Page 39 of The Difference of a Darcy
“If there is a stop in London…” he began.
“…we could see my aunt and uncle.”
He paused, his train of thought lost with her interruption. “I beg your pardon?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner—my mother’s brother and his wife. They would welcome us, I am sure.”
“Even on the day after Christmas?”
“Oh!” Elizabeth’s expression told him she had entirely forgotten about the holiday as well. “They may not be there, then. Usually they come to Longbourn. Although, if they were there for my—” she grimaced “—wedding, then they may be back in London already. My uncle cannot leave his business for long, and my young cousins do not enjoy travel from their home.”
“Ah, yes, well… I suppose we could stop by and see. I had thought to go to Darcy House. My father kept a small safe in the study, hidden under a floorboard. I was the only one who knew of it.” He looked at her seriously. “If it has not been emptied, it might give us enough to last as long as we need.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “It is a risk.”
“I can be discreet.”
“But what if someone sees you? What if they… they call the constable?” Her expression twisted with anxiety.
Darcy felt a pang at that. That she would worry for him—even now, after everything he had done—softened something in his chest. “We shall stop at the Gardiners’ first,” he said. “If they remember you, they may let us stay. Then I will go to Darcy House after dark.”
She hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Very well.”
His lips twitched. “Besides… it would be rather difficult to explain howMr. and Mrs. Smithcame to possess the key to a townhouse in Mayfair.”
Elizabeth smirked. “I supposeMrs. Smithwill have to work on her husband’s humility.”
He chuckled under his breath. “A lost cause, I fear.”
They turned and returned to the inn, handing over their coins and receiving two slips of paper in exchange. Then, bundled and breathless, they boarded the waiting coach.
Darcy let Elizabeth ascend first, then followed, ducking low beneath the curved roof. Inside, the cabin was dim and close. Two passengers already sat in the opposite corner: an older woman with a lace cap and a narrow-eyed boy with a satchel on his knees.
Darcy sat beside Elizabeth, his shoulder brushing hers, and for the first time since waking, he felt a thread of something steady.
A direction. A plan.
London first. Then Longbourn. Then—whatever else this strange new world required.
He glanced sideways at Elizabeth.
She was staring out the frosted window, her lips slightly parted, her breath fogging the glass. One hand was braced on the seat beside her.
She looked brave. Determined. And lovely.
He turned his face toward the window, lest he say something foolish.
The coach jolted into motion.
∞∞∞
By the time the hackney drew to a stop before GracechurchStreet, Elizabeth’s heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she was certain Darcy could hear it.
The familiar row of tidy brick homes, the polished knocker on the painted green door—everything looked just as it should. And yet… nothing felt right.
Darcy stepped out first and turned, offering his hand to help her down. His gloved fingers closed gently over hers, steadying her as her boots met the cobblestones. He was quiet, but she saw his eyes flick over the modest yet well-kept houses, taking in the neat curtains, the swept steps, the faint scent of roasting chestnuts from somewhere down the lane.
She did not miss the slight lift of his brows.
