And why did she care what Mr. Darcy would think of her if he knew her secret? He was everything agreeable, handsome, gentlemanly, and kind, but she must not allow for distractions of the heart. In the end, what could come of it? He would leave Hertfordshire and forget all about her. He probably only viewed her as a friend to his sister.
Remy jabbed his wet nose against her arm. With a sigh, she reassured him, “All will be well, Remy, you shall see. Go back to sleep, boy.”
Wouldthings turn out well? She prayed so. Pray and work, that was all she could do, and do it she would. She snuggled back under the covers, determined to wake before dawn to paint for an hour before the household stirred. It would be dark, but she knew the mixtures of her favorite colors by heart. Surely she could replicate the right measurements by candlelight. She had to try or else lose a whole day and fall behind.
Tap, tap, tap!
The sound came from the door connecting her room to Jane’s. Elizabeth flung off the covers and opened the door to see Sarah yawning. “I apologize for waking you, miss, but Miss Bennet has a terrible headache, and she cannot breathe. Nothing I do is helping. I had hoped—” she yawned again.
The maid looked exhausted, and Elizabeth did the most practical thing she could since she was already awake. She sent Sarah to bed and hastened to Jane’s side.
Remy sat himself at the foot of Jane’s bed, one paw on the coverlet, his eyes watching her anxiously.
“Where does it hurt, dearest?” Elizabeth asked, brushing her fingers over her sister’s forehead and cheeks. There was no fever, but Jane’s brows furrowed in pain and her lips were dry and cracked from breathing through her mouth.
“Oh, Lizzy, I feel wretched for waking you.”
“You are never a trouble. It is why I came. I might as well have stayed at Longbourn if I was not willing to comfort you here.” As soon as Elizabeth said the words aloud, guilt consumed her. How selfish she could be! She had resented Jane’s illness, which could not be helped. And all so that Elizabeth could paint more. Granted, her paintings were for her sisters’ benefit, but they did not know that. If she became so involved in her work that she neglected them, whose purpose was she really serving?
Placing her thumbs in the center of Jane’s eyebrows, she pressed down gently.
Jane flinched. “That is where it hurts most.”
Elizabeth knew what to do. In the springtime, Kitty suffered from headaches in the same place, and only one thing eased the discomfort until the headache subsided and she could breathe. “I will be as gentle as I can. The discomfort is temporary.” Slowly, gently, shemassaged her thumbs over Jane’s eyebrows, past her temples, around the back of her ears, and down her neck. After a couple of minutes, her sister relaxed.
“That is much better,” she whispered sleepily. In another few minutes, she could breathe from her nose.
Elizabeth continued until Jane’s deep, rhythmic breaths signaled she was sound asleep in a painless, restful slumber. It was tempting to climb into Jane’s warm bed and sleep with her, but she was certain to oversleep if she did, and she really must paint.
The lighting would not be the best, but Elizabeth’s vision was excellent, and she had spared her candle from the night before. It would only be for an hour…two at the most. She would not neglect Jane, and she would return in time to attend to Georgiana. She would be in good spirits for their benefit today no matter how tired she was or how little time she had to paint. However, she would not waste the precious time she did have!
Tiptoeing back to her room, she changed into her walking gown, donned her warmest coat, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and patted her side for Remy to come with her. Down the stairs they fled, bypassing the breakfast parlor. Time was of the essence, and Elizabeth would not waste a moment.
She had not expected to see a dark figure pacing in the entrance hall or for the door to be standing open. Her foot hesitated at the bottom step. She was tempted to make a retreat, but it was too late.
“Miss Elizabeth?” the man asked in soft surprise.
“Mr. Darcy!” she said at the same time. “I had not?—”
“I did not—” Mr. Darcy bowed, his hand motioning for her to proceed. “Please, you first.”
“I only meant to say that I had not expected to see you this early.” She rather wished she could have said something clever, but she was tired and hungry and caught doing something she had hoped would go unperceived.
“I was only waiting for my horse to be brought around.” He gestured at the open front door. “I am fond of riding early.”
She could have asked where he was going to merit such an early departure, but he had answered her question, and it now fell to her to explain her presence. What could she say? No lady with all her senses would choose to walk alone out of doors before dawn. She either had to tell Mr. Darcy the truth or let him believe her half-witted.
Remy barked from outside, and Elizabeth snapped to attention. She had not realized he had left her side. Through the heavy morning clouds, she saw a man approaching on horseback. Whoever it was must have ridden through the night. Only bad news brought visitors or messengers in the dark hours of the day. “Were you expecting company, sir?”
Mr. Darcy sucked in a sharp breath and then let it out slowly. He wore a marked frown. “Not at this hour.”
The stranger was close enough now for Elizabeth to see the epaulets on his uniform. Her curiosity waspiqued. Who was this man, and why was Mr. Darcy unhappy to see him?
“Richard,” he stated.
“Darcy.” The man named Richard reined in and dismounted.
“Your timing is hideous, as usual.”
