Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (4 page)

Perhaps he had gone on Bingley’s behalf,
on some errand he could not even imagine. What could he do for Bingley at
Netherfield?  Nothing, and from what Elizabeth had said, he was not even
on the correct road for Netherfield. It made no sense. 


An involuntary smile curved his
lips. Only one thing made sense, which was that Elizabeth was with him. That
was just as it ought to be.

Elizabeth awoke with unusual stiffness and
curled closer to Jane to share her warmth. But the body next to hers did not
smell of Jane’s rosewater, but of wood smoke, wet leather, and something
essentially male. Her eyes flew open, revealing fine white linen over a
distinctly masculine chest. Good Lord! She was entwined with Mr. Darcy! If her
heart pounded any harder, it might burst her chest.

She could not allow him to discover her in
this utterly compromising position. She would have to remove his arm that
surrounded her, holding her to his warmth, without awakening him. With the
utmost care, she slowly raised her chin until she could see his face. And his
eyes. Watching her.

Her throat constricted. Why was he looking
at her in that manner? So intent, so serious, so…she did not even have words
for it, but it made her feel quite odd. And he had not released her. What must
he be thinking of her? 

Sitting up so quickly it made her dizzy,
she scrambled backwards away from him. The shock of cold air once she was a few
feet from the hearth shook away any last vestiges of sleep, leaving her insides
quaking over what had just happened. If anyone had discovered them, she would
have been ruined or forced to marry Mr. Darcy. Which would be worse? At least
he would be as invested in keeping the incident a secret as she was. He would
not wish to be tied to a simple country gentleman’s daughter. But even if no
one else ever found out,
she
would still know, and nothing would ever be
the same.

With shaking hands she smoothed her
skirts, though they were wrinkled beyond any hope of presentability. Even her
plait had become partially undone, though her hair ribbons had miraculously
stayed in place. Nell must have used glue to keep them from sliding out! She
combed her hair with her fingers, then quickly twisted it into a simple knot,
all the while refusing even to look in Mr. Darcy’s direction. She could not
hope to play the part of a gentlewoman in her current condition.

“Have you any idea how delighted Miss
Bingley would be to find herself in your shoes this morning?” Mr. Darcy’s deep
voice from behind her made her jump.

She turned to discover he still lay on the
pallet, though he was now propped up on one elbow. It was frighteningly
intimate to see him so different from his usual formal self. Her cheeks grew
hot. “I did not plan it. I was completely unaware of where I was.”

“I know that.” He sounded perfectly
reasonable, as if this were a conversation about the weather over the breakfast
table. “Although other women have tried, I cannot imagine
you
attempting
to entrap me.” He held out his hand to her. Could he possibly be trying to
invite her back to bed?

Her fingernails bit into her palms. “I
have no expectations of you, beyond that you will never breathe a word of this
to anyone.”

“You may depend upon my discretion, of
course, but I know my responsibilities as well as you do.”

“Then I release you from those
responsibilities. As long as no one knows we were both here, no harm has been
done.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The fact you have
been away overnight is damaging already.”

It did not matter whether it was true or
not. She had no intention of being trapped in a marriage with a husband who
regretted his choice every day of his life. “My fondness for long walks is well
known, and no one would be surprised if I sought shelter until the storm
passed. Most likely many people were stranded in Meryton by the snow. Everyone
will assume I was one of them.” She turned away to signal the conversation was
over.

Why was he so calm about the idea of
marrying her? It made no sense. Either she must be dreaming or he was still
suffering from the blow to his head. In his normal state, she had no doubt Mr.
Darcy would be furious at being forced to marry an impertinent country nobody.
He should consider himself fortunate to be with one of the few women who had no
desire to take advantage of the situation. Good Lord, married to Mr. Darcy! Her
shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

It was imperative they leave this place as
soon as possible, preferably separately. Bracing herself for the chill, she
approached the window. It was completely frosted over, allowing only a weak
light through. She scratched at the frost, then blew on it to clear a peep
hole. Her shoulders slumped at the sight of white clouds of snow still falling.
Deep drifts of snow covered everything in the small area she could make out.
There would be no escape from Mr. Darcy yet.

