Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (6 page)

“Did you still like her after your father
married her?”

He closed his eyes and rested his head
against the hearth wall. “Yes. She was always pleasant to me, and she
encouraged me to do things my mother would have forbidden, like riding a
half-tamed stallion or climbing a rock cliff. I did not realize her ulterior
motivation at the time, only that she seemed to have extraordinary faith in my
abilities.”

“Did you truly climb cliffs? I would not
have pictured you as such an adventurous child.”

A slight smile curved his lips as he
opened his eyes to look at her. “I suppose I do not look the part now, but that
was before I realized the responsibilities I had. At the time, like all
children, I did not believe any serious harm could befall me. I imagine you were
much the same.”

“Do you mean to imply I was not a ladylike
child?” she teased.

“I meant no discourtesy,” he said stiffly.

“In any case, you would be perfectly
correct in your assumption. I was quite a hoyden as a child. It would have
taken very little for someone like your stepmother to persuade me to do unwise
things. As you say, children see things differently.”

“And then they grow up, and everything
changes.” An echo of melancholy shaded his voice.

This was becoming too intimate for
comfort. In a brisk tone, she said, “You were fortunate your uncle took notice
of what was happening.”

“He did not notice. It was my tutor. I
disliked him for his strictness and insistence I spend my days in study instead
of adventuring. There was a time I fell ill with influenza, a very severe case.
My stepmother apparently told the servants to stay away from me lest the
contagion spread to them, and she would nurse me herself. Needless to say, she
did nothing of the sort. I was left alone for several days without food or
drink until my tutor discovered what was happening. He stayed by my bedside
until the danger passed; then, as soon as I was well enough to ride, he took me
to my uncle and laid the entire tale before him.”  His voice was flat.

Nausea gathered in Elizabeth’s stomach at
the thought of him as a child, ill, helpless and all alone. She gathered the
shreds of her self-possession together and said, “That was brave of your tutor
to risk your stepmother’s displeasure. He must have been very fond of you.”

“As to that I cannot say, but it was
courageous. Had my uncle not listened to him, he would have been sent off
without a character, which would have ruined his career and future prospects.
Fortunately, he did listen, and offered him a position tutoring both Richard
and me. Or, as Richard would say, a position making both of us as miserable as
possible as often as possible.”

“Your cousin was not of a scholarly
disposition?”

“Not at all. He delighted in exploration
and adventure.” The flickers of firelight illuminated his high cheekbones. Even
in his current dishevelment, there was no denying he was a handsome man.

Somehow she must find a way to lighten the
atmosphere. “I suppose it turned out to
my
good fortune, in any case,
since I would be very cold indeed had you never learned to light a fire.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Yes,
sometimes events that seem troubling at the time lead to a desirable outcome.
I, for example, am grateful you choose to take a long walk on a cold day, even
though it meant becoming lost in a snowstorm. I would most likely still be
lying by the side of the road otherwise, without any need of a fire.”

Her mouth felt suddenly dry. “I certainly
would not wish for that.”

“I am glad of that.” His focused gaze was
almost hypnotic in its power. Slowly he leaned toward her.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew
what was coming. Why was she not jumping up and running away? If she told him
to stop, he would do so; her instincts told her as much. But her words were
frozen in her throat as he drew nearer. Then her eyelids slid down as his lips
moved gently against hers, a spot of warmth in an icy world.

Her insides fluttered at the sensation.
What was wrong with her?

Cold air replaced the warmth of his lips,
and she opened her eyes to see him pulling away with a slight smile. “You see
– it would not be so bad to be married to me.”

His words chased away all the sensation of
his kiss, and she covered her face with her hands. After a minute, she managed
to choke out a few words. “Mr. Darcy, that subject is closed.”

“Why?” His voice was quiet, persuasive.
“Unlike your last suitor, no one has ever accused me of being a fool or talking
too much.”

“No, of those two sins I can acquit you.”

“There is no need to be frightened.”

“I am not frightened, and I am
not
Miss Bingley!”

He chuckled. “I know that. If you were, I
likely would have chosen to remain at the side of the road.”

She could not keep a muffled giggle from
escaping. “Surely you would not go to that extreme.”

“You might be surprised.”

“You have surprised me quite enough for
one day, sir!”

After a long moment of silence, he said,
“Then I will endeavor to be more predictable.”

