Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing.
She had washed her face repeatedly, scrubbing it with a piece of linen until her skin felt raw beneath her fingertips.
She had stared into the small looking glass, there was no mark upon her, no trace of what had happened beyond the memory itself, but she still felt dirty, tainted somehow.
Every time she closed her eyes she felt it again.
Not merely Captain Henderson's hand upon her wrist or the brutal pressure of his mouth against hers, but the dreadful moment in which she had simply frozen.
She had always imagined that, if ever she were threatened, she would slap the offender soundly or deliver some cutting remark that would send him slinking away in disgrace.
Instead she had stood there, unable to think or move or fight.
The thought filled her with humiliation.
She rose abruptly and crossed to the window.
The inn yard below had begun to empty now that the roads were opening once more.
A coach lumbered slowly beneath the archway, piled high with trunks and hatboxes, whilst Mrs Goose stood upon the step pressing parcels of food into travellers' hands.
Stable boys hurried to and fro with harnesses slung over their shoulders and, somewhere beyond the yard, somebody laughed raucously.
Life was moving forward with cheerful determination.
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
Martha appeared, carrying a fresh pitcher of water. "I've brought this for you, ma'am."
Elizabeth managed what she hoped resembled a smile. "Thank you, Martha"
The girl hesitated, plainly sensing that something was amiss but not quite understanding what it was. She set down the pitcher and cleared her throat. "Mrs Goose says there's seed cake just come from the oven, if you'd fancy a piece."
"No... no, thank you."
Elizabeth remained exactly where she was until the sound of the girl's footsteps had faded entirely.
Then the smile she had summoned with such effort disappeared, leaving her feeling hollow..
Burke's words returned to her over and over again.
This was not your doing. He had spoken with absolute conviction but the words rang hollow in her mind.
Another voice had begun its work, quieter than Burke's but more difficult to silence.
It reminded her that no respectable young woman found herself sharing a gentleman's room, however unavoidable the circumstances.
No respectable young woman invited him into her bed, however innocent her intentions.
No respectable young woman kissed him before he had so much as declared himself.
Captain Henderson had spoken coarsely and cruelly.
But strip away his vulgarity, and what remained?
Had he not simply seen her as the rest of the world inevitably would?
What’s more, Darcy had warned him. He had outright warned her about the danger Captain Henderson represented. And she had responded with bitterness and anger.
She knew this way of thinking was unjust. Somewhere, beneath the confusion and shame, she knew Burke had been right.
But she found herself unable to separate Henderson's cruelty from her own conduct.
Everything that had seemed so natural in Darcy's company the night before now appeared reckless, tainted, as though it had happened to another Elizabeth altogether.
Only an hour before she had crossed the courtyard smiling like the greatest simpleton in England because he had smiled at her first. She had imagined—what?
That they might steal another conversation?
Another walk? Another kiss? The memory of the previous night ought to have filled her with happiness.
She could still remember how safe she had felt in his arms, how carefully he had held her, as though afraid even in sleep that he might cause her discomfort.
Now she could not bear the thought of him touching her.
She pressed her fingertips hard against her eyes. "Oh, what have I done?" she whispered into the empty room.
Another quiet knock sounded at the door.
Elizabeth started violently. She felt unequal to anyone who might be on the other side. For one desperate instant she considered remaining silent. If she gave no answer perhaps whoever stood outside would think she slept or had gone downstairs and leave her to the solitude she so badly desired.
The knock came again, patient rather than insistent.
"Miss Bennet?"
Even through the heavy oak door she recognised Darcy's low, gentle tones. Only an hour earlier the sound of it would have sent her hurrying across the room to him. Now it filled her with such mingled relief and dread that she had to steady herself against the bedpost before trusting her voice.
"Come in."
The latch turned with a soft click and Darcy stepped into the room, removing his hat and almost bounding across to her.
The brightness she had seen in his face across the courtyard had not diminished.
There was something boyish about him this morning, as though he carried within him news too welcome to keep to himself for a moment longer.
The sight of him struck Elizabeth like a blow.
It seemed impossible that the same morning could contain both the memory of his tenderness and the ugliness of what had followed.
"I hope I do not intrude," he said, stepping before her. "Mrs Goose told me you had come upstairs, and I wished to find you before..." He stopped, smiling to himself. "Forgive me. I am making a dreadful business of it. I have something to tell you."
Elizabeth clasped her hands together to prevent him seeing that they trembled. "What is it?"
"It concerns the Frosts."
For a moment every other thought disappeared. "You have heard from them?"
"I have." His smile broadened, warmed by the relief he knew the news would bring her.
"Thomas returned not half an hour ago. He found them yesterday evening at a farm beyond Barley Cross.
When the road became impassable Mr Frost managed to find shelter with a local family until the flood subsided. All is well"
Elizabeth pressed one hand against her mouth. She had imagined so many dreadful possibilities over the past days that it took a few moments for the relief to settle in her mind.
"They are safe?"
"Entirely safe. Thomas said they were anxious only that you should know they had not abandoned you."
She let out a long breath. For days she had carried that fear like a stone lodged in her chest. It lifted now so suddenly that she felt almost light-headed.
"Oh... thank God."
Darcy watched the relief pass across her face with quiet satisfaction.
"There is more," he continued gently. "The carriage has been recovered.
It suffered some damage, but the blacksmith has already repaired one wheel and expects to finish the remainder today.
Mr Frost intends to collect you tomorrow morning. "
Only moments before Elizabeth had longed to escape the inn.
Now the idea that she would do so within a few hours felt impossible to process.
