CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next morning dawned gray and cloudy, the sky covered in angry thunderclouds. As the coach was being loaded, the first drops of rain began to spit out of the sky.
Mrs. Smith was uncertain as they took off. It was the start of a downpour. “Perhaps we should wait until the storm clears?”
Water was coming in through the windows. Elizabeth and Mrs. Smith shared one side of the coach, and they had to huddle close to keep from getting wet.
“We must get there today,” said Elizabeth. “I have to see my sister.”
“We will get you there today,” said Darcy. “Don’t worry.”
And off they went into the pouring rain. The longer they drove, the worse the rain grew. Thunder rolled across the sky, and lightning forked its way down over the trees. The rain was coming down like buckets of water were being poured out. The road had turned into a river of mud.
At one point, the driver yelled for Darcy, and Darcy climbed out. He spoke with him for some time. He came back, sopping wet, and told Elizabeth not to worry. Nothing was stopping them.
Elizabeth was chilled to the bone. The rain was nearly frozen. It was likely just a bit too warm for snow, but only just, so the air was full of a freezing dampness that seemed to penetrate everything, seeping into her skirts and the blankets they had thrown over themselves for the journey.
Across from them in the coach, Darcy shivered.
Elizabeth could not help but stare at him, his hair wet and plastered to his forehead, droplets of water on his cheeks and nose. His lips were turning blue. She said that he must have one of their blankets, but he waved that off, saying he should only get it wet, and then it would be good for no one. Her heart swelled, because she knew he was doing all this for her. And, well, she couldn’t help but think that he looked rather nice wet. She only wished he wasn’t so cold.
She had a horridly wicked thought, of wrapping her arms around him, pressing her body close, warming him that way.
She forced it down. She would never do such a thing. This man was engaged to another. She could not forget that. It was only that it was agony, knowing what it was to kiss him and also knowing she could never kiss him again.
They drove on for some time, the rain worsening. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy spoke, but Mrs. Smith was most displeased. She said that she thought they were mad to continue, and that they must stop somewhere, at least long enough until the rain passed, because this was all very unpleasant, and she didn’t know how much longer she could bear it. Her fingers were turning to icicles, she said.
But even against this, Darcy insisted that they had to keep going. He told Mrs. Smith that it was a matter of urgency for Elizabeth.
Eventually, Mrs. Smith quieted. She sat in the coach as they rattled along, and she glowered at them silently.
Until, abruptly, the coach came to a stop and wavered back and forth, as if it were about to topple on its side.
Mrs. Smith screamed.
In spite of herself, Elizabeth cried out.
The coach righted itself, but it didn’t start moving again.
Faintly, they could hear the driver urging the horses, and there was a forward jostling, but no movement.
Darcy opened the coach and got out. “We’ve got a stuck wheel,” he called in to Elizabeth. “We’ll get it out of the mud and be going again in no time.”
But that was not to be. No matter how they tried, the wheel would not come unstuck.
Eventually, Elizabeth and Mrs. Smith were obliged to get out, though Mrs. Smith was not the least bit pleased by the idea, because it was thought that the lack of weight in the coach might help. It did not. Trunks were unloaded. That didn’t help either.
Now, Elizabeth and Mrs. Smith were both drenched, and the bottoms of their skirts were muddy. Elizabeth did not mind so much. She had run through mud before. In fact, her first trip to Netherfield had been been marked by her muddy skirts. But she couldn’t say that the icy rain pounding down on them was the least bit enjoyable. It was quite abominable, in fact.
When everything had been tried, and there was nothing they could do, the driver suggested they walk on to an inn he knew of nearby, where they might find some assistance to get the coach out of the mud. With no other options, they set off.
* * *
Elizabeth walked as long as she could on her ankle, but eventually, it began to pain her. She concealed this as best she could, but Darcy noticed. He said he would carry her, but she was indignant at such a thing and would only accept his assistance. She leaned on him and used his strength to make her own way.
However, upon much annoyance from Mrs. Smith at the slowness of their pace, she was prevailed upon to accept his former offer.
And that was how she ended up being carried across the threshold of an inn by Mr. Darcy, both of them sopping wet, muddy, and freezing. It might have been nice, being that close to him, if she hadn’t been so cold and tired and wet.
When they finally arrived, Elizabeth could think of nothing but rest. Darcy deposited her in front of the fire, so that she might dry off, and he called for food and ale for both her and Mrs. Smith. But he did not sit down to eat with them.
“Where is yours?” said Elizabeth, noting that he had not brought a cup or a portion for himself.
“I have already drunk and eaten in haste,” he said. “I am going back to get the wheel out of the mud. I will return with the coach. Hopefully, we will be on our way again within an hour or two.”
“You are mad,” said Mrs. Smith. “Walking all the way back through that rain? I don’t know what has addled your brain.”
But Elizabeth only squeezed both of his hands as hard as she could. “Thank you. You don’t have to—”
“Of course I do,” he said. And he was gone.
Mrs. Smith arched an eyebrow at the way their hands touched as he took his leave of them.
Elizabeth found she didn’t care what Mrs. Smith thought.
