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Elizabeth gasped and shot a panicked look at Darcy.
“You are both safe here,” Whitmore reassured her. “Marie’s family is an important one and her uncle lives not far away. They have been enough to protect me for years. No one will arrest me or a guest under my roof – and our servants are loyal; they will not reveal your presence here.”
Darcy nodded slowly. “The danger will be when we leave here to seek passage across the Channel.”
“Just so,” Whitmore concurred reluctantly. “And I am afraid Calais is where they will expect to find the most Englishmen. You must find passage to England from somewhere else. I will investigate your options.”
Elizabeth grew ghostly pale. “Then we must leave as soon as possible. Departing will only grow more difficult with time.”
Darcy shook his head emphatically. “No, the doctor said you could not travel for several more days.” The stricken look remained on her face. Darcy cast about for ways to reassure her. “Do not worry. We will find a way home. I might be required to hire a fishing boat, but we will arrive safely.”
Elizabeth had a stubborn set to her mouth as she voiced her objections. “We should leave immediately. I am so much better. I would be fine on a trip – traveling by carriage is not so fatiguing.”
Darcy knew how determined she could be, but knew he could not give in to her on this issue. “I cannot live with the thought that I might risk your health.” Whitmore immediately voiced his support for Darcy’s position.
She considered for a moment. “I will ask the doctor about it in the morning.” Darcy sighed, but he was satisfied; he knew the doctor would support his assertions. “If he will not allow me to travel,” she continued, fixing Darcy with her gaze, “you must leave without me.”
Darcy started in shock. “That is not an option!”
Elizabeth appeared ready to argue, but Marie stood, signaling the end of dinner. Fortunately, Darcy had been seated next to Elizabeth, so he noticed her sway when she stood. He caught her just as she crumpled to the floor. She awakened immediately in his arms. “Oh, Mr. Darcy. I suppose I fainted.”
“Yes, I believe so.” The look he gave her betrayed both concern and amusement.
“Thank you for catching me.” A blush crept over her cheeks.
“You are most welcome, but I want to hear no more about being well enough to travel.”
She bit her lip with a small smile. “I suppose it did undermine my argument.”
“Yes, I think it did.” He smiled as he carried her to her room, enjoying the novel sensations of her in his arms. When they arrived at her room, he knew the gentlemanly act would be to set her down on the bed at once, but he did not want to. It felt so right to be holding her thus. If only he could stand there forever, enjoying the sensation of her body touching his. Finally, he laid her on the bed, but caressed her thigh a little with his thumb as he withdrew his hands. She started and blushed, but did not protest – and he gratefully took that as a small sign of acceptance. Before he completely removed his arms, she straightened up and gave him a small kiss on his cheek, causing his heart to skip a beat.
Reluctantly Darcy realized that now was not the time to begin a more serious discussion. “I will have Whitmore summon the doctor. Your fainting spell could be a sign of a more serious problem.” She shook her head feebly, but did not say anything. “You should sleep.” Already apparently fatigued, she nodded and he silently left the room.
Two days later Darcy agreed to escort Elizabeth on a brief walk in Whitmore’s formal French garden. There had been no recurrence of her fainting spell and her improvement had been steady, but she chafed at being confined inside. Although Darcy had taken occasional walks, he felt the lack of exercise as well. The weather had turned warmer as sunny weather had overtaken two weeks of rainy and overcast days. It was beautiful clear day, not too warm and perfect for walking.
Elizabeth indulged in a deep breath of fresh air. “Oh, it is so lovely not to be indoors! What beautiful gardens.” She stopped to admire and smell a rose – while Darcy admired her. “This is infinitely superior to lying in bed.”
Darcy was delighting in watching her experience the garden. “I would expect so.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, Darcy enjoying it when Elizabeth took his arm and leaned on him lightly for support; however, the scent of her – like lilacs and summer days – and her sheer physical proximity threatened his self-control. It was all too easy to imagine pulling her toward him and ravaging her mouth with his. Caressing her hand, he enjoyed the soft silkiness of her skin and tried not to imagine the texture of the skin elsewhere on her body. The possibility that someday he might have the opportunity to touch every inch of her was tantalizing; his whole body quivered with barely contained longing. He could not live with this uncertainty much longer. He emerged from his reverie to find Elizabeth regarding him quizzically. I have been silent for quite a while, he realized, praying that he was not blushing. I hope she cannot guess what I am thinking.
To cover his discomposure Darcy asked a question that had long been on his mind. “How much do you remember of the time when you were ill and feverish?” He asked.
Her eyes gazed at nothing as she thought for a moment. “I remember mostly bits and pieces, but it is difficult to know which things are real and which were the product of a delirious imagination. Although I am pretty sure that the talking lion who offered me tea was not real.” She smiled archly at him.
He chuckled. “I never saw such a creature in your room, so I believe you are correct.” Taking a deep breath, he asked the question that had occupied his every waking thought since her recovery. “How much do you remember of the night before your fever broke?” He held his breath while waiting for her answer and his heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Gazing down he noticed that his hands were trembling.
She blushed furiously, telling him that she must remember something. “Please forget what I said that night.” The words came out in a rush.
Darcy’s heart sank. She had changed her mind. She did not love him! “Why?” He asked.
She was looking everywhere but him. “I was much too…bold…The fever, I am afraid, loosened my tongue…and I said some things…and made assumptions…about your feelings….” Her gaze raised anxiously to his.
Darcy exhaled a relieved breath. Apparently, she did not seem to regret the sentiments themselves, merely the voicing of them. He gazed intently into her delicate brown eyes, willing his eyes to radiate the warmth he felt. “You made no assumptions that were not correct. My affections and wishes are unchanged.” Elizabeth seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, and soon turned her gaze away.
He had no way to read her face; her expression was inscrutable. It was agony not knowing what she thought. “My concern,” he continued, “had to do with whether your sentiments had changed. I would not hold you to something you said—”
“—While delirious?” She finished the sentence for him, although her eyes were still fixed on her feet. “I had a fever, but the expression of my sentiments was…accurate.” Finally she looked up, gazing steadily into his eyes. “I do love you.”