The peculiar little world they had inhabited together—the storm, the borrowed names, the shared room, the whispered conversations by firelight—would vanish as completely as the storm itself.
She lowered her eyes, unable to bear his gaze. "I am very grateful that you continued the search," she mumbled
"There was never any question of abandoning it.
" His voice was hesitant now, unsure what had spurred this change in her countenance.
He knelt before her, an echo of an earlier evening and placed a gentle hand beneath her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.
Neither said anything for a beat or two, and the tears that she had been unable to cry since she had reached the room threatened to spill out.
She jerked her head away and he rose suddenly, stepping back and placing his hands behind his back.
The simple joy with which he had entered the room now vanished.
His hand remained suspended in the air for the briefest instant after she turned away, as though he could not quite understand why she had recoiled from him. Only then did he let it fall and take a step backwards.
Darcy stared at her in bewilderment. Barely an hour earlier she had smiled across the courtyard with such warmth that he had thought himself the happiest man in England.
Now she shrank from the lightest touch, as though his hand had become something to fear.
He searched desperately through the conversation for the offence he must unknowingly have given, but found none.
He had brought her the news she had longed for above all others, yet instead of joy it seemed to have brought the deepest unhappiness.
"Miss Bennet..." he said carefully. "Has something happened?"
"No."
"But last night… forgive me… I do not think that is true."
She flinched as he referred to the previous night and his stomach dropped to his boots. For a moment he thought she might say more. He saw the struggle plainly in her face, saw her lips part as though words had risen to them of their own accord. But almost immediately she mastered herself.
"I believe everything has caught up with me at once," she said, attempting a smile that did not reach her eyes. "The anxiety... my illness... I find myself rather tired today, that is all."
Darcy was unconvinced. Nothing in her manner resembled simple fatigue. There was a fragility about her that had not been there yesterday, a reserve that seemed to have sprung up between them in the space of a few short hours. Yet he could hardly press her when she so plainly wished him gone.
"I am sorry," he said quietly. "I had hoped the news might bring you some comfort."
"It does."
She managed a steadier smile this time, though there was sadness in it that puzzled him all the more.
"It brings me a great deal of comfort."
He inclined his head, accepting the dismissal she was too kind to state aloud. "Then I shall leave you to rest."
Elizabeth nodded. But misery etched across her face. He lingered for a moment, reluctant to go, before bowing and quietly withdrawing from the room.
The door closed behind him, and Elizabeth remained sitting exactly where he had left her.
Only then did the composure she had clung to desperately desert her.
She sank her face into the bed clothes, the tears she had fought throughout the conversation coming at last. It seemed monstrous that the news she had prayed for since the day the storm began should have brought her so little comfort.
Mr and Mrs Frost were safe. By this time tomorrow she would almost certainly be on her way to her aunt and uncle in London.
Yet instead of relief she felt only a crushing certainty that she had found the one man she could ever love, only to discover, far too late, that she was no longer worthy of being loved by him in return.
Darcy remained where he was for several moments after the door had closed behind him, his head resting on the door.
He was sure he heard quiet sobs from beyond.
Every fibre of him longed to rush back into the room and take her in his arms. But it seemed he was the cause of her pain.
He had felt it almost from the instant Elizabeth looked at him.
The warmth that had passed so naturally between them that morning had vanished, replaced by a reserve that was so foreign to her nature that he could not begin to imagine what had happened to cause it.
He replayed the conversation as he made his way slowly back along the corridor, examining every word.
Had he presumed too much after the previous night?
Had his happiness been so obvious that he had frightened and overwhelmed her?
She had thanked him for the news of the Frosts with perfect civility, yet there had been a distance in her manner that he could not understand nor ignore.
Then a more terrifying thought crept in.
Had he taken advantage of her? In the cold light of day, did she now see him as no better than a rake and a scoundrel?
He should never have accepted her invitation.
However innocent his intentions, he had lain beside an unmarried lady, kissed her and held her in his arms until morning.
What gentleman worthy of the name placed a woman in such a position?
If she regretted the previous night, then the fault rested entirely with him.
He descended the stairs without seeing them, so consumed by the thought that he walked almost directly into Burke, who stepped smartly aside to avoid a collision.
"Beg pardon, sir."
Darcy murmured something that might have been an apology and would have continued past had Burke not spoken again.
"Mrs Goose asked me to enquire whether you'd still be requiring the spare chamber tonight, sir. She's had another three rooms become vacant now most of the guests have departed."
The question seemed oddly timed, though Darcy scarcely gave it any thought. Until that moment he had imagined returning to the room he and Elizabeth had shared. Now the prospect filled him with dread. He could not endure another evening wondering whether his very presence caused her pain.
"Yes," he replied after only the briefest pause. "Another room will do very well."
Burke inclined his head. "Very good, sir. I'll see that it's made ready."
There was something unusual in his manner.
Burke had served the Darcy family long enough to speak with an ease bordering on insubordination, now every word was measured and respectful, as though he feared saying too much.
Under any other circumstances Darcy might have thought it unusual.
Today he was in too much pain to care. If Burke supposed his subdued spirits arose from parting with Miss Bennet so soon, he could scarcely be blamed. Darcy wished that were the whole of it.
Burke watched him for a moment after he had gone.
There was something in his master's face he had never seen before, a bewilderment that sat strangely upon a man usually so composed.
He had expected anger. Cold, controlled anger perhaps, but anger nonetheless.
Miss Bennet could scarcely have concealed what had happened, and no man alive would have received such news calmly.
Yet Mr Darcy had said nothing. Burke frowned to himself.
Perhaps they had not yet spoken of it. If so, he suspected a reckoning was still to come.