“If you think that I’m getting back in that coach, you’re sorely mistaken,” said Mrs. Smith. “I shall be procuring a room for the night here. I cannot go out in that storm again.”
Elizabeth drank her ale and didn’t argue. Mrs. Smith couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to leave. Perhaps it was a moot point, anyway. Perhaps the coach would not be unstuck. She drank and ate, and the fire dried her clothes, and she gazed into its warmth, feeling drowsy. It would have even been pleasant if it hadn’t been for her persistent thoughts of Jane.
How long had her father waited before sending the letter? How bad was her sister?
She was terrified that she would get home to find that Jane had died the night before, that she would never get a chance to say goodbye. She could not let that happen. She must get there. She must.
She and Jane had always been so close. Even now, she thought of their talks at night in the darkness, their laughter and secrets. She had known there would be no more of that when Jane married, but she had not thought there would be no more Jane at all.
She should have realized something had gone wrong. Letters from Jane had been few and far between lately, but Elizabeth had thought her sister was simply too happy and busy with her new life as Mrs. Bingley to write.
While Elizabeth stared at the fire and worried, Mrs. Smith was writing a letter, sending for someone to come and fetch her in the morning. She remained resolute that she would not step foot out into the rain.
Some time later, Darcy returned, looking even more bedraggled than before. He was thoroughly wet, covered in spattered mud, and his lips were turning blue.
Elizabeth got up from her chair. “You tried,” she said, “and that is all that anyone could ask. You mustn’t—”
“We’re moving again,” said Darcy. “The coach is free of the mud.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Mrs. Smith. “Because I refuse to stir from this place. I am staying here. And if the two of you go off together, that would be scand
alous.”
Darcy gave her a pained look. “Under the circumstances, Mrs. Smith, I hardly think that any impropriety will be likely. Not in such weather.”
She shrugged elegantly. “Do as you like. Now that you are back, I am going to retire to my room. I suggest that you procure lodgings for yourselves as well.” She got up and quit the two of them.
Darcy sank into her chair, shutting his eyes. He looked exhausted.
“Would you like to rest?” said Elizabeth. “Because after everything you’ve been through today, you could hardly be expected to keep traveling.” Another day’s delay would not make a difference, she tried to tell herself. She would be in time for Jane. Her sister must hold on a bit longer. She must.
“Miss Bennet, I have spent the better part of three hours making my coach travel ready. What I should like to do is travel.” He dragged a hand over his face. “But I will not risk your reputation. We have no chaperone, and if we leave, Mrs. Smith may spread rumors.”
“What are rumors compared to seeing my sister?” said Elizabeth. “If you are willing to travel, then I am ready too.”
He eyed her. “Well, I suppose we are no strangers to shocking circumstances.”
She smiled a small smile. “No, indeed. We are not.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It seemed that some bit of providence was with them, for the rain cleared almost immediately once they were back on the road. The sun came out, and it shone down with a late afternoon brightness and warmth.
Under its brilliance, Darcy rested his head against the back of the seat and fell asleep.
Elizabeth didn’t have the heart to wake him. He had done too much today.
He woke as they drew close to home. He stretched and yawned and looked powerful and beautiful and sweet, like an overgrown boy. Watching him made her heart swell in painful ways. But then he was embarrassed. “You should have woken me.”
“I could not, truly,” she said. “If anyone deserved the sleep, it is you.”
“We are drawing near, are we?” he said, looking out the window.
“Yes, I believe so,” she said.
“Do you want to be taken home to Longbourn or do you wish to go directly to Netherfield?”
“To Jane directly, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I fear that any time I waste might be time I cannot afford.”
“I understand,” he said.
So, they went to Netherfield, and they were received by a bewildered staff who had not been expecting them. Both of them were in utter disarray, the journey having soiled them. But when Bingley saw Elizabeth’s face, he could not but say that she should go to Jane at once.
“She has been asking for you,” said Bingley. “I hope it will raise her spirits to see you. Please, go up to her with all haste.”
So, without even changing her muddy skirts, Elizabeth was taken to her sister right away. She could not help but think of an earlier time when she had rushed to her sister’s bedside here in this very household. Only then, the circumstances had been much less dire. Even so, she hated to think of Jane alone and ill.
When she arrived in the room, she saw that Jane was awake, sitting up in the bed, propped up by pillows. But, oh how different did her sister appear. She looked quite small and pale, nestled in that large bed. She had lost a great deal of weight, and the color was gone from her lips and cheeks.
But when she saw Elizabeth, her mouth stretched into a wide smile. Unfortunately, it only showed how thin her face was, how prominent the bones beneath.
It took all of Elizabeth’s power not to burst into tears.
“Lizzy!” cried Jane. “I am so glad to see you.”
Elizabeth ran to her and took both her sister’s hands in her own. Though she had been traveling in the cold all day, she registered that Jane’s hands were even colder than hers.
“You look a fright,” said Jane. “Whatever happened?”
“Oh, Jane, I did not know,” said Elizabeth. “I would have come right away if anyone had told me—”
“You hurt your ankle!” scolded Jane. “Should you be up and about?”
“It is fine,” said Elizabeth. “Don’t worry about me. I am only worried for you.”
