Darcy had to fight to keep silent as the maid chastised his Elizabeth. But he could only keep her safe from the spy by playing his role, so he turned his back and marched into the schoolroom.
“Look, Kapitan!” cried Alexandrine. “I have finished the entire page!”
His life had been turned upside down, Elizabeth was in danger, and yet the children had noticed nothing.
Why in God’s name had she risked everything to come here? He ought to be furious with her, but all he wanted was to hold her in his arms again and never let her go.
Elizabeth returned to the kitchen in a daze, mumbling a confession about dropping the tray. The upstairs maid, the lazy girl, came to take a new one upstairs, once again scolding Elizabeth for her clumsiness. Elizabeth barely registered it.
Her mind was spinning. Darcy was here, he was free – or so it seemed? – and he had held her and kissed her. Oh, how she wanted to go racing up there simply to be with him. She had so many questions for him, so much to tell him, and no way to do it without risking their safety.
She spent the afternoon devising schemes to contact him, but it was pointless. She had to wait for Darcy to take the first step. He knew the house and its inhabitants, what was possible and what was not. He would find a way somehow.
Several hours later, Mme. Hartung came down to the kitchen to discuss the menu with the cook. Elizabeth listened with half an ear as she worked on the mending the cook had given her. At least that was a servant’s task she was competent at, after all her years sewing her land Talent into handkerchiefs for Jane.
Mme. Hartung approached her, and under the guise of inspecting her work, whispered, “Go to the carriage shed when all the house is abed. He will be there.”
Elizabeth caught her breath. The lady of the house knew Darcy’s secret? Of course she must; she had claimed he was her cousin. But she must not show her surprise. “Merci, madame,” she murmured.
Tonight. She would be alone with him tonight.
Chapter 29
Darcy opened the shutteron the lantern a fraction of an inch, just enough to lighten the worst of the darkness inside the carriage shed while leaving plenty of dark shadows to hide in. It was a good location for a surreptitious meeting. The large double doors were bolted from the inside, leaving only the small entryway on the side. Most of the space was taken up by the small carriage that had first brought him here from the fae burrow, half delirious with pain. He winced at the memory.
Soon Elizabeth would be here. It was a miracle – and a disaster. Elation and anger had been battling for supremacy since he had seen her this afternoon, the joy of touching her and speaking to her fighting with his anger that she would take such a terrible risk, both for herself and their child. Why had she not waited at Pemberley as she was supposed to? What madness had brought her to France?
What was happening in England to cause her to come after him, and how had she found him when Napoleon’s troops could not? And there was the dread of telling her about his arm – and the disaster he had created with his failure. The husband she remembered had never known what it was to go hungry for days, to be hunted like a dog by men who wanted him dead, or to be in constant pain from a wound. And all for nothing. His love for her was deeper than ever, but he was not the same man she had married.
The side door opened a few inches. Elizabeth’s face peered around it, and then she stepped inside and pushed back the hood of her cloak.
She was here, and that was all that mattered. None of his plans, the worries about someone following her, nothing except his Elizabeth. She was a magnet that drew him, the flame to his moth. He strode forward even as she ran towards him.
Then his good arm was around her, holding her tightly. She was real, and she was here, and he was complete again.
He could not hold her close enough. How had he ever managed to leave her, to give up this connection that filled him with such joy and warmth? His need for her roared through him, for the delight of her laughter, the sheer dancing pleasure of her presence, and the desire that raced through him at her touch. He buried his face in the softness of her hair, breathing in the essence of Elizabeth as if he could never get enough.
All his cares disappeared in the intoxication of her. He sought out her soft lips – and tasted salt. She was crying. Now he could feel the trembling in her shoulders. “Oh, my dearest love,” he whispered. “What is the matter? Did someone hurt you?” He could not tell her all was well, for it most certainly was not.
She took an uneven, gasping breath. “Nothing. It has just been so long, and I did not know if I would ever see you again.” She straightened and moved back a little, as if remembering where they were. “And you…are you well?”
“As well as I can be.” His eyes roved down her body in the flickering shadowy light, and he brought his hand to rest on her swollen abdomen. “I can hardly believe this. He has grown so much.” His child, right there beneath his fingers.
“He is a little rapscallion, always kicking and moving around,” Elizabeth said fondly, covering his hand with her own. “But he is quiet now. Or she.”
How intimate it felt, their fingers together, covering the child they had made. In the midst of this disaster, it was a moment of pure life-giving connection. “I wish I had been there for all of it.”
She wiped her eyes. “You are here now.” And then her hand went to his right elbow, and ran down to the fingertips hanging limply by his side. She had noticed, before he even had time to tell her.
He braced himself. “I was shot in the shoulder.”
She nodded slowly. “The fae told me, the one who came with news of the dragon lodestone.”
So the creature who rescued him had followed his request. Darcy forced himself to go on. “The wound healed, but my arm lacks any real strength.” It was nothing compared to all the men who had lost arms or legs in the war, but it was still not his favorite subject.
She caught her breath. “Will it get better in time?”
“Mme. Hartung thinks it may, but I can hardly consult a doctor.” He could hear the harshness in his own voice. But how he had hated this, giving her the bad news.
