Chapter Seven
Mr Darcy’s expression had hardened. He collected her gloves, set her shawl over her shoulders and then stood before her with his coat folded across his arm. "Miss Elizabeth," he said, with dreadful formality, "we must marry."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue when the door rattled suddenly and swung inwards, revealing Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face.
His normally carefree countenance was lined with worry, but the moment his gaze moved from Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, then took in Mr Darcy’s missing cravat, his rumpled shirt and the general disarray of them both, the concern vanished entirely.
"Pleasant evening?" he asked, his face transforming into a wide grin.
"Fitzwilliam," Mr Darcy said warningly, the word coming out as a growl.
"Richard," Miss de Bourgh hissed from somewhere behind him.
She was holding a ring of keys and pushed past her cousin and into the cellar, looking far less amused.
"Come, come, quickly. I have sent the servants on a wild-goose chase, but it will not last for long.
If my mother discovers that the two of you have spent the night down here, I shall be forced to listen to her shrieks for the next twenty years. "
Darcy stepped forward at once. "Anne, I can explain. This is entirely my fault. Miss Elizabeth bears no responsibility for what has occurred, and I shall of course do the honourable thing."
Elizabeth let out a huff of displeasure and folded her arms. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s grin widened and he clapped his hands together as if about to watch a very amusing play and could not wait for the action to begin.
"I should think so," she said. "If you had not closed that blasted door, we should not be in this situation at all."
Darcy looked at her with indignation. "I did not know it would lock behind us. I intend to take full and immediate responsibility for what has happened."
"Which is a very grand way of saying that you have already decided what must be done and I get no say in the matter."
Anne closed her eyes briefly. "Could the two of you postpone whatever this is until later? You may quarrel to your hearts’ content once we are safely out of Rosings. At present, I suggest we move."
Elizabeth started to speak. "Miss de Bourgh, I..."
Anne lifted one hand to stop her. "I think, after everything that has happened here, we may safely dispense with formalities. Please call me Anne, and I shall call you Elizabeth, if that is acceptable."
Elizabeth could only nod. Then Mr Darcy stepped up to her and held out his coat. "You should wear this."
"I have my shawl," she said, raising her chin and attempting to affect an air of cool indifference.
"Your gown is covered in dust and there is a prominent wine stain upon the skirt. If we encounter anyone, the coat will draw far less attention."
Elizabeth looked down and felt the blush begin somewhere at the roots of her hair.
He was quite right. The gown bore unmistakable evidence of several hours spent upon a cellar floor, while a dark splash of wine marked one side of her skirt.
Taken together with her loose hair and general state of disarray, she looked very much like what she was—a woman creeping home after a night of scandal that she could barely bring herself to contemplate.
She took the coat from him without further argument and pulled it around herself, grateful for the concealment even as the warmth and unmistakable scent of Mr Darcy enveloped her. This did nothing to cool her face.
Anne peered into the corridor before beckoning them after her. "The servants believe I have misplaced a bracelet somewhere in the orangery. I gave a very convincing swoon and, in my distress, Mama has ordered the room to be turned upside down in search of it."
Fitzwilliam glanced over his shoulder at her with a delighted grin. "She is a marvel. I do believe she could organise a military campaign better than most of the generals I have known if she put her mind to it."
Anne gave him a cool look as she ushered Elizabeth through the doorway. "If you are quite finished praising me, perhaps you might remember that the search for my bracelet—which is safely stowed beneath my mattress—cannot occupy the household forever. We must make haste."
That sobered him only a little. He moved ahead to check the next turn while Anne kept close beside Elizabeth, every bit as composed as if they were entering the drawing room for tea.
Darcy followed so near behind that Elizabeth could hear every uneven breath he took.
She refused to look at him but she could not stop flashes of the night they had spent together returning with mortifying clarity.
His mouth against hers, both eager and tender.
The feel of his soft curls between her fingers.
His fingers blazing through her dress as he held her close.
She almost stumbled as they reached a narrow servants’ staircase leading towards the eastern side of the house and Fitzwilliam stopped them with one raised hand.
Voices drifted from above, followed almost immediately by Lady Catherine’s unmistakable and demanding tones.
Anne grimaced and waited until the voices receded before leading them upstairs and through a nondescript door. From there they crossed what appeared to be a little-used morning room and slipped through a side entrance and finally emerged into the grey morning light.
"Not that way," Anne said quickly as Elizabeth instinctively turned towards the main path. "One of the gardeners begins work near the south lawn shortly. We shall go through the kitchen garden and out by the old gate."
