Elizabeth's third day as governess was much more boring and much less revealing than her second day. She spent the morning teaching little Hinton of the crystal blue eyes and dashing smile to read, then spent the afternoon in music and dancing lessons with Elaina and Rene. It seemed that they had lacked the proper education for ladies of their station while growing up in America. True, they had a hardiness, independence, and courage that only an American woman could exude, but they simply lacked the obvious refinements. Neither could needlepoint, neither were versed in the polite topics of conversation, neither danced at all, and neither knew proper table etiquette. They were bright, intelligent, spirited young women, but would be found completly lacking when facing Caroline Bingley and those of her ilk. Elizabeth did not want the girls to be hurt. Or rather, as it was more likely, for anyone insulting the girls to be punched, by the girls or their protective and adoring father. Elizabeth had her work cut out for her.
She would not stop helping them once she married Mr. Darcy. This she had firmly decided. The elder girl intrigued her as only someone who is deep, and mysterious and inexplicably lonely can. And the younger one reminded her of her own younger sisters, only different. This one acted silly for a reason, and Elizabeth had no idea why. Why would a girl, so obviously talanted, go to such great lengths to cover it?
The first ten minutes at the piano that afternoon had gone wonderful, Rene picking up the art geniously. But after several praises from Elizabeth, Elaina, and even Mr. Jones who had idley strolled by the room, Rene started purposefully missing keys, feining ignorance, asserting: "I shall quit! I am no good at it anyway." She did not try at all the rest of the lesson, and Elizabeth was glad when Hinton came running into the music room proclaiming that he needed his Miss. Bennet to help him paint a picture.
Then she had helped him climb a tree, and then watched him run races with a neighbor boy, and listened to his plans to build a boat before she drug the reluctant boy back to the house for dinner. He was a charming child, all smiles, sparkling eyes, and rampant energy.
Mr. Darcy was not at dinner. Matter of fact, Elizabeth had not seen her fiancee since her first day as governess and his future wife, when after lunch he passed her fleetingly in the hallway on her way to the girls' rooms. He had given her the most heart melting smile and his hand had briefly brushed against her own...
Where was he? She wanted to see him, to talk to him. She hadn't had a good conversation with him since they had dispelled all of their misunderstandings. That conversation had led to other passtimes that required the use of the lips for quite different services. And, though she supposed it was not at all proper or decorous (as if any of her actions since her horrid wedding day to Collins had been, and perhaps because of this), she felt she had a right as Darcy's intended, to these sort of attentions. Yes, her undeniable right was being abused, and the one who had bestowed it upon her was abusing it.
She walked to her room with these thoughts dominating her mind. She had told Rene and Elaina that she would read alone in her bedroom tonight instead of keeping company with them in the sitting room that connected their two bedrooms. They had of course assented, knowing they could argue all they wanted without bugging anyone else if she did this. But when Elizabeth reached her room, she could not concentrate on her book, or writing the very complicated letter to her siste that she had been planning out over the last two nights. So she walked around the room. She knew what was making her restless. She missed Mr. Darcy.
Stopping in front of her beureau, she opened the dark wooden doors and fingered the brown silk that hung temptingly inside. This dress had been her guilty pleasure the day before when shopping. She could just picture herself in it, and in Darcy's eyes. It was a rich color that accented the glossy lighter colors of brown that played throughout the darker shades of her hair. The square neck was trimed with a soft satiny pink, as were the short slightly puffed sleeves, the waist, and the hem. It was very simple, but oh so elegant, and Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to try it on. So try it on she did.
Elaina had been right, she thought as she surveyed herself in the full length mirror. It was wonderful.
A peircing shiek ripped through the quiet of the settling house. It was a child's scream, a scream that was punctuated by heart rending sobs. Elizabeth flew from her room, following the sound of the screams, running into Elaina and Rene on the way downstairs. They were the first to reach the scene. At the foot of the master staircase leading from the entry way of the house, laid a small screaming mass of rumpled clothing, tears, and blood. All three girls rushed down to little Hinton crying his name. Just as they reached the boy, Mr. Jones and Mr. Darcy came flying from opposite corners of the house toward the small boy who could not be quieted and the trio of harried women. Mr. Jones swept them all aside and examined the boy who never missed a beat in his screams. By this time, the entire household had been wakened and a circle of servants crowded round the distressed group. The bleeding was coming from an arm that hung limply to the laying boy's side, forced into a peculiar and impossible position.
