The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth

“I was grateful they did not challenge me further,” Elizabeth admitted, wrapping her arms around herself. “I have no idea how to fire a pistol. They would have laughed to see me attempt it.”

“You were very convincing.” He glanced over at her. Although her expression was resolute, he could see that she was trembling all over. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and embrace her until the shaking subsided. He wanted to pull down her hair, bury his face in it and kiss her neck….I must quit this line of thought before it spins out of control. She trusts me to be a gentleman! She had no idea how much her simple statement of trust back in the inn had affected him. In that instant he had resolved he would live up to her trust in him. Given her recent fright, she did not need to fend off a too ardent – and perhaps unwelcome – admirer. Still, he watched her clasp her gloved hands shakily together and wished he could help her quell her nerves.

Daringly, he held the soft leather reins in one hand while reaching over and enclosing one of her hands in his. She stiffened perceptibly and he thought she would draw her hand away. Then she relaxed a little and smiled, but she did not turn in his direction or meet his eyes. “Mr. Darcy, I believe you are trying to take advantage of my discomposure to flirt with me!”

The pert tone in her voice told him she was not truly offended. “Am I not permitted to provide you with one shred of comfort?” He tried to match her light tone.

“Comfort? I do not believe etiquette books for young women cover the topic of comfort!” She gave a little laugh he found completely endearing.

“A serious deficiency.” Darcy said solemnly.

“Indeed, I believe I will write to the author of my mother’s favorite book and suggest that he discuss appropriate behavior when escaping an angry mob in France with an unmarried gentleman. That subject was sorely neglected in the last edition!” She smiled at him mischievously.

Now he laughed aloud and again fought an almost irresistible impulse to take her into his arms. Her ability to notice the absurd and humorous in any circumstance delighted him. At the same time, he attempted to remind himself that even though she was accepting a modicum of comfort, it did not mean that her opinion of him had changed. Regretfully, he released her hand, not wishing her to believe he was taking advantage of their circumstances.

Silence stretched between them as the horses continued at a sedate trot. Although Elizabeth had made light of the situation, he could not help but dwell on the impropriety: unrelated single men and women should never travel together. If word of this journey reached England, everyone would assume he had compromised her and her father would demand that Darcy marry her. That would not be such a bad fate as far as Darcy was concerned. But, no, he did not desire her consent under those circumstances. He could not imagine her reaction to be coerced in such a way, but it would not be good.

What was her true reaction to traveling with him? She had joked about it, but the humor could mask discomfort. Perhaps she had been uncomfortable when he took her hand. He cleared his throat. “I…apologize for the impropriety….I wish we could have brought Mrs. Radnor’s maid for your comfort.”

She gazed steadily at her hands clasped in front of her. “Please do not apologize again for circumstances beyond your control. I know you

would never take advantage.”

She would not be so sanguine if she knew some of the fantasies I have had about her, Darcy thought. Nevertheless he was touched that she voiced her trust of him so forthrightly and decisively. Dare I hope her opinion of me is improving? Perhaps I now rank above a shopkeeper! He smiled a little at the thought.

“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth glanced at him questioningly.

“I had viewed our time in Paris as an opportunity to demonstrate my better nature,” he explained. “Instead I have displayed a talent for getting you alone.”

This brought no laughter from her, instead she seemed pensive. “On the contrary, I believe you have shown a loyalty and resourcefulness that are quite admirable. I could never have escaped Paris on my own.” Her compliments spread warmth throughout his body.

He smiled at her. “I should denigrate myself more often just for the pleasure of hearing you sing my praises. Perhaps I should describe myself as unpleasant and ugly?”

She laughed aloud at this until she was gasping for breath. “And to think I once believed you had no sense of humor!” Her opinion of me is improving, he thought happily. Hope surged through him.

“I am afraid you have not always seen me at my best,” he confessed, gazing steadily at the road.

