IGNORING THE PRESENCE of his footman, Darcy steered Elizabeth through the crowded courtyard, opening the carriage door and handing her inside.
“A moment, Miss Bennet,” he murmured, before retreating to converse with his driver and footman several yards away.
Inside the coach, Elizabeth slid across the thickly padded seat. On the opposite side of the glass, scattered snowflakes continued to swirl, but it was not the weather that held her attention. Her eyes remained fixed upon Mr. Darcy and a strange sensation settled in her stomach.
Hastily she lowered her gaze. It would not do to be caught staring! Seeking a distraction, Elizabeth turned to survey the spacious compartment. Much as she would have expected, Mr. Darcy’s coach was comfortable and well-appointed, but neither was it gaudy nor overly ostentatious. Thankfully, it bore no resemblance to the barouche-landau that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had condescended to send them home in when the party from the parsonage had dined at Rosings and a sudden rainstorm had prevented them from returning on foot. On that occasion, Mr. Collins had been so overcome with her ladyship’s generosity, as well as the elegance of the equipage, he had scarcely been able to contain his effusions. But for Elizabeth’s part, the vivid red upholstery and gilded interior had been enough to bring on a headache. Looking around now at the deep-green cushions and gleaming wood paneling of Mr. Darcy’s carriage, Elizabeth noted that it was much like the gentleman himself—stately, yet unassuming—and she felt herself begin to relax.
A noise outside pulled Elizabeth from her thoughts and she turned to see Mr. Darcy entering the coach. Tucking his tall frame into the rear-facing seat he allowed the footman to latch the door before removing his hat and reaching up to brush a dusting of snow from his shoulders. An unexpected warmth spread through Elizabeth’s body and she quickly looked away. Through the glass, she watched the coachman approach the box, and for the first time it occurred to her to wonder how Mr. Darcy had explained her presence to his attendants. Did they think it odd that he had entered the inn alone and returned with an unaccompanied young lady? Her cheeks grew hot at the thought. Perhaps she had been too hasty in refusing the gentleman’s offer to procure one of the Bell’s maids… But before she could dwell any further on the subject, her companion rapped upon the roof, and the carriage lurched forward, causing Elizabeth to release a breath. Well, she would simply have to make the best of things. It was only a few hours, after all.
***
Darcy sat with his right side pressed against the carriage door, his entire body stiff with tension. How he was going to make it through the next few hours, he could not possibly imagine. Turning away, he drew a shallow breath and his pulse quickened. In the tight confines of the coach, Elizabeth’s scent enveloped him—a mixture of wildflowers and citrus, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Closing his eyes, he stifled a groan. God help him, he was still in love with her. Despite his initial ire, the passage of time had done nothing to alter this simple fact, nor had it served to diminish the power she held over him. If she only knew… If she only knew, she would laugh herself silly. What kind of besotted fool persisted in loving a woman who had made it abundantly clear she detested the very sight of him?
As if to emphasize his thoughts, Elizabeth released an uneven sigh and Darcy winced at the sound. Devil take it! He should never have insisted she accompany him. Having her in such close proximity now that he knew her true feelings was the worst type of torment.
Against his better judgment, he shifted his gaze, and the air seemed to leave his body. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Out of the corner of his vision, he studied her, instantly drawn by her magnificent eyes. When he had first made her acquaintance, he believed them to be brown, but in reality, they were a deep hazel-green, with flecks of amber radiating outwards from the pupils. When she was angry, they seemed to darken, but here in the mid-day light, they sparkled like cut crystal. He knew he should look away, but it was impossible. Instead, his head swiveled in her direction and he drank her in—like a drowning man granted a breath of air after too long beneath the surface of the sea.
A handful of hours. That was all he had before she would be gone from his life forever.
***
Elizabeth turned away from the snow-flecked glass. Across the carriage, Mr. Darcy was staring at her, his expression rigid. Likely already regretting his decision to have me accompany him, she thought ruefully. At first, he did not appear to notice her returning his gaze, but after a moment his eyes refocused and the intensity reflected in his expression caused Elizabeth to shiver.
Darcy blinked. “Miss Bennet, I beg your pardon. You are cold. Here… there are some rugs beneath the seat.”
