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He put his hand over hers on the seat between them. It stayed there only a moment. Then the carriage swung in under an archway, the lamps of an inn yard went sliding across the windows, and he took it back to open the door.

***

The Angel was very full. A night coach for the north was making ready in the yard. The ostlers were shouting over the horses, and a woman in a red cloak was arguing with the guard about a hamper. Nobody looked twice at a lady getting down from a private carriage. Mr Darcy spoke to a waiter in the doorway. Elizabeth saw a coin change hands, and the waiter's glance slide towards the back of the house, and she knew where Georgiana was before Mr Darcy came back to tell her.

“The back parlour, at the end of the passage. A gentleman bespoke it an hour ago, and a chaise for half past seven.”

It was a quarter past.

She went in. She did not turn round to see whether he was following. She knew he was, and she knew he would stop where he had promised.

The passage smelt of tallow and spilt beer, and the boards were uneven underfoot. The door at the end stood a little open. She heard Mr Wickham before she reached it. She had always thought it a pleasant voice, and it was pleasant still.

“...only a little way, my love, and then you may sleep in the chaise. By the time your brother has finished his dinner we shall be past Barnet.”

“But if I might only send a line to say I am safe. He will think—”

“Let him think. He has never troubled himself much over what you think. There, drink your chocolate. It will warm you.”

Elizabeth pushed open the door.

“Oh! I do beg your pardon, I was told...” She stopped, as any woman would who had walked into the wrong room and found an old acquaintance in it. “Why, Mr Wickham! Of all the people in the world.”

He was on his feet before she had finished. He wore a blue coat, not his regimentals, and he looked very handsome in it. For one instant there was nothing in his face at all. Then the smile came back, as easily as it always had.

“Mrs Darcy. What a remarkable chance.”

“Is it not? Georgiana, my dear.”

Georgiana sat on the settle by the fire with her valise at her feet. She still had on her blue pelisse and her bonnet. She had wound the end of one bonnet ribbon round and round her glove, so tightly that the fingers had changed colour.

“Elizabeth.” It was hardly more than a whisper. She glanced past Elizabeth to the passage, and back again, and Elizabeth understood that she was looking for her brother. She did not think the girl knew whether she hoped to see him or dreaded it.

“I came in by myself,” said Elizabeth, and sat down beside her.

She drew off her gloves and laid them on the settle, as though she meant to stay a long while. “What a dreadful road it is out of town. I am shaken to pieces. Do sit down, Mr Wickham. I am sure we need not stand on ceremony, after all those evenings at my aunt Phillips's.”

He sat, since there was nothing else to be done. Elizabeth watched him glance at the door, and at her, and at Georgiana, and reckon up his chances. He could not throw her out. He could not take Georgiana by the arm and walk her past a witness to a waiting chaise. He could only smile, and wait to see what she meant to do.

“And how is the regiment?” she asked. “Lydia will want to know. She asks after all of you.”

“Very well, I thank you.”

“I am glad to hear it.” She turned her back on him, took Georgiana's hand, ribbon and all, and began to unwind it. “My dear, I have not come to scold you. I want you to know that before anything else. I have come to tell you something, and then you may do as you think best. Will you hear it?”

Georgiana looked at Mr Wickham. Elizabeth did not.

“Mrs Darcy, I really do not think—”

“Do you remember the winter your cousin Anne came to Pemberley?”

The hand in hers went still. “Yes.”

“How was she?”

“She was...” Georgiana frowned. “She was very low. She sat in the window seat in the blue room all day and would not come down. She did not even like to be read to. Fitzwilliam said she was not well and I was not to tease her. I thought someone must have broken her heart, but nobody would ever tell me who.”

“Somebody had. He is sitting at that table.”