“Mayhap she is an imposter, and my Jane is still at Longbourn. Either way, I do not think I shall be sharing any confidences with her on—my goodness, look at the river!”
They had reached the Rush. Darcy did not look but instead lifted her onto his horse, swung up behind her and nudged the animal forward.
“It is grown so fierce!” she exclaimed, leaning forward in the saddle and peering over the horse’s withers into the water. “It was not like this when I crossed with Bess. Look!”
“I have seen it,” Darcy replied, pulling her back and pinning her firmly against his chest. “I spent a good while looking in it foryouon my last crossing.”
For several heartbeats, she made no reply and sat very still andvery quiet in his arms. Too still and too quiet by far, in fact. He was unsurprised that, when she spoke, it was to tease him.
“You truly do have a penchant for the dramatic, do you not? You are always determined to think me injured—or dead!”
He held his tongue, glad she could not see his chagrined expression. She was perfectly right, of course, but the woman already knew she divested him of all reason and was heartless to cavil so. She said nothing more, though the look she gave him as he reached to lift her down on the opposite bank left him in no doubt of her vast amusement.
“Besides,” she said as he set her on her feet, “if you recall, you did not give me leave to die again.”
Her grin promptly disappeared, and she proceeded to fulfil all his fears by taking one step and slipping on the muddy ground, stumbling directly towards the river. He tugged her sharply back towards him, but doing so lost him his own footing, and he skidded into his horse, off whose meaty shoulder he rebounded, colliding forcefully with Elizabeth before sailing past her to land unceremoniously on his seat in the mud.
If her hilarity was aught to go by, this was possibly the most diverting thing Elizabeth had ever witnessed. She laughed the sort of laugh that made no sound for want of air in the lungs, and tears streamed down her face. There was nothing to be done but fold his arms resignedly over his knees and watch his beautiful, vivacious wife slip and skate about on the muddy riverbank until she exhausted her mirth. When, after several moments, she did not look as though she would, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down into his lap, putting an end to her laughter by commandeering her mouth for his own purpose.
They walked home hand in hand with the sun hot on their backs once more, delivering his horse to the stables and stealing into the house through a side door. Not ready for their adventure to end, Darcy pulled her into an alcove and indulged in another leisurely kiss. It rapidly grew less leisurely, and he transferred his attentions along her jaw and down her neck. She made a little noise of pleasure in her throat that he felt on his lips and that was that. How the woman didwhat she did to him he would never know, but he was instantly aching for her.
“Think you we could sneak upstairs unnoticed?”
“You certainly ought to try before Miss Bingley sees the state of you,” she whispered. “She would not approve of all that mud.”
“When did you begin to care for Miss Bingley’s opinion?”
“She has so many. They are difficult to avoid.”
He would have laughed were he not so aroused. Instead, her wit made him want her more, which meant his thoughts had taken on a decidedly lascivious hue by the time she added, “Just this morning I heard her say that I am beneath you.”
His nostrils flared. “That is where I prefer to have you.”
He savoured the look that earned him, but their interlude was not to last. A door banged open a short distance away, and a footman hurried out of the passage from the kitchen. After him wafted the distinct aroma of cooking, and that was enough to turn Elizabeth’s fragile stomach. She groaned and clasped a hand over her mouth, mumbling an apology through her fingers.
“Go! Get thee upstairs,” he whispered, nudging her in that direction. “I shall see to our guests.”
She nodded and disappeared around the corner at a pace. A heartbeat later, Bingley came around the same corner, his face overspread with concern.
“Darcy, you are returned.”
“We are.”
“Good. And, is everything—is Lizzy well?”
“She is, thank you.”
“You are certain? For I just saw her, and I must say she seemed rather distressed.”
Conscious of Elizabeth’s wish for discretion, Darcy dissembled with a vague reference to her being tired after such a long walk.
“She is not ill after being out in the rain, I hope,” Bingley persisted, frowning. “She looked uncommonly pale.”
“She was not caught in the rain.”She is with child—my child!he wished to say, and though he did not, he found himself hard-pressed to keep the exultant grin from his face. “Mayhap, the Derbyshire air does not agree with her. No doubt she will become accustomed to it in time. Or learn not to walk so far in it. Stop fussing,” he added when Bingley looked as though he would object. “Elizabeth is perfectly well.She has only gone upstairs to change. As must I, now I have informed you of our return. Pray, excuse me.”
“Good God, what happened to you?” Bingley exclaimed as Darcy passed him by, apparently noticing his muddied apparel for the first time.
“Elizabeth happened!” he replied over his shoulder. “I tell you, Bingley, no one else’s wife seems to give them this much bother!”
