Page 13 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“Am I?”
“Many nights you have closed your eyes and I have heard snoring mere moments later!”
“I do not snore!” Lizzy protested, with alaugh. “I am quite well, Jane, I assure you. It is the strange bed, perhaps. How are you feeling?”
“Very ill,” Jane sniffed. “I rose from my bed only to make sure you were well, and I am afraid I regret it already.”
Her words were punctuated with a hacking cough. Lizzy pressed her hand to her sister’s forehead, finding it burning.
“Jane! Get in the bed at once! I will fetch some water and a cloth.”
“Thank you, Lizzy. Perhaps you might read to me, if you will. Ah, of course you have a book here already! What is it?”
Jane turned to the bedside table and wearily lifted the book to her lap. Lizzy looked in horror as she began to thumb through the pages. She launched herself forward, snatching the book from her sister and slamming it closed.
“Yes! Yes, of course, I will read to you! You will disturb my bookmark, and I must start from the beginning for our reading. A moment, please.”
She turned, placing the book on the windowsill – the furthest place from the bed – in the hope that Jane would not have the strength to reach for it. It was a terrible thing to think, but her sister could not see that note. If it was from Mr Bingley, or if Jane believed it was, such feelings would surely terrify her!
“Are you sure you are well, Lizzy? You are behaving very strangely.”
“Quite well. I am sure I am just unsettled from my poor sleep. I shall gather your things from your room.”
She picked up the book, clutching it close to her chest, as she scurried from Jane’s room and down the corridor to hers. She gave no thought to dressing. Elizabeth barely had time to breathe before she collided with something solid in the corridor.
Strong hands grasped her arms, steadying her, and a familiar scent—clean linen, sandalwood, and something uniquelyhim—wrapped around her senses like a vice.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy’s voice was low, rough, as though she had startled him as much as he had her.
Elizabeth gasped, her grip on the book tightening. The damning letter, bound within the pages, burned against her palms like a brand.
She stepped back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Mr Darcy! Forgive me, please, I…I was not looking where I was going.”
His gaze flickered to the book clutched against her chest. He knew. Somehow, impossibly,he knew.Could his eyes, so intent with their staring, see beneath the book’s cover? Did he know that she was at this very minute suspectinghimof depravity? When his eyes eventually lifted from the book, he could not quite meet her own. His gaze darted away from her, as though something about her had repulsed him.
“Excuse me, Madam. We must both take more care.”
He left with a nod of his head, and she scurried away and into Jane’s empty bedroom, her heart thudding. She would return to Jane when she was certain Mr Darcy was gone.
After a moment or two had passed, and her composure had returned, Elizabeth returned to her own room. Jane lay in her bed, her eyes opening when she heard the door.
“You were not gone very long.”
“I…I could not find anyone. I will try again shortly, but I did not want to leave you alone.”
“I thought I heard you talking to someone in the corridor,” Jane pressed. “It sounded like Mr Darcy.”
“Oh…Oh, yes. Yes, it was.”
“Are you sure you are well, Lizzy? You seem very out of sorts.”
“Quite alright, thank you. I’ll go and see to the water.”
Later, when she had found a maid who had seen to her request, Elizabeth went downstairs for the day. She had missed breakfast, for Jane had been right about the lateness of her waking. When she entered the parlour, she found Mr Bingley in his riding things, sitting beside his sisters. Caroline lifted her head from the book she was reading, one dark eyebrow raised.
“There you are, Miss Eliza! We were worried you were coming down with something yourself. Are you quite well?”
