Chapter Fifteen

E lizabeth lay curled on her side, her arms and legs tucked into a ball in an attempt to warm herself. Though she had stopped shivering long before retiring to her chambers this evening, there was a part of her that remained chilled. Tears streaked down her face, leaving damp trails behind, but it was a silent weeping, the fear and grief of the day finally finding expression.

She had projected a stalwart resolve to the others. Even Lady Carlisle had nodded her approval of Elizabeth's steady nature. She had adopted her usual insouciance at dinner. And now, at last quiet and alone in the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she could allow the fa?ade to crumble.

A tremulous breath escaped her, and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, as if that would keep out the memories clawing at her. Pictures filled her mind anyway, Georgiana's pale, shocked face, the screams of the crowd, the hooves hitting the cobblestones like the increasing beat of a drum, the hungry flickering of orange and red flames licking the ceiling . . .

Elizabeth was startled awake when smoke filled her nostrils and stung her eyes. Flames travelled up the heavy drapery, consuming the wall coverings, working their way up and around her. She tried to sit up, tried to scream, but was hampered by the cloying stench of the smoke, her lungs aching and her eyes tearing so badly that she could not see.

"Help!" a girl cried, and Elizabeth knew the voice was Georgiana's. The girl coughed from deep in her chest. "Help me!"

Elizabeth forced her eyes open. Georgiana was in the bed now, and Elizabeth was standing beside it, shaking the girl, attempting to wake her. But she would not wake.

"We must leave!" Elizabeth cried, but it was no use. She struggled to pull Georgiana up and carry her over her shoulder, staggering to the window under the girl's lifeless weight. But how would they escape? She could not carry Georgiana down the stairs—the fire had beaten them there. She could not carry her out of the window, for there was no trellis, and she had no rope.

They were trapped.

Elizabeth set Georgiana down under the open window and then stuck her head outside, gulping in the clean air.

"Miss Elizabeth!" a male voice cried. It sounded so familiar . . . "Where are you?"

"Here!" she shouted, though it ended in a cough. "Here!"

"Lizzy?"

That was Jane. What was Jane doing here? She was supposed to lead the other girls out of the house.

"Lizzy, wake up!"

Elizabeth startled awake, her heart banging against her ribs, tendrils of hair clinging to her damp forehead. Gradually, the familiar outlines of her chamber at Carlisle House revealed themselves to her, helping her to focus and replacing the roar of flames with the muted crackle of a dying fire in the hearth. But the terror of her dream clung to her as closely as her chemise .

Jane's anxious face swam into view at her side, her sister's gentle hands capturing her own. "You were having a dreadful dream. You are safe now."

Her words were like water poured over the conflagration, leaving only steam behind. Elizabeth slowed her breathing even as her eyes darted feverishly about the room. The curtains were untouched, the wall hangings intact, the ceiling dark—no flames were consuming it.

"I was back at Mrs. Buxton's," Elizabeth said without prompting. "Only it was Georgiana who was left behind, and there was no trellis . . ."

"Oh, Lizzy, that does sound terrible. No wonder you were in such a state."

"Why now ?" Elizabeth moaned with frustration. "It has been so many years. I hardly ever dream about that night anymore."

"Lizzy," Jane said reprovingly. "Think of what happened today. Of course you would dream. And to-night—well, you know what to-night is."

Elizabeth sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I had forgotten, if you can believe it."

"It has been four years, Lizzy, and you had a terrible fright today. I think it a very good thing that you forgot."

" You did not."

"It is the night I nearly lost you, Lizzy. I shall probably never forget that." Jane took a deep breath. "And I will never forget today, either. It is something of a trial to be the sister of a woman as brave as you."

"Stop."

"No, Lizzy," her sister said, and slipped under the covers next to her. "You never allow me to say this, and on this night of all nights, I must. You are that rarest of creatures, Elizabeth Bennet, whose spirit is too large for her body. "

"Everything is too large for my body," Elizabeth muttered, and Jane laughed softly.

"And you can never bear for anything to grow too serious, particularly when someone is complimenting you. But allow me, this once, to tell you how much I admire you, dearest, and that I am not the only one." She nudged Elizabeth lightly. "Even Mr. Darcy must approve you now."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I suspect he must, though he is unlikely to appreciate the necessity."

Jane laughed a little harder this time. "You cannot tell me that you do not see it?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth was relieved that the dark would hide her blush.

"He was staring at you as though you were an angel come down to Earth to save his sister. If you were another sort of woman, you could have had him at the altar before he regained his senses."

She heard the man in her dream again. His voice had been low, rumbling, and familiar. She laughed at herself. She knew who it had been, and it was utter folly to believe he would ever come to save her from a burning building. He would come for his sister, perhaps. But he had been calling for her. She shook her head. It was just a dream, and it had been her dream, not his.