“Why are you trying so hard to be
agreeable? It is not like you.”

He seemed to withdraw into himself. “I do
not make an effort to be disagreeable – at least not usually.”

“I did not mean… oh, never mind. This is a
ridiculous conversation.”

After a brief hesitation, he said, “I
suppose it is. But I must add one thing, even if it is ridiculous.”

“Oh, very well.”

“Kissing you was very agreeable indeed.”

She drew in a sharp breath between her
teeth. “Be that as it may, it will not be repeated.” Oh, it was so unfair, this
game he was insisting on playing. Why had she allowed him to kiss her? Surely
she could pity the boy he once had been without permitting him liberties now.
If only she could walk away from him! But there was nowhere to go. She could
stand a few paces away on the other side of the room, at the price of
subjecting herself to the cold air, but it would make no difference. She would
still be in his presence, so she might as well remain by the hearth.  She
leaned her head back against the rough bricks and closed her eyes. Hopefully he
would take the hint and leave her alone.

“If that is what you wish. It will matter
little in the long run, for I cannot share your opinion that a marriage between
us is unnecessary.”

Why must he insist upon pressing her on
this? “Unnecessary or not, I appreciate that you are trying to do the honorable
thing, assuming you do mean it.”

“Assuming I mean it?” His voice was tight
again.

 “Mr. Darcy, surely it is not news to
you that there are gentlemen who promise a lady marriage with the sole
intention of enjoying her favors, and then deny saying anything of the sort. I
do not
think
you are doing that, but I would be a fool not to consider
that possibility – if I were contemplating accepting your offer, which I
am not. That was all I meant.”

“But you doubt my word. Have I ever
behaved in such a manner to make you think I am not a man of my word?”

“To me? No.”

“To whom, then?”

Why did they have to keep discussing this?
Could he not let the subject rest? “It does not matter, truly. As I said, any
young lady would be wise to consider such risks, rather than taking every
gentleman at his word.”

“Indeed it
does
matter, madam, if
you are questioning my honor. Our circumstances are not ordinary.”

“I cannot argue that point! But I pray you
to forget I said anything. I am tired and cold, and I allowed an unconsidered
thought to pass my lips. It meant nothing.”

He made no reply, instead getting to his
feet and pacing across the room. Not that there was much room to pace; a mere
four strides took him to the far wall. Four steps there, four steps back, again
and again. Were he not so obviously angry, it would have been humorous. 

Suddenly he froze, his expression grim.
“Permit me to guess. What is George Wickham accusing me of this time?”

For some reason, his sardonic tone seemed
to cut into her. “It makes no difference what anyone has said.”

“It matters to me, especially if it has
made you think ill of me.”

She gathered the quilt more tightly around
her. “Obviously I must think terribly ill of you to have allowed you to kiss
me!”

“There is no point in trying to distract
me. Whatever he has said, I deserve the right to defend myself and my good
name.”

“Perhaps I should express myself more
slowly and clearly so you will understand me this time! I do not think ill of
you.” Oddly enough, it was true. He had become a real person to her in this
last day, with all the complexities that went with it.

He leaned over her until his face was just
a short distance from hers, his hands against the wall on either side of her.
“Tell me, Elizabeth. I demand it of your justice.”

She huffed and looked away from his intent
dark eyes. “Very well, since you leave me no choice. He said your father had
promised him a living, and you refused to give it to him. There – are you
happy now?”

To her great relief, he stood again. “How
very like him – to tell only those parts of the truth which paint the
picture he chooses. My father did promise him a living, and I indeed refused to
give it to him, but I suppose he did not mention that three years earlier he
had requested payment in lieu of the preferment, and I gave him a sum of three
thousand pounds. When he then returned on the death of the incumbent,
requesting the living, I refused.”

Elizabeth hardly knew what to believe. She
had no reason to doubt Mr. Wickham, yet Mr. Darcy had produced his version
without hesitation. It did not seem like something he could have made up so
quickly.

Darcy returned to his pacing. “He should
not be a clergyman. He is a scoundrel, a cheat and a seducer.”

“A scoundrel? Come now. That is rather
extreme.”

“Is it? How should I refer to the man who
contrived to meet my sister alone, convince her she was in love with him and to
agree to an elopement – all when she was but fifteen years old? It was
nothing but good fortune that I arrived unexpectedly and discovered his plans
before it was too late. That was last summer. His inducement was her dowry of
thirty thousand pounds.”

