Chapter 1.5
Desperate and mortified, Darcy gathered the blanket around him and took a step towards her, then stopped. Her appearance worried him and his only concern was to help her, but in the present circumstances, any gesture of support might frighten her.
Embarrassed to be exposed in front of the woman whose good opinion meant the most to him, worried for what she might think of him, he began to mumble, begging for forgiveness.
“Miss Bennet, I took the liberty of removing my clothes… I was all wet and dirty and on this cold… I did not expect anyone to be here. Please forgive me; I deeply apologise for this demeaning happenstance, I cannot…”
“Mr. Darcy, this is the most awkward and discomfiting moment of my life; there is nothing we can do except cease speaking of it and pretend it never happened,” she whispered, her gaze fixed upon the fire.
He nodded, and she continued, “I will go and change now. There should be some clothes in the closet. Not many, but at least they will be dry.”
“Very well…please do…” he mumbled again, as though she needed his approval.
Elizabeth took off her coat and bonnet, letting them fall to the floor, then she walked towards a third room.
Her steps were small and hesitant, and she seemed to need support but he did not dare offer it.
Eventually, she closed the door behind her, and he remained there, still, feeling like a helpless fool.
What should he do? Could he remain in the cottage, alone with her, both undressed?
Could there be a more compromising situation for a young lady or gentleman?
She might ask him to leave — she had every right to do so, since it was her house — but where could he go, in that weather?
And yet, how could he stay, regardless of the danger of the situation, if she rejected his presence?
He knew only too well that no woman would ever be in danger from him, even in the most intimate circumstances.
But she knew nothing except that she was alone with a naked man, in the middle of the countryside.
If she were to ask his advice, he would be the first to suggest she remove the danger — which was him.
The next thought that crossed his mind was that she was changing her clothes in the other room, which must be horribly cold.
So he put another log on the fire and arranged a chair far enough away from him but as close as possible to the fireplace, hoping she would sit there.
Then he sat, then stood up again and then sat back down.
Eventually, he heard Elizabeth’s voice, warning him that she was returning. She surely did not want to surprise him and risk facing another scandalous sight.
She entered hesitantly, avoiding his gaze, her face pale, her hair falling down her back, still wet and in disorder. She was covered in a blanket too, and he could only see some shoes, shabby and too big for her feet. She looked around briefly, noticing the chairs near the fire.
“Mr. Darcy, in the first chamber, where you found your blanket, there is a closet. You will find some men’s clothes in there.
They are certainly not what you are used to, but at least they are dry.
And they are clothes,” she said. “In the meantime, I will make some tea — we both need a hot drink. Thank God you started the fire, sir. It is already quite warm in here.”
With that, she put the blanket aside, revealing a simple dress, probably worn without any undergarments. The gown’s simplicity made her look younger and her apparent distress touched his heart.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I will go and change immediately. But you should stay near the fire. I can make the tea once I am dressed.”
Elizabeth started to laugh. “Oh dear, what a situation! I already have Mr. Darcy starting the fire and now he offers to make me tea. Nobody would believe such a story, not even my sister, Jane.”
Darcy attempted to reply, holding the blanket around him.
He saw her smiling and blushing and tried to guess her thoughts, while he felt horribly aware of his nakedness and hurried to put an end to at least part of their mutual mortification by leaving the room.
He needed some clothing before any further conversation with her.
As soon as he was gone, Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief.
She tried to keep herself busy to avoid reflecting too much upon the dreadful circumstance she found herself in, which was her own fault.
She had assumed she knew better than Jane and had ignored the advice to stay close to Longbourn.
She had allowed herself to be distracted and had walked further than she should have when the storm began, stronger than she had seen in a long time.
She had found no place to shelter from the rain, so she had continued to walk towards the cottage; she knew that path by heart and she had found her way easily through the thick curtain of rain.
But not being able to see what was ahead had only been a small part of the danger; her shoes were not appropriate for walking on such slippery ground and she had fallen several times, barely keeping her balance from one tree to another.
A distance that should have taken her only several short minutes had taken more than half an hour, and soon she had felt her own life was in real danger.
She had continued to walk with her last ounce of strength and when the cottage finally appeared in sight, she had been stunned to see the chimney smoking; someone was inside and had made the fire!
She had been happy and relieved, then immediately frightened.
It could have been anyone — strangers, highwaymen, villains that might harm her.
Torn between her life being in danger outside and inside, she had proceeded towards the cottage with all the care the rain allowed her.
She had first stopped at the barn, and for a moment she had considered hiding there until the storm calmed.
But she had felt more cold than scared and understood that she would not survive several hours in her wet clothes in the freezing weather.
And then, dumbfounded but relieved and thankful, she had recognised Darcy’s horse.
The presence of a familiar face — even that of Mr. Darcy, the man whose presence she desired the least of all her acquaintances — had been a lifesaving blessing.
After taking another few steps, she had peered through the window and espied Darcy sitting by the fire, covered in a blanket.
He had seemed to be alone — which was strange in itself — and the idea that he had started the fire by himself had put a smile on Elizabeth’s frozen lips.
So he could do something with his own hands if needed.
She had then stepped forward towards the door, eager to feel the warmth of the fire.
She had absolutely no expectation of pleasure from spending time alone with Mr. Darcy — the worse companion ever. But he was there — and she had thanked the Lord for knowing she would be in no danger once she entered.
When the door opened, the smell and heat of the fire had embraced her instantly.
She had been surprised and amused by his complete bewilderment and by his appearance, so far from his usual proper image.
And then, she had had to suffer the shock of her life, when with horror and dismay, she had observed the blanket fall from his body and realised he was naked.
Completely, as she had not seen or even pictured a man in her mind ever before.
