ELIZABETH TRUDGED THROUGH the driving snow, the sharp wind biting at her neck and cheeks. They had been walking for less than a quarter of an hour, but her boots were already soaked through and she could no longer feel her feet. Every now and then she glanced up at Mr. Darcy, but his eyes remained tightly shut, his expression wooden. She was about to ask the footman how much farther they had to go, when she spotted a squat cottage nestled amongst the trees. Her gaze lifted to the thatched roof. No smoke rose from the stone chimney.
The party drew to a halt and Darcy opened his eyes. The footman approached the door, rapping loudly on the rough wood. Elizabeth stepped up to the front window, but the glass was shuttered from the inside.
From behind her, Mr. Darcy barked out instructions.
“Thomas, go around the back. If the door is locked, break a window.”
Elizabeth shivered, for once not put off by Mr. Darcy’s domineering manners. Surely whoever owned the cottage would understand their need to take shelter. The sound of breaking glass cut through the gloomy silence and moments later the latch was lifted and the door pulled open.
***
Darcy shifted on the horse’s back, turning to face the entrance to the modest dwelling.
“It appears to be unoccupied, sir.”
“That is not surprising. Given where it is situated, this is most likely a hunting retreat.”
The footman moved to help Darcy dismount, half carrying him across the threshold and settling him into one of the wing-backed chairs facing the hearth.
Pulling in a shallow breath, Darcy allowed his head to collapse against the back of his seat. Staggering pain assaulted him from all directions. It took every ounce of strength to keep from calling out. Lifting his gaze, he turned his attention to where Elizabeth stood, just inside the door. In the low light, her narrow shoulders trembled, and her breath made soft white puffs in the icy air.
Darcy’s jaw tightened as he moved to face his footman. “Thomas, see if there is any dry wood. We need to get a fire going at once.” Looking back at Elizabeth he added, “Miss Bennet, you must remove that wet cloak. You will become ill.”
His voice seemed to snap Elizabeth out of her lethargy and she moved further into the room.
“I thank you, sir, but I will assist with the fire first.”
“There is no need. Thomas is more than capable.”
“I have no doubt of that, Mr. Darcy, but with two of us working, we can accomplish the task that much faster.”
Darcy released a slow breath, wincing at the pain that seared his ribs. “Very well. But let my man handle the fire. Perhaps you might attempt to locate some candles? It is already growing dark.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again. Nodding her acceptance, she quit the room, returning a short time later with two long tapers. Setting them upon the mantle, Darcy watched as she shrugged out of her wet pelisse.
“Miss Bennet, come and warm yourself,” he said, indicating the small blaze that Thomas had just started in the stone hearth. “You must be frozen.”
Elizabeth approached the fire and the footman turned to face his employer.
“Sir, if I may, I think it would be best for me to ride to Bromley. You require a physician, and if I leave now, I believe I can still make it by nightfall.”
Darcy tensed. He had already lost one man under his protection today. He would not risk another. “No. I will not have you out in this weather. We will all wait here until morning.”
Thomas was silent, but his lips turned down at the corners.
From her seat by the hearth, Elizabeth cleared her voice. “Thomas, would you be so good as to start a fire in the kitchen? I saw a tea caddy when I went in search of the candles. I believe we could all use some refreshment.”
The footman readily agreed, withdrawing from the room, and Elizabeth slid to the edge of her chair. “Mr. Darcy, forgive me, but you do not look well. Now that we have taken shelter, I believe we should examine your injuries.” Pulling up a footstool, she inclined her head in the direction of his injured leg. “May I?”
Darcy startled but after a moment nodded his agreement and Elizabeth carefully lifted his ankle. White-hot fire shot up his leg, and Darcy’s grip tightened on the arms of his chair.
“Where is the pain?”
“Just above the ankle,” he hissed, and Elizabeth nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I believe we must remove the boot, but I do not wish to pull on it.”
Steeling himself against the pain he knew would follow, Darcy reached inside his coat, removing a small penknife. Elizabeth accepted it, opening the blade. Their eyes met before she turned her attention to his black Hessians. Darcy remained silent while Elizabeth worked, but after a few moments he was unable to prevent the muted groan that slipped from his throat.
Elizabeth looked up. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I know this must hurt, but I can see the leg is already swelling. We must get the boot off while we still can.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Darcy gave a short nod, and Elizabeth returned to her task. Eventually she had made a rough slit in the soft leather. Setting aside the knife, she cautiously tugged at his heel.
The resulting gasp caused her to jerk back in alarm, looking away as Darcy swore under his breath.
