Page 34 of Not Without Me, Miss Elizabeth

"No amount of brushing will make you fit for company," Elizabeth observed, matter-of-fact, though something almost fond crept into her tone despite the words themselves, and he could not help a small grin at the remark, brief as it was.

"Miss Elizabeth, your foot." His grin faded as quickly as it had come. "I am ashamed to have forgotten how it pained you."

She gave a small, nervous laugh, waving off his concern with a hand that trembled only slightly. "You are quite forgiven, Mr. Darcy, particularly after rescuing us both from gunfire. I think a sore foot rather pales beside that."

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am." His voice had gone low and entirely serious. "You cannot know how deeply I regret that you have been made to suffer such an ordeal, any part of it, from the very first moment."

She could only manage, "Thank you." Her throat had tightened too much to permit anything further, and she dared not try, certain that the smallest additional word would dissolve into tears she had no wish for him to see just yet.

He led them on through the thicket until he judged they had passed well beyond the village, then guided the pony back toward the road. Bringing the animal beside a tree, he used it to spring back onto its back with the same easy competence he had shown all day, settling once more behind her. She felt the warmth of him at her back, solid and steady, as he clicked his tongue and urged the pony forward into a gallop, racing onward once more in hope of rescue.

***

After two hours more, the edge of a proper town came into view at last, large enough, he judged, to serve their purpose, enough traffic upon its outskirts already that two travel-worn riders would draw only passing curiosity, and nothing more. He rode into its outskirts and turned down the first sidestreet he came to before dismounting, his legs nearly as unsteady as hers after so long astride.

He said, with as much neutrality as he could muster, "You are riding astride. I think it best we keep to the back streets from here. I should not like for either of us to bring attention to ourselves"

She pinked slightly at the spectacle they must present. "I would rather walk." Elizabeth answered at once, the thought of being seen riding in so unbecoming a fashion far worse, to her mind, than any discomfort walking might cost her; a small, foolish vanity, perhaps, after everything else, but one she found she could not simply set aside.

"Are you certain?" he asked warily, his jaw setting into a hard, flat line.

She nodded, more firmly than she felt. "Yes, sir."

Darcy decided he must agree to it, and reached up to catch her at the waist as she leaned down, and she held his shoulders as he lowered her carefully to the ground, taking her whole weight without apparent effort. Her legs, unsteady beneath her after so many hours gripping the pony's flanks, would scarcely hold, and she clung to him a moment, mortified, to find her footing again.

She was still staring down at her own feet, willing them steady, when she felt his arms come gently about her, not lifting her this time, only holding. She looked up to find herself against his chest, scarcely able to credit that he should embrace her so, in an open side street, one hand still holding the pony's lead, careless of who might see, and yet she found she craved the comfort of it entirely, craved it more than she had craved anything in days. She wrapped her own arms about his neck and held on. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy… Thank you for saving me." The last sentence sounded more like a weep than words.

"I am only glad you are safe." His voice was rough, unsteady in a way she had never heard it. "Glad we are both safe. You were very brave, Elizabeth, braver than I had any right to ask of you."

Warm tears slid down her face before she could stop them, and she felt her throat close entirely. She knew a great deal remained to be done, and that they stood still exposed in an unfamiliar street, vulnerable in ways she could notfully reckon in this moment, but she held to him a moment longer regardless, feeling the steady, urgent beat of his heart beneath her cheek, before at last, reluctantly, releasing her hold.

He loosened his own grip in turn, and she saw, drawing back, that his eyes stood bright with unshed tears of his own, rimmed faintly red, his cheeks still flushed from the ride and from something else besides that he made no move to hide from her.

He is a good man,she thought, tenderness rising in her chest, warm and entirely unguarded.God bless him.

Darcy, for his part, had never before embraced anyone in public in the whole of his life, certainly no woman, and certainly not with such complete disregard for who might witness it, but seeing her so shaken, so entirely spent, so thoroughly undone by everything she had borne without complaint these past days, he had found himself simply unable to do otherwise. Propriety, in that moment, had seemed a very small and foolish thing indeed.

Sensing the moment had passed, though reluctant, if he were honest with himself, to let it go entirely, he offered her his arm, guiding their stolen pony along with the other hand. He was in search now of a coaching inn, where he might sell the animal and put the proceeds toward a room, a proper meal, and an express to his cousin, practical matters, all of them, and yet his mind kept circling back, unbidden, to the warmth of her still pressed against his side.

At length he stopped before a large white building fronting a substantial stable, its windows glowing warm with candlelight against the gathering dusk. "Follow me," he murmured close to her ear, his hand finding the small of her back to guide her, as though he could not quite bring himself to stop touching her now that he had begun.

CHAPTER 19

Mr. Darcy led the pony into the stable yard, Elizabeth following close behind, acutely conscious of how strange a picture the two of them must make, filthy, exhausted, she in a farmer's borrowed skirts and he scarcely better dressed. A stable boy came forward, and upon being asked whether the establishment dealt in horses, directed them to a small office adjoining the yard. Darcy asked Elizabeth to wait with the animal while he saw to the business, and she was glad enough of the excuse to simply stand still a moment, one hand resting on the pony's warm flank.

Ten minutes later he returned with a short, stout man in tow, who circled the pony once, looking it over with evident approval. "Fine beast, this. Eight pound, I'd say."

Darcy was not greatly pleased with the sum, plainly worth a good deal less than the animal's true value, but he agreed to it readily enough regardless, extending his hand. He had, she thought, watching him, rather more pressing concerns than a fair price just now. The man shook on it and counted out the payment from a well-worn purse.

The transaction complete, Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and they walked out toward the main street together, her hand settling into the crook of his elbow as though it belonged there. "We shall find an inn, and I will send an express directly to my cousin, and to your father."

"Do you think they are close behind us still?" She could not quite keep the anxious edge from her voice.

"I think it wise to remain on our guard, and to move quickly, whatever the truth of it." He did not slow his pace as he said it.

She nodded, conscious of how thoroughly disreputable they both must look, filthy and travel-worn, easily marked by anyone who cared to notice, and yet too weary, just then, to feel much shame over it. "The stable master mentioned an inn just around the corner. And, can you guess where we find ourselves?"

"Somewhere north, I should think," Elizabeth said.