Mrs Goose folded her arms taking on a look that brooked no refusal. "You've done enough for one day."
"I am perfectly capable of eating downstairs."
"You most certainly are not."
"I have been downstairs all day."
"And now you'll be upstairs all evening."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest. Mrs Goose merely pointed towards the staircase.
"Up."
Within minutes Elizabeth found herself once more in the green room with a tray balanced across her knees. It held hot broth, fresh bread, a wedge of cheese and a small baked apple which Mrs Goose had declared would 'put the colour back in her cheeks.'
She ate slowly, listening to the muffled sounds that drifted upwards from below. Voices rose and fell beneath the floorboards, doors opened and closed, boots crossed the passage outside and somewhere in the distance a child burst briefly into tears before being comforted. Gradually the noises diminished as the guests retired one by one until only an occasional burst of laughter floated up from the taproom.
Elizabeth attempted to read but again her brain refused to cooperate. At last she abandoned the effort altogether and sat watching the fire trying to make sense of the last few days. It seemed impossible that just over a week ago she had been sitting in the fine drawing room at Netherfield arguing about gardening—gardening!—with Mr Darcy. He seemed like a completely different man to the one who had so irritated her then, she certainly felt like a different woman. It was as if someone hadturned the world upside down and shaken everything about. She had no idea how to navigate this new normal. She only knew that the vision of his dark eyes boring into her own flashed through her mind with alarming regularity.
She started when the door of the room opened behind her and jumped out of the chair as if she had been caught doing something scandalous. Mr Darcy stepped inside. He appeared thoroughly exhausted and she hoped he had not noted the warmth in her cheeks as she examined him. Mud stained the hem of his breeches and one sleeve of his shirt, his boots were caked almost to the ankle and his hair was disordered in a way that suggested he had been running his hands through it. There were shadows beneath his eyes that had not been there that morning, and he seemed surprised to find her still awake.
"I beg your pardon," he said softly as he closed the door behind him. "I had thought you would be asleep."
She said nothing, feeling overwhelmed by the intimacy of being in the room with him so late at night. The evening before she had been too angry with him to care, and the first night she supposed she must have been simply unconscious. But now with the room lit only by the low glow of the fire and a few candles it felt as if they were in a dream-like space—a world where only the two of them existed.
His eyes went to the tray beside the fire.
"You have eaten something, that is good."
"Mrs Goose would accept no refusal."
"I imagine not."
A faint smile touched his mouth before he crossed to the armchair and began, with laboured movements to start arranging the blankets that had become his nightly bed.
Elizabeth watched him for a moment. It was only then that she realised he had brought nothing with him.
"You have not had any supper."
He looked up in mild surprise. "There has been little opportunity. I daresay there is something left in the kitchen." He spoke with such indifference that she knew at once he had no intention of seeking it.
"You have been working since breakfast."
"There was a good deal to be done."
"Mr Darcy..."
He smiled wearily. "I assure you I am perfectly—"
Before he could finish she was already on her feet and out of the door.
She returned a short time later balancing a tray that threatened to tip with every step. The kitchen had been dark save for the dying embers in the great range, but there had been enough leftfrom supper for her purposes. She had found the stew still warm in its pot beside the hearth, cut several thick slices of bread, discovered a generous wedge of cheese beneath a cloth and, after a brief search, unearthed a bottle of ale from the pantry. Mrs Goose had long since retired and Elizabeth hoped the good woman would never discover that one of her guests had been raiding her kitchen in the middle of the night.
Darcy looked up in evident surprise as she nudged the door shut with her foot and carried the tray to the small table beside the fire.
"Miss Bennet..."
"You neglected to eat," she replied simply, setting the tray down before him. "Someone had to remedy the situation."
