He could not think of it. He did not even know why he intended to return there except that he had to see her again. He hoped it was not too late.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was past midnight by the time Darcy reached the darkened inn. The innkeeper cursed and fussed when he opened the door. Darcy did not care. He was relieved only that it had been opened. No, that was not strictly true—he might have passed the night outside with the horses, but he needed to know.
He pushed past the man and marched inside, looking around for the book he had seen the day before. In it, the man had recorded his name when he had taken a room for his sister.
“I remember you,” the innkeeper said in a hoarse voice. “You took a room earlier for the young miss. She’ll be asleep now.” His tone was rather more pleasant now that he had realised Darcy was a paying customer.
“I know.” Darcy was in no mood to talk and even less inclined to explain himself. “I need to see your register. You take the names of all guests who stay here—is that correct?”
“Yes it is. And there addresses.”
“And do you make a note of when they leave?”
The man nodded. “Yes. Though it happens that sometimes my girls forgot to note when a guest leaves and I’m not around. No matter how many times I tell them, it still—”
“Where is the book? I must see it.”
The man sighed. “I take it into my room in the evenings when I go to bed. I wake at five, you know.”
“I do not need to know your habits. Show me the book.”
Darcy waited, tapping his foot on the stone floor as he did. He played back the events of that day in his mind, agonising over whether he might have dealt more swiftly with those blasted men. He could see no other way. It had been important in his mind for them to see he was not some absentee landlord who shied away from trouble. He had had no choice but to be there to warn them again when they were set free on the outskirts of that town hours north.
He should have felt victorious, he knew, but he did not. He felt dissatisfied and restless; like he had chosen the wrong path that day and it might have devastating consequences for his life.
Presently, the man returned with the book. Darcy skimmed impatiently through the last page. When he could not find his own name, he harrumphed and flicked back to the earlier page. He saw it there in the same unfamiliar scrawl as the rest of the entries. On any other occasion, he might have been irritated to see the man had misspelt his name as ‘William Darcy’. That night he could not have cared less.
He read the entries, holding his breath as he sought her name. She could not be that much further from his, he thought. The inn had been busy that day, but not so busy that there could have been more than two or three parties who wanted rooms after him and before she arrived.
He did not turn the page. There was no need to. His name was at the top of the page and hers ought to have been just a few lines below it.
There was only one conclusion he could draw. They had stopped at the inn to eat. It made sense. They had arrived too early. What could possibly have detained them in a village like that when they could have gone one to one just like it and been closer to the highlands or the border, depending on which way they were going?
He slammed the book closed and was about to leave when he remembered something. He threw it open again and went to the last but one page.
What was it she had said?
They were not Bennets. He could not remember their last name. Normally he might have been displeased at himself for forgetting, but earlier that day he had been rendered so shocked by seeing her that he had forgotten himself.
He read the names under his own. Gardiner. Hope swelled inside him. It seemed familiar. And had he not heard her utter that name before? He was sure of it now that he saw it written there.
The innkeeper coughed. It was a delicate sound and it was clear that no malady other than impatience could have been the cause of it.
“Will you be wanting a room, sir?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, that will not be necessary. I shall wait here.”
“Here? And not in a room?”
“Yes.”
“You cannot stay here,” the man spluttered. “If I allow you to stay I’ll have half the vagrants in Scotland turning up to my door.”
“I should hardly think so. Who will tell them?”
“It is out of the question.”
Darcy sighed. He had no more will to take a room than he did to return to his estate. What was the sense in it? He would be up at first light in order not to miss her. He would have what, four or five hours of sleep at most?
“Very well. I shall take a room. I presume it will then be acceptable for me to spend the night here?” He pointed to a wooden chair that did not look comfortable enough to sit in for three minutes let alone three hours. But it would do for his purposes.
“Yes, yes, of course, sir.”
Darcy nodded. Without another word, he walked across the floor and sat on the chair. It was as uncomfortable as it looked, but it offered an excellent view of the stairs.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A hearty evening meal of stew and dumplings had raised Elizabeth Bennet’s spirits slightly, but not as much as might have been expected. She might otherwise have retired to bed and slept soundly and immediately, but that had not happened either. She found herself rolling and turning all night, despite being more exhausted than she had been in a long time.
Finally, sometime around midnight, she must have drifted to sleep.
It felt like only a few minutes later when her aunt entered her room to rouse her. It was much later, of course—she knew because sunlight was now streaming in her window.
“Is it time to leave?”
Mrs. Gardiner nodded. “There must have been some sort of sleeping elixir in that stew last night. It is late, Lizzy. We must go soon otherwise all of our haste shall be in vain.”
Elizabeth leapt out of bed and hurried to the window. It was only when she reached it that she realised the purpose of her dash there.