Snatching up the flask, Darcy removed the stopper, taking several rapid swallows. When the pain finally receded enough for him to speak, he glanced in Elizabeth’s direction. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I am afraid I will not be able to remain silent. It would be best if you removed the boot as quickly as possible.”
Elizabeth nodded. Once again, she lifted his foot, yanking backwards with such force she soon found herself on the hearth rug, the boot still clasped tightly in her hands.
Darcy let out an anguished cry, and seconds later Thomas arrived at a run from the other room.
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet as Darcy turned to face his man, assuring him through clenched teeth that all was well. The footman surveyed the scene before offering a bow and retreating to the corridor.
Setting aside the boot, Elizabeth placed her hands on Darcy’s leg, gingerly exploring the firm muscles of his calf through his fine wool trousers. “I do not feel anything, and there is no blood. But I believe it would be best to view the injury to be certain.” As soon as she said the words, Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed scarlet and she quickly stood. “I will fetch Thomas. I am certain you would feel more comfortable with your manservant attending you from this point forward.” She turned to go, but Darcy captured her hand, surprising them both.
“Miss Bennet, I am not opposed to you continuing, if it does not make you too uneasy?”
Elizabeth swallowed. “No, not at all.” Taking a breath, she knelt once again beside the footstool, pulling the fabric of Darcy’s expertly-tailored trousers away from his ankle and retrieving the penknife. It took only a few moments to open the seam up to his knee.
Peeling back the fabric, Elizabeth’s eyes skimmed the exposed flesh, and Darcy wondered if she would now give up and fetch his footman. But a moment later he felt the gentle press of her fingers against his bare skin, and a moan rumbled in his throat.
Elizabeth’s eyes lifted. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. The leg is almost certainly broken, but the bone is not protruding—which is good. But I would agree that the sooner it can be set by a physician, the better.”
Darcy nodded numbly, grateful that Elizabeth had misinterpreted his reaction. In truth, while his leg burned like the very devil, Elizabeth’s delicate fingers caressing his skin had given rise to an entirely different sensation. He forced his attention away from such thoughts.
From the doorway, Thomas coughed into his fist, causing both Darcy and Elizabeth to jump. Neither of them had noticed his return.
“Sir, I think it would be best if I went for assistance. If I can make it to the inn tonight, I can have a physician here at first light. Besides, there is nowhere to shelter the horse, and I do not like the idea of leaving him outside in this weather.”
“Mr. Darcy, I would have to agree. You need medical attention as soon as possible. It would not be wise to delay.” Elizabeth’s eyes moved to the window, and Darcy followed her gaze. Thomas had opened the shutters and even through the frosted glass, it was clear that the snowstorm had not abated. If anything, it looked worse than before.
Darcy frowned. After what they had already endured, he had serious qualms about sending his footman out in such treacherous conditions—not to mention the chance Elizabeth would be taking with her reputation if she remained alone with him overnight. He looked at her now, but if she had any misgivings, they were not apparent in her expression. His fingers moved to rub his brow. The unrelenting pain in his leg and ribcage were making coherent thought increasingly difficult.
“Miss Bennet, are you certain this is agreeable to you? I will understand if you would prefer for Thomas to remain.”
“I am perfectly agreeable, Mr. Darcy. After all, if Thomas leaves now, we shall be rescued that much sooner.”
Darcy’s spine stiffened. Of course. She could not wait to be free of him, regardless of the method employed to achieve that end. He felt the muscles inside his neck tighten and he briefly looked away. God, what a fool he was. Rhapsodizing over the feel of her fingers against his skin, when she was only doing her duty. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to escape this nightmare as soon as humanly possible.
“As you wish, Miss Bennet.”
Thomas shifted his attention from Darcy to Elizabeth and back again.
Tension hung heavy in the air and Elizabeth stood, moving in the direction of the corridor. “I am certain the two of you have matters to discuss. If you will excuse me, I will…have a look around.” And then, like the worst sort of coward, she hastily quit the room.
***
It did not take Elizabeth long to explore the remainder of the small cottage. Besides the front parlor, there was one bedchamber, sparsely furnished, a cramped dressing room, and a surprisingly large kitchen where she found a well-stocked larder. After filling an old copper kettle with snow collected from the back garden and hanging it over the fire to heat, she made her way to a corner of the room, lowering herself into one of the high-backed chairs surrounding an old wooden table.
She had made Mr. Darcy angry. She hadn’t meant to. Was it simply that she had sided with his footman about going for help? Or was he offended by her impatience to be away from the cottage—away from him? She shook her head. No, she could not believe it. Certainly he would be as eager as she was to remove himself from such an awkward situation.
