REVIVAL
Elizabeth escaped Darcy's study and fled down the hall where the butler once more greeted her with a pleasant smile, "I'll call you a cab, Miss Bennet."
She shook her head, "I'll get a cab on High Street."
He was genuinely dismayed, "But Miss Bennet, you'll catch your death. Please allow me to call a cab. It would be foolhardy to walk out in such raw weather."
Privately she had to agree. However, the poor man was unaware that at the moment she was feeling far from sensible. The need to escape the house was too overpowering. She dared not wait around for a further ten minutes in case his master decided to engage her in further repartee. But already it was too late. She heard his footsteps coming down the hall and she brushed past the butler and threw open the door before turning back like an animal at bay. "I'll be fine. Thank you very much. I have everything under control." She shut the door behind her and sped down the steps as if the demons of hell were in hot pursuit. Despite the frigid weather her face was burning. Everything under control? She was in panic mode. It had been nearly intolerable facing him in the dim light of his study remembering how she had submitted to him writhing and moaning like a wanton hussy. She could not face him in the brightness of the foyer. It was all too mortifying! Too humiliating! Too..too..whatever! She was sure he must be standing at the window... could even feel his eyes on her back. She picked up speed desperate to flee the cul-de-sac and get out of the sight of his house, out of his sight.
She couldn't even laugh at her paranoia for there was nothing remotely amusing about the situation. She'd damned near had a heart attack to see him in such close quarters. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, the last thing she expected was to walk into a room to interview for a job and come face to face with the man who had occupied her thoughts for the last eight months. She had tried so hard to forget him and get on with her life and she thought she had succeeded. And now to meet him again...to search his face for a sign of recognition and see nothing but polite interest had been excruciating. Worse still was the touch of curiosity she saw in his eyes no doubt due to Richard's enthusiasm for the two of them to meet. With Richard's devotion to the outlandish there was no telling what he had told Darcy about her. For all she knew he had hinted at a romance between the two of them. She could even imagine that Richard had convinced Darcy to hire her in order to further their love affair. As this thought crossed her mind she let out a groan of anguish. Her flight of fancy had taken wing. She was as bad as Richard. How had it come to this? Why had she let this happen? Could she have prevented it?
Her breath had turned ragged and she stopped and leaned against a tree desperate not to faint or shed tears. It was all very Greek! Both wearing masks and subject to the will of the gods. It even came with it's own chorus. First Richard, then Charlotte, and finally Lydia had all worked on her insisting that a chance to work for Fitzwilliam Darcy was a golden opportunity. And she had taken the bait. Now he expected her to show up at his home and work with him. And he would be sleeping in the East Wing down the hall from her with the Sword of Damocles no doubt dangling above her bed. She was sure the gods were laughing at her predicament when she heard a distant clap of thunder, but it was only signaling the onset of a storm. She hurried her steps still a good three blocks from High Street.
When the cab dropped her off in front of her flat the rain still hadn't begun in earnest but she wasn't yet ready for confinement in the quiet of her flat. On a whim she crossed the street and walked a further half-block. Visiting a very expensive gourmet shop was just the thing to kill time and soothe her feverish brain. Hardly glancing at her choices she filled her basket with a variety of artisanal cheeses and specialty crackers then topped it all with a portions of truffles, foie gras mousse and some smoked salmon. As a special treat for Lydia she purchased a small jar of Beluga caviar. She completed the basket with a couple of gooseberry tarts and a jar of Cornish cream. She magnanimously allowed the owner to pick out the perfect wines to go with her treats with a promise her purchases would be delivered within thirty minutes.
Once home she rang Lydia and told her not to bring home the usual take-out, then took a quick shower in a feeble attempt to wash away the confusion and distress she felt, desperate to erase the memory of the ordeal. Over and over she continued to relive that moment when he had stepped from the darkness into the light and faced her with his gentle smile. She didn't dare weep fearing once she started she would be unable to stop.
