We swam for some time, in the dark, then we grew tired and treaded water and began to discuss the benefits of simply drowning.
“We shall both wake up in Kent,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Well, can we be sure of that?” I said. “You have only died once, is that not correct?”
“Yes, true,” he said, and we redoubled our efforts to swim for shore.
We managed it, but we were in Fecamp, France. Seeing as the boat had gotten us much closer to the French shore, it hadonly made sense to swim here. Also, we were entirely destroyed, very tired, both of us, and we had lost all our money when we dropped into the ocean there. We found somewhere to rest for that day, but it turned out to be somewhere outdoors, hidden away in some alleyway like street urchins.
Luckily, however, we had perfected our thieving skills.
So, we were able to steal food and money from the market that afternoon, and then we fled from the city by way of the road. When we had left the crush of it behind, we scampered off the road into a field there in the French countryside and we sat together around a fire that we made and considered what we might do to go from here.
“You wished to travel,” said Mr. Darcy. “You wished to have an adventure.”
“So, I did,” I agreed. “I suppose I’ve gotten my wish.”
“I suspect you hoped it would be more comfortable,” he said.
I laughed. “Perhaps, yes.”
But we had made it out of England and onto the continent, and I was keen to explore.
The following day, we traveled along the road until we found an estate. Then, we waited until the cover of darkness to steal the carriage from their stables. We galloped off, sitting together outside the carriage, driving it together as we had done on our way back from Tiewater, and I threw my head back and my arms out (Mr. Darcy had the reins) and laughed into the night air, because we were free and we were traveling and I felt alive in a way I’d never quite felt.
And then we discovered that—when midnight came—carriages functioned much like boats.
There we were, driving along through the darkness, bouncing there on the road.
And then.
We were on the ground, and the carriage was gone, and the horses were gone.
We both tumbled about, rolling over, bumped and bruised, crying out. Then, we helped each other up. He began to examine me all over.
“Are you all right, Lizzy?” he said, concerned.
“This isn’t what happened with Tiewater!” I said, annoyed.
“Well, actually,” he said, “we took that carriage after the reset.”
He was right.
Vehicles, as it turned out, were too large to stick with us through the reset. We could keep small things—teacups and cookfires, blankets and clothing, coin and food. We could keep horses. But there was a limit to what would stay with us through a reset.
Undeterred, however, we simply adjusted our strategies. We would steal carriages after midnight, drive them through the night and morning, and then make camp when it grew dark and sleep through the reset, waking to steal another carriage.
In this way, we went deep into the south of France.
We ate in taverns and visited small village gatherings. We danced to the lively tunes of fiddles and woke in the morning to traipse our way further on. I got better at speaking French, for I had only ever known a bit of French to begin with. Mr. Darcy was happy to oblige me, practicing as we rode together on stolen carriages through our days. Sometimes, we booked passage in paid coaches, and then we would sit together in relative comfort and everyone thought we were married.
There was more kissing.
A great deal more kissing.
Often, we slept outside together, around a fire that we would make up together before we drifted off to sleep. Often, we slept close for body heat, and he would lie with his body wrappedaround mine, his front to my back, like we were spoons in a drawer. Often, before we got comfortable for sleeping, there was a good bit of kissing beforehand. Sometimes, we kissed with his body on top of mine and sometimes we kissed while I straddled him and pressed my chest into his.
The kissing was positively scandalous, and I knew it.
