“I did not remember precisely what I said, but I believe your version of events. I can imagine it being the sort of thing I would say, and am resolved not to be that manner of man in the future.” His heart was beating faster when he added, “But most clearly, I remember your eyes, with a kind of teasing smile in them.”
They were very near to one another now, stretching across diagonal sides of the bed, their faces nearly meeting at the middle. He wondered if she would as soon forget his proposal, and if, should they survive their kidnapping as Elizabeth felt certain they would, there was any way he could earn her good opinion.
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to his mouth and then slowly lifted back up to meet his eyes. Darcy was certain all the air was driven from his lungs. He opened his mouth to speak, but she then blinked and sat up, standing from the bed and looking every which way until her eyes landed on the tray.
“We should eat something, don’t you think?” she said in a high voice. “I doubt they will poison us, and who knows if they intend to feed us again.”
He gave her a long look, but it was clear she would not acknowledge what he was sure they had both just felt. Silently, he rose and looked at the tray near his feet. A teapot and two cups were next to two crockery pots and some spoons. There was no space to arrange the boxes into chairs and a table, and Elizabeth must have realised the same because she sat on the floor by the tray and arranged her skirts around her.
“What do you think they brought us?”
Darcy picked up one pot and poked at it with a spoon. They were clearly not to be trusted with anything sharp. “Potted something.” He scraped aside the butter and tasted it. “Salmon, I think.” After swallowing, he said, “I think it has been kept closer to months than weeks.”
Elizabeth gave a pained smile and tried her own. “I think mine is a small bird, but I cannot tell which one.”
“Would you like to trade?” he asked, holding out his with a wry smile.
She wrinkled her nose. “Neither will be good. It is the sort of thing we would bring to eat in the carriage.”
He nodded. “It brings back memories of changing horses at an inn.”
Elizabeth poured tea for them both from a chipped pot. “They have left us no sugar, I am afraid.”
“I do not take sugar in tea or coffee.”
“Do you fear for your teeth? I rarely see them, but I would say they look rather good.”
He was being teased, but he answered truthfully. “I am so harrowed by statements of West Indian slavery that I have given up taking sugar.”
Her playful expression fell. “The slave trade has now ended, thank goodness, but the practice is still in place. Slavery, however it may be modified, is still slavery.”
“And it is much to be regretted that any trace of it should exist in countries dependent on England. My parents joined the abolitionists, and Pemberley prohibited sugar years ago.”
“You have entirely given it up? I am trying to recall if I have seen you eat custard or a tart or a cake.”
“I only buy sugar from the East Indies. I cannot be so particular when I am eating at someone else’s home and harass my hostess about her desserts, but I can at the least refuse the sugar they put on the table.”
“And if someone asks you why you take no sugar, I am certain that you would answer.”
Elizabeth was giving him an approving smile. Darcy realised he was not accustomed to receiving such a look from her. “Lady Catherine claims she only uses East India sugar, but she is more concerned with appearing to be aligned with that cause rather than having any strong feelings on the cause itself. It is not as though one can tell by the taste where the sugar comes from.”
“Do you think she puts a great deal of sugar in her cherry brandy?” she asked, laughing.
He made a face, and she laughed a little more. The memory of Lady Catherine’s awful brandy made the potted whatever it was taste more tolerable. “Let us hope she never takes it into her head to make elder wine or mead,” he said drily. “I highly doubt the amount or origin of the sugar is that brandy’s problem.”
“Since you are so principled, you must have few cakes at Pemberley. East India sugar is expensive.”
He smiled. “You would be amazed what my cook can produce with honey.”
“You have a sweet tooth?” She seemed amused, as though she had discovered a secret. “Do you have many beekeepers?”
“Just Charles Farber and his son. Their family has four acres for tending the bees, and has done so for several generations. His grandson, I am told, has no interest in the tenancy, but he is about three and terrified of being stung. I can suppose his opinion will change.”
She laughed again, and Darcy was charmed by her amusement.
“You must have hundreds of people in your care.” He nodded. “And you know their internal characters and circumstances in addition to their manners of business?” He nodded again, and Elizabeth fell quiet, giving him an appraising look with a soft smile.
After a stretch of silence while they finished their food she said gently, “They will all worry for you, when they hear what has happened.”