The soft whistling of the kettle tugged Elizabeth from her ponderings. Crossing to the pantry, she raised herself onto the balls of her feet, reaching for the tea caddy which had been placed on one of the upper shelves. But before her fingers closed around the lacquered box, a sharp pain caused her to flinch. Elizabeth pushed up her sleeve, stretching her neck to peer over her shoulder. To her surprise, a lengthy gash ran down the outside of her arm where an angry bruise was beginning to form just above her elbow.
A sudden movement drew Elizabeth’s attention to the center of the room. Mr. Darcy stood framed in the open door, his tall figure blocking out the light from the passageway.
Elizabeth jumped, tugging at her sleeve. “Mr. Darcy! You should not be walking around!”
Darcy took a shaky step, gripping the handle of the fire-iron he was using for support, but his eyes remained fixed on Elizabeth’s sleeve. “You are injured.”
Elizabeth colored. “It is nothing. Only a scratch. Pray, sit. I was just preparing our tea.”
Darcy dropped into the seat Elizabeth indicated, his mouth flattened into a firm line.
“Did Thomas leave?” Elizabeth asked, retrieving the box of tea and busying herself with the kettle. “I thought I heard the door.” Elizabeth looked up and Darcy offered a terse nod. “Oh. I had intended to offer him some refreshment.”
“Do not concern yourself. He was impatient to depart.”
Elizabeth reached for a teacup, surprised to see that her fingers trembled.
Narrowing his gaze, Darcy pulled himself to his feet. “Miss Bennet, I think you should sit.”
Elizabeth blinked at him before slowly sinking into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “I… I do not know what is the matter. I feel rather dizzy all of a sudden.”
Darcy frowned. “The events of the day are catching up with you. You have had a shock.” He reached for the teapot, splashing hot liquid into a cup. Pulling the flask from his pocket, he dispensed a generous amount of brandy into the tea before passing the cup into her hands. “Here, drink this.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment before wrapping her fingers around the heavy porcelain and taking several rapid swallows. The warm liquid scalded her throat but she continued to drink until the cup was empty.
Darcy drew his chair alongside hers. “Let me see your arm.”
“There isn’t any need. I told you, it is only a scrape.”
Darcy gazed back at her, his expression unyielding. “Miss Bennet.”
Releasing a soft huff, Elizabeth pushed up her sleeve.
Darcy stretched out his hand, gently running his fingers along the rough skin and Elizabeth’s pulse fluttered inside her throat.
“You are correct, it does not look serious. But you should clean the wound. Have you more water?”
Swallowing her discomfiture, Elizabeth nodded, moving to the fire and filling a small basin. Returning to the table, she reached for one of the linen towels resting on the sideboard, but Darcy pulled the cloth from her fingers. Dipping it into the water, he pressed it gently to the abrasion.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not much.”
“How about your head?”
Elizabeth touched her temple. “I will confess to a bit of a headache, but otherwise I am well.”
Darcy set aside the damp cloth and Elizabeth slowly rolled down her sleeve. They regarded each other for several moments before Darcy released an anguished groan, dropping his head into his hands.
Elizabeth stood, a knot of fear instantly forming in her chest. “Mr. Darcy? Are you in pain?”
He shook his head, but when he lifted his eyes, Elizabeth could see genuine torment reflected in his gaze.
“This is my fault. I never should have suggested that we travel in this weather. If it were not for me, you would be safe at the Bell.” He paused before adding in a choked whisper, “And a good man would not be dead.”
Instinctively, Elizabeth stretched out her hand, allowing her fingers to settle on his shoulder. “Sir, you take too much upon yourself. It is indeed a horrible thing that a man lost his life today, but it was an accident. That axle could have cracked just as easily if the weather were fair.”
“You are too generous, Miss Bennet. The fact remains that you were injured because I insisted you accompany me.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but as she did, a memory prickled at the corners of her consciousness, and her breath stilled inside her lungs.
“You grabbed me. In the carriage. Right before the crash.”
Darcy’s head jerked up, and his countenance visibly paled. “Dear God. Did I hurt you?”
Slowly, Elizabeth shook her head as everything came flooding back: Mr. Darcy’s strong hands drawing her to the center of the compartment, shifting their positions to put himself between her and the door as the carriage rolled over on its side.
“You pulled me away from the window. You switched places with me.”
“But your injuries… The bruises, on your arm…”
“Mr. Darcy, you did not cause me any harm. I think you may have saved my life.”
“Miss Bennet, were it not for me, you would not have been in danger in the first place.”
