They both began pushing and pulling and pounding, doing anything to get the door to open as a light rain, the sort that suggested worse to come, began to fall. The latch positively would not release.
“I fear we are stuck,” she said, looking up at him.
Darcy looked at her, and his breath caught. She was beautiful in the rain, tiny droplets clinging to the curls around her face. He managed to utter some nonsense about broken pieces within the lock and the like, but he hardly knew what he said, so enraptured was he.
Rain began to fall harder, in large, cold drops. Elizabeth shivered lightly, and he realised if nothing else, he ought to keep her gown from getting too wet. He had attire he might change into; she did not, and wetted gowns tended to become rather indecent. Heaven only knew he had seen enough ladies dampen their gowns on purpose at parties in London to understand how that went.
“Here,” he said, removing his coat. “Wear this.”
“Thank you but no, I could not,” she demurred immediately.
“You must,” he said gently. “If the rain becomes harder, your gown might not be…quite presentable afterwards.”
He could not tell in the darkness, but it seemed she blushed a little, understanding his meaning.
“Oh. Yes, an excellent point.” With a wry grin, she took his coat, donning it, looking absolutely charming in it. “I shall never understand why it is that men’s attire is so very…sturdy while ladies, who are generally much more likely to take a chill, have these thin fabrics and light colours.”
He did not have time to reply, for the rain then came in earnest, sudden sheets of it that drenched him immediately. With a little yelp, Elizabeth moved to press herself beneath the small overhang, inadvertently putting herself even closer to him as well. Darcy swallowed, then applied his efforts to forcing the door, feeling his shirt and waistcoat become sodden and stickto his body.And so Saye will prevail again.I had not imagined him capable of summoning up foul weather but here we are.
“Perhaps we ought to break the glass?” Elizabeth suggested. “Maybe it will open from the other side?”
Darcy shook his head, but as he opened his mouth to explain the futility of such a recourse, Hartham appeared on the other side of the glazing, smirking. He called through the door, “Saye and I thought we saw you going upstairs. He said you might be coming here. I heard the rain and worried you might have been surprised.”
“The handle broke,” Elizabeth called in reply. “We cannot get the door open.”
“Let me see if I can help!” Hartham gave a quick glance about and grabbed a piece of lumber, which he used as a battering ram. With one solid shove, the door gave way. He regarded them loftily as they stepped inside, putting a hand on his hip and looking Elizabeth over. “Is this a new fashion I am unaware of? A man’s coat over a gown? I am not sure it is doing your figure any justice, I am sorry to say.”
“Mr Darcy was gallant enough to sacrifice his own comfort to keep my gown protected against the rain. And well he did! I cannot vouch for the opacity of it, should it be soaked.”
“Merciful heavens,” Hartham drawled. Then with a flicker of his eyes towards Darcy, he said, “Well, Mr Darcy had best toddle off to his valet, but thanks to his efforts, you, I think, may come back with me to the party.”
“Perhaps I might find a towel to blot the rain from my hair first, but then yes, I daresay I should be presentable enough to go down,” Elizabeth agreed. “Mr Darcy, I do thank you for your assistance.”
She removed his coat and extended it to him, a look of warmth in her eyes that belied her earlier anger. Something in his chest tightened. Reaching for the coat, he leant into her and said, as quietly as possible, “A beautiful, clever woman can never be pitied.”
She held his gaze, looking uncertain. He stepped back from her and offered a small smile.
Very loudly, Hartham said, “Mr Darcy, I must thank you, for filling my pockets earlier. I daresay you will want it back later, eh? We shall see you once your valet has done with you.” He extended his arm to Elizabeth, leaving her no choice but to take it, and bore her off into the house.
17
Elizabeth returned to the party only slightly damp but more than slightly addled. The contrariety of her feelings, and the intensity of them, was vastly confusing her. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she allowed herself to be escorted to a sofa amid the rest of the party and handed a glass of wine. There were some still at the card tables while others ate from the generously laden tables of refreshments. Miss Larkin stood by the window, allowing Colonel Fitzwilliam to flirt with her, but it did not escape Elizabeth’s notice that she glanced, continually, at the door.Looking for Mr Darcy no doubt!
It had been absolutely intolerable, watching Mr Darcy and Miss Larkin make love to one another at the card table. Intolerable! He had leant over the woman on a multitude of occasions and then would tug at his cravat like a bashful schoolgirl. At one point, Elizabeth had considered asking him if he would like to use her fan to flirt more thoroughly. It had angered her beyond reason—far more than his cheating had, even if shehad attempted to makethatthe primary source of her vexation with him.
Yet, though she could pretend to Mr Darcy, she could not lie to herself about the true cause of her anger. She was jealous of Miss Larkin. It was a realisation against which her mind fought instinctively and vehemently for several minutes—she had no desire to marry him and no reason to be jealous!—until her heart whispered that her protests were in vain.
His letter after that fateful night back in April had certainly disposed her to think better of him. His solicitude towards her here in Brighton, his unexpected amiability, and his own admission to jealousy had done so even more. And then, on the balcony, wrapped within his coat, the warmth of him enrobing her…
She groaned a little, wishing for these thoughts to be gone.
“Are you well?” Mr Hartham asked. “You are not falling ill from being out in the rain, are you?”
“Oh, no,” she said with a little laugh. “It is nothing.”
He quirked his brow at her. “Perhaps wishing I had not come along when I did?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I was longing for escape. No one wishes to be locked out on a balcony in the driving rain.”
