Mr. Darcy's Refuge (2 page)

He took his usual seat, trying to make sense of her serious demeanor. Surely she must know why he was there? She should be delighted at his presence! Then it hit him. She must have been expecting his addresses these last several weeks, and his reticence had injured her sensibilities. It was only natural. What lady would not feel wounded when an eligible suitor seemed unable to make up his mind about her? In sudden generosity of spirit, he decided he must be completely open with her. He would tell her his dilemma and why he had delayed so long, and how his love for her had overcome all barriers. He would help her see that it was not a reflection on her charms or the depth of his feeling for her. On the contrary, the extent of his struggle showed the strength of his devotion. But how to begin? She seemed reluctant even to look at him.

His agitation of spirit could not be contained, so he left the chair to pace around the small room, searching for the words to express himself. He wanted nothing more than to pour his heart out at her feet, but first he must tend to the injury he had unwittingly inflicted upon her. What a fool he had been to wait so long to claim her as his intended!

He could not wait another minute. He approached her, coming as near as propriety would allow, and the words began tumbling forth. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

What a relief it was to finally say the words! He had Elizabeth’s complete attention now; she was almost staring at him, her cheeks becomingly flushed, apparently at a loss for words. Telling her was the right thing to do. With greater certainty, he continued, “I have admired you from almost the first moment we met, and it has been many months since I have known that my life would be incomplete without you in it. You may wonder why I have been silent until now, and question the strength of my devotion, but I can assure you it had nothing to do with the depth of my love. I had not known myself capable of a passion such as this. For the first time in my life, I have understood what it was that inspired the greatest poets to produce their masterpieces. Until I met you, I thought their words of love were but a form of artistic hyperbole, and I could not believe that any man would actually find himself so overcome with violent love. But in you I have discovered what it is to need another as I need the air to breathe.”

He paused to collect his thoughts as thunder briefly drowned out his ability to speak. “Indeed, I should have made this offer to you long ago, had it not been for the disparity in our stations in life. My family has a long and distinguished history, with the expectation that I would marry a lady of rank and fortune, and you do not fall into either category. Your lack of dowry could perhaps be overlooked, but my parents would have been horrified at your low connections. Your father is a gentleman, although of a rank inferior to mine, but your mother’s family must be seen as a degradation. I had no choice but to fight against my attraction to you with all the strength I could muster, my judgment warring with my inclination. I do not have the words to describe the battles I have fought with myself, but in the end, in spite of all my endeavors, I found it impossible to conquer my attachment to you. My sentiments have proved powerful enough to overcome all the expectations of family and friends. My devotion and ardent love have been fiercely tested and emerged triumphant. May I dare hope that my violent love for you will be rewarded by your acceptance of my hand in marriage?” He gazed into her bright eyes, awaiting her affirmative response.

Elizabeth, seeming at a loss for words, unfolded her hands, but at his eager look, she hastily refolded them. She inhaled deeply and said, “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could
feel
gratitude, I would…”

Loud pounding from the front of the house interrupted her words. Elizabeth’s brows gathered as she looked over her shoulder towards the door of the parsonage.

A deep shout from without all but rattled the windows. “What ho, the house! For the love of God, let us in!”

Darcy frowned furiously in the direction of the racket. How dare anyone interrupt him at this tender moment and in such a manner? The voice betrayed low origins. Could there be footpads abroad on such a night as this? He could make out the sound of crying children now. Where was that maid? Just then a brilliant flash of lightning flooded the room with light, accompanied by an ear-splitting crack of thunder and a resounding crash. A child’s scream pierced the night, and the pounding began anew.

Darcy strode to the window. Through the rain streaming down the window he could make out the shape of a fallen tree limb. The giant chestnut tree had been split down the middle, smoke rising from the ragged stump. A cluster of shapes huddled nearby.

Light footsteps behind him alerted him to Elizabeth’s presence. She stood just behind him, her hands covering her mouth. The whiteness of her face stirred him into action. He gripped her arm lightly, even in the crisis marveling at his right to do so, “There is nothing to fear. Lightning struck the tree outside, but we are perfectly safe. I will deal with this.”

He walked purposely toward the front door, discovering the maid cowering in the entryway. Frowning at her, he threw open the door to reveal a roughly dressed old man, soaked to the skin, with perhaps two dozen others, mostly women, behind him.

The man said, “Please, sir, the water’s rising somethin’ fierce! It carried off Smither’s cottage and his wife and children with it, and half the village is knee deep in water. We never seen the like of it, never! You have to help us, sir!”

For a moment Darcy wondered irritably if they thought he had the power to stop the river, then he realized the parsonage and church occupied the highest ground on this bank. They had fled to the safest spot they knew.

A high keening reached his ear as a woman appeared, tugging at the man’s arm. “It’s Miller’s Jenny. She’s trapped under the tree, and we can’t lift it!”