Without waiting for an answer, he removed a thick blanket, reaching to tuck the soft fabric around her legs before withdrawing to his own corner of the compartment.
Elizabeth murmured her thanks, but quickly looked away. Outside, an icy snow continued to pummel the carriage as her own words echoed mercilessly inside her head.
From the very beginning of my acquaintance with you… your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, were such as to form… an immoveable dislike…
Elizabeth cringed. Of course, she was aware of her quick temper—goodness knows her mother had criticized her for it often enough. But Elizabeth had always considered herself to be fair, and above all, kind. Yet, when it came to Mr. Darcy, she had jumped to conclusions without possession of the facts, and in so doing had caused the gentleman who sat across from her the worst sort of pain. A gentleman who, Elizabeth now suspected, rarely made his true feelings known to anyone, had bared his heart, and she had trampled on it in the most callous manner. What did it cost this man to set aside his pride and wounded feelings? To offer his assistance now, after the way she had treated him? For while it was true that his proposal had been insolent and offensive, her response had been spiteful and cruel—and this she could not condone.
Straightening her shoulders, Elizabeth turned away from the door.
“Mr. Darcy, I hope you will forgive me, but I am a selfish creature, and therefore unable to continue further without apologizing to you for the uncivil words I spoke… when last we met. I have regretted my behavior for many months. In truth, I cannot think of it without mortification.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, an intense flush colored Darcy’s cheeks. He lowered his gaze before meeting her eyes with a serious expression. “Miss Bennet, I am the one who is to be sorry. My manner of address on that occasion was inexcusable. You had every right to speak to me as you did.”
“I am afraid I cannot agree with you, sir, but I thank you for saying so.” After a moment she added, “Since reading your letter, I have been ashamed of holding Mr. Wickham in such high regard. I was taken in by his empty flattery and was quick to judge a situation about which I was woefully ill-informed. I deeply regret any pain I may have caused you by defending him.”
Darcy grimaced. “I fear, again, I owe you an apology, Miss Bennet. It was wrong of me to present you with such a letter. At the time, I was not even certain you would read it. In truth, I have often hoped that you did not.”
“I was not certain myself when you handed it to me,” Elizabeth answered. “I was still very angry.”
“And, may I ask… did you read the letter in its entirety?”
At Elizabeth’s nod, Darcy looked away. “Then again, I must beg your pardon. I do not remember all that I wrote, but I know I dwelt on things that should not have been said once, let alone repeated. The only part of that letter about which I feel no remorse is the accounting of my dealings with Mr. Wickham. I believed it essential that you were acquainted with the truth about that gentleman, not only to absolve my own conduct, but so you might guard yourself against him.”
Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head. “I was very foolish, about so many things. I wanted to believe Mr. Wickham because he flattered my vanity. My judgment was faulty in every particular and I am glad to have an opportunity to acknowledge it. I had hoped to do so months ago, at my sister’s wedding, but you were not in attendance.”
Upon uttering this last, she regarded him curiously, and Darcy flinched. “Yes, I… Unfortunately, estate business made it impossible for me to travel at that time.”
They continued in silence for several minutes before Darcy leaned forward, saying softly, “You must not blame yourself for anything to do with Wickham, Miss Bennet. The man is a practiced deceiver. A great number of discerning people have been taken in by him.”
“That is kind of you to say, sir. In truth, after reading your letter I dreaded coming into contact with Mr. Wickham again, and had resolved to avoid him as long as possible. However, soon after my return to Longbourn, the militia removed to Brighton, and not long after that we received word that Mr. Wickham had gone missing from his unit. To my knowledge, he has not been seen since.”
Across the carriage, Darcy tensed. “Oh?”
Elizabeth waited for him to continue, but when he remained silent she said, “There was some talk of Mr. Wickham owing debts to many of the local shopkeepers, but after the gentleman’s disappearance, they were mysteriously paid by an anonymous benefactor.”
In truth, the report circulating was that it had been Mr. Darcy who had paid off Wickham’s debts, but of course Elizabeth did not say so. Though if his reaction to her inquiries was any indication, she was inclined to agree with the rumors.
