Mr. Darcy's Refuge (5 page)

“Yes, sir.” The maid scurried off to do his bidding.

Elizabeth turned slowly to face him. She had not noted his appearance earlier, but he certainly lacked his usual impeccable style. The coat he wore, made for the heavier Mr. Collins, hung off his shoulders, and his cravat was limp. She hardly thought that ironing his clothing was a matter of the highest priority in a situation such as this, but apparently it was to a man of such pride and vanity. “So you are returning to Rosings, then?” she said.

“No. Lady Catherine can be of no help to us here. It would take a day, if not more, to reach Rosings. I would have to ride most of the way to London to go around the floods. I am going to Tunbridge Wells. They will not refuse credit to Lady Catherine’s nephew, but I will need to look the part if I am to convince them.” He looked down ruefully at his rumpled appearance.

She quickly revised her opinion of his foolish vanity. “It will be a long trip for you if the rain begins again.”

He shrugged, his lips thinning. “There is no other choice - for either of us,” he said pointedly. “You will, of course, have to accompany me. I regret the necessity of exposing you to the elements.” He did not have to add that he regretted exposing her to himself as well; it was clear in his expression.

“I have stayed here without Mr. and Mrs. Collins before, and there is no reason why I cannot do so again,” she said sharply.

“It is not the absence of your cousins but the presence of so many strangers that is the difficulty. Regardless of what you may think of me, I cannot and will not leave you here unprotected, so either we both go to Tunbridge Wells or we both remain here while all these good people go hungry tonight. The choice is yours. I have asked for Mr. Collins’s mare to be saddled for you.”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I am not a horsewoman, sir.”

“You
can
ride, I assume.”

“A little. I have no particular skill in that regard. Could we not take the cart?”

“The cart is stuck axle deep in the mud less than a mile from here. Horseback seems our only option.”

“Then I had best tend to my own appearance.” Elizabeth touched her half-fallen hair. “I discovered this morning why four-year-old girls are never hired as lady’s maids, but Jenny did enjoy playing the role.” For a moment she thought he was starting to smile, but then it turned into a frown. “Were you able to discover anything about her parents?”

“Her father was last seen trying to free the mill-wheel. Her mother and brother were carried off in the flood. She has an aunt who is in service at Rosings and an older brother, thought to be twelve or thirteen years old, who is apprenticed to a miller near London. One of the women has agreed to take her in until her aunt can be contacted, but until she can be moved, it seems a moot point.”

It was what she had expected, but Elizabeth felt a deep pang for the bright-eyed girl who would never see her parents again. She wondered who would tell her the sad truth.

Mr. Darcy tugged at the loose cuffs of the coat he wore, examining them as if they were of great interest. “In any case, we should leave soon if we are to have food here by nightfall. Can you be ready in half an hour?”

She hesitated, then said, “I do have one question. Why are you doing this? You have no responsibility for these people.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “
Why
am I doing this?”

“Yes, why? You cannot possibly wish to ride to Tunbridge Wells in the rain, especially in my company, yet you insist upon it.”

“It is my
duty
, madam.” His voice was icy. “Did you think I would shirk it? No, please do not answer that. I would rather not know. Even your dear friend, George Wickham, will tell you that I
always
do my duty. It is a characteristic, I believe, that he holds in some scorn.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I did not mean to imply anything of the sort. I have never seen you show such interest in the welfare of those so far beneath you. That is all.”

He seemed not to have heard her. “Of course, I have many habits he holds in scorn. I pay my debts. I speak the truth, even when I would rather not. I do not gamble more than I can afford to lose. I do not take advantage of young women with no one to protect them. I have no doubt that George Wickham would find an excuse to sit indoors and drink all your cousin’s brandy rather than ride in the rain in search of food, but
I
will not. These people are my aunt’s tenants, and in her absence, I am responsible for them – and for you. Whether I
like
it or not is irrelevant.”

Elizabeth felt as if she had stepped off the edge of a precipice with no idea of what lay below. She had never seen Darcy – or anyone, for that matter – in such a cold rage. She would not have been surprised to see icicles forming around him, but she would not let him intimidate her, so she met his eyes steadily.

He had the grace to flush. “I will see you in half an hour, madam.” He turned on his heel without even a proper bow and left the room.

Chapter 4

Darcy discovered quickly that Elizabeth was not being modest when she described herself as a poor rider. Her back was ramrod straight, but given the death grip she had on the pommel of the sidesaddle, it was more likely out of fear rather than an attempt at proper posture. He had already instructed her twice to give the mare more slack on the reins, and again she was making the horse restive by pulling them too tight. If she continued to sit that way, she would be stiff and sore tomorrow. She would need to improve her seat when… he cut off the train of thought before it could begin. It was better not to even think of the future.

