Page 57 of Her Affections and Wishes

“I look forward to it, so long as you still promise not to throw anything at me.”

This earned him a half smile. “Do you promise not to disregard my opinion and decide without me?”

Darcy gave her a gentle kiss. “If it means keeping you safe, then I am afraid I will always act single-mindedly, so you must allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on such occasions. But on every other subject, your opinion and advice and happiness shall be my guide.”

She must be sick and tired of everything, but she still lifted her face and let him kiss her in parting. He would have to content himself with that and hope that tomorrow was a better day for both of them.

As he was leaving the servants’ passage, he saw a maid with a tray turn toward Elizabeth’s door. “Are you on your way to Miss Bennet?” he called to her.

“Yes, sir. Lady Metcalfe sent her more willow bark tea.”

“Miss Bennet has retired for the night. She has asked that no one bother her.”

The maid did not question how he knew. Word of the jib-door trap and engagement must have spread through the house. “Lady Metcalfe told me to send the tray along with that lady’s apologies. Something about things her daughter said to Miss Bennet.”

At least Lady Metcalfe had the sense to be sorry for her accusations and unkindness. It might have been done for the sake of appearances, but it was better than nothing. Julia surely had no sense of proper behaviour.

“Miss Bennet does not want to be disturbed.” Or reminded of Julia’s existence until after a good night’s rest.

“Lady Metcalfe was insistent.”

There must be a way to let Elizabeth rest and not slight Lady Metcalfe. “Are you the one who tends to Miss Bennet in the morning?” She nodded. “You can pass on Lady Metcalfe’s sentiments then. There is no need to wake her for that. Miss Bennet rises early and Lady Metcalfe will not expect an answer before then, will she?”

“No, sir, but what about…” She hoisted the tray.

“I will take it so Lady Metcalfe will not be insulted,” he said, keeping his irritation at bay. It was not the maid’s fault Lady Metcalfe was still making a nuisance of herself. “She will hear it was delivered, you can collect the tray in the morning, and no one will be the wiser.”

Darcy gestured for the maid to turn around and go ahead of him. He would follow to his own room shortly. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was luring her under some pretext. No maid wanted to be alone with a male guest in his bedchamber at night. When he was sure she was gone, he left the passage and went to his own chamber.

His valet had packed most of his belongings, and Darcy dismissed him for the evening. He put away the few personal items still around his room, carefully wrapping the miniature of Pemberley. He would have to ask Elizabeth to sit for a portrait. Elizabeth’s trunks were packed, and since she rose early, he hoped they could get a stage in before breakfast.

Of course, she had asked him to not seek her out. He would wait until she found him or appeared at breakfast and leave after.

Elizabeth was as drained as he had ever seen her. Her innate kindness had almost failed her, and she had nothing left in her well to draw on to be lively or sporting or patient. Time would restore her to her typical cheerful temper, but what could he do to ease her mind? He supposed he would just have to ask her. Being a good and affectionate husband would require more than keeping his wife safe and adoring her.

Hopefully, Elizabeth would not entirely lose patience with him as he reckoned how to be a good husband.

His mood would improve once he was gone from Woodcote Park, and Elizabeth’s would too. He would see his friend in Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth would be restored to her family. Soon wedding plans and courtship and hopes for the future would occupy them both, and the memory of jealous women and cruel tricks would be long forgotten.

He read for a while, but decided to get ready for bed. The neglected teapot and cup were still on the side table. He ought to at least give the appearance of drinking it in case Lady Metcalfe asked in the kitchen if it had been drunk. Even as frustrated as Elizabeth was, she would not have wanted to insult Lady Metcalfe, but it must be cold by now.

He filled the cup half full and took a sip. It was strongly bitter, as he expected from willow bark, but it was also cold, and he winced. He held it in his mouth for a moment whilst deciding whether to swallow and finally choked it down. Hot and with sugar, he would have finished the cup. One sip for politeness was sufficient. He had done more than enough to spare Lady Metcalfe’s feelings.

He dressed for bed and went to blow out a candle, but a sudden heat crept up his throat. Had there been pepper in the tea? Had Julia got a hold of the teapot and played another trick on Elizabeth? He lifted the lid, but he could see nothing in the pot, no strange colour or odour.

The heat in his throat was now a burning fire and a nausea stabbed him. Vertigo hit him powerfully, and he staggered forward, blindly reaching for the chair to stay upright. Could he reach the bell pull for help? No illness had ever struck him so forcibly, so quickly as this.

What had happened, and where was he? Somehow, he was on the floor, but the room spun round. Dizzily, he tried to sit up and failed. It was as though all of his muscles were weak whilst his throat and stomach were on fire.

He had a glimpse of the table before he fell back down. He had tasted the tea meant for Elizabeth. It had been tampered with. He had to get to her room, but his vision faded out and in as his stomach heaved, his breath coming in quick gasps.

Julia had tried to poison Elizabeth.

Chapter Twelve

The restorative power of a good night’s sleep was not to be underestimated. Elizabeth awoke Saturday morning in a far better mood than when Darcy left her last night. She had allowed Julia’s animosity and Darcy’s impulsive pronouncement to get the better of her. All he had done was manage the situation differently than she would have. It only moved up their plans and exposed her to Julia’s vitriol and spite a little sooner. At least now they could go home and begin their life together.

It was her temper to be happy, and now she felt right again.