Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (7 page)

“It smells like stewed onions, carrots and
turnips, which is hardly surprising, as that is what it is.”

“It smells like hot food, which is
something I barely remember at this point.”  He rejoined her under the
greatcoat and took her hand back in his, squeezing it gently. “Not that I am
complaining, mind you. The company has been excellent.”

“You mean that the company, like the food,
is excellently warm,” she teased.

“The excellent company keeping me warm is
far superior to the warmest of foods. Now, where is that spoon?”

“The one which is right in front of you?”

“Ah, yes, that one. I must be blinded by
the beauty of the excellent company.”

“Or the smell of hot food has gone to your
head!” Who would have guessed Mr. Darcy had the capacity for banter and light
flirtation?

He stirred the pot, then drew out a spoonful
and blew on it. Raising it in her direction, he said solemnly, “To blizzards
– may they always bring such companions.”

Elizabeth choked back a laugh as he sipped
from the spoon. “Your face is a study! You might as well say straight out it is
terrible.”

He eyed the spoon, then took another sip.
“I would not describe it as terrible. It tastes of onions, carrots and turnips
– but mostly of onions.”

“I cannot see why. I put in as many
carrots as I did onions. Besides, have you never heard of onion soup?”

“The mysteries of cooking are far beyond
me, Miss Elizabeth.” He dipped the spoon in the soup again, then held it in
front of her mouth. “Come, it is your turn to give an opinion.”

With an arch look at him through her
eyelashes, she obediently sipped from the spoon he held, then pursed her lips
as if in thought. “There is a trace of onion flavor, it is true; but I would
have to judge it as passable for my first try. Why, in another day or two, I
shall be as knowledgeable as a French chef!”

“A
trace
of onion flavor?” said
Darcy in mock indignation. “A mere
trace
?”

“Admittedly, it is perhaps a rather
large
trace. But I only put in four onions, although there were a great many more I
could have added. I was successful in my other culinary goal, though.”

“And what was that?”

“It is hot, just as I wished it to be
– though I will have to give some credit to your fire for that.”

“I am striving to improve my skills at
keeping things – and people – warm,” he said.

“Constant practice is the key to success,
so pray, do continue to keep me warm. And if you object to my fine onion soup,
why, there will be all the more for me.” She attempted to tug the spoon from
his hand.

He pulled it away from her. “Oh, no, Miss
Elizabeth! I must have my share of your very warm cooking. I will give you
another spoonful, then one for me.”

“Mr. Darcy, I have not been fed by another
person since I was out of leading strings!”

“Then it shall be another new experience
for you. We have only one spoon, and it seems I cannot trust you with it.”

She nearly choked on the next spoonful as
his mock-stern expression made her laugh. “And I was accustomed to thinking you
too serious!”

“I am very serious indeed, especially when
it comes to hot food.” His actions followed suit.

Poking him in the ribs with her elbow, she
said more out of playfulness than necessity, “My turn.”

He held up the spoon for her once more.
“Your wish is my command.”

She tried to take a sip. “This is harder
than it looks! I have no idea how infants manage it.” Finally she swallowed it
down, then licked a few spilled drops from her lower lip.

Darcy’s hand stopped in mid-air as he
stared at her mouth. Had she missed some soup and allowed it to dribble down
her chin? How embarrassing that would be. Once again she ran her tongue over her
lips.

“You may have the spoon.” Darcy’s voice
sounded hoarse as he dropped the spoon on the hearth.

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. Once again
she had managed to offend him without even knowing what she had done. And just
when she had been enjoying his company! Was it too much effort for him to hand
her the spoon? “Very well,” she said equably. Unwilling to go hungry because of
Mr. Darcy’s moods, she proceeded to eat a few mouthfuls of the soup, then
replaced the spoon precisely where he had left it.

Even the soup was less satisfying now, not
that it had been flavorful to start out with. Perhaps she should have cut up
the onions more or removed the papery skin which now floated in the soup. It
might be hot, but her stomach still felt hollow. There must be something else
she could do. Were not men generally in better spirits when they were not
hungry?

On inspiration, she braved the cold and
left Darcy’s side in search of the stale bread she had seen the previous day.
It was as hard as a rock, but she brought it back to the hearth anyway.
Unfortunately, breaking off a chunk of it was more difficult than she had
anticipated. She was overly conscious of Darcy observing her vain efforts.

Finally he took the bread from her without
a word. He raised it over his head, and then smashed it down on the edge of the
hearth. The loaf broke into several pieces, or perhaps it would be more
accurate to say it shattered. Could bread shatter?

“Thank you.” She did not look at him as
she dunked a chunk of bread into the soup. She let it soak briefly, then
removed it and held the dripping end over the kettle.

There was no way to eat such a thing
gracefully, but what did she care for Mr. Darcy’s good opinion? She clearly
could not keep it long. Cautiously she leaned forward and bit into the soggy
bread. Sitting back, she chewed it slowly, then swallowed.

“I cannot say I recommend the dish highly,
but it is preferable to going hungry,” she said.

“A clever idea.” He followed suit with
another piece of bread.

At least he no longer sounded upset. She
would keep her peace in hope it would last.

The bread and soup disappeared quickly,
leaving nothing for them to do but to sit huddled together for warmth.
Initially Elizabeth resolved to say nothing, but the discordance between their
physical closeness and emotional distance finally won out over her reluctance.

“You look very serious. Is something that
matter – apart from the usual issues like being stranded here in the cold
with an impertinent miss instead of a cook?”

