A cool breeze fluttered Elizabeth's tendrils and cooled her head.
How delightful.
She sighed, eyes still closed, aware of a low-grade pulsing somewhere behind her left eye, as the carriage jostled on a road. Finally, she looked out at the world. Harsh sunlight blazed into her eyes and she nearly yelped as a bright slab of pain sliced through her brain.
Through blurry vision, she glimpsed green fields passing by. Her head thudded in time to carriage jostles. Her dry throat tasted dust. "Do close the curtains."
Something poked her side repeatedly. A familiar voice rose. She knew that man's voice…a Captain's? No, the Colonels. Darcy's cousin's. Could she never get away from odious menfolk?
Something gently shook her. "Darcy, you best wake now. We are nearly to Kent. Aunt Catherine is going to take one look at you and have your head on a spike in your condition. Do at least straighten your cravat."
She opened her eyes and saw the man across the carriage frown as he leaned toward her to tie her cravat, or try to. Dear lord, he looked no better than she felt. His normally pleasant face was puffy and pale, and dark circles raccooned his eyes.
The Colonel frowned more. "I'm not good with these ties–not like my man, or yours for that matter." He tried again. "Blast, you'll have to ask Keegan to do it. I am hopeless with a tie." She could smell whiskey coming off him faintly.
"You look terrible," she said, her voice was a rasp. "And you smell worse."
"You are not exactly a debutante's dream either today, Darcy." But a smile curled his mouth as he talked. "For God's sake, do quash down your hair!" He attempted to press down one side of Darcy's thick hair.
She leaned back again, exhausted. How had she come to such a state? She tried to recall. The Colonel had taken her to a public house again last night for supper, as usual. And they had drunk too much. As usual. She remembered several pints of lager, then whiskey. The rest was a blur of half-formed images of laughing men's faces, cigar smoke, some music, and vulgar talk that still made her blush.
Men, she found, were extremely interesting creatures when they were not in company of women. Even the stodgiest and most ancient, stone-faced old man morphed into a puffed up sot who bragged about himself when he was given a drink, a cigar, and closed off in a dark male club. A few were truly interesting or witty, the rest seemed only to wish to tell–and retell–the same flattering anecdotes about themselves. She found she needed to stay slightly intoxicated simply to get through the evening. She wondered how much Darcy might be like that as well. She recalled his indifferent air, his cool looks toward her. He was likely to be as bad as any of them. Though she could not imagine him engaged in self-flattery or vulgar language. Alas, she would never know.
The carriage rounded a hill and a great white stone edifice came into view. Elizabeth nearly yelped. Her throat dried considerably and she tried to swallow it away. The monstrosity looked more like a medieval castle, with spires that reached into the air and yawning arches and high windows.
"Is that...Rosings?"
The Colonel eyed Darcy before rummaging in his leather bag. "Are you still in your cups, man? You have been here a hundred times. As much as I'd like to forget." He pulled small dark glass bottle out of his bag. "But at least you are the prodigal nephew. Aunt C. never finds fault with you. Unlike me."
"Are you taking drink again?"
No," he unscrewed the bottle. Sorry to disappoint you. It is only cologne." He dabbed it on his hands and rubbed it on his neck. "So we smell less like a public house floor, and more like the nephews Lady Catherine expects."
Elizabeth looked at the Colonel and allowed him to shake a drop onto her hands. She frowned. It was bracing and pungent, but it likely would drown out any less desirable fumes they might emanate.
The carriage crunched on the stones of the drive as liveried footmen scurried around it. The house was enormous. Elizabeth stared upward at it. It was twice the size of Netherfield.
What had she been thinking? This was a terrible idea, meeting Darcy's aunt as Darcy.
But then she had not been able to construct an adequate excuse not to attend the Easter holiday at Darcy's aunt's estate, particularly as it was a yearly tradition. Besides, how careful could an elderly woman be, she wondered? She likely would see Darcy and not question him, as no one else had.
