Mr Darcy's Christmas Angel Read online

  Mr Darcy’s Christmas Angel

  By

  Katy Green

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person or incident is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Chapter One

  ‘Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth . . . ’ cried Mr Darcy.

  He was tossing and turning in the huge four poster bed, tormented by a virulent fever which had been brought on by a fall from his horse. The room was lit only by three tall candles on the mantelpiece and the glow of the log fire. The dim light showed his restless figure and it showed another figure over by the window. Colonel Fitzwilliam was there, gnawing his bitten-down nails in a way he had not done since he was a child. Every groan from the bed was like a knife through his vitals and every cry was like a dagger to the heart. If Darcy were to die . . . No, he would not think of it. He could not think of it. They had been friends ever since they were children and to lose Darcy so young would rend his emotions in a way that seeing many battle deaths had never done, for not only would Darcy be a loss to his friends and cousins, he would be irreplaceable for his sister Georgiana, who was mercifully unaware of her brother’s dangerous state of health.

  ‘Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth . . . ’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam heard the anguish in that cry and understood it well. He was one of the few men who knew that Mr Darcy had fallen in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and proposed to her, but had been rejected. It was not surprising. Darcy had been vain and conceited. He had been proud and arrogant. He had thought Elizabeth would accept him but he had been wrong. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a unique young woman. She demanded more than a fine house and a fine person from a husband. She demanded kindness and generosity; good manners and sympathy for others; love and honesty; all the virtues she had never seen in Darcy. And so she had rejected him with asperity. By Elizabeth he had been properly humbled, and he had regretted it every day since.

  The door of the bedchamber opened and the physician entered. He was a London man and the best in his field. He attended the royal family when they were ill and Colonel Fitzwilliam had called him in when Darcy had first been thrown from his horse. There had been a great deal of bruising and Mr Darcy had been knocked unconscious but the worst fear was that a fever would set in, which could be fatal. The worst had happened, a fever had set in, and now Mr Darcy lay at death’s door.

  The physician went over to the bed and lifted Mr Darcy’s wrist, feeling his pulse whilst looking at the watch which was chained to his waistcoat. He set Mr Darcy’s hand down again and felt his forehead. He carried out some other necessary investigations and spoke to Mr Darcy’s valet, who was attending on his sick master, then turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam with a grave face.

  ‘Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth . . .’ cried Mr Darcy as he continued to toss and turn in the bed.

  ‘How is he?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  ‘I will not disguise from you that he is very ill indeed,’ said the physician.

  ‘Do you mean . . . ’ Colonel Fitzwilliam could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

  ‘I mean that unless his fever breaks soon I fear we may lose him,’ said the physician. ‘I am sorry. I do not mean to worry you. But it is better to face the truth. As a military man I am sure you agree with me on that.’

  ‘Yes. I do. But it is still terrible news.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sat down heavily on the chair by the window and put his head in his hands.

  ‘Elizabeth . . . ’ called Mr Darcy again.

  The physician said, ‘The name he keeps calling . . . do you know who the . . . ’

  He paused, and Colonel Fitzwilliam supplied the word, ‘lady’, instead of ‘woman’.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said the physician, understanding the distinction. A lady was a gentleman’s daughter, whereas a woman would have probably been a mistress. ‘Do you know who the lady is?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘I have been wondering whether I ought to tell her about his condition and ask her if she will come to him. I have been thinking of it all day. Do you think it would give my cousin some rest if she could be brought here? If so, then I will go and fetch her, if she will come.’

  ‘It might be of some help to him,’ said the physician. ‘I cannot say. There is nothing certain in cases like this and I cannot say definitely one way or another. I was not really thinking of bringing her here so that she could help him.’ He hesitated but then went on in a manly fashion. ‘I am afraid that what I was really thinking was that she might like a chance to say goodbye.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam let out a heartfelt groan. ‘Then you think the end is certain?’

  ‘I did not say so,’ remarked the physician. ‘He may yet recover. I have seen cases where a man has been despaired of entirely and then made a full recovery so do not give up hope. But I think you should be prepared for the worst, and anyone who loves him should also be prepared. His sister . . . ’

  ‘No!’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam with decision. ‘When my cousin was yet well enough, before the fever took him completely, he told me that under no circumstances must I make Miss Darcy aware of his condition. He did not want her to be worried.’

  ‘If she does not know about it, then she is not in the house, I take it?’ asked the physician with a grave air.

  ‘No. She is visiting her relatives in Kent for the festive season. She will remain there until the New Year. Unless . . . ’

  He did not want to say, ‘Unless her brother dies, in which case I will bring her home.’

  ‘Well, let us not give up hope,’ said the physician briskly. ‘Mr Darcy is young and strong. There is yet a chance he will pull through. But if Miss Elizabeth could be found I think it would be a good idea to bring her here. It might ease Mr Darcy to see her and, if all hope proves in vain, it would give her a chance to say goodbye.’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. He rose from his seat and shook the physician by the hand.

