“And what? What do you think will be said of me when it becomes known a mob of men spent several hours in this house and that Mr. Darcy rousted them, spending the better part of the night here in doing so, and that I am moved to his house and put under his protection? What next? Are we to marry in haste, or do you plan to send me to my father under a cloud of ruin?”
He stared at me for one long, throbbing moment before barking back at me. “Just how do you suppose that staying here alone under these conditions will spare you the same talk?”
“I do not know! But Idoknow I do not relish being talked of as yourfancy bitas they say! And what of your sister? What talk will she be subjected to if she is made to treat your rumored mistress as her guest?”
I began to stack the dishes out of the need to vent my frustration and spoke with bitter certainty. “I would rather take my chances with whatever gossip arises without reference to you.”
“Is my assistance so offensive?”
“I would rather not be under an obligation to you, sir!” I cried.
I had turned to speak to him directly, and since he was still staring at me with a heavy frown, I felt compelled to elaborate—heatedly—my feelings on the matter.
“Surely, I must be allowed a particle of dignity! If not—and if I am to run away from this awful circumstance—then I may as well go to London on the morning stage and take poor, bewildered Mrs. Jennings with me. Once there, my father, uncles, and perhaps even my cousin Collins can decide what is to be done with me.” I turned my back to him and began to scrape the plates briskly into the floor bucket, ridding them of the dried food and scraps that could only remind me of my ordeal.
“There are plenty of men, Mr. Darcy,” I said grimly, “who are as capable as you are of managing my life.”
I did not realize that I was scraping madly at a single plate long after it was clean until Mr. Darcy gently gripped my wrist.
“You are overtired,” he said in a low voice into my ear.
I felt his nearness—his warmth. He stood directly behind me, and merely at the insistence of his touch, the knife with which I had been scraping clattered to the floor. This time, he did not just assist me. He picked me up and carried me up the stairs and into my room, depositing me onto my bed.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured sternly.
Chapter Sixteen
I remember nothing after that, so I must have fallen into a dreamless oblivion. But I had no sooner closed my eyes—or so it seemed to me—than I heard a timid knock at my door. With a single, sand-filled eye pried open by force of will, I glanced at the clock by my bed and saw in the dim light of morning that it was already seven o’clock! And though I had been blessed with three hours of sleep, I had no sense of being rested. Regardless, I staggered out of bed, recalling in a single flash the events of the previous day, and opened the door to my room. There stood Doreen and Penny, both as wide-eyed as frightened children.
“Is it safe to go down, miss? We thought we heard a noise!” Doreen hissed. They were very late to be thinking of their chores, no doubt pondering for some time whether to go down or continue to hide in the attic.
“Help me dress, and I shall go down with you,” I whispered.
Thus began my day. As we went through the infamous hall, a vision of Mr. Darcy’s shoulders nearly spanning the width of the passage arose before my eyes. I blinked away the memory, and still speaking in a low voice for no reason other than our collective trepidation, I said, “The kitchen is a bit of a mess.”
As I pushed open the door, however, I saw the room had been fully restored to order. The stove was lit, one lamp burned cheerily on its customary hook, and at the table, stood a plump and cheerful girl, peeling apples.
“Good morning, miss,” she said on a curtsey. “I am Maggie from Pemberley come to help.”
“Pemberley?” I asked dazedly.
“Mr. Darcy sent me with some few supplies and instructions to—oh dear! Let me give you this note, miss.”
She handed me a pristine envelope, addressed simply toMiss Elizabeth Bennet,sealed with wax that had been stamped with an elegantD. I broke the seal and read, conscious of both Penny and Doreen pressed closely against my back, breathing heavily, and probably wishing desperately that they could read.
Dear Miss Bennet,
I have taken the liberty of sending a kitchen maid from Pemberley. Maggie is a cheerful, biddable soul, who was told your cook had not been able to come to you for some days. This should explain the condition of Mrs. Jennings’s kitchen. I also sent a message to your cook and manservant to stay away on the excuse you have a fever that might be contagious.
This service was provided to me by Mrs. Edmonton’s man, who is both known to them and familiar with their lodging house, and who did return the barrow shortly after the ruckus subsided as a pretense to satisfy his curiosity. He has been paid for his silence.
In addition to Maggie, I have sent Sam, who will do whatever work is required, including sleeping in your kitchen and serving as night watchman. I leave the duration of their service to you, but I urge you to take advantage of the respite for at least a few days.
I have interfered to this extent on the belief that the fewer persons who know of or speak about what took place last night, the more comfortable you will be. Rest assured you are free of obligation to me in this regard. Everything I did was for the sake of my own peace of mind, and I have operated on the principal favored by my cousin: to act first and beg forgiveness later.
Your servant, and etc.
F. Darcy
