Darcy looked towards the inn windows. "She will be relieved." He smiled almost to himself. "And I have the privilege of being the one to tell her."
???
Elizabeth woke later than she intended.
For several moments she remained perfectly still beneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling while memory returned in a gentle wave. She remembered laughter whispered into the darkness, conversations that had wandered from childhood to books and back again, the warmth of Darcy's arm about her and the extraordinary tenderness of his kiss. It had possessed none of the confidence of a practised admirer. It was tentative, reverent, and she held her fingers to her lips tracing the memories held there and smiling at the sweetness of the thought.
But soon pleasure was replaced by the harsh reality before her. She had behaved as a wanton. A sensible young woman did not fall in love with a gentleman she had hated just days before whilst trapped in an inn by a flood. A sensible young womanmost certainly did not invite him into her bed, however innocent the circumstances.
And love, was it love? Or simply circumstance? What must he think of her? But her traitorous heart would not allow her to wallow too deeply. It whispered that he had called her "his heart". That he must surely declare himself, and very soon. That he was the most honourable and gentlest of men. She smiled before she could prevent herself. It had not felt reckless. His arms had felt like the safest place in the world.
By the time Martha arrived with hot water Elizabeth had schooled her features into something approaching composure, though it required rather more effort than she cared to admit.
"You look cheerful this morning, ma'am," Martha observed as she busied herself with the dressing table.
"Do I?"
"I reckon everyone does. They say the bridge is passable again."
Elizabeth looked instinctively towards the window. So the end was approaching. The thought, which ought to have filled her with relief, settled unexpectedly heavily upon her heart.
???
Elizabeth wandered down to the inn with no particular occupation. She wished to bid farewell to a couple of fellowtravellers, but in truth she wished to see him. To convince herself that the previous night had not been a dream or passing fancy.
She caught sight of Darcy (for now he was just Darcy in her heart and mind) as she passed an open doorway leading to the yard. He was speaking animatedly with Thomas near the stables. Darcy looked up as though sensing her presence. Their eyes met across the courtyard and he smiled at her. A true, dazzling smile, no hauteur or arrogance, just unguarded warmth. She saw Thomas look towards his master with a wry grin of his own and she looked down, suddenly embarrassed. Tamping down her own smile, she continued on to the parlour where she might find Mrs Prentice and a couple more of the ladies she had been briefly acquainted with over the past days.
Elizabeth had taken no more than a dozen steps before a voice hissed, "Miss Bennet."
She stopped automatically, though the words sat oddly upon her ear. Turning slowly, she found Captain Henderson standing alone in the passage that led towards the smoking room. He had exchanged his regimentals for a dark blue travelling coat that had seen better days and held his hat tucked beneath one arm. There was an easy confidence about him, charming but oddly empty, like a painted facade with nothing behind it.
Her stomach lurched but she inclined her head politely. "I believe you are mistaken, Captain. I am Mrs Darcy."
His smile widened wolfishly. "Ah yes," he said with a hollow laugh. "So everyone here believes."
"I do not understand you."
"No?" He took a slow step nearer. "I understand rather more than you know, madam."
Elizabeth's fingers tightened around the folds of her skirt, panic rising. "I fear I have no notion what you mean."
"I imagine not." His eyes travelled leisurely over her face and he licked his lips with a crude leer. "You play the part exceedingly well."
She made to step around him, but he moved to block her passage.
"If you will excuse me—"
"By happy coincidence, I happened to be in the courtyard yesterday afternoon."
She looked at him steadily, refusing to betray the fear that was sliding through her veins.
"I have heard enough, quite enough sir—allow me to pass."
He gave a short laugh. "Friends, then?' Was that how it went? And then all those very proper 'Miss Bennets' and 'Mr Darcys.' Curious language indeed between husband and wife."
Elizabeth looked into his hard, cruel face, no trace of charm remaining and could not think of a single thing to say.
"So," Henderson continued softly, "you are not Mrs Darcy after all. You are merely a bit of skirt travelling with a gentleman for his… pleasure."