"Someone bring me a hard flat surface. A board, a serving tray, anything!" comanded Mr. Jones in a calm yet terrified voice. Several of the servants dashed off to find something that would fit the older man's request. "Hinton my boy," said the father calmly, "you must calm down. I know it hurts, I know my poor boy, but you will be alright. Please Hinton, can you tell me what happened? I have to know so that I can tell the doctor when he arrives, and he can fix you." At that, one of the servants ran into the room, announcing loudly that one of the younger male servants left on horse as soon as he saw what had happened, and was on his way to the nearest doctor.
Hinton calmed down with some effort, and between gasps for breath and small, heart wrenching sobs, squeaked out sparingly few words to the small group huddled over his reclining form. "I thought... fun. Didn't mean to. Staircase... a good shiny rail. But I went too fast."
A servant appeared with a small flat silver tray. Mr. Jones slid the flat surface under the boy's arm and kept a stoney face as his son yelled in pain. "Fitwilliam," said Mr. Jones, "I need you to lift the tray at the exact same time I lift Hinton. His arm is obviously broke, through the skin i think. We can not risk overly moving his arm and causing more damage. We need some place downstairs to put him." The two men coordinated their movements to provide as little pain as possible to the boy and the three girls flew off to gather warm water, clean linens, and good stout alcohol to dull the pain. Though Elizabeth was wary about giving spirits to one so young, she knew of nothing else to alleviate the boy's obvious pain.
While she hurried to find the room the men had lodged the boy in, she couldn't help but consider Mr. Jones' words. Through the skin. She shivered. She hoped it wasn't so.
No one got to bed till late that night. The doctor had came and went and still no one could sleep. Mr. Jones sat watch in the most comfortable chair Mr. Darcy could produce, never closing a protective eye on the pale yet sleeping countenance of his injured son. Rene lay awake in dred, Elaina in contemplative silence.
Elizabeth was simply not tired. She paced her room back and forth, knowing she would never succumb to slumber's allure. And, she was sure, neither would Darcy. She went in search of him.
It did not take her long to locate him. He too was pacing the lushly carpeted floor of his study. She spied him through a crack in the door, and silently pushed the crack wider, watching her affianced. His hair was a tumbled mess and his cravat was completly undone, as was his vest, which hung open quite haphazzardly. A corner of his shirt had come untucked and he had never thought to right it. His eyes were dark and troubled... and tired.
He stopped his pacing and faced the silent figure in his doorway. At the mere sight of her, his weariness seemed to melt away. His eyes lightened and his shoulders straightened. He was content to simply stare at her. And it was quite suprising when she flew across the few feet that separated them and flung herself into his arms. "He will be okay, won't he?" she mumbled into Darcy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I could not stay when the doctor arrived. I did not wish to see... to see..."
"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I understand. I would not wish you to witness such a thing. The poor lad." Reluctantly yet purposefully, Darcy pushed Elizabeth from the circle of his arms and led her to a coach by the fireplace. A roaring fire cast shadows on their faces. "He is a hearty boy. And though the bone coming through the skin did much damage..." Darcy stopped here, noticing the shudder that passed over Elizabeth's features as he had said these last words. But she dogged him on.
"Please, tell me what happened. What the doctor said. I wish to know everything."
"Of course. Though the bone coming through the skin caused much damage, no muscles, miracuously, were torn. The doctor replaced the bone and sewed up the wound. Hinton sleeps, and we will know by morning if fever has set in. The doctor is staying here tonight, in case any emergency care is needed. It is a shame he lives so far. But he has agreed to stay on until we need him as he has an apprentice keeping watch over his clinic in the villiage." He reached over and smoothed an escaped curl back behind Elizabeth's ear. "The boy will live. His arm will pain him much, and it may never be the same again, but he will not be handicapped by it. The doctor says so, and I beleive it to be true. And so must you... why are you not asleep Elizabeth, it is late."
