Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page B

down beside her. “How
is he?”
    “She.”
    “Oh. How is she , then?” He reached
out to stroke the cat’s head.
    It felt oddly intimate for him to be so
close, both of them touching the cat. “Still alive.”
    The cat picked her head up and sniffed at
Mr. Darcy’s fingers, then stood up in Elizabeth’s lap and stretched. Delicately
picking her way across to his legs, she curled up against his body and began to
purr.
    Elizabeth smiled at his surprised
expression, feeling warmer than she had in some time. “You seem to have made a
friend. She knows who saved her.”
    Awkwardly he reached down to pet the cat.
“Are you certain she is female?”
    “I believe so. I take it you do not have
much experience with cats?”
    He suddenly seemed to withdraw inside
himself. “Very little.”
    His taciturnity reminded her of his
earlier comments. Her concern first for his well-being and that of the cat had
distracted her, but it still made her nervous. She hardly knew which
interpretation of them she preferred – that he was mocking her or that he
truly admired her. Either one was excessively embarrassing, especially after
waking in his arms. Her skin prickled at the memory of his body pressed against
hers.
    How could she be so drawn to him when she
had such a dislike for him before? She dropped her eyes and discovered the
sleeves of his coat were peppered with splinters. Without thinking, she tugged
one of the larger ones free. “I hope your valet is not the disapproving sort.
Your attire may never be the same.”
    He looked down and began picking at the
splinters. “Showing disapproval would be beneath Crewe’s dignity. He will not
say a word, simply spirit it away and I will never see it again.”
    “Why am I not surprised you would have a
silent and dignified valet?”
    Darcy tossed a handful of splinters into
the fire where they sizzled and popped. “Dignified, yes. But sometimes he is
anything but silent.”
    “Oh?” Surely speaking of his valet was
safer than talking about his past.
    “The only time Crewe speaks more than a
few words is when he thinks I am about to make a serious mistake. Then he quite
carefully explains to me precisely what I am doing wrong and how I should
correct it.” He furrowed his brow. “Is something the matter?”
    “No, I am simply astonished you would
choose a servant who criticizes you.”
    “I know I am not perfect. Crewe is a
special case, though. He served my father before me, and on his deathbed my
father told me to keep Crewe with me and always listen to him. So he is
permitted liberties other servants would be dismissed for.”
    “And do you always listen to him?”
    His eyes looked hooded. “Yes,” he said
shortly. “I have little choice.”
    “To honor your father’s wishes?”
    “No. Because he is always right.” His
lower lip jutted in an expression which was almost a pout.
    Elizabeth laughed. “What a very annoying
trait! I should not like at all having someone who pointed out my mistakes and
was always right.”
    “And it is always when I least expect it.”
Somehow his aggrieved look was oddly appealing.
    “And now you will have to explain why you
have white cat hair on your trousers as well.”
    “Do not remind me!”
    As if on cue, the cat jumped off his lap
and sat on the hearth, carefully washing herself. Darcy took advantage of his
new freedom to poke at the fire, sending the flames higher. But when he placed
a new log on top, it sizzled and sparked, damping down the flames until he
fanned them with his hat.  
    How odd he knew so much about building
fires! Would it not have been beneath him to learn the work of servants?
Perhaps that could be a safe topic of conversation. “I am all amazement at your
knowledge of fire building, sir.”
    He spared her the briefest of glances. “I
learned it as a child. My cousin and I liked to play in a cave on his father’s
estate, and we built a fire pit to keep off the chill. The fire went out quite
frequently