“Yes…” She fiddled with the candle stick and finally pointed through the doorway into his room. “I believe you will find more clothes in …well, yes, of course, you know …if you leave your wet things …” She gasped.
His gaze followed her eyes and recognizing her own forgotten clothes and undergarments on the floor, he swiftly turned to face the opposite wall, while she quickly picked them up.
“Pray excuse me, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured. She left him the candle and rushed from the room.
He closed the door behind her, realizing he had not spoken more than four sentences since his arrival and walked to the large chair next to the empty fireplace and slumped down onto the holland cover, feeling an emotional exhaustion he had never felt before.Trapped. Trapped and alone with her. With no servants and a raging storm outside. This is a dream. And a nightmare.
After a moment, he peeled his wet clothes from his body and stepped to the dresser, opening the top drawer where he knew there were spare clothes, then stopped.How am I to survive the night with her in this house wearing nothing but my nightshirt?He grasped both edges of the cold wood and took a fortifying breath without raising his head.I will conquer this! I must!Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled out buckskins, a shirt, and a waist coat. With no cravat or jacket, his shirt fell open at the neck.This is the best you can do, Darce. He walked back over to the hearth, took some of the wood, and quickly built a fire to warm the room, laying out his clothes to dry. After several more minutes, he stood and took another breath. “You cannot hide in here forever, old man. Go see what you can do to make her more comfortable.” And with that, he released his breath and walked out to face the greatest challenge of his life.
“Miss Bennet?” Darcy whispered as he came back into the room. She was wrapped in the blanket on the couch in front of the fire, reading his book of poems. She looked up at him, and a slight rosiness spread over her cheeks.I should retire immediately if I am to remain in my senses.
“Pray, sir. Forgive me for making myself at home here.”
“Of course not,” he interrupted. “Pay it no consequence. You have already taken the lay of the land. I should count myself fortunate that you have everything prepared for my unexpected arrival.” He was about to sit on a wooden chair but noticed her pelisse draped across it.
“Oh, I can move that into the kitchen. I had planned on it,” she said, scrambling to get up.
“Miss Bennet, please do not trouble yourself. However, if you would like to place your …garments in my room, there is a roaring fire going and…well, everything…might dry more quickly. From my own experience,” he said, “this kitchen does not get hot enough to dry clothes, unless the undercook is here making bread. You had much better follow my suggestion so you would have clothes to wear on the morrow.” She blushed, and he was certain his cheeks burned the same.
“If you are sure?”
“Of course.”
“I thank you. I will remove them this evening before you sleep and place them out here.”
“Miss Bennet, I will not allow you to sleep out here in the sitting room.”
“No, Mr. Darcy, I will sleep in one of the guest quarters.”
“Of that, I cannot allow either. You will take my room, and I will sleep out here.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat in order to speak but she continued. “Sir, that is not possible. I cannot take your room. Either of the other rooms will be quite sufficient. They are larger than my room at Longbourn—”
“And unbeknownst to you, Miss Bennet, they are extremely uncomfortable. Even Bingley can attest that the couch is more comfortable than those beds. I daresay, it’s the couch or the stables for me.”
“You cannot very well sleep in the stables!” She tilted her head to the side and a few tendrils spilled down her shoulders, joining the rest of her tresses. He thought her pluck quite charming in the firelight. “Uncomfortable? I find it difficult to comprehend that anything on the grounds of Pemberley would be uncomfortable for a guest.”
He laughed at her response and sat beside her on the couch. “When I was young, probably seven or eight years old, my uncles, Sir Lewis de Bourgh and Lord Matlock, came for a hunt with Father. Father had only returned from a business trip from France, and Mother and I missed him terribly, but there was nothing to be done. This hunt had been planned and my uncles were already arrived.”
He shifted to face her while resting his elbow against the back of the couch and his fist against his cheek. “What was supposed to be a two-day hunting trip, turned into a week.”
“Was your mother not upset?”
“Exceedingly.” He smiled.
“I was surprised to discover a fine hunting lodge such as this on the grounds. Whyever did your father have it if your mother did not like him away?”
“It was built in my grandfather’s day. My grandfather enjoyed the convenience of his private retreat. And asyouknow, the grounds are ten miles around.” Darcy chuckled.
“Whatever happened?”
“Apparently Sir Lewis was having a splendid time without my aunt, and my uncle Matlock was having a splendid time without his mother-in-law who was visiting Matlock House. As my father was the host, he could not leave.”
“Was she able to convince your father to shorten his trip?” Miss Elizabeth leaned forward with curiosity. The firelight glimmered in her loose curls, making Darcy wonder again how it would feel to pull her to him and… He swallowed and looked away.
“Yes. One day, Father’s valet came back to the house for a change of clothes, Mother inquired when the men went out shooting in the morning and when they returned. She then sent servants to the attics for two very old and lumpy mattresses and instructed them to exchange the mattresses at the lodge.”
Miss Elizabeth clapped her hands and squealed with unguarded laughter. “And what occurred? Please tell me her plan worked.”
