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

leaves, flowers, bark – and a small knife. With a
glance backwards to assure Mr. Darcy was preoccupied with the fire, she bit
into a piece of bark, tasting the bitterness of willow. Excellent. She silently
thanked the woman of the house. A cup and a wooden plate.
    The last cupboard turned out to be the
larder. Some onions, a cloth sack of oats and another of barley. None of that
would help her. If only her mother had not been so proud that none of her
daughters need learn to cook! At the moment, she would give a great deal for a
few lessons from Cook. Half a loaf of bread so stale it would be given to the
poor at Longbourn. Perhaps this one had come from another fine house. More
onions. Could people live on onions alone? A few carrots, half a dozen wrinkled
apples, and two turnips. She cast a glance at Mr. Darcy. The apples would do,
but she imagined he would have to be very desperate indeed to gnaw on a turnip.
    At the bottom, half hidden under another
sack, she discovered a piece of frayed cloth rolled into a bundle. She lifted
it out and unwrapped it. Dried meat! That was a welcome surprise. She would
hardly have expected a poor laborer to afford so expensive an item.
    “We are in luck.” She showed Mr. Darcy her
discovery. 
    “Indeed.” He picked up a strip and
frowned. “Venison. Apparently our host is a poacher, or has a friend in the
business.”
    “You will not report him, will you?”
    “I could hardly do so while taking
advantage of the spoils, but it will go against the grain.” He glared at the
offending item.
    Elizabeth hid a smile. “Well, we shall not
starve, but it will be far from the fare you are accustomed to, unless you
happen to make a habit of climbing apple trees in winter to pull down the last
wizened fruit.”
    He gave her a sidelong glance. “It has
been many years since I climbed an apple tree.”
    “I observe you do not deny ever tasting
the forbidden fruit! Mr. Darcy, you have hidden depths. We shall not perish from
thirst, either, unless you object to drinking from a wooden cup. There is a keg
in the corner which I daresay holds small beer.”
    The corner of his mouth turned up. “A
veritable feast! Dried meat, wizened apples, and small beer.”
    Who would have expected the stern Mr.
Darcy to possess a playful side? She should be thankful for it. This situation
was difficult enough without having to listen to complaints about it. Watching
him feeding wood to the fire, she might almost think he was enjoying himself.
    After filling the small kettle hanging
over the fire with melting snow, she sliced the apples as well as she could
with the small knife, collected the substance of their meager meal and brought
it to the welcome warmth of the hearth. “As there is only one plate and one
cup, I fear we will have to share.” She watched him through her eyelashes,
wondering how he would take this final bit of deprivation. If it troubled him,
he showed no sign of it.
    He offered her the cup so she might take
the first sip. Why did he have to watch her as she set her mouth to the rough
edge of the cup? She licked the last drop off her lip as she handed it back to
him. “It is rather sour.”
    “Only to be expected.” As he drank from
the cup, his gaze remained fixed on her.
    His look made her shiver. She had shared a
cup with her sisters many times, but somehow this felt almost indecent, seeing
him put his lips where hers had been, but there was nothing to be done for it.
She looked away in embarrassment until the silence reminded her he could not
begin to eat until she did, although it could hardly be called silence given
the howling of the wind. She hoped the thatch of the roof would hold, or they
would be in dire straits indeed.
    Somehow he had managed to rearrange the
apple slices so the best of the fruit was on her side of the wooden platter.
Despite her hunger, she had to force herself to take one and bite into the soft
flesh of it.
    Once free to begin, Darcy attacked the
remainder