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Elizabeth’s trip from Meryton to Hunsford began quietly with the trip from the village in Hertfordshire to London. But the difficulties began in the capital, as the stagecoach arrived in London, one of the horses went lame, and the driver demanded a new pair of horses.

Outside the inn, Elizabeth heard the man arguing with the blacksmith who ran the stagecoach service.

The coachman’s face was quite florid when he’d shouted, “You can’t put just any horse into the harness!

You need a pair beside each that knows the other!

Horses don’t want change no more than men do! ”

“But another team has to come from across the city, and you’ll never make Dover tonight,” complained the blacksmith.

“No, but what are your druthers? We arrive tomorrow, or we’re ass over tea kettle in a ditch somewhere between London and Maidstone?”

The blacksmith was not pleased and refused to refund any passenger’s money.

But when the noon hour arrived, he provided a portion of beer, bread, and broken meat for a meal for the eight passengers, the coachman, and the boy who rode atop with him.

Finally, a man arrived with a replacement team of horses that the coachman put into the harness to pull the stagecoach.

It was just after the one of the clock when the coach finally left to carry passengers across southern England.

The afternoon passed quickly with the stagecoach travelling east of London.

Elizabeth sat with the other travellers in the coach, squeezed into the seats, and while the conversation was stilted and spare, the young woman felt relatively safe in the coach.

There was a great deal of traffic on the road that afternoon, with carts and wagons slowing the stagecoach’s progress.

Late in the afternoon, the sky filled with dark clouds, and heavy rain began to fall.

The stagecoach entered a large town–one of the other passengers declared the place to be Gravesend, an important disembarking point for passengers to board ships on the Thames.

When the coach stopped at a large tavern, the driver disappeared inside while the boy stood with the horses in the rain.

The driver appeared at the coach’s door and shouted, “Out! Everyone out! We’re stopping here for the night! ”

Elizabeth and her companions hurried inside with the other passengers.

The elderly woman travelling in the coach was slower to make it inside, and once they were inside the door, Elizabeth insisted the wet figure be allowed a place at the fire to warm and dry herself.

The tavernkeeper was a stern man who agreed to provide food and shelter for the passengers after being paid a few coins.

The two females would share a single bed in a secure chamber while the four male passengers would sleep on the tables in the common room.

The inside of the tavern was dark with three lanterns and the fires on two separate hearths gave some light.

The rain continued with strong winds blowing, and whenever the door opened, a cold air filled the tavern.

Elizabeth kept her cape closed around her neck.

A few more wet travellers appeared seeking shelter, and the tavernkeeper sold space in the hay loft above the stables before full night settled on the town.

Once the elderly lady was relatively dry, Elizabeth led her to a table away from the fire to allow other wet persons to move close to the fire.

Then Elizabeth’s attention was captured by one figure who seemed to direct others easily.

The man gave up his place near the other fire to a mother with a fretful baby.

Then a second man appeared with a large bag and insisted the first man shed his wet coat, which was replaced with a dry one from the bag.

