Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 11
The next morning, I hopefully explored the countryside on foot. I recalled hearing Elizabeth mention a place called Oakham Mount as a favorite haunt. I asked a servant for directions and walked that way. My efforts were rewarded. As I crested the top of the Mount I saw my beloved sitting on a large rock and admiring the view. I greeted her, “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.”
She looked at me and smiled beautifully. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I am glad to see that you can spare attention to the conversation of others in my family beyond my mother.” She was teasing me, but looked sincerely pleased.
I am sure that I blushed at her teasing. I nodded and said, “I always spare attention to your words.”
She said, “I am glad to hear it.” Then she looked away, ostensibly admiring the view. After a moment she said, “I must thank you, I think. I believe you convinced my father not to allow Lydia’s intended journey to Brighton?”
I nodded and looked sober. “I am pleased that he heeded my advice. I did not wish to overstep my bounds or give offense…”
Elizabeth shook her head and said, “Oh! You did not. Papa loathes the usual niceties. He seems to approve of you very much.” She sighed and said, “I had attempted to reason with him, but he would not heed my words. I was afraid of saying too much, so I fear he did not give much credence to my arguments.”
I looked at her with appreciation and said, “I thank you for taking care where my sister is concerned.” We exchanged a warm look and I continued, “I anticipate introducing the two of you. I hope you will allow it soon. She will adore you.”
She looked at me seriously and asked in an odd way, “What is Miss Darcy like?”
I was puzzled by her tone. I replied, “She is just sixteen. She is very fair and tall for her age, about your height.” I considered how to describe Georgiana’s personality. “She is tender hearted. I would have to admit that she is not easy in company. Perhaps she has been with me too much.” I smiled with self deprecation.
Elizabeth looked at me tenderly and said, “There is a pleasing softness to your tone when you speak of her. I think she must have a very loving brother in you.” She spoke more quietly, “I know you are an unparalleled protector.”
I bristled a bit as I replied, “I have not proven so able in that way as I ought.” I tried not to think of that day at Ramsgate.
She stood and approached me slowly. I looked at her questioningly. She laughed lightly and said, “You look as though you need to be held and comforted. I cannot but come to you.” She put her arms around my neck and pulled me close.
I said, “I shall have to find a way to appear so at all times!” I wrapped my arms around her and we stood there quietly for some time, enjoying comfort of one another. After a long moment I pulled back slightly and leaned down to kiss her. It was like coming home. Though I delighted in the touch of her lips, I forced myself to be content with only a few kisses before pulling back. I said, “Tell me of your first sight of me and Bingley. I heard you mention that you saw us from here?”
She told me she’d seen us galloping across the fields, a few days before it was known that Netherfield had been let. She admitted that despite her distaste for horses she’d been struck by the sight, by the speed and power of the horses and the mastery of the riders.
I laughed slightly, “I’d not call Bingley a master horseman. He’s an excellent shot, perhaps the best I know, but does not handle his horses so very well.”
Elizabeth looked amused. “You do not deny that you deserve such a title, however. What of your shooting abilities? I am surprised you would yield to him as your superior.”
I shook my head, smiling as I told her, “I have little choice in the matter. He is the better shot.” I chuckled and wryly defended myself, “Do not misunderstand me to suppose I am the best at everything. I am not that proud!”
She crooked an eyebrow and smiled at me teasingly. “I merely want to verify that your pleasing ways can be trusted.” I looked at her quizzically. She admitted, “I have recently undergone a significant transformation in the way I think of you. I would not like to think that I am so silly as my father inferred, only charmed by your heroism. I must continue to make out your character so that I might sketch it in a way that reflects credit on both of us. I wish to be able to account to my intellect for the strength of my emotions where you are concerned.”
I replied with some alarm, “Please do not go too far in such an exercise. I may not bear up under your scrutiny and I do not think I could survive another rejection by you. Your opinion matters to me in a singular way.”
She turned to me and pulled my head down so she could kiss me. She said, “At that moment you looked as though you needed even more than to be held.”
I returned her kiss and then said, “I suppose perhaps we should walk together. I do not want you to think that I only desire your kisses.” I paused and then added, “Much as I do desire them, it might not reflect credit on me if you do not know that I also desire your sweetness and your intellect, your opinions and your character.”
She blushed and said, “You must think me a wanton.”
I closed my eyes briefly against wild imaginings and stopped walking. I said, “I rather deeply wish you wanton, Elizabeth. You cannot imagine how that idea works on me.” Incapable of any other action at the moment, I pulled her to me and kissed her soundly. I continued kissing her for some time, feeling her gasp and respond to the fire within me. I felt her arms slide up around my neck and her body seemingly melt against my own. Finally, somehow, I was able to stop. I gasped, breathless with desire for her. I held her so that her head fit just beneath my chin and cradled her against me as I struggled to regain full control. I could feel her trembling. I whispered, “Are you well?”
She nodded and said, “I never knew it could be like this. The descriptions of passion in poetry and books, even those I ought not to have read, don’t do it justice.” She clung to me. “Even when I disliked you I was drawn to you. It was part of why your perceived disdain of me worked on me so. It made me angry to think that I found you attractive and that I wasn’t ‘handsome enough to tempt’ you.”
I groaned and said, “Oh! I was a fool! Even as I uttered the words I knew them false. It was only that I was uncomfortable with the attention and the situation. I could hear whispers of ’10,000 a year!’ and the like. Not that it matters. There is no excuse for how rude I was.”
She laughed slightly and said, “You are forgiven, Mr. Darcy.” She saw the odd expression on my face and asked, “What is it?”
I kissed her cheek and said, “I was wondering if you might call me by my Christian name?”
Her eyes went wide and she asked, “Fitzwilliam?” I nodded and she said, “But it makes me think of your cousin, the Colonel!”
I blanched and said, “Then please don’t call me that!” I nearly closed my eyes again against what I imagined in that moment!
She reached up and brushed back a curl from my forehead. Thoughtful, she asked, “Would it be acceptable to call you Will?”
I nodded and kissed her again. Then I moved my lips to the skin at her neck, kissing her very lightly there. I heard her gasp, “Will… Oh! You are forgiven.” I kissed her lips again and then pulled away. I loved the look on her face.
I said, “Thank you for your forgiveness. As I said, even as I uttered those foolish words I knew them false. I did not yet know how far from the truth they would prove for me; that I would come to think you the handsomest and most exquisite lady of my acquaintance, but I knew them false.”
She said, “I like being courted by you.”
I stepped back from her and kissed her hands again. “The temptation of you prevents me from being more proper in my efforts.”
She smiled saucily, “We must be proper when others are present, but I could not forgive you if you did not let me know that you find me tempting when we are alone.”
She took my arm and we walked the paths of Hertfordshire together, talking on all manner of topics for the rest of the morning. When we were in the most private spots I would see her looking at me as though she sought reassurance that I yet desired her. I was most happy to prove my feelings again and again. It was intoxicating.
The conversation turned to the day of the carriage accident. I asked, “Why have you not talked of the accident and events following with your family?”
She was silent for some time. Finally she owned, “I have only been completely honest with Jane. That has been my way for most of my life, I confess. I do not trust the others with my secrets and my heart. Perhaps if I did not care for you as I do, I would be easier talking of my time alone with you.”
Curious, I asked, “Have you told her everything?”
She asked, “What would you be surprised to hear that I had told her?”
I thought of several things. I thought of the way I’d held her as she slept. I thought of the lascivious leering of the one gypsy man. I thought of our time together at the inn, most especially in the middle of the night. Finally I said, “I might be surprised if you had told her about the way the door between our rooms fell open as you bathed.”
She flushed crimson. She looked away from me as she said, “I only told her that as the doctor attended you the door fell open and I saw you unclothed from the waist up and found the sight most appealing.” I was silent as I watched her. She said, “I was so caught up in the sight of you that I did not even realize at first how exposed I was!” She still would not look at me. Yet there was something in her expression that kept me silent. She finally admitted, “No. I did not tell Jane that when I realized that you saw me… naked… and you looked on me with obvious desire, well, just how very much I liked it. I did not tell her that I realized how much I’d always wished for you to desire me.”
We were getting nearer to Longbourn. I realized that the privacy we’d enjoyed so much was nearly at an end. Again I pulled her to me and kissed her passionately. I queried quietly, “You found the sight of me appealing?” She ran her hands up my chest and looked at me with fire in her eyes. I stayed still as she leaned up and kissed me, running her hands again over my chest and up to my shoulders. I savored the approval I felt from her.
She whispered, “You are very strong!”
I chuckled and replied, “I feel very weak at the moment.” She begged another kiss and I began to run my hands over her back and arms. I allowed one hand to trail slowly up and down her side. She trembled against me.
She whispered, “Will, I find you very appealing. I desire you.” She kissed me again for a long time. Finally she said, “And I love you.”
That evening it was sheer torment to sit in the same room with Elizabeth and pay mind to other people. I wanted her close to me. I desired her kisses and caresses. I wanted to hear her call me ‘Will’ again. When she was serving the coffee I managed to touch her fingers as she handed me my cup. I saw fire in her eyes and then we once again looked away to others and pretended to mind their concerns. I resolved that at the next possible moment I would request a private interview with Elizabeth and beg her to marry me.
I was frustrated to hear that she and Miss Bennet were to spend the next morning in Meryton with their aunt, Mrs. Phillips. I planned that I would call in the afternoon and seek my audience then. Finally as Bingley and I took our leave I managed to steal a moment alone in the hallway with her to whisper, “If you will allow it I would like to speak with you tomorrow; a private interview, please?”
Her eyes shone with promise and happiness as she nodded her reply. Then Mrs. Bennet entered the hall and we finished taking our leave. It was just starting to rain as we entered the carriage, a long slow rain that promised to continue through the night and into the next day. I was quiet in the carriage on the way back to Netherfield. After some time, I noticed Bingley’s smile. He said, “You were probably too busy trying not to stare at Miss Elizabeth to notice, but I managed to speak with Mr. Bennet tonight. He gave his approval when I told him that Jane had accepted my proposal earlier today.” He looked away from me as though lost in blissfully happy memories. That he was utterly content was readily apparent. His satisfied demeanor was in marked contrast to my own reined-in energies.
I said, “Congratulations! I did not know you intended to call at Longbourn today.”
He chuckled, “I thought my mission more likely to meet with success if I came without you. Besides, I noticed that Miss Elizabeth was away from the house walking all day. I thought that perhaps you’d been fortunate enough to find a way to escape your new sweetheart, Madame Bennet, in order to spend some time with her daughter.” He looked at me quizzically.
I admitted, “I did happen upon her as she walked.”
He laughed, “An amazing coincidence given that this is not a miniscule county!”
I nodded and said, “Amazing, indeed.”
He asked, “So, will you propose again?”
I only nodded. Then as he continued to look at me, I said, “Tomorrow, Bingley. She has agreed that I might speak with her tomorrow. I believe it will be a wonderful day.”
Chapter 12
Posted on Thursday, 30 March 2006
The rain continued through the night and the new dawn was pale and gray. It did not at all match my feelings of excitement, especially as I reminisced over the favorable reception I’d had from my beloved the previous day. My mood dimmed somewhat when, late in the morning, Miss Bingley’s carriage arrived. She found me at table. After greeting her I said, “I am surprised that you braved the elements to come from London this morning, Miss Bingley.”
