The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (10 page)

Silence stretched between them as the horses continued at a sedate trot. Although Elizabeth had made light of the situation, he could not help but dwell on the impropriety: unrelated single men and women should never travel together. If word of this journey reached England, everyone would assume he had compromised her and her father would demand that Darcy marry her. That would not be such a bad fate as far as Darcy was concerned. But, no, he did not desire her consent under those circumstances. He could not imagine her reaction to be coerced in such a way, but it would not be good.

What was her true reaction to traveling with him? She had joked about it, but the humor could mask discomfort. Perhaps she had been uncomfortable when he took her hand. He cleared his throat. “I…apologize for the impropriety….I wish we could have brought Mrs. Radnor’s maid for your comfort.”

She gazed steadily at her hands clasped in front of her. “Please do not apologize again for circumstances beyond your control. I know you would never take advantage.”

She would not be so sanguine if she knew some of the fantasies I have had about her
, Darcy thought. Nevertheless he was touched that she voiced her trust of him so forthrightly and decisively.
Dare I hope her opinion of me is improving? Perhaps I now rank above a shopkeeper!
He smiled a little at the thought.

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth glanced at him questioningly.

“I had viewed our time in Paris as an opportunity to demonstrate my better nature,” he explained. “Instead I have displayed a talent for getting you alone.”

This brought no laughter from her, instead she seemed pensive. “On the contrary, I believe you have shown a loyalty and resourcefulness that are quite admirable. I could never have escaped Paris on my own.” Her compliments spread warmth throughout his body.

He smiled at her. “I should denigrate myself more often just for the pleasure of hearing you sing my praises. Perhaps I should describe myself as unpleasant and ugly?”

She laughed aloud at this until she was gasping for breath. “And to think I once believed you had no sense of humor!”
Her opinion of me
is
improving
, he thought happily. Hope surged through him.

“I am afraid you have not always seen me at my best,” he confessed, gazing steadily at the road.

He sensed her eyes were on his face. “I am beginning to understand that.” He turned slightly to gaze into her face. The intimacy of her tone made him shiver a little and her fine blue eyes were so captivating he thought he could never tear his away. Suddenly he wished that they were in a drawing room somewhere and not on a carriage seat where he could not gaze on her easily or take her in his arms.
Just as well I do not have the chance to do something foolish and impulsive
. For a moment he considered pulling the curricle to the side of the road so they could talk, but he knew they could not afford to waste time. He thought of the irony.
I have longed for a chance to get Elizabeth alone and uninterrupted, but not under circumstances such as these.

Several hours later, silence had fallen over the travelers. The sky was gray and overcast, suiting Elizabeth’s mood. Although the countryside was pretty enough, it was unvarying – mostly farmland – and she was weary of it. She watched Darcy’s large capable hands handle the reins and wished she could decipher the puzzle this man represented. Although his letter had compelled her to modify her worst opinions about him, she had still considered him proud and difficult. After all, his harsh words about her family had been heartfelt, if tactless – although she was forced to admit he had not been entirely wrong either.

When she had encountered him at the ball in Paris, he had been amiable, but still proud and reserved. Now, however, she was seeing a very different side of him. When not surrounded by other people, he was more quick-witted and relaxed. She was conscious not only of the honor of his attention, but also the depth of caring he exhibited for her. Although she liked to think of herself as independent and capable, she recognized that she had needed his help to escape Paris, and she found his devotion to her protection – even to the point of jeopardizing his life – somewhat thrilling. It filled her with warmth to think that he valued her that highly.

Her thoughts about him were quite different from what they had been when she had arrived in France. She no longer experienced anger or antipathy – or even wounded pride. In their place she felt admiration and affection, but was there more in her heart? She had never been in love. How did it feel?

Darcy’s hand brushed against her arm as he shifted on the hard wooden bench and again she felt that familiar tingle of electricity, a physical rush of energy that she had experienced with no other man. What did it mean? All of these questions were causing a headache; she rubbed her forehead with her hand.

She studied Darcy’s profile as he gazed intently at the road ahead. What did Darcy experience when their hands touched? Did he sense the same electricity? A little shiver passed through her. His proximity and sheer masculinity were a little intimidating, but also somewhat exciting.
What is happening to me?
I never used to have such thoughts!

When he had proposed at Hunsford, she had not believed that he truly loved her, rather he had seemed infatuated with a concept of how he wished she would be – if she were separated from her family. Recently, however, his constant devotion and sensitivity to her comfort had convinced her that his love for her was genuine. And his conversation had convinced her that he understood her far better than she had given him credit for.

She must take his affection seriously, but she had been more comfortable when it could be easily dismissed. What had she given him in exchange for his devotion? He had risked his life and reputation for a woman who had refused his proposal in an angry and insulting manner. Had Elizabeth even granted him hope that her opinion might change? Or shown him that it had already altered somewhat? Did he believe he was risking his life for a woman who would still angrily refuse him? She contemplated whether there was some way to demonstrate how her thoughts had changed.

Slowly and deliberately Elizabeth put her hand on the bench between her and Darcy. He did not seem to notice at once and it rested there a moment, but she discerned a slight stiffening in his posture. Then he unhurriedly placed his hand on top of hers. Elizabeth blushed and smiled, but did not turn toward him, unready for that step. Darcy had a small smile on his face as well, and – when she did not pull her hand away – he consolidated his hold by further intertwining her fingers with his. Elizabeth found the small gesture both thrilling and comforting.

