Darkness Falls Upon Pemberley Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrongly, Miss Bingley,” he said lowly, “you would succeed only in casting yourself in a most unpropitious and unflattering light, especially since all of Hertfordshire must certainly have noticed the fervency of my admiration of the very lady you are so intent on disparaging. In fact, it’s been many weeks now that I’ve considered Miss Elizabeth Bennet one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
    The lady’s eyes widened in shock, and for once she appeared to have nothing to say.
    Darcy’s satisfaction at having rendered her speechless was short-lived, however, as he recalled he was not only a guest in Bingley’s home, but in Miss Bingley’s as well, and a gentleman—not some indecorous churl. Clearly, the time had come for him to take his leave and withdraw above stairs for the rest of the night. “Pray excuse me,” he muttered as he offered both women a stiff, conciliatory bow. “I’m afraid I’m feeling unwell, and will retire to my apartment directly. Good evening to you.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    F ive
     
    Wide bands of sunlight shone through the bedchamber windows, eliciting a low groan from Darcy as he shielded his eyes with his hands. The stark brightness made the pounding in his head unbearable, and he cursed whatever servant was responsible for daring to draw the curtains that morning without first obtaining his consent. Throughout the night the master of Pemberley’s repose had been fitful at best, and now, in addition to a throbbing headache, he suffered a sore throat, chills, and a fever.
    Parched with thirst, Darcy licked his lips and squinted toward the bedside table, hoping to discover a pitcher of water. He struggled to sit upright and was nearly overcome by the effort it cost him. The encroaching blackness behind his eyes and ringing in his ears made his head spin, and for several excruciating moments he fought against the urge to retch.
    Swallowing thickly, he wiped beads of sweat from his brow with shaking fingers and willed the sensation to pass. He’d no recollection of ever feeling so weak and helpless, even as a young boy. As a grown man, enduring such a situation was nothing short of intolerable, yet here he was, powerless and without a remedy in sight.
    With a muttered exhalation he felt for the bell pull, yanked the cord, and collapsed onto his pillow, where he prayed that his man Jennings would soon appear with an elixir that would magically restore him to health. As unlikely as it was, at the moment it was all the hope Darcy had.
     
    †
    Darcy was having the strangest dream. Elizabeth Bennet was standing in his bedchamber wearing nothing but a dressing gown the color of fresh cream. A riotous mess of curls framed her face and tumbled down her back, giving her the appearance of a nighttime fey, untamed and otherworldly as she argued quietly with his valet from the foot of his bed.
    “I should not be here,” she insisted, her eyes darting to where Darcy lay, then away. “It was very wrong of me to come.”
    In her hand she held a taper made of beeswax. Its flame bathed her features in glowing warmth, rendering her so beautiful that Darcy suddenly found it difficult to breathe. How long had it been since he’d seen her? How long since he’d inhaled her sweet scent? At the moment he couldn’t recall. He knew only that he’d missed her beyond reason, that he craved her presence more than food or water, exercise and air.
    “You mustn’t speak so,” Jennings chided. “Not when you may be of help.”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m not a doctor. Though I wish it with all my heart, I can do nothing for Mr. Darcy that would not result in more pain and a lifetime of regret, for both of us. You’d do far better to send for Mr. Jones.”
    Jennings scoffed. “Mr. Jones intends to bleed him unless he is better by morning. Cutting into his flesh will only rob my master of what little energy he has left. I cannot allow it, not when it is