She said, “It is a savage day, is it not? Of course that is appropriate to this desolate country.” I did not respond, only looked at her noncommittally and took a sip of my tea as she had her plate served. In my mind I allowed myself the luxury of a fitting epithet or two. She brushed at a spot on her gown and continued, “I thought it important that I come here to take care of my brother and see if I could prevent him from an impetuous mistake. It is all well and good for him to feel badly if Miss Bennet’s feelings were hurt, but not necessary for him to make a spectacle of himself by his attendance of her. Why, the servants tell me that he has dragged you to Longbourn every day this week!” She laughed meanly and looked at me with feigned pity. I was disgusted.
I laughed lightly and assured her, “That is a poor description of the situation, Miss Bingley. I went most willingly.” I looked at her directly, with a slight smile meant to hint at the pleasure I took from visiting Elizabeth.
She colored slightly and gazed at me with an odd expression, saying, “You are a generous friend, Mr. Darcy.” Pointedly, she asserted, “You have been a better friend to him in the past, however.”
I replied quietly, “We must agree to disagree on that, Miss Bingley. I have come to realize that I did him an injustice and I am grateful for his forgiveness. He has even asked me to stand up for him when he marries Miss Bennet! He is most generous.” I looked at her evenly, meanly enjoying her discomfort. It was beneath me, but she is truly detestable at times.
She gasped and sat back, “Then I am too late.”
I responded, “You are in good time to congratulate him and offer him your sincere best wishes.”
She looked at me witheringly. “Please do not trifle with me, Mr. Darcy.”
I shot back bitingly, “I have never done such a thing, Miss Bingley! I only offer what I consider to be prudent advice. Your brother is delighted that Miss Bennet has always loved him; and well enough to forgive him for listening to us rather than his own heart. He has received her father’s consent. I imagine that Mrs. Bennet has already been informed. I know that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are to spend the morning in town with their Aunt Phillips. I feel safe in assuming that the engagement will be common knowledge by noon.”
Miss Bingley protested, “Surely you do not approve of such a match for Charles!”
I said, “Whether or not I do is immaterial. As it happens, I quite heartily approve. But I have enough sense to know that my approval is not as important as the happiness of two people in love.”
Miss Bingley said sarcastically, “Oh! Certainly it is true that if Charles and Jane love each other nothing else matters!”
Entering the room, Bingley chose to ignore his sister’s tone and accept her words at face value. “I am delighted to hear that you feel that way, Caroline. What a lovely surprise it is to have you here to celebrate my good news!” He kissed her cheek and teased darkly, “Unless of course you only come to further discuss your allowance or living situation?” He moved to sit by her and was served food and drink. His look to his sister was sardonically teasing.
I nearly choked on my breakfast tea. I looked at my friend with new respect and liking. I could see that despite his pointed remarks to his sister he still glowed with joy and satisfaction as he had since being accepted by Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley had gone rather pale. She swallowed hard and said, “Of course not! I am only sorry that I haven’t had the opportunity to congratulate dear Jane yet. I hope the two of you will be very happy together.” He continued to look at her steadily and it seemed to unnerve her. I imagined that if his anger had led him to violence with me, it had assuredly led him to strong words with his unrepentant sister. She said, “I hope to hear every detail of your felicity, Charles. And I must be allowed to help plan the celebrations.”
Bingley said, “We can call on the Bennets tomorrow and discuss your suggestions with them, Caroline.”
She first looked relieved and then cautiously said, “I am surprised that you do not plan to call today.”
Bingley glanced my way and grinned, “I think we would be in the way. Darcy has requested some privacy at Longbourn this afternoon.” I looked at Bingley witheringly as his sister gasped. Bingley’s good mood led him to tease, “Unless you would not mind our tagging along, Darcy?”
I smiled at him humorlessly.
After breakfast I returned to my chamber and worked on some correspondence to my steward. Then I began to write the words I should say as I proposed to Elizabeth. I winced as I recalled my last proposal to her. I tried to recall if I’d said anything that was to my credit. I supposed that the sentiment of my opening, as it referred to admiration and love, was not entirely without merit… though even then I’d been imperious. Today I would avoid using the word ‘must.’ I thought of other words to avoid and it was a humiliating list: degradation, inferiority, beneath. I groaned aloud in shame. As a lover, I had much to atone for.
With much effort and editing, I composed what I hoped would be a more acceptable proposal. It was slow work. I wanted to treat her with respect, but did not want her to be unable to respect me. Finally I wrote, “Dearest, most beloved Elizabeth: Thank you for the opportunity to speak privately with you today. I am also grateful that you are kind enough to forgive my past actions and words, and to give me the chance to become your friend and suitor. I passionately admire your beauty, your wit, your purity and sweetness. I hope to be at your service for all my life and to give you joy. I know that my sister and my tenants and servants would delight in my choice of you as the woman charged with their well being. Will you do me the honor of agreeing to become my wife?”
I laughed at myself as I looked over my written proposal. Unless I handed it to her and waited for her to read it I would never remember the words. I was far more likely to simply fall to my knees and beg her to accept me. I read over what I’d written, hoping that I might acquit myself well as a man today.
Suddenly I heard voices yelling. I could hear Bingley’s voice and recognized that he was more distressed than I’d ever heard before. I felt cold with apprehension as I exited my chamber. On reaching the top of the stairs I saw Mr. Bennet standing in the hallway below. Rain streamed from his clothing and he looked gray with anxiety. He peered up at me and I saw from his expression that he was shattered. Bingley turned to look up at me as well and there were tears of rage in his eyes. I ran down the stairs. As I reached them, Charles held out a note which I accepted with trembling fingers.
I choked as I read it aloud, “To Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Bennet: Misses Jane and Elizabeth Bennet will be returned to you if you follow instructions, without question and without fail. Do not contact the law, even private service. Do not contact any friends in the military for help. Between you, arrange to make the demanded payment of fifty thousand pounds. You will be contacted again at Wenshurst House in five days’ time with more details about the exchange.”
I stared at the familiar handwriting. I asked, “How did you receive this note?”
Mr. Bennet gasped as he replied, “It was affixed to the seat of the abandoned carriage on the tip of a knife.” He looked truly ill.
I could not hide my reaction to this detail. I felt Bingley’s hand on my shoulder as I shuddered in horror.
I asked in a clipped tone, “Who found it and brought it to you?”
He said, “Sir William Lucas was on his way home when he saw my carriage by the side of the road. The driver was missing and a wheel broken; my manservant was unconscious in the carriage. Dr. Wren attends him, but when I left them to come here he was yet unconscious.” He asked, “Where is Wenshurst? Do you know it?”
I nodded and said, “It is my home in London.”
He said, “Oh, yes. Of course I remember now. Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Pain filled my expression as I looked again at the familiar handwriting in the note, and I slowly nodded. He rasped, “So much for the forgiveness of boyhood friends, eh?”
I agreed, and then asked, “How long had the driver been in your employ?”
He winced and replied, “He came to us only last month. He was recommended by Colonel Forster.” I sighed heavily as I considered how to ask what I next desired to know. Fortunately, Mr. Bennet anticipated me. He said, “I wish I had locked Lydia in her room from the moment I told her she was not to go to Brighton until the moment the last dust of the regimental wagons had settled, but I did not. She met with Mrs. Forster the very next day and again yesterday. I am certain that she shared details of your visits to Longbourn and your interest there with her friend. I will ask her about it when I go home to pack.”
I remarked bitterly, “I fear that Colonel Forster is not much of a judge of character.”
Mr. Bennet replied, “I will lock up my remaining daughters now, I assure you.” To my horror he began to weep. “Not that it will do any good. Always too little, too late!” He shook his head, obviously overcome.
Bingley asked, “Has Mrs. Bennet been informed of the situation?”
Mr. Bennet was trembling as he moaned, “Oh, Fanny! I could not even speak after I read the note. I left her without explanation and only with that dotard Lucas to tell her the horrible truth! Her nerves may get the better of her after all, with such neglect.”
I suggested firmly, “It would be best if you go home and reassure her that all will turn out well.” I could see that like his wife, Mr. Bennet required firm counsel.
He asked in a broken tone, “Would you have me lie to her? Fifty thousand pounds? How is half such a sum to be raised?” His voice trailed off as he looked at me.
I replied succinctly, “I will send an express to my steward to begin work on that assignment at once. I suspect the express rider’s trustworthiness and know that my house will be watched. But my steward will be able to make arrangements to our advantage regardless of any impediment. The money means little to me in comparison to your daughters’ safety. Yet knowing who we are dealing with I have reason to hope we may recover them unharmed without satisfying his greed.” My hands were fists and there was murder in my heart.
Bingley asked, “You believe Mr. Wickham is behind this?” I nodded. He asked, “And why does that make it any more likely that they will not be harmed or that we will not have to pay him?” He jutted out his chin in a way that let me know he’d contribute his share regardless of any objection I might offer.
I replied, “George Wickham is greedy and fairly stupid. He leaves a trail a mile long, like a snail. He is counting on distress to render me ineffective and he is counting on your reputation as a harmless and naïve fellow. He underestimates gentlemen, us in particular. Unless he has made contact with some criminal mastermind in the countryside in the past few days, he is the one we must overcome. If we are willing to leave behind some of our own scruples…”
Bingley glowered, “I could kill him with my bare hands for this.”
I replied quietly, “And I would let you unless I had the chance to do it first.” I assured Mr. Bennet and Bingley, “But know that he places his comfort above all. With so much money at stake he will guard them carefully.” Mr. Bennet seemed comforted though Bingley hardly seemed to hear me, so enraged had he become. I did not voice my surest fear, that while the ladies would be returned to us they would not return untouched, particularly Elizabeth.
When we arrived at Wenshurt that afternoon I was not surprised to see my steward’s distress and concern. Nor was I surprised to find my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in my chambers. My steward had known from the wording of my message, and many years experience with me, that I wanted Fitzwilliam’s help. My cousin used secret ways to gain entry to the house, a very old one full of passages that make such behavior simple. Happily, Wickham’s experiences with my family had only allowed him entrance to this house once or twice. He did not know its secrets.
Fitzwilliam had been busy. He’d found that Mrs. Forster had gone missing and her husband was surreptitiously searching for her, not wishing to be known for the cuckold he was. While I bore Colonel Forster no ill will, his wife’s infidelity comforted me. If Mrs. Forster were involved in the kidnapping scheme, she might occupy time Wickham would otherwise spend with Elizabeth and Jane.
As I’d known he would, Fitzwilliam had acted on my behalf to employ men to investigate Wickham’s activities in London. There was obviously no better place for him to be hidden, but he was a lazy creature of habit and we both knew it likely that he would turn to old friends for assistance. His co-conspirator against Georgiana, a Mrs. Younge, was running a boarding house in one of London’s lesser neighborhoods. One of the men had called there already and would report to Fitzwilliam the next morning. The home of Wickham’s aunt, Livillia Sharp, was under surveillance. There were conflicting reports as to whether he had visited there. If he had, it had been but briefly. And a favorite former paramour, a Mrs. Hedrick, was being watched at the tavern where she served. I noted to myself that George had no male friends of long standing. Any men that were in on his scheme would be there for remuneration only, not from loyalty to him. And one thing I could certainly do was to offer them more money than he could. Fitzwilliam told me he would continued to gather information and would see me again in the morning.
