Page 10 of Through the Eyes of Love

What was amiss in the others’ expressions and Mr. Pauling’s voice? The physician was not telling all to Darcy.

“I want to see my face.”

Mr. Pauling and Mrs. Reynolds exchanged troubled glances. Before either of them could object, Darcy shouted, “Get me a looking glass!”

Georgiana cowered in the corner, yet he could not control his fury.

Pauling brought the looking glass from the dressing table and handed it to him. “I must warn you; there is still a great deal of swelling and redness. Both will subside over time.”

Darcy did not reply and simply held out his hand. With a deep breath, he raised the mirror. He angled it to the right side of his face and touched his unshaven but smooth right cheek. When he turned his head, the severity of his burns became evident. Good G-d! How could he allow other people to see himwhen he was so grotesque? Rage at his condition built up within him, and he threw the looking glass against the wall. Everyone in the room cringed as they watched it shatter.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Pauling. From what I have just seen, I am more certain than ever you should have let me die.”

Enfolded in Mrs. Reynolds’s arms, Georgiana tearfully whispered, “No, no, he cannot mean that.”

The physician said, “Fortunately, you did not lose your eye.”

“Yes, thatisgood news.” Darcy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I could have been left incapacitated, disfigured,andblind.” His frustration mounted until he could no longer withstand it. No one said a word until he shouted, “All of you—get out!”

Mrs. Reynolds said, “I shall be right outside if you need anything.”

“Goodbye, Fitzwilliam. I shall come back soon,” said his sister from her position near the doorway. Was she afraid to come near him? He did not respond, and she wept as she stepped into the warm embrace of Mrs. Annesley, her companion, before they quit the room.

Should he try to recover and rebuild Pemberley? His fatigue overcame his questioning mind, and he was soon asleep.

* * *

Several dayslater

The sheets were drawn back up over Darcy after Pauling had examined him, and the physician smiled. “You are recovering well, and I have been able to remove the splints from your thigh. The bandages will ensure your leg continues to heal. Sir, you are well enough to go home.”

“Home? What home? Pemberley is in ruins! Ihaveno place to go!” He was unable to keep his voice below a shout. Was Pauling insane? His home was gone!

Mrs. Reynolds stepped closer. “Since the fire, Pembrook Cottage has been prepared for your return. You will be comfortable there and close enough to supervise the rebuilding of the manor house. Mr. Pauling returns to London tomorrow, but Kenton and I shall continue your care.”

Darcy made no reply. What could he say that would make any difference? He would never have the strength nor desire to rebuild his home.

One month after the fire destroyed his ancestral home, he was transported with care to the cottage, and two footmen helped him up the stairs. When they reached the first floor, he cried out. Oh, how he hated to appear so weak, but searing leg pain prevented him from walking the few steps to his chambers. The servants continued to carry him to his bed. What kind of a man was he? Did he haveanypride left?

From the moment he was installed in his room, he refused to see anyone. Even Mrs. Reynolds, who had known him since he was a child, found him challenging to live with. Household servants were not allowed to see his face, and if someone dared enter his chambers, a book or another nearby object was thrown towards the door. Darcy could not abide anyone seeing him like this.

Shortly after her brother was moved to the cottage, Georgiana came to visit. This brought up his ire—why had Mrs. Reynolds ignored his demand to turn all and sundry away? Nothing annoyed him more than her defying his explicit instructions becauseshehad some idea that it was good for him. Before his sister was shown upstairs, his pride was once again injured by having to put up with two footmen helping him enter the sitting room adjoining his chamber. How he dreaded lettinghis sister witness his inability to walk on his own! Throughout their conversation, he was intentionally unsympathetic about her own sorrow at the loss of their home. She had no right to attempt to use him as a way to express her woe! Had she no idea of his sensibilities?

“I want to help you,” she said with tears in her eyes. “There is a bed chamber for me here at the cottage, and I wish to stay and be close by to assist in your recovery.”

He turned his gaze away from her. “That will not be necessary. I am being cared for and would never condemn you to a life with a disfigured brother.”

“That is not how I see it. I would be caring for the person I love more than anyone else in the world.”

“No, Georgiana.” Darcy was insistent. “Go back to Oakmont Hall and stay with the Matlocks until they leave for town. Enjoy your life; you never know wheneverythingwill be taken from you.”

“Brother, you have yourlife,and your leg and face will heal. Our home may be gone, but all can be rebuilt.”

“I do not foresee that happening.” His only desire was to be left alone. After exchanging a few more words, she discontinued her pleas. It was for the best.

Darcy was not about to change his mind. His sister took his advice and stayed with Lord and Lady Matlock until they decamped to London. The decision was a relief to him.

* * *