Too Close to Mr Darcy Read online

  "Has the doctor finished his visit with Miss de Bourgh?" Elizabeth asked, trying to sound nonchalant about her unusual circumstances.

  "He is expecting you in the parlor," Miss Ashburn said, flashing a glance at Mr. Darcy who stood stoically by Elizabeth's side, his face betraying nothing of what he thought or felt.

  "You must excuse me, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with a quick curtsy. "I am expected elsewhere."

  "Very well," Mr. Darcy said, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I hope we can resume our discussion later.”

  As she followed Miss Ashburn out of the library and down the hallway towards the parlor, Elizabeth was more confused than ever by Mr. Darcy's demeanor. The man was a puzzle and one she was determined to stay away from.

  With her impressions of him oscillating between outrage and admiration, she could not count on herself to remain apathetic in his presence. Given that he was about to become engaged to her mistress, however, her feelings were not only utterly confusing.

  They were dangerous.

  12

  Over the course of the next week, Elizabeth settled into her new life. She started to become attuned to the invisible rhythm that governed life at Rosings. Her duties, the way Mrs. Byrd had described to her at length and which she attended to with as much precision as she could muster, did not appear in the least physically taxing or time-consuming.

  Mainly, she was expected to sit by her charge’s bed and provide an endless stream of light conversation: she related what had been said at the dinner table the previous night, what had gone on at Rosings or what gossip she had overheard from the servants (not that Elizabeth had a very keen ear for gossip, but she was starting to learn how to pick bits and pieces that might interest Miss de Bourgh).

  Occasionally, she would read aloud from the selected works Lady Catherine helpfully delivered to her daughter’s bedside every few days. Per her mistress’s instruction, Elizabeth would stoke the fire, dampen a cloth to place on the girl’s forehead or hand her a jar of medicine.

  At the end of each day, Elizabeth found herself with more than a spare moment to do as she pleased. She used every opportunity to visit the library and read, but only after she had made sure no one else would be disturbing her peace there.

  With the weather slightly improving, she took to walking again in the enormous Rosings Park, either alone or in the company of her newest friend, Miss Ashburn. Elizabeth found it easy to talk to Lady Catherine's young companion. Not only did they have a lot to discuss regarding their daily duties, but little by little the two started talking about the lives they had left behind in order to come to Rosings. With every passing day, Elizabeth felt closer to the young woman.

  Following the disaster of trying to steal a book from the library in order to forge an intimate connection with her mistress, Elizabeth had almost given up on the hope of being allowed to stay at Rosings. She had become convinced that Miss Anne had already complained at length about her incompetence to her mother.

  However, when she had gone to her room after having spoken to Dr. Morton that day, Elizabeth had found the exact tome she had selected in the library earlier lying on her dressing table. Her heart had fluttered at the realization that it must have been Mr. Darcy who had had it discreetly delivered to her. She had immediately stifled the warm feeling of gratitude that had flooded over her. She had commanded herself to adhere to her resolution to act and think as if Mr. Darcy did not exist at all. To that effect, she carefully avoided any occasion on which she might be stranded in his company and only acknowledged him minimally in order not to appear impolite.

  However, as much as she was reliant on her unwavering self-discipline to keep her mind sharp and her heart in check, she could not control her dreams. Nearly every night, the image of the tall, dark gentleman with his unrelenting gaze and broad, strong hands appeared uninvited and lingered until dawn. Elizabeth, weakened and disappointed in herself, splashed handful after handful of cold water over her eyes at the break of dawn, trying to erase the sinful scenes her own mind designed nightly to torture her.

  During the day, she threw herself into her obligations with such fervor and energy, so as not to allow any forbidden thoughts to appear in her mind.

  Her plan had worked after all. Miss Anne had been so thrilled to receive her illicit gift from the library that she had allowed herself to be bribed into liking her new companion. Little by little, the two young women had found a sort of understanding that made their days spent in the dark, suffocating bedchamber tolerable. They talked of books tirelessly while Elizabeth performed the treatments Dr. Morton had prescribed.