Not eager to face the quiet of night, I went to check on Bingley. I found him cleaning his pistols. I recalled my conversation with Elizabeth about Bingley and remembered her questioning whether I was the better shot. Bingley is perhaps the best marksman I have ever known. Fitzwilliam has been asking for ages for the privilege of shooting against him, but the opportunity has not presented itself. I rarely bet, but I would put my money on Bingley. He is careless in many things, but utterly focused when he has a pistol in his hand. I first saw him one day at school, shooting. I was impressed by his mettle. When I later found him to be perhaps the most amiable friend one could have as well, I knew I’d been very fortunate to make his acquaintance. And of course in this situation he was utterly focused on his goal.
I asked how he was bearing up. He tried to offer a flippant reply, but could not. He said, “I will feel better when we can do something. I have asked my steward to gather funds as my part in the ransom, as I will not allow you bear the whole of it. My pistols are cleaned and balanced. I know I should rest. But my mind won’t let me. The worst possibilities come to mind when all is silent. Thoughts of Jane frightened, or being harmed…” He paced restlessly.
I nodded and said harshly, “It is enough to make a man run mad, I know. I dread the silence of my room too. But I know that he’s counting on that madness to leave us and them at his mercy.”
Bingley looked at me, more serious than I’d ever seen before. He said, “Nothing will distract me from assuring her safety if the opportunity presents itself.” I only nodded and bid him a good night.
Despite my efforts to urge Bingley to stave off the madness, I was its slave. As I lay down upon my bed, dread images and questions flowed through my mind. Was Elizabeth unharmed? Was she frightened? Had she fought her attackers and thus been hurt? Had Wickham or his cronies taken her innocence? Was her spirit wounded? In my mind’s eye, Wickham’s thugs included the gypsy men we’d seen on our journey to London. The man who’d so coveted her had her at his mercy.
When there was a knock at my door I gratefully leapt up to answer. My house man stood there, an expression of dismay on his face. He held a small package in his hand and offered it to me, saying, “Mr. Darcy, an urchin brought this just now. I would not have disturbed your rest, but the instructions were that you should be given it immediately, without fail.”
I opened the packet and gasped when two necklaces fell out. They both had garnet crosses, one larger than the other. The chain with the smaller cross, Elizabeth’s, was broken as though it had been ripped from her neck. I stared at it and held it carefully in my hand. I thanked the servant and dismissed him. As there was no writing on the packet I saw no reason to disturb the others with this ‘message.’ I laid Miss Bennet’s necklace on the dresser. Elizabeth’s remained clutched in my hand. Its broken condition made me consider what my reaction would be were Elizabeth defiled by her captors. I stared at it by the flicker of candlelight for the longest time, feeling rage and despair burn through me. After resolving to see it mended at first light, I fell to sleep with it clutched carefully against my heart.
Chapter 13
Posted on Tuesday, 4 April 2006
It was very early when I awoke. I started as I realized I was not alone. Fitzwilliam and another man had just entered my bedroom by way of the passage entrance in my closet. I felt the necklace still clutched tightly in my hand and gently laid it on the table by my bed. Then I forced remnants of nightmares from my thoughts and I sat up and rubbed my eyes, waiting to hear whatever the men might report.
Fitzwilliam began without preamble, “The boy who delivered a packet late in the night returned to the tavern where Mrs. Hedrick is currently employed. When bribed, he said it was given him by a gentleman who promised to pay him extra on his return, but that the gentleman had not kept his word.”
I rumbled, “Gentleman!” Were I not in my own room I might have spat my contempt.
Fitzwilliam’s companion said in a low tone, “Wickham is not staying at Mrs. Younge’s. She stays full up. Runs a nice place. She knows how to put on airs. It makes people want to stay there.”
I nodded as I remembered how I’d been deceived by her appearance of goodness; and then I asked, “Where is he staying?”
Fitzwilliam said in a clipped way, “Mrs. Younge has not responded to our inquiries as of yet.” His expression was one of disgust. I knew that his feelings about her part in the affair at Ramsgate were such that Mrs. Younge was the one woman in existence he’d ever considered violence against.
I asked incredulously, “You trust her not to let him know she has heard from you?”
Fitzwilliam growled, “I could not speak to that harridan without doing violence. Mitchell here is dealing with her, paying her silent. Her first concern is her own gain, as ever. She likely suspects he works for you, but has no confirmation. And as you know, we’re not the only ones searching for him. Colonel Forster has been unceasing in his efforts, clumsy and wildly done as they are.”
I looked at Mr. Mitchell and stood. I offered him my hand. He briefly looked surprised, but took it and allowed me to shake his hand, his face again expressionless. I said, “I will pay whatever I must for the information on where Wickham is residing.” He nodded. I asked, “Is Mrs. Forster still with him?” I looked away from the two men, ostensibly set on washing my face. Fitzwilliam knew me well enough to hear the tension in my voice, however. I splashed water over my face and grabbed a towel to wipe it dry.
Mitchell’s voice was rough, I thought, like gravel. He said, “There was a lady with him when he called at Mrs. Younge’s. Don’t know after that.”
I briefly, in my despair, considered the possibility that he’d rid himself of the woman so that he might better concentrate on his captives. But her presence lent him respectability, as no one knew they were unmarried. Keeping her with him made disguise easier. He was, after all, a deserter, and deserters are not so often seen to travel with others. Wickham was ever fond of the easy route. How I hoped he had not changed!
I pointed to the necklace on the dresser and the one on the table beside my bed. “The packet he sent had no written message, only those two necklaces.”
Fitzwilliam picked up the necklace on the dresser. “Is this Miss Bennet’s?” I nodded. He asked, “Is that one broken?” Again I nodded.
Inconsequentially I mentioned, “I will send Miss Elizabeth’s necklace to a jeweler for repair.” Fitzwilliam looked at me oddly then, with pity and something akin to understanding. I looked away, not wishing to reveal the depths of my despair. I changed the subject. “What of Mr. Hedrick? Is he still with his wife?” Fitzwilliam nodded. I pondered this. I remarked, “I am surprised that Wickham is playing his games so dangerously. He travels with his commanding officer’s wife, knowing that man seeks him for that and as a deserter. He flirts with the danger of a husband who knows he previously wronged him as he visits the wife. He has gone from mere bad behavior over to the crime of abduction.”
Mitchell cleared his throat and said, “Of course along with his Colonel’s wife, he got his fine, large carriage and a very fast team, too. That made transporting the ladies easier. And I even hear that the lady cleaned out her husband’s safe for travel funds. Forster’s out for blood.” He looked thoughtful and said, “This Wickham’s drunk with the possibility of so much coin, I think.”
I nodded. Accustomed as I was to my fortune I had never known what it was to want for money. The only thing I’d ever wanted as much as Wickham apparently desired money was Elizabeth’s love. I asked, “Anything else?”
Fitzwilliam said, “He’s not been seen at his aunt’s home since we began watching there. She may be out of town.”
I nodded slowly and said, “I thank you for your efforts. As to Mrs. Younge, I’d suggest you take the offensive by offering her a reasonably large sum, say five hundred pounds, for quick cooperation.” I saw Mitchell nod slowly as Fitzwilliam’s face registered surprise.
Mitchell said, “I will go now. I’ll see her later this morning and do as you ask.” He walked back to the closet and let himself out.
After he was gone, Fitzwilliam said, “Darcy, do not worry so. We are watching for him closely. All your men know that if he is seen with the Bennets he is to be detained and they are to be brought to safety. We are closing in on him.”
I only nodded, unable to make a reply. I wondered how Fitzwilliam would fare were the woman in danger the lady he loved. Finally I asked, “And if it were Miss Wright at his mercy?”
He looked at me thunderously, as he ever did when she was mentioned, and apologized yet still urged me to remain as calm as I could.
Breakfast with Bingley and Mr. Bennet was very dull. I shared Fitzwilliam’s information with them and soon we all returned to our silent ruminations. When we were alone I gave Bingley Miss Bennet’s necklace. I had the other sent to a jeweler for repair, with a request that the work be completed quickly. I hoped to put the necklace where it belonged very soon.
The day dragged slowly by as we waited. I saw the sun’s low position in the sky and began again to dread the night and nightmares. Dark thoughts were with me more and more with each passing moment. My steward reported that the ransom money was ready. He brought a large satchel with him, and several footmen as guards, when he came to the house. Soon after that, a report came that Wickham and Mrs. Forster were visiting his aunt’s house. They would be followed from there. I prayed that we would soon know where their captives were hidden.
About an hour later an urchin arrived at the door with a message. It read, “You are ready so soon with the ransom? Perhaps we’ve not asked enough. As I expect you wish proof that they are yet alive I have asked them to pen postscripts and date them. My next message will contain instructions for the exchange.” Below this was the date, written in two different hands, each with a short note.
One said, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil.” and was signed by Jane Bennet.
Mr. Bennet gasped, “Jane’s favorite verse. It’s from the book of Jeremiah.” Bingley stared at him.
The other read, “We love you.” and was signed by Elizabeth Bennet.
We all stared at the signatures as Mr. Bennet verified them authentic. I heard a soft knock on the passage door to the room. Mr. Bennet looked confused, but Bingley only watched me calmly. I closed the doors to the hallway and went to the passage door. Mr. Mitchell stood there, breathless. I asked, “What is it, Mitchell?”
He spoke quickly, “The note came from Mrs. Sharpe’s house in Hempshire Street. And just before I left to come here, that lady Mrs. Forster left the house.”
My blood ran cold. They were in that house and alone with Wickham. I turned to Bingley. “He is with them. Bring your pistols. Excuse me while I arm myself.” I nodded to Mr. Bennet. “We will have them with us shortly, sir.” I opened the doors and called for a servant to bring our horses immediately. We moved at a run as we gathered arms and left Wenshurt. Mitchell rode with us to guide us to our destination. I resolved that when this was over I would set him up very well indeed. My breath came quickly, fueled by the excitement of finally being released to activity and the terror of what might be happening in Hempshire Street.
Bingley was muttering something. I asked what he said and he replied, “'For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.' A future and a hope! That is how I have always read the 'expected end' mentioned in Jane’s verse." I only nodded in reply. For there were no thoughts of peace in me then; I would need to reconcile with my maker at a later time and hope that He forgave me at present.
I did not hesitate once Mitchell pointed out the place. We all dismounted and I ran to the door. Finding it locked, I stood back and kicked it with all my strength. Mitchell joined me. It gave way after the second blow. We ran, pistols drawn, to check every room. As I entered the kitchen I gasped at the shock of the cold from the open cellar. I saw Jane Bennet down in the cellar, bound and gagged, a lantern on the floor of the cellar lighting her features. In panic she motioned with her head and eyes upwards. I heard Bingley moan, “Angel!” as he saw his beloved. I turned and ran for the stairs in search of mine.
At the top of the stairs I saw that one door was closed. I ran to it and found it locked. This door gave way after one solid blow. Within, I stopped and stared. Elizabeth lay on the bed, bound and gagged as her sister had been, though the ropes around her legs had been loosened. Her gown was ripped in the front and Wickham kneeled over her, staring at me stupidly, his pants front opened. I pistol-whipped him with a harsh blow to the head. He reeled, nearly falling. I slammed his face with the pistol again, harder. Bones cracked and blood flew as he slammed against the wall and moaned, “Darcy?” He sounded nothing but surprised. I wasn’t sure whether it was more for my presence or the violence of which I was capable.