His angry words felt almost like blows.
She covered her face with her hands, hiding from his probing eyes. It could not
be true, could it? Mr. Wickham would not have done such an evil thing… or would
he? He had certainly been quick to abandon her and develop an interest in Mary
King once he discovered she had ten thousand pounds. Charlotte would call it
practicality on his part, but the speed of his change of allegiance had been
shocking. She still could not believe he would attempt to elope with Mr.
Darcy’s sister, but at the same time, why would Mr. Darcy make such a claim if
it were not true? It would devastate his sister’s future if it became public
knowledge. He had no reason to lie about it.

She had to respond somehow. “I am sorry. I
hardly know what to say, what to think.”

“You are far from the first to be taken in
by his pleasing manners. He has a long history of plying his charm on one lady
after.…” He stopped abruptly.

Lowering her hands to see why he had
stopped, she discovered him staring into space, his eyes alit. “Is something
the matter?”

“
That
was why I was travelling to
Meryton yesterday. I heard rumors to the effect that you were Wickham’s
particular favorite. I did not wish to see you become another of his victims,
so I determined to go to Longbourn to tell your father what I knew of him.”

So it was possible to feel even worse
about her mistakes. That Mr. Darcy would undertake the mortification of seeking
out her father for her protection was more than she could bear. In a small
voice she said, “See, it is as I said. Your memory has returned. But I must beg
you to excuse me; I do not wish to converse any further at present.” In case he
could possibly misunderstood that, she drew her knees up to her chest and
buried her face in her arms. She could not even bring herself to care that he
would see her weakness. 

To her relief, he said nothing. But after
a minute a weight settled over her, and her eyes shot open to discover he had
placed his topcoat over her and tucked it in at her sides, like an embrace.

If there was a worse fate in store for him
than having to watch Elizabeth’s shoulders shake with silent sobs and being
unable to offer her comfort, Darcy did not wish to know what it was. This was
excruciating. He hated having caused her pain. Even worse, the fact that she
was finding the revelation of Wickham’s ill deeds so painful seemed to suggest
she had come to care for that blackguard, and
that
idea made Darcy want
to pound his head against the wall.

Why in heaven’s name had he decided to
depart from Hertfordshire when it meant leaving Elizabeth at Wickham’s mercy?
He must have been out of his mind. He should have warned her more thoroughly,
not just a cryptic comment during their one and only dance. Or he should have
forgotten all those ridiculous scruples about why he ought not make her an
offer then and there. If he had done that, she would be his wife now, and she
would be snug in his arms at Pemberley instead of freezing in a peasant’s
hut.  

Finally, after what seemed to be an
eternity, Elizabeth’s breathing became even. A breath in, a breath out, and a
tiny sigh, barely audible over the noise of the wind whipping past the cottage
– the same sounds he had heard this morning when he awoke. She must have
fallen asleep where she sat, no doubt exhausted after a night trying to sleep
on the hard pallet in the cold cottage. Thank heaven! Darcy’s shoulders sagged
as tension suddenly left him. 

The fire was growing low. Even sitting on
the hearth, Darcy shivered. Elizabeth was wrapped in both the quilt and his
topcoat, leaving him in his shirtsleeves. Stirring the fire might wake
Elizabeth, so instead Darcy added another log to it. It was slow to catch,
apparently still damp with melted snow, but once it finally caught fire, it
burned merrily, hissing and snapping.

His greatcoat was almost dry at last. That
could make the rest of their stay a little more comfortable, something which
grew more important as the day passed and the storm continued. The chances of
escaping the cottage were growing slenderer by the moment. Not that it troubled
him personally; it would mean more time with Elizabeth, but he suspected she
would not take it well. He spread the greatcoat out across the hearth to dry it
more quickly. After its soaking in the snow, the bloodstained collar, and the
cat hair sticking to it, a little soot would not make any significant
difference. Crewe would not be pleased, but that was the least of his worries.
The greatest of them was dozing on the other side of the hearth.

***

Elizabeth eyed Darcy as he handed her the
cup filled with hot water. Had he truly filled the kettle and put it over the
fire himself?  The warmth was most welcome, in any case, especially as she
had no idea what to make of the change in Darcy’s behavior.

