He nudged the plate toward her without comment.
She narrowed her eyes at him but accepted the offering, chewing the rest in silence before pushing the final bite back his way.
“For all this,” she muttered, brushing crumbs from her fingers, “I hope someone, somewhere, is pleased with the results. The whole of England is rumbling, and what do we have to show for it? Stale bread, dried-up sausages, and an assassin’s bounty on my head.”
Darcy said nothing, but his jaw twitched. He turned to the door hinge again and gave it another careful turn of the cloth.
Elizabeth stretched out on her stool. “We ought to go to America,” she said brightly. “Disappear entirely. I have heard they outlawed nobility, rejected kings, and run about happily without a single overfed marquess or bobbing old earl to tell them what to do.”
That earned her a glance—faint amusement flickering in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“It is,” she declared. “No dukes. No viscounts or knights of the realm. No scheming courtiers or secret fixers with hippocampus rings. Just endless wilderness and bears and… and maize. I am sure Mr. Bennet told me his cousin boasted about this vegetable they call maize. I hear it is terribly wonderful.”
Darcy huffed a quiet laugh. “Ihave heard they scorch their tea and cannot tie a proper cravat to save their lives.”
“Savages!” she cried, grinning. “That settles it—we cannot possibly flee to there.”
He shook his head, turning back to the hinge, but not before she saw the smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.
She leaned in conspiratorially. “I suppose I might bear the cravat-less men, but I draw the line at over-steeped tea. What would we even drink? Coffee?”
Darcy affected a shudder. “I would rather face Maddox with both hands tied.”
Elizabeth gasped. “And here I thought you were brave.”
“I have my limits.”
“Then it is settled,” she said solemnly. “We shall remain in hiding in this noble and drafty cottage until the end of time. You may pass the days oiling hinges, and I shall perfect the art of moping. There. I think I have affected a passable frown, what do you say?” She pulled a pout and rested her chin on her hand, wiggling her eyebrows at him.
He laughed then—unexpected and full, the sound startling even himself.
“A laugh!” she crowed. “I knew you could still do it.”
His smile softened as he looked at her. “You make it difficult not to.”
“I do try, you know. I absolutely cannot abide the idea of frowning all the time, and you are just starting to make a passable companion. If we go elsewhere, I shall have to start all over on another project gentleman.”
He laughed again—freely, this time. But it faded too quickly. His smile dimmed as some shadow crossed behind his eyes. His fingers stilled on the hinge, and his eyes fell.
“What, what is this?” she asked.
His chest rose on an indrawn breath, and his mouth shaped to frame words. “I…” But then he stopped and rose from his crouch abruptly to begin working on the upper hinge of the door.
Elizabeth’s eyes rose with him, and dash it all if it was not uncomfortable to be squatting at his feet on a stool, so she sighed and clambered back to her feet on weary legs.
Darcy acted like he was ignoring her, jaw tight as he worked the pin through the joint to oil it. The movement was calculated, methodical—too methodical for a man who had just been laughing. Elizabeth watched his hands move, then his shoulders shift as he leaned into the task.
She cleared her throat softly. “Mr. Darcy?”
He did not answer right away.
She picked the empty plate up off the floor to set it on a nearby table, and returned to stop a few feet behind him. “Sir, I think it is time you told me whatever it is you are keeping from me.”
That drew his attention. He turned, slowly, his brow lifting with practiced neutrality. “What do you think I am keeping from you?”
“Oh, come,” she said, folding her arms. “What about the scandal that drove us out of Meryton yesterday? You might at least admit what it was.”
His gaze fell away. “Surely you heard everything.”