As he fell unconscious, I did not care. I carefully set my pistol aside and pulled the gag from Elizabeth’s mouth. She gasped and coughed. With my hands I wiped the tears from her face. I smoothed her skirt and removed my jacket and laid it over her while I worked on the ropes that bound her hands. The skin of her arms was raw where she’d struggled against the ropes. I finally used a knife to cut Elizabeth free and pulled her to me. She cried, “I had been so sure that you would come. Yet for a moment I thought I’d been wrong. And then you were here!”
I heard shouts from below. I replied, “I have her. She is well!” And then I returned my gaze to Elizabeth, hoping I spoke true. She nodded and clung to me. I held her close, feeling the increased pace of both our hearts. I kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you.”
I heard Mitchell’s raspy voice. He said, “I’ll have your carriage brought here, Mr. Darcy.” He turned and pushed past Mr. Bennet then.
I stared at Mr. Bennet, knowing full well that I ought to move away from his daughter, but unable to release her as yet. After a long moment I again kissed her forehead. I said, “Sweetheart, your father is here.” She stiffened against me, but did not release her hold. I accepted the handkerchief Mr. Bennet silently offered and gave it to Elizabeth so that she might dry her tears. Gently, I pulled back from her and stood. I saw Mr. Bennet taking in the details of the scene, Wickham unconscious by the wall and Elizabeth’s disheveled condition. There was fear in his eyes and he seemed unable to speak.
After a long moment and more than one attempt at beginning to speak, she finally said in a choked whisper, “Thank God you arrived when you did.”
Mr. Bennet then broke down into great, loud sobbing. Elizabeth reached for my hand. I clasped hers in mine. Tears began anew for her and I gently stroked her cheek with my free hand. I could see that we had indeed arrived just in time to prevent Wickham from fully violating Elizabeth. Yet I did not know what he had already done to her, other than that the bodice of her dress and chemise had been torn. I could not yet know what he’d said to her, how he’d touched her, how he’d damaged her innocence and passion, her spirit. Tears blurred my own eyes as I wished we had arrived even sooner. I finally voiced that thought, “I only wish I’d been here sooner, Elizabeth.”
She gently urged me aside, swung her legs off the bed and said in a tight fashion, “I wish to leave this room.” She turned away from us, stopping for a moment to stare at Wickham’s prone form, and she pulled my jacket on over her gown, buttoning it and arranging the fabric so that it better covered her. She wrapped her arms around herself, both for modesty’s sake and, I thought, to keep her composure. She said, “Please, Papa. Please don’t cry so. All will be well.” I was struck both by her strength and by the self sufficiency her father’s innate weakness forced from her. She avoided my gaze and walked slowly from the room. Her father grasped her shoulder and kissed her cheek. I heard her gasp and realized she’d been hurt. Blinding rage flared within me.
I asked in a shaken tone, “May I assist you down the steps, Miss Elizabeth?” She paused, but only shook her head without looking at me. Mr. Bennet walked ahead of her and began talking of the reports we’d received and the men I’d had canvassing the town for her. I saw her nodding as he talked, but wondered whether she heard his words. She moved gingerly, obviously in pain.
As we reached the kitchen she moved through the doorway and crossed quickly to Miss Bennet, who stood and pulled her close with a strangled cry. The two sisters clung to each other and cried together.
Elizabeth said, “Oh, Jane! You are so hot with fever. Sit. Do not waste your strength on me. You are unwell!” She fairly pushed Miss Bennet back to sitting. In the dim light of the room I saw that Miss Bennet did not look well. Her face was bruised and a bit bloodied, and she seemed wan and weakened.
Jane said, “Elizabeth, I was so frightened for you. Did he hurt you?”
Elizabeth’s tone was brittle as she replied, “He did me no lasting harm, dear sister. I will be well.” Her expression then was an enigma to me.
Jane cried, “But the awful things he said! The way he tore at you! The things he said he would do to you- and then to me!” I saw Bingley start.
Elizabeth put a finger to her sister’s lips and said soothingly, “Shh! Speak not of such things. Think not on what was said. We are safe now.” She kissed Jane’s cheek and knelt, holding to her tightly.
I found that I was shaking again with rage and a renewed sense of helplessness. It seemed that we’d waited an age for the opportunity to act and then that moment had passed, leaving me yet ready to do something useful. Suddenly there was a noise behind me and I turned to see that I faced the barrel of Wickham’s pistol.
Chapter 14
Posted on Thursday, 6 April 2006
While Wickham possessed the element of surprise, he was injured and not a very good shot to begin with. Bingley proved that he was not only the better shot, but of much faster reflex. The shot he’d thought of making over the past days was spent and Wickham fell, his own bullet sent wildly into the ceiling. As he hit the ground I saw that Bingley had hit him cleanly in the right shoulder. His arm would be rendered useless most likely, but the wound was not mortal unless we chose to leave him unattended, an idea which presented no little temptation to me. Bingley shoved me aside and took Wickham’s pistol and pocketed it. He searched Wickham and found another pistol inside his jacket and took that one, too. I apologized that I’d not thought to do the same before. Bingley only looked at me witheringly. Wickham was yet conscious, whimpering and crying. Suddenly Bingley jerked him up and slapped him full across the face as hard as he could. I heard the ladies gasp and Miss Bennet begin to cry again. Bingley hit Wickham again and we could all feel his rage building, not abating.
Both ladies stood. Miss Bennet cried, “Please, Charles! He only struck me once. Let God be his judge! Here on earth let him be accused and tried and punished for his crimes. Be not his executioner, my love.” He stared at her, breathing hard as he balanced her words against his rage. She added, “For my sake, do not fall to the temptation.”
Bingley slowly nodded and released his hold on Wickham. He asked Mr. Bennet to look around to see if there was any rope or something else that could be used to restrain Wickham until he could be handed over to the authorities. Mr. Bennet only stared, seemingly uncomprehending. Elizabeth pointed to where Wickham had left rope after he’d tied them up and Bingley, none too gently, tied Wickham in the same way he’d done the ladies. I saw that Elizabeth was right. Miss Bennet was not well. Apparently they’d been held in the root cellar, where it was very cold and damp. I closed the door to the cellar.
I saw Elizabeth sink onto the chair next to Jane, still holding to her. They whispered together, tears flowing. Mr. Bennet sat in the chair furthest from them and held his head in his hands. Bingley dragged Wickham to another room so that the ladies would not have to bear the sight of him. Blood stained the floor behind him. I stood and stared at Elizabeth, almost unable to believe that we were in the same room and that she was no longer in danger.
Finally, Mitchell returned. He notified me that my carriage awaited us. Bingley returned and walked past me. He gently urged Elizabeth back from her sister and picked Jane up in his arms. She protested weakly, but he did not heed her words. He merely kissed her cheek and whispered comfort to her. She was wracked by a harsh cough. Mr. Bennet pulled himself to his feet and followed them, mute and withdrawn. Elizabeth looked after Jane, almost as though unseeing. I said gently, “Elizabeth?”
Finally she turned her gaze to me. I could see from her expression that she was so accustomed to independence that she was unsure of how to behave in this circumstance. I realized that it was only in her sleep and on the edge of that vulnerable state that I’d seen her strongly react to the fear of what we’d faced before. I also saw that she would resent it were I to attempt what Bingley had just done. She and her sister were very different women. I bowed to her with formal respect and asked, “Miss Elizabeth, may I escort you to the carriage?” as I offered my arm. I was rewarded with a ghost of a smile as she silently accepted. I even felt her lean against me a bit and I helped her as she allowed. I resolved that my physician would see Elizabeth as soon as possible. Beyond that I knew not how to help.
The ladies were seated and the driver instructed to proceed with the utmost care. Mitchell sat on the outside of the carriage, gun out and primed, with Wickham lashed to the box beside him. Mr. Bennet sat between Bingley and the corner of the carriage, hunched and haggard. I fought against my impatient resentment of him as I thought of how I would act were Georgiana in the same state as this man’s daughters.
And I wondered if I were any better than Mr. Bennet. I had been careless of Wickham, so distracted had I allowed myself to become by Elizabeth’s distress. I had nearly paid for it with my life. I turned to Bingley and said, “Charles, I thank you for saving my life.”
Bingley looked self conscious, but nodded his acceptance and said, “Think nothing of it. I know you would have done the same for me.” I smiled grimly as I nodded acknowledgment of that truth.
Mr. Bennet managed to murmur, “Yes. Fine, strong men, unlike the girls’ father.”
I was deeply embarrassed and knew not how to reply. I realized that typically in such a moment one of Mr. Bennet’s daughters would have exerted herself to fill the silence and smooth over the awkwardness. Neither was able now, understandably. Finally, I offered, “You are too hard on yourself, sir. Rough confrontation is a younger man’s province.”
He looked at me oddly and shrugged, saying, “Yes, well…”
The sun was nearly gone now. I was desperately relieved that the ladies were out of harm’s way and I would not face another night of fearful imaginings. Yet as I looked over at Elizabeth, her drawn face now in shadow, I wondered when I would learn what had befallen her and how I could be of help.
When we reached Wenshurst House I said, “There are rooms prepared for you, ladies.”
Mr. Bennet roused himself enough to say, “We ought to stay with my brother Gardiner and not trouble you, Mr. Darcy.”
I dissented, “It is no trouble, Mr. Bennet. You are already settled here, and it would not be good to move the ladies further. I have access to the best of physicians and will have him here shortly to attend them. There is plenty of room for all of you to rest very comfortably. Please, I beg you to accept my hospitality.”
Elizabeth spoke quietly, “I have no need of a physician.”
I was stunned silent for a second, but responded fervently, “You have been through an ordeal, Miss Elizabeth, kept in unwholesome conditions and treated roughly. Even if he only is able to assist you by offering something that might aid your rest, I would feel remiss if I did not make my physician available to you.” While I did not wish to provoke, I was immovable on this subject.
Jane rasped, “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I should be grateful for such attention and I’m certain that Elizabeth will humor me when I request that she see your physician as well.” In the darkness I could only see Elizabeth’s profile as she turned to look at her sister, but I could well imagine her defiant expression. Also through the dim light I could see that the sisters clutched each other’s hands.
I assured them, “I will see that you are given rooms that are close together.”
Elizabeth replied softly, “Thank you.”
I could not resist the temptation. I replied, “I am at your service.” She did not respond. I thought a moment later that I saw her wipe a tear from her cheek.
I had Bingley and Mr. Bennet take the ladies inside, guided by Mrs. Windham. I conferred with Mitchell as to what was to be done with Wickham. Wickham moaned and whimpered in pain from his wounds. I longed to pull him down from the carriage and beat him until he wailed, and hardly dared looked at him lest I give in to provocation. As we talked I saw a man approaching on horseback. It was Colonel Forster. I greeted him. He called out, “Good evening, Mr. Darcy. I heard about the abduction and wished to see where your house was so that I might call here tomorrow and offer my services.”
I stepped forward and said, “I thank you, Colonel Forster. That is most kind. However, we have found Lieutenant Wickham and the Bennet ladies. They are safely within my house now.”
He stared at me for a moment. Then he asked, “And what of Wickham?”
I gestured to the back of the coach, where Wickham sat, and said, “We have sent for the constable. He will be charged. I imagine they will want your testimony about his desertion from your regiment.” My voice trailed off as I looked at the Colonel. His expression was inscrutable. He moved his horse so that he could see Wickham and drew and cocked his pistol as he stated tersely, “As you say, the lieutenant is a deserter, therefore subject to military authority. I will take charge of him now and hand him over to the Provost Marshal.” Turning to face Wickham, he asked, “And what of my wife, Lieutenant?”
