CHAPTER 18
Another shot rang out from the hillside.
Mr. Darcy held his breath; Elizabeth cried out, "Mr. Darcy!
" A moment later he saw the ball graze the top of the wall very much wide of them, perhaps several yards off.
He judged the man must be firing from a pistol to lose two shots so quickly, and was grateful, at least, that it was no shotgun.
"You are safe, Elizabeth! They cannot reach us now!" he called into her ear, breathless from the strain of the last few minutes.
He could feel her trembling beneath him. Pressing his heel to the pony's side, he urged it faster still along the road. "Get on!" he called out, three times over, driving the animal to the fullest speed it could manage.
After half an hour of hard riding, he allowed the pace to ease somewhat, his eyes scanning constantly for any sign of village or town.
They had entered a stretch of dense wood once more, obscuring whatever lay around them, and with only the one road before them, he had little choice but to follow it, settling himself into a steadier seat as he did.
Elizabeth had ceased trembling by then, and felt the shift of his weight behind her.
They had both been given over entirely to survival these past minutes, neither sparing much thought for the impropriety of their situation.
Two riders sharing a single mount was common enough between parent and child, but wholly unacceptable between an unmarried man and woman.
Still, they pressed on down the lane, seeking whatever safety and shelter might be found.
Darcy hoped to find some town of sufficient size to conceal them properly, from which he might send an express to his cousin, somewhere with enough coming and going that two strangers, however bedraggled, would draw no particular notice.
A small village, he knew, would leave them dangerously exposed; everyone would know everyone, and a stranger's face would be remarked upon within the hour.
"Elizabeth, we are safe for the moment, but we must keep on. We need a town large enough to hide us." He had an urgency in his voice, and Elizabeth thought, completely unaware of how he used her first name thus.
She made no answer beyond a small nod, clinging still to the pony's mane with both hands, her knuckles white against the coarse hair, worn through entirely with the aftermath of fear and the shock of gunfire aimed so near them both. Speech, just then, felt beyond her.
Some twenty minutes later, he spoke again, his voice pitched low with cautious hope. "Miss Elizabeth, look there. I believe I see something."
She lifted her head, forcing her eyes to focus past her own exhaustion. "I see it too, Mr. Darcy."
"We shall go around it. It looks too small to be safe." He said it with evident reluctance, as though the decision cost him something.
She felt a sharp pang of disappointment at the thought of pressing on past any hope of rest, however small, but she trusted his judgment entirely now, without question, her own survival bound up so wholly with his that she could no longer imagine weighing his choices against her own.
As the village drew near, he turned the pony off the road and into a thicket, then dismounted with the same economical, purposeful movement he brought to everything now.
Elizabeth, without needing to be asked, passed him the reins, and he led the animal carefully through the trees, his eyes constantly moving, hoping to skirt the village entirely unseen by its inhabitants.
As they walked, he brushed absently at the dust and grime that had gathered thick upon his riding coat, the very one he had worn the morning of his capture, now scarcely recognisable for the state of it.
"No amount of brushing will make you fit for company," Elizabeth observed, matter-of-fact, though something almost fond crept into her tone despite the words themselves, and he could not help a small grin at the remark, brief as it was.
"Miss Elizabeth, your foot." His grin faded as quickly as it had come. "I am ashamed to have forgotten how it pained you."
She gave a small, nervous laugh, waving off his concern with a hand that trembled only slightly. "You are quite forgiven, Mr. Darcy, particularly after rescuing us both from gunfire. I think a sore foot rather pales beside that."
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am." His voice had gone low and entirely serious. "You cannot know how deeply I regret that you have been made to suffer such an ordeal, any part of it, from the very first moment."
She could only manage, "Thank you." Her throat had tightened too much to permit anything further, and she dared not try, certain that the smallest additional word would dissolve into tears she had no wish for him to see just yet.
He led them on through the thicket until he judged they had passed well beyond the village, then guided the pony back toward the road.
Bringing the animal beside a tree, he used it to spring back onto its back with the same easy competence he had shown all day, settling once more behind her.
She felt the warmth of him at her back, solid and steady, as he clicked his tongue and urged the pony forward into a gallop, racing onward once more in hope of rescue.
***
After two hours more, the edge of a proper town came into view at last, large enough, he judged, to serve their purpose, enough traffic upon its outskirts already that two travel-worn riders would draw only passing curiosity, and nothing more.
He rode into its outskirts and turned down the first side street he came to before dismounting, his legs nearly as unsteady as hers after so long astride.
He said, with as much neutrality as he could muster, "You are riding astride. I think it best we keep to the back streets from here. I should not like for either of us to bring attention to ourselves"
She pinked slightly at the spectacle they must present.
"I would rather walk." Elizabeth answered at once, the thought of being seen riding in so unbecoming a fashion far worse, to her mind, than any discomfort walking might cost her; a small, foolish vanity, perhaps, after everything else, but one she found she could not simply set aside.
"Are you certain?" he asked warily, his jaw setting into a hard, flat line.
She nodded, more firmly than she felt. "Yes, sir."
Darcy decided he must agree to it, and reached up to catch her at the waist as she leaned down, and she held his shoulders as he lowered her carefully to the ground, taking her whole weight without apparent effort.
Her legs, unsteady beneath her after so many hours gripping the pony's flanks, would scarcely hold, and she clung to him a moment, mortified, to find her footing again.
She was still staring down at her own feet, willing them steady, when she felt his arms come gently about her, not lifting her this time, only holding.
She looked up to find herself against his chest, scarcely able to credit that he should embrace her so, in an open side street, one hand still holding the pony's lead, careless of who might see, and yet she found she craved the comfort of it entirely, craved it more than she had craved anything in days.
She wrapped her own arms about his neck and held on.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy… Thank you for saving me.
" The last sentence sounded more like a weep than words.
"I am only glad you are safe." His voice was rough, unsteady in a way she had never heard it. "Glad we are both safe. You were very brave, Elizabeth, braver than I had any right to ask of you."
Warm tears slid down her face before she could stop them, and she felt her throat close entirely.
She knew a great deal remained to be done, and that they stood still exposed in an unfamiliar street, vulnerable in ways she could not fully reckon in this moment, but she held to him a moment longer regardless, feeling the steady, urgent beat of his heart beneath her cheek, before at last, reluctantly, releasing her hold.
He loosened his own grip in turn, and she saw, drawing back, that his eyes stood bright with unshed tears of his own, rimmed faintly red, his cheeks still flushed from the ride and from something else besides that he made no move to hide from her.
He is a good man, she thought, tenderness rising in her chest, warm and entirely unguarded. God bless him.
Darcy, for his part, had never before embraced anyone in public in the whole of his life, certainly no woman, and certainly not with such complete disregard for who might witness it, but seeing her so shaken, so entirely spent, so thoroughly undone by everything she had borne without complaint these past days, he had found himself simply unable to do otherwise.
Propriety, in that moment, had seemed a very small and foolish thing indeed.
Sensing the moment had passed, though reluctant, if he were honest with himself, to let it go entirely, he offered her his arm, guiding their stolen pony along with the other hand.
He was in search now of a coaching inn, where he might sell the animal and put the proceeds toward a room, a proper meal, and an express to his cousin, practical matters, all of them, and yet his mind kept circling back, unbidden, to the warmth of her still pressed against his side.
At length he stopped before a large white building fronting a substantial stable, its windows glowing warm with candlelight against the gathering dusk.
"Follow me," he murmured close to her ear, his hand finding the small of her back to guide her, as though he could not quite bring himself to stop touching her now that he had begun.