Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (3 page)

He sniffed it. “Willow bark tea?”

“Yes.”

“At the moment I am happy to drink
anything warm, even if it is willow bark tea.” He took a sip and made a face at
the bitter taste. “Thank you for making it.”

“Tea is the only thing I know how to
prepare. Cooking would be more useful to us now, but unfortunately it is not an
accomplishment admired in young ladies. However, should you find yourself in
urgent need of having a purse netted or a screen painted, I am at your
service.” She remembered his extraordinarily long list of skills necessary for
an accomplished lady, most of which she lacked.

“The tea is adequate, thank you. We must
do the best we can in these surroundings. ” His eyes travelled down her body.

The weight of his critical gaze was more
than she could bear. “Mr. Darcy, my hair is in complete disarray, my gown is
ruined, my hands are red, and I am in the most unprepossessing surroundings
possible. Surely it cannot take that much effort to find things to criticize
about me.”

His words, when they came, were as icy as
the air outside. “Pardon me. I meant no criticism.”

What did it matter? She would never see
him again after tonight. She might as well speak her mind. “It was not what you
said, but how you are always looking at me, trying to find fault in me. I have
faults a-plenty, I assure you.”

“I fear you are mistaken. I do not try to
find fault in you. I…” He stopped abruptly.

“Then why would you spend so much time
watching me? Even Charlotte noticed it.”

He looked away. “It was simply out of…
interest. Your...expressions are so lively and changeable I enjoy trying to
guess what will come next, what witticism you might make. You do not feign
indifference to everything as so many ladies do. I apologize; I meant no
offense by it, and certainly not to embarrass you. Had I found you displeasing,
I would have looked away, not
at
you.” To his credit, he did seem
genuinely bemused by her accusation of looking at her only to criticize.
Perhaps he even meant it.

“Oh. I had not realized…that.” She hoped
the light was dim enough to hide her blush. Of course he had not looked to
criticize; in the presence of someone like her mother or Lydia, he always
seemed to look out the window. What had happened to her common sense?
Apparently she might not have been pretty enough to tempt him at the assembly,
but her expressions were intriguing enough to draw his notice. But he
had
asked her to dance at the Netherfield Ball. What was she thinking? Men like Mr.
Darcy did not show interest in country girls with nothing in particular to
recommend them.  She must not read too much into his words, especially not
under the circumstances.

He rose and stirred the fire, then placed
another log on it. At least he did not appear to sway this time. “I wish I
could build it higher, but then there would not be enough wood to last through
the night. I will spread the bedroll in front of the hearth for you.”

“You are injured, and I will not have you
attempting to take care of me! I am perfectly able to manage the bedroll, and
you
shall sleep on it. I will be quite comfortable sitting on the hearth. Besides,
I would far rather freeze than have to face the responsibility of telling Miss
Bingley I allowed you to perish from the cold.” Not that she planned to sleep,
but there was no point in telling Mr. Darcy that.

He gave a snort of laughter. “Even though
that dire fate may lie before you, I cannot permit it. My injury is minor, and
I am still a gentleman.”

Men! Why must they always deny illness or
injury, and take on tasks even a child could see they were unsuited for? Rather
than argue, she took action, tugging at the bedroll to draw it nearer the fire.
Who would have thought a simple bedroll could be so heavy? Was it filled with
rocks?

Before she had managed to move it even a
foot, Mr. Darcy appeared by her side. At least he did not tell her to stop, but
instead pulled at it with her. Now it slid almost easily toward the fireplace.

Elizabeth watched as he wrestled with the
ties preventing it from unrolling. He paused, muttered under his breath, then
reapplied himself, without any apparent progress. Odd; it looked like a simple
knot, and certainly the owner of the cottage would not want a major task
untying it every night. Then she saw the tremor in his hands.

She leaned forward and placed her hand
over his. He stilled instantly, then slowly turned to look at her. “Sir, I have
great faith that under ordinary circumstances, you could tie and untie knots
far beyond my ability, but these are not ordinary circumstances, and it pains
me to watch your efforts. Pray permit me to make an attempt.”

For a moment she thought he would refuse,
but then he stepped back without a word. Before he could change his mind, she
reached past and quickly untied the bedroll. Free of its restraints, it
unfurled with unexpected rapidity, nearly bowling her over. She staggered back,
but strong hands caught her from behind. Fully unrolled, the bedroll stopped at
the toes of her boots, and Mr. Darcy was at her heels, his hands still gripping
her arms. Apparently his strength was less affected by his injury than his
dexterity.

With a breathless laugh, she said, “I had
not bargained for that. Feather ticks are simpler to manage. This adventure is
proving educational.” Educational. She hoped that sounded cool enough to defuse
the impropriety of her present position, able to feel a man’s warmth behind her
while a bed lay before her. Why had he not released her arms?

“I apologize I was unable to manage it.”
His voice sounded unusually hoarse. She hoped he was not sickening with a cold.
That was all they needed.

She looked down pointedly at his hand on
her arm, not that he would be able to see her gaze, and retreated into teasing.
“I am sadly disillusioned. I thought you capable of any task set before you no
matter how adverse the circumstances, and now I discover all it takes is nearly
freezing to death and a blow on the head to render you occasionally in need of
assistance. If it were not for the fact that building a fire is currently a
more beneficial skill than untying knots, I might have to dismiss you as merely
decorative and not useful.”

He peeled his fingers from her arms. “I do
not believe I have ever been described as decorative before.”

“There is always a first time.” She
slipped to the side, careful not to look at him as she spread the worn quilt
over the bedroll. “There. I suspect that is the best that can be done. I hope
you will be at least somewhat comfortable.”