Wickham looked at his Colonel with evident contempt, and was not smart enough to keep his silence. Surly and foolish as ever, he snarled, “I thank you for the pleasure, Colonel!”
Colonel Forster shot. Unlike Bingley, he did not aim to wound. I could see instantly that Wickham was dead. I was stunned. Mitchell held out his hand and said, “Please lower your weapon and hand it over, Colonel. We will wait with you for the constable. Hopefully he will hear your extenuating circumstances with some measure of understanding. Your wife stays in a boarding house in Weatherton Place, according to information we bought. We can have her brought to you.” Colonel Forster shook his head, turned his horse away and rode off at a gallop.
I looked at Wickham. Wishing someone ill and seeing them murdered are two different things, yet I could not regret anything but the potential he’d squandered. When younger, he’d seemed so credible and so good that my father had believed him destined for the church, had loved him. I was glad my father had not lived to see how his favorite had turned out. His disappointment in the turn of events would have been far more considerable than my own. Without another word, I went into the house.
Inside, Bingley asked, “Was that gunfire? What happened?”
I knew I must look shocked. I replied, “Colonel Forster found us. He killed Wickham.”
Bingley nodded slowly. I paused to ask that my physician be summoned for the ladies. We walked together to the salon. Mr. Bennet stood near the doorway. His voice shaken, he asked, “What was that noise?”
I looked at Elizabeth as I replied, “Colonel Forster called. I’m afraid that the sight of Wickham… well…”
Elizabeth asked, “Is he dead?” I nodded. She nodded too and said nothing else. She left her sister’s side and moved to the window to look out at the gardens.
Jane coughed and said, “Oh, poor man! Colonel Forster must have been driven mad by his wife’s betrayal.”
Bingley and I exchanged a look of rueful understanding. I returned my gaze to Elizabeth, standing apart from us with her arms wrapped tightly about her body. Mrs. Windham entered the room with a tray of food and drinks. Both Jane and Elizabeth were obviously needful of refreshment. I saw Elizabeth take a cup of warm milk and hold it between her hands to warm them. She slowly ate the good biscuits. Jane murmured, “How I longed for good food!”
I asked, “When did you last eat?” The sisters glanced at each other and did not answer. My dismay showed as I conjectured, “You have not eaten since you were abducted?”
It was as though the fury came over me in waves. I was almost disappointed that Wickham now lay dead. I wished I’d taken the chance to harm him more. And then I felt exhaustion at the thought. I wished to weep from relief that Elizabeth and her sister were at last here with us, safe. I also wished to take her in my arms and hold her. I felt sympathy with Mr. Bennet as he sat and stared at his daughters, tears in his eyes.
I spoke nervously, “I will see to it that refreshment is brought to your rooms that you might partake if you awake hungry or thirsty during the night. Your every need, and whim, will be met. If you wish anything at any time you may call on the staff. They will be more than happy to assist, regardless of the hour.” Miss Bennet thanked me. Elizabeth only looked at me. I could not fathom her expression and it unbalanced me.
Dr. Crain arrived. He’d been the Darcy family physician nigh thirty years, always an imposing figure to me. He was a man of few words, but very learned. I respected his dedication to his craft, his interest in new methods, and his lack of pretense. He spent time with each of the ladies, first Miss Bennet and then Elizabeth. Mrs. Windham accompanied him and took note of his recommendations.
After he left Miss Bennet and while he was taking refreshment before seeing Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Windham notified me that he’d recommended that Miss Bennet not be moved. He’d indicated that she was of delicate constitution, prone to infections such as the one which gripped her at the moment. With peace and quiet, rest, good nourishment, his medicines and his continued attention she would be well again soon, he thought.
I paced my study as he met with Elizabeth, anxious to hear his report. Though I was not her family, I was his employer, and he would report first to me. I noted that he came to me himself and did not allow Mrs. Windham to make his report. He tersely said, “Though abused, Miss Elizabeth was not violated, sir. Yet had you arrived even a moment later that would be different. She would not tell me much, but her wounds speak the story.” I sat and indicated for him to do the same. I did not trust my legs to support me through what he would say next. In clinical and cold language he detailed bruises, cuts and bite wounds. His words traced the path of Wickham’s infamy across Elizabeth’s body. He talked quietly and sought to avoid inflammatory description, but as he spoke of the finger-shaped bruise marks on Elizabeth’s knees I closed my eyes. I recalled the scene when I’d entered the room. He’d knelt over her and his hands had been at her knees. She’d admitted that in the moment just before I arrived she’d given up hope that I would be there for her. The doctor anticipated my reaction and held a waste receptacle before me as I began to vomit.
I sat there, head reeling, knowing how near Wickham had been to ruining her, how he’d degraded her. All I could think of was her feelings, her terror. As through a fog I could hear Dr. Crain saying, “The rogue’s intentions to cause you harm were thwarted.” His assumption, logical by the standard of most, was infuriating to me.
I rasped, “I am not concerned with harm meant me, sir.”
He handed me a drink and said no more. He nodded approvingly, I thought, and said, “I will remain here for the night, sir. I have given the young ladies each a sleeping draught. I will attend them again in the morning, if it pleases you.” I nodded and swallowed some of the drink.
I asked, “Would you be so kind as to give a general report on the health of both ladies to their father. Mr. Bennet awaits you in the library. A very general report will do. It is not necessary to detail injuries, Miss Elizabeth’s in particular.”
He nodded and bowed to me and left. I finished the drink. I then completed the message I’d held and gave it to a servant for express post to Longbourn. I would see that Mrs. Bennet’s anxieties were relieved, as best I could and as quickly as possible. A separate message was sent to Gracechurch St. Unfit to see anyone at present, I went to my chamber. As I passed Elizabeth’s room, I heard her door being locked from the inside. I frowned as I considered her state of mind.
Once in my rooms, I gratefully sank into the bath my valet had prepared. I saw blood on my arm as I began to wash, Wickham’s blood I supposed. I scrubbed my arms thoroughly, rinsed and scrubbed again. As enjoyable as it was to get clean, the day’s events ran through my minds, along with the doctor’s report. I dressed for bed, but sat by the fire instead of climbing beneath the covers. I could not concentrate to read, yet I could not stop thinking of all that had happened. While the earlier part of the day had passed uneventfully, the late afternoon and evening contained much that agitated. I kept thinking of Elizabeth, how withdrawn and alone she’d seemed.
Finally, I admitted the truth to myself. I would not sleep until I had seen that she slept, that she was peaceful. I hoped that she had taken the sleeping draught Crain had prepared, but I knew not. Until I knew that she felt safe I could not rest. I changed into trousers and a shirt. Then I went through the passage door in my closet, candle in hand for illumination. I knew the passages well, having spent many hours in them as a child playing my games of pretend. I also knew which room Elizabeth had been given. The passage entrance came into the room alongside the fireplace. I quietly eased the door open. I peered into the room and found that Elizabeth was sitting close by the fire on the loveseat, staring at me with look of fright. She wore a sleeping gown and a shawl. Her hair was loose about her shoulders. One foot was tucked beneath her.
I whispered, “Please, do not be afraid. I am sorry to intrude on your privacy. I hoped to assure myself that you slept and were well. I am very sorry.” I bowed and started to close the door and leave.
She looked at me strangely, but said, “Please, come in.” She looked nonplussed and said, “I am uncertain of the proper etiquette where secret passages are concerned.”
I grinned ruefully and admitted, “Secret passage etiquette lessons were attempted with me as a child, the main lesson being to avoid their use, but I regret to say that I failed them rather spectacularly. I have always found the passages too tempting.” Her faint smile was at odds with the sadness in her eyes. I stepped into the room and closed the passage door. I asked, “Are you well? Is there anything I can do for you?”
She looked at me oddly, but only replied, “I would like it if you would sit with me, if it is not an imposition.”
I moved to the seat next to her and sat down gingerly. I did not want to carelessly harm or frighten her. I could not keep the list of her wounds from repetition in my thoughts. I shifted away that I would not inadvertently touch the bruises on her left thigh, next to me. I shifted my eyes that she would not see me noticing the bruises visible at the neckline of her gown. I was silent as my thoughts raced.
After a moment I saw her wipe a tear from her cheek. Concerned, I asked, “Elizabeth?”
She glanced at me and then turned away, saying, “You confirm my expectation that you can bear the sight of me no longer. I do not hold you to blame, sir. Recent events were too awful not to have a profound effect. You cherished an… innocence… I no longer possess. Please go.” And she burst into tears.
I shook my head vigorously and then realized she did not see me. I spoke in a low tone. “Elizabeth, when he sent your broken necklace it caused me to consider what you speak of now. And I realized that while I would be deeply anguished and furious were Wickham to harm you and… take your innocence, my hatred of him pales in comparison with my love for you.” I paused and swallowed hard. Heartbroken, I rasped, “I thought I had gotten there in time to prevent him…” Now my tears came. “I am sorry that I failed you.”
She was quiet, though her breathing came quickly. She said, “No. You did not fail me. You did prevent… his attempt. But he did other things to me… kissed me… touched me… spoke to me… in ways that were… abhorrent.” Her voice grew softer with each word.
I admitted slowly, “I know much of what was done.”
She asked with puzzled dismay, “How could you?”
I explained, “At my request, Dr. Crain told me of your wounds.”
She looked offended and embarrassed. “That was an invasion of my privacy, Mr. Darcy!” Her face was red with resentment.
I started to speak and then stopped. I could offer no excuse. I hesitated and said, “I apologize.”
She closed her eyes and sat back. Finally she asked, “Why did you come to me?”
I replied, “I love you and I want you to be well. I want to be near you.”
I saw that there were tears in her eyes again. She sat unmoving for a very long time. Finally, she asked, “Will you hold me?” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, utterly thankful that she wanted what I so desperately needed. She lay much as she had that day in the woods, first leaning sideways against me, then allowing me to cradle her in my arms. I heard her hiss in pain as a bruise on her upper arm pressed against me. She turned towards me and folded one arm so that her hand pressed against my chest. I leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. After a time, I felt her relax and heard her breathing change. I dozed some too. A long time later, I carefully stood with her cradled against me and went to lay her down on her bed. As I pulled my arms out from under her so I could stand and back away, she woke with a start, pushing at me and fighting as for her life.
I choked out, “Elizabeth! It is Will. You are safe!” I stood back from her.
She stilled and rolled to face away from me, shaken with silent sobs. I stayed utterly still, not knowing what I could do for her. She began to speak, “I could not fall to sleep here earlier, thinking of this afternoon. Somehow as I was at the edge of sleep, my mind could not escape it.”
I suggested, “Perhaps you should take the sleeping draught the doctor left.”
She shook her head and shuddered, “And be unable to awaken from my nightmares?”
I asked, “Do you often have nightmares?”
She nodded and said, “I dream almost every night. Whether nightmare or pleasant dream, I have exceedingly vivid images in my mind at night. Do you dream?” She rolled back to look at me.
I smiled slightly and dared, “Most of my vivid and pleasant dreams are of you.”
She managed a pert reply, “Only most?” Then her smile faded and she again turned from me.
