The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation by Victoria Kincaid

this inn was on the route it would be popular.
    Finally Darcy sank wearily into the other chair at her table. Resting his elbows on the scarred surface, he shook his head. “There is no room at the inn.”
    “Indeed, I suppose I should be happy we are not traveling by donkey,” she intoned solemnly.
    For a moment Darcy thought she was delirious with fever and then he laughed. “Yes, although Joseph and Mary did not need to contend with rain-soaked roads or war.”
    To his eye, her answering smile seemed forced. She wishes to hide how ill she truly feels .
    “Are there other inns in the town?” She asked.
    “No,” he said, regret coloring his voice. “It is a very small village, and there are no other towns nearby.”
    “I suppose we will simply ride to the next village.” Placing her hands on the table, she pushed herself into a standing position, smiling bravely.
    “Not necessarily. I had a thought. When I saw the name of this village, I recalled that a friend of mine lives nearby.” Listening, she sank back into her chair. “Thomas Whitmore. I know him from Cambridge. He became a clergyman, but then married a Frenchwoman whose family owns some property near here. I corresponded with him when I planned this trip and he invited me to stay with him. When the war erupted, I thought circumstances would prevent my visit, but he would be happy to offer us hospitality.”
    “But, he is not expecting us!”
    “Under the circumstances I think he would understand. I just hope that he is at home. He wrote in his letter that he would need to travel to Toulouse soon. But I think we need to attempt it; he is our best hope for accommodations tonight.” He said nothing about how badly Elizabeth appeared to need such assistance.
    By the time Darcy pulled the carriage to a stop in front of Whitmore’s home, Elizabeth’s condition had deteriorated. Her face was deathly pale and she was in a stupor; with every mile, Darcy’s concern for her health grew.
    Whitmore’s home was a grand chateau whose grand entrance fronted a sweeping circular drive. In the gathering dark, Darcy could see little of the grounds, but they appeared extensive. Darcy drew the carriage as close as he could to the main entrance so Elizabeth need not walk far, but when he pulled the exhausted horses to a halt, she appeared to be sleeping once more -- despite the lack of support provided by the high carriage seat. Darcy descended to knock on the door. He explained to the butler who he was; within moments, Thomas Whitmore was striding across the foyer to greet him.
    “Darcy! You are here! What an unexpected pleasure.” The warmth of his tone conveyed how genuinely pleased he was to see his friend.
    Darcy was extremely relieved to find Whitmore in residence. “I apologize for appearing on your doorstep unannounced. The news of the war disrupted my travel plans.”
    “Of course. I am happy to see you no matter the circumstances.” He turned and spoke to the butler in excellent French. “Henri, please see that a room is prepared for Monsieur Darcy.” The butler bowed and left.
    “Actually, Thomas, I am not traveling alone.” Darcy strode out the open door with Whitmore on his heels. He gestured toward Elizabeth slumped in the carriage seat with her shawl around her shoulders. “This is—” At that moment, she slouched still farther, and began to topple sideways off the seat. Darcy rushed forward to catch her before she hit the ground. Her body landed heavily in his arms, but she still did not awaken. Holding her, Darcy could sense the warmth of her fever-wracked skin through the thin muslin of her dress.
    “Oh my goodness!” Whitmore exclaimed, perusing Darcy’s burden.
    “I am afraid she is ill and can travel no further. The inns were full—”
    “I am so happy you came here,” Whitmore said reassuringly. “We will do everything we can for her. I will send for a doctor immediately.”
    Darcy carefully carried Elizabeth into the house’s