Chapter Fifteen

January 6, 1811

Pemberley

Derbyshire

Darcy

Darcy sat by Georgiana’s bedside, reading aloud from one of her favourite novels. She lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed as she listened. Though she was on the mend now, the last week had been filled with worry. Georgiana had caught a cold just after Christmas, and it had swiftly worsened. Her sniffles had turned into deep, wet coughs that wracked her body as she struggled to breathe. Day after day, Darcy remained at her side as she battled the fever that seemed determined to claim her life. Finally, the night before, her fever had broken, and she had slept peacefully for the first time in days. Now, she half-listened to her brother’s reading as her breathing gradually evened out. Her head relaxed into the pillow, and sleep overcame her.

“Get some rest, Master Fitzwilliam,” Mrs Reynolds urged, placing a hand on his shoulder and patting it tenderly. The familiar gesture soothed him; he had known the loyal housekeeper since he was four years old, and he held her in high esteem. “Miss Darcy will still be here when you wake,” she continued. “I’ll keep an eye on her. It will do none of us any good if you fall ill too.”

“Very well, Mrs Reynolds,” Darcy replied, rising to his feet. “You always know best.”

“That I do. Best that you never forget it,” she replied, waggling a finger at him—but her smile and twinkling eyes softened her words with kindness. Taking her master’s seat next to Georgiana’s bed, she set down the workbasket she carried and began mending an article of clothing with practised hands.

Darcy left the room—his valet awaited him in his bedchamber, and after shedding his restrictive clothing, he collapsed into his bed, succumbing to an exhausted slumber. A pair of fine eyes and the light and pleasing figure of Elizabeth Bennet filled Darcy’s dreams. Since seeing her at Hatchard’s, his nighttime imaginings had taken on a life of their own. Where once his mind had filled the gaps of his knowledge of her, now it refined his memories, engraving her image upon his very soul. Each time he woke, he longed to return to that dreamy realm where he could hold Elizabeth in his arms.

Even now, worn through as he was, Darcy could not elude her. His sleep was restful, yet still dominated by thoughts of Elizabeth. When he awoke, he yearned for her once more, but dutifully rose to attend his ablutions. Georgiana remained his priority. His fear for her life had not entirely abated, and he was eager to see for himself that her health still improved.

Mrs Reynolds had been true to her word and had not left Georgiana’s side all night. Darcy traded places with her, instructing his faithful housekeeper to seek her own bed for a few hours. When she made to demure, he gave her an imperious look, as though willing her to obey.

“None of that, Master,” she chortled. “The Darcy stare never worked on me when your father did it, and it shan’t work for you either. But never fear, I’ll do as you say. Heaven knows I could use the rest. These old bones do not sit up all night as well as they once did.”

“You are a treasure, Mrs Reynolds,” Darcy told her. “Thank you for your care.”

“I shall have a tray sent up if it pleases you,” she said with a glare that commanded he accept.

Darcy grinned and nodded. Mrs Reynolds took her work basket and left, leaving Darcy alone with his sister.

Georgiana stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Good morning, Fitzwilliam,” she said hoarsely.

“Good morning, poppet.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “How are you feeling today?”

“My throat hurts, but that is all,” she said. “The pain in my chest and the aches in my body are gone. How long was I…unaware?”

“It was nearly a se’ennight,” Darcy answered, his throat tightening with emotion. “I am beyond relieved that you are awake now. Would you like something to eat? Mrs Reynolds is sending up a tray.”

“I think some tea and toast would be agreeable.”

Darcy smiled. “And perhaps some broth later?”

Georgiana nodded. “Yes, that sounds lovely. Will you read to me after breakfast?”

“I can for a while, but then I must see to some business. Lady Catherine has written, and I need to pen a reply.”

“It displeased her we did not spend Christmas in Kent, did it not?” Georgiana smiled weakly. “I can only imagine how much angrier she would have been if I had fallen ill where Anne could have succumbed herself.”

Darcy chuckled. “You have taken her measure well. She wishes me to attend her as usual in April, but I intend to decline. I plan to review her estate books in late February, so that we can go to the Lake House in March. You would benefit from the sea air, and your needs must always come before her wants.” And it would mean resuming his letters to Elizabeth that much sooner.