I was confused by this, so I offered the plain truth. “Sometimes I dream that I am flying or that I am a child again. You are not in those dreams. But, more often, I dream that we are alone together.” She let out a choked sob that seemed mixed with a laugh. I spoke more quietly, “I realize that I have been very selfish today. I feared you’d not tell me what had happened, so I had the doctor do so. I hoped you might need me tonight, so I invaded the privacy of your room. I apologize.”
She rolled on to her back and looked at me, her expression inscrutable. “Are you sorry you came to me?”
I frowned slightly as I confessed, “Only if it pains you. I am glad of any time I spend with you. As I said, I’m rather selfish where you are concerned. Because I already feel wedded to you in my heart I act as though I have a right to be alone with you like this. My behavior merits severe reproach and yet I cannot truly regret it.”
She wiped tears from her cheeks and said, “I am glad you are here.” She looked at me for a long moment. Then she said, “I sometimes dream of flying, or rather of being able to make astonishing leaps and bounds that are like flight.”
I asked, “Do you ever dream of being a child again? Of being held by your mother?”
She said slowly, “No; but perhaps I take my mother for granted since I still have her.”
I nodded and said, “I suppose that is possible.”
She paused and then asked, “Will you hold me again or do I ask too much?”
I was puzzled by her attitude as I replied, “I would be delighted. I only brought you to the bed because I thought it would do you well to rest there. I thought you might benefit from a long period of sleep.” I started to return to the love seat, expecting her to go with me.
She said, “I would like to lay here.” I stopped and stared at her. She laughed slightly and said, “Oh, dear. I have shocked you.” I shook my head as I slowly walked back to the bed, as though in a dream. She moved over and I gingerly lay next to her. She moved so that she lay against my side, her head resting on my chest. I felt her breath against my neck and I closed my eyes against the sweet sensations. I could feel the softness of her body as she nestled against me. I was suddenly very aware of her femininity and of the desire I had long felt for her. She leaned up to whisper, “Your heart is pounding very quickly.” Her breath tickled my neck and ear most pleasantly.
I groaned aloud. In a slightly strangled tone I replied, “I should think so.” I remained completely still with my eyes closed. I felt her move one leg up over mine and I barely stifled a whimper of desire. I was determined not to behave in a manner which would betray my lurid feelings for her, not on the heels of what she’d experienced earlier in the day. I could not believe that she would wish to know what I was thinking. I managed to ask, “Are you comfortable?” She snuggled a bit closer and I bit the inside of my cheek to distract myself from the pleasure of being so close to her. Finally I opened my eyes.
I saw that her eyes twinkled with delight. I was completely perplexed. She blushed as she saw my expression and laughed, “You may well wonder at my delight, I think. I am only happy to find that you are behaving as a gentleman, and a loving one at that. I feared… well it is enough to say that I feared otherwise.” And with that she sweetly kissed my cheek and pulled back slightly, still close to me, but not so intimately entwined. Again I felt her begin to relax. I realized that she was exhausted and truly that I was, too. I allowed myself the luxury of lightly stroking her back. After a few moments she wearily leaned up and kissed my lips. I gently returned her kiss and caressed her cheek tenderly. She whispered, “Good night, my love.”
I smiled and replied, “Good night, my love.”
Chapter 15
Posted on Thursday, 13 April 2006
Though I was exhausted in both mind and body, I could not entirely escape the horrors of the day. In my dreams I was in Hempshire Street but I could not open the door to the upstairs room. I heard screams and cries within, but could not reach her. Then the door opened and I cried out in horror at the sight of him hurting Elizabeth. Wickham was dead, yet not dead, a true creature of nightmare.
Suddenly I was aware that Elizabeth was trying to wake me, leaning over me and calling to me softly as she shook me by the shoulder. I heard my cry of “No!” as I became conscious of my surroundings. My breath came fast and without thought I pulled her to me tightly and cried, “Oh, thank God you are safe!” I heard her gasp and quickly released her, saying urgently, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”
She lay beside me and after a moment replied, “No, I am well enough.”
I threw off the covers and walked back and forth before the fire as my heartbeat began to slow to its normal pace. I breathed deeply as I sought to quell my sense of agitation. I turned to see her watching me intently and swallowed hard before saying, “I am sorry.”
She smiled slightly as she sat up and urged, “Come back to bed.” I sat on the edge of the bed and willed the dark thoughts from my mind. She urged me to lie beside her and smoothed the covers over me and kissed my cheek. Then she lay against me and lightly stroked my hair.
Guiltily impatient with myself, I said, “I only imagined an ordeal. You lived one. I should be the one to offer you comfort!”
She shook her head and kissed me. “We should comfort one another, Will.” I relaxed and sighed with pleasure at her touch. Every so often she kissed my cheek or my head. Desire for more from her simmered within me, but I stayed still. After a while I started to pull her to me more tightly, but hesitated for fear of aggravating her wounds. She kissed my lips and said, “I would like for you to hold me, too. Trust me to let you know if I am uncomfortable.” I nodded sleepily and carefully did as she asked. I heard her murmuring, “All is well. All is well.” Awash in the comfort of her soothing gestures and the great pleasure of her nearness I finally slept again.
As light began to fill the room I awoke aware that I was not in my bed and that Elizabeth lay curled against me, an intoxicating state of affairs. I hoped not to awaken her, but as I pulled away her eyes opened. For a brief moment she looked confused, but then she smiled at me and said, “Good morning.”
I kissed her lightly and said, “I hope you will rest longer. I must leave your chamber before I am missed in my own or someone comes to check on you.” I stood and moved away from the bed.
She commented, “My door is locked.”
I said, “I know. I passed as you locked it last night. I realized then that you were yet fearful.” She only nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. I bowed to her and said, “I will see you shortly. Good morning.” I made my way to the passage.
When I entered my room I was displeased to find Fitzwilliam asleep on the chaise before the fire. I considered pretending that I’d entered long before and slept in my own bed, but I abhor disguise of any sort. I walked past him and sat on a chair. He roused and asked, “Dare I ask where you have been?”
I looked at him with a wry expression and said, “I would prefer you not do so. I hope you realize it is no longer necessary for you to skulk about the house through secret byways. You may enter through regular doors and traverse common hallways.” My words were spoken sarcastically.
He smiled and said teasingly, “I would miss out on so much of interest that way!”
I smiled slightly and said, “I am disposed to be indulgent with you for your good services of the past few days and in hopes of maintaining your discretion.” As I sipped some water I offered with a grimace, “You are not noted for your discretion, however.”
He chuckled, “No, but the knowledge I now possess is not of the kind to slip into polite conversation, the method by which my most serious transgressions most often occur. Even I am not so indiscreet as to ask Mr. Bennet if he cares to know where you spent the night…” He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Then he asked, “I hope Miss Elizabeth is well?”
I sighed and shook my head, “She is not truly well, Cousin. She was greatly wronged. Not so badly as if I’d arrived any later, but greatly wronged all the same. I have the feeling that Wickham used his most practiced talent of all, mixing truth and lies in words he spoke to her. There are questions she is not asking of me, yet bits and pieces of suspicion and fear are coming to light. He has again given me much to overcome, I think.”
He nodded and said, “He was a snake, the vile wretch.”
I rubbed my eyes and said, “Then you know of his death.”
He nodded slowly and then said laughingly, “I did not spend the night in sleep’s sweet embrace.” I glared at him. He smiled and informed me, “The driver who conspired with him was brought to justice. Those who knew of his past actions were not surprised by his current complicity.”
I said, “Oh! That is why you are here.”
He explained, “I did not think you would want some things spoken of in front of your guests.”
I agreed and asked, “What of Mrs. Forster?”
“Her husband found her before we arrived,” he replied. “She is gone. I know not what will become of them, but suspect he will flee abroad. She is perhaps better off with him than alone, but perhaps not.”
I was silent for a time. Finally I said, “I owe you more than I can ever repay, Fitzwilliam. You, in your thoroughness, saw to it that the Sharpe house was watched and that action averted tragedy. Thank you for your help.”
He was serious as he said, “You are welcome. I am glad that things turned out well.” He looked a bit dismayed as he continued, “I must insist that you be more of a gentleman where the lady is concerned, however. You are not even engaged!”
I chuckled, “Not for want of effort, I assure you.”
He asked, “Have you proposed?”
I sidestepped his question and replied, “I had asked for, and been promised, a private interview the day she disappeared.”
He was quiet for a moment. He admitted, “I am envious. She is delightful. If I were not a second son…”
I said sharply, “If you were not a second son you would already be married.”
He smiled sadly and said, “I will allow the likelihood of that.” We both thought of the lady who possessed his heart. Miss Victoria Wright, a lady not yet twenty years of age, had entered Fitzwilliam’s life two seasons past. She possessed a modest dowry, not enough for her father to allow her to wed a man with little more to offer than a military income. And her father’s ill health prevented her from being out much these days, much less of a mind to defy him.
I continued, “And were you not, I would fight any inclination you showed towards Elizabeth with all my being. She is meant for me, I swear it. I thought before that I cared for her, but it has only been since our time together on the road from Kent that I even knew what it was to love. I was but a selfish being before that. She has awakened my heart more fully than I’d ever known possible.”
He groaned, “Oh! Darcy you are in a deplorable state. You’ll be no fun to be around from now on, ever mooning after your lady or happily besotted with the pleasure of her presence. You must ask again for that private interview, and soon.”
I admitted, “I wish it had already taken place. But I will not place my needs ahead of hers. She has been through a frightening ordeal. She must heal. Trust me, though, that when I know she will hear me I will declare myself and beg for her hand.”
He looked a bit skeptical as he asked, “Beg?”
I replied wryly, “Grovel, if need be.”
He shook his head and said, “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be so far fallen. I may be ill!”
I laughed at him and said, “Was there anything else or may I prepare for the day?”
He said, “I will remain here at Wenshurst despite your sad state. My mother has been matchmaking again and I’ll have none of it. I will not return to the house until the very wealthy young lady in question has returned home with her family.”
I said, “You are welcome for as long as need be. And I will endeavor not to sicken you with my delight in my lady.” I took another sip of water. “What do you find so objectionable about the young lady your mother likes for you?” I left unsaid the fact that she was obviously not his Miss Wright.
He said, “Horrible breath, unintelligent and lacking in charm. I’m better off here. Fear not. I shall take amusement in laughing at you. You have always been so proud that you were never hit by Cupid’s bolt that I must now delight in your downfall.”
I then prepared for the day, directing my valet to take care with my appearance. I wished to appear at my best.
When I entered the breakfast room I found Elizabeth at table with her father. I bid them both good morning and then said, “I had hoped you would rest most of the day, Miss Elizabeth.”
She only shook her head. Then she said, “Please do not think my restlessness reflects ill on your hospitality, Mr. Darcy. I fear that my mind still races with the alarm of recent events.” She blushed as she admitted this last.
Mr. Bennet said carelessly, “I hope you will not be silly in the example of your mother, child.” Elizabeth stiffened slightly
I struggled not to look at the man with disbelief at his unfeeling reaction. I said, “I am sorry that is true, Miss Elizabeth. It is easy to understand.” She would not meet my eyes.
Fitzwilliam joined us then. He was welcomed heartily by Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth seemed happy to see him again and thanked him for his help. Bingley joined us next. He immediately asked for an update on Miss Bennet’s condition. As the gentlemen talked together I saw that Elizabeth was again withdrawing from conversation, almost brooding. I could not have imagined such a sight but for its appearance before my eyes.
