Only Mr. Darcy Will Do (19 page)

“Come with me,” he said, releasing her shoulders but grasping one of her hands firmly in his as he turned toward the infirmary. She had no option but to follow.

As they walked down the hall, his strides were long and hurried. To keep up with him, Elizabeth took several steps to his one. “What has happened?” she asked again.

At the sound of her voice, he seemed to relax slightly, his grip loosening and his stride slowing. Turning his head, he answered, “There has been an accident.”

When they came to the infirmary door, he stopped. He gazed down at her hand, and she thought he gave it a gentle squeeze, but kept it firmly in his. “Mr. Hamilton has been injured.”

Her eyes widened in concern, but she found it difficult to tend to his words when she was aware solely of her hand enveloped in his. “Is it… serious?”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “He will survive. His arm and shoulder were cut by some rocks. It is messy. I have sent for a doctor, but I can use your help until he arrives.” His eyes searched hers as he waited for an answer.

“I will do what I can.”

“I know you will.” He paused and pressed his lips tightly together before continuing. “Miss Bennet, I do not want word of this spreading. There is already
enough
concern about our being out there.”

“I understand.” Elizabeth felt a strong reference to Rosalyn in his admonition. Her fears had come to fruition, although it had not been Mr. Darcy who injured himself, but Mr. Hamilton.

“Good.” He took in a deep breath. “Please do not think ill of me for asking you to help me with this. Many of our maidservants would not do well with this type of injury. In addition to having much more to do in caring for the tenants, I did not wish to impose on them, Mrs. Reynolds, or my sister.”

“I do not mind.”

He nodded slowly as he looked down briefly at their hands before finally releasing hers. He exhaled slowly. She felt he was going to say something and waited, looking at his face expectantly. She saw conflict in his face as he furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw. Finally, he said, “Let us go in, then.”

They waited no longer and entered the room. Mr. Hamilton was lying on the bed; a servant Elizabeth recognized from around Pemberley was pressing tightly against a cloth that extended from his upper arm to his shoulder. The servant nodded at Darcy and Elizabeth.

Hamilton peered up at them, grimacing at the movement, but it was quickly replaced by a weak smile. “Miss Bennet, have you come to nurse me back to health?”

Elizabeth walked over to him, glancing briefly at his bloodstained shirt. “I assume this was not another struggle with a fish!”

Hamilton laughed. “Unfortunately it was another rock!”

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “What shall I do?”

He pointed to some clean, dry cloths and a basin of water. “I will need you to clean the wound. Mr. Peyton, here, is tightly applying pressure to help stop the flow.”

As she walked over to soak some cloths, she asked what happened.

“I was probably taking my horse too quickly down an embankment, and he tumbled, throwing me against some rocks.”

“Probably?” Darcy said incredulously. “You
definitely
were taking your horse too quickly down a mud-filled, water-laden, unstable hillside.”

“How did the horse fare?” Elizabeth asked teasingly.

“Better than me!” Hamilton said. He turned to his cousin. “I am grateful you are here, Miss Bennet, for Darcy shows me no sympathy.”

Elizabeth returned with the cloths, lifting an eyebrow at Mr. Hamilton at his comment. The servant let up pressure to allow Elizabeth the ability to cleanse the area around the gash. When he did, an excessive flow of blood poured out, causing Elizabeth to sway unsteadily. Her head began to spin when strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders… again.

“Miss Bennet?”

“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy,” she said as she took in some deep breaths. “I did not expect it to be so…”

His face was close to hers, his eyes searching. “Pray forgive me, Miss Bennet. I should not have put you through this.”

Elizabeth waved her hand in the air. “No, no, I am well. Now.”

She took in another deep breath as she turned back to the wound and began to clean it. Her heart pounded so violently she wondered whether Mr. Darcy could hear it. He released her shoulders and walked over to a cupboard. As she saw the extent of the wound, she imagined that the doctor would be required to suture it to keep it closed.

Darcy brought over a bottle and held it over the wound. She looked up questioningly.

“Alcohol,” he said. “If you can wash away more of the blood, I will then pour this over the wound.”

They worked together well, Elizabeth savouring the close, caring presence of Mr. Darcy. While his cousin teased about how
un
caring Darcy was, she knew that indeed he was caring and that his cousin truly appreciated him. Darcy often looked up at Elizabeth and in quiet admiration nodded in thanks.

