Chapter Nine

Fall 1811

T he next morning, Mr. Darcy's gloomy ruminations on Georgiana's fate were interrupted by the happy sight of Miss Elizabeth alone in the breakfast room. There were not even any servants in sight. "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. I trust you slept well?"

She shook her head. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I confess that I did not sleep much; I spent most of the night trying to cool Jane down with wet cloths."

"Was there not a maid who could help you?"

"There was, yes; Martha was by my side for many hours, bringing cool water up from the kitchen, but I sent her off to sleep."

"Why could she not continue on and let you sleep?"

"Because I have the luxury of being allowed to rest today if I need to do so, while Martha would not be given that same privilege."

"It speaks well of you that you are concerned about her."

She looked at him in surprise. "Are you not concerned for your servants, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am, of course; but I rarely meet a lady in my circle of acquaintances who feels the same."

"I would say that you need better acquaintances," she said, crisply, and she rose to leave.

"No, please –"

She paused, one eyebrow raised enquiringly.

"Can you not stay just a bit longer?" He could not believe that he was importuning her in such a way, but he could not seem to help himself.

She hesitated and then sat down again.

He went on. "I know I should apologise for speaking so freely with you last night in the library; in truth, talking with you made me feel so much better, so much less…" And he found himself bereft of speech.

"Do you not have many friends, Mr. Darcy?"

He considered that. Friends? "Well, yes, Bingley is a good friend."

"Have you confided in him about what happened to your sister?"

"No, of course not."

"Why of course?"

"Because if it gets out, then the Darcy name is ruined!"

She looked at him for a moment, and then spoke softly. "But by not speaking about it, you are causing yourself harm. It is not healthy to keep things suppressed in such a manner. Also, may I say that you have spoken about your grief and sorrow, but I would not be surprised if you were angry as well."

"Angry?"

"Yes. And keeping all that inside will hurt you.'"

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst came into the breakfast room together. Mr. Darcy could not help the growl that escaped him at this intrusion. Was there no way to speak to Miss Elizabeth without interruption?

Elizabeth left the room after wishing everyone a good day, and went back up to Jane, who was still sleeping soundly. Elizabeth sat on a chair near the bed, trying to interest herself in the volume of poetry she had taken from the library the night before.

But she could not stop thinking of Mr. Darcy. He was quite the handsomest man she had ever met. Truly, with his dark, curling hair and dark eyes, he looked like a hero from a book. He was quite tall, with broad shoulders, and muscular calves that she was certain owed nothing to padding.

She sighed and went back to her book.