Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
Elizabeth Bennet glanced back at Longbourne and sensed her heart fall towards her butterfly-occupied stomach. She witnessed the muted candlelight flickering in her dear father's window, which seemed to quite glow in the dark night and the lady suddenly underwent the feelings of true fear. She could heed his faint coughing from her outside position and felt her eyes suddenly water as she recalled how loud the noise truly was from inside the house. For so long she had not seen her true father, for the illness not only prevented him from speaking much but also made him quite... irrational. However, at the present moment he was resting, in fact, that was all he had done for days. She sat by her father's bed as often as one could, wiping his hot brow with a cool cloth and reading every book from his library twice now. For weeks the deafening noise emanating from his room had left Elizabeth crying into her bed and wishing fervently for Jane to soon hurry back, comfort and save her. She grasped the letter from her bag once again and, quickly browsing over it, could barely make out the written text due to the lack of light. She placed it over her heart and sighed deeply into the cold winter air. The letter was the only solace and hope young Miss Bennet had experienced in the past few weeks and refused to keep it from her sight. Mr Bennet's severe illness had affected the entire household, but none more than his favourite daughter. Mrs Bennet, at present, seemed more occupied in stressing the terms of the entailment of Longbourne in a loud and snivelling tone and upholding her volatile state in her room with her equally excitable sister, Mrs Philips. Her sisters Kitty and Lydia were quite more distressed with the knowledge that they would soon be categorized homeless at their father's death, though Kitty showed more affection for their Papa than her highly strung younger sibling. Mary showed sagacity in her character as she remained by her father as near as often as Elizabeth; attempting to offer her services and praying for Mr Bennet's health - though, the latter task seemed quite utterly useless. And as for Miss Jane Bennet, she was in still touring Italy with her dear husband; a young gentleman by the name of Charles Bingley who had arrived at the nearby estate of Netherfield with his two sisters and brother-in-law.
In the morning her mother and three younger sisters would wake to find her letter, and Elizabeth hoped they would attempt to comprehend her actions and sudden departure. She thanked God for Mary's sudden mature approach and knew she would care for their father in her absence.
Elizabeth was in a desperate situation. She had not an instance to squander and was in dire need of further money. She had taken the funds she had saved for years since her childhood on this journey and securely reserved them in her boots, yet they were not nearly enough. Pulling her cloak tighter about herself, the frightened young lady trudged over the fields towards Meryton, where she thoroughly wished she would be capable of securing a carriage to take her towards the vicinity of Bath. Wickham would be awaiting her arrival and had promised to provide her with the best apothecary money could procure. She had heard much of Dr Phelps and could not thank George enough for detecting him for her father, for it seemed he was beyond hope. Every physician, local and not, whom the Bennets had employed to examine the head of their family had all but pronounced him dead; though many were close to saying it. Dr Phelps was not only a respectable and experienced man but infamous for his skill and some even have rumoured him as a prodigy, though the lady was sure it was merely his brilliant strategy and intelligence that had provided him with such an unstinting reputation. Yet, Elizabeth was still two thousand pounds short of the fee Dr Phelps required and knew not how to acquire the rest of that substantial amount of money in the time needed... All she really knew was that she had to get to Bath as soon as humanly possible, and she intended to do so; regardless of any situation that befell her.
She did not feel quite safe where she presently was, for she was a lone woman walking in the fields and woods, which were not frequently visited by a crowd, leave be a friendly kind. Whilst she began to concern herself with the tall tales her mother told her of propriety and not abiding by certain rules... she heard a noise. She lady froze; then fumbled feebly into her bag and clasped her fingers over her father's pistol. She knew not yet how to work such a contraption and had simply transported it with her in case of wolf attacks or frightening away unwanted attention (although she truly believed she was the only being it had that influence upon!). She sauntered quietly onwards into the woods to glimpse a clearing and its current dwellers. Elizabeth hid well contained by the mistiness and behind a large oak tree to observe the scene before her unnoticed. She caught sight of an upturned coach and gasped as she observed a band of highwaymen. Elizabeth, however, reacted further more once she caught sight of one of the masked men brandish a category of sword and promptly bring it downwards upon the head of a coachman. My God, they have slaughtered every man there... do not move, Elizabeth, lest they catch sight of you. She suddenly heard talking and strained her neck to hear the conversation between the men, though resided back sufficiently enough to be camouflaged within the dark woods. Elizabeth managed to distinguish a conversation between the highwayman and an inhabitant of the overturned coach while her heart skipped more than one successive beat.
"Sir, I beseech you to take it all... please do not execute anymore of my men..." The small but strong voice pleaded. The lady witnessed the masked man throw back his head to produce a hearty laugh
"I promise you that, on my person as a Highwayman!" The gruffer voice of his replied in humour. "And even if I wished to, I could not... for I fear there are no more left. The only life I have left to have the pleasure of taking is, if I am not mistaken, yours, Sir." Elizabeth knew not what had prompted her to step forward and reveal herself but she could not watch this blackguard take yet another innocent man. She was as sensible a person as there commonly was and each and every occasion in the outlying future when thinking back upon her technique and conduct, she shook her head with not only disbelief, but also some antagonism - why had she ever taken such a risk? What had provoked her to take such a quite foolish and extremely dangerous action? Yet, these views did not enter her usually quite astute mind at the present moment and would only truly emerge subsequently when all was done. With her dark hooded cloak secreting her sex and any features, Elizabeth stepped forward and lifted her gun to the head of the leader. Oh God, give me strength... how am I to impersonate a man?
"You are indeed mistaken, sir," her voice rang out deeply. Not at all bad, Lizzie. You sound quite believable... The masked man turned and growled at Elizabeth.
"So I am," He said cautiously, eying the gun in her hand with some watchfulness.
"I suggest you leave, sir," she pronounced boldly as she attempted a both steady and deep voice. "Or you shall find that yours is the only life that will be 'taken'." Following her bold caution, Elizabeth halted. Neither person moved as they silently glared at one another. The lady was still in some state of panic, for she did not regular in warding off criminals! She felt her hands shaking and perspiring through her gloves but refused to allow her foe to see her true feelings of doubt. Finally, in what seemed an eternity, he growled under his breath.
