He smiled at her enthusiasm. “It did, almost instantly. The next morning the men awoke and told their servants to pack up, that they had enough and were going back to the house, that they had never slept so poorly in all their years. Father returned that afternoon, and after they recuperated for a few nights at Pemberley, my uncles departed.”
“Ha! And I suppose she never had the mattresses replaced? Oh, how I believe I would have enjoyed your mother’s company. She sounds like a kindred spirit.” Miss Elizabeth laughed even harder and leaned back into the couch, allowing the blanket to slip off her shoulders. Darcy swallowed again at the sight of her bare shoulder aglow in the firelight.
He made no comment for a moment but then, “Yes. I do believe she would have adored you.” Restless, he stood to find a stronger drink in the kitchen then thought better of it. “So you see, El…Miss Bennet,” he said, making his way to the pot of tea, “I insist you take up my bed in the master’s chambers.”
“But… That isyourbed. I cannot…”
She blushed from her bosom to her ears and Darcy could hardly look away despite his embarrassment for yet another incriminating, unintentional innuendo. He quickly interjected, “I am not being forced to do anything I would not do for a friend.”
“You would do the same for Mr. Bingley? For Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“No, no. Bingley prefers the couch, and Fitzwilliam can sleep on anything after having chased Napoleon’s armies all over Europe.” He laughed at her jest. “No, Miss Bennet. You have caught me out. I would only make this offer to you.”
At that moment, she glanced up at him through her lashes; the fire making her eyes sparkle, almost took his breath away. “Then I accept, sir,” she said quietly.
Darcy nodded and walked to the cabinet.I do believe I will need that drink after all.
* * *
The ruckus causedby the late arrivals had finally calmed after Lady Catherine retired early, insisting Anne follow her within the hour. Colonel Fitzwilliam sat comfortably next to his cousin Georgiana and Miss Katherine in the parlor while Anne remained on the chair nearer the fire.
“Cousin, I am still confused,” Georgiana asked, “how you came to be at Pemberley? In this storm?”
“As are we, Sprout,” he said ruefully, smiling at Anne. “We are all aware of the persuasive tactics which our aunt uses to achieve her goals. I am afraid we were coerced into visiting Pemberley. Apparently, she received a letter of some importance from Darcy and she claimed she must speak to him in person.”
“Why did you not stay in an inn when the weather turned?” Miss Katherine asked, glancing at the swirling snow outside.
“Because my mother did not wish to stay in an inn when the pleasures of Pemberley were a short five miles away.”
He snorted at Anne’s reply. “A short five miles away. I think the driver and footmen were icicles stuck to the carriage. Those poor devils! But who am I to question my aunt when a more important concern is before us.” Turning to Miss Katherine, he continued. “I am certain your sister is well. She is a bright, strong woman who has impressed me with her resourcefulness, and I am certain in her tramp through the countryside, she came upon a tenant’s cottage and now sits amongst their family, playing with their children, and helping put them to bed.”
“Do you think so, Colonel?”
“I do, Miss Katherine. And I look forward to being here when the joyful reunion takes place.”
* * *
“Iseeyou are engrossed in Wordsworth. Is he a favorite of yours?”
It was quite late, and the storm had not relented outside, only adding to the isolating atmosphere. Mr. Darcy was reclining in the chair, more at ease than Lizzy had ever seen him before, his glass dangling over the arm rest in his fingertips, his shirt collar open, his hair disheveled, and his leg crossed over his knee. Her attempts to not stare were in vain. She was grateful, however, her open admiration and curiosity seemed to go unnoticed.
They had spoken of numerous topics, exhausting the obvious, and now they seemed to have settled into a comfortable silence, each having taken up a book—Mr. Darcy choosing “The History of British Warfare” and Elizabeth with the poetry book by William Wordsworth she had discovered earlier.
Smiling at the inscription,For my dear Fitzwilliam. You are my Joy. Forever yours, Mother, she closed the book and said, “I do enjoy Wordsworth but must say that tonight I am more in the mood for a gothic novel. Does it not seem as if our situation would be ideal for Miss Radcliffe to compose a new tale? A low fire burning, the wind howling outside. Our circumstances are perfect, are they not?”
He smiled, the twinkle in his eye evident. “Yes, but I would not welcome visits from ghosts or tyrannical adversaries in an effort to keep you safe. I am much more content viewing our situation while sitting by the fire in a warm lodge with my only concern that we shall have enough firewood to get through all of tomorrow if necessary. Besides, Miss Bennet, I am not the romantic hero type—I am sure Miss Radcliffe would discount me from her list of possible protagonists immediately.”
“And why is that, Mr. Darcy?” She laughed, resting the book on her lap. “Do you not have heroic qualities?”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, I suppose I have been described as brooding.”
“Yes, that is true, but that is not the only aspect of heroes in novels.” She tapped her finger on a crooked smile. “He must also attempt to protect the virtuous maid while being gallant, honorable, and handsome.”
“Am I to understand you find me handsome, Miss Bennet?”
Lizzy felt her cheeks glow. “No… I mean to say…yes. That is… that is not what I meant, Mr. Darcy.”
He enjoyed watching her fluster.Her skin turns the most lovely shade of rose. He took a drink, feeling more than the burn from the spirits warm him to his toes.