Elizabeth began to speak, but before she could gather her thoughts, a low rumbling filled the air, breaking the tension.
“One of us is hungry, I think.”
Darcy colored, but seemed glad to have a turn in the conversation. “It would appear so. I do not suppose there is anything to eat inside those cupboards?”
“Oh, but there is!” Hurrying to her feet, Elizabeth disappeared into the larder.
“Miss Bennet, are you well enough for that? I would not have you go to any trouble on my account.”
“‘Tis no trouble. I am quite recovered,” she called, returning several minutes later, her arms laden with parcels. “Besides, you are not the only one who is hungry.”
Turning back to the sideboard, Elizabeth surveyed her haul: a sack of lentils, four slightly withered carrots, one large bag of onions, two turnips, and a length of dried meat. She gave this last a tentative sniff. Venison? Or possibly mutton? Not that it mattered, so long as it was edible.
Filling a pot with what remained of the water, she carefully hung it above the fire. Surely something that passed for a meal could be fashioned from the assembled ingredients. Reaching for a knife, she began to peel the onions, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for all the days she had spent hiding out in the Longbourn kitchens.
Behind her, Darcy shifted in his chair, and although he remained silent, Elizabeth could feel his impenetrable gaze upon her back.
The onion she had been about to cut skittered across the worktop. Darcy leaned forward, catching the wayward vegetable before it could hit the floor. Elizabeth flushed, taking it from his outstretched palm and murmuring her thanks before hastily returning to her task. She worked in silence for several minutes before Mr. Darcy cleared his throat.
“Miss Bennet, is there anything I might do to assist?”
“No, no,” she answered quickly. “I have things well in hand.” Taking up the sack of lentils she scooped out several large spoonfuls, hesitating briefly before tossing them into the pot.
A smile twitched at the corner of Darcy’s lips. “Miss Bennet, do you know what you are doing?”
Elizabeth twisted around to look at him. “Certainly.”
From his place at the table, Darcy leaned back in his seat. “Do you mind if I remain here while you cook?” he finally asked. “I would not wish to make you uneasy.”
“No, I am happy for the company. In any case, you should stay off that leg. Oh! I have totally forgotten!” Dropping the knife she had been using to chop carrots, she crossed the room, returning with a small bundle of toweling. “Ice. For your leg.” Elizabeth smiled. “At least that is one thing we have in abundance.”
Darcy relaxed back into his chair, accepting the cold compress, and Elizabeth returned to her task. When she had finally hung the heavy iron pot over the fire, she took the seat opposite Mr. Darcy, and the two spent the next hour in quiet conversation. Elizabeth rose several times to tend to their meal, and eventually a rich, earthy aroma settled in the air.
“You seem to know your way around a kitchen, Miss Bennet,” Darcy offered, as Elizabeth used a long wooden spoon to stir the thick stew that was now bubbling over the embers of the fire.
“Does that shock you, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
Darcy opened his mouth to answer but Elizabeth’s laughter stilled the words on his tongue.
“Indeed, I suppose it is rather shocking,” she said, covering the pot and coming to take the seat across from him. “My mother would die of mortification if she knew anything about it.” At Darcy’s confused expression, she continued, “If you were to speak to my mother, she would tell you that we were well able to keep a cook, and that none of her daughters had a thing to do in the kitchen.” Elizabeth laughed. “What my mother does not know, is that I used to retreat to the kitchens at Longbourn when I was a child and the weather did not permit me to go out of doors. Eventually, our cook took pity on me and agreed to teach me a few simple skills. I always thought the knowledge would be useful one day… and now you see it has been. Although I must confess, I always preferred assisting with the desserts. I’ll have you know that I make an excellent pie, Mr. Darcy. Alas, the ingredients I require are not present. Perhaps some other time I will have the opportunity to bake one for you.”
Darcy blinked back at her, but it wasn’t long before Elizabeth’s smile slipped and her expression grew somber. “Mr. Darcy, I feel I should apologize for what happened earlier. I assure you, I am not normally prone to swooning.”
“Believe me, Miss Bennet, I never thought you were.” Elizabeth dropped her gaze and Darcy leaned forward, his voice low and intent. “I know of no other woman who could have born up so admirably under today’s circumstances. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Elizabeth gazed back at him and warmth began building in her belly. Quickly, she slid out of her seat. Returning to the hearth, she lifted the cover off the pot and a savory aroma filled the kitchen.
“I believe our feast is ready, sir,” Elizabeth announced, keeping her voice light. Darcy watched her as she ladled out the thick stew and set two steaming bowls upon the wooden table.
