Page 13 of You Willfully Misunderstand Me

Mr. Darcy inclined his head but did not speak. He would not persuade her further. The decision, he knew, had to be entirely her own.

After another long silence, she drew a steadying breath, "Very well."

His eyes met hers, "To the cottage, we shall go.”

Without another word, Mr. Darcy called for the innkeeper, settled the account for their untouched meal, and requested that a cart be made ready. Within half an hour, the harbor lay behind them.

Night had settled over the island, and the road wound steadily away from Castletown, climbing gently through rolling fields bordered by ancient stone walls. The last traces of twilight lingered above the Irish Sea, while the first stars appeared overhead. Their driver spoke little, content to guide the horse along the narrow lane that led inland.

Elizabeth wrapped her shawl more closely about her shoulders and looked out into the unfamiliar countryside. Whatever awaited them at the cottage, she reflected, it was certainly not the adventure she had imagined when she accepted Anne de Bourgh's invitation.

CHAPTER 8

Not far from outside the inn, an aged traveling carriage stood waiting beneath the fading light; it had been sent from the cottage in anticipation of Mr. Darcy's arrival, and had remained at the harbor throughout the afternoon after word reached the caretaker that the Liverpool Packet had docked earlier than expected.

The driver immediately removed his hat, "Good evening, sir, are you Mr. Darcy."

"Good evening, Thomas, yes, I am he, and my wife is accompanying me, Mrs. Darcy."

The coachman stepped forward to collect their luggage, though his attention, like everyone else's that day, soon drifted toward Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy answered the unspoken question before it could be asked, "My wife will be accompanying me." The words, though spoken with perfect composure, landed heavily upon Elizabeth's ears. She inclined her head with what she hoped was the easy grace of a newly married woman, though inwardly she felt anything but composed.

"Mrs. Darcy," the driver said respectfully. "A pleasure to welcome you to the island, ma'am."

"Thank you," Elizabeth somehow managed.

Thomas loaded the trunks without another question, apparently satisfied with the explanation. If he harbored any surprise that his master had arrived with a bride unannounced, long service had taught him that curiosity was seldom rewarded.

Mr. Darcy opened the carriage door and stood aside, while Elizabeth hesitated for only the briefest moment before stepping inside.

How extraordinary, she thought,that only four months earlier she had rejected the very notion of becoming Mrs. Darcy, and now she entered his carriage under that very name, a fake.

Mr. Darcy followed, taking the seat opposite her rather than beside her. It was a small but deliberate act of propriety; though they must appear husband and wife before others, he would claim no familiarity beyond what necessity required.

The carriage lurched gently into motion. Castletown and its harbor began to disappear behind them, and Elizabeth glanced through the window at the last lights of the town. With each turn of the wheels, England seemed farther away, and the strange fiction they had agreed to uphold became less an idea than a reality.

She pondered now that, for however brief their stay upon the Isle of Man might prove, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been left behind at the harbor. And, the lady traveling toward the cottage was, to every eye that would meet her, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

***

At length the carriage turned from the main road onto a narrower lane lined with weathered ash trees. After several minutes, a small stone cottage came into view.

It was neither grand nor was it neglected. Built of gray local stone with a slate roof softened by creeping ivy, it overlooked the sea from a gentle rise above the cliffs. A modest garden, enclosed by a low stone wall, surrounded the house.

A lantern glowed beside the front door, and the old carriage had scarcely come to a halt before the front door opened. An elderly man descended the short path with surprising agility, removing his cap as he approached, opening the carriage door.

"Mr. Darcy!" he exclaimed warmly with a bow. "We had expected you earlier, I hope you are well, sir.”

"I regret the change in plans, Mr. Kewley," Darcy replied, stepping down from the carriage. "I had business in town to attend to.”

"Aye, sir, so it seems," the elderly man said, as he looked in surprise at the woman sitting across from Mr. Darcy.

The old man's cheerful expression had shifted toward curiosity as his eyes settled upon Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy offered his hand to assist her from the carriage, which she accepted.

Mr. Kewley's gaze lingered on the couple, feeling uncertain how to address the lady before him, before Darcy spoke plainly, "Allow me to introduce my wife." Elizabeth felt her breath catch. "Mr. Kewley, this is my wife, Mrs. Darcy." Hethen turned towards Elizabeth, “Mrs. Darcy, this is the caretaker of our property on the Isle of Man, Mr. Kewley.”

For one dreadful instant, she feared she might betray them by failing to respond. However, somehow Elizabeth managed a gracious inclination of her head, "How do you do?"