"Retreat men... NOW!" His accomplices did not necessitate to be disciplined twice and promptly got on their horses and moved out the place. Immediately before the leader left with his men, he snarled towards Elizabeth and, in pure spite, hurled the torch in his hand into the carriage. He strode vehemently into the distance as Elizabeth hurried towards the scorching coach and its lone occupant. Please, do not let me be too late! She spied a hand protruding from out the entrance of the carriage and pulled it with all the strength she could muster before the fire reached that part of the coach. As she pulled the gentleman from the rapidly burning vehicle she took notice of the cut on his brow and the ring she felt beneath her fingers. The carriage was indeed grand enough but the coat of arms his ring had imprinted onto its face immediately informed Elizabeth that this was no ordinary gentleman. She let him be and glanced upon him as soon as she knew of their safety. His eyes were shut and his face was shining with sweat and smog. She knew not what to do and began to lightly hit at his face until he stirred and attempted to open his eyes.
"Sir... I cannot thank you enough..." he muttered in thanks, still quite unaware of what was going on about him. He sounded quite lost and Lizzie feared that the gentleman would fall from consciousness once again. He lightly touched the cut upon his face and, whilst wincing, the gentleman continued. "I have never seen such bravery. Name your price, I will offer you anything...." He stopped short as he eyed the figure. Elizabeth had taken down her hood, revealing her eyes, her face and her feminine appearance. "You are not a man." he managed to croak in his utter disbelief.
"I believe you must be correct, Sir," she said, smiling amusedly. "Are you quite well?"
Chapter 2
"Do you disapprove, sir?" she quipped. She now remembered the probable rule that the richer the person, the greater the arrogance; her dear sister-in-law, Miss Bingley, was a perfect example for such a statement - though her even dearer brother was indeed a complete contradiction to such an opinion. Teaching herself yet again not to judge by appearance and not to be converted by first impressions, Elizabeth poised herself for a civil conversation. He brushed himself off without the lady's former willingness to help and refused to meet her terribly concealed irritated gaze. Standing above her crouching form, he continued in a wheezing and breathless expression.
"It- it just does not seem to follow propriety that a young lady should be venturing the woods quite alone and at night...."
"And would you rather have had myself follow propriety and not make an effort to save you?" Elizabeth replied cogently as she herself stood up and, she noted, with no help offered from the gentleman. This is my second appearance of him, and I still do not approve. I should not be conversing with this odious man, I should be well on my way to Meryton... He exhaled deeply for he did not wish to be in argument with a mere and probably ill-educated country girl, especially for the motive that he was not awfully superior with acting well upon confrontation. In fact, the gentleman was not fond at all of a good discrepancy, for his reserved and quiet nature forbade his conveying the appropriate conduct for such a circumstance. However, he reminded himself of the great act of courage she had portrayed and attempted civility in his address.
"I cannot thank you enough for your help, Miss..." Elizabeth paused before she answered to his expectant look. Is it sensible to give your true name, for you do not know this gentleman and have not exactly behaved like a lady...?
"Woodhouse. Emma Woodhouse," The lady finished curtly; quite satisfied with the first name she spontaneously thought up. He contemplated over the name and quite faintly smiled as he raised a brow.
"Another Emma Woodhouse?" Elizabeth froze. The one name I choose and he already knows of a person owning it!
"Is it not possible for there to be two women owning that particular name, Sir?" Elizabeth questioned in annoyance, for her perfect name had a defect... but surely there were many Miss Emma Woodhouse's in the world...?
He held up his hands as he implored her forgiveness and simultaneously used it almost as a type of shield.
"I apologise once again, Miss Woodhouse," he said quite bitterly, for she had a way of speaking that made him wish to triumph over her, but again his reasonable nature gave way to his almost long forgotten childhood fancies... though he did have a sudden urge to pull at her hair. Before considering if the next he uttered would be sensible, he spoke. "I must thank you again, though you are either terribly brave or quite foolish." Elizabeth raised a brow and he suddenly wished to retract his words as he saw the fiery blaze in her eyes; which were a lot brighter than the flames which nearly took his own life. I should not have said it... Damn it, Darcy! Why must you always utter the wrong thing when women are concerned?
"Foolish?!" Elizabeth cried out as the gentleman squeezed his eyes tightly. She usually would not have reacted in such a fashion but her passion forbade sensible conduct and this gentleman had just a way of speaking that she found intolerable! "I apologise for saving you, Sir. I see how grand an error I indeed have made. Forgive me, I must go now." Elizabeth turned her heel and marched towards her original destination whilst muttering curses at the ill-mannered young gentleman under her breath. He watched her march off in a terrible temper and recalled how savage he believed country manners to be. A good friend of his had once pronounced him as a judgemental fellow but he was convinced if Bingley had witnessed the situation, he would have to withdraw that opinion. Good old Bingley... He had missed his old friend cruelly and had scolded himself for not keeping in communications with the gentleman sooner, for only now was he venturing to visit him. It had been five long years since their last meeting and, hearing of Bingley's marriage, had to see if this young woman was worthy of him. Caroline had written to him, stressing about the woman terribly and of her low connections, her perfidious past and claiming her lack of love for her brother. And the last he remembered of Miss Caroline Bingley, she was kind and somewhat vulnerable and innocent of the world... a woman who was surely not capable of wilful deceit. There was even a time he thought rather well of the lady... but he had long forgotten of those feelings since the illness he had suffered that prevented previous communications with the siblings. You will never see either Bingley if you do not hurry man...
Looking about him he realised not only was he completely unaware of his location, but his carriage, and all his possessions, were destroyed in the blaze. The Highwaymen had taken all the money and valuables he had and his only forms of help were dead. This is a hopeless case. How am I to ever get to Bath? I do not have a map, money or assistance... He suddenly stopped. Miss Woodhouse had not walked too far from the gentleman and he realised she was indeed his only hope. However, his incredibly shy nature gave way and he knew not how to call the attention of a hot tempered and confident female.
"Erm... I say, Miss Woodhouse!" He called lightly. The lady did not turn. After several more attempts, she still appeared unaware of his address. She did not seem hard of hearing when we first conversed, though she did shout a great deal... Be strong, Darcy... The gentleman coughed softly and walked hurriedly towards 'Emma', who he was convinced was walking even faster as he called and approached her. He rolled his eyes to the night sky as he, due to her sudden acceleration, increased his speed. "Miss Woodhouse, will you please stop," he pleaded somewhat desperately and the lady did indeed halt. He did not appreciate that her reason for not halting was due to the fact that she was not aware he was conversing with her... a problem that usually does not occur when one uses her own name! She turned to face him and he suddenly found himself at a loss for words... he was not the most confident of his sex and was not sure what to now say since he gained her attention.
