Chapter 10 A Roadside Encounter #2
Darcy nodded stiffly, gesturing toward his carriage while instructing his driver to secure the ladies’ bags, noting that Elizabeth only carried a small valise.
Even though the situation was suspect, he could not abandon a gentleman’s daughter to the elements, regardless of his discomfort in her presence
As he handed Elizabeth into the carriage, her gloved fingers resting momentarily upon his, Darcy felt a spark that made his fingers twinge.
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she withdrew her hand hastily.
The color enhanced her already considerable beauty, bringing life to features tired from travel.
Darcy gazed a moment too long before he recollected himself and turned to offer the same courtesy to Mrs. Younge, though with considerably less enthusiasm.
The seating arrangement presented an immediate dilemma.
His traveling carriage afforded comfortable accommodation for four, with facing benches upholstered in fine burgundy leather.
Etiquette demanded he take the forward-facing seat, but that would place him directly opposite Elizabeth, forced to meet those disconcertingly perceptive eyes for the entire journey.
“Perhaps you would prefer to face forward, Miss Bennet,” he suggested stiffly. “Ladies often find backward travel disagreeable.”
“How thoughtful,” Mrs. Younge interjected before Elizabeth could respond. “Miss Bennet has indeed mentioned some discomfort. I shall join her, of course.”
This arrangement would place both women opposite him, and his jaw tightened at Mrs. Younge’s presumption.
Elizabeth settled herself against the window, arranging her skirts with the natural grace that seemed to accompany even her most mundane movements. “Your carriage is most comfortable, Mr. Darcy,” she offered, an obvious attempt to break the tension that had settled between them.
“Comfort is necessary for distance.” He immediately regretted the dull response.
Vernon, his man of business, entered last, offering a respectful nod to the ladies before taking his place beside Darcy.
The carriage shifted slightly as the driver secured the luggage, then again as he mounted the box.
The confined space seemed to shrink further as the doors were closed, trapping them in a bubble of awkward silence punctuated only by the drumming of rain against the roof.
“I understand we’re bound for the Hare and Hounds at Matlock,” Vernon said, mercifully interrupting the silence. “A respectable establishment, I believe?”
“Quite,” Darcy confirmed, grateful for his employee’s social grace. “Though I have not stayed there myself.”
“Will you gentlemen be stopping over as well?” Mrs. Younge inquired. “The weather seems determined to worsen.”
“We shall continue directly to Pemberley after escorting you to the inn,” Darcy replied firmly. “My household is accustomed to my arrival at all hours.”
Mrs. Younge’s expression shifted to one of exaggerated concern.
“Oh dear. I had rather hoped… that is, I fear Miss Bennet may not have sufficient funds for both the inn and hiring another post-chaise tomorrow.” Her gaze drifted pointedly to Elizabeth.
“Our journey has been more costly than anticipated, has it not, my dear?”
Elizabeth stiffened, color flooding her cheeks. “I assure you, Mrs. Younge, I am perfectly capable of securing a stagecoach tomorrow. Your concerns, while appreciated, are unnecessary.”
“A stagecoach?” Mrs. Younge’s laugh held a brittle edge. “After the discomfort I have endured on your behalf? I must say, Miss Bennet, our arrangement has proven far more… taxing than the compensation provided.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with what appeared to be genuine alarm. “Mrs. Younge, I—”
“Perhaps,” Darcy interjected, unable to bear Elizabeth’s evident discomfort despite his better judgment, “it would be more practical for my carriage to convey you directly to Lambton. It lies on our route to Pemberley.”
Mrs. Younge’s expression transformed immediately to one of gratified triumph, though she quickly masked it with demure appreciation. “How extraordinarily generous, Mr. Darcy. We would be most grateful, would we not, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth’s face had paled, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat. “I would not wish to impose further on Mr. Darcy’s kindness.”
“It is no imposition,” Darcy heard himself saying, though every instinct warned against deeper entanglement in whatever scheme was unfolding. “As Mrs. Younge observes, Lambton lies on our route to Pemberley.”
“Then it is settled,” Mrs. Younge declared with the air of someone who had achieved a significant victory. “How fortunate that we encountered you on the road, Mr. Darcy. Providence truly does work in mysterious ways.”
Elizabeth’s gaze met Darcy’s briefly, a complex mixture of gratitude and apprehension in her dark eyes before she turned her attention to the rain-streaked window. The set of her shoulders conveyed a tension that belied Mrs. Younge’s satisfaction.
The carriage lurched forward, causing Elizabeth to brace herself against the sudden movement.
Her gloved hands gripped the seat edge, revealing the delicate bones of her wrists where her sleeve had slid back.
Darcy found his gaze fixed on this small revelation of skin before he forced himself to look away, focusing instead on the rain-blurred landscape outside his window.
Elizabeth shifted in her seat, her knee momentarily brushing against his before she quickly withdrew it. “Forgive me,” she murmured, her eyes darting to his before looking away.
“No matter,” Darcy managed, suddenly aware of the confinement. The space that had seemed adequate for solitary travel now felt suffocatingly intimate, particularly when Elizabeth’s subtle fragrance competed with Mrs. Younge’s cloying perfume.
Darcy wondered, not for the first time, what circumstances had brought Elizabeth Bennet into such company, and what awaited her in Lambton.
Though he had intended merely to offer temporary assistance to travelers in distress, propriety now dictated more substantial intervention.
She was, after all, the daughter of a gentleman, not yet one-and-twenty, and traveling under highly questionable circumstances.
Had her parents sanctioned this journey?
He doubted Mr. Bennet would approve of his daughter traveling in Mrs. Younge’s company.
The young lady was undoubtedly headstrong and stubborn—a quality his mother had often attributed to him with exasperated sighs.
Miss Bennet had likely undertaken this ill-advised journey as an impulsive escape from Mr. Collins’s marriage proposal.
But did she comprehend the danger of her situation?
To be traveling with Mrs. Younge, a woman who had proven herself devoid of moral principle and closely aligned with Wickham’s schemes, placed her in a precarious position indeed.
What perplexed Darcy most was the absence of any discernible advantage for Wickham in this arrangement.
Unlike Georgiana, Elizabeth Bennet possessed neither fortune nor exceptional connections.
Hertfordshire gossip, relayed through Bingley’s sisters, suggested her dowry was negligible, and Longbourn, while respectable, hardly represented a sufficient prize to warrant such elaborate machinations.
The weight of responsibility settled upon him with unwelcome but familiar pressure. As a gentleman, he could not simply deposit Miss Bennet in Lambton without assurance of her safety, particularly when every aspect of her current situation suggested impropriety at best and danger at worst.