Too Close to Mr Darcy Read online

  The doctor waited for the effect of his words to die down and continued.

  "I also found her pulse steady and her breathing rhythmic and clear. In short, I believe instead of seeing a deterioration in her health, we could speak of improvement."

  Lady Catherine squinted at the old man as if she were assessing his sanity. According to her own admission, she had gotten rid of doctors for far less blasphemous claims before. Dr. Morton had remained at Rosings for an unusually long period since Lady Catherine believed she had finally found a trustworthy expert. Here he was, speaking nonsense now!

  "Doctor," she said flatly, "Are you certain your assessment is sound? Perhaps you are not feeling well yourself. May I remind you that my daughter was brought to me unconscious only a few hours ago. It has been your own recommendation, one I found well-grounded and effective, that she should not leave her bed or be exposed to the elements in any form until her recovery is definite."

  "It is quite astounding to myself as well," the doctor muttered, scratching his temple, then lifted his eyes from the floor to meet Lady Catherine's unblinking stare, "but I assure you, I have been every bit as meticulous and sober in my examination as I have always been."

  Lady Catherine grunted, but the doctor seemed too excited by his patient's improved state to pay her any heed, so he continued.

  "Admittedly, her muscles are still very weak and the capacity of her lungs is rather limited. To this, I attribute the momentary fainting. After all, the exercise she had undertaken was ill-advised and too ambitious."

  Elizabeth flinched at his words, which were undoubtedly directed at her own lack of good judgment.

  "Still," Dr. Morton went on, "I am ready to admit I was wrong about keeping Miss de Bourgh confined to her room. It appears fresh air and exercise would be indispensable to her wellbeing and we have thus far denied them to her."

  "You have denied them to her," Lady Catherine hissed, clearly displeased with what she was hearing. "And for what I believe were the right reasons."

  "Forgive me for wishing to alter my prescription based on what I have observed today. Miss de Bourgh would, in my opinion, greatly benefit from daily walks. Only a few minutes at a time to start with."

  Lady Catherine's eyes rounded to platters. Elizabeth's heart thrummed in celebration and she was barely able to keep from smiling. Even if she were still dismissed from her position, at least she had done her mistress more good than harm. She could return to Longbourn with that thought.

  But why was it that Lady Catherine did not accept the good news with anything close to elation and relief? For a while, the old woman appeared at a loss for words, while the rest of the party hurried to express their delight at the favorable turn of events.

  "Ah," Dr. Morton exclaimed on his way out. "Before I forget, Miss de Bourgh has asked me to explicitly express her deepest gratitude to Miss Bennet for taking such good care of her."

  Now, Lady Catherine clearly seethed with dissatisfaction. Her jaw was clenched and her lips were pressed into a white slash.

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush as everyone regarded her with such interest as if she had only now entered the room. On impulse, she looked at Mr. Darcy though she had promised herself not to suffer through another torturous stare of his again. To her utter dismay, he was looking at her intently and he was... smiling.

  If only she could read what was on his mind...

  15

  Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been a lot on Mr. Darcy's mind lately. Too much perhaps.

  In the private minutes before he drifted off to sleep, he often caught his mind returning to that first moment when he had set his eyes on her upon her arrival at Rosings.

  Admittedly, she had not been a sight to behold, what with her soiled clothes and face and a hairstyle that belonged more to a patient in an asylum. Still, the fire in her eyes, the blush of her cheeks and the sensuality of her lips taunted him.

  In his memory, at the Meryton Ball he had attended over a year ago on his visit to his dear friend Charles Bingley, Elizabeth had been no one to think twice about. Moreover, if she was below his station then, matters had worsened for her since, because she was now relegated to a mere servant and was even more removed from the social circles he traveled in. To that end, he should most certainly not think twice about her.

  And yet...

  Probably it had been his overall disposition of annoyance at having to attend a country ball back in Meryton that he had not allowed himself to truly see Miss Bennet for what she was like. His friend's insistence that she should make a fine dancing partner for him Darcy had dismissed as preposterous.

  However, with every next occasion on which their paths crossed since her arrival at Rosings, he saw new details about her spirit of character to admire and capture his fancy. She had been all but incredibly independent, courageous and vivacious.

  Such were his thoughts presently as he stood by a tall window in a second-floor corridor that faced out to Rosings Park. His eyes followed the progress of two shrouded figures down a lane that led out into the rose gardens that his aunt prided herself so much on.

  There was no mistake who the two figures were. Their slow, deliberate advance, the way the two bent over with laughter from time to time, the occasional pause for them to admire a bird or a plant were all evidence that the people were Miss Bennet and his cousin Anne, headed out to another short walk by the wood's edge.

  Ever since the doctor had recommended that Anne should be exposed to fresh air regularly, the two women left the house right after breakfast, punctual as clockwork. Mr. Darcy longed to follow them on their little, perhaps rather uneventful, excursions and hear what they were conversing about, what made them burst into laughter.

  No. What he craved was to listen in to what Miss Bennet was saying, to drink from her incandescent energy and slowly come alive the way his cousin obviously had done under her enthralling influence.

