Chapter Five
When they reached Longbourn, Elizabeth retreated to her room to change out of her snow-dampened clothing into something dry—something, she refused to admit to herself, a little finer and more flattering.
The gown was a year out of date and not quite warm enough without a shawl, but all of her favorite garments had been packed and carried off with her relations.
When she returned to her guests in the drawing room, Mr. Darcy rose from his crouch beside the fireplace as the fire he had made slowly crackled to life.
She was astonished that he had not thought it beneath him, in the absence of any servants, and strangely impressed that he had accomplished it without any disturbance to his immaculate appearance.
He bowed, looking rather proud of himself. “Miss Elizabeth, I admire your courage and I appreciate your generous invitation, but perhaps instead you would accept an invitation from my sister—you would be safer accompanying us back to London.”
Georgiana eagerly clapped her hands. “Oh, yes! What a fine idea!”
For a minute, Elizabeth was utterly speechless.
Mr. Darcy did admire her—his sister had said so before realizing whom she was addressing.
There could be no room for misunderstanding, not when Georgiana’s reaction had only made it more apparent.
The way the girl was looking between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth at present was making it very apparent—and very difficult for Elizabeth to doubt.
It was impossible, inconceivable, improbable, and most inconvenient.
But this was not the only unlikely and untimely shock of the day, and Elizabeth forced her mind to focus on the greater matter. “I will not leave Longbourn for those villains to plunder as they choose.”
“You could remove anything of value and bring it with us for safekeeping in London,” Georgiana suggested.
“And vex them enough to put Longbourn to the torch when their avarice is thwarted?” Elizabeth shook her head and folded her arms in front of her chest.
“Surely they would not….”
“I can hardly say what they are capable of,” Elizabeth snarled.
“But I know my own mind, and I will not be frightened out of my own home. Besides, Mrs. Hill means to bring her children and stay below stairs so that she can do some cleaning while attending to her injured son. How could I leave them here, defenseless?”
“You did say her son knows how to shoot a gun,” Georgiana reminded her.
Mr. Darcy sighed and gave a beleaguered shake of his head. “I am sure we could transport them to safety, as well, if you would not burden them with the defense of your home.”
“Unless you can transport Longbourn itself, you will not persuade me to leave. You need not stay, if you do not wish to, but I certainly shall. There is some merit, surely, in my notion of using Papa’s pistol to….”
“To shoot a man? Several men, in fact.” Mr. Darcy took a step closer and stared Elizabeth down, his brows raised in challenge. She lifted her chin in defiance before giving a curt nod of her head. “Miss Elizabeth, this is no small thing.”
“I never said it was! Indeed, I should like to believe I would not have fainted in the snow over a small thing,” Elizabeth protested.
“But I refuse to be frightened of those brutes. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me, and the colonel has essentially issued a direct challenge which I shall not allow to cow me.”
As the discerning Mrs. Annesley discreetly led Georgiana toward the door, Mr. Darcy began to pace and ran his hands down his face in frustration.
“Obstinate, headstrong woman! On my honor as a gentleman, I cannot leave you here alone and in danger, and neither can I expose my sister to that same peril, and to the very wastrel who….”
“Your honor as a gentleman!” Elizabeth took a few steps closer and then stopped, staring up at him. Silence hung in the air until it was replaced by the tinkling of the pianoforte across the hall in the small parlor.
Mr. Darcy appeared not to notice the music.
His thunderous expression was not unlike how he had appeared on the day he first saw Mr. Wickham in Meryton.
She had believed the latter when he claimed to have been mistreated by Mr. Darcy—purely because Elizabeth had thought herself just as ill used by the man who called her barely tolerable.
But Mr. Darcy admired her, or so his sister believed.
And Elizabeth did believe Georgiana’s assertion that Mr. Wickham had done their family some harm.
The blackguard wished to do Elizabeth’s family considerable harm in scheming with the other wretched officers.
Everything she knew seemed turned upside-down.
