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“Ah! I have them!” said Richard, replacing the springs in the machine with the more heavy-duty pair and working the paddles.

“An improvement, but they could be stiffer yet. Moreover, it would be better if I could exercise my upper body. That’s where I need it the most. Boxing is pretty good, but it’s damn hard on the knuckles.”

“That is what the original machine did, numbskull! That is why it’s called a rowing machine!”

“Ah! Do you think I could get one?” asked the colonel as Finn stuck his head into the room.

Having heard the creaking of the machine, Finn had been ready to reprimand Darcy for exceeding the doctor’s recommendations. When he saw it was the colonel in the contraption and not his master, he bit his lip and retreated.

The cousins’ conversation continued for some time, as Richard paddled while leisurely sipping on his brandy. After he had refilled the snifter twice from the decanter he had placed on the floor conveniently within arm’s reach, Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled out his pocket watch.

“I’d better get back to the barracks. I’ve got another parade at dawn.”

Darcy sighed, feeling his isolation now that his beautiful lectrice was gone. He wondered how long it would be before he could finally wed Elizabeth. “Are you any closer to finding Robert?”

“A lot closer, I think. I hired the runners the other day. Short of leaving the country he cannot escape now.”

And with that kernel of hope, Richard departed, leaving his cousin to the company of his valet.

As Darcy settled down in bed, he tried to think how best to approach his uncle Geoffrey, but his body ached from the exercise he had been doing while his mind was determinedly fixed on Elizabeth. It had been frustrating to be so close to Elizabeth at the Gardiners’ and yet be so far from her. Then, just when she had accepted his proposal, and he’d had some hope of legitimately spending some time with her, his doctor had deemed him well enough to depart. Given the embarrassing way he had imposed on the Gardiners, Darcy felt he could not linger in Gracechurch Street. Despite his cramped quarters shared with his valet, Darcy had been loath to depart his cocoon of lavender and musk.

Now, all he could do was think longingly of the time when he would have Elizabeth beside him, smell that delicious scent by burying his nose in her hair, brush his lips to her neck. It seemed too far off. How would he spend his waking hours without her? Hours of loneliness stretched ahead of him.

He also dwelt on the unsatisfactory nature of their courtship. Despite his heroic effort to venture to Cheapside to apologise to Elizabeth, his advent there had hardly been romantic. His lips twisted into a wry smile. Well, I suppose I did throw myself at her feet... or, at least, at Mr Gardiner’s.

Darcy then set to thinking how he might make himself pleasing to Elizabeth during their betrothal. Sighing, he finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 42: Roses and thorns

Following her employment with Mr Darcy and the excitement of his unexpected visit, life at Gracechurch Street seemed remarkably humdrum to Lizzy after his departure. Even the Gardiner children’s shouts as they played handball in the street could not excite her, though she had been known to challenge the older boys to the occasional game.

After her uncle had left for his warehouse, the time came when the Darcy carriage usually arrived to pick her up. As she sat eating a late breakfast with her aunt, each passing carriage made Elizabeth look up. Of course, none were the elegant Darcy chaise but more the workaday vehicles that typically frequented the street. When there was a knock at the door, Lizzy positively started. Thinking it likely that her husband had sent Mick back, having forgotten something, Mrs Gardiner finished pouring the tea and was about to check if the footman needed help to search for the required item when the parlour door opened to admit Sally, carrying a huge bunch of roses.

“For Miss Elizabeth, ma’am,” said the maid, presenting the bouquet to Lizzy.

Accepting the flowers with some astonishment, Elizabeth saw the note tucked in the blooms. After admiring the Darcy seal, she opened it to reveal a message written neatly in pencil, sloping a little across the page: “To my dearest Elizabeth, I hope that you will be able to visit soon in Mayfair. I miss your reading already, Love Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth looked up to find Sally beaming upon her with rosy cheeks.

“Thank you, Sally,” said Mrs Gardiner, “Would you mind fetching a vase and the shears?”

With the requested items only her secondary mission, Sally went off to the kitchens to impart the latest news of Miss Elizabeth’s handsome and rich beau. In a servant’s eyes, blindness and lack of mobility could not be thought such great handicaps.

Mrs Gardiner offered her niece a pikelet from a plate. “Well, my dear, this is a nice start to your betrothal. I must say I was a little concerned about the circumstances of Mr Darcy’s proposal. I was worried that your uncle’s indignation had forced you both to come to a decision before you were ready.”

Lizzy had a little trouble understanding this. “Before we were both ready, Aunt?”

“Well, Lizzy, since he went to such exertion and came so well prepared, I understand that Mr Darcy must have come here with the sole purpose of fixing his interest with you, but I must question his motives in doing so. I thought your acquaintance with him in Hertfordshire was of the slightest, and your mother’s attempts to get him to marry you after your accident at the ball rather a long shot. Based on their initial interview in Mayfair before Mr Darcy went to the Continent, your uncle thought we would be very lucky to get any money from him in compensation at all. Then you work for him for a week and he proposes. Forgive me; I don’t wish to imply that you are not a very eligible catch for any gentleman—any man in his right mind would know you for a treasure—but Mr Darcy’s sudden change of attitude worries me. I cannot help thinking that it has been brought on by his reduced circumstances. It must certainly be a terrible thing for a hale and hearty man in his prime to be stricken so.”

“Yes, Aunt, I believe it has affected his spirits greatly. But I thought you would be glad of his proposal and my accepting it. Surely it is necessary and desirable for us to marry for so many reasons?”

“Perhaps not so many anymore than there once were. Now that Mary is to wed, and Mr Elliot has offered a home to your mother and sisters, their situation will be comfortable; and as you and your sisters are to leave Hertfordshire, the gossip, while unfortunate, can no longer be the great threat to your reputations that it once was. I would not wish to see you unhappy, my dear. We would be more than pleased if you and Jane were to stay here with us. You would not have Mr Darcy’s riches, but you would certainly not lack for anything. Consider carefully if this marriage is what you really want.”

Stunned by this unexpected attack on her alliance, Lizzy replied cautiously. “I am not sure, Aunt. Discovering that Mr Darcy wants to wed me was so unexpected, like a fairy tale. Perhaps I have been swept up with it. I was never remotely interested in men until he came along. They are generally so stupid...”

“Dear, dear, Lizzy! It would seem you have inherited more than a touch of your father’s arrogance! What do you mean men are stupid? I assure you there is plenty of evidence to the contrary!”

“Well, aside from Mr Darcy, I cannot think of any smart men at all! Mr Bingley was not even that bright, despite the fact that he had been to university.”