“Will you ask Bingley to deliver it?” Darcy requested. “Discreetly, if possible.”
Georgiana nodded, tucking the note into her pocket. “I shall give it to him myself.” She hesitated, then added softly, “You care for her deeply, don’t you?”
Darcy met his sister’s gaze steadily. “I do.”
“Then I hope she receives your note in the spirit intended,” Georgiana said, rising to leave. “Rest now, brother. Your strength will return quicker if you do not fight against your body’s needs.”
“I will sleep better knowing Miss Elizabeth is safe and her reputation is restored.”
Georgiana leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Brother, I know the truth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HER LADYSHIP’S ULTIMATUM
Elizabeth satat her father’s writing desk, sorting through her correspondence. The house was uncommonly quiet—Mary had gone to practice at the church, Kitty and Lydia were visiting Maria Lucas, and Jane and her mother had driven to Meryton for ribbons. Even her father had abandoned his library for a meeting with his steward.
Five days had passed since she and Jane left Netherfield. Every day, Bingley had sent a servant with news on Darcy’s condition. The ice baths and poultices have reduced his fever. However, Mr. Darcy hadn’t asked for her, and the servant could not give specifics.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh, miss,” Hill announced, appearing at the door of the study. “To see you.”
Elizabeth rose, disbelief warring with dismay. Lady Catherine, here at Longbourn? The very notion seemed absurd. But Elizabeth walked to the drawing room to meet her.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine pronounced her name as if it tasted unpleasant. She wore a dark green velvet traveling costume, and her walking stick tapped sharply against the floorboards as she advanced.
“Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth curtseyed. “This is an unexpected honor. I regret that my family is not home.”
“That is of no matter.” Lady Catherine’s gaze swept around the modest drawing room. “It is you with whom I wish to speak.”
Elizabeth gestured toward a chair. “Won’t you be seated? May I offer refreshment after your journey?”
“I require no refreshment.” Lady Catherine remained standing. “I am on my way to Rosings Park, having seen my nephew sufficiently recovered to no longer require my presence. Before departing Hertfordshire, I determined to address certain matters with you directly.”
Elizabeth’s heart quickened at the mention of Darcy. “I am pleased to hear Mr. Darcy continues to improve.”
“No thanks to the unorthodox treatments initially employed. My own healer’s methods proved far more efficacious than cold compresses and poetry readings.”
The dismissal of her care stung, but Elizabeth maintained a composed expression.
“I suggest we walk in your garden,” Lady Catherine continued with imperial authority. “What I have to say is best conducted in private.”
The request—or rather, command—surprised Elizabeth. What could Lady Catherine possibly have to say that required such privacy? Nevertheless, she nodded and led the way through the French doors to the garden path.
They walked in silence until they reached a secluded bench beneath an old oak tree, well away from the house. Lady Catherine stopped, fixing Elizabeth with a penetrating stare.
“Miss Bennet, I will come straight to the point. My nephew’s behavior during his fever has given rise to certain expectations that must be crushed immediately.”
Elizabeth met her gaze steadily. “I nursed Mr. Darcy through his fever at the request of Mr. Bingley and the surgeon. There are no expectations beyond competent care.”
“I did not come to discuss medical care,” Lady Catherine snapped. “I speak of my nephew’s delirious claim that you were his wife. That Pemberley was half yours. That you had promised to care for Georgiana.”
Heat rose in Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Mr. Darcy was extremely ill. Anything he said during his fever should be attributed to delirium, not rational thought.”
“Precisely,” Lady Catherine agreed, her tone triumphant. “I have come to ensure you harbor no expectations based on these fever-induced ravings.”
“What expectations could you be referring to?”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Do not play innocent with me, Miss Bennet. Young women of your station are well-versed in the art of entrapping gentlemen of fortune. My nephew’s weakened state presented an ideal opportunity for such schemes.”
