Page 41 of Not Without Me, Miss Elizabeth

She had worked herself into a fine state of private misery when the latch sounded, and her eyes flew to the door, praying it should prove to be him, and dreading it might instead be Wickham.

The heavy door swung open to reveal Mr. Darcy, followed by a man bearing a well-laden tray.

What a relief!The words rushed through her all at once, loosening something that had been coiled tight in her chest since she first found the settee empty.

He had not abandoned her after all, and she chastised herself at once for so foolish a fancy, ashamed now of how quickly her mind had leapt to the very worst conclusion. Of course he would not have left her in the small hours of the morning, he had gone only to secure her breakfast, thoughtful even in this.Bless him.

"Set it there, if you please." Darcy directed the man to one of the small tables, and with a brief bow, the fellow withdrew, leaving them alone once more.

Turning to her, Darcy smiled, something easy and unguarded in it that she was still growing accustomed to seeing so freely offered. "Good morning. I hope you slept well. I found myself famished, and thought to send for breakfast. Not knowing your preference, I asked for a little of everything."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture delighted her more than she cared to admit, and she could not help but admire him for it; this small, ordinary kindness somehow more affecting, after everything, than any grand declaration might have been. "Thank you, sir. I did sleep well, and I confess I am quite famished myself."

"Then let us eat." He gestured her toward the table with a small, welcoming flourish, as though presenting her with a feast rather than bread and cheese and boiled eggs.

They filled their plates from the tray; bread, cheese, boiled eggs, cured pork, and oatcakes with honey, along with a choice of ale or tea, which they both took as tea. They settled together upon the settee to enjoy their meal. Darcy, hungry as he plainly was, kept scrupulously to proper manners throughout; Elizabeth showed rather less restraint, making short work of a good wedge of local Caerphilly and a heel of barley bread before turning her attention to the oatcakes, and finally to the eggs and pork besides.

Glancing over as he ate his own portion of pork, he noticed a small smudge of butter at the corner of her mouth, and reached forward without thinking to wipe it away. She stopped mid-bite, looking up at him.

Having dealt with the offending smudge, he met her bright, startled eyes. "Thank you," she managed, still chewing.

He laughed. "You are entirely welcome, my dear."

Colour rose swiftly in her cheeks, and she looked away at once, unable to hold his gaze, her chest fluttering with a sensation she could not quite name.

A dangerous game indeed,he thought, keenly aware of how strongly his own wish to remain near her had grown. She was temptation itself, and he was determined to guard her, not least, from himself.

Turning the conversation deliberately elsewhere, he said, "I expect my cousin will have my letter within the next several hours. With any good fortune, we may see him by tomorrow."

Elizabeth issued a nod, in relief, and something else, anxiety perhaps. "I shall be glad to meet him." She hesitated. "Though I cannot help but wonder what he will think of me."

"We have spoken of this already. My cousin will think you one of the bravest women he has ever had the good fortune to meet. None of this was your doing, Elizabeth, and I will not have you suffer further for it. You are my intended wife; I have told him as much in my letter already. He will be delighted to make your acquaintance, and I am eager for it myself. You will like him, I think. He has an easy manner about him that will put you at ease directly, I am sure of it."

His readiness to defend her, and his certainty that his cousin would think no less of her for their circumstances, brought her some comfort, though a measure of unease remained regardless. Fond as she was of their present quiet intimacy, she would be glad enough, in time, to have a room of her own again, with some proper companion to attend her.

The thought turned her mind toward her family. What must her father make of the express, once it reached him? She realised, with some surprise, that she had never asked what Mr. Darcy had actually written to him, and found herself suddenly curious to know.

She asked, rather curiously, "What did you write to my father?”

He rose and crossed to the fireplace, turning to face her as he spoke, while she watched him from her seat. "I told him first that you were safe. Then I explained that we had been taken while walking near the Meryton lake, carried into Wales, and that we had since escaped our captors together, and now await my cousin's arrival to see us safely home. I gave him our direction, the Bull Inn, T——, Wales."

She noted at once that he had made no mention of their engagement in his summary of the letter, and asked him plainly, unable to keep a note of teasing from her voice, "And does he know we are engaged, sir, or does that particular detail escape your excellent memory entirely?"

"I did not write him an entire novel," he said, with a grin that did nothing to disguise his own amusement at being caught out. "But I did tell him I had asked for your hand, and await his blessing upon it."

"You, sir, are quite incorrigible." Elizabeth could not keep the smile from her own voice as she said it.

This earned him another laugh from her that morning, low and genuine. "I apologise, madam, for so grave an oversight in my recollection," he said, with a small, mock-solemn bow that suited his words not at all.

Her eyebrows rose higher still, and her mouth curved into so wide and unguarded a smile that he felt entirely, gloriously certain of his forgiveness, and found himself thinking, not for the first time that morning, how very much he preferred her laughing to anything else in the world.

CHAPTER 23

Mr. Darcy made every effort to remain in the small room with Elizabeth through the day, but found it grew steadily harder to sit so near her without something to distract himself. He resolved, therefore, to go below and secure some manner of reading material to occupy them both. Darcy returned some minutes later bearing an almanac and a copy of theMorning Chronicle, a few days old by the look of it.

Before setting out on his errand, he had first made use of the washroom, and Elizabeth had taken the opportunity of his absence to see to her own necessities; a relief she had been putting off for some time, too embarrassed to ask him to quit the room on her account, given how thoroughly she had already been obliged to assist him in the same office.

His absence proved timely for more than one reason, though it left her uneasy on his account. She could not help but fear he might cross paths with Wickham somewhere in the town, which, however sizeable, she could not be certain was large enough to keep them entirely hidden. She pushed the thought from her mind as best she could, seeing to her own needs and returning the chamber pot beneath the bed for the maid to collect later.