He raised his brows at her sarcasm. “It seemed preferable to having you ride upon the steps.”
One of the grooms, hearing this, stifled a grin. Elizabeth’s mouth twitched but she suppressed the impulse ruthlessly. She would not, she told herself, be charmed by a droll man who had insulted her and was bending to his duty as a gentleman in only the most reluctant way.
She could not resist one more small thrust. “As long as Mrs. Hobart and I do not inconvenience you,” she said.
“I am already inconvenienced,” he replied, without heat. “There is little more that can be done to me upon that score.”
It was so baldly honest that she did not know whether to thank him or slap him. She would not huff as Kitty and Lydia would. No, she would be a lady despite his provocations.
Johnson opened the coach door. Two facing benches, upholstered in dark leather. A leather strap overhead, for steadiness. Two small foot warmers already in place. The faint scent of cedar and wool.
It was altogether a more comfortable equipage than the coach Sir Reginald had hired for them.
Mrs. Hobart clucked, peered in, and then climbed aboard with all the haughtiness she could muster, which was, Elizabeth admitted, considerable. Once the older woman had settled upon the backward-facing bench with a wounded expression, Elizabeth followed, gathering her skirts carefully to keep them clear of the step.
Mrs. Hobart waved at the forward-facing bench. As Elizabeth sat at the far end, she became acutely aware of every inch of her person. Her pelisse was warm but hardly new; her boots bore the marks of country lanes; her gloves had been slightly mended at the thumb. Mrs. Hobart’s insistence upon addressing her as a princess had not magically refashioned her wardrobe.
The space that had seemed adequate moments before shrank considerably when Mr. Darcy sat beside her. She was acutely conscious of him; even seated, he filled the carriage. She caught a faint scent of cedar as he arranged his greatcoat. Her awareness of him prickled along her skin, uncomfortable and impossible to ignore.
Mr. Darcy rapped upon the roof with his cane. The coach lurched, then rolled forward.
Elizabeth’s stomach rolled with it. She fixed her gaze upon the small window beside her, where the inn yard began to slide away.
She imagined the servants and innkeepers watching now, nodding to one another. Of course Mr. Darcy had done the proper thing in the end. It was what gentlemen did. But he was clearly displeased to do so. Elizabeth was both grateful and wary.
It was a very confusing way to begin a journey.
Mrs. Hobart leaned forward and began to fuss with the lap rug. “Your Highness, you must tuck this more securely about your knees. Mr. Darcy,I trust the route you have chosen will favour your passengers’ comfort. Excessive jolting is most unsuitable for ladies of delicate—”
“Mrs. Hobart,” Elizabeth said, unable to bear being calleddelicate, “I am certain Mr. Darcy does not require instruction upon the management of his own coach.”
“I assure you,” Mr. Darcy said after a heartbeat, “that I shall do my utmost to protect all my passengers from excessive jolting, broken wheels, and any other hazards of the road.”
Elizabeth folded her hands upon her lap, keeping her shoulders straight. Cold politeness would be her armour. She had placed herself in this carriage by her own request; she must now politely endure whatever came of it.
Beyond the window, the inn fell away behind them. The road to the north was covered in large snowdrifts. Mrs. Hobart looked very much as though she would like toinsistthey turn north, but even she could not deny that travelling that road would be folly. In the end, she leaned back against the squabs and was silent.
Mr. Darcy’s carriage took a turn to the right and headed south.
Chapter Ten
The first day of Darcy’s journey with two unwanted guests in his carriage included all the petty discomforts that winter could contrive. The yard of the second posting inn was hard underfoot where the snow had frozen in ridges, yet treacherous where it had begun to thaw. The air cut at the fingers, and breath hung in white clouds about the horses’ heads.
Darcy stood with his collar turned up, watching Anders and Johnson bring the carriage to rights. The harness jingled, a businesslike sound that promised the one thing he most desired: steady progress south. If they kept their time, if the roads did not deteriorate, he might reach London late tomorrow or early the following day and retrieve Georgiana from Matlock House.
“Road looks fair enough, sir,” Anders called, coming round from the leaders.
Johnson, at the wheelers’ heads, added, “Day after tomorrow if there’s no more snow.”
His men moved with the easy competence he had come to rely upon, yet impatience pressed at him all the same. Every minute spent in an innyard felt like an affront to his duty; every delay brought back Georgiana’s halting letters and his uncle’s demands.
He had just turned towards the inn door when it opened. Mrs. Hobart emerged first, swathed in a travelling cloak that did nothing to soften the sourness of her expression. Behind her came Miss Bennet, her own more modest pelisse better suited to her figure. The wind caught at her bonnet ribbons and drew a faint colour into her cheeks.
Despite all she was doing, he could not deny that Miss Bennet was a comely creature.
She paused upon the threshold, her gaze travelling at once beyond the yard, to where the wide road stretched away between whitened hedges.
Miss Bennet did not look at him immediately. Her attention went southwards, following the line of the road. For a moment she stood thus, as if fixing the direction in her mind, then descended with careful composure.