5

When they reached Longbourn, Elizabeth retreated to her room to change out of her snow-dampened clothing into something warmer - something, she refused to admit to herself, a little finer and more flattering. When she returned to her guests in the drawing room, Mr. Darcy rose from his crouch beside the fireplace as the fire he had made slowly crackled to life. She was astonished that he had not thought it beneath him, in the absence of any servants, and strangely impressed that he had accomplished it without any disturbance to his immaculate appearance.

He bowed, looking rather proud of himself. “Miss Elizabeth, I admire your courage and I appreciate your generous invitation, but perhaps instead you would accept an invitation from my sister - you would be safer accompanying us back to London.”

Georgiana eagerly clapped her hands. “Oh, yes! What a fine idea!”

For a minute, Elizabeth was utterly speechless. Mr. Darcy did admire her - his sister had said so before realizing whom she was addressing. There could be no room for misunderstanding, not when Georgiana’s reaction had only made it more apparent. The way the girl was looking between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth at present was making it very apparent - and very difficult for Elizabeth to doubt. It was impossible, inconceivable, improbable, and most inconvenient.

But this was not the only unlikely and untimely shock of the day, and Elizabeth forced her mind to focus on the greater matter. “I will not leave Longbourn for those villains to plunder as they choose.”

“You could remove anything of value and bring it with us for safekeeping in London,”

Georgiana suggested.

“And vex them enough to put Longbourn to the torch when their avarice is thwarted?”

Elizabeth shook her head and folded her arms in front of her chest.

“Surely they would not….”

“I can hardly say what they are capable of,”

Elizabeth snarled. “But I know my own mind, and I will not be frightened out of my own home. Besides, Mrs. Hill means to bring her children and stay below stairs so that she can do some cleaning while attending to her injured son. How could I leave them here, defenseless?”

“You did say her son knows how to shoot a gun,”

Georgiana reminded her.

Mr. Darcy sighed and gave a beleaguered shake of his head. “I am sure we could transport them to safety, as well, if you would not burden them with the defense of your home.”

“Unless you can transport Longbourn itself, you will not persuade me to leave. You need not stay, if you do not wish to, but I certainly shall. There is some merit, surely, in my notion of using Papa’s pistol to….”

“To shoot a man? Several men, in fact.”

Mr. Darcy took a step closer and stared Elizabeth down, his brows raised in challenge. She lifted her chin in defiance before giving a curt nod of her head. “Miss Elizabeth, this is no small thing.”

“I never said it was! Indeed, I should like to believe I would not have fainted in the snow over a small thing,”

Elizabeth protested. “But I refuse to be frightened of those brutes. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me, and the colonel has essentially issued a direct challenge which I shall not allow to cow me.”

As the discerning Mrs. Annesley discreetly led Georgiana toward the door, Mr. Darcy began to pace and ran his hands down his face in frustration. “Obstinate, headstrong woman! On my honor as a gentleman, I cannot leave you here alone and in danger, and neither can I expose my sister to that same peril, and to the very wastrel who….”

“Your honor as a gentleman!”

Elizabeth took a few steps closer and then stopped, staring up at him. Silence hung in the air until it was replaced by the tinkling of the pianoforte across the hall in the small parlor.

Mr. Darcy appeared not to notice the music. His thunderous expression was not unlike how he had appeared on the day he first saw Mr. Wickham in Meryton. She had believed the latter when he claimed to have been mistreated by Mr. Darcy - purely because Elizabeth had thought herself just as ill used by the man who called her barely tolerable. But Mr. Darcy admired her, or so his sister believed. And Elizabeth did believe Georgiana’s assertion that Mr. Wickham had done their family some harm. The blackguard wished to do Elizabeth’s family considerable harm in scheming with the other wretched officers.

Everything she knew seemed turned upside-down. She had accused Mr. Darcy of cruelty, indifference, and snobbery - and yet his present concern for her predicament showed quite the reverse, even if she could not agree with his solution to her problem. The cloud of confusion swirling in her mind seemed to mock her as he moved to stand before her; had he always been so handsome? Had she ever noticed his eyes were so very blue?

She stared up at him, furious with herself for thinking of him in such a way, at a moment like this, and unable to resist wondering what he might have said about her to his sister to give Georgiana the impression that her brother had formed an attachment. Then again, perhaps she had misunderstood; perhaps, like Jane, Georgiana was far too disposed to see the best in others. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking.

Mr. Darcy heaved a ragged breath, but spoke in a throaty whisper. “Miss Elizabeth, I am trying to help you. How could I face your family if I allowed some mischief to befall you?”

