Darcy copied his cousin’s movements, and the two made their way down the long drive. He leaned forward slightly,peering through the window into the moonlit fields, his breath tight in his chest.
“There,” Richard murmured quietly.
Darcy followed his gaze.
Beyond the hedgerow and across the yard, the faint outline of a carriage could be seen near the stables. The long shape was unmistakable even in the dim light.
Darcy let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding, the knot loosening slightly in his chest. “Then she must still be here.”
They continued on foot, and the house rose before them in quiet darkness, its windows black against the night. Darcy led the way around the side of the house until they stood beneath Elizabeth’s window. For a moment he simply looked up at it, then he stooped and picked up a few small pebbles from the frozen ground.
Richard watched with mild amusement as Darcy tossed one lightly upward. It tapped faintly against the glass.
Nothing.
Darcy tried again.
Tap.
Tap.
Still nothing.
He felt suddenly absurd—like a lovestruck hero from some sentimental romance novel attempting to summon his lady from her chamber window.
Richard folded his arms. “If her sister answers, I shall endeavor to look surprised.”
Darcy ignored him and threw one last pebble.
The window remained dark and silent.
Darcy’s jaw tightened.
“Either she sleeps very soundly,” Richard said, “or she is not able to answer.”
“I do not like the second possibility,” growled Darcy.
“Come,” Richard said quietly. “Let us try another entrance.”
They circled toward the back of the house where the kitchens lay. A faint smell of banked embers lingered in the cold air, but the servants’ door stood firmly shut.
Darcy tried the handle.
Locked.
Richard tried it as well, testing the hinges.
“Secure,” he murmured.
Darcy stepped back and looked at the dark house.
“What now?” Richard asked.
Darcy ran a hand through his hair.
“I wish I had a ladder.”
Richard gave a quiet laugh.
