Elizabeth gathered up a sensible bundle and smiled. "You have my solemn word, I shall take care, Mrs Goose."
???
Elizabeth crossed the yard and almost immediately caught sight of Mr Darcy. He stood near the entrance speaking with a group of labourers and a soot-stained man who appeared to bethe village blacksmith, a rough sketch spread across the back of a cart. His coat had been discarded despite the chill and his shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly above his wrists. One sleeve bore a streak of mud that suggested he had not merely been giving instructions but lending his own hands to the work.
One of the men pointed towards the road and shook his head. Mr Darcy listened without interruption before bending over the sketch and making some alteration with a carpenter's pencil. Whatever he suggested seemed to satisfy them all, for the blacksmith folded the paper, tucked it beneath his arm and strode away calling for the men to follow him.
Mr Darcy remained where he was for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before turning towards the stables. An elderly gentleman intercepted him. His clothes were respectable but worn and he held his hat in both hands with evident embarrassment. Elizabeth was too far away to hear their conversation, but she saw the old man shake his head several times before Mr Darcy quietly slipped something into his palm and closed the man's fingers over it.
The gentleman protested, but Mr Darcy smiled slightly and said something that caused the other's shoulders to relax. He bowed, replaced his hat and walked away with considerably lighter steps than he had approached. Mr Darcy watched him go only a moment before turning back towards the stablesas though the matter had already passed entirely from his thoughts.
Elizabeth stood looking after him for several seconds before remembering the linen in her arms. Feeling faintly foolish that she had allowed herself to stand gawping across the yard, she shifted the bundle against her hip and continued towards a smaller building that served as a lodging house for guests with smaller purses. She had scarcely taken more than a few steps when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Miss… Mrs… that is… Madam"
She turned to find Mr Darcy approaching, removing his gloves as he walked. He looked tired and hesitant as his dark eyes bored into her own. Her breath caught in her throat.
"I hope Mrs Goose has not entrusted you with anything too strenuous," he said, his voice low.
Elizabeth felt herself flush under his gaze and looked down at the bundle in her arms, "I have recently been promoted."
His brow furrowed.
"I began with folding sheets. I am now considered equal to carrying clean linen from one building to another. Mrs Goose informs me that if I distinguish myself there is every possibility I shall eventually be trusted with towels."
To her delight, he laughed. Just a small, almost nervous laugh. But the thawing of relations after the previous night was very welcome. Something released in her chest and she wondered why his impressions of her mattered at all, why it should be that this man—that she had disliked so much just days ago—should have such sway over emotions. It was the situation she supposed, that and her illness. It was a strange situation and therefore a strange emotional response was to be expected.
"I congratulate you on your advancement," he said with a small smile. His dimples were gone almost as quickly as they appeared.
"I confess I had hoped for something a little more exciting. She informed me this morning that if I overtaxed myself my husband would have her hide."
Mr Darcy closed his eyes briefly, and then once again his gaze found and locked with hers. Who was this man? This apparently kind, useful but infuriating man. He stepped towards her, just a small movement, but she felt the reduced distance between them acutely.
The rain had almost ceased altogether now and the inn yard was alive with activity. Men carried heavy timbers towards the road, stable boys hurried backwards and forwards with tools, whilst somewhere beyond the gate the steady sound of hammering rang through the damp morning air.
Elizabeth nodded towards the cart where the rough sketches still lay, weighed down with stones. "You appear to have found yourself another occupation."
Mr Darcy followed her gaze and shrugged. "There seemed little purpose in waiting for someone else to improve matters."
"So you have decided to improve them yourself?"
"I have merely tried to organise those who actually know what they are doing."
"You looked remarkably authoritative from where I was standing."
"I assure you the blacksmith has forgotten more about repairing bridges than I shall ever know."
"Yet they all appeared content to let you direct them."
"They were all attempting different solutions at once. It seemed quicker to persuade them to settle upon one."
"And have they?"
"I believe so."
He looked towards the road where several wagons stood waiting.
"If we can shore up the bank before nightfall we should be able to get supplies across on foot tomorrow. It will likely be able to carry coaches in a day or so, perhaps longer, but at least food andmedicines can be moved. We cannot know what is happening at the bridge closer to Barley Cross, but I am sure that is being managed as well. We shall hopefully have word from the Frosts and be able to retrieve your father’s carriage before long."
