Mr Darcy's Mail-Order Bride Page 11

  “You?”

  “Sure. Somebody had to be. Why not me?”

  As he scooted back to the softness of the bed, he wondered at this woman in front of him as she immediately bent to the task of repositioning the splint on his leg.

  “Didn’t you ever want to be the princess or the damsel who needed rescued?” Darcy had no clue why her answer suddenly seemed so important, but it did.

  “Me? Never.” He felt her gaze. “You seem disappointed. Why?”

  He should have given his reply more thought because as soon as the words came out, even though they sounded good in his mind, he knew he had given her grounds for misunderstanding, which she did. “Because men want a woman who relies on his strength.”

  “You wanted a weak woman as your wife?” Her hands instinctively went to her hips and then she started stuffing the pillows under his leg with vigor. “Well, I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted and that you are stuck with me.”

  Before he could say a word, she was out the door. Moments later, the sound of footsteps outside his bedroom gave him hope she had returned and he could attempt to explain what he’d meant. However, it was Dan and Melvin coming to retrieve the bath and the chairs. Later, Maggie brought him his food tray. He didn’t see Elizabeth the rest of the night.

  A typical summer day in Oregon City could start with a morning sky so clear and blue it would hurt a person’s eyes to look at it for long. Minutes later it could rain. Since Elizabeth had been on the ranch, there hadn’t been one day without the chill of falling rain rotating with the heat of the July sun. When daylight broke on her twelfth morning at Pemberley, the temperature hovered between hot and hotter with no hint of precipitation. The weather seemed to settle into July, as if it would be taking up permanent lodging.

  Roses stood tall as they raised their glorious heads to the heavens and bumblebees flitted from one blossom to another. The fruit trees and the garden woke up and busied themselves in producing a bounty which would need harvesting before the rains fell again.

  In spite of it being just after breakfast, Elizabeth’s arms ached as she picked one ripe peach after another, placing them carefully into the bushel basket. Most of the orchard was apple and pear trees, but the abundance of light orange globes from the few peach trees had already filled three baskets. A slight breeze carried the scent of sweetness and she knew her kitchen would smell like heaven when she started making pies and cobblers.

  The foreman and his wife had taken the wagon to town the day before to attend services and load up on supplies at the mercantile so there was enough flour and sugar to make even the sourest person sweet. She hoped it helped Will Darcy.

  Smiling at the remembrance of the sounds of pure joy he had emitted when she dug her hands into his scalp and scrubbed his back around the purplish-yellow bruises a few days prior let her know more than anything that he was a man who could be pleased.

  Setting aside the last of the peaches, she selected one so ripe that beads of juice gathered on the outside. Raising it to her nose, she smelled the intense perfume, closing her eyes so she could remember the fragrance during the cold winter months. Elizabeth felt the need to share. Despite provocation, there was no sense in her being mean-spirited, and it might please him enough to make him smile.

  Returning to the house, she peeked her face around her husband’s bedroom door, holding the fruit behind her back. “I brought you something.”

  “You have a look of mischief about you, Elizabeth. What are you hiding?”

  She was pleased he wasn’t grumpy. Surely, he liked peaches. Who didn’t like peaches? Well, actually a friend from Baltimore, a Miss Weekly, broke out with red bumps each time she ate one. Hopefully, this wasn’t a bad idea.

  “Close your eyes,” she said softly.

  “I’d rather not.” He crossed his arms over his chest and his face took on his typical grouchy look.

  “I won’t share if you don’t. You will love it, I promise.”

  “You promise?” His surliness evolved into uncertainty.

  “Why don’t you trust me, Will?” Suddenly, it was about much more than the peach, and he seemed to recognize the import of his reply as well.

  “Richard and his brother, both of them being older than me, used to torment me with the same request—only it usually was a trick. I most often ended up with snakes, dead mice, rotten potatoes, and once, a picture of a scantily clad lady in my hands because I had closed my eyes when they’d asked.”

  “Surely, you didn’t mind the picture, did you?” she had to tease.

  “I was only eight years old and my father caught me, so, yes, I minded.”

  Shared laughter was a rarity for them, but it went a long way towards Elizabeth not thinking so poorly of Darcy.

  “I understand your trust issues, Will. However, you will learn that I would never torment…well, actually, I can’t honestly say what I had intended because I have been known to tease a time or two myself.” Their merriment filled the room. “I will promise you that this time I will play no tricks. In fact, if you watch me closely, I will turn my back to you and raise both my hands so what they contain is under my own nose before I attempt to put it under yours. You will see that I have nothing nefarious in mind.”

  Turning her back to him, she did as she had said she would, inhaling deeply and sighing.

  “I’ll do it.” Before she could turn back around he replied, and she was grateful he was willing to trust her in this.

  “Then close your eyes and breathe in deeply so you can smell summer.”

  His eyelids dropped and his long black lashes lay heavily on his cheeks. As soon as she moved the fruit closer, those same cheeks lifted into a smile.

  Elizabeth wanted to suck in a breath. He really was the handsomest man she had ever known.

