“Whatever do you mean”
“I thought ye were being kind because, well, I am not sure why. Perhaps it was because we were alone and ye did not feel the need to preen or because ye genuinely wanted to make an effort. But then ye said it was for the benefit of thy servants, and that hurt.
“I know I should not care, but ye are the only person, however awful, I know, and I cannot bear to think that this is what my life is going to be like: false and cold.
“I do not love ye, but, my lord, ye are all I have at this moment. Pray could ye find it somewhere in thy heart, if ye have one, to not feign thy kindness? Could ye perhaps be truly kind? I shall ask ye for nothing more than that.”
* * *
Stunned, Darcy let go of his tankard, the heavy pewter landing on the cloth-covered table with a thud. He stared at her, his mind nearly undone by her honesty. He had been asked for countless things in his lifetime to the point requests often fell on deaf ears, but never had the plea been so heartfelt, so real. He reached across the table, sought her hand, and squeezed it. She relaxed visibly then drew away.
“I do not want thy sympathy, my lord. I simply want understanding. I am ignorant and lost and I beg patience and a little kindness from ye.”
“Then you shall have it. You shall have anything you need or want.”
She smiled him, her shoulders sagging in defeat, and she retreated without touching her meal. He threw back the rest of his ale and called for a servant to make a plate of food for Elizabeth and take it to her room.
Darcy spent a while watching the fire dance in the hearth while he mulled over his bride's request for kindness. For the first time, he considered her and what his need had done to upend her life. It would not cost him much to grant her what she had asked. He had been merciful on the battlefield and at court. How hard could a bit of compassion for his future bride be?
* * *
The morning came fast for Darcy, whose sleep was bombarded by images of Elizabeth's sad eyes and frowning mouth. She was like a ghost who floated throughout his dreams, darted down passages of Pemberley to escape him or hovered near to inflict guilt. Wherever he turned, a mournful bride was there, and he woke with a heavy heart.
His valet readied him, and he went out to speak with the coachmen and footmen with regard to the day's ride. He instructed them where to stop, though it was unnecessary since they stopped at the same inns on every trip between Pemberley and Netherfield.
As he finished talking to the lead coachman, Darcy looked up. Elizabeth was coming towards him from the inn. He stopped in mid-sentence and dismissed the servant with a wave while he bent his steps towards her. She paused when she spotted his approach.
“My lady,” he said, offering his arm.
“My lord, how do ye do this morning?”
He eyed her pointedly. “I passed the night with fitful dreams.”
“I am pained to hear it, though ye may be able to nap within the confines of the carriage.”
“That would defeat the purpose of my riding inside with you, would it not? You did request my company?”
“I might have been quite mad yesterday, my lord. I cannot claim to remember what I said,” she replied haughtily, but amusement lit her eyes. She was teasing him, and it shook him more than her melancholy had.
“Then we shall work to improve your memory.” He crossed his arms as he stated it. She chuckled! Was she cheered by his words?
He handed her into the carriage, climbed in, and knocked on the top to signal their readiness. Sitting across from her, it became obvious how very small she was. She barely took up an entire position on the seat. Her gown, a pale blue sheath, pooled at her feet so that even the tips of her slippers were hidden.
“You will like the North Country, I think.”
“We shall see. I do like being out of doors, but I fear thy long winters could drive me mad.”
“The winters are not so bad as that.”
“I speak from what I have heard. I have never experienced a North Country winter.”
“It is a beautiful time, but then I enjoy the cold and the snow.”
She smiled as though she had expected as much. A little unnerved, Darcy bit his lip and stared down at his hands.
“I prefer autumn. I love the colours.” She gestured at the window.
He glanced out the window. A tree had almost shed its red leaves. Just weeks ago, it would have been full and green and then suddenly a brilliant red. Darcy sighed. That tree was very much like Elizabeth, full of life and on fire.
