When he returned to the room, he changed back into his clothes quickly, then placed Elizabeth’s clothes by the bed. He was just preparing to leave the room again when he heard her call out to him in a low voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy was unwilling to turn to greet her. He whispered, “Good morning, Miss Bennet. I trust you slept well.” His face turned red when he heard his own ill-chosen words.
“Indeed, I slept well. Thank you. I… I may require your assistance… to dress.”
Surprised by her request, he turned to look at her.
Elizabeth was sitting up on the bed, the sheet pulled up to cover her body. She was a vision of loveliness and enticement, though she still looked dishevelled and groggy from just awakening.
He looked away from the alluring picture she portrayed and murmured, “…To dress?”
“I fear I will need your assistance to…bind myself up.'
“…bind up?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh!” Comprehension dawned on him. He glanced back at her, and at the cloth she held in her hand. “Of course,” With trembling legs, he sat on the bed again.
She turned away from him, then let the bed sheet drop, presenting her smooth back to him. Then she started wrapping the cloth around her body from the front. When she pushed the cloth to the back under her right arm, she turned and asked him silently for assistance, with her eloquent eyes.
He moved closer, took the cloth and pulled it to her left until her hand touched his, near the underside of her left breast. Heat emitted from both their hands. He lowered his head, sorely tempted to kiss her shoulder.
She gasped, sensing his nearness.
Remembering her low opinion of him, especially after the previous night, he straightened immediately, but her forbidden proximity during the following few moments as he helped her to bind up her bosom were pure torture.
As soon as the task was completed, he left her alone to dress. Needing a breath of air in which to collect himself, he walked down to the beach, where he stood, skipping stones on the water.
Not long thereafter, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and turned to see a little boy grinning at him. The boy had blond hair and a sweet face, reminding him of Georgiana when she was young.
“I luv ta t’row stones,' the boy said.
“Yes, I love to throw stones, too,” Darcy replied.
“Come! See crab.” The boy, continuing to smile, ran toward him, took his hand and pulled him in the general direction of the hut. When they finally stopped at the end of the beach where the sand met the grass, the boy crouched down and pointed his finger eagerly at some moving crabs.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, “I can see a few crabs here.”
“Why d’they walk sideways?” the boy asked, looking up at him.
Darcy sat down on the grass, watching them scuffle.
“Ye d' know?” the boy asked, and sat besides him.
“Well, a long time ago, crabs walked like you and I. But there was one shy crab who did not like to talk to strangers.”
“Crabs ken talk?'
“Yes, they speak crab language, which we humans do not understand.”
“What 'bout dat shy crab?”
“Well, one day, a dozen strange crabs set upon him, walking straight in front of him, asking him to dance with them. He was shy and wanted to avoid them, so he started walking sideways. Of course, the other crabs laughed and threw sand at him. Since then, he could only walk sideways.”
“Dems 'twer bad crabs!”
“Ah, but one day, the shy crab came upon an injured crab stuck between two rocks. He helped her out and took her back to her home. When the injured crab asked him why he walked sideways, he did not explain but simply bid her goodbye.”
“Din't da crab git bedder?'
“Yes, she got better and came to find him. They became good friends and she began to walk sideways, as he did. Do you know who she was?”
The boy shook his head zealously.
“She was the daughter of the King Crab.”
“A princiss?!' ” the boy exclaimed.
“Yes. And when the princess started to walk sideways, it became the fashion. Ever since then, everyone in the crab kingdom has been walking sideways too.”
“I dunna like the princiss crab ! Girls trouble, like sister.”
“Why do you not like her?'
“ She bad. Pinch me.”
Mr. Darcy smiled and ruffled his hair. “Why did she pinch you? Did you do something to annoy her?”
The boy shook his head fervently.
“Even if she is not nice, you still must take good care of her. She is your sister and she is a girl. We men have to take care of our girls and women.”
“Papa say wemen's trouble!”
Darcy laughed out loud. “He jests. He loves your mother and your sister.”
“I dunna luv girls. Dey’s trouble!”
“You will love them when you grow older.”
The boy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Yer older. De ye luv girls?”
“I do not love all girls. I love just two.”
The conversation between the man and the boy was interrupted by the arrival of Margaret and Elizabeth. The latter was still dressed as a young boy, hat concealing her hair, and she leaned on her good foot. After a few pleasantries, the travellers bid the host and his family goodbye. Mr. Darcy took Elizabeth onto his back again and started up the hill.
Riding on his back, her hands around his neck, her legs around his waist, Elizabeth felt the warmth from his body heating up her chest. She had been standing near him and the boy for quite sometime, without them noticing it. She thought back to the story he had told the little boy, and his declaration of love, and her heart felt the warmth, as well. She laid her head onto his shoulder and breathed out a big sigh.
Mr. Darcy walked on silently. He could feel her soft body pressed against his back, her head on his shoulder, her breath tingling against his neck, and he wished he could carry her forever.
After an hour of silent walking, they arrived near the inn at Whitstable. Mr. Darcy, finding his servants, asked them to bring a carriage around to meet him in the woods. When it arrived, he asked the servants to walk away for a few minutes. As soon as they had done so, he pulled down the shades over the windows so that he and Elizabeth could change into gentlemen's clothes inside the carriage. Then he went out to recall the servants and give instructions for the journey back to London.
On seeing the direction of the carriage, Elizabeth asked, “Are we not to search for Lydia?”
Darcy scowled. “I shall take you back to Gracechurch Street and return tomorrow.”
“But you shall waste an entire day! Mr. Wickham and Lydia may disappear by then.”
His lips thinned. “Madam, do not try my temper any more than you have already.”
“Pray turn back the carriage. I can just as well wait for you at the inn. I promise not to follow you. I could not, anyway, with my injured foot.”
“You know that you cannot remain with me without a chaperone.”
“I am dressed as a gentleman right now. I do not see the problem. We have spent a night together already. What is one more? Please, I beg you, we must find Lydia without delay.”
“You place no consequence upon the risk to your own reputation?”
“Mr. Darcy, it is not only men who wish to take good care of their family members.”
Darcy blanched at her words, knowing that she had overheard what he said to the boy. Angry at her
