After she had performed two or three songs, Mrs Lanyon and Elizabeth shared an amazed look before applauding and complimenting Miss Darcy’s voice and taste. Mrs Annesley encouraged her to accept their compliments with words rather than by only turning pink.
“Shall you play another?” Mrs Lanyon asked gently. “You are a true proficient.”
“Yes, that was beautiful,” Elizabeth added.
Miss Darcy begged to be allowed to perform for them another time. Mrs Annesley then suggested that the ladies might like to enjoy the library or use the instrument themselves whilst Miss Darcy tended to other matters. Elizabeth supposed that her companion knew that her young charge was overwhelmed and, after they were gone, she suggested so to Mrs Lanyon.
“Yes, she is shy, but age and confidence will improve that.”
“It was an enjoyable way to pass a rainy morning. Should you like to keep me company whilst I write my letters?”
“If you want my company,” Mrs Lanyon said cautiously, “I am happy to give it to you.”
Elizabeth sensed that both of the ladies in the house wanted to bealone, one from shyness and the other from her reserved nature. She had her own desire for inwardly contemplative moments, and told Mrs Lanyon to find her later. Elizabeth, upon finding a maid at work in her own room, took her writing box to the library.
On her way, she passed a servant who wore a black armband. She suspected black would be the general dress throughout the neighbourhood.If what Darcy said about recovering bodies is true, then almost every family has lost a friend.
She kept these melancholy thoughts to a minimum as she wrote to her father to tell him about remaining at Pemberley and to second all of Bingley’s assurances that Mrs Lanyon was a respectable woman. She cautiously wrote how pleased she was with both Pemberley and its master. However much she fixed her heart on Darcy, it would not do to be effusive with her praise.
But in case his feelings equal mine, it might help to lay the ground if I write to my father that I no longer hate the man.
One of the doors was then thrown open, and Darcy entered, slamming it behind him. His expression was almost desperate as he charged into the centre of the room and turned in a full circle.
“Miss Bennet?” he called, shattering the stillness of the library.
She had risen when he entered, and he looked absolutely pale when his eyes finally fixed on her.
It was impossible to observe the expressive singularity in his eyes and not be struck by the alarm in them. After staring at her for a moment, he marched towards her. She gave a little start of surprise and instinctively stepped back, and he stopped. Darcy raised his hands in surrender, even going so far as to take a step back himself. He had surprised her—not frightened her—but when she tried to tell him so, he would not hear her.
“I am sorry. Exceedingly sorry.” His breath came in quick rasps as he looked her up and down before closing his eyes.
“What is the matter?”
“There is nothing the matter with me. Forgive me for alarming you.” A shudder seemed to pass through him. He then looked around the library as though he was surprised to find himself there. “I simply had to—I am going now. It is nothing.”
“It is not nothing!” He was agitated and his hands were shaking. “You are not well; sit down.”
Darcy complied, but said again, “It is nothing. I cannot stay.”
“Whatever is causing you to act this way is not an imaginary trouble. Please, take one moment to collect yourself before you leave. Can I get you something?”
He shook his head, then rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his palms against his eyes. What could explain his strange behaviour? She could only observe him in compassionate silence.
“I am distressed by some dreadful news,” he said, finally raising his head.
She wanted to tell him she would do everything in her power to make him happy and ease any suffering he had. Darcy was staring at her intently. He had entered near to trembling, calling out her name as though he did not expect her to be in the room. “Has it anything to do with me?”
“Carew, my sister’s maid, is dead.” Elizabeth felt her stomach drop, and her mouth fell open. “She was found in the stream this morning after the rain stopped.”
“Good God! She drowned?”
“No... possibly?” He seemed to be wondering what to say. “I think she hit her head, somehow, and died and only fell into the water. Or hit her head and drowned soon after? I do not know what happened yet.”
Elizabeth was grieved, for she had admired Carew very much. “What a terrible accident! She spoke of visiting her father in Lambton this morning. Did she make it there?”
“I shall learn soon enough. Georgiana and I...” he sighed, but was beginning to look and act more like himself. “I must tell my sister, and then we will both call on Mr Carew. I have already sent for his son to come home.”
His face was grim, full of pity so deep that she could see how it hurt him to think about Carew’s death and the distress it would cause her family. “How dreadful for you. I am so sorry. I know she grew up on the estate, and even though she had a stern manner, she showed me how fond she was of both you and Miss Darcy.”