Since she had awoken, her eyes still
swollen from crying, he had been acting as if they were at a public gathering,
asking her about events in Meryton and her family’s health, telling her about
his sister’s preferences in music and how winter in Derbyshire differed from
that in London. It was starting to make her nervous. What was he thinking that
would make him be so, well, distant? After the intimacy of some of their
discussions, not to mention their disagreements, it felt wrong to be playing at
ladies and gentlemen again. But it was a relief not to be quarreling. It was
hard enough being trapped with him. 

The wind whistled over the cottage,
sending a gust down the chimney that caused the flames to jump. How long had
she slept?  “What time is it?”

Darcy checked his pocket watch, then
closed it with a snap and shook his head. “Half three. Even if the storm abated
this minute, there would not be daylight enough to get us back to Meryton.” His
voice seemed oddly muted.

Elizabeth said nothing. What was there to
say, after all? She had never liked being indoors for long periods of time, and
after being trapped so long in the tiny space without even a view of the
outdoors, the walls of the cottage seemed to be closing in on her. They had
broken their fast on the last of the venison and apples, and her stomach
gurgled with hunger. The wind had picked up again, and she could barely hear
herself think over the constant refrain of its howling. It felt as if the smell
of smoke and wet wool would cling to her forever. And then there was Mr. Darcy,
always only a few feet away. If only she could burrow down under a feather
comforter and hide there until the storm went away! But all they had was the
thin quilt, and there was no place to hide.

Reluctantly she rose to her feet. If they
were not to be reduced to eating raw onions and turnips tonight, she would have
to think of something to do with them. How hard could it be to make soup? She
rummaged through the larder and brought out the onions, carrots and turnips.

It was simple enough to figure out how to
cut up the carrots and turnips with the small knife she had found, though her
pieces were distinctly uneven and she almost cut herself more than once. The
onions were more mysterious. The brown, papery globes looked nothing like
cooked onions. Finally she cut them into quarters, then poured all the chunks
into the kettle. Rubbing her arm over her stinging eyes, she filled it with
water and added a handful of barley, then placed it in the fire. If they were
fortunate, it just might be edible eventually – or perhaps not. With a
heavy sigh, she sank down on the hearth again.

Darcy sat down by her side, his arm only
inches from hers. “I know it is not what you wish to hear, yet since we have no
choice but to pass another night here, it seems impossible your reputation will
be untouched. I do not understand why the idea of marriage to me is so
repugnant to you. Most women would be delighted to make such a match.”

Not this again! Apparently her reprieve
was over. “I am not most women!”

“No, that you are not. Is there another
man, then, who you wish to marry?”

She jumped to her feet, needing some
distance from him. “Is that the only reason you can imagine I might not want to
marry you?”

He took his time in answering. “I am
attempting to understand your reluctance.”

Running out and losing herself in the
storm was starting to seem like an appealing alternative. “
You
do not
wish to marry
me
, and the only reason you are even considering it is
because you feel you have no other choice. You yourself have said your temper
is resentful, and I do not wish to be resented by my husband. That should be
reason enough.”

“It is true I would not have made the
offer were it not for our circumstances, but if you think I dislike the idea, I
most assuredly do not.”

“Even if I were to believe you are not
personally averse to the match, can you tell me with honesty that you would
never be embarrassed by my family? That there would not be moments when you would
regret tying yourself to a woman of such low connections? You need not give me
an answer to these questions, for I know it already.”

He hesitated, his brows drawn together. “I
cannot deny it, but I would not blame
you
for any of it.”

“So you say now, and no doubt you even
mean it, since you seem to feel you owe me your life. But years from now, when
my charms have worn thin and my imperfections become more manifest, it will be
different. Then my lack of a proper education will become an irritant, and you
will realize that had I not found you at the side of the road, someone else
likely would have done so soon enough.”

He frowned. “You think me so fickle and
unfair?”

“I think you are human. I have seen what
happens in an unequal marriage, when a man loses his respect for the wife he
once wished desperately to marry. I will
never
agree to be in that
position, to be treated with scorn, not for all the riches of Pemberley.”

He shook his head. “That would not be my
way.”

“Not deliberately, perhaps, but I have seen
your scorn for those you feel to be your inferiors. Sooner or later, you would
feel that way about me.” To her horror, her voice cracked on her final words.
She turned her face away from him in the vain hope of hiding the hot tears
burning her eyes. 

