An Excerpt from Chapter 4 of Mr. Darcy’s Comfort
…“How is your heart?” Richard asked as Darcy threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“It aches a great deal more than the rest of me.”
“Will you sit watch?”
Darcy nodded. “I should like to. Will Aunt Catherine allow it? I am not female.”
“She has allowed Father, so I am certain she will allow you to take a turn as well.” Richard rang for Darcy’s man as Darcy made use of the chamber pot before finding his robe and taking a seat near the fire to enjoy another small amount of port. “However, you have been ill, and we would not wish for you to become so again, so your activity might be limited. Do not push yourself beyond what you are able.”
Darcy heard the worry that lay beneath the slightly severe tone Richard used. “I will do my best,” he agreed.
Richard smiled. “I shall see that you do.” He nodded to Darcy’s man and made his way to the door. “I shall see you in the breakfast room. You must eat.” He stood at the door and waited until Darcy had given his agreement that he would eat before leaving the room.
~*~*~
After having eaten, Darcy made his way to Anne’s small sitting room. He paused outside the door for a moment, blew out a breath, drew another, and though his heart would not remain beating at the pace he wished it would but instead insisted on increasing its rhythm, he stepped into the room. Anne lay peacefully at one end. She looked no less fragile in death than she had in life.
“Aunt Catherine,” he said softly. He knew that though Anne looked as if she were sleeping, she was not, but still, he kept his voice low as speaking any louder seemed wrong.
His aunt looked up from her work of tying black ribbons around small packages. “I have one for you, Darcy.” She searched her basket and pulled out a larger item. It was wrapped in lavender cloth and tied with the same black ribbon she was using on her current project. “I selected a few items for you that I know she cherished.” She held the gift out to him. “She is still beautiful, is she not?”
Darcy turned his head to look once again at Anne. “Yes,” he answered. Anne’s was not a classical beauty but one of delicacy like a fine piece of china. “I have come to spend some time with her.”
Lady Catherine rose from her chair. “You would have been good to her.” She placed a hand on his arm. “And she would have made you happy. I know it.”
Darcy smiled. “I believe you are right.”
She sighed loudly as if lifting some heavy object. “You shall never be my son.” She patted his arm. “It is a pity.”
“Indeed, it is,” Darcy agreed. It would not have been an easy task being her son, but he could have managed. “Mother would be disappointed, would she not?”
Lady Catherine patted his arm again and nodded. Her lips were firmly pressed together, and her eyes were watery. He knew she was not the sort of lady to allow her emotions to be aired before others. Therefore, he respectfully looked away.
“Mother has likely met her, and they are having tea while Mother shares stories about you.”
To his surprise, he found himself wrapped in his aunt’s arms. It was something that had not happened since just after his mother had died.
He squeezed her tightly. “I may never be your son, but I shall always care for you,” he whispered. “I promised Mother I would.”
“You are a good boy,” she replied. Then, she straightened herself, gathered her basket, and left him alone in the room.
Darcy walked over to where Anne lay and studied her face. “Your mother is going to miss you. She already does.”
He and Anne had spoken about how Lady Catherine would adjust to Anne’s being in Derbyshire after they married. They knew that, eventually, Lady Catherine would come to live with them. Darcy had planned to have Richard see to Rosings until it might be needed for a second son of his and Anne’s to manage it.
But now? He blew out a breath. Things were different now that Anne was gone. The fate of Rosings would lie in the hands of his uncle, Lord Matlock, according to the provision in Anne’s father’s will. However, there was time for all that to be decided.
“Your mother can still live with me if she so chooses,” he assured Anne. “I will not cast her aside unless she becomes too demanding. Then there is that cottage we had discussed as being perfect for her.” He smiled down at Anne. “What shall I do without you? I am not good at conversing with ladies. How shall I ever convince someone to take me on?”…