"Well, sir?" she asked in a coldly civil tone then exhaled loudly as his hesitation and thoughtfulness began to try her patience.
"I need your help, Miss Woodhouse." He finally managed.
"Well, Sir, it seems when I do provide help, you do not appreciate it." Why must I always be so difficult. Learn manners, Lizzie! Why are you acting so unreasonable? She noticed the awkwardness in his person as her words caught him quite off guard and wished she had bitten her tongue. The more she spoke, the further his dislike of her was pushed and he began to wonder whether or not he was desperate enough to ask for her help. The lady noted the emotions running upon his face and felt quite guilty for she discerned she was indeed the cause of them. Try again, Lizzie. Sighing, she attempted anew. "What can I do for you, Sir?"
Chapter 3
Darcy tightened his jaw before he began for he was sure this was the closest to civility she would achieve... but primarily due to the fact he did not desire to antagonise Miss Woodhouse yet again for she did quite own the power to intimidate him.
"I must get to Bath, Madam," He began slowly and softly as he premeditated each word. "I, however, do not have the funds or the means to get there at present." He paused as he saw her uneasiness then quickly continued to set her mind at ease. "I will pay back every pound, Miss Woodhouse. You have my word on that."
"Why cannot you just obtain money via telegram?" she asked as she looked about her quite nervously. I do not have time for a travel companion. I must away as soon as possible.
"Could you not direct me to the nearest Express Office?" Darcy entreated in pure desperation as he glanced back upon his demolished carriage. Elizabeth shook her head as she gazed longingly down the lane she wished to be disappearing down.
"The nearest Office is about 20 miles North, since the Meryton Office closed recently and father has only ever sent Randall on horseback..." Elizabeth's voice slowly faded as she recalled her father's situation and found she could suddenly not speak. The gentleman did not notice the tears in her dark eyes as he rolled his own.
"Is it a wonder you people even communicate...?" Darcy muttered under his breath but not quietly enough for he was again stopped short by a quite recovered, fiery and irate Elizabeth Bennet (or Miss Emma Woodhouse, as the gentleman would refer to her).
"We do find it difficult, Sir, along with eating with cutlery and dressing ourselves," She derided in aggravation. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to learn to spell my name and tie my shoes." With yet another outburst, Elizabeth quite slammed passed the gentleman to his utter mortification and disbelief. Having this young woman as his only means of assistance was not filling him with confidence and he found himself disliking her further still. But he could not hazard to denounce her too strictly or loudly, for he was quite desperate... even desperate enough to plead for her support. With yet another act of boldness, he stopped Miss Woodhouse... which he found quite difficult with the use of words so physical contact was the only method. Her reaction to his grabbing her arm did not dissuade the gentleman and he continued as her eyes widened with anger and further more, astonishment.
"Miss Woodhouse, I myself would not find it a great privilege to travel with you; an opinion I am sure you mutually concur with towards myself..."
"Which is the only thing you have thus far uttered correctly, Sir," She retorted back in annoyance. Darcy narrowed both eyes but refrained himself from losing his temper, for his usually reserved character was suddenly being threatened - what was it about this girl that angered him so? Why could he not act his normal and quite sensible self?
"I will offer you anything, Madam," He said unwillingly through clenched teeth, for he truly wished to give her the opposite of her desires. Elizabeth inspected him quickly and bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a terribly hidden smile.
"You have nothing that I wish to have, Sir. Goodbye." She turned to leave when her mind suddenly halted her. She thought of her situation and her father... and most prominently in her mind, the money she lacked. Darcy had given up with her and with her last subtle insult decided to find civilisation himself... for he still had his pride to preserve and an ego to repair. Elizabeth's sudden and quite methodical sentence stopped him to inquire just at the precise moment he had decided to move forward.
"Three thousand pounds." With her short statement, the lady turned to turned to face him.
"Pardon?" The gentleman turned back as his eyes not only widened but his mouth dropped slightly open in addition.
"Three thousand pounds, no more, no less." She said firmly as her face betrayed not a hint of emotion. Darcy took a step back and Elizabeth could distinguish the look of astonishment upon his features slowly distort into anger.
"Three thousand pounds?! For merely directing me to an office?" He could not believe the nerve of the girl!
"Will you pay it, Sir?" she asked slightly vehemently. Biting his bottom lip from betraying another outburst, he thought over the matter. Darcy, she has the upper hand. You must comply... and you can pay it...
"You do not wish for more?" he asked quite impudently. What part of comply do I not understand? Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in displeasure; proud, disagreeable and arrogant. How shall I survive an hour in his sole company let alone a carriage ride...? Perhaps I should rephrase, how shall he survive?
"I do not wish for any more of your money than is necessary." Well, it is a thousand more than necessary... but he can afford it and does not need it as my family and I do. Though Elizabeth was not entirely pleased with the extra thousand she had selfishly added to the bill, the further she spoke to the gentleman the less appealing discounting it appeared.
"Necessary for what situation?" He asked in peculiar interest. Elizabeth opened her mouth to articulate on the subject of Mr Bennet however her wits halted her prior to her uttering a sound.Why should he know about father? He is type of man who would most likely find his illness amusing.
"That is none of your business, Sir," Elizabeth replied dryly. "Three thousand pounds and all the expenses we incur with the money I currently have. Do we have a deal?" Darcy exhaled quite loudly before he finally gave his answer.
"We do, Miss Woodhouse." Elizabeth cringed slightly as she realised her real name had to given.
"Bennet," She said shamefacedly. Darcy looked quite confused, which did not help to Elizabeth's already discomfited expression.
"Pardon?"
"My name is Elizabeth Bennet," she said again, not meeting the gentleman's amused eye. "That is the name that the money should be directed to and I-I should be referred to... unless you wish to continue so incorrectly."
"And Miss Woodhouse?" he smiled softly at her gauche appearance.
"A figment of my imagination." She said sheepishly. They stood quite awkwardly in not quite pure silence seeing as the coach was still crackling due to the fire. Darcy finally broke the atmosphere with his deep and reserved accent.