  While his thoughts were thus engaged, the two ladies disappeared behind a row of tall hedge.

  Mr. Darcy frowned. He proceeded down the hallway with reluctance. His aunt was probably waiting for him already, her tea cooling in its untouched cup. Darcy had anticipated the conversation that was to take place between them for some time now.

  After all, he had been a guest at Rosings for the better part of a month and he had not yet addressed the single mission that had brought him here.

  He was to get a wife.

  Surely, he had visited Rosings on previous occasions and stayed for much longer than the two-and-a-half weeks of his current stay, but there had not been any pressure placed on him to propose to his cousin, so he had lingered at the beautiful estate with pleasure.

  Now, however, a purpose for his visit had been established in numerous letters between Rosings and Pemberley previous to his arrival and his aunt was clearly growing impatient. Perhaps the thought made Darcy feel trapped and he longed to flee Rosings as soon as possible.

  From whichever angle he looked at it, he was not ready to marry Anne de Bourgh. Not yet, anyway.

  Upon his entrance, Lady Catherine closed the book she was reading and laid it on the tea table, then picked up her fan.

  "Fitzwilliam," she said sternly as she began to languidly fan herself against the heat in the room. "I believe we agreed to meet at half-past-ten." She produced a small timepiece from the lacy folds bundled over her bosom and looked at it intently.

  "Forgive me, Aunt," Darcy said. "I have lost track of time while laying out some plans for the coming days with Colonel Fitzwilliam."

  Why was it that his voice came out sheepish when he spoke with Lady Catherine, the way a schoolboy might sound in front of his strict teacher?

  "Ah, that's interesting," Lady Catherine said, pausing her fan. "And what might those plans include, if you do not mind me asking?"

  His Aunt was anything but merciful. She would use any opportunity to corner him, even when he made the most innocent of comments.

  "Riding routes mostly," Darcy s
aid, trying to hold his aunt's gaze without his voice faltering. Blast! He could swear there was not another person on Earth who intimidated him as much as she did. "A hunting trip perhaps. I would not like to miss out on my last chance to hunt for some boar this season."

  "Hm," Lady Catherine said and raised an eyebrow. "I am glad you find so many ways to amuse yourself around Rosings."

  Darcy narrowed his eyes only slightly. If he could count on one thing, it was that his aunt's words rarely meant what she was saying. So, was it possible that she had caught him staring at Elizabeth Bennet and was referring to this right now?

  "Oh, I have always enjoyed my visits here,” he said, trying to dissolve the tension. “I only wish that I could have enjoyed my cousin’s company more. I understand, however, that it is not possible for her to join us in our adventures in her condition and do not want to impose while she recuperates. I was so relieved to hear Dr. Morton’s assessment—”

  "No!" Lady Catherine suddenly snapped.

  Darcy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He had not known her to lose her temper easily.

  "I only meant to imply—" he started in an attempt to alleviate the tension.

  "Allow me to speak plainly," Lady Catherine interrupted him, apparently having lost every ounce of patience for her nephew. "You have been our guest for a fortnight and yet it has come to my attention that you have only twice paid a visit to Anne.

  “Considering that the two of you are to be married soon I believe you ought to be more attentive. Despite the numerous distractions that the estate might offer, I trust you would put aside those fleeting pleasures in favor of more meaningful pursuits. After all, you do not have much time."

  So, there would be no more games. Darcy felt an invisible noose tighten around his neck. He gulped for air while considering his aunt's words. What did she mean?

  "Whatever do you mean, Aunt? Am I no longer welcome to stay here?" he asked incredulously.

  Lady Catherine sighed.

  "But of course you are," she said with exasperation. "What I was referring to was Anne's health. Even though you have not been consistent with your visits to her chambers, you must at least be aware that she is firmly on a decline."

  "Despite Dr. Morton's claims that she is doing much better?"

  "I still take his assessment with a grain of salt. I know my own child and as much as it pains me to admit it, I see that she is dying."

  Darcy's eyes grew wide. He had not expected the grim prediction. It had been his impression that there was no immediate threat to Anne's life.

  "You must be aware," Lady Catherine continued mercilessly, "that it was your mother's wish, as well as mine, to see the two of you in a blessed union. Although she may not have lived to see that dream accomplished, at least I hope to be around long enough to witness the two of you come together."

  "My mother has never expressly stated to me—" Darcy said with a lump in his throat.

  "To you perhaps," Lady Catherine interrupted. "She used to be very open about her wishes in her conversations with me. To that end, it would be a shame that you would while away your time here when every minute is of the essence."

  Darcy let the wind ruffle his bare head as he galloped along on the back of his horse. He did not acknowledge the way his extremities grew numb with the chill. All that was on his mind were his aunt's last words.

  Yes, his beloved late mother might have hinted of her desire to see him married to Anne de Bourgh, but he had never thought that to be the only future she had envisioned for him. It had been cruel of Lady Catherine to bring up both his dead mother's name and his cousin's doomed fate all in the course of a single breath. If her intention had been to make him nearly suffocate with guilt, she had accomplished it.

