Read Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation for Free Online Page A

saved his life,
and in doing so, hopelessly compromised herself. He was not degrading himself
by proposing to her, but doing the only honorable thing. People would respect
him for that, rather than laughing at his poor judgment in falling victim to
the wiles of a girl far beneath him. They might still laugh at Elizabeth, but
that would not matter. She would be his. 
    He pushed the tattered quilt away. Damn,
but it was cold in this tiny place! His sleep-stiffened muscles protested as he
moved to stir what little remained of the coals. Setting one of the last logs
on top of it, he carefully nursed the flames to life. As he did so, a gust of
wind rattled the small building. Apparently the storm had not yet spent all its
fury.
    “I take it the snow continues,” he said.
    Elizabeth jumped at his words. “Apparently
so.” Her voice was lifeless.
    “No doubt it will die down soon,” he said
reassuringly, though he was in no hurry for such an event. This cottage might
be uncomfortable, but once they left it, he would have to surrender Elizabeth to
the demands of propriety until such a time as they were married. He intended to
enjoy this opportunity to have her to himself.
    ***
    Elizabeth took one last look at the snow
outside the window. There was nothing to do but to make the best of it. Rubbing
her arms, she checked her pelisse. Still wet through. She would have
appreciated its warmth, not to mention the extra distance it would allow
between her and Mr. Darcy.
    Since Mr. Darcy continued to lounge by the
fire, it was difficult to avoid looking at him as she refilled the open kettle
with the last of the water in the bucket, then hung it once again over the
fire. She was almost becoming accustomed to the shocking sight of him in his
shirtsleeves. After all, how could she be troubled by the sight of him in his
shirtsleeves when she had slept in those shirtsleeved arms only a short time
ago? A shiver travelled down her spine.
    “Will no one think to confirm your story?”
His voice took her by surprise.
    “My story?”
    “That you were stranded somewhere,
presumably alone.”
    “Most likely not, in all the chaos.
Besides, even if someone learned you were here as well, you are the last man
anyone would suspect of compromising me.”
    “Why is that?” He had the effrontery to
sound puzzled.
    She gritted her teeth. Was he truly going
to force her to say this? “Everyone already knows you do not find me handsome
enough to tempt you.”
    “Not handsome enough…Why on earth would
they think that ?”
    His incredulity only annoyed her further.
“Because you said so. At the assembly in Meryton where we first met.
Pray do not attempt to deny it. I was there and heard you say it. My vanity
easily withstood the blow of not pleasing you, but as it is not my favorite
topic of conversation in the world, let us say nothing more of it.”
    Mortified by her admission, she turned to
the cabinet which served as the pantry and began to rummage through it, more to
get away from him than out of hunger. It was bad enough to be forced to repeat
what he had said, but she did not care to see the reality of it in his face.
Truth be told, his slight still stung. There had been gentlemen who had shown
no interest in her before, but none had ever spoken of her in such a manner to
her face.
    Searching through the cabinet was unlikely
to reveal something new which had appeared miraculously since the previous
night. Choosing two more apples and some of the stale bread, she dumped them
unceremoniously on the plate in front of the hearth. If Mr. Darcy wished for
something to drink, he could fetch it himself. She was not his serving maid.
    Nor were her labors appreciated,
apparently. He ignored both her offerings and herself, looking anywhere but at
her. Had she actually managed to embarrass the proud and imperturbable Mr.
Darcy?
    “I did not mean it,” he said flatly,
apparently speaking to the fire.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I did not mean it!”