  Today, yet again she measured out the tinctures and potions she would feed her mistress and restocked the vial of mineral spa water. It had been a week since Elizabeth had commenced her duties and her fingers no longer stumbled over the wrong bottle of medicine or trembled as they poured out the precise dose of rhubarb to be dispensed.

  As she handed her mistress the glass of brown herbal brew, Elizabeth could not help but notice a slight change in Miss Anne's condition. She was no longer slouching into her pillows and was instead sitting erect, her tiny hands clasped in her lap. Her forehead was not beaded with sweat today and was dry and cool to the touch. Even her lips were not parched and cracked the way they usually were and the cup of tea that would normally rest untouched on the bedside table was now nearly finished. Elizabeth smiled to herself.

  "What are you smiling about?" Miss Anne asked, amused.

  "I was just thinking of something from back home," Elizabeth lied. "Something I was reminded of."

  "I will not pry," Miss Anne said with a sigh. "We have been so busy speaking of books and remedies that we have not had the time to talk about ourselves. I cannot expect you to suddenly tell me everything that is on your mind when I myself have not shared anything of importance with you yet."

  "Oh," Elizabeth said, flustered. "It was nothing so personal that I would be unwilling to share it." She summoned her memories from life before her parents' accident to select something suitable for the occasion to relate.

  "I am about to be married," Miss Anne said out of the blue, effectively jolting Elizabeth out of her thoughts. "Mr. Darcy has not proposed yet, but I know he will soon. That is why he is here."

  There was a finality in Miss Anne's voice, a resignation to a fate she could not avoid that made Elizabeth's heart ache for her. Judging from the young woman's tone, marriage was the last thing she wished for at the moment.

  Elizabeth could sympathize with the sentiment. Still, she was surprised to hear something so personal from her mistress. Instead of uttering a meaningless response out of politeness, Elizabeth remained quiet and let the girl continue. She had the feeling that her mistress had more to say.

  She was right. After a short pause, during which it looked as if Miss Anne was debating with herself as to how much to share, she spoke again.

  "Since his arrival, he has visited with me twice," she said and looked away towards the shielded-off window which provided no relief for her searching eyes. "I have known him since we were children and have thought nothing more of him than I would think of a dear brother. To that end, I love him dearly, but I do not think either of us would have much to gain from such a union. Not in the matters of the heart anyway."

  "You do not believe it is his wish to marry you either?" Elizabeth could not help herself. She hoped she was not being offensively inquisitive.

  "I believe he is as much in love with me as I am with him, but I should know better than to expect to be married for love."

  Elizabeth was shaken by the profound emotion emanating from the young woman's voice. She herself had long been convinced that she should not ever settle for a marriage that was not based on the foundation of true feelings.

  "Also..." Miss Anne suddenly bit her lip in hesitation. Then she took in a sharp breath and continued as if equipped with new courage to speak what was troubling her mind. "Ah, Miss Elizabeth. You come in here every day. You
see me and my daily routine. You know I eat in bed and pray in bed. How would you picture a man as vigorous and active as my cousin taking a wife as weak and unwell as myself? He would be better off marrying anybody else if he wished to have a worthwhile companion. Even you would make a better match for a man of his virility than I would."

  Elizabeth fumbled with the button on her glove, avoiding her mistress’s eyes for fear that she might detect the sudden mortification that was written on her face. Miss Anne had learned to be perceptive, however.

  "Forgive me," she said. "I have embarrassed you. It was not my intention. All I wanted to say was that if it were not for Mama's grand designs, I would not have to go through the humiliation of enduring Mr. Darcy's proposal."

  Elizabeth's mind had taken a forbidden flight with the seemingly innocent suggestion that she would make a good match for Mr. Darcy. Unable to stop the reverie from taking form, she pictured herself at the arm of the man who had been haunting her dreams for the past week. Thus illicitly engaged, she almost missed Miss Anne's last remark. However, she managed to return to reality through self-imposed discipline just in time to hear it.

