“Sir Reginald,” Mrs. Hobart said with every sign of relief. “At last.”
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed. The sight of Sir Reginald brought with it a sense that the world had, for a moment, righted itself. This was the man who had stood in Longbourn’s parlour and calmly extended the invitation to join her royal grandfather in Thurnia. His presence meant order and explanation and some kind of plan.
At the same instant, she was sorry he had come, for his appearance meant that Mr. Darcy’s part in this odd expedition was very nearly over. Sir Reginald would take charge and Mr. Darcy would bow, offer a civil word or two, and return to his own life. That was what any reasonable gentleman would do.
The room grew suddenly close. She became intensely aware of Mr. Darcy on the other side of the hearth nearest the door, half in shadow, facing the room as though he was guarding it.
Sir Reginald came to greet her.
“Miss Bennet.” His eyes swept over her face with practised assessment, then softened. “You look remarkably well, considering the weather and the roads.”
Elizabeth dipped a curtsy. “I am quite well, I thank you,” she said when she straightened. “The roads have been troublesome, but Mr. Darcy’s arrangements have been excellent, and his people very capable. We have met with no difficulty that his presence did not remedy.”
Sir Reginald’s gaze flicked to Mr. Darcy, taking his measure in a glance. “Mr. Darcy. You have my gratitude.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head. “I was travelling the same road, Sir Reginald. I did only what any gentleman would have done under the circumstances.”
His tone could not have been more correct. It was his eyes that were altered. Elizabeth, standing within the circle of the firelight, saw the way his gaze sharpened as it met Sir Reginald’s.
The envoy did not notice. How could he? He did not know Mr. Darcy and therefore accepted the politeness only as his due. “Nevertheless, I am obliged to you. His Majesty will be most sensible of the service you have rendered his granddaughter.”
“His Majesty will be overjoyed to know that his envoy is no longer inconvenienced by broken wheels and country inns,” Mrs. Hobart added. “I have been half dead with anxiety at the thought of your sleeping goodness knows where, Sir Reginald. You must have suffered dreadfully.”
Elizabeth thought of her own sleepless nights and Mr. Darcy stretched upon the floor with a small fire and one thin blanket. Sir Reginald had the look of a man who had slept beneath a respectable roof every night of his journey.
“I did well enough,” he said. “The king’s business is not to be arranged by seasons and sunshine, and so I am always well prepared.”
“Being so experienced a traveller, I confess surprise that you elected to make this journey in January rather than wait for the spring,” Mr. Darcyobserved. His voice was mild, as though he was simply making polite conversation.
Elizabeth glanced at him. There was nothing in his expression but courtesy, yet she could hear a question in the arrangement of his words: why the haste?
Sir Reginald smiled. “When one has the honour of conveying such tidings from an . . .employersuch as mine, sir, there is no patience for delay.”
“Indeed. How long have you been in service to him?”
“Oh, some twenty years, Mr. Darcy.”
“And Mrs. Hobart?”
“I have been in London these past two years with my daughters, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Hobart told him. “They have both married Englishmen. But I am Thurnian-born and spent many years in the palace as a nursemaid.”
“It was an easy thing,” Sir Reginald said, “to hire Mrs. Hobart from London for the journey. We did not know whether Miss Bennet would choose to accept the king’s invitation. If she did not, it would not have been rational to require anyone else to travel all the way from Thurnia to serve as her chaperon.”
“Because of the cold,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Because of the distance, sir.”
Mr. Darcy was silent for a moment, but then said, “You must have known one another a long time to be comfortable working together on such an important commission.”
His toneremainedperfectly civil. Yet as Sir Reginald answered with some compliment to Mrs. Hobart’s devotion, Elizabeth saw a flicker in Mr. Darcy’s eyes, a slight tightening of his mouth.
What was he thinking?
Somehow, she had expected him to be impressed when faced with a royal envoy who could provide letters and seals and all manner of evidence that he was representing the Thurnian crown. Instead, Mr. Darcy stood as composed as if he greeted no more than a gentleman farmer from the next parish.
She found herself almost amused by his stubbornness.