“I hit the road hard,” Alice said, pressing a hand to her ribs as if she still felt the bruise. “I could not breathe at first. My knees were skinned bloody. But I got up. And I ran. Through a hedge. Across a field. I tore my skirt climbing a gate, and I kept running until I could not feel my legs. I do not even know how far I made it. Just that when I collapsed, it was at the foot of a stranger’s door.”
Elizabeth rose to her feet, tears pricking at her eyes. “And he—this stranger—he helped you?”
Alice nodded, finally looking her in the eye. “Yes, my lady. He opened his door and found me bleeding and filthy and crying like a child. He said he had nothing to offer but porridge and clean sheets, but I thought it was heaven.” Her voice faltered. “He never asked what I had done. Only what I needed.”
“He took you in?”
Alice nodded. “He let me stay. Fed me. Nursed me. When I could walk again, I helped with the garden, the chickens. We… grew fond of one another.”
A silence fell.
“And then?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Alice’s eyes flicked upward. “We married. Quietly. My Bernard is kind, my lady. So kind. But he used everything he had to care for me. We live simple, but I wanted to work—to repay it. So I came back.”
Elizabeth stared at her in stunned wonder. “You… came backhere?”
Alice gave a small nod. “I thought it would be best—they knew me here. But the housekeeper said I was disgraced, and she did not mean to take me back, until Kenny from the stables spoke up for me. Said he had it on authority from some gentleman from the government that I’d been collected to attend you at some royal house. What was I to do but agree? It’s only until I’ve saved enough. My Bernard is waiting. I just— I wanted to do right by him. By you.”
Elizabeth stood without thinking, crossed the room, and drew Alice into a fierce embrace.
“You foolish, wonderful girl,” she whispered. “You should have asked to speak with me the moment you returned. You need not stay a single hour longer.”
Alice looked confused. “But—”
“Come with me.” Elizabeth dragged Alice back to the room she had been sleeping in, a protective arm around the maid’s shoulders as others passed through the door. Once they were alone, she broke away only long enough to pull open the drawer of her writing desk and drag out a heavy locked box.
She opened it and spilled the contents—coins and folded banknotes—into a cloth satchel she laid out on her mattress. Every bit of her own savings, collected from gifts and careful accounting over the past years. A few hundred pounds, probably, but she had never bothered counting it. She pulled the corners of the cloth together and tied them at the top.
“Take it,” she said, pressing it into Alice’s hands. “It is far less than you deserve, after all you endured for my sake. Go home. Go to your husband. And write to me. I want to know you are safe. Happy.”
Tears spilled over Alice’s cheeks. “My lady—Lady Elizabeth—I cannot—”
“You can,” Elizabeth replied, folding her fingers around the satchel. “You will. Quickly, before someone else comes in and sees.”
Alice clutched the purse to her chest, tears spilling over. “Thank you. Thank you, my lady.”
“Do not.” Elizabeth put out a hand. “Do not thank me. This is more than a debt and larger than what coins can repay, but I hope it will at least see you into a new life.”
As Alice slipped out, still clutching the coin bag against her chest, Elizabeth stood motionless beside the door. Her hands, empty now, remained outstretched for a moment longer before she drew them back and clenched them at her sides.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that used to comfort her, and now only made her skin crawl.
She turned toward the narrow dressing table, ran her fingers over the edge. The wood was scarred and warped from age—never meant for someone of her station, yet lately, it was the only place in the house that felt hers.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. A fine gown. A house full of staff. A title.
None of it mattered.
She reached for the ribbon at her throat and pulled it loose.
There had to be a way. If Alice could walk barefoot into the night, bleeding and half-dead, and still find her way into the arms of the love of her life—
Then Elizabeth would find hers.
“Mr.Darcy—thisjustarrivedfor you, sir.”
He looked up slowly, the page’s voice barely registering over the throbbing behind his right eye. He had been staring at the same report for nearly an hour and had absorbed none of it.