***

Puzzled, Darcy allowed his hand to drop.
What was wrong with Elizabeth? Surely she understood what must be done. Why was
she not pleased? After all, he was a finer match than she could have dreamed of
making.

Ah, perhaps that was it. She understood
only too well the gulf between their positions and how inappropriate it was for
her to aspire to enter the sort of circles he frequented, and wished to spare
him the embarrassment of making such a match. Dearest Elizabeth! What other
woman would think of
his
position at a time like this?

He stretched like a satisfied cat,
conscious of the empty space beside him which had once been Elizabeth’s warm
body. He should have taken advantage of the opportunity to kiss her before she
ran off. His lips still ached with the desire to do so. But it was no longer a
hopeless desire. Once she overcame her skittishness, he could kiss her as often
as he pleased – and it would please him to do so as often as possible. He
smiled at the thought.

After all, fate was smiling on
him
today. Elizabeth Bennet was no longer out of his reach, and at the same time,
no one could blame him for marrying so far beneath him. She had saved his life,
and in doing so, hopelessly compromised herself. He was not degrading himself
by proposing to her, but doing the only honorable thing. People would respect
him for that, rather than laughing at his poor judgment in falling victim to
the wiles of a girl far beneath him. They might still laugh at Elizabeth, but
that would not matter. She would be his. 

He pushed the tattered quilt away. Damn,
but it was cold in this tiny place! His sleep-stiffened muscles protested as he
moved to stir what little remained of the coals. Setting one of the last logs
on top of it, he carefully nursed the flames to life. As he did so, a gust of
wind rattled the small building. Apparently the storm had not yet spent all its
fury.

“I take it the snow continues,” he said.

Elizabeth jumped at his words. “Apparently
so.” Her voice was lifeless.

“No doubt it will die down soon,” he said
reassuringly, though he was in no hurry for such an event. This cottage might
be uncomfortable, but once they left it, he would have to surrender Elizabeth to
the demands of propriety until such a time as they were married. He intended to
enjoy this opportunity to have her to himself.

***

Elizabeth took one last look at the snow
outside the window. There was nothing to do but to make the best of it. Rubbing
her arms, she checked her pelisse. Still wet through. She would have
appreciated its warmth, not to mention the extra distance it would allow
between her and Mr. Darcy.

Since Mr. Darcy continued to lounge by the
fire, it was difficult to avoid looking at him as she refilled the open kettle
with the last of the water in the bucket, then hung it once again over the
fire. She was almost becoming accustomed to the shocking sight of him in his
shirtsleeves. After all, how could she be troubled by the sight of him in his
shirtsleeves when she had slept in those shirtsleeved arms only a short time
ago? A shiver travelled down her spine.

“Will no one think to confirm your story?”
His voice took her by surprise.

“My story?”

“That you were stranded somewhere,
presumably alone.”

“Most likely not, in all the chaos.
Besides, even if someone learned you were here as well, you are the last man
anyone would suspect of compromising me.”

“Why is that?” He had the effrontery to
sound puzzled.

She gritted her teeth. Was he truly going
to force her to say this? “Everyone already knows you do not find me handsome
enough to tempt you.”

“Not handsome enough…Why on earth would
they think
that
?”

His incredulity only annoyed her further.
“Because
you
said so. At the assembly in Meryton where we first met.
Pray do not attempt to deny it. I was there and heard you say it. My vanity
easily withstood the blow of not pleasing you, but as it is not my favorite
topic of conversation in the world, let us say nothing more of it.”