Afterwards, snug in her robe, she made a cup of tea to calm herself before sitting down to contemplate exactly what she was going to tell her sister. She'd had no real hope of attaining the position at Pemberley so saw no reason to tell Lydia that she had an appointment with the elusive Mr. Darcy. Knowing how Lydia's mind worked she didn't want her sister to get too excited and start fantasizing. Lydia saw romance in every situation and would no doubt see Elizabeth married to a millionaire and living like a queen within a week In her sister's world failure was not an option. There was also a possibility that she would call Charlotte or Jane and share her thoughts on the subject and the last thing she needed was such silliness to get back to the hapless millionaire. As it turned out it was wise decision on her part. The interview had been intolerable enough but her pride would never have recovered if he thought she was a gold digger as well as a woman of easy virtue.
Now she supposed that whether she took the job or didn't, Lydia would have to be told who Mr. Darcy was...or was it who Smithy was? There was a danger inherent in the situation. Suppose Lydia was invited to join Charlotte and Jane at Pemberley for a weekend? How could she stop her? And if she did take the job what could possibly stop her from a surprise visit? She would certainly have to admonish her not to drop in unexpectedly as she would now be only a lowly employee; an employee who had slept with her boss. Her only hope was that Lydia would be too busy with her new position for at least a few months to think of driving up to Derbyshire.
Once more a groan escaped her. Could she actually be thinking of taking the job? Reason dictated that she should call Darcy back and decline the position. It was a truth universally acknowledged that lovers couldn't keep their eyes off each other. How could she possibly live in the same house with him and manage not to demean herself? For an instant she saw herself sitting at a desk gazing dewy-eyed at her employer while a milky white hand clasped her half-naked breast in a futile attempt to still the beating of her heart. She been reading too many romance novels. If she did go to Pemberley..and still wasn't convinced she should... she would have to be on her guard every minute, never allowing her mask of indifference to slip. It wasn't only Darcy she feared but Richard as well. He had perpetuated a lie that she was now privy to. As much as he enjoyed wearing the prankster's mask behind that mask lay an astute mind. Perhaps she should explain the situation to Richard and let him decide? She dismissed the notion immediately. In her heart she knew there was a good chance that Richard would counsel her to step back..might even suggest another way of meeting him. Or he might tell her that Darcy was already interested in another woman. That was a distinct possibility. A rich and wealthy man of his reputation surely had had a love life before he went to war. It was unreasonable to think he hadn't picked up where he had left off. Her own words haunted her. 'Somewhere out there a beautiful woman is waiting for you. Her name is Emily or Margaret or Patience. It could even be Elizabeth.' How could she insinuate herself into his family? If he ever regained his memory he might not be eager to find her underfoot. She didn't want his pity nor his anger.
When the doorbell rang she jumped at the sudden intrusion. A sure sign her nerves were shot. She tipped the delivery boy handsomely and left the basket on the table for Lydia to unpack. She stood for a long moment staring at the basket of treats wondering what had prompted her to spend so freely. It smacked too near a celebration. Was it possible that she had moved so swiftly from shock and embarrassment to excitement and anticipation? Could she still be so enamored of him that she was willing to risk further heartbreak? She had to think of what she should do. She couldn't imagine what he had gone through for the past eight months knowing he had lost time from his life. Richard had described him as disengaged and lost since returning home. In many ways he must have been suffering not for what he'd lost but from wondering what he had lost. She could not be the instrument for more grief. What had she been thinking to accept the position? She was staring into an abyss.
She needed a drink and decided not to wait until Lydia arrived. After struggling to open a bottle of wine without shredding the cork too much she poured a glass and downed it in two gulps. She stood quietly and waited for the alcohol to do it's job trying desperately not to relive the moment when she realized she had unwittingly found Smithy. Instead of calming her the wine had caused her brain to implode sending her thoughts in seven different directions each one more confused. She was just pouring another glass of wine when the phone rang.
"Congratulations, " Richard cried over the line. "And welcome to our little family. I knew he'd like you."
"You must be joking," she cried. "I'm sure he thought I was a twit!"