  ‘Thank you for all you have done, and thank you for being honest with me. It was hard for me to hear but it is better for me to know the truth. Will you come again tomorrow?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  ‘Certainly. I will call three times a day for as long as I am needed,’ said the physician.

  ‘Are your rooms comfortable at the inn? Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, would be glad to make up a room for you here if you wished.’

  ‘No, I thank you. I am comfortable at the inn.’

  ‘Very well.’

  The two men bowed and the physician left the room.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke to Mr Darcy’s valet, telling him he must ring for any help he needed. The valet bowed in acknowledgement of this command and then Colonel Fitzwilliam left the room, going along the landing and down the wonderful staircase with long, running strides. If Miss Elizabeth’s presence would ease his cousin then he must bring her. He did not know how it was to be done, but he must find a way to bring her to Pemberley with all propriety, for his cousin needed her and Colonel Fitzwilliam would leave no stone unturned in trying to help Mr Darcy.

  Chapter Two

  Miss Elizabeth Bennet was sitting on the window seat in the drawing-room of Longbourn, feeling sore at heart. The view from the window was beautiful, with a lig
ht dusting of snow covering the lawn and a sparkling frost covering the bare branches of the trees. The holly bushes had bright red berries shining in the midst of their prickly leaves and there was a robin pecking beneath it, but the pretty sight could not alleviate her low spirits. She knew nothing of Mr Darcy’s fall, or his precarious state of health, but she knew had lost the only man she had ever loved – the only man she would ever love – and it was hard to bear. She put a good face on it for her family’s sake, but there was a constant ache inside her as she feared she would never see Mr Darcy again.

  Her aunt, Mrs Gardiner, came over to the window seat and sat beside her. The Gardiners were visiting for Christmas, as they did every year. Mrs Gardiner was one of the few people who knew Elizabeth’s history with Mr Darcy: how he had been abominably rude when they met just over a year previously, insulting her at a ball; how he had proposed to Elizabeth in an arrogant manner which meant she had refused him; how her feelings had changed when she had learned that Mr Darcy was not as bad as she thought him; how she had met Mr Darcy again some months later in Derbyshire and he had been polite and charming; how the two of them had seemed destined for a life together, until Elizabeth’s sister Lydia had run away with Mr Wickham; and how, since the day she had learned about Lydia’s shame, Elizabeth had never seen Mr Darcy again. He had made sure that Wickham married Lydia, but after that he had not contacted her. He had not called or made any effort to see her, so he must be so disgusted with her family that he could not bear to be connected to it. It cut her to the heart. Just as everything had seemed as if it were going to work out between them, everything fell apart, so now she felt she had a gaping hole inside her. It was a wound that would not heal.

  ‘I know what you are thinking, Lizzy,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Or should I say, I know of whom you are thinking. But you have to move on with your life. You are young and healthy. There are other young men and you must make an effort to find them. You cannot sit here by yourself all your life.’

  ‘You mean, I must go out with my family the next time they are invited to a neighbour’s entertainment, instead of pleading a headache?’ asked Elizabeth, shamefaced, for she had done exactly that the evening before.

  ‘Yes. I do mean that,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘I know this is hard for you but you must try, otherwise things will never improve.’

  Elizabeth curled up on the window seat, pulling her legs under her and tugging her long muslin skirt down to cover her feet.

  ‘I do not want to go into company again because I do not want to lead anyone on,’ said Elizabeth. ‘My heart is already taken and I do not feel comfortable speaking to young men, and dancing with them, when I know it can lead to nothing.’

  ‘Do you think they are all going to propose to you?’ asked Mrs Gardiner teasingly.

  ‘Of course not!’ said Elizabeth. ‘I am not so vain. But some of them might see me in the light of a possible wife and I do not think it is fair to allow them to think it. Short of telling them that my heart is broken at our first meeting, I do not know how to put them on their guard, and so I find it easier not to go into company. I cannot go round telling every young man I meet that I will never love again.’

  ‘You do not give yourself enough credit,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Your behaviour has always been exemplary. No gentleman would feel you were leading him on. You are polite and agreeable, and I must admit that many men will find you desirable, but they will not advance without some encouragement and that is something you will not give – at least, not unless you find another man who is special to you.’

  Elizabeth sighed, but she made an effort and said, ‘Very well, aunt, I will try to go out more, if only to please you. I will never find anyone who is special to me in that way. But if I make sure I do not say anything that might be misunderstood as encouragement, then I suppose I can go into society again.’

  ‘Do not do it only for me. Do it for yourself as well,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘You are broken hearted at the moment, and I can understand that. Men like Mr Darcy do not come along every day. But in time your hurt will fade and you might find a man you like. You might even find another man you love.’

  ‘Never,’ said Elizabeth with a firm shake of her head. ‘I know that will not happen.’

  ‘Well, then, another man you like. You cannot spend your entire life with ladies. You like dancing and you must have some gentlemen to partner you, at the very least. You must also have some gentlemen to sing with you when you hold a musical evening. So please make an effort to find some gentlemen you like. Believe me, they will know the difference between a young lady who is pleasant and enjoys dancing with them, and a young lady who is falling in love with them. You must give them some credit for intelligence.’