Mortified by her admission, she turned to
the cabinet which served as the pantry and began to rummage through it, more to
get away from him than out of hunger. It was bad enough to be forced to repeat
what he had said, but she did not care to see the reality of it in his face.
Truth be told, his slight still stung. There had been gentlemen who had shown
no interest in her before, but none had ever spoken of her in such a manner to
her face.

Searching through the cabinet was unlikely
to reveal something new which had appeared miraculously since the previous
night. Choosing two more apples and some of the stale bread, she dumped them
unceremoniously on the plate in front of the hearth. If Mr. Darcy wished for
something to drink, he could fetch it himself. She was not his serving maid.

Nor were her labors appreciated,
apparently. He ignored both her offerings and herself, looking anywhere but at
her. Had she actually managed to embarrass the proud and imperturbable Mr.
Darcy?

“I did not mean it,” he said flatly,
apparently speaking to the fire.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I did not mean it!” he snapped.

“What did you not mean? The offer to
restore my honor? That is hardly a surprise.”

“Not that! I
did
mean that.” He
raked his fingers through his hair. “What I said at the assembly. It was not
true. I do not recall saying it, but if I did, I was most likely trying to get
rid of someone who wanted to speak to me.”

Was he actually trying to apologize? It
was more likely she was still asleep and dreaming. “Truly, sir, it is a matter
of indifference to me.” She did her best to sound bored with the subject.

“Surely you know… After all, you were the
only woman I asked to dance at the Netherfield ball.”

“What do I know?” She had moved from
exasperation to bewilderment.

“That I found you too handsome for my
peace of mind!” His gaze was more adversarial than admiring.

“Oh, come now. This is ridiculous! I do
not know what you are playing at, but I wish you would stop.”

“You are not the only one to wish I would
stop.” He pulled his overcoat around him and fastened the buttons. “Miss
Bingley knew it, and she did not like it at all.” He stomped to the door and
wrenched it open, letting a whirlwind of snow in.

“Where are you going? You cannot possibly
reach town!”

“I am going to find a woodpile so we do
not freeze to death today!” He slammed the door shut behind him.

Elizabeth shook her head in bewilderment.
What a strange man! Did he think her so wounded by his words at the assembly
that he needed to create such a story? It was ridiculous. Was he trying to mock
her? She would have to ask Mr. Wickham the next time they met. He might
understand what Mr. Darcy meant, and why her statement had made him so angry.

A shadow crossed beyond the window. She
rubbed a spot clear again, enough to see Mr. Darcy, his arms wrapped around
himself and his head bent down, slowly pacing the space near the cottage. Had
she seen a woodpile when she had walked past the cottage the first time? She
could not recall, and by the time they had reached its shelter yesterday, it would
already have been blanketed in snow.

What if he found no wood? Her gaze flew to
the hearth and the two small pieces of firewood remaining next to it. Those
would not last long. It might be enough if the snow stopped soon, but if it
continued, the cottage might become very cold indeed. She did not even dare
think of the possibility the storm might persist until it was too late to
depart. At this time of year, the sun went down early, and they could not leave
without a good two hours of daylight left.

***

Darcy kicked yet another snowdrift as if
his worst enemy lay behind it. Nothing under this drift, either. Devil take it,
what kind of fellow would hide a woodpile? An idiot, that was it. Almost as
much of an idiot as he was, to be stranded with Elizabeth Bennet in a storm. As
he kicked away the snow again, he yelped in pain as his boot contacted
something solid. Perhaps this was finally it! But when he bent to brush off the
snow, he found only another of the paving stones that had tripped Elizabeth the
previous day. Why had he ever returned to this miserable corner of
Hertfordshire?

He trudged on, the ache in his toes
reminding him not to take out his anger with his foot this time. How could
Elizabeth possibly think he found her unattractive? He had thought himself so
obvious, had worried about raising impossible expectations…and on the subject
of impossibility, why in God’s name did she not jump at the chance to be
Mistress of Pemberley? Any other woman would have been thrilled at the
opportunity. What was the matter with her?