To my beloved Darcy upon our engagement. I am forever yours, Anne
She letout a soft gasp and quickly returned the watch to its original location—embarrassed to have discovered such an intimate gift.Such words of devotion from his future bride. How can he not love her?She began to question the enigma which was Fitzwilliam Darcy.How can he profess his admiration for me when he already has the heart of another?She shook her head, instantly thinking of Mr. Hamilton.But, I guess we do not always love those who love us? Mr. Darcy is a good man. An honorable man. Who is promised to another.
She sighed while deciding on a book of poems. Returning a heavy volume of “Beewick’s Book of British Birds,” she ignored the ladder, and stood on her tiptoes to place it flat on the shelf above her head. As she pushed it back with her fingertips, she felt a presence in the room and turned to see Mr. Darcy standing in the doorway observing her.
She started at the unexpected sight and inadvertently pushed the heavy volume off the shelf, crying in pain as the book hit her temple, knocking her to the floor.
He reached her with two quick strides. “Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet, are you well?”
“Yes, I believe so. I…” She reached up to touch her head and found her fingers covered in blood. “I…my head is spinning. Please forgive me,” she said as she slumped against him and closed her eyes.
“Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet, can you hear me?” He lightly stroked her cheek.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “It is only my head that throbs.” She opened her eyes to find Mr. Darcy leaning over her as she lay on the couch in the library.
Grabbing the decanter and napkin from the sideboard, he splashed the cloth with brandy before pressing it tenderly against her wound.
“Are you comfortable?” Kneeling beside her, he said, “Shall I get you something to ease your pain? A glass of wine perhaps?”
“No, thank you.”
She could not describe the warmth that spread through her as he retrieved the rug from the back of the couch and tucked it around her person. She attempted to ignore the intimacy of the act. He knelt beside her again and softly whispered, “Will that do?”
“Yes.” The room was bathed in a warm glow from the fire which only added to the atmosphere. Her eyes, at first drawn to his open shirt, met his. She blushed at her own state of undress and drew the rug up to her chin.
He dabbed gently at her head again.
“It appears to have stopped bleeding.”
“So it has,” she answered, feeling his breath on her check as he spoke. She closed her eyes to block out the image he presented to her: a tender lover administering to his beloved. “I believe I should attempt to go to my chambers.”
“Madam, you can barely sit up, let alone walk. Allow me to assist you, and then I will summon your maid.”
“Sir, I am grateful for your aid… But what would be inferred to the household if you awaken my maid at three in the morning and I have a wound on my head and you in—” she looked at his state of undress “—a night shirt?”
“Very well. Shall we sit here for a moment longer, then?”
“Yes, I think that would do well.”
They allowed the silence to envelop them. She was certain he could hear the beating of her heart. He noticed his watch resting on the table and quickly walked over to retrieve it.
“I saw your timepiece when I came in this evening. It is exquisite.”
“It is. It is one of my favorite possessions.” To Lizzy’s surprise, he opened it and lovingly fingered the inscription. “This image on the front is of my home, Pemberley. It was a very thoughtful gift, was it not?”
“Yes, yes it was.” A feeling she could only assume was jealousy began to rise and ignoring the pounding in her head, she forced herself to a sitting position.
“Sir. I believe I am ready to return to my chambers. No, no,” she interjected as he cut the distance between them and attempted to grasp her arm. “I am grateful for your service but am able to manage well enough alone.”
“Will you please allow me to help you?”
“No, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate your effort but have no wish to jeopardize our situations. Good night.” She lifted her chin and as defiantly as one might with a splitting headache, began the trek to her room. She could feel his presence following her and heard his breathing as she made her way up the stairs but he allowed her to complete the task unassisted.
“Goodnight, Mr. Darcy,” she said gruffly over her shoulder as she walked through her door and closed it behind her.
“Goodnight, Miss Bennet.”
* * *