Richard laughed hardily, "Nonsense! He thought you rather amusing. Especially the way you left his house in such a hurry. He compared you to a skittish colt.
He assumed you were hurrying off to impart your good news to your lover."
"He what?"
"Joking, my dear, just joking, though he hoped you didn't catch pneumonia."
"Richard, I really would appreciate it if you would refrain from making me the butt of your jokes. As for my hurried departure, when I made the appointment with him I'd forgotten that I had invited some friends over tonight for a small party to celebrate my sister's promotion."
"A party? I love a party! Am I invited?"
"Sorry, it's a hen party. No men allowed."
"Oh, well. Darcy and I will simply have to amuse ourselves another way."
Elizabeth dropped in her chair spilling her drink down the front of her robe. The very idea of Darcy showing up at her flat made her eyes cross. She could just imagine Lydia's reaction and the pandemonium that would ensue. "Richard, I'm really having second thoughts. I'm just not sure I'm qualified for the position. I really don't think I'm secretarial material."
"That's good. He doesn't want a secretary. He wants an assistant. And you're it. He's very pleased with you and said so."
She couldn't help herself, "Really? What did he say?"
"He said he's very pleased with you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Richard but I simply don't understand why he hired me."
"And I don't understand why you care? Isn't it enough to know that Darcy offered you the job? I hope I haven't given you the wrong impression of him. I admit that he isn't the man who came back from the war...none of us are... but he isn't an idiot. He knows what he wants and won't settle for less. If he says he's pleased with your qualifications then accept it. What's happened to your spirit? The girl I knew in Sussex would never question her own abilities."
"Perhaps I grew up."
"Then grow back down. I miss the old Nurse Lizzie."
"Nurse Lizzie is dead."
"Who killed her, Lizzie?"
She hesitated too long but for the life of her she couldn't come up with a clever line. "Richard, I really have to ring off. I've a million things to do before our guests arrive."
"Of course, Lizzy. And congratulations once more. And remember that there isn't anything you can't do if you set your mind to it. I'll see you at Pemberley."
After Richard rang off Elizabeth set the fire, poured another glass of wine and sat down forcing herself to relax and free her mind with the mesmerizing effect of the blue and orange flames. Richard hadn't exactly accused her of being a craven coward but she suspected that he was probably disappointed in her and it didn't set well with the image she held of herself. What had happened to her self confidence? What had happened to the girl who had gone off to school with no fear of the unknown, anxious to gain her goals and sure she could. She'd known exactly what she wanted and worked hard to achieve it with never a doubt that she could and would succeed. She no longer recognized that young woman. As terrible as the experience in Sussex had been; as rueful she'd become realizing that nursing wasn't for her, she fulfilled her obligations determined not to fail her country or herself. And what of the woman who had taken pity on a stranger who's heart had touched her? She hadn't been able to leave him to fend for himself seeing how unhappy he was. Surely that had shown confidence.
When had she allowed herself to become a pathetic shell of the woman she had once been? Instead of showing the strength that she knew she had she'd allowed her broken heart to break her spirit. Instead of accepting her loss she had wallowed in self-pity waiting for his return so she could live happily ever after.
And yet when the impossible happened she was perfectly willing to run away and hide Instead of taking control of her life she was desperate to find any reason not to reach out for happiness. She was thoroughly ashamed of herself. Who indeed had killed Nurse Lizzie? She thought perhaps she had.
An hour later, Lydia blew in, soaked to the skin. Elizabeth gave her a minute to squeal her delight over the basket, especially the jar of caviar which was one of her favorites. Lydia insisted on tasting the caviar and sighed in ecstasy while Elizabeth made a face. There was no accounting taste. Elizabeth thought that caviar tasted like fishy buckshot. Finally she pushed her out of the kitchen so Lydia could dry off and get comfortable. In the meantime Elizabeth filled a platter with the various treats still trying to determine whether she should take a chance and spoil a pleasant evening or simply come out with it and tell her sister how her day had passed. Beyond the fact that she wanted to confide her news with someone, she couldn't see how she could avoid unnecessary trouble without letting Lydia in on her secret.
