Mrs. Younge stepped forward, her expression a perfect mask of helpless femininity that Darcy knew concealed a calculating mind. “We are in quite desperate straits, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps you might suggest an alternative? The hour grows late.”
The first fat raindrops began to fall, spattering on the dusty road. Elizabeth’s travel dress would provide little protection from a true downpour, and the thought of her standing drenched by the roadside provoked an unwelcome surge of protective instinct that Darcy attempted to suppress.
“I have paid for the entire journey to Lambton,” Elizabeth was saying to the post-boy, her voice holding a note of desperation. “Surely you can provide some reimbursement, given that you cannot complete the service?”
The post-boy shook his head, looking genuinely regretful yet unmovable. “Can’t do it, miss. Company policy. Payment is for the attempt, not guaranteed arrival.”
“Please,” Elizabeth pressed, her voice softening to a tone Darcy had never heard from her before. “Even a partial refund would allow me to secure alternate transportation.”
Darcy watched her fingers twist in the fabric of her skirts—a rare display of vulnerability from a woman who had always seemed composed, even in her impertinence. The sight stirred something uncomfortable in his chest.
“Sorry, ma’am, even if I wanted to, I don’t have the coin. You will have to wait until we get the wheel repaired.” The post-boy turned away from Elizabeth, leaving her with an expression of such distress that Darcy was moved to alleviate.
“I cannot in good conscience leave two ladies stranded on the road,” he addressed the air between them. “My carriage canaccommodate you to the next coaching inn, where you might arrange for continued travel tomorrow.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with surprise, while Mrs. Younge’s narrowed with calculation.
“How extraordinarily kind,” Mrs. Younge murmured. “We would be most grateful.”
Darcy disliked the idea of that woman in his carriage, breathing the same air, sitting across from him with her false smiles and treacherous eyes. The woman who had nearly destroyed Georgiana through her collaboration with Wickham. Yet he could hardly separate the two travelers—propriety forbade him from traveling alone with Miss Bennet, regardless of how much he might prefer Mrs. Younge’s absence.
“We shall depart immediately,” he said curtly. “The rain appears determined to worsen.”
As if to confirm his words, the scattered drops transformed into a steady patter. Elizabeth glanced up at the darkening sky, then back to Darcy, pride and necessity warring in her expression.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said finally. “We accept your generous offer.”
Darcy nodded stiffly, gesturing toward his carriage while instructing his driver to secure the ladies’ bags, noting that Elizabeth only carried a small valise. Even though the situation was suspect, he could not abandon a gentleman’s daughter to the elements, regardless of his discomfort in her presence
As he handed Elizabeth into the carriage, her gloved fingers resting momentarily upon his, Darcy felt a spark that made his fingers twinge. Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she withdrew her hand hastily. The color enhanced her already considerable beauty, bringing life to features tired from travel. Darcy gazed a moment too long before he recollected himself and turned to offer the same courtesy to Mrs. Younge, though with considerably less enthusiasm.
The seating arrangement presented an immediate dilemma. Histraveling carriage afforded comfortable accommodation for four, with facing benches upholstered in fine burgundy leather. Etiquette demanded he take the forward-facing seat, but that would place him directly opposite Elizabeth, forced to meet those disconcertingly perceptive eyes for the entire journey.
“Perhaps you would prefer to face forward, Miss Bennet,” he suggested stiffly. “Ladies often find backward travel disagreeable.”
“How thoughtful,” Mrs. Younge interjected before Elizabeth could respond. “Miss Bennet has indeed mentioned some discomfort. I shall join her, of course.”
This arrangement would place both women opposite him, and his jaw tightened at Mrs. Younge’s presumption.
Elizabeth settled herself against the window, arranging her skirts with the natural grace that seemed to accompany even her most mundane movements. “Your carriage is most comfortable, Mr. Darcy,” she offered, an obvious attempt to break the tension that had settled between them.
“Comfort is necessary for distance.” He immediately regretted the dull response.
Vernon, his man of business, entered last, offering a respectful nod to the ladies before taking his place beside Darcy. The carriage shifted slightly as the driver secured the luggage, then again as he mounted the box. The confined space seemed to shrink further as the doors were closed, trapping them in a bubble of awkward silence punctuated only by the drumming of rain against the roof.
“I understand we’re bound for the Hare and Hounds at Matlock,” Vernon said, mercifully interrupting the silence. “A respectable establishment, I believe?”
“Quite,” Darcy confirmed, grateful for his employee’s social grace. “Though I have not stayed there myself.”
“Will you gentlemen be stopping over as well?” Mrs. Younge inquired. “The weather seems determined to worsen.”
“We shall continue directly to Pemberley after escorting you tothe inn,” Darcy replied firmly. “My household is accustomed to my arrival at all hours.”
Mrs. Younge’s expression shifted to one of exaggerated concern. “Oh dear. I had rather hoped… that is, I fear Miss Bennet may not have sufficient funds for both the inn and hiring another post-chaise tomorrow.” Her gaze drifted pointedly to Elizabeth. “Our journey has been more costly than anticipated, has it not, my dear?”
Elizabeth stiffened, color flooding her cheeks. “I assure you, Mrs. Younge, I am perfectly capable of securing a stagecoach tomorrow. Your concerns, while appreciated, are unnecessary.”
“A stagecoach?” Mrs. Younge’s laugh held a brittle edge. “After the discomfort I have endured on your behalf? I must say, Miss Bennet, our arrangement has proven far more… taxing than the compensation provided.”