“With the same disdain as ever,”

Elizabeth spat. “And I am Miss Bennet now that Jane has married Mr. Bingley.”

She smiled savagely up at him, imagining how it must rankle him that his friend had married her sister. Her fury faltered for a moment. He had never been overtly unkind to Jane, nor any of her relations. He had frequently looked mortified by her mother’s indiscretion and occasional vulgarity, as well as Lydia’s boisterousness - but Elizabeth was far from innocent of such reactions herself. She felt her cheeks flush as she recalled the embarrassment they had caused her on more than one occasion in Mr. Darcy’s company… because she had privately desired his good opinion.

“Miss Bennet,”

he said huskily. His countenance, which was ever a mask of indifference, now plainly showed that her caustic words had wounded him.

He had come to stand near enough that she might easily reach out and touch him; her fingers twitched at her sides. Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip nervously, wondering why she was so angry, why she was so affected by his proximity, unable to move either closer or further away - and why she hoped that his sister was not mistaken about his feelings for her. Above all, she wondered how it could be possible that she wished to rail at him, to pound her fists into his broad chest and scream, and yet she also desired to throw herself into his arms and weep.

His eyes dropped to her lips and then down her body, his breath shaking as his hands moved toward hers, brushing her fingers into his grasp until they curled around his of their own volition. Elizabeth let out a faint gasp as his eyes met hers once again, searing into her until she forgot how to speak. She knew she ought to say something, for she had repaid his kindness only with petulance, and now found that she had no wish to spoil the sudden novelty of having his good opinion. Her lips parted as she tilted her head back to peer up at him.

Mr. Darcy stood so close that she was afraid to move, afraid he would resume his taciturn propriety; her fingers tightened around his. Again his gaze washed over her, and this time his head dipped closer to her. And then he stilled. Just as Elizabeth realized she would not protest if he were to kiss her, Mr. Darcy stepped backward and ran his hands through his hair, his distress drawing her back into their dreadful predicament.

“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I - you are in distress. I ought not to have lost my temper.”

Elizabeth began speaking at the same moment as Mr. Darcy. “Forgive me, I am only greatly distressed - I should not have spoken so harshly.”

They both began to laugh nervously. “Once again my temper has gotten the better of me,”

Elizabeth sighed, only partially in jest.

“Again?”

“Oh dear,”

Elizabeth said, wondering if she had really taken leave of her senses. It occurred to her that perhaps he would not be surprised at all to know just how absurd her family was. It might also prove to be a blessing, if his contempt prevented any recurrence of what had almost passed between them. Even so, her cheeks flushed warm with shame.

“I was rather churlish the day before my family departed for Hertfordshire,”

Elizabeth admitted, fidgeting as she stared out the window at the snow swirling in the breeze as it fell. “I was cross about Charlotte and Jane both being wed, and my little cousins were ten times as noisy and wild as my younger sisters, if you can imagine such a great din, and I finally told them all off. In the morning when I woke, they were gone. I fear I was so awful that they left me behind as a punishment, not in some hasty error.”

The pity was written plainly on his face; she had liked it better when she thought him devoid of every proper feeling. “You cannot think they would be so cruel. Your elder sister is too tender-hearted, and I am sure she returns your devotion. She would not allow it, and neither would Bingley. And your mother… clearly loves all her children too much to do such a thing.”

Elizabeth might have reproached herself for thinking the worst of her family, but for the look on Mr. Darcy’s face as he rallied himself to say something generous about her mother. A strange laugh bubbled out of her throat. “I suppose it is a little less dismal to suppose I was merely forgotten.”

Mr. Darcy studied her for a moment. “You are hoping they will return for you.”

They had to. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself, imagining her home overrun by treacherous officers. She imagined her family at some inn, thinking only of how the weather would affect their journey, but content enough to be together without her sulking. Tears pricked at her eyes.

Mr. Darcy moved closer to her once again, this time offering his handkerchief to her. “Perhaps that is one reason you do not wish to leave Longbourn.”

Elizabeth nodded, her bottom lip beginning to quiver as the tears spilled down her cheeks. She meant only to reach out and take the handkerchief he extended to her; Elizabeth knew not if he had moved to embrace her or if her body had acted on some instinct that evaded her mind, but in an instant she was weeping in his arms.

***

Darcy had no idea what to do. He slowly raised his arms as Elizabeth leaned against him, her body shaking as she wept. He hesitated, wondering where to put his hands. He laid them softly on her shoulders, felt horribly awkward for a moment, and then pulled her closer until the embrace felt natural. He let out a sigh of relief that he had not managed to completely disgust her when he had almost kissed her, though it would have been an egregious breach of his morals to do such a thing when she was in such distress.

