The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy

She stretched her arms over her head, a very appealing sight. “Ravenous. I suppose I have many days’ worth of food to make up.”

Darcy stepped out of the room to inquire about breakfast, and when he returned she regarded him shyly from under her lashes. “I am hungry for something else as well.”

Darcy’s heart skipped a beat, but she could not possibly mean what he thought. “Oh?”

“I am hungry for knowledge,” she said. “Will you tell me about my life?” She laughed self-consciously. “Although that does sound ridiculous!”

Suppressing his more inappropriate reactions, Darcy seated himself on the edge of the bed. “Not at all ridiculous, but Mr. Martin thinks it is best if I do not tell you everything. He thinks your memories should return naturally.”

Elizabeth made a sour face. He could just imagine the questions piling up inside such a naturally inquisitive person. “I can certainly answer the basic questions. Please ask,” he invited her.

“Where am I from? Who are my parents? Do I have brothers and sisters? How did we meet? What—?”

Chuckling, Darcy held up a hand to stan

ch the torrent of words. “I can only answer them one at a time, if you please.” She bounced with impatience, as eager as a young lady before her first ball.

He settled closer to her on the bed and took her hand. “Your family is from Hertfordshire. Your father owns an estate known as Longbourn.”

She frowned, screwing up her face. “An estate? Is it large?”

Why would such news distress her? “Of moderate size and prosperous, I believe.”

“Then…how did we meet?”

“We met at an assembly in a nearby town. I am not from Hertfordshire; I was visiting a friend.”

Her hands clutched at the edge of the covers. “An assembly? Did we dance?”

He glanced away as she unknowingly touched on a sore subject. “Not that evening, though we did upon a later occasion.” Perhaps she recalled something from their inauspicious first meeting that could cause her agitation. “Does this sound familiar?”

Her hands grasped the counterpane so tightly she was creating fine wrinkles. “No, not at all.”

Perhaps the past was simply too fraught for Elizabeth to learn of it with equanimity. “Maybe you should rest until breakfast arrives.”

She smirked at him. “I assure you that a quarter hour of sitting in bed has not fatigued me excessively. But I thank you for your concern.”

Darcy snorted. She had not forgotten how to be Elizabeth. “This subject seems to agitate you; perhaps we should discuss another.”

She gave him a level stare. “Did my parents approve of our match?”

Darcy hesitated. Embellishing his initial falsehood with yet more lies was so distasteful.

“They did not!” Her voice was harsh with anguish. “I see the truth in your face.”

Darcy gaped, at a loss of how to respond. He had every reason to believe the Bennets would support his desire to marry their daughter if he ever had occasion to ask them.

Elizabeth continued, wringing her hands. “They disapproved of the inequality in our stations, did they not?” How had she guessed about the disparities in their fortunes? “Did we elope?”

“Elope?” Darcy felt as if he had arrived halfway through a play. “Why would we elope?”

Elizabeth gestured to his clothing. “Well, you are obviously not from an estate. Are you a farmer? A laborer?” She swallowed thickly. “A servant?”

It took a moment to catch her meaning, but then Darcy could not stifle a laugh. Once the laughter had started, it was difficult to stop. He owed Elizabeth an explanation, but the idea that he was unacceptable because his station in life was too low… This provoked a new bout of laughter.

When he finally gained control of himself, he apologized. “These garments are but a disguise. My clothing is usually of a better quality, but it would be too conspicuous here.”

“Oh!” She sank back against the pillows in evident relief. “So what is your profession, then? A clergyman? A solicitor? Are you in the army?”