“Your care for me is exemplary, brother. Thank you. Has Mrs Younge kept herself occupied?”

“She has. Your companion has gone to Lambton several times when the roads are clear enough, bringing back tisanes and tinctures. Her concern for you has been palpable. To know you are awake this morning will please her.”

A maid entered with the breakfast tray and set it down upon a small table Darcy drew nearer to the bed. He helped his sister with her tea and toast, delighted that she was able to eat two whole slices.

“I am tired now,” she said after finishing. “Go. My maid can see to me whilst you attend to your work. Mrs Younge can read to me if I awaken before you return.”

“Very well.” Darcy rose, bending to kiss his sister’s forehead. “I love you, Georgie. Sleep well.”

She was asleep before he reached the door.

~

Darcy’s thoughts drifted to Elizabeth as he struggled to answer his letters of business. It had been a long four months since her last letter, and it would be at least another two before he could return to Ramsgate. Was she pining for him as he was for her? He selfishly hoped so. There would be much to share when he was finally at the Lake House. Had her sister come through her confinement well? Was the babe thriving? And how would she respond when she learned he had seen her at Hatchard’s?

After completing his letters of business, he turned to Lady Catherine’s missive. Drawing it towards him, he read it again.

December 27, 1810

Darcy,

I am most seriously displeased that you chose to remain in Derbyshire for the festive season. Anne missed your presence dreadfully and was morose the entire month of December. How could you be so unfeeling and cruel? Your father and mother were never so callous, and they would weep at your behaviour.

Since I did not have the pleasure of your company this winter, I expect you here in April. You will review my estate books and then we shall finalise the plans for your and Anne’s wedding. She is nearing five-and-twenty, as you know, and you are not getting any younger either. You have had ample time to sow your wild oats, and now you must do your duty to your family. I shall not brook disappointment in this!

I shall have your usual rooms prepared and expect you no later than the tenth of April. I will not tolerate your refusal in this matter and will know how to act should you choose not to oblige me. Bring Georgiana with you. I must evaluate her progress in her education. A gentleman cannot possibly know what it takes to raise a young lady. You and Richard must be neglecting the finer details of her studies.

Write to me immediately.

Yours, etc.,

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

His aunt’s signature was all flourishes and embellishments. Trust Aunt Catherine to use her courtesy title even when writing to her family. Drawing a fresh sheet of vellum, he picked up his quill and began to compose his reply.

January 7, 1811

Dear Aunt Catherine,

I regret to inform you I cannot come to Rosings Park in April. Georgiana has been seriously ill, and my physician has recommended that we remove her to the seaside as soon as the roads are fit to be travelled. As such, my annual visit to your estate will commence in February, after which I shall take Georgiana to the Lake House in Ramsgate, where she might benefit from the sea air.

I do not mean to alarm you, madam. Your niece is recovering apace. I have personally seen to her care, and with the aid of my excellent housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, we never left Georgiana unattended for a moment. I expect to see marked improvement over the next few weeks and believe she will be ready to depart as soon as the roads are passable.

Our journey from Pemberley will be a slow one, to accommodate Georgiana’s condition, but I shall inform you when we reach London. Georgiana will remain in Town whilst I see to your books. She will visit the modiste for some new gowns—she has grown two inches since the summer.

After concluding my tasks at Rosings, I shall return to London to collect my sister and her companion, and we will make our way to Ramsgate for the summer. I extend my apologies if this change in plans disrupts yours.

Until February, Aunt.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

He signed his name with more force than was necessary before sanding and sealing the letter. Darcy made no mention of his aunt’s allusion to his wedding. He would not marry Anne. If he had not fallen in love with Elizabeth, duty might eventually have pushed him to offer for Anne. Thankfully, she disabused him of the notion years ago. His cousin had warned him not to ask for her hand, for she would refuse it if he did—Darcy had been relieved.

Business and estate matters consumed Darcy the remainder of the month. He worked closely with his steward to finalise plans for the spring planting, knowing he would not be present. A few tenant cottages needed repairs, and a winter storm had damaged a bridge. Through it all, Georgiana’s health steadily improved, though she still had a moist cough.

