Chapter Five #2
Elizabeth might have reproached herself for thinking the worst of her family, but for the look on Mr. Darcy’s face as he rallied himself to say something generous about her mother. A strange laugh bubbled out of her throat. “I suppose it is a little less dismal to suppose I was merely forgotten.”
Mr. Darcy studied her for a moment. “You are hoping they will return for you.”
They had to. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself, imagining her home overrun by treacherous officers. She imagined her family at some inn, thinking only of how the weather would affect their journey, but content enough to be together without her sulking. Tears pricked at her eyes.
Mr. Darcy moved closer to her once again, this time offering his handkerchief to her. “Perhaps that is one reason you do not wish to leave Longbourn.”
Elizabeth nodded, her bottom lip beginning to quiver as the tears spilled down her cheeks.
She meant only to reach out and take the handkerchief he extended to her; Elizabeth knew not if he had moved to embrace her or if her body had acted on some instinct that evaded her mind, but in an instant she was weeping in his arms.
Darcy had no idea what to do. He slowly raised his arms as Elizabeth leaned against him, her body shaking as she wept.
He hesitated, wondering where to put his hands.
He laid them softly on her shoulders, felt horribly awkward for a moment, and then pulled her closer until the embrace felt natural.
He let out a sigh of relief that he had not managed to completely disgust her when he had almost kissed her, though it would have been an egregious breach of his morals to do such a thing when she was in such distress.
Even if he had desperately wished to do so. Even if, as he dared allow himself to believe, she had desired it, too. Even if it still took every ounce of self control he possessed not to kiss her even as she wept.
Instead he ran his fingers through her hair, gently stroking her head as he had briefly done when his valet had helped him put Elizabeth into his carriage.
Seeing her collapse into the snow had been one of the most heart-stopping, agonizing moments of his life, and it had been purely coincidence that he had happened upon her in time to keep her from any further harm.
The thought of what might have befallen Elizabeth made Darcy draw her closer still, and he indulged himself in taking one small liberty.
He nuzzled his face against the crown of her head, drinking in the scent of her.
Despite the looming predicament, it was an enchanting moment.
Elizabeth, whom Miss Bingley had once accused of ‘abominable, conceited independence,’ and whose tenacity and self-reliance he had long admired, was actually seeking comfort from him.
Though she had been disposed to assume the worst of him when last they met, though her opinion of him had been shaded by Wickham’s deceit, Elizabeth had invited him and his sister into her home.
And even though she had lashed out at him, her small hands now rested on his chest as she allowed him to hold her, and her sobs began to slow as he soothed her.
“You are not alone, Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered. “I shall not allow any harm to come to you.”
She let out one final sniffle and nodded her head against his chest before slowly withdrawing. As she wiped at her tear-streaked face, he again offered her his handkerchief. She accepted it with a weak smile. “Thank you. I hardly know what came over me.”
“You need not apologize.”
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as a playful grin began to tug at her lips. “Not even for speaking to you so abominably?”
“What did you say that I did not deserve?” Darcy offered her an apologetic smile.
He had been disdainful toward her family during his stay at Netherfield.
He was not feeling favorably disposed to them at present for leaving Elizabeth alone to face such peril, but he had been rude and aloof to them for no greater provocation than being chaotic, candid, and occasionally uncouth.
Sadness still lingered in Elizabeth’s eyes, and he considered what comfort she would get from the Bennets’ boisterous presence after such an arduous day.
She pursed her lips, her eyebrows quirking slightly as she rested a hand on her hip. “Here I had thought I had been too obstinate and headstrong.” Her last few words were spoken in a deeper voice meant to mock his own tone of reproach.
“Would you prefer I apologize, or shall I attempt to persuade you that such qualities are laudable indeed?” The words tumbled out before Darcy could consider them properly, but they elicited another smile from her.
“Say what you must, sir, to dissuade me from retrieving that pistol of my father’s,” Elizabeth quipped. The mirth had finally returned to her fine eyes, and she bit at her lip, as if relishing her own saucy wit.
Darcy had no talent for such banter, though he had gamely attempted it; fortunately, he was spared any further effort when Elizabeth suddenly looked past him, out the window, her attention diverted elsewhere.
She moved closer to the window, waving at someone.
“Mrs. Hill—I had forgotten all about Hill! She told me that Freddy, the grocer’s boy, was to assist her in bringing provisions and transporting her injured son here from her cottage.
She has Alice with her, too. Oh dear. I had meant to warn them before they put themselves in harm’s way. But I wonder….”
Elizabeth screwed up her face in concentration, and suddenly she was lost in her own mind as she began to pace.
Darcy took the opportunity to watch her, remembering the day at Netherfield when he had teased her about her figure appearing to best advantage when walking.
She looked remarkable at present, so determined to overcome her panic and her sadness alike, so intent on whatever notion had struck her.
Darcy had no wish to disrupt her beguiling contemplation, and so he simply waited.
“Mr. Darcy, I understand that you have no wish to place yourself or your sister and her companion in danger, though I might argue that making the journey back to London this late in the day, with the snowstorm growing worse, might be doing just that. Colonel Forster was certainly doubtful that my family would be able to travel in such inclement weather, though I assured him that I expect their return today. If you were to stay, even just for tonight, and with the Hills here, perhaps it might give the impression that my family is back at Longbourn, to anyone attempting to ascertain whether I am really home alone.”
“They are sure to return tonight, these villains?” Darcy frowned.
Elizabeth had told him of the letter Colonel Forster had given her for Wickham, and though he agreed that it was likely meant as a taunt, he did not think there was any truth in it.
“They will not have received his orders to return tonight, and even if he speaks with them directly, the weather may not permit it.”
“I do not think they are meant to act on their plans tonight, but my understanding was that they would return to glean whether my family has indeed returned. We might easily create an illusion that would convince them, even from afar if they are not bold enough to approach as they did this morning. Perhaps it would be enough to dissuade them from any further mischief.”