  “Mm mm…peaches.” With his eyes still closed, he moved his hands up to gently clasp hers. Opening his mouth, he took a large bite. Juice shot everywhere—down his chin, on her hands and his…—so he had to flick his tongue out to lick the peach where he had bitten. She freed one hand and grabbed a towel from the stack she kept on hand, tucking it under his chin to catch the dribbles.

  He opened his eyes and suddenly she was having a hard time breathing. She wondered if the sweetness of the fruit was too cloying. Darcy seemed to be suffering the same affliction.

  Keeping his eyes on hers and her hand in his, he took another, much smaller bite. This time he was prepared for the mess. He didn’t even blink until the only thing remaining in the hand being cupped by his was the pit.

  She cleared her throat. “Good, huh?”

  “Oh, yes.” Before she realized his intentions, he drew her hand closer and licked the juice from her palm. Then it was Elizabeth who closed her eyes.

  “A-hem.” From the doorway, Maggie cleared her throat in the same manner Elizabeth had just done. “A wagon has pulled up with some sort of contraption in the back. Richard is driving and Georgiana is here.”

  “She’s here?” Immediately Elizabeth’s focus turned to their guests. She had no curiosity about the piece of equipment in the back of the wagon as Dr. Henderson had explained its purpose and that he would be sending it today. What held her attention was the young lady Darcy’s cousin was handing down from the seat. From the small glimpse through Will’s bedroom window, she could see that Miss Darcy was an elegant young lady who looked strikingly similar in appearance to Jane.

  Without looking back at her husband, she threw the peach pit in the garbage can and ran downstairs.

  Darcy was stunned. To say the tender moment hadn’t affected him would have been a blatant lie. As his wife had teased him and asked for his trust, he’d impulsively decided to do exactly that. He doubted she had any idea how hard that had been for him. He’d had a lifetime of putting himself forward, trying to glean a smidgeon of attention from his father, only to be shoved back so Wickham could be praised and petted. While his tale of the Fitzwilliam boys had been true, those had been the acti
ons of cousins who would never do him real harm. He could not say the same for his parent.

  Footsteps far too heavy to be his wife’s or Georgiana’s approached his door. He was unsurprised when his cousin entered the room. What did momentarily unsettle him was the presence of his foreman and the White brothers carrying one of the heavy dining room chairs.

  “Rise and shine, Darcy. You are about to taste freedom.” Richard had his ever-present grin as he threw back the covers from his cousin’s injured leg and carefully started removing the pillows.

  The men sat the chair next to his bed after moving the small table like they had done for his bath. At the same time, he noted muffled noises from downstairs, like chairs being slid under a dining table.

  “What’s going on?” His wife had said nothing about Georgiana’s appearance, and he worried suddenly that something was keeping her from climbing the stairs. Had she broken her leg too and nobody told him? Was that what the contraption was for, to help her walk? Panic filled his chest until he noted Richard’s smile. No, whatever it was would be for him. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth had known and chosen not to share it with him. Wouldn’t that be just like her, to surprise him like she had done with the peach?

  He couldn’t contain his smile as he donned a shirt his cousin tossed at him, the top half of a nightwear set his wife had stitched for him in the evenings. The bottom half, which he would particularly need for modesty, took considerable effort to pull over the splint. Having a panel in front and in back attached by three buttons each made them practical for a man in his position to wear. He secretly praised his bride for her thoughtfulness.

  Covering his new clothing with an old robe, he pulled himself to the chair as Richard held his right leg. Without a word, the four men grabbed the two chair legs on the side facing them—two hands on the bottom of the rung and two on the top, and slid the chair on the wooden floor until they could move to all four corners of the seat. When they started to pick him up, they found they needed one more person to hold his leg.

  “Elizabeth!” Richard bellowed from right next to Darcy’s ear. Within seconds, they heard her light footsteps on the stairs. Once she was in place, they lifted him and moved him, feet first, out the door, down the hallway and down the stairs. It was his first time out of his room since the accident and he gloried in seeing walls that were not the same ones he’d been staring at for what felt like forever.

  “Brother.” No, there was nothing broken with Georgiana. She was taller than he’d remembered and far more hale and hearty than the last time he had seen her—though she was still painfully reticent. Her heart had been broken and crushed by George Wickham, and Darcy hadn’t known how to handle a fifteen-year-old who erupted into tears from only a look.

  Had it really been a year already? Shame filled him from head to toe that he’d neglected his closest living relative for so long. The running of the ranch had been his only excuse and, looking at her hesitancy, he only now realized it was not a valid enough reason.

  He had expected her to at least embrace him, though carefully. Instead, she stood as still as a statue and stared at him.

  “Georgie, it is good to have you home.” He held out his hand as the men sat the chair on the floor. The crack in his heart, broke a little more as his sister’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Georgie?”

  “Hey, let’s get you settled in your new wheeled chair, cousin.” Richard slapped him on his uninjured shoulder. Darcy looked up at him in time to see his shrug. Apparently twelve months hadn’t made being around his sister any more comfortable for either man.

