Page 18 of Saved By Mr. Darcy
The poor fellow must be mortified; he had surely never shown any more emotion than strictly necessary for his entire life. Here he was, standing before a veritable watering pot who could not seem to stop crying. Her body shook with the force of it, the stress of these past weeks bursting through her, a riverbank no longer able to hold the rising waters. She had tried to be strong, tried to smile through the terrible pain and the dreadful nightmares. Being denied her beloved Jane was more than she could bear.
“I am sorry.”
“You have no need to apologise. I am only sorry that your mother does not see your value. That you are not treasured as you ought to be.”
“Am I not the most difficult person to love, Mr Darcy? You yourself found your begrudged affection for me most inconvenient, you told me so yourself.”
“I was a fool to speak to you in such a way,” he said, and the words hung between them. After several moments of silence, he spoke again. “I will send a carriage for Miss Bennet. I will bring her here. I would go myself if you bid me.”
“No,” Lizzy shook her head. “No, it is no use. I cannot steal Jane away. She would hate to be torn between our mother’s will and mine. I would like to write a letter. Would you be able to help me? I am still in some pain with my shoulder, and my leg. I cannot sit at a desk, nor gather the strength to hold a quill. Might I dictate to you?”
She gestured to the writing desk in the corner.
“Me?”
“My aunt is resting, and I know firsthand that you have excellent penmanship.”
“Very well.”
He slowly made his way from his place at the threshold and sat down at the desk. He was facing away from her as he prepared the writing tools that sat at the desk. Lizzy wondered if they had been placed there for her use, for a servant had mentioned that this room was seldom occupied.
“I am ready,” he said softly, his voice deep.
“My dearest Mamma,” Lizzy began, willing herself not to cry. “How disappointed I am that you will not send my beloved sister to me. At the very best, you have not received any correspondence from me, for you know my wishes would have been most clear. At the very worst I am ignored by my own mother in my hour of deepest need. I have not received word from you in my stay here, and I can only hope that the letters have been delayed. I cannot believe that you, nor any of my family, would not consent to come to me when I am so sorely injured.
I ask, as I know others have on my behalf, that you send Jane to Derbyshire at the soonest convenience. I will be unable to travel for some weeks, as my leg is bandaged tightly and must be rested as much as possible lest the bones heal improperly. My spirits are low, and…”
Her voice wavered, and she closed her eyes.
“I cannot. I cannot. Please, we must stop.”
“Of course.”
“What is the use? What is the point in sending a letter begging for my family, when they have forgotten me?”
“They have not. I am certain of that.”
“How long have I been here, Mr Darcy? I did not wake to a pile of letters, and I certainly have none now. Why?”
“The post can be slow in this part of the world.”
“How often do you receive correspondence?”
He hesitated. Lizzy raised an eyebrow, and she could see the defeat in his expression.
“Every day.”
“Well then,” she shrugged. “I believe you do not need to console me with false hope. There is no letter. My mother would write to my aunt, but not me. She is a coward.”
“I am sorry for your pain. You love your family. It is an admirable trait.”
“I am glad that I have at least one in your eyes.”
He rose from his chair, standing stiffly at the bottom of the bed. She knew that her words had struck him, his jaw set tightly and his hands tense by his side.
“You have shown unimaginable strength and courage, Miss Elizabeth. I think no ill of you.”
“Thank you.”
