Page 28 of A Most Beloved Sister
All the emotions from the last several days poured out of her and into the cushion, which thankfully muffled the sound. She shouted until her throat was raw from the exertions.
A knock came at the door, and a maid entered with a tray. Elizabeth was surprised to see lemon and honey next to the cup.
“In case your throat is sore,” the maid explained. “There is also this.”
The girl pulled a jar of salve from the pocket of her apron and placed it on the tray. “It is for your feet, to help them heal.”
“That was thoughtful of your mistress,” Elizabeth reluctantly admitted.
The maid looked at her in surprise. “No, miss. ’Twas Mr. Darcy who requested it for you. The salve came directly from his valet.”
Elizabeth’s eyes raised high on her forehead. “Indeed?” she asked, taking a sip of the cup. “I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”
Now it was the maid’s turn to look surprised.
Elizabeth, noticing the girl’s astonishment, added, “You disagree?”
“It’s not my place, miss.”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “You clearly think highly of thehandsomeman.”
The maid blushed furiously. “I don’t. I mean, that is… I do think highly of him, and I admit he is handsome, but that’s not the reason.”
“Then why?”
“He’s a gentleman,” the girl said simply. “Arealgentleman, with manners. He always has a kind word. Even in London, he never treated any of us at the Bingley house poorly when he came to visit his friends. I thought maybe he’d be different here in the country—like take advantage or show his true colors—but he’s just the same. I’ve never heard tell of him use a cross word with anyone.”
“Really?”
The doubt must have been clearly evident in Elizabeth’s voice, because the maid straightened her shoulders. “Not even his own servants have ever had anything bad to say about him. Ever.”
Having spoken more firmly than she should have, the maid pressed her lips together tightly, dipped a curtsy, and muttered, “Will that be all, miss?”
Elizabeth’s thoughts were swirling in her head over this new piece of information about Darcy’s character. She absentmindedly dismissed the servant, sipping on her tea as she contemplated all the contradictions that existed in one man.
Who was Mr. Darcy, really? The aloof, prideful gentleman who had initially rebuffed her beloved sister and all of Hertfordshire? Or the compassionate, protective figure who had carried her home?
Darcy’s face swam before her mind: his countenance adorned with an air of unassailable pride, his words laced with condescension. Yet at the same time, he was praised and revered by the servant—and providing his own balm for her feet!—and he had formed a close friendship with the affable tradesman Mr. Bingley.
These starkly contrasting facets of his character left her both intrigued and perplexed. His behavior had been a whirlwind of contradictions, leaving her with a perplexing mixture of emotions.
∞∞∞
It was some time later when Elizabeth’s father knocked on the door. “I am going back to Longbourn now, but I will return again tomorrow to check on you and Jane.”
“What will you tell Mama and the others?”
Mr. Bennet sighed. “The truth.”
Elizabeth grimaced in response. “Mama will not take it very well.”
“No, she most likely will not. However, the situation is somewhat one of her own making, and she must feel that responsibility. I daresay the feeling will pass more quickly than it should, unfortunately, and the situation will once again be the fault of anyone but herself.”
He leaned forward and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “I know the situation here is difficult for you, and the company even more so. Please behave.”
“I will do my very best, Papa. I promise.”
As he made to leave, a sudden thought struck her. “Does Jane know, Papa?”
