Part 3 – The Second Day
Elizabeth's fear of a sleepless night was proven correct, and it was Mr. Darcy's fault. It was bad enough to be unwillingly placed the unsuitable position of sleeping on a bare floor in her shift and forced to share a fire with a man whose proposal she had refuted—with good reason, she reminded herself—but that man kept waking her each time he got up during the night to manage the fire. When he returned to her side, he would lay with her back-to-back, but often would turn to embrace her in his sleep. She believed him unaware of what he was doing, but it was enough to drive one distracted!
To be fair, the fire needed to be tended, and Mr. Darcy moved as quietly as could be and he often caught himself when he did cuddle her and turned to face the other way. He also had retrieved the other blanket, adding slightly to their warmth.
As a result, Elizabeth was exhausted, cold, distraught, and hungry. She had not eaten since a late breakfast at Hunsford the day before. To her shame, her stomach made very unladylike rumbles. All this combined to give her a blinding headache.
When Elizabeth awoke a final time, she could not tell whether it was morning, but she could not bear to be on the hard, rough wooden floor a moment longer. Fortunately, Mr. Darcy must have come to the same conclusion.
"Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth," he said in a rough voice, "I must see to things outside. I will not be long." He rose from the floor, pulled on his boots, retrieved his overcoat, and rehung his blanket in the corner. He then walked stiffly to the door, pulling his on overcoat. Elizabeth could not help but notice that the man was fatigued. Perhaps Mr. Darcy is human, after all, she thought.
Once Darcy left the cottage, Elizabeth threw off her own blanket and made a quick toilette. She despaired of a vessel of water to wash her face as she donned her dress and pelisse, now toasty dry from the fire. She was able to do up the buttons, for it was a traveling dress, rather than a gown. She attempted to do something with her hair when Darcy returned. The blast of cold air from the open door made her close her eyes, so she did not see his burden until he was almost to the fire.
"There was not much wood left by the cottage," he said as he placed a few sticks on the greatly diminished woodpile by the hearth. His voice had a slight apologetic tone that left Elizabeth unmoved. She was exhausted, suffering from hunger and headache, and her mood was not charitable.
"I am sure you did the best you could," she observed. She retrieved the chamber pot and made for the door.
"Where are you going with that?"
Elizabeth turned to her companion, taken aback at his abrupt question. "Undoubtedly you have seen one of these before." She indicated her burden. "If you would excuse me—"
"I will take it."
Elizabeth was stunned. "You certainly will not!"
"If you believe I will allow you out in the snow without protest, madam, you are sadly mistaken." Darcy was resolute as he held out his hands. He shook his head. "I will not be moved. Hand it over."
She glared at him, but his stone-face did not change. Defeated, she practically shoved the chamber pot into his hands. He nodded and left the cabin.
Elizabeth fell into the lone chair, furious. Knowing that at that moment, he was—she could not bear to think of it! She put her face in her hands, thinking she would die of humiliation.
She lifted her head at the sound of the door opining. Mr. Darcy resolutely walked across the floor, returning the empty chamber pot to its place behind the blanket wall. Elizabeth noticed his look was attentive as he took off his overcoat and hat and returned to the fire. Neither spoke for a while.
Darcy was the one to break the uncomfortable silence. "Did you sleep well?"
Elizabeth could not trust herself to say more than a word. "Tolerably."
He offered her a mug of hot water. "All the breakfast available, I fear." Elizabeth did not respond, her pounding head filled with thoughts of the surplus of beefsteak at her mother's table.
Darcy retrieved and refilled the mug. Elizabeth declined a second drink, so he sipped thoughtfully. "The snow is quite deep, and the wind is undiminished. I would not suggest attempting to walk out this morning. Perhaps if the wind dies in the afternoon…" He let his voice trail off. There was nothing to say to that, so Elizabeth said nothing. Her irritation with her present situation grew.
A few minutes later, Darcy said, "That is a pretty dress."
Elizabeth looked up at his non sequitur. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your dress," he waved his hand at it, "it is…becoming."
Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing. Certainly Mr. Darcy was not truly complimenting her dress! It was a traveling frock she had worn many a time. It was nothing any lady of the ton would ever wear. It was the second time he had engaged in empty flattery. What could be his motive in acting so strangely? "I thank you, sir," she managed.
"I was thinking of my sister. She would like it, I think."