"What is the course of action, Miss Bennet?"
"To ask your name, sir, for you have the advantage of knowing mine... well, at length."
"Darcy." He was none too fond of his first name and Elizabeth did not question his reluctance in sharing it, though noticed its absence immediately. Rolling her eyes, the lady continued.
"Well, I now believe a walk to Meryton to hire a coach to the nearest express bureau is in order. What say you to that, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she challenged him automatically after her unanswered question.
"Any objections?" Darcy smiled slightly at her efficient tone and barren defiance and raised a brow, which only incensed her once again.
"None, Sir," he smirked somewhat. Elizabeth muttered something inaudible under her breath and trudged on ahead into the direction of Meryton as the gentleman hurried on behind. If it was not for the fact she was in desperate need of the money, Elizabeth would happily have left him next to the burning coach... either that application or thrown him in.
Chapter 4
"May I inquire what you doing, Sir?!"
"I could ask the same question of you, Miss Bennet," He called back, equally as tired.
"Why are you running?" She asked as they both increased their velocity and the wind slapped coolly upon both their icy red faces.
"Because you are!"
"This is ridiculous. Will you please stop?" She asked, almost wheezing as they descended towards the end of the bridge to Meryton.
"Only after you, Madam." And with that last proclamation, the gentleman dashed faster, imposing Elizabeth to gradually discontinue and lean her tired body backwards upon the stonewalls of the bridge as she attempted recuperation. Grasping both knees and lowering her flushed head, Elizabeth's heavy breaths soon gave way into the slow direction of a sly smile and she called out victoriously to the ever-moving Darcy.
"You may run, Mr Darcy, but you have not a clue where you are, and there is an upcoming fork in the road!" Her words did not make impact directly, but Darcy did indeed slow into a jog then halt. Turning back to the lady, completely out of breath and flushed, Darcy did not speak. Elizabeth soon recognised the strange look upon his face and adopted it automatically... they were both quite ashamed. Not even sure of what they were undertaking and why they initiated in such a foolish action, the two companions walked progressively towards one another accompanied by such an awkward silence neither could find enough courage to break it. Nevertheless, Darcy did ultimately manage to locate a sudden valour and raked a hand through his unruly hair as he spoke warily and in some embarrassment.
"I-I must apologise, Miss Bennet, for my quite odd behaviour..."
"It was quite strange was it not?" Elizabeth asked, still panting slightly as her forehead creased in perplexity. "I also cannot explain why I reacted thus..." Both contemplated with bowed heads as their bemused thoughts did no good to help the mystery come to light. With a small bewildered smile, Elizabeth gave a final shrug.
"I suppose it is too late to make sense of the matter, Sir. We should continue, though I am not too sure we can procure a carriage at this time of night." Darcy did not dispute, to the lady's astonishment and merely gave a solemn nod to her approach. Both walked further on until they did indeed reach a divide in the road. With a faint trace of a smile, the gentleman turned to Elizabeth and spoke softly.
"Ah, the infamous fork. Pray let me out of my misery, Miss Bennet; which way is the correct one to Meryton?" With a pleased pursing of her lips, Elizabeth raised her glittering and amused eyes to the gentleman.
"I confess I tricked you, Sir. Either road shall shepherd you to our location; they are simply different routes to the same place." With a teasing smile, Elizabeth turned away and hurried up the left pathway leaving Darcy to open his mouth in amazement and some respect as he first detected her intelligence. Shaking his head with a light chuckle, he found himself lagging behind once again and, with a heavy sigh, jogged following after her.
When Meryton finally emerged from the narrow pathway, Elizabeth found herself sighing with satisfaction and relief - the place was even now quite lively and she could perceive that the carriage office was open, although a little quiet. Though the lady was quite independent and did recognize how to care for herself, she was quite glad that Mr Darcy was by her side... though she would never actually make this opinion known to the gentleman. He stayed closely by her side as they walked passed a raucous brothel or two and though she still was not too fond of the gentleman, was thankful for his protective company. Darcy hardly spoke a word as they travelled through the town, keeping inconspicuous and staring in quite some interest at surroundings he had not ever truly experienced or witnessed. Once at the carriage office, the window was quite vacant and both waited impatiently for a worker to finally emerge from the busy indoors of the building. Finally one did and, to Elizabeth's panic, it was an acquaintance. Henry Dillinger squinted through his rounded spectacles and graced the lady with a disorientated expression.
"M-Miss Elizabeth?" he breathed in incredulous discovery as he pushed back his slipping glasses with one finger. "What do you do here?" How is this going to seem? Requesting a carriage with a man beside me whom he has never seen? And his knowing of father's condition... Both Darcy and Henry Dillinger looked upon Elizabeth in expectancy as the lady managed a weak smile.
"Erm, I-I am in need of a carriage to Bath, Mr Dillinger." Henry Dillinger nodded, though both travellers could see he was quite discomfited with seeing Elizabeth. What ought I do? Give the carriage to, Miss Lizzie? But who is this gentleman? And why does she wish to go at the dead of night...? Though many questions plagued the elder gentleman, he finally resolved to not involve himself in the situation and to impartially respond to it.
"Oh, certainly, Miss Bennet..." he nodded again as he attempted to hide his curiosity. Turning to the handsome and quite dishevelled (though strangely well-dressed) gentleman beside her, he smiled nervously. "I-I shall go see if one is available. If you would come with me and sort the money, Sir, I shall..."
"If you wish for money, Mr Dillinger, then I suggest you talk to me," Elizabeth said in some annoyance - why did men constantly disregard her when it came to serious matters like money? Darcy smiled sheepishly though felt incredibly useless as this Dillinger fellow raised a brow. At that moment, Darcy truly believed Elizabeth to be far too liberated for her own good and fervently wished her to know her place in society... he was the man; surely it should be he who dealt with matters like money and purchases...? With a scowl, he leaned upon the wall and within a few moments, Elizabeth appeared and calmly informed him of the price of the carriage, so he would be so kind as to add it to the bill of three thousand pounds. In just a few short minutes they had both coldly responded to one another again. Before he could reply bitterly, Darcy was stopped short by his observing their driver and carriage. The carriage was perfectly acceptable, even by his strict measures, but it was the driver who severely unnerved him. The elderly gentleman hobbled about the pavement and with the help of his two patrons, managed to get securely onto the front of coach. Both Darcy and Elizabeth cautiously entered the vehicle as Darcy sighed deeply in anxiety.
