cannot prove my love, I have no right to hope for hers.”
“Carried me to bed?!” Elizabeth let out a sound that was part screech, part gasp.
Though Jane did not laugh at her sister outright, she did smile widely at her reaction to the news. “Does it bother you that he took care of you while you were not aware of it?”
Not wanting to feed into Jane’s enjoyment of the situation, Elizabeth was quick to laugh and say, “I am simply surprised that he would do such a thing. I did not even know that he knew I was here.” Worrying her lip, Elizabeth pondered why it upset her to think of Mr. Darcy carrying her to bed. Jane was kind enough to let her think without pestering her for a more complete response.
Elizabeth could not recall a time that she had ever been carried in her life. Though she assumed that she must have been held and carried as a baby, she was too young to retain any memories of it; the sensations of gentle rocking and soft touches were lost to the past. So the fact that Mr. Darcy carried her was a jarring realization, though not entirely unwelcome.
Her dream of being held by him was explained by the fact that she had been. She would admit, if only to herself, that she had enjoyed the dream and had, in fact, relished the sense of security and warmth it gave her. She dreamt of his tender embrace, a vision of cherished love, but the chilling suspicion his actions were driven merely by a sense of duty, rather than genuine affection, pierced her soul like a poisoned arrow.
Reaching out, Jane took Elizabeth’s hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. “What about the fact that Mr. Darcy carried you upset you so much?”
“What if carrying me to bed does not mean the same thing to me as it does to him?” With a frustrated shake of her head, Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes, where the warmth of the impending tears was almost unbearable.
“And how do you feel about the fact that he carried you to bed?” questioned Jane.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and admitted, “Knowing he did something so kind, so caring for me, is more than delightful. It is a dream come true.” With a blush rising on her cheeks, she gazed at Jane and whispered, “I dreamt last night that he held me safe in his arms. That feeling of being cherished, even if it was only a dream, was unlike anything I’d ever known—a breathtaking, heart-swelling joy. However, the possibility of him not feeling the same is a crushing, agonizing blow. The realization that I love him while he might view me as an obligation is a humiliating, desperate agony, a stark contrast to the easy confidence I usually possess, and I do not know what to do about it.” Elizabeth’s voice became increasingly wretched as she spoke, and she finally collapsed backward onto the bed, gazing hopelessly up at the ceiling.
“Oh my dear girl,” began Jane. “You have always been so strong, so assured. I have always been in awe of your inner strength, the way you meet every challenge head-on, never giving in to weakness. I must confess that your resilience overwhelmed me. Even as a child, it was you who took care of me, though now that I look back, I can understand you were just as afraid. Only you would not, could not let yourself show it. I should have realized that love, a force as powerful as gravity, would ultimately bring you back down to earth to join the rest of us mere mortals.” Reaching out, Jane smoothed the hair back from Elizabeth’s brow.
Silence filled the room, and Elizabeth did not have the heart to say anything to disturb it. It was true Elizabeth did not show weakness, but that did not mean that she did not feel it, and she was certainly feeling it at that moment.
A poem about love’s empowering nature, about the strength it gave, came back to her, its message mocking her current feelings of vulnerability. Elizabeth did not like feeling vulnerable. She had not liked the feeling while she walked through the slum, and she did not like it now. Still, she had no desire to let go of her love for Mr. Darcy. Although it left her feeling exposed, the knowledge of her love for Mr. Darcy filled her with a cherished warmth, a sweet, secret joy.
Apparently feeling that the silence had gone on long enough, Jane asked, “Why do you suppose Mr. Darcy does not return your feelings?”
Brow furrowing, Elizabeth gazed up at Jane. “Mr. Darcy is a man of prominence. He attends society events regularly. He has multiple estates, the largest being Pemberley. I would not be surprised to learn that he is wealthier than Uncle Reggie. The better question is, why would he return my feelings?” she questioned, genuinely puzzled that her sister even deemed it a possibility. “I am the daughter of a gentleman, yes, but I have no ties to an estate. I lack wealth and seldom find myself in the company of the elite. I have not even been presented to the queen. Mr. Darcy requires a sophisticated bride, someone who can hold court, unlike me, who would probably insult his guests and launch into a discussion about agricultural policy. I am not special enough to be Mrs. Darcy.”
Pulling Elizabeth up with a jerk, Jane gripped Elizabeth’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. “Now you listen here, Elizabeth Rose. You are a remarkable person and a splendid lady of worth, and you are not allowed to undermine yourself. So what if you have not had your curtsey before the queen? Mother Judith can make that happen without blinking. You are the only woman I know who would look at being mistress of multiple estates as an adventure and who would care for the people there with kindness and compassion.” Taking a gasping breath after such an impassioned speech, Jane crossed her arms and asked, “Do you think Mr. Darcy would rather talk of lace or crop reforms?”
Fighting a chuckle, Elizabeth was forced to admit, “Crop reforms.”
Eyebrows raised, Jane stared at Elizabeth. “Then why do you think he deserves a society miss who only knows how to sparkle and could not converse with him about anything of substance? The poor man would go mad in short order. Why do you insist on assigning him such a horrid fate?”
Jane’s words brought Elizabeth up short. It was true that Mr. Darcy hated talking with most women of the ton. They were all trained to discuss safe topics like gossip and the weather, while Elizabeth had thought it a ridiculous restriction and talked about what she wished to. When given the opportunity, they could converse on nearly any subject that interested either of them at the time. Did that signify, however minuscule, the presence of hope?