Page 29 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
He exhaled slowly. “They will have heard the collapse at Rosings.”
Miss Elizabeth turned her head. “So you have said. But then why have they not found us?”
He sighed. “Because they know I detest this place. They may search for me everywhere else first.”
She hummed in understanding. “Why were you here, then?”
“I always try to check on the position of the folly when I come to visit. But it was not until I viewed it from the road that I could see there had been worrying changes.” He paused. “You said your friend did not know you would walk here today.”
“No, alas. Your cousin intercepted me and suggested I visit the old orchard and the lake. I stopped here on the way back. If she asks your cousin, he will send her in the wrong direction.” She paused. “Why does your family treat you so dismissively?”
Darcy grunted. Her mind jumped from one topic to another, very unlike her typical style of conversation. “For a few reasons, I suspect.”
“What are they?”
“Must we discuss this?”
“No, but we must discuss something. I cannot sit too long in silence, Mr. Darcy, or I shall run mad.”
“No, I suppose sitting in one place is not—”
“Be very careful what you say next, Mr. Darcy,” she said tartly.
He chuckled. He could not help it. “I only meant that you are a very great walker, Miss Bennet, and yet you cannot engage in that pastime now.” He rode when he was agitated or just required peace. He thought Miss Elizabeth might use her walks in the same way.
“That is certainly true,” she replied.
Darcy felt his heart squeeze painfully at the wistfulness in her voice. He wished, more than anything, that he could rescue Miss Elizabeth himself and spare her any further pain or fear. But the prudent course was to wait. How long he did so before acting himself—that decision was not yet one which need be considered.
If speaking on other subjects helped her—well, he was her servant in all things, was he not? Even if she did not entirely believe it. “You may ask me any question you wish, Miss Bennet.”
“Why does your family dismiss your concerns?” she repeated. “I truly would never have expected such a thing.”
His head throbbed and he paused a moment to allow it to subside. “One reason is simply that I am the youngest male in my family, and I had been the youngest of all for nearly twelve years before my sister was born. Old habits are difficult to break.”
“Miss de Bourgh is older than you?”
“By almost two years.”
This seemed to surprise her. “So, old habits. But you believe there are other reasons as well?”
He nodded. He might as well be honest. He had already trusted her with the most important secret he held.
“I had just completed my final examination at Cambridge,” he began, “and was on my way to the tavern with some of my friends to toast the conclusion of our studies when an express rider found me. He handed me a message. It said . . .” He hesitated as he recalled the words with perfect clarity. “‘Mr. Darcy, you are needed at home. Your father has been taken ill. The carriage will arrive shortly after this message. Please be ready to leave immediately.’”
She said nothing, but her eyes were trained on him.
“That was how I learned my father was dying.” He touched the bandage on his head.
She noticed. “You are bleeding through the bandage, Mr. Darcy. Where is the rest of your cravat?”
He picked up the remnants of the cloth. “Not terribly clean, I am afraid.”
“I will only use it over the other bandages, so it will not matter as much.”
She was favouring her arm but managed to wrap the cloth around his head. As she worked, she said, “How did you know that his illness was so severe?”
“My father would not have allowed them to summon me had he been well enough to protest. And he would have written himself.”
