Page 73 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

Tears streamed down her face, though her distress left her insensible to them. She had embarrassed them both.

No, he believed it something far more serious. Her attire had breached the bounds of propriety and disregarded the conduct expected of a respectable woman.

He had even spoken of a wanton. What must he think of her now? Of her judgment? Her character? She had offended his sense of decorum, and now she might pay for it with the loss of his esteem and his society.

When she reached the gate, she retrieved her pelisse and slipped it on. She drew a deep breath. The morning air was fresh and sweet. How good it had been to run again. She had not done so since her arrival in London.

But at what cost?

Surely, she would never see him again.

She hurried through the gardens and up the back stairs. When she reached her bedchamber, it was empty. She blew her nose, but the tears had not stopped.

After completing her morning ablutions, she dressed for the day. By the time she entered the breakfast parlor to join her uncle and Mr. Radcliff, she had recovered from the mortification of having been caught in such attire by Mr. Darcy.

Almost. At least she no longer wept, which she counted as one consolation.

Chapter 29: Concession

Darcy rose early, saddled his horse, and rode toward Arbor Low. Since learning of Miss Elizabeth’s interest in the monument, the henge had acquired an importance in his mind it had never held before. Familiarity had made it commonplace. It had always formed part of the landscape of his youth.

As boys, he and his cousins had ridden there, and after Mr. Wickham became steward, George Wickham had joined in their exploits. They had played at war, built imaginary fortresses, and hidden among the earthworks.

Now Darcy viewed the place through the eyes of a stranger. A beautiful stranger who believed some mystery surrounded the stone circle and perhaps the entire landscape.

He wished to see it bathed in the early morning light, with mist rising from the ground. What would she think if she could see it thus?

As the earthworks came into view, he saw movement along the bank. It was too dark to be certain. Perhaps it was one of the fairies Miss Elizabeth was so fond of studying, he thought wryly.

He looked up. The darkness was beginning to lighten. It was a beautiful morning. He brought Rowan to a halt at the end of the causeway when the sun broke over the horizon in brilliant glory. The clouds caught the light and blazed red, gold, and purple across the sky. For a time, the spectacle claimed his full attention.

When the colors faded, Darcy surveyed the bank and plateau to see who had come to the henge at such an early hour. He was startled when Rowan pranced backward and threw back his head with a neigh.

And then he saw her face. It was not a child; it was Elizabeth, and she was falling.

Darcy urged Rowan forward. As soon as he drew near, he dismounted and hurried to her, expecting to find her injured, perhaps unconscious. She lay very still, but as he approached, her limbs moved. By the time he knelt beside her, she had raised herself to a seated position and was brushing dirt and dead grass from her hands and forearms.

No blood. No apparent injury. Though bits of grass clung to her hair, she appeared miraculously unharmed.

“Miss Elizabeth, are you injured? Have you broken anything?”

She raised her beautiful eyes to his. “Sir, I am not injured.”

She held out her hands. He helped her to her feet. Relief swept through him when she stood without difficulty and began to brush the debris from her clothing.

Trousers. Darcy stared.

She wore narrow trousers fitted to her figure and a blouse reaching only to her hips. Had she no sense of decency? No shame? How could she bear to be discovered in such an indecent costume by a man, particularly one she scarcely knew?

She had been fortunate he had found her. Another man might mistake her for a woman of loose character and presume upon her in the worst manner.

His eyes narrowed. What was she doing here alone, dressed in such a fashion? Surely nothing improper had brought her to this place?

No, of course not. No tavern stood within three miles, and no tenant, servant, or gentleman had reason to come this way, for no public lane or footpath passed near the henge.

No, she had not come here seeking men. What then? Had she truly come only to see the sunrise? Extraordinary.

His distress must have shown in his face, for she asked, “Mr. Darcy, are you well, sir? I have sustained no injury. I should return home before I am missed.”