Mr. Darcy might be at a loss for how to
respond to her refusal, but he had no hesitation when it came to answering her
distress. His arms closed around her, holding her to his chest. She should have
pushed him away, but the comfort he offered was too tempting and she felt
warmer in his embrace than she had all day. She swallowed a sob.

“Shh, Elizabeth. All is well. I truly do
not mean to distress you,” he said softly.

“I know that,” she whispered into his
chest, rising and falling with each breath. “It is just too much, the storm
going on and on, and the cold, the lack of food, nowhere to go and nothing to
do.”

“I can do nothing about the storm or being
trapped here, but perhaps I can at least help you be warm for a time. Come.”
Taking her hand, he led her back to the hearth, where he added two more logs to
the fire, poking it to make it burn hotter. 

“Will there be enough
wood left for the night?” Elizabeth crouched down on the pallet and held her
cold fingers out to the blaze. At least one side of her would be warm.

“I can always bring in more, since now I
know where to find the woodpile.” Darcy sat beside her, and a heavy weight came
around her shoulders. It was his many-caped greatcoat, and he had wrapped it
around both of them. His arm encircled her shoulders as well, and he urged her
closer to him until her side pressed against his. She still felt the cold deep
in her bones, but there was no doubt this was the warmest she had been. 

She should not permit this intimacy,
though. Reluctantly she said, “But if someone discovers us…”

“If someone discovers us now, it does not
matter whether you are across the room or in my arms. Either way you would be
hopelessly compromised. The question is whether you would rather be warm or
cold when you are compromised.”

She giggled. “Warm. Definitely warm. I
adore your greatcoat. Why do they never make pelisses out of such lovely heavy
wool? I suppose it would look too unfashionable.” She snuggled deeper into the
coat and Mr. Darcy’s arm.

“In summer, I envy the ladies in their
light muslins and short sleeves, while we gentlemen must suffer with shirt,
waistcoat and topcoat, no matter how hot it may be. But in winter, I am
thankful for all the layers men must wear, and wonder how ladies keep from
freezing.”

“It is difficult for me even to imagine
the warmth of a summer day right now.” And a few minutes earlier, she could
never have imagined that being encircled by Mr. Darcy’s arm could be so
comforting – or pleasurable. “Or even to imagine the snow stopping. I
think I will hear the wind howling in my dreams for weeks!”

His chest vibrated with a rumble of
laughter. “It has been rather constant.” 

Something poked at the greatcoat, and a
furry face appeared inside it. How could she have forgotten the cat? “Hello,
Snowball,” she said as the cat stretched out across both Darcy’s leg and
hers. 

“Snowball?”

“It seems appropriate, does it not?”

He scratched the cat’s head. “Indeed.”

Snowball began to purr. Elizabeth was
tempted to share the sentiment. This position was altogether too pleasant, but
what must Darcy think of her? “I hope you know I do not usually behave in this
manner.”

“I could hardly miss that fact, since it
took you this long to realize the best way to stay warm,” he teased. “I know it
is unlike you, and unlike me as well. But this is a time out of time, and the
usual rules do not apply.”

“Most of those rules would have been
impossible to follow.” Somehow that gave her permission to rest her head
against his shoulder. What would she think in a few days when she looked back
on this moment? Would she be horrified with herself, or wonder why she had not
enjoyed it more while she could?

“Under normal circumstances, we do not
have to worry about freezing to death or starving. The reason we can have so
many rules about propriety is because our servants take care of those critical
problems for us, so well that perhaps we forget how important they are. More
important than rules, in any case.”

“Definitely more important,” agreed
Elizabeth.

They sat together in companionable silence
for some time until the smell of onions began to permeate the air.

“Do you suppose your delightful concoction
is ready yet?” Darcy asked.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I have no
idea, as you know perfectly well. We shall have to be adventurous and discover
the answer the hard way. Or rather,
I
shall be adventurous.”

“I insist the privilege is mine.” He urged
Snowball onto her lap, then wrapped his greatcoat around her before using a
stick to move the kettle away from the fire. “As soon as it cools a bit, that
is.”

His smile truly was quite devastatingly
attractive. It made her breath catch in her chest. “You are a very brave man,
then.”

“Either brave or very hungry. The aroma is
good, in any case.”