Relieved that Mr. Parker was no longer intimidating her sister, Elizabeth was equally curious at how Miss Denham had managed to subdue him. She and Mr. Darcy were standing near the other window, and she stepped that way in order to peer through the diamond latticework.
The waxing moon was bright, no longer impeded by the storm clouds that had shrouded the castle since their arrival. She looked out at the landscape, and Mr. Darcy came to join her. He glanced downward and drew Elizabeth’s attention to a narrow strip of muddy embankment along the castle, sloping down toward the moat. There was something, veiled in shadow, at the edge of the dark water.
“I believe that must be Sir Walter’s raft of casks,” he whispered to her.
“They must be considering making a run for it, given what they are guilty of.” Elizabeth shuddered a little, and he wrapped one arm around her as they stared out the window together. Behind them, their companions continued to bicker, and Lady Susan was loudly encouraging the discord.
“I suppose it is tempting to escape all this,” Elizabeth mused. “Do you think Mr. Tilney is telling the truth about the royals coming? It may be our only chance of rescue.”
“I am not as trusting as I once was,” he said somberly. “I want to believe him, but only time will tell. Today was our first day without rain; perhaps by tomorrow, the roads will be manageable, if indeed the princess and her brother are coming to Clwyd Castle. Your mother….”
Elizabeth met his eye and smiled sadly. “I do not know what I believe, or even what Iwishto believe. The arrival of the royals would be our salvation, if we do not find the key to unlock the drawbridge. And yet, I have had little time to think of….”
He nodded. “You do not have to say it,” he murmured. He squeezed her hands in his and leaned his forehead downward until it brushed her own. “We may dare to hope tomorrow will be a calmer day. With Sir Walter locked away, and Rushworth’s killer soon to be exposed, we shall have the peace of safety. We might find some scenic, serene spot to sit and ponder everything.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and let his soothing tones wash over her, and she conjured up the scene he described. There had been a pretty little place in the courtyard by the well, a bench beneath a small willow tree; the perfect place for a fanciful and relaxing interlude with the man she had come to love. She could easily imagine herself sitting beside him, bearing her innermost thoughts to the man whose counsel she had come to cherish so dearly.
She looked up at him and smiled. “And how shall you occupy yourself, while I ponder the many revelations that have confounded everything I thought I knew of myself?”
“Hmm.” He reached up and stroked his chin as if contemplating. “I could read you poetry – but wait, that would never do. It should only drive away your love, is that not so, my dear one?”
She laughed. “I had always thought that I should only laugh at any man reciting verse to me, which may prove to be the case. But then, I had never imagined I should love a man of such gravitas; the attempt may be worth proving me wrong.”
“I would never dare dothat,” he drawled. “I have heard much of Bingley’s philosophy, which is that a wife is always correct in all things.”
“In his case, I am sure that is just; Jane is without flaw. I am a different creature entirely, and I was utterly wrong about you.”
Mr. Darcy smiled warmly at her. “You believed me to be without any proper feeling, I daresay.”
“I thought you quite a villain, and I am very well pleased at being proven utterly wrong. You challenge me, sir, and I believethatmust be your philosophy in our marriage.”
“I will quarrel with you unrelentingly,” he chided her. “What did you say to me when we were walking together?Anything but an agreeable man?”
Elizabeth boldly raked her eyes down his chest and then back up, smiling brightly as she met his eye. “Having just seen you chop wood in your shirtsleeves, I cannot be trusted to recall anything else from that occasion.”
“Minx,” he breathed.
And then the sound of quarreling grew louder; the gentlemen had returned.
“But I do not not understand,” Mr. Tilney said to Mr. Bertram, as they lingered in the doorway. “If you were taking a headache powder, why would you have come from Crawford’s room?”
“It was closer than my own, and I knew he had some powders,” Mr. Bertram said.
“You could not have taken another twenty paces to your own room?” Sir Edward furrowed his brow and scowled at Mr. Bertram, who began stammering indignantly.
“But… I… well… you see….”
“What is this about?” Lady Susan still lingered near the door, and she addressed the gentlemen as if invigorated by this fresh intrigue. “Mr. Bertram, were you not assisting the other gentlemen in locking Sir Walter away? After a sound thrashing, I hope.”
Sir Edward looked sharply at Mr. Bertram as the gentlemen stepped into the room. “No, he did not come to assist us. We discovered him in the corridor, sneaking out of Crawford’s room.”
Mrs. Rushworth charged at her brother. “After we agreed to search the guest rooms? What are you about, Tom? Planting evidence against Henry?”
Mr. Bertram looked panicked as his sister flew at him. He shoved her away, and grabbed Mr. Tilney by the throat, pinning him against the door jamb. He reached into Mr. Tilney’s coat and retrieved the keyring, then pushed the flailing Mr. Tilney aside. He hastened into the corridor, slammed the door shut, and locked them in.
Mrs. Rushworth and Mr. Tilney were in a shambles on the floor, but Mr. Willoughby clambered over them to move into the parlor. That door slammed shut as well; he pounded on it, screaming oaths at Mr. Bertram.
“Cathy, you have the other set of keys,” Lady Allen said.