  Elizabeth gave another heartfelt sigh because she really did not want to do it, but she knew that her aunt was only trying to help her. She was a young lady with a kind and generous spirit, and she appreciated her aunt’s kindly-meant words, so she promised she would try.

  Chapter Three

  Mr Darcy lay tossing and turning in his bed, mumbling Elizabeth’s name. At their first meeting he had been unpardonably rude when he had insulted her, but in his dreams he was reliving their first meeting and putting right what had been wrong . . .

  . . . It was the night of the Meryton assembly. Mr Darcy was there as a guest of his friend Mr Charles Bingley and the two of them created quite a stir when they walked into the assembly room. News of their arrival in the neighbourhood had already spread and they had been visited by all of their new neighbours. Mr Darcy turned up his nose as he saw all the people at the assembly. They were not fashionable people, like Charles’s sisters Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst. Their dresses were provincial and he just knew he was going to find their chatter provincial as well. He shuddered. He wished Charles did not like this sort of thing. He would have much rather stayed at Netherfield Park and played cards and chess and billiards, with perhaps an elegant parade around the room with Miss Bingley after supper whilst her sister played on the pianoforte.

  But here he was, like a fish out of water, being stared at by dozens of pairs of eyes who were weighing him up and assessing his worth. It was all very tedious. It had happened so many times before and he hated it every time.

  Charles found the prettiest girl in the room to dance with and was soon enjoying her smiles. Mr Darcy stood at the side of the room with Charles’s sisters until the dance ended. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst went over to the punch table with Mr Hurst for some refreshments and Mr Bingley laughed at Mr Darcy for not dancing. He suggested Mr Darcy should dance with the sister of his partner and Mr Darcy turned bored eyes in her direction. He was just about to say that she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him, when he caught her eye and realised she might overhear, and so he hesitated. That hesitation was all the encouragement Mr Bingley needed. He fetched his partner, Miss Jane Bennet, and asked her to perform the introductions. This she did, with many a sweet blush and pretty smile. Mr Darcy could understand why his friend was enchanted by her. He accepted her sister’s curtsey and made a bow, then offered Miss Elizabeth his hand for the dance.

  He expected to be mortified, and wished he had thought of an excuse not to dance, but instead he was pleasantly surprised. Miss Elizabeth was a good dancer. Her steps were light and her figure was pleasing. And her eyes were really remarkably fine. The more he danced with her, the more he found himself looking at them. They were a lovely oval shape and they were a warn chocolate brown, with dark lashes that showed up delightfully next to her skin. She had cherry red lips – all the better for kissing! he thought – and rosy cheeks . . .

  . . . The delightful vision faded as the fever raged, and Mr Darcy tossed and turned again in the large four poster bed.

  Chapter Four

  Colonel Fitzwilliam felt the biting air of the cold December wind as he drove his carriage to Hertfordshire but he was glad of it because it kept him awake. In the overheated sick room he had inhabited for the
last few days he had become sluggish, but now he was awake and alive again. He was driving his own carriage but he had a coachman beside him who could take over when he needed a rest. He wanted to reach Hertfordshire as quickly as possible and he did not want to stop along the way.

  He whipped up the horses and thought of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the young lady who had entranced his cousin and won his cousin’s heart. Colonel Fitzwilliam himself had not been immune to her charms. He had met her at Rosings and he had found her a delight, but he had to marry an heiress and he could not afford to indulge his preference for a lively, sparkling young lady who had only a thousand pounds to her name.

  As he drove along the snow-lined roads he wondered what he should say when he arrived. It would be unthinkable to ask an unmarried young lady to wait upon an unmarried gentleman, even if he was sick and possible dying. It would fly in the face of convention and leave the young lady open to gossip. But he could not for the life of him think of any other reason to give for requiring Miss Elizabeth’s presence at Pemberley. He could not say that Miss Darcy was longing to see Miss Elizabeth, since Miss Darcy was not in residence. But he must give some reason – not to Elizabeth herself, for to her he would give the real reason, but to the world at large.

  He drove through the night and arrived at Hertfordshire the following day. He had stopped only for brief times along the way, when the horses needed changing, and both he and the coachman had taken the opportunity afforded by those brief stops to eat a hot meal and fortify themselves with some brandy, as well as supplying themselves with hot bricks to warm their feet. So by the time he reached Longbourn House he was very tired. But his concern for his cousin kept him alert and he strode up to the door like a man who had had a full night’s sleep.

  He spoke pleasantly to the maid who let him in, saying that he had been passing and had called to give Miss Elizabeth news of her friend, Mrs Collins, in Kent. He was shown into the drawing-room where he repeated his tale, which was believed by all and sundry. It provided an acceptable reason for him being there and he knew it would not occasion any gossip. He was offered tea and he was grateful for the hot beverage, as well as the sandwiches and cakes he was offered with it. As he ate and drank and made polite conversation he began to see how his important business might be managed, for Miss Elizabeth’s aunt, Mrs Gardiner, was staying in the house.