for dinner. She eventually attempted to settle with a book, but found herself glancing out the window every few minutes to watch for his return. At one point, she saw two workmen approaching across the grassy hill, but the next time she looked out, she realized that one of them was Darcy himself, his shirt torn and filthy, his face streaked with soot, and with a companion who looked no better than he. She flushed as thoughts of the previous night filled her mind. As they came closer, she recognized the second man as his steward, and she watched in shocked fascination as Darcy clapped him on the back before walking off to the house.
She walked rapidly toward the front hall, and was half-way down the long staircase when she spotted Darcy being accosted by one of the footmen. “Mr. Darcy, sir, begging your pardon, but I wondered if you had any news. Mrs. Wheeler’s sister Ann works in the kitchen, and we have all been worrying, sir.”
“I assume you have already heard about the children?” Darcy asked somberly. At the footman’s nod, he added, “Give me a quarter hour to make myself decent and I shall come to the kitchens myself to tell them what I know.”
“Thank you, sir. They will appreciate it.”
Darcy paused a moment, and then said, “On second thought, perhaps I should go there immediately.” Part way across the hall Darcy spied Elizabeth on the steps. Their eyes met and held for a minute, and the warmth in his went a long way toward soothing Elizabeth’s nerves, as she saw his lips shape the word ‘later.’ The relief that she felt, just knowing that he was in the house, was both great and seemingly inexplicable.
When she returned downstairs for dinner, she found the Gardiners and Georgiana, who was feeling somewhat better, already present. Darcy joined them a little later than was his wont, restored to his usual well turned-out self, his hair still damp. Apart from lines of fatigue around his eyes, he looked no different from usual. As he sat on the loveseat next to Elizabeth, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I adore you.” She looked at him with gratitude and a blush, feeling a surprising sensation of pleasurable completeness at his presence. Returning his attention to the party at large, he asked after their travels, and seemed interested in hearing of the splendors of the rose gardens of Haddon Hall. When Mr. Gardiner asked about his day, he replied only that he was attending to some business with his tenants.
He was as attentive to her as was possible in company, giving her warm glances and addressing questions to her whenever possible, but eventually it occurred to her that all was not well. He seemed on edge and uncomfortable. She wondered and worried as to the cause; whether it could be the events of the day, or those of the previous night, and if so, what he was thinking. Her stomach churned anxiously. She wished they could be alone so that she could ask him, and seek his reassurance.
She found herself watching him carefully, almost obsessively, and saw that he seemed to wince occasionally, and, just before they were to go in to dinner, she observed that he was holding his glass in a peculiarly stiff manner. Concerned, she waited until the others were distracted, and reached over and took his hand. To her surprise, he tried to pull it away. She felt a sharp pang of rejection before recognizing that he was not avoiding her, but attempting to prevent her from seeing his hand, and her concern for him rose. Eyeing him suspiciously, she said quietly, “I would like to see your hand, Mr. Darcy.”
“Miss Bennet, it is nothing to worry yourself over, merely a scrape,” he responded rather shortly.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone a warning. Their eyes locked in a brief battle, then Darcy, with an exasperated roll of his eyes, turned his hands so that she could see them. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp when she saw the burns, blisters, and scrapes that scored much of his palms and the inside surfaces of his fingers. After a first moment of shock, she reassured herself that they did not look deep, though certain to be very painful, and asked, “Have you put anything on them?”
“No need,” he said in a voice that declared the subject closed.
“I beg to differ,” she said. “Those require care. Excuse me, sir, I shall return shortly.” She stood and exited before he could protest, as she was certain he would, then paused out in the hall, realizing that she had no idea where to locate the items she needed at Pemberley without creating more commotion than Darcy would wish. Finally she asked a servant to help her locate Mrs. Reynolds.
The housekeeper seemed surprised to see her. “How may I help you, Miss Bennet?”
“Mrs. Reynolds, I am looking for some oil of lavender, or perhaps oil of chamomile. Would you have something along those lines that I might use?”
Mrs. Reynolds promptly sent off a servant for the required items, then asked, “Is there a problem, miss?”
Elizabeth debated the suitability of telling her, then, recollecting the obvious affection between the two, elected frankness. “Mr. Darcy burned his hands today, and I believe that oil of lavender will be beneficial to his burns.”
The housekeeper’s respect for the young lady increased as she noted that Miss Bennet was not only was concerned about the master, but knew her remedies as well. “Will you be requiring bandages as well, then?”
Elizabeth paused. “It would be a good idea, if he accepts them.”
A brief smile crossed Mrs. Reynolds’ face. “Just a moment, miss. Let me see what I can find.” She returned several minutes later, followed by a girl with a basin, towels, and strips of clean linen. Leading the way to a small room near the dining-parlor, she laid out the supplies, and asked conversationally, “May I ask, miss, how you convinced him to accept this? He is usually reluctant to be cared for.”
Elizabeth hid a smile without complete success. “I did not offer him a choice.”
With a shrewd look, the housekeeper said, “Then perhaps you should bring him here; he may listen better to you than to me.”
Accepting this directive, Elizabeth returned to him and quietly asked, “Mr. Darcy, would you be so kind as to accompany me for a moment?”
Looking somewhat displeased, especially since they seemed to have garnered the attention of the others, he replied, “I do not believe it necessary, Miss Bennet.”
Her eyes narrowed. Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, “If you do not cooperate, sir, I shall be forced to take desperate action.”
A slight smile crossed his lips. “And what would
“I am sorry to resort to vile threats, but if you do not join me, I will tell your sister what you have done to your hands,” she whispered.
“That is blackmail!”
“I am glad to see that you do not underestimate me, sir!”
He sighed deeply. “Very well, Miss Bennet, I am at your command.” He followed her to the prepared room. His eyes narrowed as he took in the presence of Mrs. Reynolds, but obediently complied with her instructions to seat himself and hold out his hands.
“Oh, Master William,” the housekeeper said reproachfully as she surveyed the damage, and shook her head disapprovingly. “We shall need to clean those off before anything else. I cannot believe that Wilkins let you out like this without a word to me!”
Elizabeth had to press her hand against her mouth to hide a smile at this interaction and at the distinctly sulky look on Darcy’s face at that moment. “There is no need for all this,” he insisted. “Miss Bennet’s concern is touching, but this is hardly serious.”
“Miss Bennet has twice the sense you do, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Reynolds said tartly. “Now, hold still while I clean them. However did you do that?” She pointed to a line of raw flesh across his fingers.
“Bucket line,” he said succinctly. “I have altogether the wrong sort of calluses.”
Seeing the obvious flash of pain cross his face as the process was begun, Elizabeth, thinking that he might like some privacy, said, “Perhaps I should rejoin the others now.”
He looked up at her. “Oh, no, Miss Bennet. You forced me into this; you will have to stay to comfort me.” He grimaced at a particularly painful sensation.
“I fear Mr. Darcy has never been the best patient,” Mrs. Reynolds said in a soothing voice.
“I am hardly surprised. I have noticed he prefers to take care of others, rather than of himself,” Elizabeth teased, hoping to distract him from his discomfort.
Mrs. Reynolds glanced at her shrewdly, noting the looks that she and Darcy were exchanging, and it occurred to her that perhaps there were other things Wilkins had failed to report to her. She smiled to herself as she applied the remedies, then pulled out the bandages.
“No bandages,” Darcy said definitely, pulling his hands away.
