Page 20 of The Briar Bargain
"Perhaps a little," her sister admitted with a smile. "But it is nothing that proper rest will not remedy."
Elizabeth's lips curved in response, but unease lingered beneath her relief. She had acted without thought, as she always did when others were in danger, and had very nearly paid a steep price for it. Worse, she had dragged Mr. Darcy into the fray, and by all accounts, he had risked his own safety for hers.
The memory of being held against him, real or imagined, made her stomach flutter in the most peculiar way.
Jane leaned forward suddenly, pressing the back of her hand to Elizabeth's forehead. "You look flushed, and you feel rather warm. Do you feel well?"
"I am perfectly well," Elizabeth protested, pushing her sister's hand away while praying that Jane would not enquire further into the cause of her heightened colour. "I am merely adjusting to being awake."
"I will send for Mr. Jones when the roads clear."
"That is entirely unnecessary," Elizabeth said quickly. The last thing she needed was the apothecary examining her for physical ailments when she was not ill. "I am well, just rather tired. But Jane, I should like to speak with Mr. Darcy as soon as I am able. He deserves my thanks, and an apology for my behaviour."
"For saving a child? Surely not."
"For whatever unseemly conduct I may have exhibited whilst delirious. For forcing him to rescue me in the first place. For subjecting him to what must have been a deeply uncomfortable experience." Elizabeth sighed. "For existing, at this point."
Jane shook her head with fond exasperation. "I am sure he would be glad to hear from you. Though I suspect he thinks little of his own actions."
Elizabeth doubted that. Mr. Darcy was a man of great pride and greater propriety. Surely he viewed her reckless behaviour as confirmation of all his worst assumptions about her character. Yet as she searched her vague, cloudy memories, she did not believe there had been any censure in his voice when he had called her name, only urgency and something that had sounded almost like apprehension. Fear, even?
"Perhaps I might sit up for a moment," she said, attempting to change the subject. She lifted her head to try and immediately regretted it. Even that small movement sent a sharp pain across her back just below her shoulder blades and her vision wavering in a most alarming fashion.
"Absolutely not," Jane said firmly.
Elizabeth recognized the tone. Jane would not be moved. Although her body vehemently agreed with Jane's command, Elizabeth made a show of protesting. If she acquiesced too easily, her sister would worry.
The afternoon passed in a haze of dozing and brief awakenings. Elizabeth passed in and out of sleep, half-aware of the quiet movements in the room. Once, she thought she heard Mr. Bingley's cheerful tones in the hall, followed by the deep murmur of another voice that made her heart stop, then beat harder. She found herself straining to listen, then felt foolish for doing so.
She must have slept again, for when next she woke, candlelight filled the chamber and Jane was gently adjusting the blankets.
"I thought I heard voices earlier," Elizabeth murmured, her throat less raw now.
"Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy came to enquire after you. I assured them you were improving."
Elizabeth's stomach performed an odd little flip. "Did they say anything particular?"
Jane hesitated, then gazed curiously at her. "Only that they were relieved to hear you were recovering. And that you had been very courageous."
Elizabeth wondered which of the gentlemen had said so. Courageous? She had notfeltcourageous. She had felt cold and terrified and desperate. She had felt guilty for not noticing Peter sneak away to begin with.
"Mr. Darcy also asked," Jane continued, "whether you were experiencing any ill effects from your ordeal."
"He did?" Elizabeth tried to keep her voice casual, though something warm and fluttery was happening in her stomach.
"Indeed,” Jane said as she plumped up a pillow and set it behind Elizabeth’s back. “He is anxious about your recovery."
Elizabeth absorbed this information with growing confusion. In her experience, Mr. Darcy found her tolerable at best and impertinent at worst. That he should show such concern for her welfare was perplexing. Unless, of course, he felt somehow responsible for her condition, having been the one to pull her from the river. She felt that way sometimes, after she had helped someone.
"I must see him tomorrow," she said finally. "To thank him properly."
"You may, if you are strong enough. But only if you promise to rest tonight."
Elizabeth nodded, too weary to argue. As Jane moved about the room, tidying and preparing for the evening, Elizabeth's mind wandered. How did one thank a gentleman for saving one's life while also apologising for whatever it was she had done while insensible? The etiquette books she had read were woefully inadequate when it came to such matters.
As she drifted back to sleep, that persistent memory surfaced again, the warmth of his skin against her cheek, the steady rhythm of his breathing,the secure feeling of being held. What did it mean that she found the memory so comforting?
She shook her head slightly, sending a fresh wave of dizziness through her. Such thoughts were pointless and improper besides. Mr. Darcy had been brave and gallant, rescuing her at great danger to himself. That she had apparently made a spectacle of herself afterward was simply another embarrassment to add to the collection she had laboured on since she had first learned to walk.