At least the rain had stopped for the moment. The road was in sorry shape, pitted with mudholes and covered in deep puddles whenever it dipped into the valley, but it was passable. No doubt it added to Elizabeth’s anxiety, though. His own horse was sure-footed, but Darcy kept a close eye on the mare who had stumbled more than once.

He could not believe he had lost his temper with her yet again this morning. There had been a few hours last evening when he had thought they had a happy future ahead of them, and he had been shaken into fury that night when he discovered his error. As he lay sleepless in Mr. Collins’s bed, he had resolved that in the morning he would calmly explain the truth about George Wickham to Elizabeth, and she would see reason. But when he finally had a moment to speak to her alone, it had taken only one ill-timed question from her to turn him into a raging beast again. His goals were more modest now. Maintaining a distant politeness seemed the best he could hope for.

It took over two hours to travel the five miles to the town, which they spent in silence apart from his occasional suggestions about her riding. He had taken his cue from her when she came downstairs ready to travel, but apparently quite unable to look in his direction or to say more than a bare minimum for the sake of civility. The pathetic thing was that it had
hurt
that she would avoid dealing with him. How much a fool could he be?

Once they reached the turnpike road at the top of the ridge, the last mile went quickly, and for the first time since leaving the parsonage, they seemed to have reached an area unaffected by the flooding. Coaches passed them going in both directions, and Darcy was acutely aware of the stares they were receiving from some of the passengers. Fortunately, Elizabeth seemed not to notice that she was the recipient of most of them, riding Mr. Collins’s swaybacked mare beside his own thoroughbred hunter. He hoped no one would recognize him.

In town, Elizabeth finally seemed to take an interest in the surroundings, peering down lanes of workshops and houses. Darcy found the way to the provisions shop that the maid had recommended without difficulty. At least Elizabeth was willing to accept his help in dismounting; that was something, he supposed.

***

Darcy found Elizabeth looking over shelves hung with dried herbs. “We have a little time while they load the saddlebags. Would you care to stroll the Parade while we wait? There is a colonnaded walkway if the rain should start again.”

To his surprise, she gave him one of her bewitchingly arch smiles. “That would be lovely.”

What had changed her mood? Raising an eyebrow, he gestured toward the door. He decided it would be wisest not to offer her his arm, given the likelihood that she might refuse it. “It is just around the corner.”

She cocked her head. “Well, sir, you have convinced me of one thing.”

“What is that?” He hoped she was teasing, whatever it was.

“You are not in the habit of asking for credit.”

“Was it so obvious?”

She paused, her eyes sparkling even if her face was solemn. “Three repetitions of the name of Lady Catherine de Bourgh would likely have been sufficient to establish your credentials, but no doubt a dozen were even more effective.”

He bowed slightly. “I shall keep that in mind if the occasion should ever arise again.”

They entered into the Parade. Elizabeth, unlike most ladies of his acquaintance, seemed to take more interest in the elegant architecture than the shop windows filled with Tunbridgeware and other luxury goods. She seemed oblivious to the fashionably dressed ladies and gentlemen enjoying the promenade.

She said, “One would not even know that people have lost their homes to the flood, yet we are only a few miles from Hunsford.”

“The town caters to those who wish to take the waters and to partake of polite society. They would not wish any ugliness to enter here.”

She gave him a surprised look, then seemed caught by something in a shop window. “Would you mind if I looked in this shop?”

“Not at all,” he said automatically. It was a stationer’s shop, and he wondered what interested her there. He held the door open for her. Not wishing to hover, he pretended interest in a display of inlaid wooden boxes while Elizabeth spoke to a clerk and pointed to a section of toys. She rejoined him a few minutes later carrying a wrapped package.

“For Jenny?” he asked.

She nodded. “She was telling me about her doll that had to be left behind. She put it in the rafters of her house and hasn’t seen it since. I thought she would need something to hug.” Her voice caught slightly on the last word.

Darcy was seized by a lunatic urge to grab her hands and beg her to marry him. He was saved by a clap of thunder that made them both turn immediately toward the window. A few raindrops splattered on the glass, and then started to beat a fierce tattoo against the paving stones.

Elizabeth sighed deeply. “Our good travel weather appears to be at an end.”

Darcy looked at the pelisse Elizabeth was wearing, then out at the downpour. “It would be best if you stayed here while I see if the horses are ready.”

“It hardly matters. I will be soaked sooner or later in any case.”

“Perhaps the rain will stop by then.” It was not a lie, at least not technically. Anything was possible in this weather.

She gave him a limpid look of disbelief. “Perhaps so.”

***