  "You believe Lady Catherine is behind Mr. Darcy's wish to propose to you and not the man himself?" she asked breathlessly, completely aware that she was crossing a line. Suddenly, she was too desperate to know the answer to restrain herself.

  Unfortunately, Miss Anne's face had closed off. Her breathing was strained from too much talking once more and her eyelids drooped with exhaustion.

  "Miss Elizabeth, could you pass me some elderflower cordial?”

  Elizabeth fretted over the bedside table, preparing the remedy. She had become so encouraged by seeing the indisputable improvement in Miss Anne's health this morning and now it felt like her fault that it had so swiftly declined. It seemed that as soon as her mistress's mind became occupied with the burdensome subjects it wished to avoid, her health deteriorated and she reverted to the weak, melancholic patient Elizabeth had first met upon her arrival.

  As she passed the glass of murky yellow liquid to Miss Anne, she thought hard of how she might remedy the sudden downturn in the young woman's condition. Suddenly, she had an idea, but its accomplishment seemed close to impossible. Still, she should at least attempt it for she was certain that elderflower would do little to ameliorate Miss Anne's disposition.

  While Miss Anne obediently drank her potion, her breathing settled and the tremors in her hands eased.

  "And have you received any indication of when Mr. Darcy intends to propose?" Elizabeth asked casually, fully aware that she was treading dangerous waters again.

  A dark cloud passed over Miss Anne's previously serene face. She looked at her companion with wide eyes, reminding Elizabeth of a wounded doe.

  "I have been bound to this bed ever since he has arrived and have received all but two visits from him yet. In fact, you might have a better understanding of Mr. Darcy's intentions having the freedom to walk about and speak to other people than I could ever hope to gain."

  Elizabeth saw an unexpected opportunity in Miss Anne's words.

  "This is the precise reason I am asking," she said, her heart squeezed with trepidation. Her plan carried a lot of risk and she was still not certain if it was worth pursuing. Still, she hushed her voice and leaned closer to her mistress.

  "Only this morning at breakfast I heard him mention of his plans to visit you today. In fact, I believe he intended to make his appearance before luncheon."

  Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt for uttering such a blatant lie, but in her heart she knew she was doing it only in her mistress' best interest. Elizabeth held the firm conviction that if Miss Anne was to see any improvement in her health, she must, at any cost, leave the suffocating room she had been imprisoned in. In truth, Elizabeth herself had started to feel spent and sickly since she started spending her days cooped up in the bleak gloom of the bedchamber alongside Miss Anne.

  Meanwhile, Miss Anne's eyes grew wild with fear.

  "Ah! But I..." she stuttered. "I have not been given the time or the warning to prepare myself. I am in my nightgown still! What else could he ever want with me unless he wants to speak of this dreaded proposal? We have little else to talk about. And I am still not certain I can sincerely accept his offer. How could this turn any more humiliating for either of us? Oh, dear Miss Bennet, what should I do?"

  Elizabeth smiled deviously. She had expected just this particular question and had her answer ready.

  "You mean, you need more time to ruminate on your response?" she asked.

  "I do," Miss Anne said with a vigorous nod. "Oh, I do."

  "I might have an idea then."

  "Any suggestion you might have about how to avoid the doomed moment for at least a day longer, I would gladly accept. Anything would be preferable to having to face my cousin in the state I am currently in. Tell me, what do you have in mind?"

  Elizabeth did not respond right away. She allowed for a pause while smiling mysteriously to the effect of building nearly unbearable anticipation in her mistress.

  Then, she whispered, "What if Mr. Darcy does not find you in the only place he and everyone else in the house think of looking for you until you are ready to face him?"

  "Whatever do you have in mind?" Miss Anne eyed her suspiciously.

  "What if Mr. Darcy comes in here only to find an empty bed?”