  Darcy finally looked to where his wife had moved. Next to her was a straight-backed chair sitting on two large wheels in the back and two smaller ones in the front. Crudely attached to the front was a shelf extending on the right side of the chair for him to rest his broken leg. There were handles on the back for someone to push him around, but he quickly realized he would be able to use his left leg to propel himself as well.

  Excitement at being able to control his movements somewhat had the palms of his hands sweating and his breathing shallow. Dan pushed the chair over to him and with an ease that surprised them all, he was situated. Elated, he smiled at everyone in the room. His sister still hadn’t looked back up at him. His victory felt hollow, leaving his insides quivering.

  “Thank you to those who brought this contraption from town and to those who hefted my carcass down those stairs.” He waited for the men to stop guffawing. “I believe the tides, which have always flowed steadily at Pemberley, will move even stronger with my ability to roam throughout the house. With that said, my greatest gift this day is to have my sister home where she belongs.”

  Maggie Reynolds, possibly carried away at the emotions emanating from her employer, applauded. The men and Elizabeth joined her. His sister turned tear-stained eyes to him, sobbed, and ran upstairs to her old room. The door slammed behind her.

  Darcy rubbed his hands over his face. What had caused Georgiana to react in that way? Was she unhappy to be home? Was she unhappy to be with her brother? Didn’t she like Elizabeth? Was she still upset over Wickham? He wondered if he would ever know.

  To his relief, Elizabeth’s voice broke into the tension of the room. “I’ve left a basket of fresh-picked peaches on the porch along with a pale of water and some towels for washing up. Please eat your fill, gentlemen, and I’ll see to fixing something to eat.”

  Elizabeth herded Dan, Melvin, and the foreman out the door and returned to grab Richard by his shirtsleeves to get him outside the house as well.

  “Me too?”

  Darcy wanted to laugh at the expression of disbelief on his cousin’s face, but the pain of rejection by his sister was too deep. Instead, he nodded his head to Richard, and the man, for once, complied with no argument.

  “Maggie, will you see to adding the vegetables to the stew?”

  At the woman’s nod, Elizabeth walked towards him until she stood directly in front of him. “I’ll make sure she is settled in.” She kept her voice soft.

  Gratitude filled his heart towards her. He nodded, no longer able to lift his head to look at Elizabeth. He felt like a sissy, like he was less than a man should be in not facing the hurt, in not demanding his sister be happy at coming back to Pemberley, in not asserting his authority in making her love and respect him.

  Lord, but he was a mess! Why would it be any different for his sister than it was his own wife? What had he done to earn her love and respect? Absolutely nothing. His own foolish belief that William Darcy, by the simple fact that he was a Darcy, deserved admiration was ridiculous. Hah! His pride, tasting like bile, rose inside him until it threatened to choke the life from him.

  “William, are you well?” Elizabeth put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I hardly know.” He was ashamed to admit it. He was the head of his household, yet he was powerless to take the lead with these two females. Huffing and puffing did nothing but make his wife respond like he was talking to a tree stump. Giving her the silent treatment did the same. He didn’t know what to do anymore, and it frightened him.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She was too quick to reassure him as she turned to go upstairs.

  “Of course you will.” The bitterness of his words tasted like metal in his mouth.

  “Well, I am sorry!” Elizabeth stepped further away from him as he watched her guard go up—a tall wall to keep out unwanted intruders.

  “No, please, I don’t want to fight.” As soon as he spoke the words, he comprehended the absolute truth of each syllable. He felt the need to purge his soul. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’m sorry you are having to carry so many burdens on your own. I’m sorry I waited so long to bring my sister home. I’m sorry that when I get upset I act like a…”

  “Donkey’s hind end?” she suggested with a small smile.

  He chortled. “Yes, a donkey’s hind end.”

  Her righteous indignation made her eyes shine and she was, to him, the most beautiful woman
he’d ever seen. Rather than rushing to change into her best clothing to greet her sister-in-law for the first time, she’d spent precious minutes with him feeding him that luscious peach. The memory stirred him, and he fought to regain control of his thinking.

  She inhaled slowly. “You will find that we set up a bed in your study last night. You will be able to eat, sleep, and bathe downstairs. While the men were helping you into the chair, Maggie and I moved the two small bookcases in the hallway so your path is cleared.”

  He saw her tilt her head to look closer at him, and he barely heard her words. Darcy watched her mouth move and thought he heard her add something about Georgiana. He nodded as she expected him to and then she left him on his own.

  Turning, he watched the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs. When she drew closer to the top, he spied her trim ankles where she lifted her skirt to clear each step. She was the best of women, and he could pound his head against the solid log wall that he hadn’t figured this out until now.

  He knew what would happen. His wife would kindly and tenderly tend to his sister until she became confident that this was where she was supposed to be. Looking around the living area, he saw evidences of small changes Elizabeth had made since her arrival: bright, patch-worked quilts padded the hard chairs, tables covered in yellows, whites, blues, and reds with matching curtains lightened the room where the sun shone through the butter-yellow fabric, and decorative pillows in the same palette strewn around the furniture. Vases of roses were on every table surface and white, crocheted ‘things” were underneath each vessel.