Her eyes still hurt from the image, although she had not dared to look lower than his waist. But it had been shocking enough — and if not for the terrible storm and her feet, which were frozen from the cold, and her astonishment, she would have turned and run away.
But that was not an option, under the present circumstances.
And then he had spoken — friendlier, kinder, warmer than ever before and she had hurried to change her clothes.
And now she was there, making tea, waiting for him to return.
She was alone with an arrogant, resentful and insensitive man — as even he himself had admitted.
One who had shown no scruples in offending her on their first meeting, one who had carelessly ruined Mr. Wickham’s life for no other reason than jealousy.
And she had to spend God-only-knew how much time alone with him.
No, she was not frightened of him. Not for a moment did she feel herself in danger or fear he might behave improperly.
Not Mr. Darcy. And certainly not with her; their mutual dislike for each other was the ideal protection in the dreadful and highly improper circumstances.
While waiting for the water to boil, she lit several candles.
“Miss Bennet?”
She startled and turned to him, then covered her mouth with her palm to repress her laughter. He wore a shirt and a pair of trousers, old and dusty and too small for his size. With his hair damp and untidy, he looked more like a peasant than the aloof and haughty Master of Pemberley.
“I imagine I must look awful but I admit feeling fine,” he said with surprising good humour. “Please allow me to finish the tea. Sit near the fire and I will bring you a cup.”
His friendly disposition was disconcerting and she hesitated a moment, then accepted his suggestion. She moved the chair even closer to the flames and sat, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself.
Shortly after, she heard his steps. He offered her a cup and held it until she took it with trembling fingers.
Then he sat on the other chair and took a sip from his own cup.
“Excellent tea,” he said, “even with no milk. How fortunate you keep so many useful things here.”
“Well, it is not the first time we have been caught here by the rain. I have learned the lesson. But I cannot remember ever being so cold before. The tea is perfect indeed. And the fire too — for which I have to thank you.”
“It was the least I could do — although I cannot claim to have done it for you. Quite the contrary, I hoped I would not meet anyone here today. As much as I appreciate your company, I am praying the rain will stop soon so we can leave. You need immediate rest, Miss Bennet, and very likely some tinctures — you look like you have caught a bad cold. In the meantime, allow me to pour you some more tea — you have almost finished it.”
Elizabeth nodded, then sipped more from her cup to conceal her nervousness. A friendly and amiable Mr. Darcy was as distressing as an arrogant and unpleasant one. He smiled and she started to feel warm inside, while a pleasant tiredness enveloped her.
“May I ask, what were you doing here, alone?” she asked.
“I am not even certain; I went for a ride and I imprudently ventured too far from Netherfield, heedless of the change in the weather. Bingley has gone to visit Colonel Forster and he planned to call at Longbourn afterwards.”
“Ah, yes. I understand how a visit to Longbourn might be more tiresome than a ride in the woods, in the storm,” Elizabeth said and he sensed the implied reproach.
“Your censure is not entirely fair, Miss Bennet. If I follow your logic, I would say that you had also chosen to risk a walk alone in the storm, rather than staying in the comfort of your family.” His voice was light, but his expression was serious.
“It seems we both chose unwisely; we could have foreseen such an outcome, but we preferred to gamble with the danger. Therefore we are here together, trapped in a situation with an uncertain conclusion. It is a punishment we must bravely accept,” she said, partially in jest.
“True. I feel grateful that you happened to tell me about this cottage, otherwise my punishment would have been even more severe. I hope Bingley is safe — he must have arrived at Longbourn by now.”
“He should be safe if he only rode from Meryton to Longbourn. Wherever the rain caught him on the road, he would have found a place to shelter.”
“Very likely. It is strange that, of the two of us, Bingley proved to be the more prudent this time,” Darcy jested.
“Riding alone over unknown ground can be very dangerous, even in good weather,” Elizabeth said.
“I enjoy the sport very much and I do it as often as I can; never before have I become lost, nor been thrown from my horse.”
“Well, there is a first time for everything, Mr. Darcy. This situation is completely new for me too.”
“I assumed as much. May I ask, how often do you walk so far from the house?”
“As often as I have the time and the opportunity. But more often we walk into Meryton — it is closer and we have many friends there.”
Elizabeth sensed a slight gesture of restlessness in Darcy and, without much consideration, she changed the subject while she continued the conversation.
“In fact, the other day when we met, we were just making a new acquaintance. A gentleman that I understand is not a stranger to you.”
The effect of her words was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, and the signs of repressed anger became visible.
At length, Darcy spoke in a constrained manner.
“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends rather quickly. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.”
The frown between his eyebrows and his disquieted expression revealed his anxiety about that subject.
“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship and for that, he is likely to suffer all his life,” continued Elizabeth with emphasis.
He rolled his eyes, then suddenly stood up and moved away from her.
“I can see this subject is very unpleasant to you,” she said. “Remorse is a strong and disquieting sentiment.”
“Remorse?” he replied in a sharp tone. “Not at all, I assure you! I have nothing to reproach myself with regard to George Wickham, except perhaps for being too tolerant of his disloyalty.”
“Too tolerant? Really, sir? I was told exactly the opposite!”
“You were told? I assume Mr. Wickham has already shared his stories with you. And you readily believed him, I imagine. To have done so so soon after meeting each other is an extraordinary display of trust on both sides!”
“You believe it is extraordinary that a gentleman trusted me? You claim it was too soon and speak of disloyalty. It is always surprising that people might judge a situation so utterly differently, depending on their own selfish interests.”
She was purposely attempting to attack him, but he let out a burst of short mocking laughter.
“How accurately you have described Wickham’s character, Miss Bennet. I could not have said it better myself.”