“The lady asked to see you, sir,” she said.
I gestured to the door for her to precede me and upon topping the riser of the last stair, I was shown into a little room. I stood uncomfortably at the door, a little dismayed that Mrs Hamilton had disappeared back down the stairs.
I did not know why I expected Elizabeth Bennet to be sitting in bed with shawls and a handkerchief to her nose, but, of course, she stood at the little window, neatly dressed and bright-eyed.
“You are no worse for wear,” I blurted out awkwardly.
“Forgive me for asking you to come to me, Mr Darcy. I did not want you to think I was so half-hearted I could not come down to breakfast,” she said, “but Mrs Hamilton would not have it. I am to stay in this room like fine porcelain in a case, I believe.”
“In this she is very right,” I said. “I would rather you not eat in the kitchen either.”
“But I assume you have done so?”
“I can, upon occasion, be flexible. Were you warm?”
“Delightfully so. Though I am told you had to sleep on the floor.”
“As you see, I have survived,” I said with a faint smile.
“And Mr Keller, Mr Carsten? They have not fallen ill, have they? Your horses, are they still standing where we left them?” And then, a little sharply, “What, sir? What have I said to earn such a stare?”
“If I am staring, it is in admiration. You have asked after my people, my horses, and me. I assume you will next ask if Mrs Hamilton has been properly paid and if Abby has had her porridge yet. If you knew he was here, you would also ask if her brother, who is in the woodshed, is perhaps too young to use the axe.”
I paused to look earnestly into her eyes. “You have not once complained, and I can think of no other lady on earth who would not be raging at me in this moment for what she has endured.”
“Oh,” she said with a faint blush. We fell silent as she looked at the floor in embarrassment, and I continued to stare at her.
She then rallied, met my gaze and said, “I-I wonder what we are to do next, sir? My uncle must be mad with worry.”
“I know it. I would send an express, but we would likely reach him ourselves before we could find a rider with a swift horse. We are deep in the country, and did not even make as far as the village proper. I am afraid our options are fewer than I hoped. Keller has gone to find fodder and information, and meanwhile, we wait. Might you like to sit in the parlour? We could perhaps brave Mrs Hamilton’s disapproval if you were to be sat tenderly upon her best chair.”
“I would like that very much, Mr Darcy,” she said with a most delicious chuckle, “but only if it is herbestchair.”
“I see you have lost none of your humour.”
“And I see you have found some of your own,” she said archly. “Lead on, Mr Darcy. Let us wait for news together, shall we?”
CHAPTER 13
Since we had been up before dawn, it was only half past eight when Keller returned from his errand, driving a mule and a farm cart with hay for the horses.
I met him outside. “What news, then?”
“I fear this is the best I could conjure, Mr Darcy.”
I blinked. “A mule!”
“There are no horses to spare, sir. Nor men. The farming here is poor and most of them have gone to fight the French. I assume what horses they had were taken by the army.”
I stood speechless, conscious that Miss Elizabeth had stepped out and was standing at my elbow, party to this information. By her presence alone, I was aware I was on the verge of an ungentlemanly eruption of curses. Thankfully, she spoke before I had a classic fit of temper so peculiar to rich men, albeit with the intent to tease me.
“He looks to be an amiable mule, Mr Keller. Is he to see us to London?”
I was not yet prepared to be amused. “Can we not use one of our wheelers?” I demanded.
“Not with this harness, Mr Darcy. This beast is half the size of a draught horse.”
Mortified by this development, I turned abruptly to Miss Elizabeth and bowed. “Forgive me for this additional indignity, ma’am,” I said curtly. “Perhaps you should stay with Mrs Hamilton while?—”
