Chapter 7 #2
“Ah, yes, well… I suppose we could stop by and see. I had thought to go to Darcy House. My father kept a small safe in the study, hidden under a floorboard. I was the only one who knew of it.” He looked at her seriously.
“If it has not been emptied, it might give us enough to last as long as we need.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “It is a risk.”
“I can be discreet.”
“But what if someone sees you? What if they… they call the constable?” Her expression twisted with anxiety.
Darcy felt a pang at that. That she would worry for him—even now, after everything he had done—softened something in his chest. “We shall stop at the Gardiners’ first,” he said. “If they remember you, they may let us stay. Then I will go to Darcy House after dark.”
She hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Very well.”
His lips twitched. “Besides… it would be rather difficult to explain how Mr. and Mrs. Smith came to possess the key to a townhouse in Mayfair.”
Elizabeth smirked. “I suppose Mrs. Smith will have to work on her husband’s humility.”
He chuckled under his breath. “A lost cause, I fear.”
They turned and returned to the inn, handing over their coins and receiving two slips of paper in exchange. Then, bundled and breathless, they boarded the waiting coach.
Darcy let Elizabeth ascend first, then followed, ducking low beneath the curved roof. Inside, the cabin was dim and close. Two passengers already sat in the opposite corner: an older woman with a lace cap and a narrow-eyed boy with a satchel on his knees.
Darcy sat beside Elizabeth, his shoulder brushing hers, and for the first time since waking, he felt a thread of something steady.
A direction. A plan.
London first. Then Longbourn. Then—whatever else this strange new world required.
He glanced sideways at Elizabeth.
She was staring out the frosted window, her lips slightly parted, her breath fogging the glass. One hand was braced on the seat beside her.
She looked brave. Determined. And lovely.
He turned his face toward the window, lest he say something foolish.
The coach jolted into motion.
∞∞∞
By the time the hackney drew to a stop before Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth’s heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she was certain Darcy could hear it.
The familiar row of tidy brick homes, the polished knocker on the painted green door—everything looked just as it should. And yet… nothing felt right.
Darcy stepped out first and turned, offering his hand to help her down.
His gloved fingers closed gently over hers, steadying her as her boots met the cobblestones.
He was quiet, but she saw his eyes flick over the modest yet well-kept houses, taking in the neat curtains, the swept steps, the faint scent of roasting chestnuts from somewhere down the lane.
She did not miss the slight lift of his brows.
Not disapproving. Surprised.
Elizabeth held her head high and rang the bell.
A maid opened the door and showed them into the sitting room.
They walked into the room, and there stood her aunt.
Not changed in the slightest—still with that smooth, elegant brow, the composed smile, the gentle manner of speech that had always soothed Elizabeth as a child.
“May I help you?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, polite but reserved, her gaze taking them in with a flicker of curiosity.
Elizabeth’s throat closed. She does not recognize me, either.
Darcy stepped forward. “Pardon the intrusion, madam, especially on Christmas day. We are William and Beth Smith, traveling north. We hoped to stop briefly and pay our respects. Your niece—Mrs. Collins—spoke warmly of you when last we saw her.”
Elizabeth could have kissed him for the ease with which he delivered the lie.
Mrs. Gardiner blinked, her expression warming just slightly. “Mrs. Collins? Oh… yes, of course. Lizzy. Do come in and be seated, please.”
Elizabeth stepped in from the hall and immediately felt a wave of memories rush over her—the scent of lavender polish, the familiar creak in the stair, the tall cabinet filled with Aunt Gardiner’s china. It was all the same.
Except that no one knew her.
The awareness settled heavily on her shoulders.
Darcy’s expression was unreadable, but she could see him glancing around with restrained interest—at the clean lines of the entryway, the quality of the drapes, the quiet elegance of the Gardiner home. He had clearly not expected such genteel refinement in Cheapside.
Elizabeth felt a flicker of grim satisfaction as she settled onto a comfortable chair near the fire.
Mr. Gardiner came into the room behind them, and introductions were repeated. Mrs. Gardiner rang for tea, and a plate of buttered biscuits accompanied the warm drink.
“You say you met Lizzy? How is my niece?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged glances. “She seems to be settling,” Elizabeth replied cautiously. “Of course, we only just became acquainted with her…”
Her voice trailed off as she realized the awkwardness of having to describe herself as a stranger would. Darcy, clearly sensing her disquiet, quickly said, “She seems to be very kind, and I think the parish will flourish under her care.”
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner beamed. “You say you are heading north, though, did you not?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “What part, if I may ask?”
“Derbyshire,” Darcy replied. “A small town called Lambton—you may not have heard of it.”
“Why, I certainly have!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. “I am from Lambton, you see, though I have not been there in many years.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s voice was noncommittal. “My husband’s sister lives there. It is my first time to travel this far, and I hear it is quite lovely.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s expression softened at that. “It is. I spent much of my youth there. I am sorry to say it has changed considerably, though.”