“You will have to pardon the simplicity of the meal, Mr. Darcy. I am certain this is not what you are accustomed to.”
“Not at all. I actually prefer simple food, and this looks excellent.”
Elizabeth surveyed the dish in front of her as Darcy lifted his spoon. If she was being honest, she wasn’t quite as confident as she had let on. While it was true that she had often assisted their cook, Mrs. Doyle, in the kitchens, she had never prepared a meal of any type entirely from scratch. And to think that for her maiden effort she was serving a stew of mysterious meat and questionable carrots to Mr. Darcy! Good heavens, the man probably had a French cook.
Across the table, Darcy swallowed his first mouthful and his eyes lit. “Miss Bennet, this is delicious.”
Elizabeth flushed at Darcy’s praise, and the two ate for a while in companionable silence. When Mr. Darcy had devoured the last morsel, he sheepishly asked for more, and Elizabeth stood to refill their bowls. Turning away from the hearth, she was surprised to see Mr. Darcy grinning back at her.
Elizabeth’s brows lifted. “Might I ask what you find so amusing, sir?”
“Forgive me, I was just imagining how I would have fared if I had been stranded here with Miss Bingley rather than yourself. Besides the fact that it would have been a most unpleasant experience, I cannot think that I should have been treated to a meal such as this. As a matter of fact, I am quite certain we would have starved.”
Elizabeth’s bright laughter filled the air. “I am afraid you are likely correct. I somehow doubt Miss Bingley has ever seen the inside of a kitchen!”
Elizabeth soon regained her seat and she and Mr. Darcy conversed amiably for the remainder of the meal. When they had both finished, Elizabeth stood to clear their dishes, taking them to the stone basin in the corner of the room. Rolling her sleeves, she proceeded to the hearth, heaving up the large pot of water she had hung there to heat.
Watching her, Darcy’s expression sobered. “Miss Bennet, may I ask what you are doing?”
Elizabeth tilted her chin. “What does it look like I am doing, Mr. Darcy?”
“It looks like you are preparing to wash dishes.”
“You are very perceptive, sir.”
“Miss Bennet, that is not required of you.”
Setting the pot back over the fire, Elizabeth turned to face her companion. “Oh? Have the servants arrived from Pemberley? Forgive me. I did not see them come in.”
Darcy blew out a frustrated breath. “Miss Bennet, cooking is one thing. But I will not have you scrubbing pots like a scullery maid.”
Irritation prickled beneath Elizabeth’s skin and her expression darkened. Folding her arms, she attempted to regulate her temper. “Mr. Darcy, I realize that you are accustomed to having a large household to see to the less pleasant necessities of life, but as we are stranded here without the benefit of servants, I am afraid we must make do.”
“I think you misunderstand me,” Darcy replied, stiffly.
“What is there to misunderstand? Clearly you think this type of work is beneath your station, and my own. If it offends you to watch, pray, feel free to leave the room.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think of me? That I believe honest, hard work is in some way demeaning?” When Elizabeth did not answer, he continued, “As it happens, I have nothing but respect for the individuals in my employ, and I would ask no task of a servant that I would not undertake myself, should it prove necessary.” He took a breath, as if pausing to give himself a moment to think. “I beg your pardon. I believe I expressed myself poorly. It is only that I would prefer not to see you scrub pots after all you have been through today. I meant no offence.”
Despite her ire, Elizabeth’s gaze softened. “I appreciate your concern. But as I said, I am well recovered. It will not take long, and I would prefer to leave things as we found them.”
Slowly, Darcy nodded. “Very well, I will concede. But then you must allow me to be of some assistance. May I dry for you? I think I should be able to manage that, even from my position here at the table.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted, practically reaching her hairline. Mr. Darcy, drying dishes? It was all she could do to keep her composure. “I… If you wish…” she finally sputtered. When Darcy nodded, she moved to the cupboard, collecting a stack of toweling and bringing it to where he sat. With the two of them working, the chore was finished in very little time. When all was in order, Elizabeth assisted Mr. Darcy to the parlor before heading to the corridor where Thomas had stacked the extra wood. In the small parlor she built up the fire before settling comfortably into one of the two armchairs facing the hearth. Across from her, Mr. Darcy stared into the flames and Elizabeth regarded him from the corner of her vision.
Outside, a harsh wind whistled in the trees, but within the tiny cottage, there was only silence.
