She nodded half-heartedly. Nothing mattered now.
Except that it mattered very much when he vaulted to the ground behind her and then drew her down, cradling her in his arms. Was he clinging to her as he lowered her feet to the ground, or was he merely being considerate of her comfort when he let her down so slowly?
She hesitated, her eyes fixed on his splattered boots. “Thank you,” she mumbled reluctantly.
His chest rose in a deep breath, held, and then he responded with a rigid, “Of course. Come, we cannot arrive too soon.”
An army of footmen awaited them, with maids following closely behind to sweep Elizabeth into the house. Distantly, she heard Mr Darcy giving orders that she was to have a hot bath and tea, and then he addressed the coachman about sending out riders. The last words she heard before being ushered upstairs were “We must not let this be known until the Bennets have removed from Corbett.”
MrDarcyhadanodd way of shunning a ruined family. Elizabeth hurried down to the drawing room that evening when the maid gave her the report that her mother and sisters had been brought to Pemberley. Not a cottage, not a coaching inn on the way back to London—no, they arrived in Pemberley’s entry hall in a flurry of lace and tears and loudness and very nearly turned the great house upside down in all their effusions and distress.
Elizabeth had spent the intervening time packing her belongings. No one had said she must, and Miss Darcy even protested, but it was the only reasonable course. All the gowns had been provided by Mr Darcy, and it would not be right to keep them—however, there was that one with walking stains and a slight rip from the hedges, and surely he would not mind if she kept just that one. She might mend it to look respectable when she sought other employment, and she could pay him for it later if he insisted. The one travelling bag she had placed beside the door looked pitifully small compared to the trunk that had arrived with her, but at least she had felt honest.
Now, she was truly confused. She stood in the midst of the drawing room as her mother wept upon her shoulder, and Kitty marvelled at the furnishings. Mary was wide-eyed, and Jane looked pale and fragile in the great room, despite Mr Bingley coming to ask after her comfort every other minute. Even Georgiana had joined the mayhem, going from one sister to the next in a vain effort at hospitality and consolation.
“Oh, Lizzy, it is the most dreadful thing ever!” Mrs Bennet mourned. “Our poor Lydia, did you hear? Fallen ill so suddenly! My dearest child! Speak to Mr Darcy, will you? That beast of a man would not let me to my own daughter, though I am perfectly sure he knows in which house she lays. What do I care for falling ill myself when my baby is so sick in a strange house? As if some farmer could care for my daughter as she deserves!”
“Mama...” Elizabeth pried herself free of her mother’s tearful embrace so she could look at Jane. “I do not understand. What are you speaking of?”
“Why, it is the scarlet fever, I just know it! Your Mr Darcy did not say as much—how very like a man! It is that or consumption, it simply must be. My child is at death’s door, and I am not permitted to see her! You see how meanly he treats me, for he would not even allow me to remain at our own house, lest I go out on my own to search for her.”
“I am sure that is not why he brought you here,” Elizabeth answered with a long-suffering sigh.
“Speak to him, will you, Lizzy? He listens to you.”
“Mama, I do not...” She broke off when Mr Darcy himself appeared at the door and bowed to her mother.
“Mrs Bennet, I have asked Mrs Reynolds to prepare rooms for you and each of your daughters. You will be shown up and made comfortable at once. If there is anything you desire, you have but to say the word.”
Elizabeth watched him with a furrowed brow. Where was the man who was so anxious to rid the area of her family’s scandal? He shifted his gaze to her and merely flicked his eyes to the right—as clear a direction as any he had ever given. Then he bowed and went out.
“Excuse me, Mama,” Elizabeth said breathlessly.
“Yes, yes, follow him, Lizzy. Find out where my Lydia is!”
“Idonotknowwhere your sister is.”
Elizabeth paced around to face him where he stood near the window. “Why did you tell my mother that she was an invalid in someone’s house?”
“I should have thought it obvious. Until we have better information, there is no reason to bring scandal upon your family. It may be that it is not yet too late.”
“Too late! It was too late the moment she walked out of the house with that picnic basket. I know very well that she must have intended to meet someone. It was all arranged beforehand! If only I had not trusted her—oh, it is my fault!”
Mr Darcy’s arms were crossed, and he had been leaning towards the window, but at her last utterance he rounded upon her.
“Your fault? Was it your fault when you sacrificed yourself to give your family a home?”
She looked away. “I hardly sacrificed mys—”
“What was it then, when you trusted your future to a stranger? When you let yourself be wed to a diseased wretch to provide for your mother? When you lowered yourself to a life of service—howbeit a temporary one—to make a home for your sisters?”
Elizabeth’s jaw was tight, and her nostrils distended with the effort of maintaining her composure. “It was you yourself who did all the providing.”
“Yet you maintained your end of the bargain with faith and diligence. None could consider any of this your fault, Elizabeth.”
She lifted her chin. “Why do you insist on calling me by my Christian name, sir?”
He blinked. “My apologies if I have offended. At such a time, I preferred—and I thought you would as well—not to recall your legal surname. What other reason could I have?”
