Mrs. Hobarthad made her identity known. How dare she speak as though it was mere chance? “All the more reason for you to cease.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes flickered briefly to hers. For one small, bewildering instant, she glimpsed not contempt there, but something like regret. Then it was gone, shuttered behind the same implacable reserve he had displayed the night before.
“Your arrangements are of no concern to me,” he said to Mrs. Hobart. “My duty is to my own family. I am bound for London. I intend to departimmediately, with my own coach, my own horses, and my own men. I shall not be diverted from that purpose.”
A murmur ran through the audience in the yard. There would be tales of this scene at every posting house between here and the capital. She drew a breath and tried to steady herself against the sensation that everything was slipping out from under her.
“Weshallhave the carriage,” Mrs. Hobart insisted. “For we must go north to Stamford and find Sir Reginald where we were always meant to meet him. If Mr. Darcy must travel with us and then return to London afterward, so be it.”
Elizabeth turned to look at Mrs. Hobart, astonished that a woman who was so particular about the princess’s dignity would so publicly refuse to obey the princess’s command.
Anders looked from Mrs. Hobart to the churned, frozen ruts that led out of the yard.
“The north road is not open, ma’am,” he said. “Everyone has gone south. If you make the attempt and the carriage fails between here and the next inn, you and Miss Bennet will be stuck in a snowdrift while we seek help. Begging your pardon, but it is not wise.”
“Do not presume to instruct me upon wisdom,” Mrs. Hobart snapped.
“You will not speak to my man in that manner,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice low but leaving no room for dispute.
Elizabeth could bear no more.
“Mrs. Hobart.“ She stepped forward, putting herself ahead of her companion. The move felt dangerous, like stepping to the edge of a roof. Her attention fixed upon Mr. Darcy. “You say you are bound for London, sir?”
“I am.” He eyed her warily, as if she were another broken wheel contrived to delay him.
“Our own carriage cannot carry us northorsouth. If we attempt to go north in this weather, we may end up stranded upon the road, as your coachman says. If we remain here, we may not depart for some time, for there are no other carriages to be hired. You do not owe me any allegiance, Mr. Darcy, of that I am aware. But you are a gentleman." She waited, her breath making pale clouds in the air.
His expression grew grim.
She must not falter now. “Would you be so very inconvenienced if you were to allow Mrs. Hobart and me to ride with you as far as London? We would endeavour to give you as little trouble as possible.”
“We do not wish to travel to London,” Mrs. Hobart told her firmly.
“I do not wish to travel north and become a permanent fixture of the landscape,” Elizabeth replied, voice pitched low.
“But Sir Reginald . . ."
“Will be stranded for some time yet, and does not know where to find us. He will return to London to seek further instructions. We shall meet him there.” She hoped to be back at Longbourn by then, but they would meet again eventually.
Mr. Darcy observed their exchange silently. He was likely weighing which would be worse, leaving them behind or allowing them to accompany him. It showed in the tightening at the corners of his eyes, in the way his gaze flicked from her to Mrs. Hobart and then once around the yard, as if measuring every watching face and weighing every potential rumour.
When he spoke, his voice had lost its earlier harshness. It was not any warmer, but it carried the steadiness of a man who had resigned himself to an unwelcome duty.
“You wish to go south to London,” he said.
Mrs. Hobart stiffened, “No.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth inclined her head in Mr. Darcy’s direction. The Gardiners would certainly take her into their home in London and she would write to Papa to collect her from there. She waited for his response.
“I will not convey you north,” he said at last. “It is not safe. However, as a gentleman, I cannot deny you transportation to London when it offers no great alteration to my own plans.” He eyed her sceptically. “You understand that my obligation ends at London.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I understand perfectly.”
Mrs. Hobart made a sound of outraged protest.
“Sir, this is most irregular. Sir Reginald—”
“Sir Reginald is not here,” Darcy said. “I am. My coach is leaving this inn in a quarter of an hour. It will travel south to London. Miss Bennet and you may be in it, or you may remain here. Those are the only choices I offer.”