Page 55 of The Difference of a Darcy
His eyes flicked to her lips, which parted instinctively. She did not move.
He bent slightly, as if—
“Hoy there!”
The voice startled them both. Elizabeth jumped and turned.
Thomas, the gardener, stood a few paces off beneath his own caped cloak, holding a sack of potatoes and watching them with mild interest. His brows lifted high on his head, but he said nothing.
Elizabeth coughed, stepping hastily back from Darcy’s embrace.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” Thomas asked.
“We… were caught in the rain,” she said, unnecessarily. “We—we are here to call on the Bennets.”
He grunted and pointed them toward the front. “Best use the main door. Mrs. Hill will see you in.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said with his usual gravity, though his ears were visibly pink.
They followed the path around to the front door, Elizabeth’s heart thudding far too quickly for the chill. She tried to smooth her skirts and pin her bonnet more securely, but it was a losingbattle. She looked like a drowned cat, and their wet boots squelched with ever step.
Darcy rapped smartly on the door. Within a moment, the bolts turned and the door cracked open to reveal Mrs. Hill, the woman who functioned as both housekeeper and lady’s maid. She looked them both up and down with a faint pursing of her lips.
“I… apologize for the intrusion,” Elizabeth began with as much poise as she could muster. “We are friends of the new Mrs. Collins, traveling north. She suggested we might pay our respects at Longbourn if our journey allowed.”
The housekeeper’s face softened at once. “Oh, bless you. Of course, of course. You poor things, caught in that mess.” She stepped aside and ushered them in. “You’ll want towels and the fire, no doubt. I’ll see to it. Come in, come in.”
Elizabeth crossed the threshold with a strange twisting in her chest, blinking at the familiar surroundings—so unchanged, and yet it felt as if years had passed since she last crossed the threshold.
She was home—and yet not home.
∞∞∞
Darcy’s shoulder brushed Elizabeth’s as he stepped in behind her, somehow giving him strength. From down the hall, he heard footsteps and the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Bennet approaching.
“Oh! Oh, my dear heavens!”
Darcy turned just in time to see the woman sweep into the entryway, all flustered affection and fluttering hands. Mrs. Bennet stopped short at the sight of them, her eyes widening at their soaked garments and dripping hair.
“You poor souls! You are drenched! Hill, where are the towels? Fetch them at once! Come—come in, come in—don’t stand there puddling on the floor!”
The years melted away in an instant. Darcy felt as though he was a child again, being fussed over after falling in the stream next to the dairy at Pemberley. But this was not his mother, and he was receiving warmth not as a child, but as a guest.
Still, the embrace of Mrs. Bennet’s concern was oddly comforting, even in its unfamiliarity.
“We are very sorry to trouble you, madam,” Elizabeth said, curtsying. “I am—my name is Beth Smith, and this is my husband, Mr. William Smith. We are new friends of your daughter, Elizabeth. Mrs. Collins told us we must call if our travels brought us through Hertfordshire.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face transformed from fussing to beaming. “Well! How very thoughtful of her. Oh, she is quite the mistress now, our Lizzy—Mrs. Collins, I mean,” she added with a fond laugh. “I always said she would do well in marriage. So clever! Such a sensible girl.”
Darcy had prepared himself for shrill nerves and empty flattery, not a flurry of towels and genuine welcome. He gave a polite bow in acknowledgment of the introduction.
Mrs. Bennet took in his height, his broad shoulders, and his noble bearing with increasing delight. He felt his cheeks begin to warm slightly at her frank appraisal.
“Well, I must say, you are a fine-looking pair! Quite fine, indeed.” She did not wait for a response. “You must come sit by the fire—Hill, the parlor, and for mercy’s sake, the hearth! Jane! Jane, where are you? Come help me see to our guests!”
“I assure you, madam,” he said, “we do not mean to disturb your household, especially the day after Boxing Day.” He looked around at the housekeeper, who was efficiently directing a maid to stoke up the fire.
“Oh, nonsense!” Mrs. Bennet flapped a hand. “No trouble at all. As my brother did not come for Christmas this year, we gave the servants yesterday off instead of today. And a good thing, too! My nerves cannot bear to see good people soaked through! You must dry yourselves and take something hot. Hill, tea, if you please, and perhaps that broth Cook had left over.”
