Chapter Eight

Any woman who has been in a close tete a tete with a gentleman who set their heart aflame, a tete a tete that included all intimacy that could be desired, and all feeling, but which nevertheless had no clear meaning, no resolution — any lady amongst my readers can have no doubt as to the sequel of this conversation.

I could not sleep.

I both feared and longed to meet Mr. Darcy the next day, and I confess that though I refused to admit to myself the feeling and desire which made me to act in such a silly manner, I spent an unusual amount of time at my toilette that morning making myself look as fetching as I could with the slender resources available to me — that is to say, an unusual amount of time compared to how much I usually had spent since I had entered service at Pemberley.

In those old days, when I yet was one of the Miss Bennets of Longbourn, I had been as vain about my looks as the average of pretty girls in England. Then it was no strange thing if I took an hour's time to arrange the artlessly falling curls about my cheeks in just the right manner, and to softly smooth the natural appearing pink rouge upon my cheeks so that I had a dash of blushing color before an important ball. But every girl in the kingdom can spend so much time; that is nothing to remark upon.

But as a governess, even when I cared as I did now, to put such care on my appearance would be absurd, and quite contrary to the nature of the position.

I went downstairs to the kitchen where I went to retrieve my breakfast each day before I began my lessons with Cathy. Mrs. Poole sat there in a rocking chair in the kitchen likewise waiting for her meal.

It was strange to see her there.

I had expected her to be dismissed forthwith, and be gone from the house by the time morning came. But here she sat, hard featured, middle aged, pint of porter in hand.

Soon as I'd entered, one of the maids who I on occasion talked with exclaimed to me, "Miss Bennet, did you hear, it was ever so exciting! The master nearly was burnt to his death during the night in his bed."

I looked at Grace Poole, to assess her response to hearing this story, but she imperturbably sat, knitting, and occasionally putting aside her piece work to gulp a swallow back from the heavy mug she drank from.

"No, I had not heard," I replied, remembering Mr. Darcy had enjoined me to say nothing of the matter. "Though it seemed as though there were strange sounds last night as I slept. I could swear I heard an odd laughing."

Leah, the maid, shivered. "Terrifying thought. Maybe it was the ghost of Mrs. Darcy — they say she still haunts the galleries, ever since she died birthing Miss Catherine."

"I have never found a ghost to actually be audible, or to in actual cold fact to do anything," I replied to her. "I rather suspect that more mundane foulness was afoot."

"Well, it didn't start the fire. Mr. Darcy, he fell asleep while reading — much like the master is it not? — and spilled the candle over the bed."

"That is not particularly like the master," I replied with a smile. "But the first part is like him beyond doubt." I looked at Mrs. Poole. "I still wonder about that laugh I heard."

"Likely it was a ghost you heard, Miss Bennet," Mrs. Poole replied. "But what did you do when you heard this sound — did you see anything, anyone. Go out into the gallery?"

I realized that she was questioning me upon the happenings of the night, and I determined that it would be best by far if she did not know that I knew what she had done. It was amazing though to see that there was not the slightest guilt upon her face, or reaction to this reference to her odd laughing.

What a strange, compelling creature she was!

I replied sharply, "On the contrary. I immediately bolted and locked my door, for fear of robbers."

She placidly nodded and taking another swallow of her beer replied, "This was wise of you. One can never be too careful in these dark times. Robbers, and bandits and vagrants everywhere. Were I you, I'd make a future practice of always bolting the door at night."

I almost growled at her. "I shall certainly do that from tonight, though I had not till now, feeling safe within the compass of these walls."

The perceptive reader will note that I now had ample information to begin to pursue the mystery of the laugh, and further ample motivation to do so.

However, while I was curious about the matter of Grace Poole, Mr. Darcy's injunction to say nothing held me at bay, and in any case a different issue distracted me that day.

I remained in a flutter of nerves through the whole first half of the day waiting to see Mr. Darcy, and wondering what I would say to him — wondering with far more curiosity what he would say to me, a woman who he claimed to owe a great debt and even his very life to.

It was not wholly inaccurate for him to claim that he owed me a great debt, though the strangeness of the night before made it impossible for me to feel as though any obligation, or any great goodness on my part had reality and substance.

I needed Mr. Darcy to come before me again, and to say something — something in the bright light of day, for me to settle myself. Though I would have accepted a drawing room well-lit by a profusion of candles if he preferred to wait to call me before him until the evening.

Surely he would not wait a day, as he on occasion did before speaking to me. That would be entirely unfair.

When I went to the nursery in the morning after my breakfast to collect Cathy for the beginning of our lessons, I found that the start of my work was to be postponed as Mr. Darcy had taken Cathy and Georgiana out to Lambton for the morning in the carriage immediately following breakfast.