***
Turning towards the hearth, Darcy focused his attention on the hiss and crackle of the fire. The throbbing in his leg was growing progressively worse, but he did not want to consume any more brandy. Being alone with Elizabeth was enough of a temptation without having his mind clouded by drink. His gaze wandered back to the place where she sat, bathed in the fire’s amber glow. He wondered what she was thinking. Despite her bravado, the situation they found themselves in had to be unsettling for her—stranded in a cottage in the middle of the woods with a man she vehemently disliked. Heaven knows, if anyone found out, her reputation would be ruined. Darcy sighed. Not that he would have any difficulty doing the honorable thing and marrying her, but for the first time since his failed proposal, the thought gave him little pleasure. As much as he wanted her, knowing he would be forcing Elizabeth into a union she found reprehensible would be his undoing.
You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry…
The soft timbre of Elizabeth’s voice drew him from his humiliating recollections and he pulled his gaze away from the flames.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I was not attending. What were you saying?”
“I was just asking if you were too warm. Your face is flushed. Would you like to move farther from the fire?”
Darcy could feel the color in his cheeks deepen. “No. I am well.”
Elizabeth nodded and the conversation lapsed. But after several minutes, Darcy sat forward in his chair.
“Miss Bennet, I realize the predicament in which we find ourselves must be distressing for you. I want to assure you that if it is within my power, no one will learn of this. Thomas will not speak of it, and with any luck we will be returned to the Bell first thing in the morning, with no one the wiser.”
To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth appeared disconcerted by this shift in the conversation.
“Thank you. I suppose I hadn’t really considered…” Addressing her comments to his last statement she continued, “I did not think it was in your nature to be deceptive, Mr. Darcy. Did you not tell me once that you loathed disguise of any sort?”
Darcy looked away, squirming in his seat. Leave it to Elizabeth to remember every pompous statement he had ever uttered. Attempting to keep his voice even, he looked back at her, his expression earnest. “I did. But in this case, it cannot be helped. If anyone were to find out we spent the night here unchaperoned, your reputation would be beyond repair, and we would be compelled to marry. You do understand that?”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew round and Darcy cleared his throat. When he continued, his voice had lost some of its edge. “Miss Bennet, as we are speaking of honesty, there is a matter that has been weighing on me. I feel I owe you an apology. For something I said to you, in the carriage.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I am afraid I was not truthful with you about my reasons for missing your sister’s wedding. It was not business that kept me away.”
Elizabeth studied him with an unreadable expression. “No, I did not think it was. But if there is an apology owing, it is to Mr. Bingley and my sister. I already knew you disapproved of the match, so it was no surprise to me that you chose not to attend.”
“Is that what you think?”
Elizabeth lifted her hand in a small wave. “Pray, do not trouble yourself about it now. I am only grateful you did not stand in the way of—”
“Miss Bennet, again, you misunderstand. I did not keep my distance as a form of protest. I am very happy for Bingley and your sister. I was wrong about their affection for one another and I should not have interfered. I have told Bingley as much.”
“But then, I do not understand…”
Darcy clasped his hands, leaning forward so that his elbows rested upon his knees. “I stayed away because I did not wish to make you uncomfortable. After we parted in the spring, knowing your feelings…” Elizabeth flushed a soft pink and Darcy averted his gaze. “It is just that I understood the event would be a special celebration for your family. I did not want my presence to mar your enjoyment of the day.”
“But Mr. Bingley asked you to stand up with him! I know he was disappointed when you declined.”
Darcy shrugged. “Bingley is the forgiving sort. And I wrote to express my well wishes.”
“Still, he wanted you there,” Elizabeth repeated. “You should not have stayed away because of me.”
“Miss Bennet, I did not tell you this to make you uneasy. I merely wished for you to know that your happiness will always be of great importance to me. This will never change.”
“I… Thank you,” she whispered.
Darcy leaned his head against the worn upholstery. Briefly giving in to the pain, he allowed his eyes to slip closed for a moment.
“Mr. Darcy, you must still be in a good deal of discomfort. Perhaps some brandy in a cup of tea?”
Darcy opened his eyes. “No, I will save the brandy. But some tea would be welcome, if you will join me?”
Elizabeth nodded. Making her way to the kitchen, she returned shortly with the teapot and another bundle of ice for Darcy’s leg. He watched as she poured out the tea, handing him his cup. Taking a small swallow, his mouth turned down at the corners.
“Miss Bennet, what is in here?”
Elizabeth tilted her head, regarding her own teacup. “It is willow-bark tea. I noticed it when I was going through the pantry earlier. My aunt used to make it when any of us were ill. It should help with the pain.” She took a sip, attempting to disguise her own displeasure. “I am sorry it does not taste better.”
Darcy studied her over the rim of his cup. “No doubt you are missing the lemon,” he said, and Elizabeth gazed back at him with obvious surprise.