When she inquired about the condition of the tenants’ homes, they told her that one home was in imminent danger of being flooded, but the men had been working tenaciously to divert the waters by digging trenches and building up barricades with mud and trees, which they hoped would hold as the waters approached. She also found out that the man who they presumed had been swept away was found unharmed.

When the doctor finally arrived, he ordered everyone out of the room except, of course, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth walked to the door, and just as she was about to step out, she heard the familiar sound of Mr. Darcy’s voice call out her name.

“Miss Bennet,” he said softly.

She turned toward him. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” he told her. “I could not have done it without you.”

She smiled in acknowledgement of his words and walked out. For the first time since arriving here, she thought their day of departure would come too quickly.

It had been two days since the families had sought refuge at Pemberley, and the rains finally let up, the sun making a most welcomed appearance. Everyone was delighted that the prospect of returning home was near, but they would need to wait until the waters of the river receded a great deal before it was deemed safe enough.

Mr. Hamilton remained in his room, healing nicely from his wounds. Everyone had been told he was merely not feeling well, but it was expected that he would be recovered soon. As Mr. Darcy had first relayed this news at the breakfast table the day following the accident, he stole a knowing glance at Elizabeth. She returned a sly smile at his pretence of an excuse for his cousin’s absence.

That afternoon, as the sun poured its rays through the windows, Elizabeth felt a gaiety and a joy that she had not felt in quite a few days. Each time she passed a window, she gazed out, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, and eagerly anticipated exploring Pemberley’s magnificent grounds. They had less than a week remaining, and while she knew practically every inch of Pemberley’s house, save for one very private hall, she still wished to explore the splendid grounds.

That day while Emily napped, Elizabeth made her daily visit to the families in the north wing. As she opened the doors to the wing, she stepped through and found everyone hustling about. There was much excitement.

It was joyous confusion, and someone mentioned to her that they had just received word they would likely be able to return to their homes tomorrow afternoon. Before she could even utter a word expressing her delight, she heard a shriek, and the sound of little footsteps racing down the hall captured Elizabeth’s attention.

It was Rachel, and just as the little girl was about to collide into her, Elizabeth reached down and lovingly grasped her shoulders. “What is it, little one?” she asked.

“Look out!” she squealed. “There goes Misty!”

Elizabeth turned around abruptly, seeing the grey cat slither out the door through which she just entered. “Wait here, Rachel. I will go after her!”

Elizabeth stepped out the door and closed it behind her before moving into the hall. She turned, hoping to see where the cat went. She looked across the hall that led to the playroom and saw nothing. She turned her eyes down the main hall to her left. She caught a brief glimpse of Misty scampering around the far corner. Elizabeth walked as quickly as she could, calling the cat’s name. When she came to the corner, she turned and again looked around. Her heart pounded as she considered that the cat may have gone into any room, which would certainly cause more than a little disruption.

A slight movement caught her attention, and she looked up to see Misty going up the stairs. “Oh, no!” Elizabeth said softly and let out a frustrated sigh. She saw no one to ask for help, so she kept following the cat, calling her name softly.

“Misty, here, kitty! Here, kitty!” The cat stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down as if to see whether she was still being followed. Elizabeth stopped her movement and gently called her. “Come here, Misty.” Leaning over, she held out her hand, as if fingering some delectable morsel. Misty looked at her for a brief moment, and then turned and ran off again. She watched in dismay as the cat disappeared around the corner that led to Mr. Darcy’s private chambers.

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth’s eyes widened as her heart pounded mercilessly.

When Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs, she was out of breath and quite distressed. She knew Mrs. Reynolds would not be happy about a cat loose in the house. She also knew that venturing down this hall was completely forbidden to her. She stood at the corner of the hall looking down and debated what she ought to do.

When she spied Misty lying casually under a small table in the hallway, Elizabeth made a quick decision. She believed that she could easily catch the cat now if she approached her very calmly. At least all the doors along the hall were closed, and the worst that could happen was that the cat would run all the way to the end of the hall. Or… that someone would come up and find her here.

Her heart reminded her with every beat that she should stop and turn around. She deemed it prudent to call out for someone, just to alert anyone that might be up here that she needed help. “Hello? Is anyone here? Come here, Misty. Come here, kitty. Anyone?”

