jeopardize anyone here at Pemberley,” he said sincerely, claiming the chair opposite Darcy and folding his hands upon his lap, “or any other person for that matter. It is why Georgiana and I hunt game rather than…well, other fare. If you’d prefer I decamp, I’ll do so immediately, but—”
“No,” Darcy muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No. I’m glad to have you here, Richard. You’ve been a world of comfort to Georgiana, and to me as well. Frankly, I wouldn’t know what to do with her if you were to go away now. Considering the circumstances, it’s the very least I can do for you. If you hadn’t been here last autumn while I was away visiting Bingley, God knows what would have happened to her, or to the staff.” He pursed his lips and shook his head angrily. “I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay.”
Shortly after dawn on the morning Darcy’s fever had broken, Elizabeth’s father arrived at Netherfield to collect her. Her middle sister Mary accompanied him, and was instructed to reside there in Elizabeth’s stead for however long she was required. Though Jane had beseeched her father to allow Elizabeth to remain to nurse her until she was recovered enough to return to Longbourn, such pleas fell on deaf ears. Elizabeth was escorted out of the house by Mr. Bennet and taken first to Longbourn, and then to Town to her uncle’s house in Cheapside. She was gone from the country before the Netherfield family emerged from their bedchambers to break their fast.
Darcy’s first trip below stairs came several days later and was, coincidentally, also Jane’s. It was she who sought him out in the quietude of Bingley’s library, she who informed him of Elizabeth’s departure, and she who discreetly slipped her sister’s letter into his hand while Mary sat primly across the room immersed in a thick, dusty tome. It was nothing short of torture to remain by Jane’s side mak ing polite conversation for a quarter-of-an-hour when all Darcy desired was to return to his apartment and devour the flowing script on the little piece of paper he clutched in his fist.
After reading and rereading Elizabeth’s words, however, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to be accessible to him for some time, either in Hertfordshire or London. Her inaccessibility didn’t stop Darcy from entertaining the idea of quitting Netherfield to take up residence in Town, though, where he happened to own a house on Brooke Street.
What Darcy wanted to do wasn’t what he knew he ought to do, however, which was to respect Elizabeth’s request for privacy and leave her alone. As soon as Mr. Jones pronounced him recovered enough to travel, Darcy steeled his resolve and departed for Pemberley instead. He’d been gone from his estate long enough and his impatience to see his sister, rather than read about her well-being and progress in letters from his cousin Richard, was considerable. As deeply as he longed to be reunited with Elizabeth, the urge to see how Georgiana did had become nearly as strong. To Pemberley he would go.
But Darcy’s homecoming was hardly what he’d anticipated . He’d entered Pemberley’s grounds just past nightfall after travelling for three long, arduous days. The torches that lined the gravel drive burned brightly in welcome, a familiar sight that made the heaviness of his heart a little lighter, as did the figure of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who threw open the door with a wide grin the moment Darcy alighted from the carriage and ascended the front steps. They exchanged pleasantries and, though Darcy desired to see Georgiana directly, he obliged Richard by joining him for a drink in his private sitting room, where the colonel promptly poured Pemberley’s master a healthy glass of brandy, and none for himself.
It was then that Darcy made several observations, the first being his cousin’s complexion. For an athletic officer in Her Majesty’s Army well-known to spend far
“No,” Darcy muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No. I’m glad to have you here, Richard. You’ve been a world of comfort to Georgiana, and to me as well. Frankly, I wouldn’t know what to do with her if you were to go away now. Considering the circumstances, it’s the very least I can do for you. If you hadn’t been here last autumn while I was away visiting Bingley, God knows what would have happened to her, or to the staff.” He pursed his lips and shook his head angrily. “I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay.”
Shortly after dawn on the morning Darcy’s fever had broken, Elizabeth’s father arrived at Netherfield to collect her. Her middle sister Mary accompanied him, and was instructed to reside there in Elizabeth’s stead for however long she was required. Though Jane had beseeched her father to allow Elizabeth to remain to nurse her until she was recovered enough to return to Longbourn, such pleas fell on deaf ears. Elizabeth was escorted out of the house by Mr. Bennet and taken first to Longbourn, and then to Town to her uncle’s house in Cheapside. She was gone from the country before the Netherfield family emerged from their bedchambers to break their fast.
Darcy’s first trip below stairs came several days later and was, coincidentally, also Jane’s. It was she who sought him out in the quietude of Bingley’s library, she who informed him of Elizabeth’s departure, and she who discreetly slipped her sister’s letter into his hand while Mary sat primly across the room immersed in a thick, dusty tome. It was nothing short of torture to remain by Jane’s side mak ing polite conversation for a quarter-of-an-hour when all Darcy desired was to return to his apartment and devour the flowing script on the little piece of paper he clutched in his fist.
After reading and rereading Elizabeth’s words, however, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to be accessible to him for some time, either in Hertfordshire or London. Her inaccessibility didn’t stop Darcy from entertaining the idea of quitting Netherfield to take up residence in Town, though, where he happened to own a house on Brooke Street.
What Darcy wanted to do wasn’t what he knew he ought to do, however, which was to respect Elizabeth’s request for privacy and leave her alone. As soon as Mr. Jones pronounced him recovered enough to travel, Darcy steeled his resolve and departed for Pemberley instead. He’d been gone from his estate long enough and his impatience to see his sister, rather than read about her well-being and progress in letters from his cousin Richard, was considerable. As deeply as he longed to be reunited with Elizabeth, the urge to see how Georgiana did had become nearly as strong. To Pemberley he would go.
But Darcy’s homecoming was hardly what he’d anticipated . He’d entered Pemberley’s grounds just past nightfall after travelling for three long, arduous days. The torches that lined the gravel drive burned brightly in welcome, a familiar sight that made the heaviness of his heart a little lighter, as did the figure of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who threw open the door with a wide grin the moment Darcy alighted from the carriage and ascended the front steps. They exchanged pleasantries and, though Darcy desired to see Georgiana directly, he obliged Richard by joining him for a drink in his private sitting room, where the colonel promptly poured Pemberley’s master a healthy glass of brandy, and none for himself.
It was then that Darcy made several observations, the first being his cousin’s complexion. For an athletic officer in Her Majesty’s Army well-known to spend far
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