She had accused Mr. Darcy of cruelty, indifference, and snobbery—and yet his present concern for her predicament showed quite the reverse, even if she could not agree with his solution to her problem.
The cloud of confusion swirling in her mind seemed to mock her as he moved to stand before her; had he always been so handsome?
Had she ever noticed his eyes were so very blue?
She stared up at him, furious with herself for thinking of him in such a way, at a moment like this, and unable to resist wondering what he might have said about her to his sister to give Georgiana the impression that her brother had formed an attachment.
Then again, perhaps she had misunderstood; perhaps, like Jane, Georgiana was far too disposed to see the best in others. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking.
Mr. Darcy heaved a ragged breath, but spoke in a throaty whisper. “Miss Elizabeth, I am trying to help you. How could I face your family if I allowed some mischief to befall you?”
“With the same disdain as ever,” Elizabeth spat.
“And I am Miss Bennet now that Jane has married Mr. Bingley.” She smiled savagely up at him, imagining how it must rankle him that his friend had married her sister.
Her fury faltered for a moment. He had never been overtly unkind to Jane, nor any of her relations.
He had frequently looked mortified by her mother’s indiscretion and occasional vulgarity, as well as Lydia’s boisterousness—but Elizabeth was far from innocent of such reactions herself.
She felt her cheeks flush as she recalled the embarrassment they had caused her on more than one occasion in Mr. Darcy’s company…
because she had privately desired his good opinion.
“Miss Bennet,” he said huskily. His countenance, which was ever a mask of indifference, now plainly showed that her caustic words had wounded him.
He had come to stand near enough that she might easily reach out and touch him; her fingers twitched at her sides.
Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip nervously, wondering why she was so angry, why she was so affected by his proximity, unable to move either closer or further away—and why she hoped that his sister was not mistaken about his feelings for her.
Above all, she wondered how it could be possible that she wished to rail at him, to pound her fists into his broad chest and scream, and yet she also desired to throw herself into his arms and weep.
His eyes dropped to her lips and then down her body, his breath shaking as his hands moved toward hers, brushing her fingers into his grasp until they curled around his of their own volition.
Elizabeth let out a faint gasp as his eyes met hers once again, searing into her until she forgot how to speak.
She knew she ought to say something, for she had repaid his kindness only with petulance, and now found that she had no wish to spoil the sudden novelty of having his good opinion.
Her lips parted as she tilted her head back to peer up at him.
Mr. Darcy stood so close that she was afraid to move, afraid he would resume his taciturn propriety; her fingers tightened around his.
Again his gaze washed over her, and this time his head dipped closer to her.
And then he stilled. Just as Elizabeth realized she would not protest if he were to kiss her, Mr. Darcy stepped backward and ran his hands through his hair, his distress drawing her back into their dreadful predicament.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I—you are in distress. I ought not to have lost my temper.”
Elizabeth began speaking at the same moment as Mr. Darcy. “Forgive me, I am only greatly distressed—I should not have spoken so harshly.”
They both began to laugh nervously. “Once again my temper has gotten the better of me,” Elizabeth sighed, only partially in jest.
“Again?”
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said, wondering if she had really taken leave of her senses.
It occurred to her that perhaps he would not be surprised at all to know just how absurd her family was.
It might also prove to be a blessing, if his contempt prevented any recurrence of what had almost passed between them.
Even so, her cheeks flushed warm with shame.
“I was rather churlish the day before my family departed for Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth admitted, fidgeting as she stared out the window at the snow swirling in the breeze as it fell.
“I was cross about Charlotte and Jane both being wed, and my little cousins were ten times as noisy and wild as my younger sisters, if you can imagine such a great din, and I finally told them all off. In the morning when I woke, they were gone. I fear I was so awful that they left me behind as a punishment, not in some hasty error.”
The pity was written plainly on his face; she had liked it better when she thought him devoid of every proper feeling.
“You cannot think they would be so cruel. Your elder sister is too tender-hearted, and I am sure she returns your devotion. She would not allow it, and neither would Bingley. And your mother… clearly loves all her children too much to do such a thing.”