Even if he had desperately wished to do so. Even if, as he dared allow himself to believe, she had desired it, too. Even if it still took every ounce of self control he possessed not to kiss her even as she wept.

Instead he ran his fingers through her hair, gently stroking her head as he had briefly done when his valet had helped him put Elizabeth into his carriage. Seeing her collapse into the snow had been one of the most heart-stopping, agonizing moments of his life, and it had been purely coincidence that he had happened upon her in time to keep her from any further harm. The thought of what might have befallen Elizabeth made Darcy draw her closer still, and he indulged himself in taking one small liberty. He nuzzled his face against the crown of her head, drinking in the scent of her.

Despite the looming predicament, it was an enchanting moment. Elizabeth, whom Miss Bingley had once accused of ‘abominable, conceited independence,’ and whose tenacity and self-reliance he had long admired, was actually seeking comfort from him. Though she had been disposed to assume the worst of him when last they met, though her opinion of him had been shaded by Wickham’s deceit, Elizabeth had invited him and his sister into her home. And even though she had lashed out at him, her small hands now rested on his chest as she allowed him to hold her, and her sobs began to slow as he soothed her.

“You are not alone, Miss Elizabeth,”

he whispered. “I shall not allow any harm to come to you.”

She let out one final sniffle and nodded her head against his chest before slowly withdrawing. As she wiped at her tear-streaked face, he again offered her his handkerchief. She accepted it with a weak smile. “Thank you. I hardly know what came over me.”

“You need not apologize.”

Elizabeth looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as a playful grin began to tug at her lips. “Not even for speaking to you so abominably?”

“What did you say that I did not deserve?”

Darcy offered her an apologetic smile. He had been disdainful toward her family during his stay at Netherfield. He was not feeling favorably disposed to them at present for leaving Elizabeth alone to face such peril, but he had been rude and aloof to them for no greater provocation than being chaotic, candid, and occasionally uncouth. Sadness still lingered in Elizabeth’s eyes, and he considered what comfort she would get from the Bennets’ boisterous presence after such an arduous day.

She pursed her lips, her eyebrows quirking slightly as she rested a hand on her hip. “Here I had thought I had been too obstinate and headstrong.”

Her last few words were spoken in a deeper voice meant to mock his own tone of reproach.

“Would you prefer I apologize, or shall I attempt to persuade you that such qualities are laudable indeed?”

The words tumbled out before Darcy could consider them properly, but they elicited another smile from her.

“Say what you must, sir, to dissuade me from retrieving that pistol of my father’s,”

Elizabeth quipped. The mirth had finally returned to her fine eyes, and she bit at her lip, as if relishing her own saucy wit.

Darcy had no talent for such banter, though he had gamely attempted it; fortunately, he was spared any further effort when Elizabeth suddenly looked past him, out the window, her attention diverted elsewhere.

She moved closer to the window, waving at someone. “Mrs. Hill - I had forgotten all about Hill! She told me that Freddy, the grocer’s boy, was to assist her in bringing provisions and transporting her injured son here from her cottage. She has Alice with her, too. Oh dear. I had meant to warn them before they put themselves in harm’s way. But I wonder….”

Elizabeth screwed up her face in concentration, and suddenly she was lost in her own mind as she began to pace. Darcy took the opportunity to watch her, remembering the day at Netherfield when he had teased her about her figure appearing to best advantage when walking. She looked remarkable at present, so determined to overcome her panic and her sadness alike, so intent on whatever notion had struck her. Darcy had no wish to disrupt her beguiling contemplation, and so he simply waited.

“Mr. Darcy, I understand that you have no wish to place yourself or your sister and her companion in danger, though I might argue that making the journey back to London this late in the day, with the snowstorm growing worse, might be doing just that. Colonel Forster was certainly doubtful that my family would be able to travel in such inclement weather, though I assured him that I expect their return today. If you were to stay, even just for tonight, and with the Hills here, perhaps it might give the impression that my family is back at Longbourn, to anyone attempting to ascertain whether I am really home alone.”

“They are sure to return tonight, these villains?”

Darcy frowned. Elizabeth had told him of the letter Colonel Forster had given her for Wickham, and though he agreed that it was likely meant as a taunt, he did not think there was any truth in it. “They will not have received his orders to return tonight, and even if he speaks with them directly, the weather may not permit it.”

“I do not think they are meant to act on their plans tonight, but my understanding was that they would return to glean whether my family has indeed returned. We might easily create an illusion that would convince them, even from afar if they are not bold enough to approach as they did this morning. Perhaps it would be enough to dissuade them from any further mischief.”