Patience was the rule as Lydia chatted happily about her new responsibilities while sampling everything on the platter. Once Lydia was sated and had leaned back to enjoy her second glass of wine Elizabeth took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Lydia, did you ever discuss Smithy with either Charlotte or Jane?"
"Heavens! Why ever would you ask such a question? I would never betray you like that."
"Not intentionally, I know. But sometimes we all can be indiscreet without meaning to."
"Lizzie, I know I let my mouth run away at times but believe me, I have never uttered his name. Why on earth would you bring that up after all this time? Surely you're not still thinking about him?"
"Lydia, today I met with Mr. Darcy." As expected, Lydia's eyes grew wide with excitement and Elizabeth raised her hand to silence her. "Let me finish. He offered me the job and I accepted it." Once more Elizabeth raised her hand, "There's more, Lydia. Let me finish before you get hysterical." She waited calmly while her sister refreshed their glasses and settled back full of anticipation. "Lydia, I also met Smithy. He and Mr. Darcy are one and the same."
Lydia regarded her sister with a wry smile, "It's good to know you can joke about Smithy. I was afraid you'd never get over him."
"One and the same, Lydia. One and the same."
"But..but that can't be, Lizzie. You said that Mr. Darcy was middle aged and bowlegged. It can't be Smithy."
The last thing she expected from her sister was denial. "Lydia, I haven't lost my mind. Richard takes great pleasure in skewing the truth for comical effect.. Trust me, it was Smithy. I was as close to him as I am to you."
"Oh, Lizzie, surely Charlotte or Jane would have mentioned it. They said that he was found in a French hospital."
"It was what they were told. The family values their privacy. They wouldn't have wanted the truth to come out."
"I can't believe this. Maybe he just looked like Smithy. What did he say?
"He asked me if I would mind living in the country. Lydia, he didn't recognize me."
If it hadn't been so serious, Elizabeth might have found amusement watching her sister trying to digest this information. Lydia reached for the jar of caviar, thought better of it, and began to fidget, playing with a bracelet. She finally leveled a look at Elizabeth. "What are you going to do?"
"I haven't made up my mind. At least I don't think I have."
"Well why doesn't that surprise me? But if that's the case, I suggest you crawl under your bed for a month or two until you decide what to do."
Elizabeth stared at her sister in shock, "Lydia! Why on earth would you say such a thing?"
"Don't look at me like that, Lizzie. For the past eight months you've been walking around in a daze. Do you think I haven't seen how you constantly search the crowds looking for his face? Even when we go to a restaurant you can't help looking up every time the door opens. Personally I can't imagine what man could be worth all that suffering, but apparently you can. So what happens next? Out of the blue you stumble over him in the most unlikely place and he offers you a job. Not any job, mind you. He wants you to come to his home and live and work with him. When I met him in Hertfordshire a year ago I could see how much he loved you and I can see how much you still love him. So why the hell are you hesitating?"
"Fear," Elizabeth replied quietly.
'Well get over it and get angry. Fate dealt you a nasty blow and you rolled over and played dead. Now you've been given another chance at happiness. Don't you dare tell me that you don't know what to do! If he could fall in love with you once, he can do it again. And if he doesn't, then you've lost nothing. But don't let this chance pass you by or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
"That's twice I've been reprimanded for my attitude. Richard intimated that I'd become a shrinking violet."
"He must be a very good friend."
Elizabeth nodded, "Yes he is. And so are you. So, I suppose they dress for dinner at Pemberley. I think that calls for another shopping spree."
When Darcy entered his study he stopped short seeing his cousin Richard had taken possession of his chair and had planted his feet on the desk. Not only did he look comfortable but he was smiling at the ceiling. Darcy took the chair opposite, "I know that smile, cousin. What mischief are you up to?"
