Page 22 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“Familiar and enchanted,” Elizabeth confirmed. “The Lady of the Lakeremains a favourite, though Waverley captivated me equally.”
Their literary discussion continued as the carriage rolled through Hertfordshire and into Bedfordshire, pausing only when they stopped to change horses.
The afternoon waned into evening, and Darcy consulted his pocket watch. “We shall reach the Crown Inn at St Albans shortly.”
Elizabeth nodded, suddenly conscious that they would soon face the delicate matter of the night’s accommodations.
Night had fallen by the time they reached the inn, a substantial building with warm light spilling from its windows. A groom ran to attend the horses as Darcy descended from the carriage, then turned to assist Elizabeth. His hand was warm and steady as he helped her to the ground and when he let go, she lamented the separation before reminding herself of their arrangement.
Inside, the inn’s common room bustled with activity. There were travellers dining, locals drinking ale, and a serving girl weaving between tables with plates of food. The innkeeper approached, he was a broad man with an appraising eye.
“Good evening, sir, madam. How may I assist you?”
“My wife and I require lodging for the night,” Darcy said, his voice betraying no hint that the words were anything but truth. “Two adjoining rooms, if available.”
“Adjoining rooms, sir? We have one chamber available—our finest. Most travellers arrive earlier in the day.”
Darcy frowned slightly. “Nothing else?”
“I fear not, sir. Unless you would prefer the common sleeping room…”
“That will not be necessary,” Darcy replied. “We shall take the chamber. Please have hot water sent up, and a light supper.”
“Very good, Mr?”
“Darcy. And Mrs Darcy.”
Heat raced up her entire body, though she maintained a composed expression.
“This way, if you please,” the innkeeper said, leading them upstairs.
The chamber proved larger than Elizabeth had anticipated, with a large bed dominating one wall, a small sitting area with two chairs before the hearth, and a dressing screen in one corner.
“Will this suit, sir?” the innkeeper asked.
“It will serve,” Darcy replied. “When may we expect supper?”
“Within half an hour, sir. I shall send up the hot water directly.”
When the door closed behind the innkeeper, Elizabeth and Darcy stood in awkward silence, neither meeting the other’s gaze.
“I shall arrange a pallet before the fire,” Darcy said at last. “You may take the bed.”
“Mr Darcy, I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor when you have already done so much—”
“Miss Bennet,” he interrupted gently, “I insist. It would be unconscionable to do otherwise.”
The hot water arrived to interrupt their conversation, and Mr Darcy left her to tend to her washing. Alone, she approached the basin and splashed warm water on her face, washing away the dust of travel. She smoothed her hair as best she could without proper toiletries, and straightened her gown, now hopelessly creased from the hours in the carriage.
Once she had changed into the only other gown she brought with her—aside from the wedding gown which she had packed for reasons she did not quite understand, Mr Darcy returned. Supper followed thereafter and then it was time to rest.
Darcy moved efficiently, taking blankets from the bed and arranging them before the hearth to form a makeshift pallet. He removed only his coat and boots, remaining otherwise fully clothed.
“I shall extinguish the candles when you are settled,” he said, turning his back to allow her privacy.
“I am settled,” she announced.
Darcy turned and moved about the room, extinguishing candles until only the glow from the hearth remained. He lay down upon his pallet, turning away from the bed.
