She pointed at it. “Spider!” It was all she could manage. His incredulity rendered her incoherent with hilarity thereafter.
“For God’s sake, woman,I feared something serious had befallen you! Again!” He looked in the direction she pointed with obvious disdain, though upon espying the long-legged colossus, ceded some ground, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Elizabeth’s sides hurt. “’Tis a monster! Kill it!”
“With what?” he cried, now laughing also.
“Stamp on it!”
“Not likely! I have bare feet!”
Elizabeth scrambled across the bed, grabbed an empty candlestick from her nightstand and threw it at the spider. It hit Darcy soundly on the leg, and she was reduced to making such gasping, snorting noises as only a person in the grip of hysterical laughter can make, somewhat ruining the credibility of her sputtered apology. Her mirth turned to a surprised shriek as Darcy abruptly launched himself over the monstrous beast and onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her as he landed, bringing them both crashing onto the mattress.
His laughter stilled first, though once Elizabeth observed his expression, hers ebbed also. Flickering candlelight threw every angle of his face into striking contrast with magnificent effect. It made her slightly breathless.
“Bonsoir,” she whispered.
His mouth twitched. “Bonsoir, mon amour.”
He brought his hand to caress her face, running his fingertips in a feather-light touch over her lips, her eyebrows, her cheeks. Then he gently pushed her hair behind her ear.
“I have not brushed it,” she said softly, wrinkling her nose in chagrin. “I expect I look wild.”
He nodded and held her gaze as his fingers blazed a trail down her neck to the edge of her robe. Nudging it open, he leant over her and kissed the bare skin of her shoulder. His touch, his warmth, his weight pressing her into the bed, ignited a now-familiar ache for which shehad no name but for which she had long since surmised the remedy. She moaned though it came out more like a purr.
“What great deed have I ever done to deserve you?” Darcy whispered, his voice rumbling deep and low in her ear.
“I know not.” She slid her arms around his shoulders. “Perhaps you ought to do another. Then we might both be certain that you do.”
He drew back and looked down at her. The intensity of his desire afforded him a severe mien. Her pulse quickened to be the object of it. He let go of her shoulder and took hold of her waist, his large, hot hand pulling her tightly against him. “Oh, I intend to make very,verycertain.”
The same day, Hertfordshire
Truly, Providence was set on persecuting Jane this day. By the time the Bingley party left Longbourn, hours after the Darcys thanks to her mother’s flutterings over the loss of two daughters in one day, she had begun to feel a very persistent discomfort in her abdomen. To her utter dismay upon arriving at Netherfield, she was forced to retire immediately to her new bedchamber to deal with the onset of her monthly courses.
She sat at the little writing desk between the windows to pen a note of apology to Bingley—scarcely the letter she had envisioned first composing there.
“Excuse me, Mrs Bingley,” her new lady’s maid enquired from the doorway. “The water is ready. Should you like your bath now?”
“Yes, thank you, Lacey.”
At the young woman’s direction, two housemaids trudged into the room, lugging pails of steaming water to the bathtub. One was a young red-haired girl with freckles, the other the very ghost of Elizabeth. Jane’s mortification was complete. Refusing to succumb to tears in front of the staff, she folded her note and handed it to Lacey. “Pray, see this is given to Mr Bingley.” Then, simply to get her out of sight, she pointed at the second housemaid and added, “Send her. I would rather you stayed.”
After that, she submitted to Lacey’s ministrations in silence, though her thoughts were far from quiet as they railed against the injustice of her predicament. Here she was, mistress of Netherfield and wife to Mr Bingley yet unable to enjoy being either. One momentshe cringed to consider what her new husband must be thinking of her, the next she recalled him staring at Elizabeth and decided she did not care. If she shed a few tears, it was only as her hair was rinsed and her face was awash with water anyway.
When she was dressed and her hair brushed, she sent Lacey to fetch her some supper. The maid returned with a tray of food and an answering note from Bingley. Jane thanked her for both and dismissed her then stared at the folded paper for a good ten minutes before summoning the courage to read it.
Dearest Jane,
I would not have you distress yourself any further about such a trifling matter. I have grown up with sisters, and I am not insensible to the inconveniences they often suffer.
I am sorry—truly sorry—that you have been aggrieved on this of all days, but rest assured I shall endeavour to put all to rights, to cheer you by every possible method, as soon as you feel well enough to leave your room. In the meantime, anything you require for your comfort shall be yours. Pray, do not hesitate to request whatever you wish of the staff.
You looked beautiful today, Jane. I deeply regret we have been apart for most of it. What say you we forget this day and have our beginning on the morrow?
Charles
She wept in earnest then. It was not the message she had been expecting, but sheoughtto have expected it, for Bingley was nothing if not kind-hearted. It brought everything into question. Had he truly avoided her all day or merely been waylaid by the excessive number of guests? Had he really been staring at Elizabeth, merely looking at his friend, or indeed, merelylooking? When had she become so captious?
