Page 43 of Not Without Me, Miss Elizabeth

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I ought to have taken the settee last night, and given you the bed." Guilt crept into her voice as she said it, genuine and a little stubborn.

"I would never have permitted it, Elizabeth." His tone left no room for argument, though it was gently given. "You needed the rest, and I am only glad you felt comfortable enough to take it. You look the better for it."

"Thank you, sir." She could not entirely suppress a small, pleased smile at the observation. "You, on the other hand, look rather as though you spent the night wrestling a bear, and lost."

He laughed at that, a real laugh, still rough with sleep. "A fair assessment. I begin to think that settee was built for a rather smaller man than myself."

She raised her eyebrows at him, as was her way, a familiar spark of mischief lighting her tired face. "Perhaps we ought to petition the innkeeper for a better one, once we've the leisure to complain of such trifles."

"I shall add it to the list, directly after 'escaped kidnappers' and 'sent word to my cousin.'" He offered her a small, wry smile. "Though I confess, sore back and all, I would not have traded last night's company for the finest bed in England."

She felt her own cheeks warm at that, and turned the subject before she could think of a proper reply. "Now, are you ready to break your fast?"

He set his hands upon his knees, bracing to rise from the settee, his back protesting the movement before he was even fully upright. "I believe I am, yes. I shall send for something directly." He rose, still favouring the shoulder he had slept upon, and crossed toward the door. "Eggs, I think, and whatever bread they can spare. I find myself entirely unable to face another meal of cold pie, however grateful I remain for it."

Elizabeth laughed. "You will hear no complaint from me on that score, sir."

But before he could reach the door, a sharp, urgent knock sounded, three raps in quick succession.

"Darcy? Darcy! Are you within?"

Elizabeth froze entirely, every drop of warmth draining from her at once, certain for one dreadful, suspended moment that Wickham's men had found them after all, her stomach lurching violently. She had half risen from the bed, some instinct already urging her toward the far corner of the room, when Mr. Darcy threw the door open without the smallest hesitation.

"Fitzwilliam?" Darcy stated, almost dumbfounded.

A deep, masculine voice cried in reply, "By Jove, Darcy!"

And, with that, a gentleman in military uniform, travel-stained and windblown, his boots caked to the ankle in road dust pushed open the door, and fell into a fierce embrace with Darcy, the two of them nearly staggering with the force of it.

"Darcy!” The man cried out again, “You absolute bastard!" He swore in delight, before issuing a laugh that sounded like it had cracked somewhere inthe middle, equal parts fury and relief. "I have not stopped riding since your express reached me, changed horses four times, and would have changed a fifth had the last innkeeper not sworn on his mother's grave there wasn't a sound animal left in his stable."

"Come in, come in!" Darcy's voice cracked slightly with the sheer relief of it, all thought of breakfast and propriety entirely forgotten, drawing his cousin fully into the room by the arm as though he could not quite bring himself to let go of him yet.

"Steady on, man, you'll have my arm off." The Colonel laughed, breathless still, looking his cousin over with open, searching relief of his own, as though needing to confirm with his own eyes that Darcy stood whole before him. "You look a fright, Darcy! Fortunately, you don't smell quite so dreadful as that state of you would suggest, small mercies, I suppose." He clasped Darcy's shoulder once more, harder this time. "But you're alive, and in one piece, and that is a very great deal more than I dared hope for, these past five days."

Darcy ushered him inside, entirely forgetting, for the moment, that Elizabeth had only just woken and remained still in bed. She sat up at once at the sight of the newcomer, doing her best to appear rather less guilty than she felt at being discovered in a room with a man not her husband.

The Colonel made straight for the settee and sprawled across it without ceremony, claiming it entirely for himself. "Darcy, I am utterly spent; I have never ridden so hard nor so long in my life. Where is that blackguard Wickham? I shall finish the business myself and put a bullet through him today, as I ought to have done years ago!"

"I knew I could depend upon you, Fitzwilliam. Thank heaven you came so quickly. We have been nearly out of our wits, watching for Wickham before your arrival. I have seen no sign of him myself, and cannot say where he might be."

The Colonel shook his head. "I've six men not far behind me; they should arrive within a few hours. I'll send four out to scout the area, and keep the rest with us for the journey home."

His eye caught a movement across the room, and he came to his feet at once, all his earlier ease vanishing in an instant of genuine mortification. "Good heavens, madam! Forgive me, I had not seen you there." The Colonel returned his stare to Darcy, his eyes wide with disbelief to see a woman in his cousins’ bedchamber.

Elizabeth coloured deeply, attempting to reach her shoes without drawing further notice, though it was already too late, and she felt every inch of her rumpled, sleep-worn appearance under the Colonel's startled gaze. She crossed to them in her stockinged feet before offering him a proper curtsy, doing her best to summon what composure she could manage under the circumstances. "Good day to you, sir. I apologise for my rather unexpected presence."

"Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. Come, allow me to make the introduction properly." Darcy beckoned her forward, something protective creeping into his manner despite the ordinary domesticity of the moment. She slipped her feet into her shoes and came to his side, and he laid a hand briefly at her shoulder as she turned to face his cousin, a small, steadying gesture that did not go unnoticed by either of them.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Fitz, my betrothed, Miss Elizabeth."

The Colonel, bound by good manners, offered a solicitous bow, hardly able to fathom the news his altogether serious and grave cousin had just delivered. "Madam, the pleasure is entirely mine." He offered another polite bow, though his eyes, quick and assessing beneath the courtesy, moved between the two of them with evident interest. "I confess myself delighted to see this old bag of bones has finally secured himself so lovely a lady." He added, in a stage whisper that carried rather further than any genuine confidence would have, "We had all begun to despair of him, Miss Bennet, you have relieved the whole family, I promise you."

Elizabeth laughed at his jest despite her lingering embarrassment, and Darcy fixed his cousin with a stern look entirely undermined by the faint colour still in his own cheeks. "Fitzwilliam."

"Now, now, Darcy." The Colonel raised his hands in mock surrender. "I say nothing to your intended that I have not said to your own face a dozen times over. You are a boorish old man, and a lively young lady at your side will do you a world of good." He gave Elizabeth a wink, and she found herself warming at once to his easy, teasing manner.

Darcy had been right, she thought, his cousin was all ease and good humour, moving with remarkable fluency from battle-hardened soldier to charming gentleman within the space of a single conversation. The three of them talked on together, the Colonel drawing her out with careful, tactful questions about her family and her home, plainly relieved to learn she came, however modestly, from the gentry, and pleased besides to find her possessed of a ready wit.