The situation would have been laughable if it had not been so miserable. She had left Longbourn intending to spend a few peaceful weeks helping her aunt with the children. Instead she had become trapped in an inn with Mr Darcy and spent the night asleep in his arms. The possibility that Mr Jones and Polly might misunderstand what they had witnessed in the library no longer seemed quite so alarming. Compared to the present situation, it was positively restrained.
She rose and crossed the room, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window. To be fair, she could not entirely blame the inhabitants of the inn for reaching such a conclusion. She had apparently arrived half-conscious in Mr Darcy's arms. But surely there was a moment when the situation could have been explained? She found the whole thing intolerable.
A knock sounded at the door. But before she could answer, Mr Darcy entered. He stopped almost immediately upon seeing her standing by the window. "I had understood you were resting." He folded his arms. "Indeed, you should be resting, you have been very ill."
Elizabeth folded her arms in turn. "Although you are apparently my husband, Mr Darcy, I was not aware you were my keeper."
His eyes travelled over her face as if searching for something. His brow creased and she noticed that there was a shadow of stubble on his face. "You still look pale."
"I nearly froze to death yesterday."
"Yes," he said, his voice catching. "I should rather not see you ill again."
Elizabeth opened her mouth, discovered she had no ready response and was deeply annoyed by the fact. She rallied quickly. "I assure you, sir, I have no immediate plans to repeat the experience. Although I am trapped with the most vexing man in the world and finding it does very little for my recovery."
She smiled archly, but the expression faltered when she saw his face. For a moment he looked exhausted and sad. Then whatever feeling had shown itself vanished and the familiar reserve returned.
"I see," he said quietly.
Elizabeth felt a small stab of guilt. It was a foolish reaction. She had merely repeated what she had told him often enough before. But it was difficult to reconcile the man who had cared for her through the night with the one she had spent weeks condemning.
He bowed stiffly. "I shall leave you to recuperate, Madam."
As the door shut behind him she felt her eyes unexpectedly fill with tears. She swiped at them and told herself that they were a lingering symptom of illness.
???
The afternoon dragged, and by four o'clock Elizabeth felt exhausted by inactivity. The rain had settled into a steady downpour and the countryside beyond the glass was a wash of grey and green. She had attempted a novel, but repeatedly discovered after several pages that she could not remember a single thing she had just read. Every thought returned eventually to the same subjects: the missing Frosts and the gentleman occupying the inn below.
A knock at the door interrupted these reflections. She looked up,"Come in."
Burke entered carrying a tray laden with tea, bread and butter and a generous slice of seed cake. He set it down upon the table beside the fire. "Mrs Goose's compliments, miss. She says that you need feeding up."
Elizabeth laughed despite herself. "Mrs Goose has very strong opinions on my health."
Burke nodded, "That she does." He stooped to settle a log more securely upon the fire and stood for a moment watching the flames catch hold.
"Has there been any news?" she asked.
Burke shook his head. "Nothing yet. Though if Mr Frost has any sense, he'll have found somewhere dry and stayed there until the roads improve."
Elizabeth wrapped both hands around her teacup. "I hope so. I keep thinking how frightened Mrs Frost must have been."
"Aye." Burke's expression softened slightly. "But worrying won't repair the bridges, miss."
They lapsed into silence for several beats. "Mr Burke," she said at last, "tell me something about your master." She gestured to the chair opposite her.
He sat down and returned his gaze to the flames. "I've known him a long time," he said eventually. "Long enough to remember him before he became the grand Mr Darcy of Pemberley."
Elizabeth looked up with interest. "What was he like as a boy?"
Burke settled back in his chair. "Very much like he is now, if I'm honest. Serious. Responsible. Inclined to worry aboutthings that hadn't happened yet. Kind with it though, don’t tell him I said this, but I couldn’t ask for a better master."
"Some of that sounds familiar."
"When his father died, everyone expected him to lean on his relations and let older, more experienced heads manage things for a while. Instead he spent months travelling over the estate meeting tenants and learning accounts. Half the people in Derbyshire thought him mad."
"How old was he?"