"I believe you would be a safer driver, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth suppressed a smile as she leaned back upon the seat.
"But I have never driven a carriage in my life, Sir." Darcy warily looked out the window of the closed carriage and caught sight of the driver staring in fascination at the horse cane he held in his frail hand.
"I am honestly not sure he has either." Elizabeth's laugh softly melted his look of consternation for but a second until she joined his apprehensive emotion as the coach creaked into unsteady motion.
Chapter 5
"Mr Darcy, you cannot earnestly believe this madman is taking us the correct way."
"Perhaps he is taking a short-cut...?" Darcy hazarded optimistically, though he himself believed the idea to be somewhat unbelievable. Letting out a sigh, Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the shaking window to see the dark rolling hills of Hertfordshire quiver with her. She wished she were with her father. He would have at least made a tease at the driver or amused Elizabeth enough to distract her from the situation. Darcy merely sat there looking unsettled and being quite irksomely quiet. Why does he not speak? Why does he not think light of the situation, shrug and laugh at it? Why must he always be so serious? However, the lady did remind herself that he had acted peculiarly amusingly, as had she, when he had raced her at the bridge to Meryton. He had let his guard down... an action he had not yet executed afterwards. She even now could not comprehend why precisely all that had happened did and found herself blushing feverishly at every instant she thought of it. She looked upon the gentleman again and found herself unconsciously analysing his entire character and self, as she usually did with all she was newly acquainted with. Being the inquisitive creature she was, Elizabeth considered back upon all their past discussions and speculated enthusiastically about the gentleman. He was quiet, reserved and unmistakeably proud... assets that she concluded were created from his wealthy upbringing. Thus far, she believed he disapproved of her for her quick-mind (a trait a lowly woman truly should not possess), her quite personal teasing (which a man with his ego would unquestionably be affected by) and most understandably, her temper. Elizabeth could not recently vouch for it and pondered over why it had reacted so and become so strong ever since his acquaintance. She was not too sure of why it was but she knew there was something about the gentleman that infuriated her; though at present they had both kept to themselves, causing little discussion and, thankfully, no arguments.
As for Darcy, he was also busy in thought over his dislike for Miss Bennet and was simultaneously analysing his travelling partner, as was the very lady in question. The gentleman gazed over her person as she glanced heatedly out the window and was forced to reluctantly disclose to himself that she was growing increasingly more handsome the further he examined her. She had a light and pleasing figure, despite the fact that it may have not been the most refined he had seen and though her features were not exceptionally beautiful, her face was the type that improved with further study into, not only her appearance, but her character in addition. Darcy had scarce had time to study Elizabeth in the past, for he was often too busy in battle with the lady but now he had the opportunity to, he took it in his stride. He could not deny she was impatient, that the lady owned a fairly quick temper and that she was quite beneath him in both temperament and manners. However, he did have to give her due credit for her trick on the bridge and she seemed almost pleasant for those few moments that they were not at each other's throats. She was also a great deal more intelligent than he had first predicted and decided that underestimating her would only lead to his own demise. However, Darcy supposed the majority of positive thoughts that were directed towards her were only now surfaced for the couple had not spoken for a while; the gentleman was convinced that if he had allowed himself in conversation with the lady, they would soon argue one again and he would have to retract and erase his now relatively fair opinion of her.
Elizabeth continued to pout and discovered even further agitation as she noticed Mr Darcy staring at her once again. Turning his head quickly, the gentleman made a speedy escape from her angered eyes - she seemed to be in another mood... yet again. Perhaps he was actually wrong about the few good qualities he had discovered in his investigations. It was not significant how often and with how much depth Darcy indulged into his studies... he just could not begin to comprehend the other sex. Not only that, but Elizabeth was by far the most high-strung and enigmatic female he'd encountered upon.
The lady watched the peculiar goings-on riddled clearly upon Darcy' face but did not begin to try and decipher their hidden meaning and source and averted her eyes with a sigh. Turning to the window, again Elizabeth's head suddenly collided with the hard wooden edge of the coach window, however this collision was unmistakeably louder and more considerably powerfully struck than any previous encounter with the hard surface. Tracing over the newest bump on the side of her head gingerly with the tips of her fingers, Elizabeth suddenly felt fatigued and incredibly prone to slumber. Inspecting upon her hand, she barely distinguished a blurred and vibrant red liquid smeared across three of her fingertips as her eyes began to slowly fail. The carriage continued to shake uncontrollably as the lady felt her consciousness slip and her world cloak with darkness. Darcy's concerned voice and face were the last memories in her mind before her eyes closed and she slumped back into her seat.
"Miss Bennet? Miss Bennet?!" he called in desperation and some fear as the gentleman shook her limp body by her shoulders. However, his efforts were all in vain for the only movements the young Miss Elizabeth Bennet made were due to the trembling carriage; she was out cold.
Chapter 6
Once Elizabeth at length awoke, it was in a completely disorientated state; she knew not where she was or what had happened and could hardly recall a thing but her last moments in a crazed carriage. All she could currently truly distinguish was that she was within a tiny room and possessed a terribly aching head. Hearing a distinct movement stirring inside the room and concluding that she was not alone, Elizabeth's gaze searched it out and came immediately face to face with a young servant girl. Instead of being as shocked as the lady, the girl smiled warmly and also sighed a small breath of relief.
"Oh, thank Lord you are awake, Madam! We all began to fear you would not rouse, but naturally your husband more than any." Elizabeth's numb hand managed to spring to her injured and bandaged temple as a look of pure confusion followed. The lady may have been slightly hazy in certain aspects of the surrounding events in the past few days but had not impacted so forcefully upon the window to forget being wedded!