But now, walking up great stone steps to Rosings, meeting the cool faces of the many, many servants-seriously, how many were there?- she felt sweat break out on her forehead. This was not her family. She did not know these people. They might well discern she was not Fitzwilliam Darcy and lock her away for the rest of her natural life.
She tried to swallow again, but her throat was again dry.
Lady Catherine sat on a green velvet loveseat beside a roaring fire. She did not stand as she and the Colonel entered the sitting room.
Elizabeth had wondered about this woman she had heard so much about, but now in the flesh, she was smaller and more birdlike and delicate than Elizabeth had expected, which surprised her.
She followed the Colonel in a sweeping bow before stepping forward and placing a kiss on the woman's pale cheek.
"Lady Catherine, how fine you look today," Cousin Fitzwilliam said cheerfully.
"Do not flatter me," her grey eyes flashed. "I know how I appear. Despite my gowns and feathers, I am an old woman. You are young, and yet you both look decidedly unwell. Might you explain what plagues young healthy men of leisure these days?"
The Colonel laughed awkwardly. "I suspect it is what has plagued them in past days."
Lady Catherine gave him a stern stare before her eyelids drooped. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, whenever I see Darcy, you are present, although I know your income is not a speck to his portion. Yet you are always staying at the same great houses and with same excellent families. Tell me, how is this so?"
He smiled gamely. "Lady Catherine speaks very honestly. I am fortunate my cousin is so generous."
"Yes, I suppose you are. May I suggest you not allow yourself to become so familiar to your cousin that you irritate him and put yourself at risk of being cut off?."
"No, of course not. I would rather cast myself outside to the hardships of the streets than irritate a hair on my cousin's head."
"Harumph," Lady Catherine said. "Darcy, do come forward and let me look at you."
Elizabeth lifted her chin and walked slowly to the frowning woman, her heart beating fast as she did. Lady Catherine made her more nervous than when her mother made her promenade in front of she and Lady Lucas before a neighborhood dance. The corners of Lady Catherine's mouth turned down further. She almost felt the woman could see through her. "You look rather thin. Are you eating or is that some new fashion?" Elizabeth bowed deeply.
"Of course, Ma'am, I have been eating, Lady Catherine. But the morsels in the last posting inn left much to be desired."
She looked skeptical. "Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
He stepped forward. "Yes, Aunt?"
"Do be sure that Darcy partakes in proper nutrition. My nephew cannot starve. If you are going to be his constant companion, you can make yourself useful."
"Of course, Lady Catherine." Richard bowed and gave Elizabeth a knowing side eye.
Lady Catherine folded her jeweled hands in front of her. "Darcy, you must be wondering where your cousin Anne is today."
Elizabeth startled at this. In truth, she had forgotten Darcy's female cousin entirely. Lady Catherine peered at Darcy, her eyes narrowing.
"Yes, of course, Aunt."
"Dear Anne is not feeling well this morning and is resting. But she will be up and about in time for supper, we hope. She usually gains strength in the evening," Lady Catherine smiled for the first time, her lips parting and showing her rather good teeth. For a moment, it made her appear younger by decades. But the moment passed and her face settled again into its lines and scowl.
"I will be pleased to see her looking well."
Lady Catherine nodded curtly, flicking her wrist to wave them away. "Now, I shall unavail myself until dinner and allow you enough time to prepare yourselves thoroughly for present company." As she said the last line, she looked hard at them both.
Elizabeth found Darcy's bed chamber to be more than accommodating. It was a huge room, with great, bright windows that overlooked a splendid burgeoning flower and woodland garden behind Rosings, so that outside her window, doves swooped from tree to tree, cooing. A gentle breeze made the tree branches wave and brush her windowpane. A fire had been set in the fireplace, crackling pleasantly, warming the room.
