“Oh dear,” I repeated, my voice gravelly and thick. The rain poured in sheets now. Even were there a house nearby, I would not see it through the sudden thick fog and rain. I stared up at the heavens, thick raindrops pelting my cheeks, at a loss to know where to go and wondering how this situation could get any worse.
“I do not suppose your groom is nearby with a spare horse?”
I spoke through gritted teeth. “He is at Netherfield, caring for my ailing horse.”
“You are riding alone?”
“You are walking alone.”
The rain hardened into hail, striking my hat and bouncing on the ground. Desperate, I squinted into the fog, searching for anything solid that might offer shelter.
Elizabeth burrowed into me, her face pressed against my neck, her body trembling. “The nearest building is a tenant house that way.” She lifted one arm and pointed.
I started walking in long, cautious strides in the direction she indicated. We would be quite a sight for the poor family. I could only hope they were not too large of a family, for tenant dwellings were small and we might cramp them for space until the storm abated.
How long that might be, it was impossible to determine. Judging from the thick gloom surrounding us, it would storm for the rest of the day, perhaps into the night.
A flash of lightning blinded me, a roll of thunder booming while I blinked to see.
“That was close!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
Much too close. We needed shelter, and we needed it now.
I prayed the horse would find its way to the Meryton stables without incident. They would see my saddle, but they would not be so reckless as to ride out in this weather.
Boots slurping and sliding over the slick field, I clutched Elizabeth tightly to me, trying not to notice how her body molded against mine, how her fingers intertwined into my hair at the back of my neck, how her other hand wadded my cravat at my chest… I moved faster, towards the safety of the tenant house and the people inside.
The cabin finally came into view. I ran toward our salvation, chased by another bolt of lightning and crash of thunder. Shoving the door open, I charged inside, muddy boots and dripping coat, apologizing to the inhabitants for the intrusion.
The cold, dark interior offered no comfort. Nobody was there. Not one soul.
I did not know why I had expected anything else. Since meeting Elizabeth, nothing had gone according to expectation… or propriety.
In front of me was a fireplace; to the right, a single bed; to the left, a small table and chair. It was not much, but I was heartened to see wood by the fire and a blanket on the bed.
Hail pounded against the single windowpane, making me grateful for the roof over our heads. Setting Elizabeth on the bed and pulling the blanket up around her shoulders, I occupied myself with the fire, looking about the fireplace until I found the flint to make a spark.
Once the fire was lit, I spent an inordinate amount of time fanning the flames and placing the wood just so in order to delay turning around to face Elizabeth. I did not know what to say, and I suspected she did not, either. She had been silent since we had entered the vacant tenant house.
This was now the third compromising situation into which we had found ourselves. Judging from the sound of the wind and hail pushing and pulling on the walls, we would not be leaving this abandoned room anytime soon?certainly not before one of us was missed.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her sitting on the single bed, her hurt ankle raised on a pillow. I swallowed hard. Of all the stories of compromises I had heard or imagined, this was the worst. What if we were forced to stay overnight?
I could not leave her here alone without protection in a stranger’s cottage in the cold without food, especially when she was in pain. I hoped Elizabeth had enjoyed a hearty meal earlier that day.
“Mr. Darcy?” Her voice was soft, uncertain.
Taking a deep breath, I finally turned away from the fire.
She had wrapped the blanket up and over her head, her skin pale and her eyes exceptionally large in the center of the opening. “I saw him… Mr. Wickham. He limped.”
My breath leaked out of my lungs in a slow hiss. I bowed my head, nodding and avoiding her gaze once again—not because I was ashamed, but because she probably felt that way on account of her sister. If she knew how near to ruin Wickham had brought my own sister, she would realize I was incapable of judging her.
Her knuckles tightened around the blanket. “Lydia is too impulsive for her own good. She has been allowed too much freedom, and I shudder to think what would have happened had you not intervened. I… I wish to thank you.”
My head jerked up. She was grateful? To me? When I had unwittingly done so much to make her think poorly of me?
She sucked in a breath and continued, “I did not see the mark on Lydia’s neck at the ball, but I knew you would never involve yourself with us unless it could not be avoided. What a scandalous sight we must have been that night!”
