Darcy & Elizabeth Read Online Free Page A

the proper vehemence. Seldom did he redress himself, but hindsight saw he should have extended a rebuke—for thereafter her conduct did not improve. He gave not a fig if she called herself a nurse—the familiarity with which she tended to Fitzwilliam was unseemly. He had disapproved of her engaging in her nursing activities even when exacted upon the ill inhabiting Pemberley’s lands. But due to the seriousness of Fitzwilliam’s condition, Darcy had always held greater concern for her sensibilities than her virtue. He could not stop from snorting contemptuously at the realisation that his beloved sister’s deflowerment was a fait accompli whilst he strode about worrying for their very lives.
    He had been compleatly unaware of their intimacy throughout their stay on the Continent and journey home. To be so compleatly insensible of what had clearly come to pass between them was a considerable blow to the ego of one who believed himself most wise in the ways of the world. It was Elizabeth who had the unhappy task of enlightening him to just how solicitous Georgiana’s care of Fitzwilliam had been. Not only was Darcy incensed to have been so compleatly duped, he was of the opinion that having one’s sister ruined was good reason to call the colonel out. That Fitzwilliam’s blood was not spilt was due only to Elizabeth’s earnest intervention—and undoubtedly, her insistent reminder that due to Fitzwilliam’s situation as an invalid, Georgiana had hardly been coerced.
    Uncertain whether or not that was a comfort, Darcy grudgingly gave his blessing to the union.
    There were far more sombre matters that attended Darcy’s homecoming than scandalous liaisons. Darcy learnt of the death of Elizabeth’s father, not from her, but in a private moment with Jane. His countenance darkened at the news, but he only consoled Jane perfunctorily. It was a lapse she ignored, for it was apparent that his thoughts had already returned to Elizabeth. Jane watched him as he stood silent for a moment before entering her bedchamber. Although Jane knew he needed a moment to collect himself, she did not fear he would not find words of comfort. He had experienced the loss of his own esteemed father and knew just how deeply Elizabeth must be injured by such the untimely death of hers.
    His peek into the room saw her asleep but stirring. Although he crept quietly, she opened her eyes and turned to him. He knelt beside her and took her hand. The smile that had begun to overspread her face faded. However unintentional, his aspect betrayed that he knew of what sadness had come to pass.
    â€œSo,” she said with finality.
    To be spared the necessity of telling him was her only consolation. She had dreaded that. As the painful recollection revisited her, tears filled her eyes and she turned away.
    â€œMy heart is heavy for you, Lizzy,” said he, smoothing her hair with tender care.
    She wanted to respond, to offer him words of reassurance, but she had a catch in her throat that made it impossible to utter a sound. So choked was she, that she feared any attempt to speak would have her break into huge gulping sobs. Indeed, she dared not look at her husband’s face, fearing that too would send her into uncontrolled weeping. Her bereavement was not new. It was self-indulgent to suffer so deeply still. Her husband had not been home a day. Her husband’s happy homecoming should not fall victim to her own disorder. With that silent vow, her chin began to quiver and she knew keeping her countenance was lost. Hence, she gave way to the weep that was determined to have its way with her. She withdrew her hand from his and covered her face in a vain attempt to hide her distress.
    Knowing that she sought to spare him her hurt, he drew her into his embrace. Pressing her tearstained face against his neck, he kissed the top of her head.
    â€œShush, dearest Lizzy, pray do not weep,” he murmured. “I am