Free Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds Page B

as
his mock-stern expression made her laugh. “And I was accustomed to thinking you
too serious!”
    “I am very serious indeed, especially when
it comes to hot food.” His actions followed suit.
    Poking him in the ribs with her elbow, she
said more out of playfulness than necessity, “My turn.”
    He held up the spoon for her once more.
“Your wish is my command.”
    She tried to take a sip. “This is harder
than it looks! I have no idea how infants manage it.” Finally she swallowed it
down, then licked a few spilled drops from her lower lip.
    Darcy’s hand stopped in mid-air as he
stared at her mouth. Had she missed some soup and allowed it to dribble down
her chin? How embarrassing that would be. Once again she ran her tongue over her
lips.
    “You may have the spoon.” Darcy’s voice
sounded hoarse as he dropped the spoon on the hearth.
    Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. Once again
she had managed to offend him without even knowing what she had done. And just
when she had been enjoying his company! Was it too much effort for him to hand
her the spoon? “Very well,” she said equably. Unwilling to go hungry because of
Mr. Darcy’s moods, she proceeded to eat a few mouthfuls of the soup, then
replaced the spoon precisely where he had left it.
    Even the soup was less satisfying now, not
that it had been flavorful to start out with. Perhaps she should have cut up
the onions more or removed the papery skin which now floated in the soup. It
might be hot, but her stomach still felt hollow. There must be something else
she could do. Were not men generally in better spirits when they were not
hungry?
    On inspiration, she braved the cold and
left Darcy’s side in search of the stale bread she had seen the previous day.
It was as hard as a rock, but she brought it back to the hearth anyway.
Unfortunately, breaking off a chunk of it was more difficult than she had
anticipated. She was overly conscious of Darcy observing her vain efforts.
    Finally he took the bread from her without
a word. He raised it over his head, and then smashed it down on the edge of the
hearth. The loaf broke into several pieces, or perhaps it would be more
accurate to say it shattered. Could bread shatter?
    “Thank you.” She did not look at him as
she dunked a chunk of bread into the soup. She let it soak briefly, then
removed it and held the dripping end over the kettle.
    There was no way to eat such a thing
gracefully, but what did she care for Mr. Darcy’s good opinion? She clearly
could not keep it long. Cautiously she leaned forward and bit into the soggy
bread. Sitting back, she chewed it slowly, then swallowed.
    “I cannot say I recommend the dish highly,
but it is preferable to going hungry,” she said.
    “A clever idea.” He followed suit with
another piece of bread.
    At least he no longer sounded upset. She
would keep her peace in hope it would last.
    The bread and soup disappeared quickly,
leaving nothing for them to do but to sit huddled together for warmth.
Initially Elizabeth resolved to say nothing, but the discordance between their
physical closeness and emotional distance finally won out over her reluctance.
    “You look very serious. Is something that
matter – apart from the usual issues like being stranded here in the cold
with an impertinent miss instead of a cook?”
    “Not at all. I cannot imagine sharing my
coat with my cook, so it is just as well she is not here. I am merely
attempting to keep my thoughts of that impertinent miss to those of a brotherly
nature.”
    That was not what she had expected to
hear. “From what I can see, you seem to be succeeding in that.”
    “Do I?” His voice had an odd inflection.
    She tilted her head to look up at him. “I
do not understand.”
    He let out a long breath through his
teeth. “In fact, I am failing abysmally at it, and have been ever since I gave
you that spoonful of soup.”
    “Oh.” Was that why he had withdrawn so
suddenly? How was she to respond? Her lips