Page 29 of Love Drunk for Mr Darcy

Chapter Ten

The day's travel was long and arduous. Conversation between Elizabeth and Darcy had been almost non-existent, and by the time they arrived at the coaching inn she was tired, hungry and deeply irritated. He deposited her in a private parlour while he went to make arrangements, although Elizabeth felt certain that his valet or one of the footmen could have made them perfectly well. He simply wanted to be away from her.

Why did that thought feel so uncomfortable? She had not wanted this marriage. Well, perhaps that was not quite true. She had not wanted it in this way, with everything decided so quickly and no real opportunity to think. Perhaps if, after that life-altering night in the cellar, they had been allowed time to come to know one another properly, to understand what had happened between them and what they might become, she would not now feel as though her entire life had been picked up and turned upside down without her permission.

And now it was her wedding night and she sat alone in a coaching inn with only a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits for company. Elizabeth devoured the biscuits with little concern for elegance, since there was no one present before whom she was required to nibble delicately, and remained there for what felt like an age with half a cup of cold tea before her.

When the door finally opened, it was not her husband who stood in the doorway but a kind-looking maid who begged her to follow and showed her upstairs to a small but comfortable chamber which already contained her trunks. Elizabeth was too embarrassed to enquire after Darcy and thereby admit that she had no notion of the whereabouts of her own husband. Time passed slowly. The shadows lengthened outside and a fire was lit in the grate. Hot water arrived, followed by a supper tray containing cold meat, bread, cheese and a small decanter of wine. Elizabeth ate little of it. She changed into her nightgown and wrapper, brushed out her hair and then sat beside the fire trying to read a book.

She had spent the better part of the afternoon trying not to think about the moment in the carriage when Darcy had almost kissed her. Worse, she had spent even longer trying not to think about how desperately she had wanted him to. Now she was sitting in her chamber listening for his footsteps like some trembling bride in a sentimental novel.

He must have taken another room. The thought settled unpleasantly in her stomach. Of course he had. After what had passed in the carriage, what else could she have expected? He had made it perfectly clear that he would not presume upon their marriage, and she had done nothing to encourage him otherwise. Perhaps he intended them to live as politely distant acquaintances from this moment onwards.

There was a hesitant knock at the door. She sat upright so quickly that the book slipped from her lap. "Come in." The door opened and Darcy appeared. He had removed his coat and wore only his dark waistcoat over a white shirt, his cravat still neatly tied despite the lateness of the hour. For a few seconds he simply stood there. His gaze moved over her loose hair and the thin wrapper gathered about her, then returned quickly to her face. A flush rose along his cheekbones and his hand tightened slightly on the doorframe before he seemed to collect himself.

"I wished to see that you had everything you required," he said at last. His gaze moved briefly around the room. "The chamber is comfortable enough?"

Elizabeth glanced around the room. "Yes. I have everything I need."

"Good."

He remained where he was, one hand still resting on the doorframe, and Elizabeth began to wonder why he had come at all if he had so little to say. His attention moved to the supper tray. "You have eaten very little."

Elizabeth glanced at the abandoned plate. "I was not especially hungry."

"You should try to eat something more. We have another long day tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mr Pemberley." She repeated the teasing nickname from the cellar but it came out hard and brittle. The words had escaped before she could stop them. Darcy's brows drew together, and Elizabeth immediately regretted the remark, though not quite enough to apologise.

"I did not mean to lecture you," he said after a moment. "I only came to make certain you were comfortable and to wish you goodnight."

"Goodnight?"

Darcy paused and looked at her more closely. "Yes. I thought that was what you would prefer."

Elizabeth stared at him. He had finally come to her room only to enquire after her comfort and leave again. She felt foolish for every moment she had spent listening for his footsteps, and even more foolish for the disappointment now sitting heavily in her chest.

Her eyes moved to the decanter of wine on the table. "There is wine," she said. "If you require some."

Darcy frowned. "Why would I require wine?"

The sensible thing would have been to say nothing more. Elizabeth was tired enough to have lost much of her good sense and hurt enough not to care. "It seemed useful the last time you wished to touch me."

His expression changed at once.

Elizabeth knew she had gone too far, but embarrassment drove her onwards. "Although I suppose there is little point delaying matters. We are married now. We may as well get it over with."

Darcy stared at her for one long moment, then crossed the room so quickly that Elizabeth's breath caught. In three strides he was standing directly before her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Anger had brought colour high into his face, but there was something else there too, something hot and unmistakable that sent a shiver through her.

He lifted one hand and placed a finger beneath her chin, raising her face a little more firmly towards his. The touch was gentle, despite the tension in him. "Do not ever speak as though touching you is some duty I must force myself to perform."

Elizabeth's breath caught. His eyes dropped to her mouth and she thought he might kiss her after all. She did not move. His thumb shifted slightly against her chin, almost a caress, and the heat in his expression deepened before he seemed to remember himself. "And do not ever suggest that I would require wine before I could want you."

The words struck hard enough to leave her without a reply. Darcy remained close for another moment, his face only inches from hers, before he released her and stepped back. The sudden loss of his touch was almost as unsettling as the touch itself. "Darcy, I—"

He gave a short shake of his head, whether to silence her or himself she could not tell. Then he turned and crossed the room without another word, opened the door and disappeared into the corridor. Elizabeth remained where she was long after it closed, one hand rising unconsciously to the place beneath her chin where his finger had rested.

Her gaze moved to the decanter of wine and she wished very much that she had kept her mouth shut.