Now she knew he was lying! "Mr. Darcy, I know not to what you are referring. I imagine your sister's style of clothing is far above those of a simple country miss!"
"I do not contradict you. Georgiana does patronize the best dressmakers in London. The difference is slight, however. Only in the…umm…style, I believe. I was speaking of the color and the fabric. It is very fine."
Elizabeth looked down at her clothing. "For my uncle, I thank you." She caught his quizzical expression. "The fabric is from my uncle's warehouses."
"Ah, the one in trade." Mr. Darcy fidgeted uncomfortably.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. "My uncle Gardiner is an importer of fine fabrics and spices. He used to handle French wines and American tobacco, but with the troubles oversees—"
"I see," Darcy said shorty. He seemed to contemplate something. "Perhaps my sister and I should visit Mr. Gardiner's warehouse."
"Ha!" Elizabeth laughed harshly. "If you are attempting to appear as an amiable gentleman for my sake, please save yourself the trouble! You do it ill, and I find it offensive."
Mr. Darcy frowned. "Miss Bennet, I fail to see how I offend."
"And I fail to see your purpose in empty promises."
"I have taken my sister shopping many times."
"I say nothing against your sister, but I find it hard to believe she even knows where Cheapside is, much less ever been there!" Elizabeth was incensed. "I know well your opinion of my family, particularly of my mother's roots in trade! You made it quite clear in your letter. I would prefer honest conversation from you rather than this obsequiousness."
"Miss Bennet, I do not believe you recall my letter accurately. You must acknowledge that the situation of your mother's family is regrettable, but—"
"My Uncle Gardiner is one of the finest men I know!" Elizabeth cried, despite her raging headache. "He is honest, hard-working, and generous! He is also very learned, well-read, and polite! He may not be a gentleman, but there are some gentlemen of my acquaintance who could learn from his example! He would never dismiss people below him as dirt on his boots!"
Mr. Darcy, wide-eyed and pale, said nothing, and Elizabeth continued. "You may treat the world as you will, sir, and I would say nothing. I am not harmed. But when you harm those dear to me—"
"You speak of your sister." Darcy's voice was cold and controlled.
"Your wit does you proud, sir!" Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "Yes, my dear Jane, condemned to a life of ridicule and regret due to your unwarranted interference, just because my family was not fine enough for your friend!"
"But fine enough for me."
Elizabeth started at his calm response.
Darcy's face was tight and expressionless, his arms crossed. "You forget, madam, that I set aside those same objections to your family when I made those offers which were four nights ago so disgusting to you. And in my letter, I stated I would have advised Mr. Bingley differently had I had any idea of your sister's attachment to him. She gave no evidence of it to me, so when my judgment was solicited, I gave my honest opinion. I could do no less for my friend."
"Yes, your honest opinion of my ridiculous family!"
"Miss Bennet, it is impossible that a lady of your intelligence can be unaware of the total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by your family, save for yourself and your elder sister. It is a decided fact. However, it is not a crime to suffer a ridiculous family, as you so put it, if one can be assured of all the other advantages that marriage should bring."
"Like wealth and connections!" Elizabeth snapped.
"Like mutual affection!" Darcy shouted. He then turned away, back to the fire, as his impassioned words rang through the cabin. "I beg your pardon for raising my voice."
Elizabeth sat blinking at the forceful display of passion.
He took a long breath. "People of my station are expected to marry on the basis of wealth and connections." He practically spat out the words. "I bear witness to the results of that evil every day amongst my friends and acquaintances, even in my own family. Men and women hopelessly trapped in arrangements that offer little more than existence, their children shunted aside as mere ornaments or used as chess pieces in the game of influence." He wagged one finger in the air. "Ah, but they have money and position. Strange how it fails to keep one warm in the night." He leaned on the mantle. "Many lose respectability as they seek the affection they crave in dissolute ways." He snorted. "The ton may forgive their indiscretions, particularly those of the gentlemen, but I am not such a hypocrite.
"It is wickedness and sorrow complete, in every particular horrible. I think it better my friend remain unmarried than to be in circumstances that should injure all proper feelings."
Darcy's heart-felt declaration stunned Elizabeth utterly silent. He had opened the door to his soul for her inspection, and what she found was unexpected. She could not grasp it at present. As was her wont, she needed time to digest it properly.