“I recall that that was how you usually took your tea when we were at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth continued to stare before saying, “You are correct, sir. I am inordinately fond of lemons. I used to eat them whole when I was a child, much to the amusement of the rest of my family. However, I now content myself with lemon flavored confections and the occasional slice in a cup of tea.”
Darcy took another swallow of the herbal mixture, stifling a grimace. “You seem quite knowledgeable on the topic of medicine, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth lifted one shoulder. “My aunt’s father was a physician. She picked up many useful remedies from him, which she has passed along to me. At Longbourn I am usually the one to assist when anyone is ill or injured. My mother is far too nervous and my father and youngest sisters have never taken an interest in such matters. Mary and Jane are some help, but I am afraid Jane gets faint at the sight of blood. So, you see, that leaves me. But I have always found it fascinating.”
Darcy smiled. “Well, as the recipient of your expert care, you have my gratitude.”
“And I am happy to be of service to you, sir,” Elizabeth replied.
For some time after that, they sat gazing at the fire, each thinking their own thoughts. Darcy continued to sip his tea, slowly growing accustomed to the taste. Whether it was the herbal remedy or the brandy he had consumed earlier he could not say, but he found himself relaxing as the ache in his leg and ribcage gradually receded. As the quiet stretched on, Darcy remembered how Elizabeth had chastised him for his silence during their dance at the Netherfield ball. I should say something, he thought. Something to put her at ease.
Casting about for a neutral topic, he roughly cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, you spoke of your aunt. Do you refer to the relations you are now traveling to visit in Town?”
Elizabeth looked up, clearly startled by this shift in the conversation. “Yes, sir. My uncle owns a business there. Jane and I have spent a considerable amount of time with them, ever since we were quite small. Though I suppose that will change now that Jane is married.”
“Oh? Only Mrs. Bingley and yourself?” Darcy inquired. “What of the rest of your sisters?”
“No, only the two of us. It is rather a long story. I would not wish to bore you.”
“Please. I would like to hear it.”
Elizabeth studied him as if to judge the veracity of his words. “Very well.” Nesting comfortably into the corner of her chair, she continued, “I suppose it began when my sister Kitty was born. My mother’s confinement was a difficult one… To tell the truth, she was so ill the midwife insisted she have absolute peace and quiet. So, Jane and I were bundled off to stay with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in Town. Our younger sister Mary, who was still in the care of a nurse, was sent to our Aunt and Uncle Phillips, so that she might be closer to home. Kitty was delivered safely, but my mother took much longer to recover. Jane and I stayed in Town for the better part of a year, visiting home only briefly.
“Of course, my parents were warned not to attempt another child, but Mamma was determined to deliver a boy, since Longbourn is entailed to Mr. Collins, as you know.” Darcy nodded and Elizabeth paused before saying, “By the time Jane and I were ready to return, our mother was increasing again and the situation was much the same. The nurse stayed on to care for Kitty and Mary, and Jane and I remained with the Gardiners who had become almost second parents to us by then. When Lydia was born, the midwife said it was a miracle Mamma survived.” Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. “There were no more children after that. Eventually, Jane and I returned home, but by then our family relationships had permanently shifted. I think that is why Jane and I have always been especially close, having at one time been one another’s sole companions. It is the same for Lydia and Kitty—Mamma has always doted on them as neither was expected to survive.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am afraid poor Mary has always been wedged in the middle. I fear it has been difficult for her.” Elizabeth finished her story, staring into the fire.
Darcy followed her gaze. Well, that explained a vast deal. Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet’s nerves seemed more than justified. Of course, the woman’s manners still left much to be desired, but Darcy could not help but admire her determination—both to produce an heir and then, when that failed, to see her daughters well-settled and adequately cared for. Aloud he said, “I can see how that must have been difficult for you.”
Elizabeth glanced up at the sound of his voice. “No, I am grateful for the time I have been able to spend with the Gardiners.” Tipping her chin up a notch she added, “They are wonderful people. Jane and I continued to visit them often, even once we had returned to Longbourn to live.”
“You were traveling with your aunt and uncle earlier this summer, were you not?” Darcy asked. “I believe Bingley wrote about a trip to the Lakes?”
To Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth flushed.
“I… yes… That is, we were to travel to the Lakes, but my uncle was detained on business, so we were not able to journey quite so far as we had originally planned.”
“Oh?”
Elizabeth’s finger traced a slow circle around the edge of her cup. “Yes. We only went as far as Derbyshire. My aunt wished to visit the town where she was raised.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “Your aunt hails from Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes. From Lambton, sir,” Elizabeth answered, watching as the significance of this statement registered in his eyes.