In the flickering firelight, Elizabeth Bennet recognised Fitzwilliam Darcy.

~~~

Elizabeth was aware of the sound of her heartbeat thundering in her ears and was glad the blush on her cheeks was hidden by the shadows in the room.

Mr Darcy left Hertfordshire at Christmas, and she tried to forget about him, but his face often appeared in her dreams and memories of how the touch of his hand ignited a fire.

In the months since he had departed, Charles did not mention the arrival of any letters and Jane had confessed the man been invited to their wedding but declined as the weather made it impossible to attend in middle of the winter. There had been nothing else said about letters or visits.

Then tonight, the handsome man suddenly appeared in the common room of the tavern in Gravesend where she was sheltering for the night.

Her stare must have been long enough for the man to feel it; despite the shadows, he looked up and caught her eye.

A flicker of recognition in his eyes flared into a brief smile before he looked away.

The common room was noisy with conversation and complaints of being cold and wet, but Elizabeth heard none of it.

She forced herself not to stare and hid the storm of emotions in her heart that matched the wind and rain outside.

After eating his meal and finishing his ale, Mr Darcy stood and approached their table with his valet close behind.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I would never imagine finding you in the Bull’s Horn on a Tuesday night.”

“Good evening to you too, Mr Darcy. I should never think to find you here when the storm drove us inside this tavern.”

“May I ask your purpose in travelling in April?” he inquired.

Smiling, Elizabeth replied, “I travel to Hunsford to visit Charlotte Collins. My visit is for a month, but my day has been wearisome. First, the stagecoach was delayed in London, and then the storm shortened the length of time on the road. A single day of travel stretched out to be two days.”

“It is a terrible storm, and I believe your coachman made the correct decision. But tell me, who is this friend, Charlotte Collins?”

“You met her before her marriage. She is–she was–Charlotte Lucas. She married my father’s cousin, Mr William Collins,” Elizabeth rushed to share the information. As was his usual practice, Fitzwilliam Darcy kept his opinion of Mr Collins to himself.

Last autumn, he had not explained his distrust of George Wickham to anyone in Meryton.

Before he left the neighbourhood just before Christmas, Darcy convinced Charles Bingley to cease efforts to educate the gentlemen in the Meryton as to the impossible fortunes George promised.

Bingley’s efforts to cast doubt on Wickham’s claims made him unpopular with his neighbours, and Darcy urged a more complacent approach to deal with the enthusiasm for the New World Tea Company.

“Fortune and fate brought us both to Gravesend tonight, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said. Again, there was a flash of a smile, and he continued, “I am glad to see you again.”

She explained the problems with one of the teams of horses that delayed their morning departure from London and added, “And the sudden storm drove us inside the…this inn.”

When Elizabeth paused because she did not know the tavern’s name, Darcy replied, “The Bull’s Horn. My valet and I are also sheltering here tonight.”

The powerful man glanced at Elizabeth’s elderly companion and asked, “Do you have a room for the night?”

“We have a room with a bed,” the young woman replied.

“A luxury for the two of you that is much better than here in the common room.”

“Do you have a room for the night, Mr Darcy?” she inquired.

“No. The tavern is filled to the rafters. Tonight, my man and I shall sleep in the hayloft,” he replied before glancing about the common room. “And we shall sleep more soundly than the fellows here on the tables and seated in chairs.”

“Might I inquire where you are travelling, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, emboldened by the length of the conversation.

“I am bound for London to resolve a financial matter. Then I shall return to Rosings to continue my annual visit reviewing the accounts with the steward of my cousin’s estate.”

Elizabeth nodded, remembering Mr Collins repeating the names of everyone in Hunsford incessantly when he arrived at Longbourn the previous autumn. She explained, “Mr Collins mentioned your aunt and cousin quite frequently during his visit.”

After a moment, she asked, “Mr Darcy, is Rosings Park truly as beautiful as Mr Collins claimed?”

Darcy’s gaze never left Elizabeth’s when he replied, “Rosings Park is particularly beautiful in the spring. The blooming flowers among the shrubberies are lovely. If you visit the manor house, stroll through the garden on the west side. The perfume from the shrubbery will be particularly nice in a few more days.”

“I shall make the effort to walk there, thank you, sir,” Elizabeth replied.

“Tonight, make certain you block the door with any chairs or other items in the room before you fall asleep,” he added before he and his valet departed for the stable.

When Darcy opened the door, he glanced back at Elizabeth and nodded.

The rain had stopped, so the man did not get wet again as he made his way to his bed of straw and hay.

Shortly after that, Elizabeth and her companion climbed the stairs to their small bedchamber.

The bed was certainly not wide enough for two persons.

But before Elizabeth could discuss the sleeping arrangements, the older woman stated she would sleep in the only chair in the room.

She did not comment when Elizabeth moved the chair in front of the door to block anyone attempting to enter during the night.

Glad not to share the bed, Elizabeth climbed under the covers in her clothes. As she lay in bed, Elizabeth’s mind was restless, thinking about Mr Darcy’s fleeting smile and blue eyes.

‘That he should have inquired after my safety was good of him.’ Then she realised, ‘He said he would return to Rosings after the business in London was complete. That will not require a month complete. Mayhap I shall see him again in Hunsford.’

Elizabeth’s heart and mind examined her mixed emotions and feelings regarding Fitzwilliam Darcy for almost an hour before she fell asleep.

