Kara Louise - Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

When she inquired about the condition of the tenants’ homes, they told her that one home was in imminent danger of being flooded, but the men had been working tenaciously to divert the waters by digging trenches and building up barricades with mud and trees, which they hoped would hold as the waters approached. She also found out that the man who they presumed had been swept away was found unharmed.

When the doctor finally arrived, he ordered everyone out of the room except, of course, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth walked to the door, and just as she was about to step out, she heard the familiar sound of Mr. Darcy’s voice call out her name.

“Miss Bennet,” he said softly.

She turned toward him. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” he told her. “I could not have done it without you.”

She smiled in acknowledgement of his words and walked out. For the first time since arriving here, she thought their day of departure would come too quickly.

It had been two days since the families had sought refuge at Pemberley, and the rains finally let up, the sun making a most welcomed appearance. Everyone was delighted that the prospect of returning home was near, but they would need to wait until the waters of the river receded a great deal before it was deemed safe enough.

Mr. Hamilton remained in his room, healing nicely from his wounds. Everyone had been told he was merely not feeling well, but it was expected that he would be recovered soon. As Mr. Darcy had first relayed this news at the breakfast table the day following the accident, he stole a knowing glance at Elizabeth. She returned a sly smile at his pretence of an excuse for his cousin’s absence.

That afternoon, as the sun poured its rays through the windows, Elizabeth felt a gaiety and a joy that she had not felt in quite a few days. Each time she passed a window, she gazed out, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, and eagerly anticipated exploring Pemberley’s magnificent grounds. They had less than a week remaining, and while she knew practically every inch of Pemberley’s house, save for one very private hall, she still wished to explore the splendid grounds.

That day while Emily napped, Elizabeth made her daily visit to the families in the north wing. As she opened the doors to the wing, she stepped through and found everyone hustling about. There was much excitement.

It was joyous confusion, and someone mentioned to her that they had just received word they would likely be able to return to their homes tomorrow afternoon. Before she could even utter a word expressing her delight, she heard a shriek, and the sound of little footsteps racing down the hall captured Elizabeth’s attention.

It was Rachel, and just as the little girl was about to collide into her, Elizabeth reached down and lovingly grasped her shoulders. “What is it, little one?” she asked.

“Look out!” she squealed. “There goes Misty!”

Elizabeth turned around abruptly, seeing the grey cat slither out the door through which she just entered. “Wait here, Rachel. I will go after her!”

Elizabeth stepped out the door and closed it behind her before moving into the hall. She turned, hoping to see where the cat went. She looked across the hall that led to the playroom and saw nothing. She turned her eyes down the main hall to her left. She caught a brief glimpse of Misty scampering around the far corner. Elizabeth walked as quickly as she could, calling the cat’s name. When she came to the corner, she turned and again looked around. Her heart pounded as she considered that the cat may have gone into any room, which would certainly cause more than a little disruption.

A slight movement caught her attention, and she looked up to see Misty going up the stairs. “Oh, no!” Elizabeth said softly and let out a frustrated sigh. She saw no one to ask for help, so she kept following the cat, calling her name softly.

“Misty, here, kitty! Here, kitty!” The cat stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down as if to see whether she was still being followed. Elizabeth stopped her movement and gently called her. “Come here, Misty.” Leaning over, she held out her hand, as if fingering some delectable morsel. Misty looked at her for a brief moment, and then turned and ran off again. She watched in dismay as the cat disappeared around the corner that led to Mr. Darcy’s private chambers.

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth’s eyes widened as her heart pounded mercilessly.

When Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs, she was out of breath and quite distressed. She knew Mrs. Reynolds would not be happy about a cat loose in the house. She also knew that venturing down this hall was completely forbidden to her. She stood at the corner of the hall looking down and debated what she ought to do.

When she spied Misty lying casually under a small table in the hallway, Elizabeth made a quick decision. She believed that she could easily catch the cat now if she approached her very calmly. At least all the doors along the hall were closed, and the worst that could happen was that the cat would run all the way to the end of the hall. Or… that someone would come up and find her here.