Elizabeth’s hand tightened around her teacup.
“Oh?” Darcy asked, his tone light but attentive.
Mrs. Gardiner leaned slightly forward. “It used to be so peaceful—a good school, a thriving village. But in recent years… well. The estate passed to Miss Georgiana Darcy, you know, but her uncle managed it for her. Then she eloped with the steward’s son—Wickham, I believe his name was.”
Elizabeth’s heart stopped. She glanced quickly at Darcy. He had gone very still.
Mrs. Gardiner went on. “They say he was charming, at first. The whole county thought him delightful—handsome, well-mannered, quick with compliments. But after the wedding, the truth emerged. Selfish. A gambler. He has nearly drained Pemberley dry. Many of the tenants have left. And Lambton itself… we had thought to visit again this summer, perhaps even go walking in the Peaks, but it is no longer the sort of place I would bring my children.”
Elizabeth forced a smile. “That is… very sad to hear.”
Darcy’s hands were folded tightly in his lap, and she knew without looking that his jaw was clenched. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for the tea. We should let you get back to your day. We have not yet secured lodging for the night.”
“Oh, but do stay,” Mrs. Gardiner said at once. “Surely you are not setting off again without dinner? And… and if it is not too bold of me—well, we have a guest room. You are very welcome to it.”
Elizabeth hesitated, her heart caught between gratitude and ache.
How many evenings had she passed in this house? How many quiet conversations, how many nights helping the children into bed, how many long walks with her aunt down Cheapside’s less-traveled lanes?
And now… she was a stranger.
“That is very kind of you,” she said softly. “We would be most grateful—”
“But I am afraid I have a commitment this evening that will keep me out quite late,” Darcy interjected. “I should hate to have my comings and goings disturb your peace, especially on a holiday.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Gardiner blinked. “Well, of course, we understand. But you must at least let us feed you before you go.”
Elizabeth forced a smile. “We would be honored.”
Mrs. Gardiner brightened. “Wonderful. Then I will see what can be managed—something warm, at least. And perhaps a bit of cheese toast for the road.”
She bustled off toward the kitchen with her husband following behind, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy alone in the parlor.
Elizabeth looked at him. “We have not the funds for an inn; at least, not a respectable one.”
“But here we will be noticed, scrutinized. We do not have a trunk or even a satchel with belongings. Besides, what if the worst occurs, and I am arrested for theft this evening?” Darcy shook his head. “It could be disastrous for your uncle’s business to be associated with a criminal.”
“I see your point,” Elizabeth said with a sigh of resignation.
He nodded once. “The longer we wait, the more the risks multiply. If there is anything left at Darcy House, I must find it before someone else does.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then I am coming with you.”
He opened his mouth to object, but she lifted a hand. “To keep watch. Or create a distraction. Besides, you wish me to remain at an inn, alone?”
He sighed, but there was no heat in it. Only weary admiration.
“As you wish… Mrs. Smith.”
They exchanged a look—half anxious, half amused—and sat back in silence, listening to the muffled sounds of supper being prepared in the kitchen. Mrs. Gardiner returned a few minutes later with her husband.
“Cook will have something ready for you soon. You can take it with you.”
“You are very good,” Elizabeth responded. “Thank you for your kindness, especially on Boxing Day.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled, her expression touched with something almost wistful. “Of course. I only wish we had more time to get come to know you better.”
Elizabeth swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. “So do I.” She forced a smile, “But you never know—you might easily tire of us once the novelty of our acquaintance has ended.”
“That sounds like something my niece would say,” Mrs. Gardiner said, and Elizabeth was horrified to see her aunt’s eyes misting somewhat.
“You mean Mrs. Collins?” Darcy asked, and Mrs. Gardiner nodded in response.
“She is the first of our nieces to marry,” Mr. Gardiner explained, “And it was a bit unexpected. We have always viewed our Lizzy and her sister Jane as our own daughters, and—as with any change in life—there is a sense of sorrow.”
“I understand perfectly,” Elizabeth said, “and I can tell that she feels the same about the two of you.”
Her own eyes welled with tears, and she felt Darcy reach out and place a hand on her shoulder.
She looked at him gratefully and was startled by the depth of feeling in his eyes.
For a long moment neither of them looked away; the air between them seemed to hum with unspoken understanding—of shared loss, of recognition, of something neither dared to name.
Then Mrs. Gardiner gave a soft, embarrassed little laugh that broke the spell. “Look at us, weeping over nothing. Ah, here is a basket from the kitchens.”
Elizabeth rose and took it from her aunt, her heart still unsteady. They made their farewells and wished one another a happy Christmas, then Elizabeth forced herself to walk out the front door and back out into the strange, new world she inhabited.