Again, thank you all so much for your support and Shey72 in particular for betaing this story. You guys rock! Also, sorry for my current tardiness with my updates, but as said already, RL is a bit hectic at the moment and I am trying my best to keep up with writing this and also am onto a new chapter for both my Sherlock Holmes story as well as Never mind, but unfortunately a day has only 24 hours to it. Darn!

Love

Nic

Chapter 25

Rest when you're weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. Then get back to work.

Ralph Marston

The unpleasantness of the situation was made worse by the embarrassment of having been here for less than a month before falling ill, and even Peters' assurance that those kinds of things happened all the time, did little to console Darcy in his present state. He did not deal well with being ill even at the best of times and being ill lying in a tiny chamber with little to do but stare at the wall was ultimately worse. Well, he had not been this grumpy since he had left London and it was the only consolation that of late he had found society even more bothersome than a fever.

But with nothing to read, all Darcy could do was feel sorry for himself and besides, it was cold up here over the stables, and the air was somewhat stale. It had not bothered him before, but now it did as querulously he turned from one side over to the other and back again. If only he could sleep a little, but even that was denied him for some or other sinister reason. Not that he was bothered by his work-fellows or the animals shuffling around down below, no, he just was too restless. Restless and cranky and all in all feeling too sorry for himself.

Tom had been kind enough to bring over his meals so he would not need to go over to the house, and yes, he was grateful for that. Very much so. On the other hand, a little company would have been nice as well. Even if he only listened to what the others were saying or the kitchen maids singing as they did their chores while he sat by the fire. Yet there he would have been in Smith's way again and besides, he was quite groggy and glad that he could lay down.

And then there was the concern for Miss Elizabeth. After all, he had not been the only one who had gotten thoroughly wet two days ago. And if he had caught a cold, what about a fair lady? Was not a lady's constitution a lot less robust than that of a man? What if she too had to stay in bed suffering just as he did?

The only consolation in that respect was, that she had a loving family to care for her, and likely something to read and a warm fire to sit in front of.

A curt knock on the door sounded, rousing him from his thoughts and in stepped John, sporting his dourest expression, without as much as waiting for an answer, carrying a tray of steaming hot tea and a book.

"You are lucky, William, to be able to lie around all day," the young lad remarked, plunking down the tray onto the chair beside Darcy's bed with little regard to the fact that tea was spilling everywhere. "I wish I could do that whenever I felt like it."

"Well, in this case if I could, I would willingly swap with you, for I would prefer to be out and about without having a fever and sore throat," he croaked back, eagerly reaching for the book.

"Miss Elizabeth thought you might want to read something, had it from Peters that you were ill when she was out walking."

Really? That was very considerate. Oh, and it was also good to know that she was out and about and obviously not sick herself.

Realising that John looked at him inquisitively Darcy raised a questioning eyebrow to indicate his growing irritation with the boy. John was not the most industrious lad to begin with, hardly ever offering to lend a hand even when everyone around him was busy, hustling and bustling around him, while he sat at the kitchen table idling away his time; that is until ultimately Smith or Hill caught sight of him and made him help. But it really always required one of the senior servants to remind him of his duties. But in the end, he was nothing but a typical boy of fourteen, slightly sulky, always hungry and never very fast. He would grow out of it eventually, as every young boy did.

When after a couple of minutes John still just stared at him, Darcy asked: "Well, what is it?"

"Why would Miss Elizabeth send you a book?"

"I presume because she thought it might help me pass the time. She knows that I'm teaching you all how to read and write – as you might know from the fact that she provided the slates and old textbooks."

"Hm," was all the boys huffed reply before he turned and walked out of the room, habitually forgetting to close the door behind him.

Getting up to pour himself a mug of tea and to close the door to keep out the draught, Darcy could not help wondering whether it had been Elizabeth Bennet's wisest idea to send the book after all. He appreciated her thoughtfulness, but then again, he did have to question whether he himself would have thought of something like this had one of his servants been ill. Darcy, without praising himself unduly, knew he was a very considerate master, but no, he in all likeliness would not have done so despite knowing that basically, all his servants knew how to read. In this instance, it was close to an admission that Miss Bennet and he were by now better acquainted than they should be.

But on second thought, Darcy consoled himself with what he had heard about the Bennets, and that they were in general very considerate and though not mingling with their servants, always treated them kindly and with respect – as fellow creatures and not a commodity taken for granted. Perhaps he should not ponder on John's general sense of being treated unfairly. What was the point anyway?

Despite his resolution, he decided nonetheless to find out more about the boy. As with many young servants in their first position, it was nothing more than being severely homesick that made them such timid and generally unhappy creatures. And as it was, he had not heard of any relative of John's living nearby and if he had to venture a guess, judging from his accent, he was not from around here. If he thought about his own first months at Eton, he had a pretty good idea what went on in the lad's head and heart.

Taking the first sip, Darcy was pleasantly surprised to find that the tea was stronger than the servants' usual brew and the next pleasant surprise was, that the volume sent by Miss Elizabeth happened to be Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, one of his boyhood favourites. Ha, and indeed, he had not read it in a good while, though he had always meant to do so yet never got around to it until now and by sheer coincidence.