Page 11 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

A MIND MORE AGREEABLY ENGAGED

W hen the exhausted passengers arrived at their destination for the night, Darcy arranged for Elizabeth and Sarah to have a meal brought to their room. It was simple fare, but it warmed them and provided some comfort after the long day in a jostling carriage.

The accommodations were better than Elizabeth had imagined; she and Sarah would spend the night in comfort, with a bright fire, and two lamps, and the knowledge that very soon, they would be far away from London and starting their lives anew.

Where exactly, she did not know. But the worry was easing, as spending time in Mr Darcy’s company had given her a growing sense of optimism she had not felt in a very long time.

Sarah had had the wherewithal to bring her sewing kit with her, and she sat very near the glow of the lamps, tacking up the hems to the gowns given to them in haste by Mrs Partridge to better suit their pretence as a lady and a lady’s companion.

The lavender silk gown was finer than any Elizabeth had ever worn at Longbourn, and she felt very much as if she were playing a part in a charade.

Where this grand scheme would take her, she did not truly know.

She had put her trust in Mr Darcy. Time would tell whether it had been a mistake, but at this point, what choice did she have?

The books he had loaned to her were on the table next to the bed she would share with Sarah.

Elizabeth stared at them a long time, thinking of Mr Darcy’s generosity.

If she were not careful, her heart would get the completely wrong idea of this act of charity he performed.

Today’s journey and the meal they shared together at midday felt like a privilege, as if she were being cared for; it was a feeling she hardly remembered enjoying.

How quickly before she began forming foolish ideas in her head to align with the flutters of hope appearing in her heart?

It was nonsense, was it not? It was impossible that Mr Darcy would ever propose to her again. She had not been good enough for him with her father still alive and she had only gone lower since. It did no good for her heart to dwell on whatever might have been.

She was tired enough from her journey that she could sleep very well, better than she had in years.

And yet, thoughts of him would not leave her, not while she was awake, and not even while she slept.

She was eager to see him when she awoke and could not deny that his presence this morning gave her an odd sense of comfort.

He looks exhausted , she thought, breaking away from thinking of her own feelings to consider him.

“Did you sleep well, Miss Bennet? ”

“Yes, very well, thank you. And you sir?”

“Well enough.”

She suspected this may not have been the whole truth, as he really did look tired.

In truth, it looked as if he were deliberating something deeply; she could see that small but familiar crease forming between his brows.

Of course, it did not mar his looks in any way.

Even brooding, Mr Darcy was the most handsome man of her acquaintance.

She was startled to realise she was staring at the man, and equally surprised that neither of them had continued the conversation.

She tried to remedy that. “Are you well, Mr Darcy?” She could see her words shook him into the present.

A small smile broke through, and she had to admit it improved his looks even more. “Quite. Have you broken your fast already?”

“Yes, Sarah and I have eaten. We are ready to depart whenever you choose, sir.”

Wordlessly he extended his arm and she nodded as she preceded him.

In truth, it had not been a restful sleep for Darcy, as his thoughts kept him up half the night.

On the one hand, there were stirrings of hope regarding Elizabeth and whether they could reasonably have a future together.

Adding to that was his predicament with Anne.

Was there a way to extricate himself, and with the least possible effect, from an unwanted entanglement, and come to terms with his complicated feelings for Elizabeth?

‘She is the same woman that disregarded you five years ago.’ Fitzwilliam’s recent words echoed in his mind.

She had been a gentleman’s daughter, and yet still so beneath him in birth, fortune, family, and connexions that he waffled and floundered until offering her that ridiculous proposal.

And now, she had been brought even lower, first as a governess, and then as a maid of all work. Of all things!

This was the thought that kept him up through the night.

Elizabeth had become a maid out of necessity, and if there was even the slightest chance they could somehow move beyond these present circumstances to a future together, would society let them be?

Even if he could resolve the quandary within himself, because of his admiration and affection for who she was and regardless of her means of living, how would others perceive her?

What about their children? Would they be spurned by the ton ?

Instinctively he knew the answer: he knew his family, he knew the ton , and how they prided themselves on their superiority over the lower class.

Even if he could get past the chasm, they would never.

And in all truth, would it be fair to Elizabeth, her past being aired for all of London to judge and remark upon?

And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, the only woman he had ever— would ever—love.

What he felt for her, when only the heart was involved, was not complicated in the least. His love for her was true, and it was something he felt so deep within him, there was no separating his feelings for her.

Elizabeth Bennet was in every fibre of his being.

And yet, he was scared to breathe, for fear something would shift and Elizabeth would disappear in a mist, as if it were all a dream.

She looked at him curiously and asked if he was well, rousing him from his thoughts.

She favoured him with a smile that he had not seen in a long while.

She was starting to look like the Elizabeth Bennet he remembered.

A day away from London, and in the air of the countryside, colour had returned where her countenance had been distressed and pale.

He knew they should get in their respective carriages and leave for the next leg of their journey, but he selfishly wanted time with her.

“Would you care for a walk before you are trapped in the carriage for hours on uncomfortable roads?” he asked, returning her smile. “I remember how much you like to walk.”

“You remember.” It was more a statement than a question.

He gestured towards the door to the inn, but could see her hesitation. “We will not walk far, only to a small, wooded area with a few wildflowers still in bloom.”

She nodded in acquiescence, and they stepped into the morning air. She tentatively accepted his arm and they walked slowly towards the tree-lined path, with dappled sun coming through the oaks.