"Nonsense," she said, both to Jane and herself.

Jane pulled the covers up to her chin and bade Elizabeth to lie down again. Elizabeth shuddered, burrowed deeper under the covers and nestled into her sister's warmth. She was wrung out in the aftermath of her night terrors, but there was a single thought that would not allow her to rest.

If I had been even a moment slower . . .

Georgiana was unharmed. But for how long? Even putting aside whatever gossip or censure might come, could the girl be left to flounder without any female guidance in building her confidence? She simply could not remain so easily hurt or frightened if she intended to be out in London society. Ladies such as her own cousin would eviscerate her.

Elizabeth pondered that thought until sleep finally arrived.

A few days later, while they were preparing for a visit to Diana's home, Elizabeth heard a discreet rap against the door of her bedchamber.

"You may enter," she called.

The door swung inward to admit a maid, her face impassive. "Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but you have a caller below in the front drawing room." Her gaze lifted to Elizabeth's before dropping respectfully. "It is Mr. Darcy, requesting a brief audience with the Miss Bennets, if they are available and receiving visitors. Mr. Bingley is with him."

Elizabeth could see Jane's smile in the mirror. Mr. Bingley had come to call here nearly every day this week to see Jane. A Mr. Houghton, a Mr. Thomas, and a Sir John Markingham had also called—but unless they were blind, they would accept that Mr. Bingley had stolen the march on them.

As for Mr. Darcy's appearance, she was both unsurprised and curious. No doubt he was taking advantage of Mr. Bingley's call to speak to her about his sister.

She had experienced terrible dreams twice more since the incident, but she felt inexplicably steadied by the thought of him so near.

"Please inform Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy that we shall join them directly," she replied. As the maid withdrew, she stood. "I suspect I know Mr. Darcy's purpose in calling."

Jane frowned. "Lizzy, are you certain it is wise to see him so soon after the incident in the street? Perhaps another week . . ."

Elizabeth brushed her hands down her skirt. She had informed Jane how everything had happened, including how Mr. Darcy had held her. She had not told Jane how it had made her feel.

"Lady Carlisle is in. She would have told the gentlemen we were not at home had she not felt enough time had passed." There had been a good deal of gossip, but Lady Carlisle had been in her element as she armed her own highly placed friends with the true story and sent them out to spread it. Lady Henrietta was not portrayed in a friendly light. "I suspect Mr. Darcy's concern is for his sister, not me, and she is a sweet girl whom I wish to introduce to our little circle. I think a few unselfish friends might do her a world of good."

Mr. Darcy rose from his seat upon their entrance, his commanding figure creating an imposing silhouette against the grey light streaming in through the windows. Lady Carlisle and Amelia smiled at her and picked up their sewing.

"Mr. Bingley," Jane said from behind her, sounding pleased and shy.

"Miss Bennet," he greeted her. The pair moved quickly to a corner of the room to speak to one another with some semblance of privacy.

Elizabeth watched the couple as they retreated. Mr. Bingley held out a card with pink ribbon and lace—she had forgotten it was Valentine's Day but was pleased Mr. Bingley had recalled.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat softly. "I took advantage of Bingley's plans to attend Miss Bennet. I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all."

"My friend seems enamoured of your sister," Mr. Darcy said. "I admit that I have not been paying him much attention, so I was surprised to learn he had been here so often."

He came every Thursday, but also on Tuesdays, now. Lady Carlisle had assigned two maids and a footman to be near when she was out .

"You have no need to worry for him," Elizabeth said, ready to take offence on her sister's behalf.

"I meant nothing by it, Miss Elizabeth," he told her. "Bingley is a good man, and your sister is a good match for him."

Suddenly Elizabeth was feeling contrary. Had he come just to inspect her sister? "Because she is a gentleman's daughter with a fortune, Mr. Darcy?"

"Because Bingley is stalwart, Miss Elizabeth, but he is also a gentle man. He requires an intelligent, pleasant, kind wife. I do not know her well, I admit, but I think them well suited."

Elizabeth's cheeks grew warm, embarrassed that she had misjudged him, but if she was blushing, Mr. Darcy did not mention it. Instead, he drew in a deep breath.

"I came today for three reasons. First, to inquire as to your health."

"I am well, Mr. Darcy."

His gaze was sombre, and she wondered whether he saw through her still.

Eventually, he moved on. "I wish to again convey my profound gratitude for your swift action the other day. Georgiana is younger than me by more than ten years—she is nearly as much a daughter to me as a sister, and she is all that remains of my family. To give you my thanks is inadequate, I know, but you have them nonetheless." He cleared his throat. "And then, as I was thinking of all I owed you, it occurred to me that while I called on Lord Carlisle after my terrible insult at the Ashfords' ball, I never offered my regrets directly to you. I am both dreadfully sorry for that ungentlemanly utterance and the fact that my request for pardon has come a month late."