"No mischief. I just got off the phone with Miss Bennet. She invariably makes me laugh. She's certain you think she's a twit."
"Why on earth would she think that?"
"Because you hired her."
"Wouldn't that make me a twit?"
"Let me rephrase that. She thinks she is a twit and wonders why you hired her. I'm curious too. Why did you?"
"It certainly wasn't your exaggerated litany of her skills, as amusing as they were. It was Charlotte's assessment of her. Charlotte isn't easily impressed so I was more inclined to believe what she said about Miss Bennet. She described her as quietly intelligent with a sense of humor. Your only contribution was how she acquitted herself down in Sussex. It was obvious how much you admired her dedication and the empathy she felt for the young men in her charge. I confess she piqued my interest but if I hadn't dreaded the prospect of dealing with an employment agency I probably wouldn't have considered her."
"Alright. That makes sense. So I know why you met with her. But what prompted you to hire her?"
"She seemed to have a sense of humor where you were concerned."
She's very lovely, don't you think?"
"Tolerable."
Richard eyed him with amusement, "high praise. But what do you really think?"
Darcy shrugged, "She has nursing experience and she can teach the rudiments of library science. Hopefully she can write a letter without too many mistakes. I think she'll work out very well"
"Is that all you can say?"
"What do you want me to say? You assured me that you have no romantic interest in Miss Bennet. I hope you weren't lying to me or yourself. With your history of leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake it might be amusing to see, but following Miss Bennet around Pemberley like a lost puppy would be a novelty that would soon pall."
Richard laughed hardily. "You paint a pretty picture but I assure you we are just good friends."
"Is that how she sees it?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you've lost your charisma."
"Impossible!"
"I don't know, Richard. Caroline Bingley looks like she's sucking on a lemon when she's in your company, Charlotte refers to you as her half-wit cousin, and now Miss Bennet failing to fall under your spell. Either Miss Bennet shows an inordinate amount of good sense or you're not as charming as you thought you were."
"Caroline Bingley was born with an acute case of indigestion and Charlotte has never forgiven me for tossing her in the lake when we were youngsters. As for Miss Bennet, I have a feeling something happened to her after she left Sussex. There's an aura of sadness about her that wasn't there when I first met her."
"The war?"
"Possibly, or a broken heart."
"What man would break her heart? Don't be ridiculous!"
Richard blinked in astonishment and regarded his cousin with interest, "You're right, of course. Who would dump a girl who was only tolerable." Darcy ignored the bait. Instead, Richard watched his hand move absently to his vest pocket in a habit that he had developed since his return from the dead. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him seeing his cousin so unhappy. "What say we attend the theatre tonight? It will lift our spirits to have a night on the town."
"My spirits are just fine, Richard, but I'll be glad to join you. Ring Bingley. It will be like old times."
A few days later Richard skipped lightly up the steps of Pemberley. whistling a happy tune. He was in an exceptionally good mood. Darcy had stayed behind in town to spend a couple of days perusing the vast store of books at the main library as well as haunt the myriad collection of out of the way bookstalls that had spread throughout London. By happy chance Darcy had mentioned that Miss Bennet preferred to be awakened by the morning sun and ever eager to be of assistance, Richard had volunteered to stop by Pemberley of his way north to Matlock House. It would be his pleasure to inform Caroline of the need to prepare a suite in the East Wing for his new assistant.
The heavy doors of the mansion swung open as he reached the landing and he was greeted with genuine pleasure by the butler who had served the Darcys for more than thirty years. "How the missus, John? In a good mood I hope. I expect one of her excellent dinners tonight."
"I last saw her as she was preparing a fine toadstool broth for the household manager, sir"
"Right. Well I'll pass on the soup tonight. And where is the household manager?"
"I last spied her scurrying along a corridor above stairs, sir."
Richard threw his head back laughing merrily, "For that you deserve a bottle from the cellar. If she's left any."
"Thank you, Mister Richard, but I've been keeping an account of the cellar's contents and she knows it.. It also helped to change the lock."
"Good man."