“Miss Bennet, I cannot…”

She held her hand up to stop him. “Must we
play at ladies and gentlemen even in these circumstances, when there is no room
for either? You are injured; I am not, and neither of us is a fool. Pray, let
us be practical. The pallet is for you.” It had been such a long day, with too
many surprises. She did not have the energy to spare for this argument.

He was silent, his lips tight. At last he
said, “Very well, but if we are to be practical and not bound by the rules for
ladies and gentlemen, the logical solution is that we share the pallet. If we
each stay to the side, there is room enough for both of us.”

“I cannot share a bed with you!”

“If I planned to take advantage of you, I
could have done so at any point in these last few hours. If it will help, I
give you my word you will be completely safe.” His face was pallid in the
flickering firelight.

If she was too tired for this argument, he
must be at the end of his endurance. The simplest thing would be to agree with
his plan, then once he was asleep, she could escape to the safety of the chair.
Yes, that was the best solution. “Very well.” She did not look him in the eye.

“Thank you.” He dropped to sit on the edge
of the hearth, his exhaustion obvious, and gestured toward the pallet.
“Whenever you please.”

The sooner he rested, the better, so
Elizabeth began slowly unlacing her boots. It was a struggle to remove them, as
they were tight over her bulky borrowed stockings, but finally her feet were
free. Her hair was a more difficult problem. She could not lie down even for a
few minutes while it was up, at least not unless she wished to have sharp
hairpins jabbing her scalp. It would be a terrible mess by morning in any case.
Resolutely she turned her back on Mr. Darcy, then removed the hairpins and
plaited her hair in record time, without bothering to remove the ribbons
braided through it. That was as much preparation for bed as she could manage
without stripping down to her shift, and that was not going to happen. 

She padded back to the pallet, pausing
beside it to remove a piece of straw which poked through her stocking. “I
promise I will never again take the smooth floors at Longbourn for granted!” she
said, but when she looked up, her mouth grew dry.

Mr. Darcy sat on a corner of the pallet in
his shirtsleeves, only his waistcoat covering the fine linen. Frowning, no
doubt at her shocked expression, he said brusquely, “My apologies, Miss
Elizabeth. The current fashion in tailcoats favors style over comfort, and to
be practical, it will be more useful as an extra layer to go over the quilt.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Of course.” It
was not as if her appearance were proper, either; she no doubt looked quite
disreputable without shoes and with her hair in a plait. At least she need not
worry about attracting the wrong sort of interest from him in her current
disheveled state! “Perhaps I should check your injury once more before you
sleep.”

To her surprise, he smiled. “I shall not
waste my energy arguing, since you will no doubt insist in any case.” He turned
his face away so the wound faced her.

“I am glad to know you are educable,” she
said tartly, but she breathed easier without his dark eyes on her. Parting his
hair with her fingers, she peered at the lesion by the dim firelight. “It
appears to have crusted over, and no more blood is oozing out.”

“I hope you are satisfied,” he said dryly.

His hair was silky against her fingers as
she released it. “I would hate to leave bloodstains on our absent host’s
bedding.”

“Indeed.” He gestured to the side of the
pallet between him and the fire.

Of course he would insist on her taking
the warmer spot. Unfortunately, his gentlemanly act made it difficult to hide
her flaming cheeks as she lowered herself into that space. This was without
question the most shocking thing she had ever done, and with him in his
shirtsleeves! It made her painfully aware of how near her own low neckline was
to him, and she hastily tugged the quilt over her and up to her chin.

The scent of musk mingled with smoke as he
spread his topcoat over her. It was an almost indecent intimacy, lying beneath
his clothing. Squeezing her eyes shut, Elizabeth muttered, “I thank you.”

She felt his weight settling on the pallet
beside her. How many inches lay between them? Despite his bold assertion that
there was plenty of room for both of them, she knew it had been said only to
ease her concerns. Like everything else in this hut, the pallet was no bigger than
it needed to be. She tried to still her breathing, not wishing to expose her
embarrassment. If only he would fall asleep, she could escape this position.

“Sleep well, Miss Elizabeth.” His voice
was unusually gentle.

“A quiet night to you as well,” she muttered.

***

Darcy closed his eyes, knowing perfectly
well that, despite his exhaustion, it would be insufficient to allow him to
fall asleep only inches from Elizabeth Bennet. He did not even wish to sleep;
that would mean missing this extraordinary experience. Naturally, he had done
the only gentlemanly thing and turned to face away from her, but even his
inability to see her did not lessen the impact of having her beside him.
Despite his headache and his earlier confusion, the evening together had only served
to draw him deeper into her thrall.

He had been Master of Pemberley for five
years, ruling over tenants and servants, and dictating the use of the estate.
But he had never felt as powerful as he had when Elizabeth confided her
difficulties with her friend Charlotte. Even if he could do nothing to help,
the mere fact she had trusted him so far was an unexpected gift. And her sweet
persistence in caring for him could easily become addictive.  At
Netherfield, she had tempted him, but it was nothing to this.

The sound of her even breathing was like
music. She was still awake, of course; no doubt it would take her some time to
overcome her discomfort with the situation enough to fall asleep. But she was
there beside him – Elizabeth Bennet, whom he had never expected to see
again.

How strange it was that she, of all the
people in Meryton, had been the one to discover him by the side of the road! It
must have been a sign. 

But that raised the ticklish question of
why
he had been on that road in the first place. There was nothing to draw him to
Meryton; Elizabeth was the only person there whose presence would have tempted
him, but he had already forsworn her. Had something changed? He could not
imagine anything which would have made him suddenly decide she would be a
suitable bride after all. That could not be it.