When the house man announced Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner I was pleased by the delight on Elizabeth’s face. I regarded the pair with curiosity and was happy to find them as sensible and pleasant as any people I’d ever met. Mr. Gardiner was solicitous of Elizabeth without showing her any disrespect. Mrs. Gardiner was warm and amiable to us all. I had great hope that they, especially Mrs. Gardiner, might be able to give comfort to their niece.
Elizabeth took Mrs. Gardiner up to visit Miss Bennet. After a while we were informed that Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth would take refreshment together in the upstairs parlor and would not join us for some time. Mr. Bennet made yet another dismissive comment on female nerves that incensed me. I walked over to the window and looked out at the gardens, breathing in and out slowly to regain my sense of calm. Mr. Gardiner came and joined me, commenting, “What a wonderful aspect! I offer my admiration of your gardens, sir. Indeed, Wenshurst House as a whole is a gem. I’ve long wished to see it inside. I am glad for the chance to do so.”
I nodded my appreciation and said, “Thank you, sir. If you please, I could offer you a tour.”
He smiled and said, “I would be honored. You need not go to such trouble yourself. A servant will do well enough for me.”
I assured him, “It would be no trouble. I am proud of Wenshurst and glad for the opportunity to share it with one who has such interest.”
As we walked together and talked I was amazed that he could be related by blood to Mrs. Bennet. I was not at all surprised to find him related to Miss Bennet or Elizabeth, however. I realized that he and his wife must have had a hand in forming the wonderful ladies those two had become. He was a man of sense and education, kind and genial too. As we reached the privacy of my billiard room he said, “I apologize for my brother Bennet. He tends toward more sarcastic and wry comments than ever when disturbed. You must allow that the events of the past several days have left him much so.”
I paused and replied, “I understand that he feels deeply for his daughters and was sick with worry for them. I saw evidence of such again and again. Still, it is hard to see how his comments embarrass and give pain. I have the utmost admiration and respect for Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Gardiner smiled congenially, “I understand your feelings, sir. Elizabeth has long been a favorite of my heart. As you honor her, please remember that she is very fond of her father. It is safe to say that she is his favorite child and aware of the fact. I think that when he demonstrates his sarcastic wit or natural insouciance she is most hurt as she thinks it a failing on her part, as though she ought to be able to rouse him to better. Elizabeth takes a great deal upon herself.”
I was silent for some time, but for minimal descriptions of several rooms and features of the house. Finally I said, “Thank you, sir. I had not thought of Miss Elizabeth’s relationship with her father in such a way. I allow my own concern to blind me. A fresh perspective is helpful.”
He looked at me seriously. “Mr. Darcy, you obviously care a great deal about my niece. You have assisted her in difficult circumstance, both now and during your journey from Kent. Moreover, I can see it in your interactions with her. I understand that you began courting her recently. After meeting you I am pleased by that fact. Elizabeth is not a simple girl. She is witty and she is independent. Her circumstances have formed her so. I do not presume to know more than I do, about her or anyone else. But I know that I have always hoped she would find someone who would value not only her safety, but her spirit as well.”
I paused to consider my response. Finally I said, “Her spirit is the quality that first drew me to her. If she will allow me to, I will do all in my power to nurture it. I promise you.”
Mr. Gardiner looked embarrassed and said, “I am sorry. I should not presume to her father’s place.”
As I thought it well that someone do so, I only looked down and then murmured, “My promise stands, sir.” He nodded his acceptance and we continued our exploration of Wenshurst House. As we neared the upstairs parlor I pointed to the entrance, but moved away, noting, “We do well to give the ladies their privacy.”
As we went down the hallway, he stopped suddenly and moved back. I saw him excitedly examining a crack in the wall. He asked, “Is it true then? Is there a network of hidden passageways? I thought I heard Colonel Fitzwilliam mention that earlier.” I smiled and pressed the mechanism that opened that door.
My reply echoed off the wall of the passage before us, “The house was built in the days of Mary Tudor. As my ancestors had adopted the then ‘new faith’ of the Church of England some measures of extra security were deemed necessary.”
He asked, “Are these burn marks?” I replied that they were and spoke of the fires that had laid claim to parts of the house over the centuries. He peered into the dark passageway. I called for a servant to bring us candles. Then I handed one to Mr. Gardiner and kept one for myself. I continued detailing the history of the house as we made our way.
I could hear the faint sound of feminine voices and wondered greatly what Elizabeth was confiding to her aunt, but again I led Mr. Gardiner away from the upstairs parlor. Instead I took him out the passage entrance by a guest room just beyond those occupied currently. As I entered the hallway I saw Bingley furtively leaving Miss Bennet’s room. I prevented Mr. Gardiner from seeing this by turning his attention back to the torch holders along the passage walls, telling him of how one might mark their progress through the house by counting the torches. I backed out of the passage into the hallway as Mr. Gardiner commented on the passages. Bingley now came towards me. I looked at him with apparent anger. He whispered, “If I had known a more clandestine way…”
I finished his phrase, “Then you would have been caught by us for certain.” He looked annoyed.
Mr. Gardiner exited the passage. He said, “Mr. Bingley! Mr. Darcy was just showing me the inner workings of this fine house. Have you toured the hidden passages? He tells me that they date back to the time of Mary Tudor.”
Bingley looked at me with thinly veiled annoyance. “Darcy has not shown me the passages. I knew that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy’s servant Mitchell had a way to conceal their entrance to the house and gain access to Darcy without anyone being the wiser, but no details.” He looked petulant and I nearly laughed. I could certainly understand that he desired a way to spend time with Miss Bennet away from the scrutiny of others. I did not look at Mr. Gardiner in that moment, suspecting that he understood as well.
I promised, “I will show you now, if you wish it, Bingley.” He followed us back into the passage and under the interested eye of Mr. Gardiner, I awkwardly tutored Bingley on the mechanisms and navigation of the passages, explaining how one might use the torches to verify their position.
On returning to the salon, we found that Elizabeth and her aunt had rejoined the party. Elizabeth still seemed a bit withdrawn, but more weary than brooding now. I thought that she had been crying. I studied her carefully, wishing I could speak with her privately immediately and more than anything wishing that I could cause her to smile and laugh. I felt her aunt’s gaze on me and turned to that lady questioningly. She smiled kindly.
Mr. Gardiner told the others of the tour I’d given. I saw Elizabeth looking at him with interest as he spoke of the passages. Mr. Bennet joined in the discussion by relating stories he’d read of the terror of Mary Tudor’s bloody reign. He was not an admirer of any of that ‘monstrous regiment of women’ as Knox had described the times when England was ruled by Tudor queens and Scotland by the Stuart queen. I queried him as to his opinions of the accomplishments of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, the developments in theater and literature and economics and our stature as a world power. Yet he maintained a fierce opposition to the authority of women over men, citing scripture as found in the New Testament book of First Timothy.
I did not share his literal interpretation or his dogmatic opinions of female authority, but declined to enter into violent disagreement. I was conscious of Elizabeth’s attention to the discussion. When I caught her eye I was rewarded with a slight smile.
That night when I came to her chamber I found her sitting before the fire again. This night she wore a robe, securely belted at the waist, and her hair was neatly braided and tied. As I entered the room, she stood and walked over to the door to the hallway and locked it. I bowed to her as she turned to face me. Her expression was welcoming. She approached and spoke in a low tone, “I became more conscious of the impropriety of this practice as I spoke with my aunt today, Mr. Darcy.”
I nodded and asked, “Do you wish for me to leave?”
She shook her head and sat. I gingerly moved beside her and sat as well. She pulled a blanket over her legs and ate and drank from the tray of food I’d had left for her. She offered me a pastry and I accepted. Finally, she said, “There are things I ask you to hear tonight, things that are difficult for me to relate.”
My voice was thick with emotion as I said, “I thank you for your confidence in me.” I set the pastry aside, any desire for food gone.
When she glanced at me then I saw tears brightening her eyes. Quickly she turned her gaze back to the fire. I looked at her intently. She said, “We had no idea how long we had been in the cellar. I felt Jane shaking with chills, yet could tell she burned with fever as well. For most of the time we sat in darkness, my fear was for her.” She shifted slightly so that her shoulder touched my arm. I could feel her shaking as she spoke. She continued, “But when Wickham came to us and asked us to write a message, likely our last words, to you and Mr. Bingley and our father, I was frightened by the way he looked at me.”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to remain still and quiet. Expression of my anger would not help her, I realized. The only movement I made was to reach for her hand and cover it with my own. Her fingers were very cold. I knew she could feel a tremor pass through me, but I endeavored to control my reactions.
Her voice dropped until it was but a whisper, “He left us for some time, but did not secure the door to the cellar, so I suspected he might soon return. My skin crawled from the way his eyes had moved over me.” I stared at our hands, hers within my own. She said, “We heard movement in the room above. And then the door opened again. He came in alone, carrying the lantern. He told us that when he came to Hertfordshire he was soon told of the beautiful Bennet sisters. He laughed at how jealous his friends would be when they learned he’d taken two of them to his bed. He first put his hands on Jane in a familiar way. When she pulled back he said that she would cooperate or for every bit of trouble she gave he would give me harm. So she stayed very still when he touched her again.”
I closed my eyes against the pain I heard in her voice. I clasped her hand tightly and felt her grasp mine in return. I almost wished she would say no more, yet I knew I must hear it if I were to ever have her trust and love as completely as I wanted. I could hear that she was crying when she began again to speak, “After kissing her and touching her for some time, he turned to me. He told me that likewise if I did not do as he wanted it would mean harm would come to Jane. He removed my gag and ordered me to kiss him. As he leaned in, disgust overcame me and I bit him. He yelled in pain and shoved me so that I fell to the floor. Then he turned back to Jane and slapped her so that she bled. He turned back and grabbed the front of my dress and ripped it, threatening all he would do to Jane if I again fought him. He said that first he would take me, then Jane. Then he secured my gag again and took me out of the cellar and up the stairs to the bedroom.”
Elizabeth stopped speaking. She walked over to where another tray sat and poured a glass of wine. Her hands shook and she spilled a bit. She sipped it and then poured more in the glass. She came back to the couch and offered it to me. I gratefully gulped some down and then handed it back to her. She again sipped it and then set it down on the nearby table. I could hear her breath shudder. I asked, “May I hold you, Elizabeth?” She nodded and for several moments I merely clasped her to me, so grateful to have her safe in my embrace. We both shook from a variety of emotions and both shed tears. I kissed her salty cheeks lightly and said, “I cherish you, beloved.” At this, she broke down sobbing in earnest.
Finally her sobs ceased and she pulled back so that she sat next to me, still within the circle of my arms. Again she looked away from me. She started to speak several times, but obviously struggled. Tears continued down her cheeks. She clung to me convulsively. She said, “He told me you’d likely not want me anymore once he was done, though if I cooperated I might be such a whore as to interest you in an entirely different manner. He said that I was obviously ripe for sexual conquest, yet an innocent. Perhaps if you could no longer have that innocence to yourself you could enjoy tricks he could teach me. He assured me you frequent brothels often and encouraged me to pay close attention to his instruction. Then he ripped away my chemise and commented on my body with words I cannot repeat.”
She was silent then for a very long time. My entire body was clenched with impotent rage. Finally, I whispered, “May I comment or do you wish for me to wait until you have said more?”
She sat back from me and turned to look into my eyes. She asked, “Please comment only on what he said of you.” I saw that her complexion was almost gray now and her face was set as though prepared to weather a blow.
