Mr. Darcy's Refuge by Abigail Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page A

pounds. No doubt he also hoped to revenge himself on me. Had I not discovered their plans by happy accident, his revenge would have been complete indeed.”
     
    Elizabeth could not help gasping. It was so completely unexpected and horrible, but she could not conceive of Mr. Darcy making up such a tale about his own sister.
     
    “I do not imagine my word is worth a great deal to you, but for the truth of this I can appeal to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who can verify every detail. I will ask him to make himself available to answer any questions you may have.” Darcy’s voice was now toneless.
     
    Attempting to muster her scattered thoughts, she said in a shaky voice, “I… that will not be necessary.” She no longer doubted his version. He had no reason to lie, and every reason to hide the truth.
     
    Even through her cloak and the heavy greatcoat he wore, she could feel the tension leave his body. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
     
    Elizabeth sank into a miserable silence, remembering Wickham’s sudden change of allegiance when Mary King had come into her inheritance, his flippant behavior with Kitty and Lydia, encouraging them to run wild, and the impropriety of confessing his secrets to her on their first meeting. Flattered by his attentions to herself, she had been willfully blind to it all and had fallen into the snare of his lies as if she had no more wit than Lydia. She had blithely dismissed Mr. Bingley’s assurances that there was another side of the story, as if her slight knowledge of the principals were more valuable than his years of friendship with Mr. Darcy.
     
    To crown it all, she had not even had the sense to keep her thoughts to herself – no, she had to make a fool of herself with wild accusations to Mr. Darcy’s face. After all he had suffered at Wickham’s hands, she had compounded the injury, and even enjoyed the knowledge that his tender feelings for her would make him that much more vulnerable to her words. The recognition of her vanity, her lack of insight, and even her cruelty pierced her deeply.
     
    All that time she had thought herself so clever and perceptive! If only she could hide herself away from the world, and most especially from the one man who had the most reason to resent her – the one who at this very moment was sheltering her in his arms. At least he would never know that tears of humiliation were running down her face; it would just look like that much more rain.
     
    She did not even realize the horse had stopped moving until Darcy said gently, “Elizabeth, we are here.” He swung himself down, somehow managing to keep a steadying hand on her arm. He lifted her down from the saddle, his hands lingering on her waist as she stood in the narrow space between his body and the horse’s flank, but her mortification was such that she could not bring herself to look into his face.
     
    He led her inside as if she were a child. She stopped on the doorstep to wring out excess water from her cloak, and found she was still clutching the sodden package from the toy shop. The ink on the package had bled on her hands.
     
    “You should warm yourself at the fire,” Darcy said. “I will return shortly.”
     
    Numbly, she watched after him as he disappeared into the rain. It was only then that she realized he had addressed her by her Christian name.
     

 
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Elizabeth was enormously relieved to be out of her wet clothes and into a dry dressing gown. Even with a bonnet and the hood, her hair was soaked. Wringing as much water out of it as she could, she plaited it, then scrubbed her hands. The thin paper wrapping of the parcel had almost dissolved off, leaving traces of ink residue on her fingers. The carved dog had to be dried with a towel, its painted areas carefully blotted.
     
    She took her wet garments into her old bedroom, suspecting correctly that there would be a fire in the hearth in front of which she could hang them to dry. Upon