“Not at all. I cannot imagine sharing my
coat with my cook, so it is just as well she is not here. I am merely
attempting to keep my thoughts of that impertinent miss to those of a brotherly
nature.”

That was not what she had expected to
hear. “From what I can see, you seem to be succeeding in that.”

“Do I?” His voice had an odd inflection.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “I
do not understand.”

He let out a long breath through his
teeth. “In fact, I am failing abysmally at it, and have been ever since I gave
you that spoonful of soup.”

“Oh.” Was that why he had withdrawn so
suddenly? How was she to respond? Her lips began to tingle.

“I do not like it, but I must ask a favor
of you.”

Her pulses grew rapid. Was he going to ask
for a kiss? She had been thinking of the last one all day, and despite her
brave words earlier, she did not know if she would refuse another. “What is
it?”

“Do not permit me any liberties tonight.”

Stung, she said, “I was not planning to!”

He sighed. “I know, but sometimes these
things do not turn out as we plan. There are good reasons why young ladies are
never allowed to be alone with men. So I am telling you now that, no matter how
many rules we break, it would be very unwise to let me kiss you. And if I am
fortunate, the mere act of saying so will be enough to prevent me from making a
fool of myself by attempting to do so.”

She straightened, shifting so that no part
of her side came in contact with his. “You need have no worries on my part.”

He laid his head in his hand. “Elizabeth,
I beg your indulgence. I truly do not mean to quarrel with you or to imply you
are lacking in any way. You are not. I, however, am sadly lacking in self
control, and I said you would be safe with me. Above all else, I do not wish to
betray your trust. But I am only human.”

Again she had misjudged him, thinking him
angry when he was struggling with himself – over his attraction to her.
And he had not complained about it until she had asked him directly what
troubled him. She hunted for the proper words to make her amends. “I am sorry
the situation is so difficult. Despite my ruffled feathers a few minutes ago,
if there is any way I can ease the burden, I hope you will tell me. Would it be
better if we did not sit together?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, if
anything…”

“Yes?”

His voice was muffled. “If anything, it
would be easier if I could hold you closer.”

“I should not let you kiss me, but I
should
let you hold me? Tell me, do men always make this little sense when it
comes to these matters?”

To her relief, he chuckled. “Yes. We make
no sense at all when it comes to women.”

“Well, that relieves my mind,” she said
with mock tartness. “I would hate to think you would make sense.” She
hesitated, then added softly, “I do not mind if you wish to hold me.”

How he looked at her again. “You do not
mind?” He sounded uncertain.

Her pulses raced. “It would be…
comforting.” It was not the correct description, but how could she tell him she
longed to be closer to him, to resolve all their quarrels and find happiness
together?

He made a sound of assent; then, before
Elizabeth knew what was happening, he scooped her up and deposited her in his
lap. He wrapped his greatcoat around her so it covered them both except for the
area directly in front of her. Elizabeth reached out and completed the circle
by pulling up the quilt to cover the remaining area, enveloping them in warmth
as Darcy cocooned her in his arms. With a sigh, she rested her head on his
shoulder, breathing in the scent of spice, musk and wood smoke. Oh, this was
far too pleasant! Safe, comforted, yet feeling oddly alive, as if every inch of
her were experiencing sensation for the very first time. And warm – oh,
so warm! She curled and uncurled her toes in her stocking just because she had
to do
something
. “Better?” she asked.

He rested his cheek on the top of her
head. “Yes.”

How could he think this was easier? Now
she was the one struggling with thoughts quite inappropriate for a young lady
to have towards a gentleman in whom she had no serious intentions.
Unfortunately, she was no longer certain she did want to part from him after
the storm ended. Oh, how unfair it was for him to make her want things she
could not have! All her reasons for refusing him were still valid –
except that she wanted quite desperately to kiss him, to make him laugh, to
have him gaze at her with passion. Why did
this
have to be her weakness?
Could she not have settled for flirting with the officers as Lydia and Kitty
did? But no, she had to want Mr. Darcy, of all men.

If only there were something separating
them, something to stop her from giving in to the temptation to press her lips
to his. With a sudden movement, she pulled the quilt over her head.

Darcy’s body stiffened. He lifted a corner
of the quilt and peered under it at her. “Are you attempting to stay warm, or
is something the matter?”

She ducked her head. It was remarkably
difficult to lie when seated in someone’s lap. “I am hiding,” she informed him
with great dignity.

“From me?”

“From everything.”

“There is no one here apart from me to see
you.”

“You, and the fire, and the walls, and the
roof, and the cupboards, and the snow.” She stopped herself before adding the
town of Meryton and the entirety of England and the West Indies as well.
Everything that represented society, expectations and limitations.

“Perhaps I should join you, then.” She
could hear his smile more than see it as he ducked under the quilt with her.”

It had felt too intimate before, and now
it was double so. The warmth of his breath wafted over her cheeks. “That would
defeat the entire purpose.”

“How so? You are still safe from the fire,
the walls, the roof, and the snow.” He sounded amused and at ease.

Resignedly she tipped her head back to
look at him, or at least at the vague shape she could see by the hint of
firelight finding its way through the think quilt. Why did he have to attract
her so? Even at the Meryton assembly she had been aware of him.

“What is it, Elizabeth?” His voice was
tinged with concern now.

“Do you think…” She lost her courage for a
minute, and touched her tongue to her dry lips. “Do you think you are the only
one who finds this situation difficult?”