"My...my husband?" she asked in a distant voice as she attempted, to the best of her ability, to recall meeting anyone she esteemed that agreeably... surely she would not forget such a person no matter what circumstance? The young girl looked quite bemused, but presumed the lady's amnesia to be temporary and quite natural for one with a head injury. She turned to the armchair to guide Elizabeth's gaze to the occupant in question, whom was sleeping quite uncomfortably in it. Darcy looked more unkempt than ever; his unruly curls were wilder than even the gentleman had ever witnessed, he seemed to have two days of stubble adorned upon his face and he looked exhausted due to the red and swollen rings directly under his presently closed eyes. The top two buttons of his smog ridden shirt and cravat were undone, as was his satin waistcoat and though they were not the best of friends, Elizabeth did lament that she had caused the gentleman such grief. As Darcy's cheek was resting upon his palm and his elbow balanced on his armrest, his eyes fluttered slightly with the noise the two females were generating and he stirred until he was quite awake. The gentleman blinked a number of times until he realised Elizabeth was indeed conscious and as soon as focus came, he spoke in relief.
"You are awake...!?" Darcy shot from his seat and stumbled somewhat as he attempted to stand, for he had not performed the motion in a number of hours. Elizabeth lifted her arm as an offering and Darcy suspiciously took her small hand and planted a quick and formal kiss upon it, though never removing his bewildered gaze from the lady. He did not understand why she was suddenly acting so, well... decorous but identified from that familiar twinkle in her eyes that she was up to no good. Even confused and in pain, she still had a sense of humour! How did she do it?
"My Love," she smiled sweetly as Darcy pulled away and sat upon the bed. He finally understood. Ah, she has already heard of my telling the inn staff that we are married... but else was I to do? To walk in with an injured girl in the middle of the night and pronounce her as an 'acquaintance'? What would they have thought of me? Elizabeth continued her subtle teasing as Darcy could not help but blush at her discovering that he had told falsehoods. "I heard of your concern and wish to set your mind at rest; I am quite bruised and lightly cut but shall get past it, I dare say."
"I-I am glad to hear it," he said, as his stuttering attempt at deceit was not too convincing though it was as best as he could effort. Nevertheless, the gentleman still could not help but smile as he almost sportingly added, "Mrs Darcy."
"Should I inform Dr Jameson that Mrs Darcy is awake?" The serving girl softly asked Darcy and the gentleman nodded enthusiastically. This question merely caused Elizabeth to feel even more remorse for her slandering him... he even called in a doctor! The girl curtseyed and then hurried out, almost excited with performing the task as she left the two occupants alone in the tiny room. Elizabeth touched her head tentatively once again, which tempted the gentleman to properly inquire after her health.
"How are you truly feeling, Miss Bennet?" He asked in genuine concern.
"As though I have been trampled by a flock of fanatical sheep," She said sighing, and then causing both parties to laugh at her strange imagery and her somewhat odd comparison! "Though I am sure I will survive."
"I am more then glad to hear it," Darcy said smiling. "You know not how I felt when you did not wake." Elizabeth looked upon the gentleman's ragged appearance, realising she had probably kept him up many nights with the deterioration of her physical condition.
"How long have I been out?" she asked, in total ignorance of the recent occurrences and the length of her unconsciousness as she sat up slightly. Darcy stood from the bed as he allowed the lady to stir freely without his weight upon it.
"Long enough! Two days." Two days! No, it cannot be true!
"Please do not joke with me, Sir," Elizabeth said quite seriously... she did not have time to sleep when her father was so ill. "You must be mistaken about the length of time..." Darcy looked quite taken aback by her sudden gravity and nodded quite slowly after a while.
"It has been two days, Miss Bennet. Long enough for myself to call a doctor to tend and examine you and to send my cousin a telegram. He should be sending your money very soon." Elizabeth felt suddenly repentant as she thought of the expense fee... did he truly deserve to be charged such a substantial amount of money? Two thousand of it she knew was necessary for her father... but the extra thousand pounds of the payment? He had seemed so authentically concerned for her and at the time she had pronounced her price the lady had principally asked for it since his incessantness to antagonise her, which he had not done recently. However, Elizabeth had to remind herself that for the chief amount of time in his acquaintance, she was quite unconscious.
"What is the next plan of action, Mr Darcy?"
"I thought you would know, Miss Bennet." She smiled weakly.
"I am an invalid, Sir and am sure this head injury has lessened my reliability as a candidate for navigator - pray, enlighten me with our course."
"Well, this is the address I have given my cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, to direct the money to... so I suggest that we stay here until it arrives. I also believe you should continue to rest, Madam." Elizabeth shook her head adamantly as Darcy's words impacted.
"I believe I have rested a bit too much. In fact, I am quite angry at you, Sir for not waking me sooner." Darcy's surprise could not be hidden since his jaw had dropped slightly. Nevertheless, he soon recovered (perhaps he was now quite accustomed to Miss Bennet's temper) and continued his objection.
"But Miss -"
"No Sir, I am fine. I assure you." Elizabeth pulled away her covers and swung her legs to the side of the bed so her feet were resting upon the ground. Darcy continued to look incredibly discomforted as Elizabeth attempted to stand and he hurried to her side. Giving him a cold glance Elizabeth carried on even determinably. Does he believe me a weak female? I can stand on my own feet without his assistance...
"I must protest, Miss Bennet. I truly believe this is not sensible..." Elizabeth did not take note of his words and with some difficulty, lifted herself up. However, to her own chagrin, once she was upright, her mind suddenly spun uncontrollably and if it were not for the gentleman by her side catching her, she would have injured herself yet again.
"Miss Bennet?!" he called in distress as he held her in his arms; she could not keep doing this to him...! Hazily noting the look of despair upon his features Elizabeth smiled weakly yet again.
"I am fine, Sir. Perhaps you are right... I should rest for a session." The serving girl, whom had an urgent message, was suddenly at the door and noticed the scene; she opened her mouth to speak but halted. Sighing slightly she clutched the telegram in her hand tighter... she wished she was in such love one day and did not appreciate the two were caught in an unlikely position. Breaking out of her romantic reverie the young girl shyly rapped at the door.
"You have a telegram from a Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy."
Chapter 7
Once leading Elizabeth back to the safety of the bed, Darcy hastily opened the letter. Scanning the contents with some urgency yet accuracy, he halted. He could not believe it... he just could not. In fact, the gentleman was such disbelief that he had to revise the communication twice, then yet again. Elizabeth had noted his astonished expression and before she could inquire to his pale and ghostly complexion the gentleman stuttered a clumsy statement.
"Erm, I shall return..." With nothing more, Darcy exited the room, leaving an opened mouthed Elizabeth staring in more concern than suspicion after him. Once in the hallway, the gentleman began shaking his head in utter shock and quite some antagonism. Darcy grasped the letter tighter about the edges as he read the message all over again... for it still had not quite sunken in.