I had an odd feeling of hurt, one harder than usual to dismiss, at having been left out of the party.

You are in service. His governess. His employee. His dependent. Nothing more! Do not forget. Never, never ever forget.

My mood was mixed between a strange euphoria, at the memory of the way he'd held my hand, gripping it against his chest, so that I'd nearly been able to feel Mr. Darcy's heartbeat, and an odd fear.

Hours passed. I was unsettled. I left the house, and climbed up the trail behind to the height of the wooded eminence which provided the backdrop for the manor, so that I might be able to observe and watch for when they would come back, and have soonest possible intelligence of Mr. Darcy's return.

I paced back and forth.

There was a book I had brought with me, an excellent novel that I was near the middle of, at the point of greatest excitement. But it was unable to keep my attention when I tried to sit down, to force myself to read it.

Nothing could.

I pulled from my pocket some letters, one from Jane and another from Charlotte, intending to reread them. But my eyes crossed and could not focus on the text. I sat on a hard stump to try to read, but in my head I smelt the smoke, I heard the terrifying crackling of the fire, and I saw Mr. Darcy, writhing side to side as he moaned in his dream, his robe open so I could see the hair upon his chest.

It was already well past noon when the carriage entered the gate, and I descended down to meet it by the entrance to the house. I composed in my mind with a smile a remark to make to Darcy, to teasingly complain about how he had stolen my student for the best part of the day. I'd say that I hoped he did not anticipate that she would be able to apply herself after such excitement as a trip to the market town.

Alas, wasted effort.

I reached the driveway at about the same moment the carriage pulled to a stop, and I found Georgiana and Cathy exiting the carriage, helped by a footman in the fine decorated silk livery of the Darcy house. Cathy's eyes were red from crying, and soon as she saw me, with a little wail she ran to me and hugged me around the waist.

Mr. Darcy… Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen.

Georgiana explained frowningly once we had come in from the cold and gathered together in the drawing room. We were gathered like we used to before Mr. Darcy had come and proclaimed that our habits would be more formal. He had told them of a sudden that he would go off to Town for a fortnight, as he had received letters from friends.

"So sudden," I said, a lead weight in my stomach. A self-obsessed bit in my mind, which liked to imagine every event revolved around myself, wondered if Mr. Darcy too had feared meeting me after the emotion of the previous night, and that rather than directly disappointing any hopes he imagined I may have formed about him, he left forthwith to save himself that danger.

Yet such behavior did not fit with my sense of his character. Little did.

"Yes," Georgiana said, and drew her slippered feet up to the couch, and wrapped her arms around her legs. "It was odd — Fitzwilliam's manner was so odd. As though he had not fully decided upon this course of action until we were already in Lambton."

Georgiana sat right next to me, while Cathy sat in my lap with her arms tightly wrapped around me. She cried from time to time, and I had the cook retrieve several fine lemon tarts that had been reserved from breakfast for her. Lemon was her favorite flavor, but she only ate half of one, and that only with substantial coaxing.

"He offered for me to go to Town with him," Georgiana added, "but while I would like to see the theaters, and the lectures — I would. I'll confess this to you, Lizzy — I would like to see a few dresses in the stores in Bond Street. But I would only like that if you were there with me."

"I would enjoy shopping with you, Georgie," I replied with a smile that did not reach my eyes.

"But Fitzwilliam insisted Cathy could not come, and thus you could not come, that your place was here at Pemberley, and so…"

"And so you remained here, alone and desolate in Derbyshire—"

"Not alone and desolate, you are here! And Cathy!"

When Georgiana said that, I hugged the young girl tighter. "And so we are. But you must look to your own care, and your own future, and—"

"I love Pemberley too much to leave it. I could never leave my dear home when those I love are here still. Oh I sometimes wish… when I see you and Brother talking so quickly and laughing… I imagine that you might… that… I wish it was always like it has been the past few months. That matters would never change from how we have enjoyed them of late."

"I wish that too."

"And Fitzwilliam has been happy again here at Pemberley. I only want him to be happy. You know that, Lizzy."

"I know, Georgie." I put Cathy on the ground and we both hugged Georgiana, the three of us together, facing not an opposed world, but one that was empty without Fitzwilliam Darcy near us.

"This is the first time he stayed here at all. Before this visit he never spent a fortnight together at Pemberley, not since Cousin Anne died," Georgiana said in her rather worried voice. "He shall come back, and soon. He promised me he would. This time at least — he is going out to visit some friends in Town, and then he shall come back. And it will all be like it was…"

I nodded seriously, schooling my face to not show what was in my heart, not allowing her to see how much I missed her brother.

Perhaps — no! I shall use no mealy mouthed perhaps: I dare to claim this without reservation. I missed Mr. Darcy even more than her.