Darcy set the teapot back upon the tray, feeling oddly calm. His gaze fell to the boy by the door. “You. Go tell the ostler to have my horses harnessed to the carriage this instant. If they are not in the traces within ten minutes, I will know the reason.”
The boy bobbed his head, turned, and darted away.
“I will have words for you later, sir,” Darcy told Mr. Lowell. “But I cannot remain just now. Leave us.”
Mr. Lowell apologised and did as he was bid.
Anders lingered.
“Shall I fetch coffee, sir?”
“Yes.” Darcy’s throat was dry. His head pounded. Coffee would aid him if anything would. “But watch them pour it. And have Johnson supervise the ostlers.”
Anders nodded and vanished again. Darcy drew another deep breath, this one feeling like horsehair on the back of his throat and crossed to the small mirror that hung between the two front windows.
The man who looked back at him bore little resemblance, in his own mind, to the person he knew himself to be. His hair was rumpled. His cravat had been loosened in the night and now hung half untied. His complexion was sickly.
He did not know what Sir Reginald and Mrs. Hobart planned to do with Miss Bennet. But given that they had intentionally put him out of the way, he feared for her.
The door opened once more. Anders entered with another pot, an empty cup upon a saucer and a small plate of eggs and toast. He poured a cup of the steaming liquid and set it on the little bedside table along with the food.
“You must eat something, sir,” he said. “I will not see you on the road with naught in your stomach, not after laudanum.”
Darcy’s first impulse was to refuse. There was no time. They had lost enough of that already. But his hands still shook, and his legs did not feel entirely his own. He could not afford to be weak upon the road. Miss Bennet’s safety depended upon his judgement and his endurance, and both were already compromised.
He accepted the cup. The coffee scalded his tongue and throat, and he welcomed the pain. It drove away some of the heaviness that clung to his mind. He swallowed the food without tasting it.
“Anders,” he said, when he had finished. “You saw Miss Bennet leave.”
“Yes, sir. I was in the yard to see to the horses. I watched her come out with Mrs. Hobart. Sir Reginald handed them into his coach. I thought you must know.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched.
“I knew nothing. Sir Reginald and Mrs. Hobart clearly wished it so.”
Anders’s mouth twisted. “I did think it odd, sir, that you had not called for us.”
Darcy drained the cup, filled it again. Ate in small bites. “You had a good look at his conveyance?” They might require a description, and he had not seen it.
“Dark body, sir. Four wheels. Four horses, all bays. The off leader has a white sock and a small nick on the shoulder. I noticed it while they were put to. The harness is older than the coach. There is a noticeable chip in the splashboard on the near side. Postilion rider.”
“Good.” Darcy drew a breath. His head cleared a little more.
He went to the small table where his gloves and hat lay. The act of gathering them calmed him. Here was something he could do. He could put his body in motion, even while his mind was still a bit foggy.
“Have Johnson bring the carriage to the door. I will be down directly.”
Anders bowed. “Yes, sir.” The door closed behind him.
Darcy shrugged into his coat, his fingers fumbling over the button. Though he was frustrated, he forced himself to slow, to attend to each button in turn.
There would be time enough, once they were upon the road, to curse his own folly.
He crossed the room, opened the door, and descended the narrow stair, holding tightly to the banister as he navigated the steps.
The inn’s passage smelt of spilled ale and roasting meat. Men’s voices rang from the common room. No one attempted to stop him. No one met his eye.
In the yard, frost rimed the pump handle and the edges of the trough.