Page 38 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
“All I ask is that yourecogniseme in public. If we are at the same venue at the same time, just talk to me as slightly more than an indifferent acquaintance. It will help my position at no cost to yourself. I need not be your best friend—just someone you do not shun or ignore.”
Quite surprised the cost was so light, she offered her hand. “It is a bargain. I cannot promise that I will ever enter society, but if I do—” then she thought a minute. “Frankly, Miss Bingley, it seems a bit superfluous. My husband is more likely to keep his friendship with your brother than with me. You will automatically be recognised by the Darcys.”
“You really have no idea. It is one thing to be recognised by Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and something entirely different to be recognised byMrs Darcy.I assure you, there is value in it for me.”
Elizabeth was puzzled by the whole bargain. “I will do more than that. You came here in good faith, in the certain knowledge that I did not like you, and that my husband could make things difficult. You offered honesty and—dare I say—friendship?When and if I ever make it to London, you may consider me afriendand act accordingly—for what it is worth.”
Caroline smiled like the sun coming out after a cloudy day, and Elizabeth felt like she had done something worthwhile. Aside from teaching Molly and Noah to read, it was the first truly worthy thing she had done as Mrs Darcy. It bore some thought that she had done almost nothing in her new position and did not seem likely to any time soon. It was a disheartening thought.
With a sigh, she said, “I suppose taking in a weary traveller who is well known to the Darcys would not be considered entertaining?”
“You would not entertain your husband’s own uncle. I would not push my luck if I were you,” Caroline laughed.
Elizabeth was disheartened by the thought. “No, I suppose that is wise, though I must own that it grates on my nerves.”
“As the soldiers say, you need to keep your powder dry.”
“What an unusual analogy. I do believe you have more depth than I had believed, Miss Bingley.”
“I do try, Mrs Darcy.”
“Elizabeth!”
Surprised, the lady replied, “Caroline!”
Elizabeth noticed the sun was approaching the horizon. She was surprised to learn Caroline had been there several hours.
“I think I can arrange for your carriage to be broken for the night, if you care to stay, Caroline, but I will draw the line at dressing for dinner.”
“Are you certain?”
“Dead certain,” Elizabeth replied emphatically, wondering if that was the moment for her to quit whimpering and finally start taking charge of her own life.
She rang the bell-pull for the butler and wondered if it worked. When he appeared, she imparted the properinstructions and ordered the kitchen staff to prepare a proper formal meal—if they still remembered how.
After a wonderful dinner, which tasted like the kitchen was dying to impress the new mistress, and a good night’s sleep, she saw her one and only true friend of her own station off in the morning, wondering when and if she would ever see her again.
15.Lots of Company
“Monsieur Darcy, I have bad news.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy stopped his slow struggle across the room to lean against a bed. “Pray, go on, Mlle Babette,” he replied in serviceable French.
In the four weeks since he woke from his most recent bout of fever, Darcy found his French adequate and improving by the day. He spoke with Nurse Dashwood, Mlle Babette (he could not bring himself to address her with too much familiarity), and the young orderly, M Barbeau. The latter had been helping him get his strength back, and as Mlle Dashwood had predicted, it was weeks before he could get to the privy or dress himself, and weeks more before he could walk to the end of the long room holding his bed.
Sergeant Ralston returned to the English once he was well enough to move and never explained why he was so far from the lines, since the French and English were mostly fighting in Spain. It made no sense that the entire British army was on one side of the Pyrenees and the sergeant’s company was on the other; but he supposed he would never understand the ways of the army.
He had written to Major Boucher, his contact in the French army, after his first recovery, and it had taken until his third bout with fever to finally get a reply. Unfortunately, that reply indicated the major was unlikely to be useful to his cause, since he was dead. It listed a half-dozen replacements who might be useful, so Darcy had dutifully written to all of them, and received replies that were not exactly auspicious, but not the end of the world either. It seemed that just finding his cousin was going to be a tedious process.
He slowly brought his focus back to his companion, who had waited a few moments, apparently accustomed to his mind wandering at times.
Babette’s reply was in French, but slightly slower than she usually spoke. “We have an outbreak of typhus in a village thirty km from here. They are bringing somewhere between one and four dozen patients.”
Darcy nodded. “Allow me to help.”
Babette shook her head. “You still seem confused. You are the patient, and we the nurses.”
Darcy chuckled a bit and was just ready to answer when Nurse Dashwood joined. “You heard.”
