CHAPTER ONE
A RUINOUS ARRANGEMENT
Of all thehumiliations Elizabeth Bennet had anticipated when refusing Mr. Collins’s proposal, being thrown out of a coaching inn in a December storm had not been among them.
“I’ve told you three times now, miss. No coin, no room.” The innkeeper folded his beefy arms across his chest. “I’ve paying customers what need beds.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin, summoning dignity despite the rain soaking through her pelisse. “Surely there must be some arrangement we can come to. I am a gentleman’s daughter, and?—”
“What you are don’t matter here. It’s what you can pay that counts.”
The slashing rain and vicious wind pelted against her face, stripping away the last vestiges of her respectability along with her warmth. Her trunk was already thrown into the yard, half-submerged in a puddle.
Two days ago, she had been Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, a gentleman’s daughter with a home, family, and future—however modest. Now she stood alone in the yard of the Red Lion, havingcommitted the unpardonable sin of refusing to marry Mr. Collins and saving her family from the hedgerows.
“At least allow me to wait in your taproom until the storm passes,” she attempted, though the futility of this request was evident in the innkeeper’s expression before she had even finished speaking.
“Taproom’s for customers,” he replied, glancing meaningfully at the darkening sky. “And it’ll be filling up soon with the weather turning. Men what’ve been on the road all day, wanting ale and food. No place for a lady without escort.”
The way he said “lady” made it clear he already questioned her status as such. Being alone at a coaching inn after dark was enough to cast doubt on any woman’s respectability. Not that her parents cared when her hired coach abandoned her not twelve miles from Longbourn while the footman and maid disappeared with her traveling cash.
“Then where am I to go?” she asked, a note of helplessness creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to suppress it. “It is nearly dark, and the storm?—”
“Not my concern,” he said, turning away. “I run an inn, not a charity house.”
The taproom door swung open, spilling light and raucous male laughter into the yard. Several rough-looking men stumbled out, already deep in their cups. Their gazes fell upon Elizabeth with an interest that made her skin crawl.
“Well now, what have we here?” one called, nudging his companion. “Bit of sport left out in the rain?”
Elizabeth stepped backward, her boot heel sinking into the mud. There was nowhere to retreat—the inn’s wall was immediately behind her, the men approaching from the front. For the first time in her life, she knew true fear, unmitigated by wit or intellect or any of the defenses that had always served her before.
“The lady is with me.”
The deep voice came from her left, steady and commanding. Elizabeth turned to find Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of all peoplestanding there, his tall figure imposing even with rain soaking his greatcoat.
The men, sensing something in his bearing that she had always interpreted as arrogance but now recognized as authority, muttered apologies and retreated back into the taproom.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, surprised. “What on earth are you doing here alone?”
Before she could fabricate a socially acceptable explanation, the innkeeper reappeared. “Sir, I was explaining to the young lady that we’ve no rooms available. With the storm, we’re full to bursting.”
“Surely you can find something suitable for the lady,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone making it clear this was not a request.
“Impossible, sir. Every bed is taken, and more coaches arriving by the hour as the roads flood.”
“Then she will take my room.”
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth protested. “I cannot possibly?—”
“And where will you sleep, sir?” the innkeeper asked, the knowing look making Elizabeth’s stomach drop.
“That is none of your concern,” Mr. Darcy replied coldly. “Kindly have the lady’s trunk brought upstairs, and a hot meal sent up as well.”
The innkeeper hesitated, calculating whether the potential scandal was worth the trouble. Mr. Darcy reached into his pocket and withdrew several coins that gleamed even in the dim light.
“For your discretion.”
The innkeeper’s fingers closed around the money. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He turned and barked orders at a stable boy to bring in her trunk.