He sensed her eyes were on his face. “I am beginning to understand that.” He turned slightly to gaze into her face. The intimacy of her tone made him shiver a little and her fine blue eyes were so captivating he thought he could never tear his away. Suddenly he wished that they were in a drawing room somewhere and not on a carriage seat where he could not gaze on her easily or take her in his arms. Just as well I do not have the chance to do something foolish and impulsive. For a moment he considered pulling the curricle to the side of the road so they could talk, but he knew they could not afford to waste time. He thought of the irony. I have longed for a chance to get Elizabeth alone and uninterrupted, but not under circumstances such as these.

Several hours later, silence had fallen over the travelers. The sky was gray and overcast, suiting Elizabeth’s mood. Although the countryside was pretty enough, it was unvarying – mostly farmland – and she was weary of it. She watched Darcy’s large capable hands handle the reins and wished she could decipher the puzzle this man represented. Although his letter had compelled her to modify her worst opinions about him, she had still considered him proud and difficult. After all, his harsh words about her family had been heartfelt, if tactless – although she was forced to admit he had not been entirely wrong either.

When she had encountered him at the ball in Paris, he had been amiable, but still proud and reserved. Now, however, she was seeing a very different side of him. When not surrounded by other people, he was more quick-witted and relaxed. She was conscious not only of the honor of his attention, but also the depth of caring he exhibited for her. Although she liked to think of herself as independent and capable, she recognized that she had needed his help to escape Paris, and she found his devotion to her protection – even to the point of jeopardizing his life – somewhat thrilling. It filled her with warmth to think that he valued her that highly.

Her thoughts about him were quite different from what they had been when she had arrived in France. She no longer experienced anger or antipathy – or even wounded pride. In their place she felt admiration and affection, but was there more in her heart? She had never been in love. How did it feel?

Darcy’s hand brushed against her arm as he shifted on the hard wooden bench and again she felt that familiar tingle of electricity, a physical rush of energy that she had experienced with no other man. What did it mean? All of these questions were causing a headache; she rubbed her forehead with her hand.

She studied Darcy’s profile as he gazed intently at the road ahead. What did Darcy experience when their hands touched? Did he sense the same electricity? A little shiver passed through her. His proximity and sheer masculinity were a little intimidating, but also somewhat exciting. What is happening to me? I never used to have such thoughts!

When he had proposed at Hunsford, she had not believed that he truly loved her, rather he had seemed infatuated with a concept of how he wished she would be – if she were separated from her family. Recently, however, his constant devotion and sensitivity to her comfort had convinced her that his love for her was genuine. And his conversation had convinced her that he understood her far better than she had given him credit for.

She must take his affection seriously, but she had been more comfortable when it could be easily dismissed. What had she given him in exchange for his devotion? He had risked his life and reputation for a woman who had refused his proposal in an angry and insulting manner. Had Elizabeth even granted him hope that her opinion might change? Or shown him that it had already altered somewhat? Did he believe he was risking his life for a woman who would still angrily refuse him? She contemplated whether there was some way to demonstrate how her thoughts had changed.

Slowly and deliberately Elizabeth put her hand on the bench between her and Darcy. He did not seem to notice at once and it rested there a moment, but she discerned a slight stiffening in his posture. Then he unhurriedly placed his hand on top of hers. Elizabeth blushed and smiled, but did not turn toward him, unready for that step. Darcy had a small smile on his face as well, and – when she did not pull her hand away – he consolidated his hold by further intertwining her fingers with his. Elizabeth found the small gesture both thrilling and comforting.

Later in the afternoon their conversation turned to books, discovering that they shared many common interests in poetry, history, and the plays of Shakespeare. When they discussed contemporary novels, Darcy had some strong opinions about their value and they were not complimentary. While Elizabeth allowed that many novels were lurid or overly sentimental, she maintained that many were well worth reading. Darcy took the opposing view, apparently without having read many of the books in question.

When she discovered the potential conflict, Elizabeth said amiably, “Well, it appears we cannot agree on this point. Have you read the latest volume of Wordsworth?” Darcy was silent for so long Elizabeth feared she had offended him somehow. “Mr. Darcy?”