  Next, as he neared the top of a hill and dug his spurs into his mount's sides to urge him downhill at flying speed, he thought of Anne. He did love the humble, quiet, meek girl he had grown up with. He also knew his feelings would never exceed those he felt for a dear sister. Neither Anne's name nor her image made his heart race and his mind cloud over with yearning.

  Not the way another name and face did...

  He shook his head and rode even faster, trying to escape his treacherous thoughts. Perhaps if he spent more time in his cousin's presence and devoted himself to getting to know her better in her adulthood, he could finally find the words to ask for her hand before it was too late.

  As cantered into the stable, covered in sweat and out of breath, he resolved to do just that. Especially, since marrying Anne would help his mother rest in peace.

  16

  Elizabeth parted the heavy curtains to let the morning sunlight in. With the coming of spring, the sun shone brighter and light flooded the dingy bedroom, transforming it.

  On a whim, Elizabeth asked, “Shall I open the windows, too?”

  “Why not?” came Miss Anne’s unexpected answer. Only two weeks earlier the girl would shy away from both light and fresh air the way an evil spirit would cringe in the presence of garlic or holy water.

  As soon as Elizabeth unlatched the window and pushed it open, a myriad of sounds and scents rushed inside the room to replace the stuffy atmosphere with the heady spirit of spring. Starlings, chaffinches and blackbirds swooped in the gardens below, their crisp songs invigorating the two young women. The tender perfume of the first roses caressed their nostrils. Green now dominated over brown and gray wherever they looked.

  Miss Anne pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and stood up to join Elizabeth by the window. This time she needed no help rising from the bed and crossing the room. Both women looked out silently, simply admiring the glorious day and thinking of ways to fill it with adventure.

  There had been an immense improvement in both Miss Anne’s health and disposition in the past few days and though no one directly credited her for it, Elizabeth smiled to herself every time she saw her mistress follow yet another little piece of advice she had dispensed to her. In her mind, Elizabeth attributed the quick progress solely to increased activity, exercise and regular exposure to fresh air.

  The young girl now insisted on getting dressed and ready for the day in the morning, a ritual she had missed and which she now looked forward to. It was not that she had completely let go of her appearance over the prolonged period she had been bound to the bed, but she had not taken any pleasure in selecting one of her numerous gowns to wear or pick out the best combs, hairpins and jewelry to match it.

  Now, she was once again excited to look her best and it showed in her posture, her gait and her confidence. Next to her mistress, Elizabeth felt like a sparrow next to a goldfinch with her rather dull wardrobe and usually simple hairstyles and accessories but that was her position now. She had no place indulging the odd instances when she wished she looked better.

  Though she did not like to admit it to herself, those usually occurred in the presence of a certain gentleman…

  “What shall we do today?” Miss Anne asked with a mischievous curl of her lips. She had grown quite dependent on Elizabeth to provide the ideas for how they spent their time and the latter never came short. Whether it was birdwatching, gathering wildflowers or taking their easels to the stone benches by the pond, Miss Anne seemed thrilled by any of Elizabeth’s suggestions.

  “How about we try to walk to the hunting lodge in the deer park this time,” Elizabeth said cautiously. “We have never been able to reach it previously and it looks like a fine day to stretch our legs a bit further.”

  “Ah, just the thought makes my stomach feel tight.”

  Elizabeth studied her mistress with a sideways glance. Was she going too fast? Was she not pushing her too much despite Miss Anne still being too frail? Did the young woman’s enthusiasm for new adventure not match her physical condition yet?

  “I understand if you might not feel up for it,” Elizabeth said. “Is the thought of walking that far making you nervous?”

  “What? No!” Miss Anne exclaimed. “I only meant my s
tomach is rumbling with hunger when I think of the energy we will need to get there. I simply love the idea!”

  Elizabeth exhaled. There was no reason to worry. Miss Anne was probably a better judge of how much she could do or how far she could go than any concerned onlooker could ever hope to be.

  This was another new thing that now occurred with regularity at Rosings. Miss Anne insisted on coming downstairs for both breakfast and dinner to the utter delight of the entire household. Perhaps only her mother scowled with disapproval but she had not yet voiced it.

  “In fact, I might have an even better idea,” Miss Anne said.

  “Oh?” Elizabeth was surprised. She thought walking to the hunting lodge was about the boldest thing they could attempt, given the circumstances. “And what might that be?” she asked curiously.

  “I feel like going for a ride.”

  “In a carriage you mean?”

  Miss Anne giggled playfully.

  “No,” she said, her voice laced with impatience. “On horseback.”

  Elizabeth considered her with a look of horror screwing up her features.

  “But don’t you think it might still be—” she started cautiously.

  “I used to love riding,” Miss Anne said dreamily, disregarding Elizabeth’s half-voiced protest. “Before my health took a turn for the worse, I used to ride every day. It was the high point of my day and I looked forward to it the moment I rose from bed. It would be so invigorating to saddle up my Thunderclap again and let her go for a stretch. I bet she has become just as sick and bored as myself with no one tending to her for so long.”

  “Surely your mare has been well taken care of in your absence,” Elizabeth said and walked over to a chair to sit.

  “Not the way her mistress would tend to her,” Miss Anne said and looked longingly into the distance.