Page 15 of You Willfully Misunderstand Me

Mrs. Kewley dismissed the thanks with a wave of her hand, "A traveler who goes to bed hungry sleeps poorly."

Within minutes, Mr. and, the faux, Mrs. Darcy were gathered around a small oak table before the hearth. The meal was simple, and Elizabeth and Darcy spoke little. Mrs. Kewley acted as server, pouring wine, or removing dishes from the table to offer more room.

Each time Mrs. Kewley addressed Elizabeth asMrs. Darcy, or spoke of "your husband," Elizabeth became acutely aware of the gentleman seated opposite her. Darcy, for his part, bore the fiction with admirable composure, respondingnaturally whenever spoken to, though she fancied she detected the slightest tightening of his jaw each time the falsehood was repeated.

At last, seeing fatigue written plainly upon both their faces, Mrs. Kewley rose. "You've had enough excitement for one day. Tomorrow will look much brighter after a proper night's rest."

Mr. Kewley gathered the remainder of dishes while his wife took up a candlestick, "I'll show you to your chamber."

Elizabeth instinctively looked toward Darcy, as they arose from their seats. For the first time since agreeing to their extraordinary masquerade, they were about to face its most awkward consequence.

CHAPTER 9

Mrs. Kewley led them down a short passage illuminated by the soft glow of a single candle, "This way, if you please."

She led them down a short passage, the polished floorboards creaking gently beneath their footsteps. Stopping before the final door, she smiled with quiet satisfaction, "I've prepared the owner's chamber for you."

She pushed the door open. The room was larger than Elizabeth had expected, plainly the principal bedchamber of the cottage. A handsome four-post bed stood against the far wall, its white curtains neatly tied back and fresh linen turned down in welcome. A cheerful fire burned upon the hearth, chasing away the dampness carried in from the sea, while a polished mahogany chest, a broad dressing table, and two comfortable armchairs completed the room. Though modest by the standards of a great estate, every article had been carefully maintained, and the chamber possessed the unmistakable character of a room intended not for occasional guests but for the owners themselves.

Mrs. Kewley crossed to another door, nearly concealed within the oak paneling, "And through here is the gentleman's chamber."

She opened it to show an adjoining room that was considerably smaller, furnished with a narrow bed, a writing desk beneath the window, and a tall wardrobe. A second fire had been laid there as well, though it had not yet been lit.

"My husband always called it the master's room," she said with a fond smile. "The gentlemen liked a place to dress, read, or retire when they wished not to disturb their wives. The rooms have always communicated."

Elizabeth looked from one chamber to the other, as Mrs. Kewley continued, entirely unaware of the effect her words produced. "Of course, each room has its own entrance from the passage as well, but most couples find the communicating door the more convenient."

Mr. Darcy felt the warmth rise to his own cheeks, "That is...very thoughtful, Mrs. Kewley, thank you."

"We hoped you would be comfortable," Mrs. Kewley replied. "One does not often receive the master of the cottage and his lady."

Darcy inclined his head, "You have anticipated every comfort, Mrs. Kewley."

"It is only as it ought to be, sir."

She glanced approvingly about the room, straightened a corner of the quilt that scarcely required attention, and then curtsied. "Well then, I shall leave you to settle yourselves. Sleep well, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy."

The door closed softly behind her, and silence descended at once. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy moved, as Elizabeth's eyes rested upon the great bed. It had suddenly seemed far larger than before.

Darcy, with equal determination, fixed his attention upon the communicating door leading into the smaller chamber, and finally, at length he spoke, "You shall, of course, have this room, and I shall occupy the gentleman's chamber."

She followed his gaze toward the adjoining room. Though considerably smaller, it appeared perfectly comfortable.

Elizabeth looked at the side room, and spoke honestly, "I fear I have displaced you from the better accommodation."

"Not at all." His expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Indeed, I suspect the arrangement was designed with precisely such circumstances in mind."

A faint smile escaped her before she could prevent it, "I cannot imagine the original owners anticipated circumstances quite like ours."

"No," he admitted, the corner of his mouth threatening the slightest smile in return. "I believe they expected an actual husband and wife."

Outside, the wind pressed against the windows with increasing insistence, carrying with it the distant, unceasing roar of the sea. Neither yet realized that before another sunrise, that same sea would rise with a violence not witnessed upon the Isle of Man in nearly a century.

Inside, however, the awkwardness was unlike anything Elizabeth had ever experienced. They had once argued withuncommon spirit. They had wounded one another with painful frankness. And now, when only ordinary conversation was required, words seemed strangely unequal to the occasion.

At length Darcy gathered his valise, and said, with a brief nod, "I shall retire." He crossed into the adjoining room, pausing beside the communicating door. "If the wind should worsen during the night, there is no cause for alarm. These cottages were built to withstand far rougher weather than most." Before he closed the connecting door, he offered the slightest inclination of his head, "I wish you a peaceful night's rest."

Elizabeth tried to offer a sincere smile, "And you as well."