Darcy spoke on, this time in regret. "Do not think for a moment that I do not know what my advice to Bingley has cost me. I have forever lost my one chance at happiness." He put a hand to his forehead. "Or, perhaps I deceive myself. I never was truly worthy of you, was I, Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth, her tears redoubled, could only look on mutely.
"I thought after yesterday we could yet be friends…but that was only an illusion, I see." Darcy then moved over to the door and began to put on his overcoat.
Elizabeth shook off her stupor. "Mr. Darcy, where are you going?"
He refused to face her as he tugged on his gloves. "I go to acquire more firewood. We have insufficient for the night, should we be forced to remain." He put on his hat and reached for the door latch.
"You must not go outside! You said it was dangerous!"
He stopped. "I am sure it is nothing to you." With that he quickly left the cabin.
Elizabeth spent the next hour in wretched recrimination and dreadful suspense. She could not believe that once again she had misjudged Mr. Darcy and, due to her lack of wit, lost her temper. And now, because of her bad behavior, Mr. Darcy was risking his life out in the cold and snow.
Had she learned nothing from his letter? She dug it out of her reticule and read the dreadful thing for what seemed the twentieth time. There, in his precise, close penmanship was his explanation of his actions in regards to Jane and Mr. Bingley as well as his horrifying description of Mr. Wickham's offenses against him. As her eyes scanned the familiar phrases, ones she had thought she had committed to memory, she was ashamed of herself once again. How blind she had been! How partial, prejudiced, absurd, even despicable!
It was true that Mr. Darcy had labored to separate Mr. Bingley from Jane. The conclusion he drew from observing Jane was very flawed. Jane was deeply attached to Mr. Bingley, she knew. She had revealed it to her.
However, Elizabeth had to give credit to Charlotte's warning. Jane did keep her feelings and opinions to herself to an extraordinary degree. Elizabeth had always admired her for it, but might her sister have gone too far? How was a man to act if he was unsure of his lady's feelings? Should he and declare himself, exposing himself to the scorn of the world if he was wrong?
As Mr. Darcy did.
With a shock, she saw that Mr. Bingley, for all his virtues, lacked Mr. Darcy's courage. Perhaps Mr. Darcy was over-confidant, but he still acted. Mr. Bingley was very different in his uncertainty. He sought the advice of his relations and friends and did not trust his own observations. Elizabeth could not speak as to the motivations of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. As for Mr. Darcy, he gave his honest opinion. Would Elizabeth do less for Jane if she sought her advice?
Mr. Darcy was wrong in his advice to Mr. Bingley, but he was not spiteful. No, the only spiteful person in the matter was herself. The poor man had declared his ardent love for her less than a week ago. She spurned it then, and she spurned his attempts at cordial friendship today. No matter how awful a proposal he had delivered, his feelings were true and worthy of gentle handling. But no, that was not Elizabeth Bennet's way! Why be kind when one could be cruel? Thoughtful instead of thoughtless? Generous instead of ungrateful? The man saved her life, and she might as well have spit in his face! Hateful, hateful girl!
How could she make amends? How did one go about apologizing to a gentleman so high, so justifiably proud? Proud not just of his position in life, but of his talents and generosity. How was such a man to be worked on? Would he believe a word she said?
On and on Elizabeth thought and schemed, and rejected and despaired, until she noted a long time had passed since Mr. Darcy's departure. A new fear arose in her. What if he was not to return? What if, disgusted by her unladylike behavior and unable to remain in her presence, he had attempted to walk out to the coaching station? The fire was low, the wood almost gone. Would he return with help in time?
Or far worse, what if he met with misfortune? What if, at that moment, he lay injured in the freezing snow, a victim of a falling limb or thin ice? What if Mr. Darcy was dying?
She dashed to the window that looked out the back of the cottage. She fumbled with the latches before the crude shutter could be swung up. Sticking her head out of the open window, she saw naught but a train of footsteps leading to a small, crude structure about ten yards away. She immediately saw the significance of it.
This morning, when Mr. Darcy left through the door, he trudged through knee-deep snowdrifts to the privy, for the singular purpose of giving me privacy! This man continuously sufferers discomfort for my sake! Not only do I fail to recognize his service, in return I humiliate and mock him! How despicably have I acted!
She closed and latched the shutter and went to the front window. This one was jammed. No matter how Elizabeth tried, she could not work the latch. She reached for the door when a wild thought took her.
Stupid girl! What good is it to look for Mr. Darcy from a window? He may need my aid! I must find him!