"Why are you not asleep good sir?"
"Of course. But could you not attempt to rest?" asked Darcy almost pleadingly.
"Could you not attempt sir?" admonished Elizabeth half teasingly, half seriously. "I will strike a bargain with you, since you are so fond of them. If you retire for the evening, at least attempting to lay in bed and close your eyes, then so shall I. Deal?"
Darcy appeared to seriously weigh her proposal. "Deal. I must first finish up some things in here."
"Then how do I know you will honor your word Mr. Darcy?"
"If you do not trust me my lady, then you may stay upon that coach until I am threw with my buisiness. Does that suit you?"
Elizabeth weighed this proposal as seriously as Darcy had appeared to weigh her own. "Yes, yes it does suit me. Conclude you buisiness then, good sir." Something strangely akin to disapointment flitted strangely across Darcy's eyes before the left the coach for what awaited him at his desk.
Elizabeth pondered the dissapointment she had seen in his eyes upon her pronouncement to stay. Did he not want her here? The question was so prominant in her mind that she didn't even get to watch him and teasingly distract him as she had planned on doing. And before she knew it, he rose from his desk and walked to the door, stopping only in its door frame to call her name. Distractedly, she stood and walked to his side. Halfway to her room, she had solved the riddle... she hoped.
"William, I do trust you," she spoke, halting their steps and staring up into his somber face. I only wished to stay to be near you longer, to watch you. I did not stay because I do not trust you. Surely you realize this."
"Surely I don't dear lady. You have not trusted me before, and you did not like me very well before I absconded with you. It pains me to say that I have reason to doubt."
"And it pains me to hear you say such things." Darcy could see that she truley was hurt. But, he remarked mentally as he watched her frown turn into a brilliant beaming smile, she was quite resiliant. "But know that from now on it is so! I do trust you! And do not give me a reason not too! Or I'll take you to your very own pirate ship and have you walk the plank!"
Darcy laughed a rich deep melodious laugh, and pulled Elizabeth into his side as he continued their walk to her room. Elizabeth joined her lilting laugh to his, matching her steps to his stride by stride. They reached her door in perfect harmony.
"Good night Mr. Darcy," said she softly.
"What happened to William?" asked he even softer.
She gave him a bewitching smile and stepped away from him, turning the door knob and stepping part way into the room.
"Wait! Elizabeth, where did you get that gown?"
Elizabeth had forgotten that she wore the brown silk, that she had rushed from the room at Hinton's scream with the garment still on her person. She blushed, and instead of staring at her toes, chose to challange him with her eyes. Let him tease her for her purchase! Let him see the dress! Hadn't she bought it with him in mind?
"It is, Elizabeth, a dress not quite befitting the station of governess. It is much more fine and elegant than that plain, yet fitting cream gown you wore today. Tell me, why would a governess purchase such a luxuary, and why would she put it on late in the evening?" Darcy challanged her right back. He knew, or hoped he knew, exactly why she had bought the dress. He simply wanted to hear her say it.
"It is not befitting the station of a governess, but William," she emphasized the use of his familiar name, "it is befitting the station of your wife. I am not sorry I bought it sir. It is beautiful, and I love it. And... and I had thought you might approve as well." Elizabeth's assurance wavered slightly at the end.
"I very much approve Elizabeth. Very much indeed. You are breathtaking in it."
Elizabeth smiled satisfactorly at him, while Darcy's gaze remained somewhat far off, heavy.
"I'm afraid it is rather wrinkled after..." a yawn broke through her speech. "after tonight's ordeal." She sheilded another yawn with the back of her hand.
Bending down and brushing a gentle kiss across first her forehead, then her fluttering eyelids, then at last her lips, he lowly mumured goodnight, hovering inches from her face, then turned and left.
The cold air rushed at Elizabeth's face as she realized her William no longer stood so close, that his kisses were gone. She opened her eyes abruptly and frowned, stifling yet another yawn. She closed the door pondering Darcy's abrupt disapearance, and gently lingering her fingers on the tingling spot his lips had left on hers.