Page 39 of Saved By Mr. Darcy
The remaining hours of the day passed by agonisingly slowly. At lunch, Georgiana enquired after Elizabeth to be told she was asleep, and they did not wish to disturb her. He bit his tongue, his need to see her great but not so urgent that he would deprive her of rest. Though she seemed to be in high spirits, he knew that she tired easily. Her recovery was the most important thing, and he would provide no hindrance to that.
When dinner came, and she was still absent, his concern grew. He sat at the large table, Georgiana opposite him, feeling as though the table were twenty feet tall without Miss Elizabeth’s presence.
“Georgiana, will you go and see what keeps Miss Elizabeth?”
“I shall go now. I am sure she is well.”
Georgiana rose from her chair, almost running from the room in her hurry. Darcy waited for her to return, fiddling with the cutlery as he itched for something to do. He rose from his chair as Georgiana returned, and was alarmed by the sight of her. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she chewed on the flesh there, an unsightly habit left from childhood. She regressed into such behaviour only when worried, and his heart sank.
“What is wrong?”
Georgiana released her lower lip, shaking her head. She tried to smile, but her lips were tugged downwards. His fear was not eased until she spoke.
“She is well, but needs rest. She does not require the doctor. She is fatigued from the day’s exertion, that is all. She is awake, but does not wish to be in company. She sends her sincerest apologies.”
“Is that all she said?”
“What else?” Georgiana asked with a frown, taking her seat and picking up her knife and fork. “May we start, Fitzwilliam? I am very hungry.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
They ate in relative silence, any conversation Georgiana tried to begin answered in no more than two words. She gave up entirely, excusing herself as soon as the meal had finished. He sat alone at the dinner table, trying to temper his concern. It would not do to run to Miss Elizabeth’s room as he wished to. He longed to see her, for he would not believe in her good health without seeing it for himself.
He got up after some time, and walked to his bedchamber. He would sleep, and hope that the morning would bring with it good health for Elizabeth. He readied for bed without the help of his valet, wishing for no interaction with anyone else. He undressed to his shirt and breeches, pacing his room aimlessly. His hands fidgeted by his side, restless and agitated.
He walked to the window, staring out into the darkness. He saw his own reflection staring back at him, dim and flickering in the candle light. He flinched, not wanting to see himself in his desperation. He heard the sharp sound of rain hitting the glass, rapidly followed by another, another, another. Soon, rain was hammering against the window pane, and the garden in frontof him was thrown into bright light. A deep bellow of thunder followed a few moments later.
I am not accustomed to loud noises…
He recalled Miss Elizabeth’s reaction to the chair falling a few days before. She had been so frightened, her breath stolen from her as tears fell from her eyes and her mind played the cruellest tricks on her. She was alone in her room, the world outside in chaos.
Without giving his actions a moment’s thought, he flung the door open and ran down the stairs. If he was in his right mind, he might consider what the servants would have made of their master running down the stairs half dressed, but he wasnotin his right mind. He was in a state quite unfamiliar to himself, frenzied and panicked at the thought of her suffering.
He came to his senses outside of her room; perhaps the staff had awoken during the storm and had also rushed to assist their guest. He paused, looking up and down the corridor for any sign of activity. There was nothing but another flash of light, another rumble of thunder – and the sharp, unmistakable gasp from within the Blue Room.
He stepped forward, raising his hand and knocking on the door. There was no reply from within.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mr Darcy? Mr Darcy, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“Help me, Mr Darcy. I cannot move. Please… Please…”
He opened the door, slipping inside quickly and closing it behind him. Miss Elizabeth lay on the bed, her hands pressed over her eyes. She was beneath the sheets, the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he rushed to her side. “Elizabeth! You are safe!You are well!”
“The light…the flashes of light!”
“Lightning, nothing more. I swear that you are safe!”
“I am fine. I do not like it, but it is not like the chair in the dining room. I know that this is just a storm.”
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, reaching a hesitant hand out to rest on her back.Elizabeth leaned into his touch, her eyes still pressed closed. He moved closer, and soon he found himself pushing the cover down slightly until her shoulders were exposed. He tugged her close to him, her head lolling to his chest.
“Just a storm,” he echoed. “Nothing more.”
