What could we say to one another after being in each other’s arms?
Elizabeth could turn around and say that she wanted to kiss him, that she wanted to know him better, that she was falling in love with him. As she looked at her swollen cheek and wan reflection, she knew instead they had to think on what to do next, to be ready for whatever had to happen tonight so she and Darcy could escape.
Chapter Nine
There was something inherently strange about being held a prisoner and wanting to kiss a woman who had just made herself be sick.
While Elizabeth busied herself at the washstand, Darcy wondered what to say about his almost kissing her. A few days ago, she made it clear that she would not marry him, but did a few poignant conversations and an experience that would inevitably tie them together—assuming they both survived—change her mind? She had some admiration for him, but was it only from their being forced together?
Darcy avoided catching Elizabeth’s eye in the mirror as he considered her feelings. If there was a sincere affection for him there, what would happen when they were safe and only saw one another across a crowded drawing room?
She turned from the mirror and sat next to him, facing into the room just as he was. She seemed uncomfortable, but was that because she had just forced herself to throw up or because they had almost kissed? The silence pressed on him, and he hardly knew if he ought to take her hand or move away.
Their mutual discomfort felt like a third person in this tiny cell.
“We need a plan to escape,” he said abruptly and far too loudly. It was best to focus on getting away, and it was useless to wonder if Elizabeth might want to marry him if they survived.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. “We let them put us into the carriage?”
Part of him wanted her to get away now and take the slim chance that someone in this small village would help her, even though it was in the stranglehold of a smuggling gang. But if she refused to flee without him, what was the point? “Yes, and we need to decide when and how we escape from it.”
Even if they got the door open, jumping from a moving carriage was a certain way to break a leg, or worse.
Elizabeth shifted on the bed to look at him. “Where do you think they are taking us?”
“Markle said to near the coast,” he mused, “but if he intends for us to arrive there tonight, then I doubt we are going to the Channel.” After picturing a map of northern Kent in his head, he added, “Maybe an estuary on the Thames since they are smugglers. Gravesend, maybe.”
“How far is that?”
“Twenty miles, I think. They must change or bait the horses, especially since the roads are muddy this time of year and it will be a strain on them.” He met her eye for the first time since Markle interrupted them and felt a heat rise in his cheeks. Looking away he asked, “Have you any idea where they might stop?”
She gave a dry laugh. “I have never been anywhere, Darcy. You are more likely to guess such a thing, with all your travelling and what is fifty miles of good road.”
He gave her a half smile when she playfully nudged his shoulder. He was being teased, but it felt like there was a kindness behind it, that it came from a place of friendship rather than mockery. After considering it for a moment, at where thecrossroads and a few coaching inns he knew were, he said, “If I was in Shoreham, going northeast, then I would change them at Dartford, about fifteen miles from here.”
“Then we escape when we change the horses at Dartford.” Her countenance brightened. “Anyone in the stable yard could help us and stop Steamer and the others from apprehending us again.”
Doubt overtook him. “It is a larger town, not likely to be beholden to smugglers like a small village, but I do not think we can trust anyone to help us.”
She threw him a dark look. “Dartford will be safer than here. I thought we already decided?—”
He held up a hand to interrupt her. “I do agree, but I do not think it wise to call attention to ourselves.” Darcy rushed ahead in case she was inclined to argue. “I am unwilling to trust anyone along their smuggling route. But in a coaching inn, in a larger town, we can find someone to send a message to Hunsford, or hire a carriage ourselves, but using our names and admitting a smuggling gang wants us is reckless.”
“Very well.” Darcy blinked, and Elizabeth laughed. “You look surprised. Did you think I would argue for the sake of being contrary? I agree it is sensible to not admit to who we are.”
“Well, in the past you have enjoyed arguing with me for the sake of being contrary, and I did not know how far that pastime went.” She smiled, blushing a little, and it charmed him. He smiled back, but the moment faded as they remembered their situation. “Anyone might be a sympathiser or someone who could be bribed. We have a better chance in Dartford, but I cannot assume we will be safe enough to use our names or admit they kidnapped us.”
She sighed but nodded knowingly. Elizabeth turned her neck from side to side, as visibly as uncomfortable on the bed’s edgeas he was. He supposed it was still better than the floor. “When do you think they will move us?”
“Markle said tonight.” He pulled out his watch, and took a moment to wind it. “It is almost one. We shall have a long day, but it gives us time to plan. If it is in the middle of the night, it will be impossible for us to hire a carriage after we escape. Maybe the mail coach or the day’s final stage coach will come through, and we can take it wherever it is going.”
She scoffed. “Have you ever ridden a stage coach in your life?”
He gave her a sideways look. “Have you?” He would not believe it if she had.
“Oh yes, and I prefer to sit on the top if I can.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, you may jest, but if it means we can escape from this area of Kent, then I will ride on the top of the stage coach to wherever it is going, even if it is raining.”