~~~

In the hayloft of the stable, Fitzwilliam Darcy found himself thinking about pretty eyes. ‘Even when tired, she was lovely. And she had managed her travel well enough without a suitable chaperone. Her parents are negligent in allowing her to travel on public coaches.’

‘And she will be in Hunsford the whole of April. Once I settle the Prime Minister’s worry about the bill, I shall not delay my return to Rosings. Perhaps my morning walks will be more enjoyable with intelligent conversation.’

The gentleman’s thoughts dwelt on the lovely girl as he tried to dismiss from his life completely after last December. His heart refused to listen to the reasoning of his mind. He would spend time with the young woman and continue their friendship.

~~~

In the early morning light, Elizabeth walked from the tavern to the stagecoach in the company of the elderly woman and the other passengers–men in rumpled clothes after their night sleeping on the tables in the common room. She glanced toward the stable but did not see Mr Darcy in the courtyard.

‘I do not know if he rides horseback or in his carriage,’ she realised. The coachman climbed into the box and set the carriage in motion, leaving the Bull’s Horn behind.

When she spoke with the old woman, there were remarks about the handsome gentleman from the night before and who he was.

With a serious tone, Mrs Cutter, said, “The dandies know they can turn any girl’s head.

Remember that young miss–handsome faces don’t tell ye what de heart be like. Guard yer heart and virtue from men.”

To change the subject, Elizabeth asked, “Where are you travelling, Mrs Cutter?”

The woman replied, “To my son in Maidstone. He works in a mill there, grinding corn. My last position ended just ten days ago. I’m too old to keep working.”

~~~

Just after the middle of the day, the stagecoach arrived in Maidstone, where Mrs Cutter departed Elizabeth’s company, looking for her son’s place of employment.

The stagecoach did not stop for lunch and continued; the coachman determined to make Dover before the end of the day.

He almost drove through the village of Hunsford, but the shouts of men inside the coach made the driver stop the horses.

The boy got Elizabeth’s small trunk down, but they were forced to walk back to the small livery stable in the village.

The boy had one handle while Elizabeth struggled with the other handle.

The moment he sat the trunk on the ground at the livery, the boy took off at a run back to the coach that was set in motion as he climbed up.

The local blacksmith nodded, “Mr Collins was frantic when you didn’t arrive yesterday. There’s a cart to carry your trunk, but you’ll have to walk to the parsonage.”

“How far is it to the parsonage?” asked Elizabeth.

“Only a mile or two,” the man replied as a stableboy brought out the pony cart. The two men loaded the trunk into the small cart, and the boy led the pony down the road with Elizabeth following.

Smiling, Elizabeth thought, ‘I am glad the pony is old. She sets a pace I can meet this afternoon.’

With a walk of almost two miles, they arrived at the parsonage in Hunsford in the middle of the afternoon.

Hearing the approach of the pony cart, Charlotte Collins rushed from the cottage to hug Eliza and give the stableboy a penny as gratuity for bringing her friend with her trunk to the parsonage.

The boy carried the trunk into the house, but the housemaid struggled to get the trunk above the stairs.

It took assistance from Charlotte and Elizabeth to finally get the trunk into the bedroom.

~~~

“My dear? Mrs Collins where are you?” called William Collins when he walked into the parlour.

Coming through the kitchen door into the dining room and then the hall, Charlotte replied, “Here, Mr Collins. We were in the kitchens discussing the menus.”

“Did our guest arrive?”

“She did, sir. The pony cart delivered Miss Eliza and her trunk in the middle of the afternoon,” Charlotte replied, motioning for her guest to enter the hallway where Mr Collins greeted his cousin.

“Our coins are stretched very tightly, Mrs Collins,” replied the man. Elizabeth wondered what he would say if she asked him about payment for his meals at Longbourn and Lucas Lodge during his visit last autumn.

Embarrassed by her husband’s words, Charlotte reminded Mr Collins that Eliza would be helping with all housework, sewing, and cleaning during her visit. Elizabeth remained silent, planning to include the man’s comments in her first letter to her father.

‘If Mr Collins is short coins this spring, perhaps I can mention Mr Bingley’s warnings, and the man will hear me,’ she decided. ‘But it will be a casual conversation over a meal, perhaps.’

~~~