Later in the afternoon their conversation turned to books, discovering that they shared many common interests in poetry, history, and the plays of Shakespeare. When they discussed contemporary novels, Darcy had some strong opinions about their value and they were not complimentary. While Elizabeth allowed that many novels were lurid or overly sentimental, she maintained that many were well worth reading. Darcy took the opposing view, apparently without having read many of the books in question.

When she discovered the potential conflict, Elizabeth said amiably, “Well, it appears we cannot agree on this point. Have you read the latest volume of Wordsworth?” Darcy was silent for so long Elizabeth feared she had offended him somehow. “Mr. Darcy?”

Her inquiry roused him from his reverie and he peered at her intently. “I have never known you to retreat from an argument before.”

“Are you asking me to quarrel with you?” She shifted on the unyielding wooden seat, thinking that every muscle in her body now ached like her head, and she had no energy for her usual verbal sparring.

“Not on principle. However I would hope you are frank with me when your opinions differ from mine.”

Elizabeth weighed her response for a moment before replying. “When I have been frank with you in the past, I have made some hurtful declarations. I have many sins to atone for.”

“Must you do so by agreeing with me?” An ironic smile quirked up one side of his mouth.

Elizabeth forced herself to think clearly through the fatigue that clouded her mind. “Earlier in Netherfield and Rosings, your good opinion did not matter to me.” His face darkened at this reminder and he shifted his gaze back to the dusty road. “Now it does. Furthermore, you are risking your life to save mine. Surely that deserves some consideration.”

“Find another way to show it.” The words came out almost as a growl. Now she was certain he was offended, but she reminded herself that she had misunderstood him before. His commanding ways did not always demonstrate disapproval.

“You truly wish me to disagree with you?”

“I wish to hear what you are truly thinking. I know you are capable of that.” He sighed, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I receive very little frankness from most of the people in my life.” She suddenly recalled that he did not regard Miss Bingley as worth arguing with.

“You wish to know what I truly think?” This conversation was important; she pushed herself to focus on it.

He suddenly seemed very wary, every muscle in his body tense, but he nodded. “Yes.”

“I think you are a very good man.” She could see his profile as he started a little and then turned to see if she was serious. They locked eyes for a moment, and then he gave a small smile.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

She shrugged. “You asked me to be honest.”

Silence fell between them for a few minutes. Elizabeth was quite eager to be quit of the carriage. As she adjusted her bonnet, her head felt too large and swollen all out of proportion. The sunlight was weak on a cloudy day, but it still seemed too bright to her. She had never experienced such a headache! Was it the weather? It had been cool and damp all day. Pressing at her temples, she wished she could somehow relieve the pressure in her head.

“All you well?” Darcy regarded her with concern.

“Just a headache.”

“We shall arrive at a small town in about an hour. Hopefully we can exchange these horses for fresh ones. Perhaps we may rest for an hour and obtain some tea.”

She nodded, but even that small movement hurt. What was wrong with her head? As her foggy brain pondered this question she felt the first fat raindrop land on her arm. “Oh dear!” She peered up at the low hanging clouds in dismay as the first drop was followed by a multitude of others. In a matter of minutes her clothes were soaked. She pulled her shawl around her head, but it provided little protection.

Darcy regarded her with alarm. “Please take my coat.” He made a move to shrug it off.

“No. Please, I cannot.”

“I insist. I also have a waistcoat and shirt. You have only a dress.”

“You are driving this carriage. Our well-being depends on your ability to guide the horses. My well-being is not so essential.”

“On the contrary, your well-being is absolutely vital,” he said through gritted teeth. She shook her head, but said nothing. He appeared about argue further, and she set her chin, waiting to counter his arguments, but he finally just sighed. “In town I will search out an inn where we can await the passing of the rain.” She nodded, attempting not to think about how cold and wet she was.

Darcy was growing increasingly concerned about Elizabeth. Over the past hour she had fallen into a kind of stupor, saying nothing and staring into space, only moving in occasional violent shivers. He recalled that Mrs. Radnor’s son had been ill and the maid Celeste had appeared unwell. Elizabeth could easily have contracted a fever or other illness – which the rain had then exacerbated.

He turned his gaze away from the endless road and toward Elizabeth. Her eyes were closed and her head was drooping, but he could not imagine she could sleep under such circumstances. Then, even as he watched, she began to sway alarmingly, coming perilously close to pitching off the edge of the high carriage seat. Putting the reins in one hand, he quickly flung the other arm around Elizabeth before she could topple out of the carriage altogether.

She awakened instantly. “Mr. Darcy!”

The last thing he needed was for her to believe he was taking liberties! “You were about to pitch off the seat. I believe you fell asleep.”

Her tense muscles relaxed a little under his arm. “It is possible, I am quite tired. I am not sure why.” She shivered violently. “It is so cold.” It had stopped raining, although the sky was still overcast; Darcy refrained from observing that it was a rather mild July day.

“Perhaps we should get rooms for the night at the next town.”

She brushed hair impatiently out of her eyes. “I thought we would attempt to reach to Calais today.”

“We have not made as good time as I had hoped – and the roads are now muddy. We are still quite a ways from Calais. It would be better if we rested and started fresh tomorrow.”

“But – “

“Miss Bennet, you require rest,” he said in his firmest voice.

“You are accustomed to people doing what you tell them. I can see.” Her smile took the barb out of her words.

“No…well…yes.” He smiled a little at her riposte. “However in this case I am correct. I believe you are ill.”