Darcy swore under his breath, then turned to the maid. “Take the women and children to the kitchen and build up the fire.” He frowned at the pouring rain. There was no help for it; he would have to go out.

The fallen chestnut was no more than a score of steps away, but cold rain was already trickling down Darcy’s neck when he reached it, following the sound of a child’s wails. He could barely make out shapes pulling at the fallen tree trunk. It was large enough that he would not have been able to wrap his arms around it. One of the figures slipped on the wet grass and fell hard, swearing in the shifting tones of a boy whose voice was starting to turn. Darcy’s vision was beginning to adjust. It was nothing more than the old man and two lads trying to shift a limb far beyond their weight. Darcy crouched down by the small child whose legs were trapped, examining the position of the fallen limb.

“We’ll need a lever,” he said decisively. “You, boy – run to the house and tell them we need a crowbar or something like it, whatever they have.” He pointed to the other boy. “You must find some other branches, big ones. Where are the other men?”

“In t’ village still, tryin’ to save what they can,” the old man said. “Sent me with t’ women, they did.”

Darcy nodded, then turned to the little girl. “You must be very brave and listen carefully to what I say. We are going to find a way to move this, and when I give the word, you must pull yourself out from under it as quickly as may be. Do you understand?”

“Ye…Yes, sir,” she whimpered. “Please, it hurts so much!”

“We’ll have you out of there as soon as we can.” And Elizabeth would be waiting for him, like the treasure at the end of a knight’s quest. With a warm feeling inside despite the cold rain, Darcy pushed a lock of sodden hair out of his eyes, then broke a branch from the trunk and began wedging it under the fallen wood.

***

Elizabeth hurried upstairs to the closets so carefully arranged according to the direction of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It was simple to find the blankets she was seeking, but there were not as many as she had hoped. She added the blanket from her own bed for good measure, then returned to the kitchen and began distributing them, encouraging the women with young children to wrap the blankets around them for warmth. The fire was as high as the maid had dared make it, but the soaked refugees still shivered.

An older women was standing alone, her chapped hands outstretched to the fire. Elizabeth approached her and said, “Can you tell me of the situation in the village?”

The woman shook her head. “You can’t believe how high that water is, and the current strong enough to pull a man off his feet. There won’t be much left by the time it goes down.” Her voice trembled a little.

Elizabeth bit her lip. While Mr. Collins and his wife Charlotte were at Rosings Park, it was up to her to make arrangements for all these people. She had no idea what food stores were available or where they would sleep, but she could hardly send Mr. Collins’s newly-homeless parishioners out into the storm with nowhere to go.

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Mr. Darcy, his dark curls sodden and dripping into his face, carrying a young girl in his arms. He called across the kitchen, “Miss Bennet, a word, if you please?”

She drew in a sharp breath. What was he still doing there? She had expected him to be long gone after she refused his startling offer of marriage. After that insulting proposal, she despised him more than ever, and as her rejected suitor, he must be furious with her. He had clearly expected her to accept him. What unlucky fate had forced them to be together, especially under these circumstances?

Still, she had no choice but to follow him into the hallway. The last thing she wanted to do was to meet his eyes, so instead she turned her gaze to the limp form in his arms. “Is she injured?” she asked.

“I believe her leg is broken. It is fortunate for her that she fainted when we tried to move her. What is the best place for her?” Mr. Darcy sounded remarkably calm under the circumstances. His tone carried none of the anger she had expected.

If he could be civil, she would as well. “Could you bring her upstairs? I will show you the way.” The simplest thing would be to put the child in the room she shared with Maria, since the bed in the spare room was not made up.

He inclined his head. The gesture lost a great deal of its aristocratic air owing to the water dripping from his hair. Elizabeth barely controlled a smile as she fetched a candle from the sitting room and led him up the dark staircase to her room. She set the candle on the vanity and found a towel to spread across the bed.

The little girl moaned as Mr. Darcy set her on the bed, taking great care to move her as gently as possible. One of her legs was bent at an unnatural angle. Elizabeth tried to remove her shoe, but stopped as her action provoked another moan from the child. She only hoped the girl would remain unconscious long enough for her wet clothes to be removed.

Elizabeth dried her hands on a corner of the towel, then looked up to find Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes fixed on her. She realized with a shock that, apart from the unconscious girl, she was alone in a dark bedroom with a man who claimed to be violently in love with her. To her utter astonishment, he smiled slightly.

“But you are quite wet, sir! Mr. Collins’s rooms are just down the passage. I am sure he would not object to the use of some of his clothing. After all, he would be mortified if you were to take a chill while in his house,” Elizabeth said, aware that she was babbling.

“An excellent idea,” he said, but made no move to go.

“And I must find this child’s mother. She will need comfort when she awakens.” Elizabeth began backing out of the room, anxious to depart from his unnerving presence.

He picked up the candle and held it out to her. “Do not forget this. I would not want you to trip on the stairs.”