Unfortunately, neither volume held her interest for long. Her thoughts were too unsettled; more than once she found herself reading the same page thrice, the very reflections that had denied her sleep now flitting restlessly through her mind. At length, she abandoned the attempt, set both books aside and returned to her bed.
If I cannot sleep,she reasoned,I shall at least rest my body.Morning would come soon enough, and with it she hoped the chance to return to Longbourn.I shall walk across the fields if I must,she told herself.Elinor needs me.
The next coherent thought that reached her was a vague complaint against the brightness of the room. She sat up, blinking, and glanced towards the clock on the mantel—nearly ten. A small gasp escaped her. Never had she slept so late—not since her husband’s death. She rang for the maid and crossed to the washstand to begin her ablutions. Her gown hung freshly pressed behind the screen.
Milly, one of Netherfield’s permanent maids, soon entered to assist her. When Elizabeth was dressed, the girl dropped a curtsey and announced that breakfast awaited in the morning room. Throwing a shawl about her shoulders, Elizabeth descended the stairs, following the same passage she had taken in the night.
The gentlemen rose as she entered. Suzanne and Jane were already at table; Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had not yet come down. Perhaps the ladies preferred a tray in their chambers.
“Good morning, Mrs Fiennes.” Mr Bingley greeted her with his usual good humour. “I trust you slept well?”
Elizabeth returned his smile, though with some embarrassment. “Too well, it appears. I am quite ashamed to have lain abed so late; I am usually an early riser.”
From across the table, Suzanne and Jane exchanged a glance touched with…Are they laughing at me?Elizabeth’s smile faded a little, and unwilling to interpret their amusement, she turned towards the sideboard and began filling her plate.
“I suspected you would be walking first thing, Elizabeth, but when I enquired, was told you were still abed. I could not believe it!”
Mr Hurst spoke without raising his head. “Perhaps the bed did not suit Mrs Fiennes.” She was certain he said it without malice; indeed, the man was entirely focused on his plate.
Mr Bingley looked stricken. “Pray, do not say so! Was your assurance merely polite? I should be quite mortified if you were uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth rushed to reassure him. “Not in the least, sir. Once I fell asleep, I rested exceedingly well. My concern for my daughter kept me wakeful at first, so I sought a little distraction in the library.”
A sudden clatter of silver broke the gentle murmur round the table. Only then did Elizabeth recall that Mr Darcy was present—and that she had found him there in the early morning hours.
Mr Bingley laughed. “You and Darcy both. He, too, went searching amongst our barren shelves for something to quiet his mind. I dare say he succeeded—the maids discovered him there this morning.”
Elizabeth faced the table with her now-laden plate. She did not lift her eyes, yet she felt the weight of his gaze as she moved to take a seat beside Suzanne. Attempting to disguise her disquiet, she said with a hint of playfulness, “Then the chairs in the library must be vastly superior to the beds, if they could induce a gentleman to sleep amongst the books.”
General laughter followed, save from Mr Darcy, who continued to watch her in silence. Elizabeth bent over her plate as she strove to ignore him, affecting ease while her pulse betrayed her. Suzanne soon asked what book she had found, and Elizabeth answered with as much calm as she could command.
“Both usually hold my attention, yet last night they did me no good. I read for a time before returning to my bed, and that must account for my late rising. I shall walk the gardens after breakfast to atone for such indolence.” She turned to Mr Bingley with a composed smile. “Have you had word of the roads? I wish to return to Longbourn. Your hospitality has been most kind, but my daughter will be missing me.”
“The skies are clear, and the sun is high,” Mr Bingley replied. “The roads should be quite passable this afternoon. We shall enjoy your company until then.”
Elizabeth chanced a look towards Mr Darcy. His features betrayed nothing—neither satisfaction nor disappointment—only a stillness that seemed reflective. For a fleeting moment, she saw his sleeping face in the firelight, that quiet ease which had so disarmed her. She felt her cheeks warm; she looked away and fixed her gaze on her plate once more, willing her thoughts to good order.
Had he dreamt of her or merely spoken her name by chance? She could not tell which thought was the more perilous—that he had dreamt of her, or that she secretly hoped he might. What folly to be unsettled by a dreamer’s murmur—and how easy the memory of it disturbed her calm.
Darcy
It had not been a dream.
After spending hours in his chamber the night before, still fully attired and unable to find rest, Darcy at last left for the library. There was always a fire there; the servants knew his fondness for the room. Many a night he had passed within those walls, reading letters or attending to business while the household slept. His daylight hours were spent with Bingley—hunting, calling upon neighbours, or reviewing estate matters. The respite from his own affairs was welcome, yet habit kept him alert to Pemberley’s concerns. His steward was more than capable, but he could never fully set aside responsibility, even on a holiday.
He descended to fetch a book he had left there two days before, hoping it might quiet his mind. His thoughts were far removed from accounts or correspondence—they were filled with Elizabeth. Knowing she slept only two doors away had driven rest from him entirely. Her nearness unsettled him; he could think of nothing else.
He longed to understand her heart. Did she ever think of him when they were apart—miss him, as he missed her? He wished to court her openly, to declare his affection, and to tell her how deeply she had altered his life—and to kiss her. He even dared to imagine calling her daughter his own and returning with them both to Pemberley to be a family. But some inwardcaution restrained him. Instinct warned him she was not ready; to press his suit now might end in disaster. And so he waited.
Unequal to remaining in his chamber, he took up his banyan and slippers. His decision not to undress proved wise; he could move through the corridors unseen and spare himself any chance encounter with Miss Bingley, who might mistake civility for compromise. Avoiding the one creaking stair, he reached the library unobserved and stirred the fire to life. Resting one arm on the mantel, he watched the coals brighten, the glow reminding him of Elizabeth’s eyes.Evenhere,I cannot escape her,he thought with a low groan.
Settling into his accustomed seat, feet on the stool, he opened his book, though his mind wandered continually back to her. The room was quiet, the fire steady. Sleep crept on him gradually, softening his restless thoughts until images of Elizabeth filled his mind—Elizabeth smiling pertly, Elizabeth dancing, Elizabeth in his arms.
Some sound roused him; half-awake, he glimpsed movement and caught the scent of rosewater and jasmine—light, unmistakable, and hers.Elizabeth,he thought, before sleep claimed him once more.
Now seated at breakfast, he almost convinced himself it had been a dream—until Elizabeth’s unguarded words proved otherwise. She mentioned seeking a book in the library, and though it appeared her words had escaped her without thought, they struck him like a blow. His heart leapt, then steadied beneath her calm reserve; she did not look at him. He forced himself to remain still, to appear unmoved, though his every sense was fixed upon her. She jested about the library chairs being more inviting than the beds; he wanted to join in the merriment, yet the sound caught in his throat.
He yearned to speak with her but dared not deepen her embarrassment. With effort, he tore his gaze from her and finished his meal. Elizabethmentioned walking out; he resolved to do the same. A little air might serve them both.
