Darcy took his place within it, his thoughts fixed upon what lay ahead rather than what lay before him.
If they returned in time—
If Miss Elizabeth remained—
If Miss Bingley did not interfere—
The conditions multiplied.
Darcy set them aside.
The task was simple.
Apologize.
Properly.
Without interruption.
Without failure.
He thought of Thomas and Toby.
Of their expressions.
Of their certainty.
They would expect success.
And if he failed again—
Darcy turned his attention to the passing landscape as the carriage began to move.
He had no desire to discover how two determined boys might enforce their displeasure.
Nor did he intend to give them cause.
The carriage set out at the appointed hour, the sky still uncertain but with no immediate sign of rain. Mrs. Bennet had insisted upon its use, and though Elizabeth would otherwise have preferred to walk, she raised no objection. Jane sat beside her in her usual composure, a quiet anticipation in her expression that reflected her temperament as much as any particular expectation for the evening.
The road to Netherfield was well known to them. The fields on either side displayed the colors of the season, the lingering warmth of recent days preserving more life than one might have expected. The air, however, carried a heaviness suggesting that the weather’s present restraint might prove temporary.
They had gone only a short distance when the carriage lurched.
The motion was abrupt enough to send Jane’s hand to the side as her balance was momentarily disturbed. Elizabeth steadied herself and turned toward her sister as the carriage rolled to a halt.
A moment passed.
Then the door opened, and the footman appeared, his expression troubled.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—there has been a difficulty.”
“What sort of difficulty?” Elizabeth asked.
“There is a crack in the axle, ma’am. A considerable one.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “A crack? Was the carriage not thoroughly sound when we set out?”
“It was, ma’am. I examined it myself when the horses were harnessed.”