She sighed contentedly once the servants left her and her bags in the room and opened the window. She was used to cramped quarters spilling over with sisters when she traveled. No cramped bed chambers or chattering roommates here. She knew Cousin Richard was in a similar room across the hall.
She missed her sisters, particularly Jane, but she also felt a singular clarity of satisfaction in being alone. She found it did wonders for her ability to think and to hear her thoughts. How had she ever had a moment's peace at Longbourn?
Men! No wonder they were able to write whole encyclopedias of books—fiction and non-fictional worlds spun out of their very minds-–if they lived like this, they were able to imagine and create stories of different worlds around them with nattering children or family distracting them.
She had heard of famous male writers who locked themselves in separate rooms from their families all day long to work. She supposed it was necessary finish work, but she felt a stab of anger at the unfairness of it all. She had seen enough women with children strapped to their hips, a new one each year, to know childbearing was its own form of labor. Why could men and women not share child-rearing or at least a portion of it? She rolled back on her bed. She had been having the strangest thoughts since her enchantment had occurred. Frankly, it was a bit frightening.
Miss Maria Lucas kept accidentally kicking Darcy's legs from the seat across the carriage.
At least he assumed it was an accident.
Maria's big eyes widened, she bit her bottom lip, and looked remorseful when she whispered, "Sorry, Elizabeth," each time she did it. But that did not entirely make Darcy forgive her.
To be fair, there was not much legroom in the carriage with both Maria and her father, Lord Lucas, squeezed in across from Darcy, even if he was in Elizabeth's small body. The Lucases lady's maid, Ingrid, was also there next to Darcy. He considered the days he had his own coach to travel the dusty roads to Rosings. Usually, he went on horseback if he could. All that road to himself to think. What a luxury. Now he had to listen to Mariah discuss the merits of her three favorite dresses with her maid.
"But the yellow one does show off my hair to its best effect…" she said.
"Yes, madam." her maid agreed.
"What do you think, Elizabeth?"
Lord, she was asking him about this.
Simple. Do not panic. Plead ignorance. "I do not recall your yellow dress.."
"But I wore it only a few weeks ago at Michaelmas. You sat next to me."
"Did I?" Darcy struggled.
"You have forgotten already?"
"I am afraid I have."
"I can show it to you once we arrive at Rosings," Maria said. "Do you think Lady Catherine will be very stern?"
Here Darcy suppressed a smile. "She has been described as such. But you are a dutiful girl, you will not displease her."
Lord Lucas patted her arm. "You shall see how Charlotte makes do and follow her lead. You shall do fine."
Maria sighed. "Lydia says Lady Catherine sounds like an old crone trying to control her relatives through her wealth."
Darcy blinked back, shocked both at the description and its accuracy. "Lydia IS far too free with her thoughts. She needs to show her elders respect."
Darcy's eyes followed the horizon he knew so well, knowing in another moment, Rosings would appear like a fortress behind the hills. His heart fluttered in Elizabeth Bennet's chest. Hopefully he assumed, on more familiar ground, he might finally make things right and reverse this ridiculousness. But he felt more exposed than ever as simple, small Elizabeth Bennet. When Charlotte wrote and asked Elizabeth to visit as soon as possible, he realized Easter was the best possible chance to catch Darcy there at Rosings and undo the foolishness.
Hopefully, Elizabeth as Darcy had traveled here too as the gentleman's tradition dictated for the past several years. Unless Elizabeth Bennet had somehow changed the tradition. But that seemed unlikely. Easter tradition would be difficult to undo. Unless Miss Bennet were gallivanting about the countryside, spending his money. Miss Bennet was many things, but she did not seem irrational. At least not yet. He glanced down at the unfashionable secondhand dress he wore. Frankly, he might not blame her if she went on an untethered shopping spree. She would have earned it after a lifetime in secondhand garb. When he was back safely in his corporeal self again, he would splurge on some fine muslin for all the Bennet women, now that he waw familiar with lackluster threads they wore. That was the least he could do.