There was no sign of it. She sighed. Her window overlooked the courtyard in its entirety. If Darcy’s large black carriage had been there, she knew she would have been able to see its roof from that vantage point. There was nothing there. It must indeed have been late because the whole place had emptied of carriages. There was not a soul around.
“What are you looking for, Lizzy? What is it?” Mrs. Gardiner came and stood beside her.
“Nothing,” Elizabeth whispered. “It did not cross my mind to look yesterday, but I wondered if there was anything to be seen nearby. Villages, perhaps.”
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. “I am afraid there is nothing for miles. Edward and I viewed the map last night. As I told you then, there is nothing around for miles except private estates. Do you not recall?”
“No. I must have forgotten.” She had not been listening, she knew, having been distracted completely by thoughts of Fitzwilliam Darcy. How dashing he had looked when they met him in the inn! He was every bit as handsome as she recalled.
“Very well then,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “We thought your Mr. Darcy’s estate might have some significance, but it is not marked. I had hoped we might visit.”
“Visit? We could not just arrive there without being invited!”
“Ah, but with some grand houses in England it is possible to do just that. Take Netherfield, for instance. Edward tells me he visited it when his sister—your mother—first became betrothed to your father. The old owner welcomed the company, according to him. I should know because he has a soft spot for that place, even though we could never afford the lease on it. Or its upkeep.”
“But he was hardly a stranger. His sister was to marry the owner of Longbourn House.”
“I suppose,” Madeline said, squeezing her niece’s arm. “In any case, it happens frequently in England. It is a pleasant diversion. Perhaps one day I shall see Pemberley—I must say, it was all p
eople spoke of when I was a girl. It is supposed to be the grandest house in the county!”
“Not on this journey, I hope!” Elizabeth cried, before covering her mouth with her hand. “I simply mean that it would surely be a strain on my uncle to explore that part of the country in addition to Scotland.”
Mrs. Gardiner considered this. “Perhaps you are right, Lizzy. Of course I did not mean we would go this year. Edward is already worrying about business that he ought to forget. I suppose it is his nature. Come now. We must leave soon. We have seen all there is to see of this place on our explorations yesterday. The sooner we leave the more we can see. I must say, I am delighted we decided to make haste to Scotland. Now we can truly relax!”
Elizabeth nodded and went to tidy her things. It was true. They had circled the village three times before retiring to the inn the night before. And in that time they had well and truly seen everything that there was to see. There was an old stone chapel and some well-tended gardens.
The whole place seemed deserted, in fact. Apart from at the inn, they had not encountered many people at all.
And now it seemed she would not encounter Fitzwilliam Darcy again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By now, Darcy had grown hungry and stiff. Far more than four hours had passed since he sat in that chair and he was becoming increasingly agitated.
Many of the inn’s patrons had descended the stairs and sat at the thick wooden tables to eat. Some had even finished their meals and had long since departed. And still there was no sign of Elizabeth Bennet.
He recalled that she had been an early riser all the time he had known her. So where was she?
Many different explanations floated through his mind. He wondered if, for some reason, she and her relations had taken rooms but later changed their minds and gone elsewhere. There had been no indication of it in the innkeeper’s book, but what if they had gone when the man was distracted? After all, had he not told Darcy that his girls—Darcy took this to mean the man’s daughters, but he did not much care who they were—often forgot to mark departures in the book?
He shifted in his chair again and scanned the room. It was now so late that the crowd had thinned considerably.
His agitation must have been obvious, because he was soon approached by a homely woman with a grubby apron tied over her dress. “You must be hungry, sir. Will you not sit and have some porridge? My husband tells me you’re keeping guard over your young sister. Really there’s no need. You may have heard about the trouble near here yesterday, but that sort of thing does not often happen around here.”
He frowned, thoughts momentarily distracted away from Elizabeth for the first time in almost a day. “What trouble?”
Her eyes widened. “You haven’t heard? My goodness, it was all people could talk about this morning. It seems a band of wanderers thought they could make camp there without anyone taking heed. Well, the young master rode all the way up from England and ran them from the place!”
“Did he indeed?” Darcy said hollowly, having already lost interest in the tale.
“That’s what I heard. From three different people too, no less. But don’t you worry. They were run off far away so as I say, you have no need to worry. It is your sister you’re here for, is it not? My husband picks things up wrong more often than not.”
He was distracted now. He wished she would leave him in peace but she showed no sign of doing so. He sighed. “Yes, my sister.”
She smiled indulgently. “How kind. I wish my brother were half as good to me. She must be a lovely young lady.”
He longed to ask her about another lovely young lady, but he could not bring himself to be so indiscreet. If he did that, the woman would no doubt learn of his intentions.
He frowned. No, that was not right. How could she know what he intended to do when he did not even know himself? All he had thought of was to go to the inn and see if she was still there. Then he had thought to wait downstairs in case she left early and he missed her.