Dear Cousin,
Miss Bennet sounds delightful! If truth be told, I am so very certain of this fact that I categorically refuse to part with any money till she teaches you a good thing or two. I have known you longer than most and know you to have few female friends for we both know how they often react on hearing of the exact amount of your annual income! And now, I finally believe it is time to up the number of ladies in your acquaintance.
Your telegram was quite interesting indeed, Darcy and knowing that I am a creature of instinctive speculating and pronouncing conclusions, you will not be completely astonished that I wish to share a theory and part advice with you. Your constant mentioning Miss Bennet's name when it is NOT necessary leads me to conclude that you are dreadfully distracted and partial to the lady. As you yourself wrote, she is 'headstrong', 'fiery tempered', 'incredibly teasing' and 'seems amused by all you do' - pray, she sounds the type you would be affected by! Is she honestly sporting with the grand and solemn Fitzwilliam Darcy (or have you refused to part your first name with her, as you do with everyone)? I send her all my luck and best wishes; she is a brave soul.
I leave you with one last and final question, Sir and you may ponder it as often as you wish; How fine are her eyes?
Your's, &c.
P.S. I can never understand why you loathe your Christian name so much, cousin. I myself find it to be quite a handsome name indeed.
Once the gentleman had calmed himself enough to not wish to throw spears at the good colonel, Darcy finally rolled his eyes and angrily stuffed the letter into his inside jacket pocket. Trust Fitzwilliam to think of Miss Bennet as a romantic attachment and curse him for being so childish and teasing that he refuses to send my own money! And what was all this nonsense about his mentioning Elizabeth at every unnecessary moment? Fitzwilliam had spoken as though Darcy were... well, quite fanatically infatuated. Shaking his head in ardent denial, the gentleman leaned back upon a wooden beam, both sighing deeply and grumbling abuse at his cousin under his breath. Why would Fitzwilliam think such a thing? All he had ever really conveyed was his annoyance of her character; for it was true she affected him. Well, he was quite increasingly finding himself enjoying her excitable and teasing nature and did quite take pleasure in their debates and heated discussions. And as for her eyes... could he distinguish anything as extraordinary in them as Fitzwilliam had tormented? They did sparkle with wit when she spoke with amusement and their dark intelligence did render her quite uncommonly fine but... Good God, man! You would not even be thinking this if it were not for Fitzwilliam and his harebrained theories! You have never thought of Miss Bennet in that way prior to the present. Now that he has planted this seed into my mind it will continue to irritate and provoke me....
"Mr Darcy?" The lady's sudden interruption practically caused the unknowing gentleman to jump out of his very skin. "Are you quite well?" Darcy turned to see her troubled self standing in the doorway of the sunlit room... why was she suddenly illuminating?
"M-Miss Bennet, you really should be in bed..." Darcy began as he tore his eyes away from her own suddenly distracting ones... He reminded himself more than once that she was still so cuttingly teasing and her connections were so low; he truly did not feel a thing for her. Damn you, Fitzwilliam, for putting me in such confusion!
Elizabeth sighed heavily, though Darcy was relieved to see she was not angry with him as her smile appeared.
"I feel as though I am made of porcelain." Darcy twisted his mouth into a serious grin as he quite gravely and philosophically said,
"Porcelain may be fragile but does not hurt when it breaks, Miss Bennet." Both broke into suppressed smiles as his solemn voice was quite too sombre to take seriously. This initiated the relatively composed and 'unamused' Darcy to surprisingly laugh with the lady - an action he had not ever accomplished so frequently and with such true feeling.
"Aye, I do indeed ache, Sir!" she laughed softly as she grasped gingerly again at her head and leaned upon the doorframe. She was again beginning to feel quite weak and though she did not wish to squander a single second, the lady knew there was no way she could persevere on the road in her present condition. She continued to look upon Mr Darcy's still agitated state and spoke warily as she subtly inquired. "But I did have to confirm that you were quite alright... the letter seemed to unnerve you..."
"I am fine," he cut in quicker and faster than he had truly wished to, causing the lady to believe the opposite of his words. Darcy sensed his atrocious imperfection in lying and knew he could not leave the matter thus. "My cousin seems to er... be having some trouble with posting the money."
"Oh," the lady said softly. What else could she say? Demand it to be in her hand at that precise moment? Darcy, on observing her weak state and knowing that the look of pale melancholy upon her face had been inflicted by his self, felt an absolute monster for not having the exact fee at present. Say something... guarantee her... With as convincing an accent as he could muster, Darcy spoke.
"I assure you that I shall be in possession of the whole three thousand pounds and the extra expenses before we reach Bath. I promise you that much, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth, however, did unconsciously hold a great amount of trust in the gentleman and truly believed his word entirely; a detail which would have eased Darcy's anxieties if he was in knowledge of it. Soon stressing that it was not sensible for Elizabeth to keep standing, Darcy escorted the lady back to her bed once again and called up for the breakfast. As Elizabeth ate, Darcy stood by the window and began to fully examine where he had resided for the last two days. He looked upon the people and was quite astounded as he watched the country trade... so much friendlier and quieter than in town. Though he previously believed that life in the country would be somewhat confined and unvarying for his 'wealthy town upbringing' and taste, during Elizabeth's long resting period he had ventured into town on his own and found it greatly exceeded his expectations. The close knit communities of people, the welcome and most importantly the help they had given him lead the gentleman to finally conclude that country folk were not that bad. Looking back at Elizabeth he let out a small smile, which she quite happily returned as she looked up from her toast. No... not bad at all.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth had not eaten in two full days. This being the situation, it was not surprising that the lady had finished her breakfast cleanly from her plate in a manner of minutes and had called for yet another helping. As Darcy eagerly made his way down to inform the servants of the even hungrier and extremely ravenous Miss Bennet's consumption requirements, Elizabeth sighed as she lay back upon her pillow. She truly wished to leave as soon as humanely possible and though she did sincerely believe Mr Darcy would acquire the money for her, she would feel a little less anxious if she had it at the present moment. And whilst on the subject of Mr Darcy... what a difference a day makes...! How strange Mr Darcy was when he was acting caring! Or maybe he was always this way. It would be a grand deal easier to travel with someone 24 hours a day if they were substantially better than one first estimated. Perhaps it would make the journey more enjoyable than the punishment of their first meeting. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had a feeling that this new Darcy would soon return to his old ways, though the improvement was greatly appreciated. Well, enjoy it while is lasts, Lizzie. When Darcy did return, he was himself holding the tray and presented it quite formally to the lady, whom smiled as she was certain he had probably never performed such a task in his entire wealthy life. Taking the breakfast with a sly smile, Elizabeth again intrigued Darcy... what had he now done to formulate her tease him so? He decided not to seat back down in that infernal armchair, and because there was nowhere else to sit (he had fervently looked) the gentleman was obliged to stand and stare upon the lady as she did him.