“Oh, I am fine,” said Jane, waving it away. “You should not have troubled yourself. It is some stomach ailment. I am sure it will pass soon.”
“You are not fine,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, Jane, you are…” But she checked herself. It would not do to tell her sister just how dreadful her appearance was. No, she must instead keep her sister’s spirits up. Perhaps if she believed that she would get well, it would help. “It is only that I had a letter from Father, and he worried me a bit.”
“Oh, you mustn’t listen to Father,” said Jane, laughing. “He has exaggerated things in order to bring you back home. He is out of his mind, no doubt, with Mother and Kitty and Lydia.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, I suppose that must be it. Too much silliness for him.”
“But however you come to be here, I am glad to see you,” said Jane.
“And I to see you,” said Elizabeth. “You have no idea how glad.”
* * *
Darcy stood in the foyer of Netherfield, looking Bingley over. He hadn’t seen his friend in quite some time now, and he found he wished that things were different between them.
“You and Miss Bennet are arriving alone?” said Bingley.
“Well, yes,” said Darcy. “We had another companion, a woman named Mrs. Smith. She is a widow that you may have met in London, perhaps?”
“I can’t say that I have, no.” Bingley folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, no matter,” said Darcy. “Earlier today, there was a storm, and she was determined not to go back out in it when were at the inn.”
“What inn?”
“Oh, the inn where we stopped while the coach was stuck in the mud.” Darcy drew in a breath. “But once we got moving again, it all cleared up. Even so, Mrs. Smith couldn’t have known that. It was only a matter of a few hours that Miss Bennet and I were alone. And I daresay it isn’t anything you’ll wish to mention, as you won’t want to cast aspersion on your sister-in-law.”
“Yes, well, all the secrets I am obliged to keep about your improprieties, Darcy,” said Bingley, shaking his head. “All I can say about you is that I am disappointed. I had thought you a different man than you are.”
Darcy’s nostrils flared. “Now, listen, Bingley, it’s been quite some time since I quit this place—”
“Yes, it has, and you’ve left my sister with no word of where you were or how to find you. She has been chasing you all over the country, and you seem to be running from her. You’ve already treated her despicably, and you continue to add insult to injury.”
“It is your sister who’s treated me badly,” said Darcy. “Perhaps, if you’d simply listen—”
“This again? You insist on accusing my sister of lying?”
“I do, because she has. I don’t see how you could think it of me. I would not dishonor a woman in such a way.”
“Well, who knows what you would do,” said Bingley. “You and Miss Bennet arrive in wet and dirty clothing, alone, as if you’ve been off rolling in the mud together—”
“She is beside herself in fear for her sister’s life. There was nothing going to get in the way of my getting her back here,” said Darcy.
“How is that you come to be with Miss Bennet anyway?”
“By coincidence,” said Darcy. “But now that I have delivered her here, I assume that there is no reason for me to stay any longer. I shall be off, then.” He turned to leave. He strode across the foyer and then stopped. He looked back at Bingley. “Is it really quite so bad as we have been led to believe?”
Bingley’s face twitched. He looked down at the floor. “I suppose you mean Mrs. Bingley.”
“Yes, of course. I am quite sorry for not inquiring earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking, going into all that sordid business from last November
. Thoughtless of me, really. How is your wife?”
Bingley spread his hands. “I know not. She is… quite weak and losing weight. She cannot keep anything down, not even broth. She is wasting away before my eyes, and yet she smiles and tells me that she is all right and that she is sure it will pass. I haven’t the heart to tell her that she is dying. I…” Abruptly, he lifted his chin. “But I don’t know why I confide in you. You may have the countenance of a dear friend I once thought I knew, but you were a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You have caused me nothing but grief, Darcy.”
“I am sorry,” said Darcy. “Sorry to hear of your wife and sorry to have been a source of sadness for you. I will go. If you could convey me to Miss Bennet so that she does not think I have abandoned her.” He turned again and went for the door.
“Wait,” said Bingley.
Darcy stopped.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I am sure there is somewhere nearby to procure lodging,” said Darcy.
“And how will that look?” said Bingley. “You are engaged to my sister, but not residing under my roof? Have you lost your mind? You will stay here.”
“I would think that my presence would only cause you more pain,” said Darcy.
“Indeed, but I suppose I must grow accustomed to it. You and my sister will be joined for all eternity soon enough. And now that I have you back, I daren’t let you go again, do I? You’ve run away long enough, Darcy. You must marry my sister as soon as possible.”
Darcy heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose if you truly feel that it is better for me to stay here, then I will remain. And we will discuss the situation with myself and your sister at a later time.”
“If you think there is anything you could say that would change my mind—”
“Lord!” interrupted a loud voice, and Mrs. Bennet burst into the foyer. “I had thought there was an arrival. I said to both Lydia and Kitty that I had heard horses, but they were so busy talking they had not heard anything and told me to hold my tongue. Mr. Darcy, you look as if you have been run over by a coach.”
Bingley made a face. “My mother-in-law has been here with my wife daily for weeks now.”
The Unraveling of Mr Darcy Page 13