Page 9 of Shadows beneath Rosings (A Darcy and Elizabeth Quick Read Interlude #5)

E lizabeth stirred, the light bright against her eyelids. But the cellar was dark. She shivered; and it had been cold. But now it was not; she was warm, and lying on a soft bed.

A hand took hers. “You’re safe, Eliza. Back at the parsonage with me, and safe.”

Charlotte. It was Charlotte speaking to her, with tearfulness in her voice. Elizabeth squeezed her hand.

“I’m well, Charlotte, I think.” She frowned, and opened her eyes. “How did I get here?”

Her friend’s face showed evidence that she had been weeping, but a sly little smile showed through. “Mr. Darcy found you and carried you here. Don’t you remember?”

Elizabeth felt herself blush. “I thought I had dreamed it. I dreamed a lot in the cellar that I had got out, and then I never had.”

A few more tears trailed down Charlotte’s face. “I thought I’d lost you forever, Eliza. But why were you dreaming about Mr. Darcy carrying you?” Her grin still wavered; her emotions seemed not quite fully under control. “Have you something to admit to me, finally?”

“Of course not!” Elizabeth was vexed. “You know how I despise him.” But her voice was less certain. She remembered the feel of his arms around her and the feeling of being protected when she was so weak.

Charlotte stood up, her brisk and efficient friend back.

“Let me plump up your pillows, my friend. The apothecary says you must drink a great deal of water as you recover.” She frowned slightly.

“He also cleaned your scratches and removed what splinters he could. Some were very deep and I am not sure he found all of them.” She chewed on her lip.

“He told Mr. Darcy that he hoped they might not cause an infection, but if you developed a fever, he would be concerned for your recovery.”

Elizabeth squeezed her friend’s hand again. “You know I always heal quickly. I have been through many bumps and scrapes and always stayed well.” She hesitated. “Why would the apothecary tell Mr. Darcy about me?”

Charlotte looked rather embarrassed. “Mr. Darcy is downstairs, Eliza. He has led the search for you — been beside himself with anxiety. I think he didn’t even sleep, and hardly ate. He is furious with the de Bourgh ladies.” She hesitated, before speaking again.

“I don’t believe he is the man you thought him to be. He seems to care very deeply for you. Perhaps you don’t remember how carefully and gently he carried you up to bed. ”

He had been here , in this very room? Elizabeth blushed again. But Charlotte was still speaking, and she must listen.

“Miss de Bourgh has refused to admit what happened, but Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have got the story from one of the footmen that Mrs. Jenkinson was blackmailing, and they assisted her to drug you and dispose of you in one of the deepest unused cellars. Everyone is in awe of how you escaped.” Her grin was stronger now, less emotional.

“And Mr. Darcy has sent for his London physician, just in case his skills are needed. I hope you will be kind to him.” She withdrew her hand from Elizabeth’s, and patted it.

“I think I must leave you to rest now. I will go down and reassure Mr. Darcy that you seem to be much better.” She leaned closer. “Let me say this again. When you see him, you must be kind to him.”

Alone, Elizabeth lay back and stared at the ceiling.

What Charlotte had shared with her was overwhelming; she had so much to sort out in her mind, Mr. Darcy’s actions being foremost among them.

Why would he do so much? Charlotte says he cares for me.

I never saw that in him. But it seems his actions have proved her right, and me wrong.

Tears started to her eyes. Not only was she alive, but he had searched for her without ceasing, he had found her and carried her here; he had sent for his physician, and he had found the evidence he needed to make her safe.

She curled up on her side, and wept at how mistaken she had been about him. Was it too late for her?

After a while, the emotional storm of weeping having cleared her mind and given her clarity, she rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed.

Mr. Darcy could not come up here to see her; Charlotte would make sure of that. If she wanted to see Mr. Darcy for herself, and she did, then she must dress and go downstairs. And she would not allow herself to ponder why she would want to see him.

Fortunately she had a day dress with her that buttoned down the front so that she could creep out for an early walk without disturbing the servants.

If Elizabeth rang for the maid, Charlotte would appear too, and then Elizabeth might never make it downstairs.

And she did not wish to be an invalid, not at all.

Her hands and fingers were heavily bandaged, and she growled to herself as she struggled to fasten the buttons. She did not wish to interfere with the bandages, admitting to herself that her hands were rather sore.

But eventually, she was ready, her hair pinned up in a semblance of normality, although she knew it was more wishful thinking and a hasty prayer that would keep her hair up, not the pins.

She grinned to herself at the thought of Mr. Darcy’s embarrassment and Charlotte’s mortification if her hair loosed while she was downstairs.

But she was ready, and she moved carefully along the landing until she came to the stairs.

It was more tiring than she thought, and she leaned against the door frame of the sitting room and looked at the two people who were sitting there in an awkward silence.

She smiled to herself. It must be difficult for Charlotte to have to entertain such a taciturn man for so long, and she wondered how they had evaded the garrulous company of Mr. Collins.

Then Mr. Darcy saw her and leapt to his feet. “Miss Bennet!”

Charlotte also rose and drew Elizabeth to a chair beside the fire. “Eliza, you didn’t dress entirely by yourself, did you? Your poor hands!”

Elizabeth smiled wearily at her. “Charlotte, dearest. Please remember I do not like being fussed over.”

Her friend shook her head and glanced between her and Mr. Darcy. “Very well, I will go and arrange for tea.” She quietly left the room, leaving the door open for propriety.

“It is good to see you downstairs, Miss Bennet.” His voice was quiet, and Elizabeth smiled uneasily.

“I could not delay in wishing to thank you, Mr. Darcy. I understand that you searched and found me. I owe you a great deal.”

“You owe me nothing, madam. I am deeply sorry that I did not know what my cousin was plotting and that I could not protect you from her twisted jealousy.”

“Of me?” Elizabeth was astonished.

He looked rather embarrassed. “I was obviously not as discreet as I thought I was being — as I watched you with admiration, Miss Bennet.”

“Oh,” she blushed. “I had no idea.”

His smile changed all his features. “No, I don’t suppose you did.

But I must tell you how much I admire you, your cheerful happiness and refusal to allow my aunt to intimidate you — and your bravery in escaping that cellar —have made me understand I could never forget you as I tried to when I had left Netherfield. ”

He frowned anxiously. “I hope you can forgive me the words and actions of my relations. When I think of the fear and anguish they caused you, you must wish never to see any of my family, or me, again.”

“That is not true, Mr. Darcy. You are not responsible for their actions, and I am more than grateful you found and assisted me.”

“As I said, you owe me nothing.” He shifted uneasily in his chair. “I pray you have a swift recovery and that none of your injures result in any infection.” He met her eyes. “I hope that if you feel at all unwell you will inform us before anything is too late.”

“Worry not, Mr. Darcy. I will take care, and not accept any invitation to tea alone again.” She gave him a teasing smile, and his anxious expression became a beaming smile. Elizabeth’s heart stuttered within her and she smiled tremulously back.

He rose to his feet, and came closer to her. “You must rest; you are looking wearier already.” His eyes met hers, dark and passionate. “May I call on you tomorrow?”

Elizabeth swallowed. Her time in the cellar had changed everything. Now she was in the light, and it seemed that her life might take a different path. “I would like that, Mr. Darcy.”

And she watched as he bowed over her hand, gave her a gentle smile and left the room.