I lifted her cold hands to my lips and kissed them. I said, “As I have told you, my love for you exceeds my hatred of Wickham. That is even true at this moment, when I hate him more than I knew it possible to despise someone.” I blinked back tears. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry that his hatred of me and envy of my fortune led to your being hurt in so base a manner.” She shook her head in protest and I nodded, “As to what he said of me, I want you. I would still want you had he succeeded in his intent.”
I pulled my hand from hers and wiped impatiently at my cheek. “I cannot pretend that as I reached manhood I was not given instruction in intimate matters. My uncle followed that fashion and thought I should as well. He took me to an exclusive brothel. That action caused a lasting break between my uncle and my father, and the worst altercation I ever had with my father. He was vastly disappointed in me. I still thought Wickham my friend then and he went with us, so that is the truth that he embellished. What he did not tell you was that I did not continue in that practice. My father’s disapprobation meant a great deal. While I cannot claim the purity my father brought to his marriage bed, I hope you can believe my assertion that I’ve not haunted such establishments as Wickham would have you believe.” This all seemed inconsequential to me in comparison with the wrongs Wickham had done her. I struggled not to express my rage.
But it meant a great deal to her. She fell against me, sobbing. I could barely hear her. She said, “I was so afraid. Your desire for me is something I treasure. I feared it was done away with forever; that you would find me distasteful; that you would be sickened, thinking of him every time I came near.”
I pulled back so that I could lightly brush her lips with my own. I confess that I delighted that she’d fought so that he’d not had the chance to enjoy her kisses, but I did my best to show her that I only thought of her and delighted in her. I kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips again. Then I moved to very lightly kiss her ear and her neck. I whispered, “I love you and I want to show that love. That has nothing to do with the desire someone else had to use and dominate you.” I was surprised when I felt a tear slide down my cheek then, but she seemed more pleased and less uncomfortable than I would have surmised.
She smiled slightly at me and caressed my cheek lovingly. She said, “I love you, too, Will.”
I released a breath and said, “It is wonderful to hear that.”
Her expression darkened again. “But there is more to tell.” She then quieted for a time and turned her gaze again to the fire. She swallowed hard and said, “As I said, he touched me and spoke in a very offensive way. He compared me with other women… and… girls, he’d known.” She paused and looked at me in a way I did not understand at first.
Then I closed my eyes and gasped, “Georgiana…” She had intimated things, saying that she was not fit to marry another. Yet she said she had not allowed him the ultimate liberty with her person and I believed her. Still, hearing that he’d abused the memory of what she had given him by talking of it hurt. My rage burned even brighter.
She only nodded. She said, “He also told me things about my youngest sister, liberties she’d allowed, made base insinuations about our temperaments and ugly comparisons of our bodies.” She cried, looking ashamed.
I whispered, “You are perfection, Elizabeth.”
She shook her head and said, “I could not give in to him and he continued to threaten what he would do to harm Jane as a result. I cannot forgive myself for what might have happened to her.” She breathed in and out deeply. “He grew more and more wrathful, hitting me and biting… Well, you know of my wounds. I find now that I am not so angry that you had the doctor tell you of them as it spares me the task.” Her tears began to flow again. She choked out, “He talked of some of the things he said were done for you commonly at brothels. He said that if I would do such things he would spare Jane.” She shook her head from side to side. “Yet I could not! I can not discuss this with her. I never knew I could be so selfish. I always thought that I would die for her. Yet, when I was tested…” She looked at me wildly.
I spoke quietly, “Do not give too much credence to the word of a liar, Elizabeth. Had you done as he asked, he would likely have still taken Miss Bennet if we’d not arrived. She is lovely. For a man such as Wickham…” I stroked her hair and kissed her again. I said, “You take too much on yourself, my love. Please desist.”
She stopped crying and pulled closer to me yet. I could feel that she took my words to heart and I was pleased. She murmured, “Aunt Gardiner urged me not to confuse violence with love.”
I whispered, “I pray you take her advice. She speaks wisely.” We were quiet together for a time. I offered, “I like your aunt and uncle.”
She said, “My uncle was honored that you showed him your house personally instead of having a servant do so.”
I smiled as I replied, “I was glad of the chance to get to know him better. He is someone I would like to call friend.” She nestled closer.
She said, “He was fascinated with the house’s hidden passages.”
I replied easily, “I have always shared that fascination.”
She asked, “Will you show them to me?” She sat up and looked at me expectantly.
I asked, “Now?”
She nodded eagerly, a gleam in her eye that I liked very much. I stood and took the hand she offered and led her to the passage entrance. She murmured, “It is rather exciting, like something of a novel I ought not read.”
I asked with teasing interest, “What limitations have there been on your choice of books?”
She laughingly replied, “None, really. I suppose I only felt I ought not read some things that I have.” As we quietly made our way down the passage I heard her whisper a quote, “Magnificence… though impaired by time, excited so much admiration…”
I chuckled, “Miss Radcliffe?” Even in the faint light given by my candle I could see her blush. She nodded. I admonished, “You’ll find no dungeons here.”
She looked amusingly disappointed and then curious as she asked, “How do you know which chamber is which?”
I explained to her the landmarks one could use to navigate the labyrinth. We both quieted as we heard a noise. I grimaced as Bingley carefully closed a door behind him, entered the passage and began to count his way to Miss Bennet’s chamber. When he saw us there he flushed red and stammered a greeting. I whispered, “Bingley! I believe you forgot to count the torch by the door where you entered. You are about to enter Mr. Bennet’s rooms.” He looked horrified, staring past me at Elizabeth. I glanced back to see that she covered her mouth to stifle laughter. I shrugged at her and turned back to Bingley, “One more beyond that to the one you wish, I think.” He bowed slightly to me and murmured thanks as he gingerly opened the door I’d indicated.
When we were again alone I dared look at Elizabeth. She still struggled with her amusement, but finally coughed lightly and asked, “Who else might we meet here tonight, sir?”
I raised my eyebrows and said, “Well, Fitzwilliam knows his way about by these passages. They enabled him to come to my aid unknown to others.” She looked serious again and nodded.
She seemed to gather her courage and then asked quietly, “And how would we find your chamber?” She looked nervous, but determined.
I indicated the way and led her there. I went in first to be certain that no one was within. I crossed the room and locked the door to the hallway. Elizabeth looked around inside my dressing room for some time, interested by the variety of different articles of clothing. She exited to my room and asked about another door. “Where does that go?” I opened it to show her the master parlor. She looked around appreciatively, running her fingers along the book shelves. Then she asked, “And beyond this?”
I cleared my throat and said, “Beyond this is the mistress’ chamber. Would you like to see it?” She held my gaze as she nodded. I took her into the darkened chamber. The furniture was covered. She walked around for a moment and then went back through the master parlor to my room. I watched silently as she warmed herself by the fire. Then she turned and looked at my bed. My mouth went dry as she removed her robe and laid it on the chair. She walked over to the bed and climbed beneath the covers.
I drew near and laid the candle down on the table by the bed. She looked up at me solemnly and asked, “Will you lay here with me?” I nodded, unsure what she was about. I took off my shoes and climbed in beside her as she shifted slightly aside that I might join her. I lay on my side and looked down at her. She reached up and stroked my cheek and then my neck. She whispered, “He suggested at one point that I might pretend I was in the master chamber bed with you. I wish to replace the thought of what was happening then with more pleasant remembrances.” I saw from her look then that she wished for me to kiss her. I leaned in to do so very gently. It was more difficult to set aside thoughts of more intimacy with her as we lay in my bed, where I’d had so many dreams and fantasies. She clung to me tightly, murmuring of her love for me and asking that I never stop.
I kissed her again and asked, “May I have a private interview with you tomorrow?”
Amusement plain in her face, she pointed out, “We are quite alone right now.”
I nodded and said, “Indeed, we are. But I want to be able to relate the story of a successful marriage proposal to our children. I would not tell them that I stole into your room by night and led you to my bed to propose.” I kissed her again, with more apparent hunger. She laughed slightly.
I added lightly, “Nor would I wish to tell them that you so doubted my desire of you that you went to great lengths to prove it to yourself, taking my sanity in the process.” I lightly nipped at her ear lobe and then kissed down her neck and savored her delightfully warm response. I kissed her lips again. I whispered, “I want you desperately and can hardly bear the temptation of you. When you lay against me last night it was nearly painful. I wanted to love you as God enabled us when he created the comfort of the marriage bed. Yet I would not harm or frighten you for anything. Your softness and sweetness, your delightful innocent beauty, kindle a desire in me that will take a lifetime to quench.” I kissed her again and then looked deep into her eyes. “I will not begin that lifetime of loving with shame and guilt. We have long tarried beyond lines of propriety, as we both realize. I think, much as I do not wish it, that I must escort you back to your chamber now.”
She smiled and nodded, tears in her eyes. She murmured, “Perhaps with such sweet memories as this to bring to mind I may sleep when I lie in bed, rather than remembering horror.” I kissed her again and then helped her from my bed and handed her robe to her. My hands shook, a fact that surprised me not at all.
I saw her to her chamber and kissed her hand as I bid her good night. Walking away from her as she looked at me so warmly was difficult beyond measure.
The next day I asked Mr. Bennet if I might beg a private interview with Elizabeth. He looked at me fixedly and said, “I suppose so.” Then he returned to reading the news.
I turned to Elizabeth and asked if she would join me in the music room. She demurely walked past me, avoiding the interested gazes of Bingley, Fitzwilliam and the Gardiners. My nervousness was obvious and I could see that our audience was amused.
I closed the door to the music room behind me. She sat on the sofa and I stood and stared at her for a moment. I’d thought much of this moment after returning to my room the previous evening. I had studied her carefully throughout the morning to ascertain if my timing was right. It seemed so and I approached her carefully. I could not help but compare this occasion with the dismal failure I’d met at Hunsford. On this day I walked over to her and fell to one knee. I realized that towering over her and pacing in agitation had done little to recommend me before. I looked up into her eyes and saw not embarrassment, but love. Reassured, I gently took her hand.
I said, “My feelings will not be repressed. Miss Elizabeth, I humbly ask that you allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” Her smile was radiant as she heard my previous sentiments echoed in my humble plea to her now. I kissed her hand.
She murmured, “Oh, Will!”
I continued, “I love you. I would be deeply honored if you would accept me and allow me forever to be at your service. My life would be bereft of joy without you; without your wit and vivacity, your beauty and your sweetness. Please, will you marry me?”
She smiled at me teasingly and replied, “I thank you. Your sentiments are returned equally, Mr. Darcy. I desire nothing more than your good opinion and am delighted that you bestow it on me so willingly. I love you and would be honored to marry you.” She laughed at the expression on my face then. Her words conversely mirrored her previous rejection of me as completely as my own had echoed that proposal.
I leaned in and kissed her. “You have made me very happy, Elizabeth.” I pulled back and then moved to sit next to her.
She reached out to stroke my cheek and I saw desire in her eyes. I could not but oblige it. I leaned in to kiss her again. She murmured, “Have we now satisfied the requirements of the children enough that I may shamelessly enjoy and encourage your kisses?”
I chuckled and nodded before I kissed her again.
That night as I lay in my bed restlessly thinking of Elizabeth, I heard the passage door open. I could see that she stood there by the light of her candle. I held my breath as I wished she would come to me, but it was not to be. She turned and left me to my dreams of what might have been.