Her heart reminded her with every beat that she should stop and turn around. She deemed it prudent to call out for someone, just to alert anyone that might be up here that she needed help. “Hello? Is anyone here? Come here, Misty. Come here, kitty. Anyone?”

She walked slowly toward the cat, bending low and holding out her hand. How she wished she had thought to obtain a morsel of meat to entice the cat! “Here, Misty! Come to me!”

The cat eyed her from its reclined position, but Elizabeth could see by the look in Misty’s eyes that if she felt threatened at all, she would be up and gone in an instant. Elizabeth paused, making an attempt to soothe and reassure the cat. “Misty, I mean you no harm. Please, allow me to come pick you up! You… we… do not belong here!”

The sound of a door opening just opposite her caused her to scramble to her feet. Her face whitened in dismay as she found herself staring into the face of Mr. Darcy. His hair was wet and dishevelled and his shirttails were loose. Her face displayed her great sense of mortification, as his exhibited surprise. “Miss Bennet?”

“Please forgive me, Mr. Darcy. You must wonder… allow me to explain… you see…”

At that moment, Misty, startled by the opening door and Mr. Darcy’s presence, darted for the open door in which he stood. Both pairs of eyes widened as the cat rushed past Mr. Darcy, who made a futile attempt to snatch her up. In a shaky voice, Elizabeth blurted out, “Misty escaped from the north wing, and I was trying to retrieve her.”

Darcy turned to look into the room for the cat and then back at Elizabeth. He shook his head, the beginning of a smile slightly curving his lips. “Wait here. I believe she ran under the bed.”

He walked back in, calling the cat.

Elizabeth hesitantly took some steps toward the room, letting her gaze take in its beauty. With each step she took closer, she was able to see more and more. It was a massive room with a definite masculine look. Two large windows were framed with dark green window coverings. It reminded her of the dark green of Pemberley’s woods. She could see a plush chair in the corner of the room and a large bed covered with an intricately designed quilt in the same dark green, accented with navy blue, burgundy, and a milky white. Heavy wood furniture dotted the room, but did not overwhelm it.

She was no longer able to see Darcy but could hear him trying to coax the cat out from under his bed. She assumed he was on the other side on the floor. She stifled a nervous laugh that threatened to burst from her as she waited for him to rescue the cat—again.

At length, when he did not seem to have as much luck as he had getting her down from the tree, Elizabeth decided she had best leave before anyone came. He could always bring Misty downstairs once he retrieved her. Elizabeth was just about to suggest that when he stood up with cat in hand. As he turned and saw her at the door, he stopped and took in a sharp breath. His eyes darkened and did not leave her face.

He held Misty close to him, scratching the cat’s head as he slowly began to walk toward Elizabeth. He stopped when he was standing in front of her just inside the room. He said nothing.

Elizabeth could not determine from his demeanour whether or not he was angry with her for coming to this part of the house or angry at the cat, but his silence unnerved her. She took a very small step forward and, with every attempt at keeping her voice calm, said, “I will take her down.”

As Darcy stepped forward to bridge the final distance between them and handed the cat to her, he said in an uneven voice, “Miss Bennet, we must talk.”

As she wrapped her arms around Misty, she felt the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms. She knew she should not look up at him, for he would certainly see the strength of feeling she now had for him. But she could not help it and soon found herself gazing up into his face.

“Yes,” she said barely above a whisper, both their arms still wrapped around the cat. A noise at the end of the hall prompted Elizabeth to continue. “But not now… not here.” Her voice shook.

“No, not here,” he concurred, his voice gravelly. Reluctantly he pulled his arms from between her and the cat. “But soon.”

“Yes, soon,” Elizabeth answered, willing herself to turn her eyes from his.

“It would be best if you left before someone sees you and makes a wrong assumption.”