"I beg you not to dwell on obligations where none are required," she replied. "The insult, while not forgotten, has been long set aside. I will be impertinent now and say that because I knew you so little, your words caused no lasting wound." She offered him a little smile.

His expressive brows furrowed, his chin dipped, and the corner of his mouth turned up before he replied in a gentle tone, "The fact that you rightly gave my ridiculous words little credence does not excuse my speaking them." He lifted a hand as though he would run it through his hair but stopped himself in time. "I had not realised how much being in town for a proper season at last would feel so much like . . ." He frowned. "I did not visit today to tell you of my troubles."

"I would not make you uncomfortable, but I would be happy to listen. Hearing of your troubles might help distract me from my own," Elizabeth said quietly.

She glanced at Jane and Bingley, happily chatting about the card he had brought her while Lady Carlisle and Miss Hamilton remained unnaturally attentive to their sewing. Elizabeth strolled to a window in the corner opposite from Jane and Mr. Bingley, leaving her chaperones in the centre of the room. Mr. Darcy followed.

They stood together for a time, observing the garden. There was nothing much to see this time of year.

"It is the first time I have been in town for more than six weeks since my father's death," Mr. Darcy said. "In fact, I received the message alerting me to his accident while I was at the boarding house in Middlesex. The one where my cousin was recovering after the fire at Mrs. Buxton's?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "I had been in London, so was managing Lady Henrietta's care until her father could arrive." He clasped his hands behind his back.

This was unexpected. They had been in the same building for a time, years before. "Did you happen to see Jane or my father there?"

Darcy blinked. There had only been three girls remaining when he had arrived, two of them injured and a sister. The other girl's family was in residence, and once he had been assured that the other girl's family was in residence, he had not enquired further. "I believe I did see them, in passing. Miss Bennet was tending you and came to take your father upstairs. Were you badly injured?"

She shook her head. "A lingering cough, a bump to the head, and a broken arm. The trellis was too small to take our weight, but there was not enough time to descend one by one or to seek an alternative."

"My cousin said it detached from the side of the building as she climbed down," Mr. Darcy mused. "I never did understand how she managed to blacken her eye when Mrs. Buxton explained that she had fallen backwards." It was not a question, not really, and as they were having a rational, polite conversation, Elizabeth decided not to reveal that particular part of the story.

"Did you speak to my father at all?"

"No, he seemed engrossed in a book. But then, I was not there long," Mr. Darcy said. "My uncle had just arrived when I was called home to Pemberley. My father had perished in an accident. A bridge collapsed while he was on it."

"Oh, I am so sorry."

"It was shocking. He was in excellent health otherwise, and I had not expected to inherit for many years."

Elizabeth shook her head. It was a grievous thing, such a sudden loss. "I suppose it is not the sort of thing a young lady ought to consider, but I have wondered, from time to time, whether it is worse to die without the chance to make your farewells and to leave so many things undone, or to die of an illness with more time to prepare but also more time to suffer and to witness your loved ones suffering, too."

"My mother died of a long illness. I cannot say I recommend either. "

"No," she murmured. "No, of course not. And as your father's death was so unexpected, I imagine he left many parts of his business for you to complete?"

"He did. It took a great deal of time simply to sort everything out. Add to that my sister's grief and the estate's constant needs, and I believe this is the longest period I have experienced in town since it all happened. I cleared my schedule to spend time attending events, but it has left me at leisure to think about how my life would have been different if he was still here."

Elizabeth nodded. "I see." And she did. She thought she perhaps had answered the question of his behaviour early on. He was still grieving. "Now that you have a moment to breathe, it has caught you up."

"What has caught me?"

Though he asked the question, Elizabeth thought he might already know the answer.

"You never had a chance to mourn, Mr. Darcy. You were too busy caring for everyone else. But the feelings do not disappear, they are simply stored away in the recesses of our hearts, waiting for the moment they may be brought out, washed and wrung and hung to dry in the sun."

"My grief is akin to the laundry?"

She chuckled. "Nothing stays hidden forever, Mr. Darcy, not even our feelings. Eventually, everything must be brought out into the light."

"Otherwise, I become the bitter, unkind man you met at the Ashfords'?"

She turned her head to examine his expression. "Precisely. Now that you have exposed the feelings to sunlight, it may not be so difficult to move on. Of course, a few conversations will hardly be enough, but it grows easier with time."

He must have felt her gaze, for he turned to look at her. "It seems to me that you have some experience with the emotion. "

There was no denying that. "A great deal, as a matter of fact. I have lost four grandparents. Fortunately, no one in my immediate family has died. But sometimes it feels as though they have."

She had stymied him, for he did not seem to know what to say.

"I am sorry to hear it."

She believed that he was. How extraordinary. "What was your father like, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth inquired.

