Page 41 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
“You say that as if you found us in the middle of something compromising,” she retorted.
“Perhaps not.”
Charlotte turned to give Elizabeth her full attention. There was an unsettling pity in her eyes.
“But, Eliza, I must caution you to not catch feelings for the man. However extraordinary the circumstances might be, it may not turn out as you wish.”
Elizabeth bit her lip.
“Besides, it would not be prudent even if Mr. Darcy was not on his deathbed,” Charlotte added.
Silence descended between them once more.
Elizabeth stared out of the window at the distant outline of dark trees. The cart continued to rattle along the road. Its wheels seemed to dip into every pothole! Her heart ached.
“Why not?” she asked after a while.
Her voice was uncharacteristically small.
“Hmm?” Charlotte looked at her. And then her expression settled into one of gentle kindness.
Elizabeth did not like it one bit… even in the shadowy gloom of the lantern lights swinging outside the cart.
“Because, unlike Mrs. Collins and her practicality,” Charlotte said, taking her hand. “You, my dear Eliza, deserve more than an attachment born from extraordinary circumstances.”
Tears prickled in Elizabeth’s eyes.
“You would not be happy without true love.”
Chapter 27:
Liminal Spaces
In some time less than three hours, their cart reached a small hamlet that was several villages inland from the main highway to London.
Elizabeth gaped as they passed a minuscule square with a single inn and one general store, plunked right next to a rather miserable looking smithy.
“The accident occurred near Dunhill bridge, did it not?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said.
They had passed it sometime ago.
Elizabeth wondered how many more villages they might pass before Colonel Fitzwilliam brought their cart to a halt.
And why so far inland?
Would it not have been more advisable to keep the injured closer to the highway?
But what did she know of what Mr. Darcy’s family had on their mind. Elizabeth rested her head against the window.
Perhaps she was overestimating the distance.
Perhaps it only seemed so because their cart was crawling forward at a pace that Lydia and Kitty might outstrip on foot.
Perhaps she could–
“Ho boy!”