Darcy looked around, considering. With fires and sconces lit in all the downstairs parlors, silhouettes of people visible through the thin white curtains, laughter and chatter and music audible through a few slightly opened windows, they could certainly give quite a performance. He gave a slow, ponderous nod. “Have you any tenants who might wish to join us for a few hours after sundown? Children, too - you mentioned some rambunctious cousins causing a commotion.”

“If Hill will consent to feed them, I am sure we can manage as full a house as there was two nights ago - and by God, I shall have my cranberry biscuits at last!”

“Excellent,”

Darcy agreed; he was prodigiously fond of cranberries, though rather less of parties. He had no talent for spontaneity either, but Elizabeth beamed at him with a look of confidence and gratitude, and something else he could not name. Something warm and familiar, something shared between them. She might have led him to the very devil with such a look.

***

Elizabeth felt a sudden sense of heat pooling inside her, and decided she and Mr. Darcy had been alone together for quite long enough. They had quarreled, nearly kissed, and she had actually been in his arms - and now he was looking at her as if in the presence of great genius, which would satisfy her vanity far too well if she allowed it.

She noticed the music coming from across the hall had ceased, and felt she owed Georgiana some apology for her outburst. As she moved into the smaller parlor, she found Georgiana speaking softly with her companion Mrs. Annesley on the sofa, with her fat orange cat stretched out between them, purring loudly. “I see you have met Lord Whiskerton,”

Elizabeth said.

“He is a darling,”

Georgiana cooed, curling her fingers in his thick fluff.

“He must have taken a singular liking to you, for he is not always so easy with strangers,”

Elizabeth replied. In truth, Lord Whiskerton was a lecherous little libertine, fairly demanding affection from anyone and everyone, but she could see that it pleased Georgiana to believe she had been especially chosen by the miscreant mouser.

“Oh! I adore him,”

Georgiana said. “I have always wanted a kitten of my own, but have never been permitted.”

Elizabeth turned toward Mr. Darcy, rather surprised that he would deprive his sister of anything she desired, for she had no doubt he enjoyed indulging the girl.

But then he sneezed.

“That is why,”

Georgiana said sheepishly.

“Oh dear! Ought I remove him?”

“Do not distress yourself Miss Eliz - Miss Bennet,”

Mr. Darcy said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Mrs. Annesley looked up at him and asked, “Are we to remove, sir? Shall we prepare ourselves for the journey back to London?”

“No, we shall remain at Longbourn until the storm passes and the Bennets are able to return,”

Darcy said. He explained Elizabeth’s plan, adding only that he intended to send word to their cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“I was going to suggest that very notion,”

Georgiana cried. “He said he would be travelling north a few days after us, did he not? And I know he wishes to… to… well, I shall not repeat his threats about George Wickham but I think even the worst of them are quite justified. Oh, but Lizzy! I am so pleased that we are to stay, and that you and I might grow better acquainted! And a party, how jolly!”

“I am glad you are so easily diverted, though I must remind you that we mean to pantomime the absolute havoc of a family gathering at Longbourn, so I hope you share my fondness for folly and absurdity,”

Elizabeth said with a wink. “You are welcome to share my room, which I have always shared with my sister Jane, or you are welcome to any other bedchamber of your choosing. I can show you all upstairs now, if you would like to settle in and refresh yourselves before we let battle commence.”

And just as it occurred to Elizabeth that she would have to speak with the housekeeper as soon as possible, she heard the familiar bustle of Mrs. Hill and Alice whispering between themselves in the corridor. Mrs. Hill hastened into the room but then stopped abruptly at the sight of Elizabeth’s guests. Her mouth fell open, but she remembered her manners and gave a clumsy curtsey.

“I’m not too sure you’ll be wantin’ to have guests, Lizzy, dear,”

the housekeeper cried. “Never mind the propriety and your mother’s dislike of - well, I’ve just overheard the most shocking conversation between a pair of officers at the Red Lion!”

At this, Mrs. Hill brandished a double barrel flintlock shotgun, waving it about until Mr. Darcy was obliged to gently remove it from her haphazard clutches.

“Hill! Wherever did you get that?”

Elizabeth fairly sputtered with laughter as she watched Mr. Darcy reassess the kindly older woman, whom he had only ever seen procure her mother’s smelling salts.

“Never you mind, Miss Lizzy,”

Hill said primly. “But I’ll not let those weasels pillage the house on my watch, not after feeding ‘em tea and cakes half a dozen times. No indeed, I am prepared to be very unladylike, if I must - beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth grinned and impulsively threw her arms around the intrepid housekeeper, before she and Mr. Darcy once again laid out their plan for the evening.