“But, that is only five miles from Pemberley!” Darcy could not believe what he was hearing. Had Elizabeth been in the nearest village when he had been holed up at Pemberley, despairing of never seeing her again?
“Yes, I know. Although I believe you were from home at the time we visited. At least that is what the housekeeper indicated.”
Darcy startled. “You visited Pemberley?” he asked, and Elizabeth nodded.
“My aunt had toured the grounds several times as a girl, but had never been inside the house. She was eager to see it, and she thought I would enjoy the gardens there.”
Darcy found himself leaning forward in his chair, the pain that had been practically unbearable a short time ago all but forgotten. “And did you?” he asked, hoarsely. “Enjoy the gardens, that is?”
Once again, Elizabeth’s cheeks colored. “Yes, of course! But I think there are few who would not enjoy them. They are amongst the finest I have seen.”
“And did you have the opportunity to tour the public rooms?” Darcy pressed, eager to hear everything. “I hope you found them to your satisfaction?”
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes! The views from the music room were breathtaking. I am certain I would never get any practicing done if I had such a lovely prospect to distract me. And I especially enjoyed the portrait gallery.”
At the mention of the gallery, Darcy recalled a conversation with his housekeeper shortly after his arrival at Pemberley the previous summer. Mrs. Reynolds had spoken of a small party that had toured the house the day before, mentioning that a young woman had claimed an acquaintance with him. At the time, Darcy had given the story little credence. He was used to unmarried ladies of the ton and their match-making mammas claiming a connection when no such relationship existed. But as he thought about it, he seemed to remember Mrs. Reynolds saying the young lady had taken a keen interest in the gallery, particularly in the portraits of Georgiana and himself.
Darcy looked up in confusion, realizing Elizabeth had been speaking to him. “My apologies, Miss Bennet, what were you saying?”
Elizabeth flushed. “Not at all, sir. I only wished to assure you that we never would have trespassed on your privacy had you been at home. I… I hope the idea of my visiting Pemberley does not distress you.”
“On the contrary. You will always be welcome at Pemberley. My only regret is that I was not there to acquaint you with the estate myself. Perhaps another time…” his voice trailed off and Elizabeth looked away.
“Thank you.”
The two sat quietly for several moments gazing at each other in the fire’s golden glow.
“Mr. Darcy, if you are not feeling too fatigued, perhaps you could tell me a little more about Pemberley?”
“Certainly. What would you like to know?”
Elizabeth indicated that she was happy to hear whatever he was willing to share, and Darcy thought seriously for several moments before speaking.
“You mentioned your enjoyment of the gardens. Had I been present, there is one in particular I would have wished to show you. It is a walled garden some distance from the house, and one that is not open to the public. It is less formal than the gardens you toured, but we grow a wide variety of vegetation there. My mother had it designed when she first came to the estate as a young bride.” Darcy smiled. “She spent many happy hours within those walls. She used to call it her refuge.”
“It sounds lovely,” Elizabeth murmured. After a moment she added, “You were close to your mother. I can tell.”
Darcy nodded, his throat suddenly tight. “She was an extraordinary woman. Kind and generous. She adored art and music and nature in all its forms. She would take me on long walks when I was a boy. She taught me the names of all the plants and flowers. Though I learned the management of the estate from my father, I believe it is from my mother that I get my devotion to the land.” He paused before continuing softly, “I still miss her very much.”
“I cannot imagine the heartache of losing a parent,” Elizabeth answered.
Darcy gazed back at her, but his mind was far away. “For many years I could not stand to visit that garden. After my father’s death, I locked the gate. It was only this past summer that I began cultivating it again. I think it would make my mother happy to see it returned to its former glory.” Darcy did not add that it was Elizabeth’s refusal at Hunsford that had inspired him to revitalize his mother’s garden. It had given him a purpose, a distraction at a time when he most needed one, and oddly it had made him feel closer to the woman he loved when he worked on it, alongside his gardeners. Somehow, he always pictured Elizabeth there, amongst the brightly colored blooms, her eyes sparkling with laughter. He turned his attention to the flesh and blood Elizabeth who smiled sleepily.
“Tell me more. How long has the estate been in your family?”
“Oh, many generations. My great, great, great grandfather purchased it on the occasion of his marriage. He came here from France…”
Elizabeth eyelids drifted shut, but Darcy continued to speak in a low murmur. The soft hum of his voice mingled with the crackling of the fire, and a profound sense of tranquility settled over the small parlor—as if all was exactly as it should be.