He had spent all that time thinking of her and not a moment of it reflecting on what he might say to her when he actually saw her again.
“Perhaps you will bring me a bowl of porridge,” he said. He was not hungry and he could not understand why they would serve the heavy oat dish in the middle of summer, but he needed to be alone to think.
Why was he there? What was he even hoping to say to her? Had he not promised her he would never again burden her with his feelings?
Darcy’s mind worked hard to uncover the answers to those questions. But it did not work quickly enough.
Not five minutes later—before the innkeeper’s wife had even returned with his unwanted porridge—he saw a familiar figure descend the stairs.
It was her and she was even lovelier than he recalled. Her face the previous day had been lined with consternation and worry. Now it was rested and calm. As she moved down the steps, her eyes darted around the room. He smiled. They were as fine and lively as they had always been.
Suddenly he could not bear it. He had not seen her for more than a year and it had felt like a lifetime to him.
He stood just as her eyes found him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elizabeth stared, almost tripping down the last step of the staircase.
This was not right. What was Darcy doing there, sitting on a small chair facing the staircase?
Then she realised it. Perhaps he was back to pay his men’s accounts. She remembered her manners and bowed.
“Mr. Darcy.”
As soon as she said it, she frowned. He had gotten to his feet as soon as she saw him. She turned and looked back up the stairs, expecting to see some of his men stuck behind her. But it was just her aunt, looking rather puzzled indeed by her niece’s decision to stop on the stairs.
When she looked back, Darcy was almost by her side.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
She looked up into his eyes. She saw many emotions there, but she did not know what exactly. He appeared conflicted about something.
They had shared many conversations in the past but now she found she could not think of a single thing to say to him—not even something frivolous or silly.
“It is warm,” she said at last, smiling up at him as if she had just managed to recite a lengthy poem from memory.
He did not seem at all put off by her inanity. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Elizabeth turned towards her aunt and found she was no longer there.
“She went to the dining area,” Darcy said haltingly. He frowned. “Your aunt.”
“I see.”
At that moment, a woman Lizzy recognised as the cook emerged and walked towards Darcy with considerable insistence.
“Here you are, sir,” she said, holding out a steaming bowl of porridge. “I see you have moved from your vigil. Is this your sister?” She turned and looked at Lizzy. “She looks nothing like you. Do you wish to sit and eat your porridge? Go on now, before it gets cold.”
“I am not hungry.”
The woman’s eyes widened before narrowing again into a frown. “Not hungry? Well heaven help me, why did you ask me to fetch you some porridge? It’s not as if I don’t have a hundred other things to do.”
Darcy ignored her. His eyes had remained fixed on Lizzy for almost the entire exchange. The woman muttered something before turning and hurrying off just as quickly as she had approached.
“I am not hungry,” he said again, though only Elizabeth could have heard him.
She nodded. “Nor am I.” She looked around the inn. She could not see her aunt and uncle, but that meant nothing. The place was full of nooks and crannies they might have squeezed themselves into. “We slept a long time,” she said, silently admonishing herself for uttering such frightfully dull things in the presence of the man who had dominated her thoughts since she last saw him. “My aunt wondered if it was because there was a sleep elixir in the stew.”
Darcy laughed far too loudly for the poor quality of the jo
ke. “That is capital,” he said as his face returned to its usual stern glare.
My goodness, she thought. What has happened to him? It is as if neither of us is capable of uttering a single thing that a child might not.
“Did you conclude your business?”
The question seemed to jar him. He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking. Miss Elizabeth, I must apologise for the discourtesy I showed you yesterday.” He leaned forward and dipped his head so that his mouth was only inches from her ear. “There was something I needed to take care of and it concerned my estate. If you must know, my own sister stayed here last night too. You must think me frightfully rude for not inviting you all to stay at my estate.”
“No,” she said, astonished. “No, not at all. I—” she was about to declare that she had not been surprised given what had happened to her sister, but she stopped herself. It was not the sort of thing one uttered in an inn. Nor was there any need to say it. After all, it was likely that he would leave the place in a few moments and she would never see him again.
He smiled and she was comforted to see a glimpse of the man she had known for a period some time ago. “You are too kind. Now, I must rouse my sister. But before I do, I must beg you. Please do me the honour of joining me at my estate for the remainder of your visit. I must insist.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elizabeth stared at him dumbfounded. It was not at all what she had expected him to say.
“But I am travelling with my aunt and uncle.”
He frowned. “I am aware of it. I met them yesterday. You told me so when you introduced us.”
“I did,” she said absently.
“Please do not feel obligated. If you have other plans then you must proceed with them.”
“Yes,” she whispered, looking around for her aunt and uncle. “Yes, of course… Will you allow me to find my uncle and tell him about your kind offer?”
The Darcy Estate Page 5