Mr. Darcy tipped his head very slightly to one side, questioning her change of direction, but not remarking upon it.

"My father was a good man, Miss Elizabeth. He was a diligent master and an attentive father. Not flawless by any means, but then, none among us are." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I recall when he taught Georgiana to ride. She was six, and I was a young man then, the summer before I left for Cambridge. We were to take her first ride around the lake, but she was suddenly afraid of a horse she had ridden several times before, and I was impatient to be off. My father took his time to reassure her, reminding her that she had already learned how to ride and that she was very accomplished at it. By the time we began our ride, Georgiana was confident again."

"You must have loved him very much."

"I did. His loss was a blow from which I shall never fully recover."

"You have my sincere condolences, Mr. Darcy."

His gaze was steady. "Thank you." He motioned back to the centre of the room, indicating that perhaps they ought to move back within the hearing of Lady Carlisle. Elizabeth acquiesced.

"I must presume that an old apology and my actions a few days ago are not the true purpose behind your visit, Mr. Darcy."

He helped her to sit and then took the chair across from her, absorbing her frank declaration before dipping his chin. "You are most discerning, Miss Elizabeth. Indeed, I came to you in hopes that we might move to mitigate any undue speculation about the incident."

"Undue speculation?" she inquired, arching one brow.

Mr. Darcy's mouth took on a familiar grim line as he regarded her.

"My sister is bearing up admirably, but you can well imagine that the gossips are portraying matters in a rather unflattering way. I do not believe your reputation or that of my sister has been tarnished yet, but there is talk about the way I assisted you from the street as well as Georgiana's state of mind."

Elizabeth was mildly amused that Mr. Darcy did not mention his own reputation. Gossip so very rarely blamed the man for anything. "I see." Absently, she worried her bottom lip. "And you believe that by solidifying a connection between our families, we might counter the meanest of the slander? That if the families are known to be friends, it would not be so scandalous that I rushed to Georgiana's aid or that you came to mine?"

The slight canting of his brow told her that she had understood his purpose.

"We have already made strides there, Mr. Darcy," Lady Carlisle interjected as she examined her embroidery perhaps too closely. "To protect Elizabeth, she must be made untouchable. We shall simply include your sister in the scheme. Elizabeth has already mentioned wishing to invite Miss Darcy to tea with her friends. Although she is not out, it would be best if she attended."

For all Elizabeth's initial trepidation about living with an earl and a countess, the Carlisles had proven to be true allies. They might have made a fuss about Mr. Bingley, as he was not a gentleman in the literal sense of owning property, but they saw how much Jane liked him and, after making some subtle inquiries about him, had offered their quiet support. She did not believe a Mr. Bingley would otherwise be allowed to enter Carlisle House for a social call, and yet he was a regular visitor now.

Elizabeth chuckled a little under her breath as she toyed with her sleeve. "As you see, Mr. Darcy, Lady Carlisle has everything well in hand. I suppose I ought to begin speaking of Mr. Darcy as my closest confidante and dearest friend?"

"Really, Elizabeth," Lady Carlisle chastised. But she smiled as she said it. She appeared to be enjoying herself. "Elevating the association between the Darcy and Carlisle families will effectively counter any malicious gossip, particularly when we mention Lord Carlisle's friendship with Lord Matlock. I was also a friend of Mr. Darcy's mother Lady Anne, and that ought to be enough to fix the idea of a deep connection in the ton's imaginations."

"And how shall we explain the insult away?" Elizabeth asked. "Would my dearest friend lay such a charge at my feet?"

"He was concerned you were taking advantage of us. Lord Carlisle simply informed Mr. Darcy that he was wrong."

Elizabeth tipped her head in confirmation. Lady Carlisle had thought of everything. "Very well, then. I shall endeavour to explain the Carlisle family's long friendship with the Darcy scion." Her mouth tugged up at one corner. "Mr. Darcy, I have counted you among my very dearest and most valued friends from almost the moment we met."

"That is doing it a bit brown," Amelia said with a laugh, her head still bent to her work.

"Language, Amelia," Lady Carlisle warned.

"Yes, Aunt."

"Our association," Mr. Darcy said with a smile, "shall be reckoned among my most cherished, Miss Elizabeth. "

Her own smile widened. "The Carlisles and the Darcys have long had an accord, after all. It would be remiss of me to hold a grudge for a few careless words in the face of this ancient and worthy relationship."

Even Lady Carlisle had to smother a little laugh.

Mr. Darcy regarded her for a time in thoughtful silence. "I would be pleased, more than I can properly convey, to call you my friend, Miss Elizabeth."

He did not sound as though he was joking now. Despite everything, Elizabeth was not built for acrimony or sorrow. She inclined her head with a gracious warmth and said truthfully, "As would I, Mr. Darcy."