Page 64 of New World Tea Company
“No, but what are your druthers? We arrive tomorrow, or we’re ass over tea kettle in a ditch somewhere between London and Maidstone?”
The blacksmith was not pleased and refused to refund any passenger’s money. But when the noon hour arrived, he provided a portion of beer, bread, and broken meat for a meal for the eight passengers, the coachman, and the boy who rode atop with him. Finally, a man arrived with a replacement team of horses that the coachman put into the harness to pull the stagecoach. It was just after the one of the clock when the coach finally left to carry passengers across southern England.
The afternoon passed quickly with the stagecoach travelling east of London. Elizabeth sat with the other travellers in the coach, squeezed into the seats, and while the conversation was stilted and spare, the young woman felt relatively safe in the coach. There was a great deal of traffic on the roadthat afternoon, with carts and wagons slowing the stagecoach’s progress.
Late in the afternoon, the sky filled with dark clouds, and heavy rain began to fall. The stagecoach entered a large town–one of the other passengers declared the place to be Gravesend, an important disembarking point for passengers to board ships on the Thames. When the coach stopped at a large tavern, the driver disappeared inside while the boy stood with the horses in the rain. The driver appeared at the coach’s door and shouted, “Out! Everyone out! We’re stopping here for the night!”
Elizabeth and her companions hurried inside with the other passengers. The elderly woman travelling in the coach was slower to make it inside, and once they were inside the door, Elizabeth insisted the wet figure be allowed a place at the fire to warm and dry herself. The tavernkeeper was a stern man who agreed to provide food and shelter for the passengers after being paid a few coins. The two females would share a single bed in a secure chamber while the four male passengers would sleep on the tables in the common room.
The inside of the tavern was dark with three lanterns and the fires on two separate hearths gave some light. The rain continued with strong winds blowing, and whenever the door opened, a cold air filled the tavern. Elizabeth kept her cape closed around her neck. A few more wet travellers appeared seeking shelter, and the tavernkeeper sold space in the hay loft above the stables before full night settled on the town. Once the elderly lady was relatively dry, Elizabeth led her to a table away from the fire to allow other wet persons to move close to the fire.
Then Elizabeth’s attention was captured by one figure who seemed to direct others easily. The man gave up his place near the other fire to a mother with a fretful baby. Then a second manappeared with a large bag and insisted the first man shed his wet coat, which was replaced with a dry one from the bag.
In the flickering firelight, Elizabeth Bennet recognised Fitzwilliam Darcy.
~~~
Elizabeth was aware of the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears and was glad the blush on her cheeks was hidden by the shadows in the room. Mr Darcy left Hertfordshire at Christmas, and she tried to forget about him, but his face often appeared in her dreams and memories of how the touch of his hand ignited a fire.
In the months since he had departed, Charles did not mention the arrival of any letters and Jane had confessed the man been invited to their wedding but declined as the weather made it impossible to attend in middle of the winter. There had been nothing else said about letters or visits.
Then tonight, the handsome man suddenly appeared in the common room of the tavern in Gravesend where she was sheltering for the night. Her stare must have been long enough for the man to feel it; despite the shadows, he looked up and caught her eye. A flicker of recognition in his eyes flared into a brief smile before he looked away.
The common room was noisy with conversation and complaints of being cold and wet, but Elizabeth heard none of it. She forced herself not to stare and hid the storm of emotions in her heart that matched the wind and rain outside. After eating his meal and finishing his ale, Mr Darcy stood and approached their table with his valet close behind.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I would never imagine finding you in the Bull’s Horn on a Tuesday night.”
“Good evening to you too, Mr Darcy. I should never think to find you here when the storm drove us inside this tavern.”
“May I ask your purpose in travelling in April?” he inquired.
Smiling, Elizabeth replied, “I travel to Hunsford to visit Charlotte Collins. My visit is for a month, but my day has been wearisome. First, the stagecoach was delayed in London, and then the storm shortened the length of time on the road. A single day of travel stretched out to be two days.”
“It is a terrible storm, and I believe your coachman made the correct decision. But tell me, who is this friend, Charlotte Collins?”
“You met her before her marriage. She is–she was–Charlotte Lucas. She married my father’s cousin, Mr William Collins,” Elizabeth rushed to share the information. As was his usual practice, Fitzwilliam Darcy kept his opinion of Mr Collins to himself.
Last autumn, he had not explained his distrust of George Wickham to anyone in Meryton. Before he left the neighbourhood just before Christmas, Darcy convinced Charles Bingley to cease efforts to educate the gentlemen in the Meryton as to the impossible fortunes George promised. Bingley’s efforts to cast doubt on Wickham’s claims made him unpopular with his neighbours, and Darcy urged a more complacent approach to deal with the enthusiasm for the New World Tea Company.
“Fortune and fate brought us both to Gravesend tonight, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said. Again, there was a flash of a smile, and he continued, “I am glad to see you again.”
She explained the problems with one of the teams of horses that delayed their morning departure from London and added, “And the sudden storm drove us inside the…this inn.”
When Elizabeth paused because she did not know the tavern’s name, Darcy replied, “The Bull’s Horn. My valet and I are also sheltering here tonight.”
The powerful man glanced at Elizabeth’s elderly companion and asked, “Do you have a room for the night?”
“We have a room with a bed,” the young woman replied.
“A luxury for the two of you that is much better than here in the common room.”
“Do you have a room for the night, Mr Darcy?” she inquired.
“No. The tavern is filled to the rafters. Tonight, my man and I shall sleep in the hayloft,” he replied before glancing about the common room. “And we shall sleep more soundly than the fellows here on the tables and seated in chairs.”
“Might I inquire where you are travelling, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, emboldened by the length of the conversation.
“I am bound for London to resolve a financial matter. Then I shall return to Rosings to continue my annual visit reviewing the accounts with the steward of my cousin’s estate.”