He took the stairs two at a time but hadn't reached the first floor before Caroline Bingley appeared on the landing above him, arms akimbo, enjoying the advantage of extra height. "Ah, Miss Bingley," he cried stepping up to regain his advantage, "how delightful to see your happy countenance on such a gray day and just the woman I wanted to see."
She eyed him with her usual distaste, "I can't imagine what business you would have with me."
"I've come with orders from my lord and master."
"How droll of you. I wasn't aware you had a superior."
"I love it when you tease me."
"Get on with it. What does Darcy require."
"What? No time for idle chatter? No exchanges of pleasantries? Well, I'll get right down to it. My cousin appears to have employed a personal assistant who will need a suite of rooms in the east wing."
"Impossible. There are none available."
"I beg to differ with you, Miss Bingley. There are four suites. One for Darcy, one for Georgiana, and one for Lady Catherine. The fourth is available and Darcy wants it for his assistant." He watched with great interest as her face blanched from flushed to a waxy gray. "The assistant will be here to take up residence on Thursday."
"I can give him a suite in the west wing."
Thoroughly enjoying himself, Richard favored her with a gentle smile, "I fear that won't do, my dear Miss Bingley. Darcy specified the east wing. He wants to be close to his aide in case he feels the need for a consultation in the middle of the night. You'll simply have to vacate your rooms and move to the west wing. I'm sure Mr. Collins would be delighted to have such a dainty damsel sleeping across the hall from him. Of course if that doesn't suit you, you can always move into the housekeeper's quarters below stairs. Mrs. Reynold lived in those rooms for forty years and was quite comfortable."
Richard thought for a moment that she would strike him. Unfortunately she resisted the urge and turned from him and headed...or scurried...down the hall. He couldn't resist one more barb, "Have a nice day Miss Bingley."
There was a small reading room just off the the first floor landing and that's where William Collins was sitting when he heard the exchange between Richard and Caroline. He smiled as he heard Richard whistling a tuneless air as the young wag slowly descended the stairs. Mischief was afoot! He could feel it in his bones. He moved towards the window and stared out at the barren hills of Derbyshire. Strange how life could make so many little turns. Months earlier he was ready to return to Hunsford and again take up the reins of his small parish. But that was before Fitzwilliam Darcy had mysteriously reappeared, supposedly found at a French hospital. It was an interesting story as stories go, but he didn't believe a word of it. He hadn't been a patient, nor had he been a prisoner of war. He was tanned and looked too healthy and well fed to have been languishing in a hospital or for that matter, a prisoner of a war camp. So, why the story? Where had he been?
He found great amusement in writing stories in his head. Darcy had been shipwrecked on a distant isle and had turned savage. Naturally he had to be civilized before he returned to polite society, for dinners of the upper class didn't contain beetles or grubs and it wouldn't tolerate a guest who wore nothing but a loincloth to a dance assembly. Or possibly he had fallen in love with Mata Hari and went mad when the French shot his sweet potato as a spy and was forced to take sanity classes before he was allowed to return to England. It was all harmless fun created solely for the pleasure of Lady Cat who enjoyed a good laugh when she was sober.
Unfortunately, the Fitzwilliam Darcy he had come to admire and respect showed no signs of savagery or madness and he was running out of ideas as to where he might have been for nearly a year. But now something new had been added for his amusement. Why had Richard Fitzwillliam gone out of his way to deliver this message when a trunk call would have served? And why had he sounded so pleased with himself? What had he said? Darcy might need to consult with his assistant in the middle of the night? Put that way, it sounded more like an assignation. His eyes narrowed in thought before he was able to smile in understanding. It wasn't what Richard had said. It was what he hadn't said. He hadn't used any pronouns when referring to the assistant. Caroline had jumped to the wrong conclusion. It was not a he, but a she. Could it be the beautiful, multi-talented nurse-librarian- fastest typewriter in England, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? If so, Caroline would come unhinged. But not before she killed Richard. He chucked lightly thinking of the next story he would write in his head.