She walked slowly toward the cat, bending low and holding out her hand. How she wished she had thought to obtain a morsel of meat to entice the cat! “Here, Misty! Come to me!”

The cat eyed her from its reclined position, but Elizabeth could see by the look in Misty’s eyes that if she felt threatened at all, she would be up and gone in an instant. Elizabeth paused, making an attempt to soothe and reassure the cat. “Misty, I mean you no harm. Please, allow me to come pick you up! You…
we
… do not belong here!”

The sound of a door opening just opposite her caused her to scramble to her feet. Her face whitened in dismay as she found herself staring into the face of Mr. Darcy. His hair was wet and dishevelled and his shirttails were loose. Her face displayed her great sense of mortification, as his exhibited surprise. “Miss Bennet?”

“Please forgive me, Mr. Darcy. You must wonder… allow me to explain… you see…”

At that moment, Misty, startled by the opening door and Mr. Darcy’s presence, darted for the open door in which he stood. Both pairs of eyes widened as the cat rushed past Mr. Darcy, who made a futile attempt to snatch her up. In a shaky voice, Elizabeth blurted out, “Misty escaped from the north wing, and I was trying to retrieve her.”

Darcy turned to look into the room for the cat and then back at Elizabeth. He shook his head, the beginning of a smile slightly curving his lips. “Wait here. I believe she ran under the bed.”

He walked back in, calling the cat.

Elizabeth hesitantly took some steps toward the room, letting her gaze take in its beauty. With each step she took closer, she was able to see more and more. It was a massive room with a definite masculine look. Two large windows were framed with dark green window coverings. It reminded her of the dark green of Pemberley’s woods. She could see a plush chair in the corner of the room and a large bed covered with an intricately designed quilt in the same dark green, accented with navy blue, burgundy, and a milky white. Heavy wood furniture dotted the room, but did not overwhelm it.

She was no longer able to see Darcy but could hear him trying to coax the cat out from under his bed. She assumed he was on the other side on the floor. She stifled a nervous laugh that threatened to burst from her as she waited for him to rescue the cat—again.

At length, when he did not seem to have as much luck as he had getting her down from the tree, Elizabeth decided she had best leave before anyone came. He could always bring Misty downstairs once he retrieved her. Elizabeth was just about to suggest that when he stood up with cat in hand. As he turned and saw her at the door, he stopped and took in a sharp breath. His eyes darkened and did not leave her face.

He held Misty close to him, scratching the cat’s head as he slowly began to walk toward Elizabeth. He stopped when he was standing in front of her just inside the room. He said nothing.

Elizabeth could not determine from his demeanour whether or not he was angry with her for coming to this part of the house or angry at the cat, but his silence unnerved her. She took a very small step forward and, with every attempt at keeping her voice calm, said, “I will take her down.”

As Darcy stepped forward to bridge the final distance between them and handed the cat to her, he said in an uneven voice, “Miss Bennet, we must talk.”

As she wrapped her arms around Misty, she felt the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms. She knew she should not look up at him, for he would certainly see the strength of feeling she now had for him. But she could not help it and soon found herself gazing up into his face.

“Yes,” she said barely above a whisper, both their arms still wrapped around the cat. A noise at the end of the hall prompted Elizabeth to continue. “But not now… not
here
.” Her voice shook.

“No, not here,” he concurred, his voice gravelly. Reluctantly he pulled his arms from between her and the cat. “But soon.”

“Yes, soon,” Elizabeth answered, willing herself to turn her eyes from his.

“It would be best if you left before someone sees you and makes a wrong assumption.”

Elizabeth turned, eager to flee from this wing before anyone saw her, yet desiring to linger and gaze a little longer into Mr. Darcy’s eyes.

Elizabeth scurried toward the stairs, holding tightly onto the cat, her heart only now beginning to still since first coming up here in her pursuit of the feline. Her mind raced with a myriad of thoughts as she considered this past week. She shook her head as she thought back to her first day, when she encountered Mr. Darcy unexpectedly in his library. She had been mortified!

