Page 1 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
1.Fair Warning
Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, standing in the courtyard of the Hatfield coaching station, feeling the weight of months to decades of anger and humiliation falling on her, shoved the door of the carriage open again, stuck her head out, and bellowed at the top of her lungs in a most unladylike manner.
“FAIR WARNING, MR DARCY!”
Her warning thrown to the wind, Elizabeth was frightened out of her wits when a boy of five or six ran headlong in front of her husband’s team. The boy’s father made a desperate grab and just barely managed to yank him out of harm’s way. Luck was with them, though it remained to be seen whether it was good luck or bad, as the boy’s father dragged him back with language that would put Mr Baker to the blush. For the boy, the luck was clearly of the best kind. For Mrs Darcy, it was hard to tell.
She watched her husband’s grooms carefully to see if either heard her shout, but neither gave any sign of doing so. The coach was already moving at quite a clip, and she doubted they would hear a church bell or cannon with the boy’s father screaming at him.
The lady sighed, and supposed it was probably for the best, because she had shouted more out of rage and frustration than anything else. She had no idea what she would have said if her husband returned. More than likely, they would have had another vicious row, and she would have sunk even farther in his brown books. She supposed he would have descended even farther in hers as well, but it was difficult to imagine being any angrier without bashing his head with a rock.
One of the grooms from the back of her carriage stood by the door, wondering what to do. He had put the step down and heldthe door while he waited to see if he could help in any way. He was a young man of eighteen, who reminded her vaguely of one of her Gardiner cousins. He was obviously uncomfortable, as any sensible person who had heard their wedding-day argument would be.
She took his offered hand, descended to the courtyard, and, feeling foolish, looked at him, wondering what to say.
He helped her out by asking, “Should we catch them up, madam? It is not too late if we hurry. Or would you take some refreshment?”
“No, I suppose not. There seems little point. How far to the next stop?” she replied with a resigned frown.
“Two hours, madam.”
She glanced around and found herself surrounded by a coachman and the two grooms, still angrier than she had ever been in her life. She had no idea if her new husband was as bad as he appeared, or some extreme pressure she did not understand made him behave out of character. Through her pain and rage, she could just barely comprehend that she had been squeezed into this infernal box with that man, butso had he—and from his perspective, both the fault and the benefits were entirely on the Bennet side. She had to ruefully admit that she had not exactly been a model of propriety and temperance in all situations herself.
At times, he had rubbed his head as if in pain, so for all she knew, he was ill and was ordinarily as adorable as a new puppy. With a grim chuckle, that ridiculous thought brought her a quarter-inch back towards good humour. She would gladly give him the benefit of the doubt if she ever got rid of enough anger… eventually… maybe. That said, there was certainly nothing in heractualexperience to suggest he was someone she wanted to spend much time with, let alone the rest of her life.
“Might I have your names, good sirs?”
Calling a footman or coachman ‘sir’ was a little silly, but she reckoned that she needed all the allies she could get. Being kind to servants was not only the right thing to do, but it also served the very practical purpose of making them like you more than one’s less-kind contemporaries. It was common sense, but many in her social class did not seem to grasp such basics. She knew people who treated their horses or dogs better than their servants, but she was not among them—and come to think of it—she had no evidence her husband was either. There was a positive thought among the rubble of her ruminations for the day.
She looked over and saw his coach go round a corner out of sight, half a mile away. She thought a half-mile was good, a mile better, a dozen better yet, and a thousand best of all. Realistically though, the latter seemed overly optimistic.
While she was wool-gathering, the coachman approached, so she was surrounded by all three men. “I am Luis Gregory, ma’am, and these are my sons, Silas and Percy.”
Elizabeth curtseyed for lack of a better idea. “As you already know, I am Mrs Elizabeth Darcy. I am pleased to meet you.”
All three bowed, though for the first conversation with a new mistress, it seemed odd at the very least.
Elizabeth asked, “Do any of you need rest or refreshments?”
Mr Gregory answered for all. “No, madam. We are fine, but we appreciate being asked.”
While he spoke, Silas turned around and reached into the back corner of the coach to return a moment later with Elizabeth’s shawl. It was her favourite, something her Aunt Gardiner said would be handy in the frozen wilds of the north. It was part of her trousseau, which should make her loathe it, except she would happily bet anything her aunt and uncle bought it, not her worthless father. For all she knew, her uncle paid for the entire thing.
Silas said, “Begging your pardon, but you seem chilled. Might this help?”
Elizabeth smiled at his kindness and wrapped the shawl about her shoulders. “I do not know how much you heard or know, but I assume you understand this is not exactly usual.”
Mr Gregory cleared his throat awkwardly. “Some speak of three monkeys:See No Evil,Hear No Evil,andSpeak No Evil.My sons and I are of that persuasion. Your story is yours to tell or not as you choose, and all we will venture is agreement with whatever you say.”
Elizabeth smiled at the kindness, and frankly, found the oddness of the discourse calming. “Thank you. I cannot say how much that means to me.”
“Shall we get somewhere more comfortable? We stop in two hours to bait the horses, but we could just as easily stop for the night.”
“How do you manage it, if you do not mind me asking?”
“The master has accounts at several inns, and I carry coin for emergencies.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking it best to refrain from robbing her own coachman to run away just yet.
