Page 24 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
“Of course. It could not possibly bemyfault.”
He barked out a laugh at that. “No, of course not.” Netherfield was close now; they would be at the stairs in a few moments. He summoned his courage. “Miss Bennet, when you are restored to yourself, I should like to speak with you.”
There. The stairs were just before him, and not a moment too soon. Elizabeth was not a large woman by any measure, but she no longer felt as light as she had back at the pond. He took the first step up, adjusted her in his arms, and then hurried up the rest.
“As long as you are not gone off to Pemberley,” she said faintly, as they reached the top, “I will listen to whatever you have to say.”
“Thank you,” he said, breathing a little heavier.
The door opened so quickly that it nearly hit Darcy. He turned a bit so that his shoulder would take the blow and not Elizabeth. She had enough to contend with.
“I startled Miss Elizabeth, and she fell in the pond,” Darcy said brusquely, walking inside past the butler.
“You may set me on my feet now,” Elizabeth told him, and Darcy complied, unwilling to let her go, but knowing that her peril was less extreme now that they were indoors.
“Fetch Mrs. Bingley,” Carstairs told a footman. “Quick, now.” He beckoned to a maid. “Tell Mrs. Nichols we have need of her.” Then he bellowed, “Kerr!” and Darcy raised his brows.
The maid appeared as though from the thin air. “Oh, Miss Bennet,” she said reprovingly. “Come with me and we will set you to rights.”
One of the staff was already approaching with a blanket, and Darcy gently lifted his greatcoat off her shoulders and allowed Kerr to wrap the dry wool around Elizabeth.
“The fire is still warm in your chambers,” Kerr told Elizabeth. The maid could not be more than a year or two older than his Elizabeth, but she behaved more like a mother, wrapping an arm around her mistress as she clucked at her. “What were you doing out by the pond on such a blustery day?”
Darcy watched until they disappeared into the family wing. Only then did he realise that Carstairs was standing next to him, his hands clasped behind his back, watching as well.
“You should change your boots, sir,” Carstairs said without actually looking at the boots or at Darcy. “It would not do to leave your feet wet.”
The butler had already picked his damp greatcoat up from the floor and stepped into the little room off the entrance where wet outerwear was hung to dry. His feet were not wet, but they were cold, so with a grunt that passed as a response, he walked up the other staircase—the one that led to the guest wing. When he reached the top, Darcy could not help but look back. Elizabeth was here. She was here, and she had agreed he might speak to her. He would make certain that this time, nothing would go wrong.
Chapter Ten
Janedrapedanotherheavyblanket over Elizabeth’s legs while Kerr filled several bed warmers and stuck them under the sheets on the other side of the room.
“Are you warm enough, dearest?”
Elizabeth sat with her stocking-clad feet stretched out in the direction of the fire and wiggled her toes. She was finally warming, but the whole ordeal had left her fatigued. Not that she ought to be the one who was tired, for Mr. Darcy had carried her back to the house. She wondered how he was feeling.
“I am well, though you may suffocate me with all of these blankets,” she teased.
“I cannot understand why you were out walking by yourself when it is so cold, Lizzy,” Jane fussed, mimicking a shudder. “You cannot move me from the fire on a day like today.”
“I did not expect to be out long.” She had felt compelled to visit the path where she had seen Mr. Darcy once before. How prophetic that had been! “The wind was not blowing when I set out. That is why it feels so cold.”
“It does not only feel cold, itiscold. I would not be surprised if it snows tonight.”
“Do you think so?”
“I hope not, for Mr. Darcy’s sake. Charles did not tell me his friend was still here, but he will be here longer still if there is any snow to speak of.”
“WhyisMr. Darcy still here? He mentioned horse trouble, but I thought he was to leave directly from the wedding breakfast.”
“He was. A series of mischances, it seems. His horse fell lame not five miles down the road, and another lost a shoe, and then there was an illness in the house . . .”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Jane was not looking at her as she spoke, only fluffing pillows and replacing them on the settee.
“Jane . . .”
“I will check on your soup. Is the tea still hot?”