  13

  The gentle crisp wind caressed Elizabeth's cheeks as she took step after firm step away from the grand house, her mistress in tow. She breathed in the fragrant scent of the morning air that carried notes of green moss and violets and felt her lungs expand and her entire body come alive. Blood rushed into her face and limbs, giving them color. The pleasant pinch brought a smile to her face and charged her with familiar energy.

  Miss Anne clung to Elizabeth's arm, hunched over like an old woman, her eyes wildly traveling over the scenery. She was bundled in several layers of thick clothing to protect her against the elements and their detrimental effect on her health. Or so she believed as she snuggled deeper into her pelisse and shawl.

  Elizabeth nearly dragged her mistress along the narrow pebbled path that led them under rosebush arches, through hedged-off gardens with stone benches, around marble fountains and out into the deer park. Before long, they’d wandered deep into the woods.

  Miss Anne was completely silent, stumbled often and clutched Elizabeth's arm with such intensity, the latter was certain she would incur bruises. Still, Elizabeth persisted. She was determined to take Miss Anne as far away into the park as possible, lest they were seen by a servant or any of the house's residents.

  The two of them had taken great care to dress so that they might not be recognized if they happened to come across another person. To that effect, Elizabeth wore a large cloak over her clothes. She had lent one of her own bonnets and a woolen shawl to her mistress.

  Eventually, taking steps as tiny as a bird's, the two subterfuge women reached a clearing bathed in sunlight. Elizabeth knew by the troubling sound of Miss Anne's wheezing breath that the two of them were due for a rest. It had not been a quarter of an hour of walking and to Elizabeth this was only a mild stretch of her aching for movement muscles, but she needed to take things gently with her mistress if she were not to scare her away from going outside ever again.

  In addition to minding Miss Anne's weight over her arm, Elizabeth carried the additional burden of a leather satchel slung over her shoulder and filled with the necessities she had thought of bringing at the last moment. She had packed a blanket, the jar of smelling salts, some food and water.

  "Shall we stop here?" she asked.

  Miss Anne nodded mutely.

  Only now Elizabeth dared to look at her when she was certain they had made it to a place where no one could spot them. Until now she had been solely concentrated on getting away from the house.

  Miss Anne did not look well. Instead of gaining color, her face was drained of any and she looked paler than in the di
m light of her bedroom. She squinted into the bright sunlight as if it burned her irises and nearly brought tears to her eyes. Every now and then, she would shiver despite her excessive attire.

  Elizabeth spread out the blanket on the warm, bright green grass after removing any pieces of rock and larger twigs that might make her mistress uncomfortable. She gently helped her to sit down and undo the tight knot on her bonnet, so she could breathe with ease.

  "How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked cautiously, though she could tell enough from her mistress' pained expression.

  "I do not know now whether, if given the choice again, I would prefer this torture to being proposed by Mr. Darcy." She frowned. "In my undergarments."

  Elizabeth was confused. She inspected Miss Anne's face carefully. Could she really hate the experience that much? Could fresh air truly be that detrimental to her? Then, slowly, she noticed her mistress' features start to morph until the young woman burst into laughter.

  Elizabeth exhaled and joined in, giving freedom to her pent up concerns. How could she be so preoccupied with worry to notice that Miss Anne was joking?

  "Look," she said and walked a few paces away from the blanket. She crouched down by a clump of bluebells. "Spring has arrived."

  There were so much happiness and excitement in her voice that it was contagious. Miss Anne smiled and, with much panting and wheezing, she got up from her seat and went to join Elizabeth.

  "It really is beautiful," she said after a moment of silence.

  Elizabeth finally felt encouraged. She put all of her energy into prolonging the moment of enjoyment her mistress had drawn from being among nature. Like a forest nymph, she started dancing and hopping around the small clearing, pointing to spring flowers having just emerged from the frozen ground or a piece of pale blue eggshell, eliciting quiet exclamations of wonder from Miss Anne.

  "It's a robin’s egg," Elizabeth said. "There might be a nest nearby. Let us look."