The clock on the mantel chimed the hour, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Darcy pushed the papers aside, his mind racing with plans and strategies.
But first, he needed to clear his head. The pain was becoming unbearable, the pressure in his skull relentless. Darcy stood, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He needed fresh air, needed to escape the confines of the study and the memories that clung to every corner.
He crossed the room, his steps unsteady, and opened the window. The cool night air rushed in, a welcome relief against his fevered skin. Darcy leaned against the sill, breathing deeply, trying to clear the fog from his mind.
And that was where he found himself two hours later—collapsed at the threshold, his tongue bleeding, trousers rumpled, his cravat soaked, and the side table near the door knocked over in the apparent aftermath of a full-body convulsion.
Darcy put a shaking hand against the door frame, his eyes bleary as he tried to verify the time on the mantel clock.Good Heavens.
He swallowed and drew out his handkerchief to mop his face. Time, it seemed, was not his ally. His condition was surely worsening.
He crawled on his hands and knees to his desk, for he did not trust himself not to sway again and pulled himself up into his chair. Did he dare attempt the stairs tonight? Darcy surveyed the scattered disaster of his desk and found the footman’s bell.
It served him right for snapping at poor Carson earlier, for no one had ventured to disturb him. But now, it seemed… well, he would have to ask for help just moving about his own house.
Bloody humiliating.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The still room wasfilled with the earthy scent of drying herbs, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the small windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Elizabeth and Jane worked quietly side by side, their hands deftly bundling sprigs of rosemary and thyme, securing them with twine to hang above the hearth.
“Did you know that Mr Bingley has two sisters?” Jane asked as she stretched for the nail in the beam above her head.
“I did not. Let me guess—they are each more beautiful than the other and so brimming with kindness and goodness that they have already undertaken to write to their brother to plead with him to secure for them a sister who is equally good and beautiful.”
“Oh, Lizzy, stop,” Jane scoffed as she reached for another spring of thyme. “That does not even make any sense.”
Elizabeth chuckled, winding the twine around a bunch. “Well, then, what did he say about them?”
“Rather… I think the opposite. About the younger sister, that is. She has a terribly handsome dowry, but—”
“He told you how much her dowry is?”
“Not specifically, no, but he said she is in much demand because of it. I do not think hemeantit to sound as if he were bragging, nor quite as if he meant to say that her dowry was theonlything her suitors found appealing, but…”
“But it sounds as though both are true, nonetheless?” Elizabeth guessed.
Jane hooked the last sprig of thyme on the nail and lifted her shoulders. “It did sound like that, yes. He was more than implying that I should not permit her to intimidate me… if I ever had occasion to meet her. Do you think he means… what I think he means by that?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “You are only now noticing what everyone else has long seen. Mr Bingley hardly has eyes for anyone but you.”
Jane blushed. “You are imagining things, Lizzy,” she murmured, though the corner of her lips curled into a smile.
“Am I? You must admit, he is rather attentive to you, even when Mama is not hovering nearby to remind him how beautiful and accomplished you are.”
Jane shook her head, though her smile remained. “Mr Bingley is kind to everyone. It is in his nature.”
“Oh, indeed, he is kind,” Elizabeth agreed. “But I do not see him offering to fetch punch for just anyone, nor do I see him seeking out every opportunity to stand beside them when he is not engaged in another dance.”
Jane’s blush deepened, but she could not suppress a soft laugh. “You are incorrigible, Lizzy. But truly, I do not believe he thinks of me in that way.”
Elizabeth’s smile grew wider, her eyes sparkling with affection for her sister. “Then you are the only one who thinks so, Jane. The rest of us are quite certain that Mr Bingley is very much taken with you.”
“And what of Mr Wickham, Lizzy? He seems to have made quite an impression on you.”
Elizabeth’s own cheeks warmed slightly, though she gave a light shrug. “Mr Wickham is very amiable, and I find his company agreeable. But I believe it is you and Mr Bingley who are the subject of more speculation.”
“Perhaps, but it is all just conjecture, Lizzy. Nothing more.”
