“Yes, shame on me.” He hiccupped. “This is not my finest hour, Miss Elizabeth. Or Miss Bennet. Or would you mind if I just called you ‘Elizabeth’? It is how I always think of you.”
“Are you drunk?” She huffed.
“I think I must be,” he mumbled. “If that cloud looks like something other than a bunny getting ready to hop away, then I suspect I have had too much to drink. Blast, Richard! Somehow or someway, this must be his fault. But I will fix this just like I will fix Wickham. Wretched Wickham is what I call him in my mind. He is the most wretched person I know. Do you think I am wretched, Elizabeth?”
Glancing up at the sky, there was no white fluffy rabbit visible. Rolling her eyes at their current situation, she was unsurprised when Mr. Darcy’s eyes slid closed. Hopefully, the time would pass more quickly if he slept.
The colonel was wise to give him alcohol. Anything that would dull the pain when the men tried to move Mr. Darcy was worth having him incapacitated now. The trip back to Rosings Park would jolt and jar him terribly. If only Mr. Darcy could sleep through it, but she doubted it.
In the meantime, what was she to do about him? She was so angry with his interference that she would gladly slap his jaw if he were not already so miserable. And that was another thing: How could she be angry at a man who apologized with genuine remorse?Ugh!He was a conundrum likely to send her to Bedlam if she spent any more time in his presence.
“Elizabeth, are you better now?” he asked softly but did not open his eyes. “You were in terrible pain when you left Netherfield Park.”
“From my fall?”
“Yes.”
“The headaches and dizziness lasted far longer than I wanted, but the nausea was only that day and the next. The pupil of my left eye stayed bigger than my right eye for weeks, it seemed, although I refused to look in a mirror. What lasted the longest was the confusion, the feeling that my brain was filled with London fog. Eventually, I recalled leaving Netherfield Park for a quick stroll around the lake. And I remembered you escorting me back. I wish I heard what you said to me while I was unconscious, Mr. Darcy, but I do not.”
He opened his eyes, his dark sapphire gaze directed at her and warmed her insides more than the sun. “Would you like to know what I remember most about that day?”
“What do you remember most about that day, sir?”
“Your eyelashes.”
He had to be well and truly inebriated to say such a thing. “Indeed?”
“Yes, ma’am. They lay against your cheeks, and they looked so long and thick that I wondered if you would have the strength to lift them after your injury. My fingers ached to touch them to see if they were indeed as weighty as they appeared. Proudly, I will tell you that I restrained myself.”
She laughed. “Oh, Mr. Darcy. Unlike me, I fear you will remember everything about this situation later, once the alcohol wears off, and you will think your tongue is unhinged.”
“I told you, or I think I told you, that I tried to forget you, Elizabeth. You are my Achilles’ heel, I fear.” He reached up to clasp her fingers in his. “I will never forget this day. I will always think upon it with pleasure.”
His eyes closed again. His breathing deepened. Within moments, the tension left his muscles until he relaxed completely against her.
To the emptiness surrounding them, she said, “I sincerely doubt that I will forget this day as well.”
Darcy achedfrom his elbow to his toes. His knee throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The rough ground underneath him pressed into his backside, causing further discomfort. Where was Richard? What was taking him so long?
He listened to hear any signs of his cousin approaching. Someone was humming a slow melody in minor notes. He smelled honeysuckle, his favorite spring flower. His mother? No!
Blinking, the lady’s face was angled away from him. Strong jaw. Pointed chin. Slender neck.Elizabeth.
Closing his eyes again so she would think he remained asleep, he marveled that she continued to hold him close. What did it mean? Was it Christian kindness? Or did it signify something more?
He needed to see her face. Shifting slightly, misery shot through him with the first flex of his muscles. Gasping from the pain, he held himself still, only to realize that the sun had shiftedwhile he was asleep, adding to his agony. The warm rays shone directly upon his face.
How long had he been asleep? Good lord, had he snored?
“Sir, I can hear the approach of a cart. Can you hear the wheels?”
“Indeed. Evidence that my aunt does not maintain Rosings to the extent she claims.” Darcy grimaced. “First the bridge, now the cart. What will be next, I cannot imagine?”
“Let us make a game of it, Mr. Darcy. I guarantee that it will make the arrival of help seem faster. I guess that the next sign that Lady Catherine has been remiss is that the shelves in the closets of the parsonage will sag.”
“Shelves in the closet? Why would my aunt do such an odd thing? How are garments supposed to hang with shelves in the way?”
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “You shall have to ask your aunt. Now, it is your turn to guess.”