They followed her across the damp grass, their progress made slower by Elizabeth’s slippers, suited for a ballroom rather than wet lawn, and the fact that Darcy seemed determined to offer his arm every time they encountered so much as an uneven stone.
She ignored his first two attempts. On the third, faced with a muddy bank and no dignified means of descending it, she placed her hand in his outstretched one.
His fingers closed around hers, but neither of them spoke.
He released her the instant she reached level ground.
The old gate opened onto a narrow lane running behind the parsonage grounds.
By the time they reached the vicarage, a light drizzle was falling and Elizabeth’s fatigue had settled heavily over her.
She had expected they would need to devise some elaborate means of entering unseen, but the kitchen door opened before Anne could knock.
Charlotte stood on the other side in a wrapper, her hair loosely braided over one shoulder. "There you are," she said, reaching for Elizabeth and pulling her across the threshold, her eyes filled with worry.
Elizabeth stopped short. "You knew?"
"Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh sought me out at the ball when they realised that both you and Mr Darcy had disappeared," Charlotte said, already drawing her farther over the threshold.
"I told Mr Collins that you had been overcome by a megrim and returned to the vicarage early. He was far too occupied admiring Lady Catherine’s entertainment to question it.
Now quickly," Charlotte continued, taking in Elizabeth’s loose hair and the state of her gown.
"We must get you upstairs before he wakes and decides to enquire after your health. "
Charlotte turned towards the colonel and Anne. "And all was well at Rosings?"
Fitzwilliam leaned against the kitchen table and helped himself to an apple from the bowl, looking as though the night had been no more than a mildly diverting adventure.
"My aunt was apoplectic over Darcy’s behaviour in leaving the ballroom, and I may have encouraged her to believe that I had advised him to retire to his chambers and reflect upon his conduct.
She is now in expectation of a sincere apology. "
Darcy frowned. "And my absence was not remarked upon?"
"Darcy, you have spent years cultivating a reputation for withdrawing from society without explanation. For once it has proved useful."
Anne added in a carefully neutral tone, "My mother accepted it immediately."
"She said," Fitzwilliam continued, taking a bite of the apple, "'Darcy has always been inclined to sulk when crossed.'"
Darcy looked offended. "I do not sulk."
Elizabeth laughed before she could stop herself.
For one dreadful instant she was back in the cellar again, watching him laugh with his collar open and his hair disordered, looking nothing like the cold, arrogant gentleman who had proposed to her in the next room.
Then his expression changed and the distance returned. Elizabeth looked away first.
Charlotte’s gaze moved slowly between them. "Perhaps," she said, "someone ought to tell me what happened."
Darcy cleared his throat. For all the certainty with which he had announced their marriage in the cellar, he now seemed to struggle to find the words.
"Miss Elizabeth and I became inadvertently locked in the wine cellar while attempting to escape my aunt’s...
" He paused, plainly searching for some term that would not be overtly insulting. "...advice."
Fitzwilliam lowered the apple from his mouth, grinning. Anne’s expression remained commendably composed.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, then back to Charlotte.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I appreciate that these are most unusual circumstances, and I can assure you that I mean to do the honourable thing.
I have made Elizabeth..." He stopped abruptly, colour rising into his face.
"Rather, Miss Elizabeth, an offer of marriage. "
The room fell silent, and every eye turned towards Elizabeth. She looked at Darcy and felt her temper rise all over again. "Yes," she said tartly. "Mr Darcy has been very thorough in explaining what honour requires of him. Apparently I have no say in the matter."
Darcy looked as though he intended to answer, but a heavy tread sounded suddenly from the floor above, followed by the creak of a door opening. Charlotte’s head snapped towards the ceiling. "Mr Collins," she hissed.
That was enough to scatter every other concern.
Charlotte caught Elizabeth by the arm and began steering her towards the stairs.
"Quickly. You are supposed to have been suffering from a megrim for half the night, and I should prefer my husband not to discover you in complete disarray in the kitchen wearing Mr Darcy’s coat. "
Heat rushed into Elizabeth’s face. "Charlotte, I am…"
"Upstairs," Charlotte said in a tone that brooked no argument, already steering her towards the door. "You may explain yourself when you are safely in your room."
Elizabeth allowed herself to be hurried towards the door, though she turned back before leaving the room. Darcy was still watching her, his expression grave and unreadable.
"We will discuss this later," she said.
His gaze held hers. "Yes. We will."