Now, when faced with a similar situation, she had all the assurance that Mr. Darcy thought no less of her and possibly still had those feelings of love he once had for her. He wished to talk with her! The very thought evoked feelings of both heightened anticipation and solemn dread, depending on what it was she imagined he wished to say. There was always the possibility that he wished to put her in her place and discourage any expectations she may have in securing his affections anew.

When she returned to the north wing with Misty, she encountered not only the women and children, but the men as well. Since the immediate threat of flooding was over, they had returned to get some much needed rest. Apparently Mr. Darcy had just returned when she encountered him.

Elizabeth quickly found Rachel, who was anxiously waiting for her return, and handed Misty to her. She admonished her to keep the cat in their room so she would not escape again, although the thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind that she would not mind chasing after her if she could encounter Mr. Darcy again. She surprised herself by giggling as she considered the state in which he had stepped from his room. She shook her head as she recalled how startled they both were.

She visited with Rachel and her mother for a while, holding the baby while they chatted. When Mr. Weber returned, she was happy to make his acquaintance. He told them how the rivers had receded sufficiently, and although still muddy, the road between Pemberley and their neighbourhood was well packed down and safe enough for the conveyance of the laden carriages.

That night at dinner, everyone was in the highest of spirits, confident that things would soon return to normal. The tenants would be leaving, and Mr. Darcy would no longer be occupied with the obligations that had been placed upon him.

While Rosalyn had disparaged it, Elizabeth appreciated how Mr. Darcy had taken it upon himself to ensure the safety of his tenants and their transition to Pemberley, and then took such prodigious measures to prevent damage to their homes. As Rosalyn had informed him—as inappropriate as her meddling was—he was certainly not required to go himself. But as Mrs. Reynolds had said, he was very good to his tenants, and this was a prime example—a tangible display—of his care and concern for them. That his good friend and cousin accompanied him was an indication of their respect for this man and his ways.

The attitudes of Mr. Darcy and the other two men were a stark contrast to those of the Willstones, from their disapproving remarks to their avoidance of all association with “those people” who were brought—
most unfortunately
—to Pemberley. She found their response surprising, especially as they were actually being critical of Mr. Darcy himself. Almost everything she had heard them say about the man up until now had been laden with praise.

It was Elizabeth’s recollection, however, of Rosalyn’s very first remarks to her that had caused her the greatest astonishment. Her praise of Mr. Darcy had included his generosity, and she had also confided that her own father had married beneath him. Certainly her response to the tenants’ plight and Mr. Darcy’s actions should have been tempered with a little more compassion.

While she now felt a very real sense of coldness from the Willstones and Rosalyn, and was expected to continue to abide by Mrs. Willstone’s admonition, she was encouraged by every glance and smile Mr. Darcy made in her direction. From across the table, he carried on conversations with his guests, but there were times when his eyes were solely directed at her.

At one point, they began discussing the possibility of an evening of musical entertainment by those who wished to perform. Elizabeth readily noticed the sparkle in Rosalyn’s eyes. This was the type of diversion she had longed for. Elizabeth knew she wished to perform with the hopes of impressing Mr. Darcy with her voice and playing. She did play and sing well, and Elizabeth knew she would likely be the star of the evening.

With his eyes directed at Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy asked, “Shall we anticipate the children’s involvement? I do not believe a child is ever too young to perform before a small party of acquaintances.”

Elizabeth looked first at Miss Bartley. She was eagerly nodding her head. “Gladys and Harriet have been practicing a duet on the pianoforte. I am sure they would be more than willing to exhibit.”

Darcy directed his next statement to Elizabeth. “Having heard Miss Emily sing to Miss Bennet’s playing, can we expect your participation as well?”

Elizabeth eagerly looked at Emily. “Shall we oblige Mr. Darcy?”

Emily looked from Elizabeth and then back to Mr. Darcy. “We have been practicing several pieces,” she said eagerly, nodding her head.

“Good!” he said, and then turned to Georgiana. “You shall pick the night, Georgie. Tomorrow night? The following night?”

Miss Darcy seemed to search her brother’s face for reassurance, perhaps even strength. He smiled at her, and she seemed to receive what it was she needed from him. Turning to the others at the table, she softly yet decidedly told everyone that there would be an evening of music in two nights.

Rosalyn’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Would it be possible to have it in the ballroom? I noticed a pianoforte in there when Mrs. Reynolds showed it to us.”