Quickly she donned her coat and bonnet. Then, steeling her courage, she opened the door. The cold wind struck her face, forcing Elizabeth to duck. It was then she noticed a substantial pile of tree limbs near the cabin wall, the snow trampled with numerous footsteps. Instantly, her thoughts turned to Mr. Darcy—surely this was the result of his labors. She looked up towards the woods.
The grey sky was cloudy, and the fallen snow danced in the brisk wind. A trail of footsteps led into the wood. Elizabeth was determined to follow the trail and took a few steps when a tall figure emerged from the gloom. In moments it became clear it was a man in a top hat, carrying a burden in his arms. Elizabeth's sprits soared.
"Mr. Darcy!" she cried.
The figure stumbled, and Elizabeth's fears returned. She began to make her way through the drifts to his side as the man struggled to his feet.
"M-M-Miss Bennet!" The weakness in his muffled voice would forever be planted in her memory. "Go b-b-back! This is no p-p-place for you!"
Heedless, she trudged as quickly as she could to the staggering gentleman. "Let me help you!"
"I-I-I am w-w-well. Go back, I b-b-beg you."
Darcy had pulled up his cravat and affixed it to cover his nose and mouth, and it was covered in snow and ice. Exhaustion was clearly written in his eyes. The bundle of wood had to be heavy, and his steps were uncertain. He was falling, and but for Elizabeth driving her shoulder under his, he would have fallen in the snow. Darcy was done in.
With strength she did not know she possessed, Elizabeth half-carried Darcy to the cabin. She reached out, pushed the door open, and the pair stumbled in. Elizabeth retained her footing, but Darcy did not and fell face first on the floor, the wood he carried flying everywhere. Elizabeth shut the door and knelt at his side.
"C-c-cold…s-s-so cold…" Darcy mumbled. The man rolled onto his side, drew his knees to his chest, and shivered uncontrollably. His overcoat and boots were soaked. Elizabeth removed his frozen cravat and, to her horror, saw that his lips were blue. Terms like frostbite and exposure filled her mind.
"Mr. Darcy, I am so sorry. This is my fault. Please let me help you. We must get you warm." Keeping her voice as calm as she could, she coaxed Mr. Darcy to crawl closer to the fire. Once there, she began to remove his overcoat.
"E-E-Elizabeth, you s-s-should not…" Darcy protested, but Elizabeth was having none of it. She ignored his pleas, and in quick order, divested him of not only his outer coat but his inner one as well. She wrapped him in one of the blankets, and turned her attention to his boots. That task was harder to perform, and not until she sat down on the floor, seized his left boot in both hands, and braced her left foot against his right was she able to pull the boot off. She repeated the process with the right boot, and then removed his drenched silk stockings.
"Mr. Darcy, you must lie still—I insist!" She dashed to the hanging cloth wall, gave it a yank, and it came away from the nails with a small ripping sound. She returned to Darcy and wrapped it around his legs. She then scooped a mug full of hot water from the cooking pot. She had to hold the mug for him to drink, for his hands shook too hard to hold it without spilling its contents.
Elizabeth got to her feet, thinking of what else to do. She removed her own coat, folded it, and placed it under Darcy's head as a pillow. She then gathered the scattered firewood, fed some of it to the fire, and deposited the balance in the woodpile next to the hearth.
After hanging her bonnet and his hat by the door, she returned to Darcy's side. She recoiled when she touched his face, for it was ice-cold. The blankets were not enough, and the fire would take too long to warm the space. Mr. Darcy needed aid now. There was only one thing to do.
Taking a moment to hang his stockings and coats on the back of the chair, she removed Darcy's blankets.
"M-M-Miss Bennet?" Darcy tried to lift his head.
"Shush, sir. Be still, please." Following the example he set the day before, Elizabeth lay down behind Darcy, wrapping her warm body around his chilled one, pulling both blankets over their bodies. Elizabeth heard his teeth chattering. "Do not speak, sir. Rest. All will be well. I will care for you."
He moaned, "Elizabeth," and fell asleep.
No longer in the immediacy of the crisis, Elizabeth took stock of their situation. They had wood aplenty and water from melted snow. But they still had no food, no promise of deliverance from without, and Elizabeth had no idea whether she could save Mr. Darcy's life—a life she felt she endangered by her intemperate words and thoughtless behavior.
Elizabeth buried her face in Darcy's shoulder and cried as she prayed for help.