Mrs Younge proved a dutiful companion, and Darcy appreciated her diligence in caring for his sister. She worked closely with Mrs Reynolds to see Georgiana well attended, and when the roads cleared enough for travel in February, there were hot bricks and plenty of rugs in the carriages to keep her charge comfortable.

Darcy delivered Georgiana and Mrs Younge to Darcy House before continuing to Rosings Park the following day. The visit was predictably intolerable, and Lady Catherine’s insistence that he marry his cousin began at dinner on the very day of his arrival.

“See how lovely Anne looks, Darcy?” she remarked, lifting her soup spoon to begin her meal. “A spring wedding would be just the thing; do you not agree?”

“Spring weddings are lovely, but I will not be marrying Anne,” Darcy replied evenly, not looking up from his delicious bowl of carrot soup.

Lady Catherine continued as if he had not spoken. “Mr Rawlings is getting on in years, but he can officiate your wedding. Late April would be ideal. The flowers will bloom then, and we will not need to send to London for them.”

“Lady Catherine, I will not be marrying Anne,” Darcy repeated firmly. “If you persist in this vein, I will depart in the morning and send my uncle to review your accounts.”

“Why do you resist?” she blustered. “It is an ideal match on both sides. Anne is a wealthy heiress, and you are a wealthy landowner. Together, your fortunes will rival a duke’s.”

“I care not for wealth, madam. My cousin and I hold each other in mutual regard, but we lack the sentiments to become man and wife.” He sipped his soup before continuing. “I value Anne’s happiness, as well as my own, and you will not sway me.”

“Anne expects your proposal!” Lady Catherine insisted.

“No, Mama, I do not,” Anne said quietly from the other side of the table. “I love Darcy, but not in that way.”

“Love has nothing to do with marriage! It is a business arrangement, designed to unite wealth and elevate standing. If love is what you seek, then you are a fool.” Lady Catherine sniffed imperiously.

“Be that as it may, I will not marry my cousin,” Darcy repeated. When his aunt made to contradict him yet again, Darcy slammed his hand on the table, causing the china to rattle, Anne to startle in her seat, and his aunt to fall silent. “Not another word,” he said sharply. “If you broach this topic again, I will depart at once.”

Lady Catherine’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing further. The meal concluded in silence, and Darcy excused himself immediately afterwards, citing exhaustion from his journey, though he did feel bad for having behaved so aggressively during dinner

Darcy completed the account review in record time. He was determined not to remain at Rosings Park any longer than absolutely necessary, and by the eighteenth of February, he was on his way back to London to retrieve Georgiana.

His sister, with the help of Mrs Younge and Lady Matlock, had completed her shopping and was ready to depart for the Lake House as soon as Darcy gave the command. Seeing no reason to delay, they began the four-day journey on the twentieth of the month. Darcy spent much of the trip with his portable writing desk on his lap, composing a long letter to Elizabeth. He intended to place the completed missive on the salver the moment he entered the Lake House.

A cold breeze greeted them when his equipage finally trundled to a stop. He took in the green railing and chuckled at the sight of the feline tracks scattered across the threshold. The memory seemed humourous now, and he wondered if Elizabeth thought of him whenever she saw those green tracks.

“Greetings, Smythe,” he said cheerfully, handing his coat and gloves to the butler. “I trust there is a fire in the parlour. We are chilled to the bone and Miss Darcy is in need of warmth.”

“All is ready, sir,” Smythe replied. “Cook has a tea tray waiting to be served at your request, and fires have been lit in all your chambers.”

“Very good. This is Mrs Younge, Miss Darcy’s companion. Have rooms been readied for her?”

“Yes, Mr Darcy. The blue room and the adjoining sitting room on the third floor has been prepared. I hope that is acceptable?”

“It is. Have Mrs Palmer show the way, will you? Georgiana, Mrs Younge, shall we have tea in a half an hour?”

The ladies agreed and followed Mrs Palmer upstairs. Darcy pulled the letter to Elizabeth from his pocket, kissed it for good measure, and dropped it onto the salver as soon as Smythe turned away. If all went well, he would have a reply from Elizabeth in a day or so. He had waited for what seemed like an eternity, and now had only to wait a short while longer.