Darcy frowned. “Mr. Wickham is a clever man. He generally manages to find others to do his bidding. I am only sorry that my own negligence enabled him to take advantage of the good people of Meryton in the first place.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth answered quietly, “Mr. Wickham is not your responsibility. In any case, I ceased thinking about him long ago and would prefer to put the entire business behind us. Perhaps we can agree to a new beginning?”
Darcy’s eyes widened and a small smile lifted his cheeks. “I would like that, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth returned his smile but their dialogue lapsed, each of them at a loss as to how to navigate this new and unexpected truce. The rattle of the carriage mingled with the steady beat of the horse’s hooves, filling the air left empty of speech.
“Miss Bennet, pray, do not feel it necessary to keep up a conversation. You are more than welcome to rest, or read if you like. I have several volumes here, if any would be of interest?” Altering his position, Darcy reached down, extracting a stack of books from a basket underneath the seat and offering them up for Elizabeth’s inspection. To her surprise, the titles varied to include a history of the Roman Empire, a book on animal husbandry, and a fat tome entitled Letters from an American Farmer.
Studying the spines over Elizabeth’s shoulder, Darcy’s complexion heightened. “Forgive me, it has been a while since I replenished the collection. I thought there might be some poetry…” he began to root through the basket, but Elizabeth laughed, relaxing into her seat.
“Do not concern yourself. As it happens I enjoy many types of books, and would not hesitate to pick up any of those titles, however, as I am known to be a great reader, you must realize that I would never travel without something of my own.” Turning to her open satchel, she produced a worn leather volume and Darcy leaned forward.
“Gulliver’s Travels?”
Studying his expression, Elizabeth nodded. “As you see. Have you read it?”
“Of course.”
“But you are surprised that I should be reading it.” It was a statement and not a question.
“No. I….”
“What were you expecting, Mr. Darcy? Clarissa? Or perhaps The Romance of the Forest?”
Darcy instantly colored and Elizabeth laughed again. “Very well, if I am honest, I enjoyed both those novels. As I said, I take pleasure in many types of books.”
“Do your sisters like to read as much as you do?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Jane enjoys gothic novels and some poetry. My sister Mary prefers scripture. But my two youngest sisters do not read at all.”
“That is a shame.” Darcy paused. “And how do you find Swift’s work?”
“Oh, I like it very well. I have read this particular volume before, but I am finding new meaning upon a second examination.”
Darcy studied her for several moments before asking if she made a habit of reading books more than once and was rewarded with a look of genuine astonishment.
“Of course! I believe it takes several readings to fully comprehend the nuances of any book. And when I am traveling, I always bring along an old favorite as opposed to something new. I find it comforting, even if it does severely hinder my progress.”
Darcy angled his head and Elizabeth continued, “You see, many years ago, I set the goal of reading every book in Papa’s library before I was…” Elizabeth flushed. “That is, before I left Longbourn. At the time, it did not seem like an insurmountable task, but my father has continued to add to his collection, so I now find myself woefully behind.”
Darcy appeared to be holding back a laugh. “That is indeed a lofty objective.”
“You needn’t be alarmed, Mr. Darcy. Papa’s library is nothing to Pemberley’s, I am sure. But then there are quite a few volumes in French and Latin, and I find my language skills have not been up to the challenge.”
Darcy did laugh then, leaning back against the squabs and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “And which have been your favorites?”
“Oh, dear! That is like asking a mother to choose her favorite child. However, if pressed, I am quite fond of Shakespeare, particularly his comedies, and I have enjoyed Defoe’s work a great deal.” After a moment she added, “Tom Jones has been a recent favorite.” She cocked her head, waiting for Mr. Darcy’s censure, but he only looked back at her curiously and so Elizabeth continued, “I know it is not Plato, but as I believe I have mentioned, I do dearly love to laugh.”
“Have you read Plato, then, Miss Bennet?”
“Certainly, sir. The Republic is one of my father’s favorite texts. I was practically raised on it.”
Darcy opened his mouth to answer, but a loud crack caused them both to start. The carriage slid sideways and Elizabeth gasped. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Mr. Darcy threw himself across the compartment, grabbing her roughly by the arms and pulling her away from the door. The ground beneath them gave way and the carriage tilted, crashing onto its side and rolling them over. Elizabeth’s head hit the ceiling, and a scream tore from her throat.
And then there was nothing.