“You have?” Jane enquired, but she was ignored.
“Charles, you astound me,” Caroline said. “Surely, even you can comprehend the injury such wilful gaucherie will do to her reputation?”
“For God’s sake, Caroline, she went for a walk.Sometimes, I declare you are more fastidious than Darcy.”
“Am I? I thought he would spit when he heard she had brought the girl into the house.”
Bingley flinched. Jane was sure of it.
“Nonsense. Darcy was only concerned that Elizabeth might be caught in the rain.” He must not have convinced himself, for soon after, he added, “Think you it was her other activities that displeased him?”
At last, a chink had appeared in Elizabeth’s armour where Bingley might actually see it. “It certainly seemed so,” Jane said quietly, which only increased Bingley’s disquiet, thereby exacerbating her own umbrage and provoking her to say more. “We must not blame him. Mr Darcy has been very kind to indulge Lizzy’s disregard for propriety this long, but he has a right to expect his wife to comport herself properly—as other wives take the trouble to do for their husbands.”
“Well said, my dear,” Caroline interjected. To her brother, she added, “But I hardly think it would be well-advised for us to dwell on the Darcys’ marriage.”
“What would you have us discuss, Caroline?”
“You had best keep to the weather, Charles. It is safest.”
Fortunately for all, the weather seemed intent on providing them with as much to talk about as it could with its blustering winds and sporadic thunder and lightning—even, when the conversation looked to be flagging, throwing in a brief bout of hail for extra measure. No further mention of Elizabeth’s impropriety, or anybody’s opinion of it, was made as they waited with various degrees of anxiety for their hosts’ return.
Bullscroft farm was a little over two miles from Pemberley. Alone and in good weather, Elizabeth might ordinarily have walked there and back within an hour. With Powell’s daughter in tow, who was but five or six years old if Darcy’s memory served him correctly, he supposed he could add half an hour to that. Even so, sheoughtto have returned by now. The danger of a fever to her and the baby terrified him, but the farther he went without finding her, the more concerned hebecame that something even more serious had befallen her, for she was nowhere to be seen.
His alarm reached new heights when he came to the Rush, a ford so named for the sudden violent currents that arose there after heavy rain, rendering the otherwise easy crossing treacherous. As he feared, the water gushed ferociously, shin-high over the stone crossing. He could see no sign she had come to harm there, but it gave him no relief, for it then became just another place that Elizabeth was not.
“Curse it, woman. Do not do this to me!” he muttered, willing her to stop being lost and start being damn well found.
When he came within view of the farmstead with still no sign of her, he gave in to a moment’s panic. Acknowledging that a greater search effort was required, he urged his horse on faster to the house, where he might summon assistance. A child within yelped when he hammered on the door, but there was no room in his thundering heart for contrition. He had not a moment to lose. Too slowly, his knock was answered, and Mrs Powell opened the door.
“Good ’eavens, Mr Darcy! Come in out the rain!”
She dipped a hurried curtsey and stepped aside. Darcy removed his hat and ducked beneath the lintel. Inside, he straightened and froze. There, before a fireplace, with not a hint of dampness about her and a look of astonishment upon her face, sat Elizabeth. Only ingrained propriety prevented him lunging forward to drag her into his arms, though restraint rendered his first words exceedingly brusque. “Mrs Darcy. You are here.”
“I am,” she replied, gently manoeuvring a small child aside and rising to stand before him. “As are you, for which I cannot account. Has something happened at the house?”
He knew not whether he wished most to rail at her or to kiss her. “Nothing other than its mistress is feared lost in a storm.”
Her eyes widened. “You thought me out walking in this? How you must have worried! I would have sent word, only”—she lowered her voice to barely a whisper—“I thought you would know I should never be so foolish.”
“I assumed it began after you set out. You left Pemberley some hours ago, and neither of the ladies thought you meant to tarry here long.”
She gave a small, sardonic huff of laughter. “I do not doubt it! But no, that was not my intention. Only, Bess and I had such adventureson our walk, it took us twice as long as it should have to get here, and by then, the rain had begun, so I stayed. The children have kept me well entertained though. Master Timothy has sung to me, and Master John allowed me to hold his pet frog.”
Tearing his eyes from her for the first time since entering the house, Darcy became aware that two young boys were in attendance also. He bowed formally and thanked them for keeping Elizabeth safe.
“I kept ’er entertaineded too!” the child by the fire squeaked.
“Indeed you did!” Elizabeth said happily. “And would you like to show Mr Darcy the sketch you made?”
The girl nodded and came forward, timidly bearing a slate on which was chalked some manner of beast with stick limbs, large teeth and flaming eyes.
“Very impressive!” Darcy told her. “What is it?”
She drew herself up proudly. “Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth’s shaky outpouring of breath ill-concealed her laughter and in no way assisted Darcy’s attempt to contain his own. He bit the insides of his cheeks and sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, though it was Mrs Powell’s stammered apologies that truly saved him.
“Do not distress yourself, madam. I am sure your daughter intended no impertinence.” He declined her subsequent offer of refreshments upon observing that the storm had exhausted itself. Leaving his regards for her husband, he bade them farewell, and within a few minutes, he and Elizabeth were headed for home, his horse following behind them. He walked rapidly, wildly impatient to reach the bend in the lane that would take them out of sight of the little girl yet waving from the farmhouse door, but Elizabeth pre-empted him.