"What humours you so, Miss Bennet?" He finally asked as she almost seductively chewed upon her third slice of toasted bread.
"Do you have a first name, Mr Darcy?" the lady inquired with a smile. "Or should I dare to assume that it is Mr?" Darcy fashioned an amused expression as he became conscious they were both still complete strangers to one another.
"Well, Miss Elizabeth. What do you believe it to be?" He asked, somewhat playfully, for he believed it was time to retaliate to Elizabeth's games with his own. The lady squinted her eyes and looked upon him with some closeness and concentration before she finally answered.
"Bartholomew," She said with a nod.
"Bartholomew?" he asked with 'almost' a small bemused smile upon his lips. "Do I resemble a Bartholomew?"
"Very much, Sir," she concealed her smile from the gentleman as she turned her head to examine the sunlit window that illuminated the room.
"Fitzwilliam."
"Pardon?" She turned back for she heard the gentleman produce some type of grumble. With a sigh, Darcy grudgingly repeated his now more expanded sentence.
"My name is Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth paused, then smiled softly.
"I am not surprised." Darcy could perceive from the twinkle in her eyes and the hint of pertness in her tone that there was more to her statement than she was willing to contribute.
"You are not?"
"That name was second on my list. You greatly resemble a Fitzwilliam in both appearance and manners." Ah, another jibe at your expense, Darcy. Hmmm... take it like a man. With a wry smile, Darcy looked with scrutiny upon the lady.
"Since it is you who is declaring such a statement towards my being, Miss Bennet, I doubt it is a complimentary observation."
"You are quick to judge, Sir."
"Am I correct?" he asked and Elizabeth did pause. This move merely confirmed the gentleman's previous stipulations and he continued. "What were you going to say, Miss Bennet? Pray, enlighten me." The lady exhaled quite deeply before she began her premeditated speech.
"I was going to conclude that Fitzwilliam is a name of wealth, some haughtiness and owners of that particular name usually own a reserved countenance. You do not speak well in a crowd. You also own a dark, quite enigmatic appearance - again adding to your quiet and insecure nature." Darcy raised a brow.
"You have analysed my character from just hearing my name?"
"Am I incorrect?"
"What if I were to tell you my name is not Fitzwilliam?"
"Then you should be lying. Your eyes betray your falsehood... they are your downfall, Sir."
"Then I shall resolve to keep them closed in your presence, Miss Elizabeth."
"Ah! You have admitted you often lie to me!" The gentleman produced a small and mysterious smile, revealing nothing to the lady. With a twisted mouth and a little pause, she continued. "Well, is my analysis correct?"
"I believe you are also quick to judge."
"I am?"
"I believe you would not have made such an analysis if we had just met, either Miss Bennet. We have known each other for a considerable amount of time and you have probably guessed all Fitzwilliam's to possess the air you have discovered and presumed thus far in me. I am also assuming you have no other acquaintance by the name of Fitzwilliam."
"Are you suggesting that I am unconsciously pronouncing all Fitzwilliam's to be the way I characterise you?"
"I am." Elizabeth pursed her lips but soon smiled out of her pout.
"We both seem to make sense of each other, Mr Darcy. As you know, I am quick to profess my observations and shall now hazard a guess at our current situation; I tell you your faults and you retort back with my own. We are both quick to judge and felt strong prejudices against one another ever since our first meeting. Your honesty tried me at first, and my impertinence did you... but I think I quite appreciate your brutal honesty." Darcy moved back slightly in almost retreat... what was she up to?
"You are teasing me." Elizabeth laughed at his motions... surely she did not intimidate a gentleman like him so greatly!
"For once, I do not tease. There, I have said it all so you have no need to declare your own opinion in the matter." She smiled at him, took his hand and shook it forcefully. "We have declared peace. A ceasefire, if you will. From now on, we shall not judge the other except on personality and nature from this moment forward."
"Do you honestly believe that to work?" He asked in true inquisition. Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a doubtful smile upon her lips.
"Most likely not," she sighed admittedly. "But at least we are recognising it and making an effort to redeem our past mistakes." Both nodded into an awkward silence as the point of topic and conversation had quite dried up. Tapping his foot upon the floor, the gentleman attempted to respond with an intelligent subject, but alas none surfaced to him. Despite the fact that the two appeared to be becoming considerably better acquainted, they still were not confident speaking to the other and nonetheless owed a slight dislike and uneasiness towards their companion, though opinions were uncommonly improved within the last few minutes.
"Whatever did happen to our quite 'unqualified' driver, Mr Darcy?" Elizabeth suddenly asked as she smiled faintly... she knew she should have been reasonably angry with the elder gentleman for causing her such pain but her playful humour and good natured countenance merely caused her to laugh at the situation. Darcy, however, did not own such easiness and she noticed the irritated emotion over his face.
"I sent him back, Miss Bennet. The man is a total lunatic...! To think he is competent enough to drive..." With a shrug, Elizabeth softly replied.
"I did warn you, Sir." With some reluctance, he returned the hunched shouldered gesture.
"And that you did, Miss Bennet," Darcy answered with no fury or pain; she was justly correct in her analysis.
Stifling a yawn and a smile, Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes with her fists. Noticing every one of these actions, Darcy suggested he leave her to rest, to which the lady flatly refused and snuggled deeper into her comforter, for she had 'slept unhealthily and too excessively'. Darcy turned to put her tray onto the tabletop and again protested to this decision but found there was no need; Miss Bennet was already soundly sleeping before he had turned back to face her.
Chapter 9
Though the gentleman himself had wished it, he could not believe how much a person could sleep! Perhaps he should not have mentioned the idea... but he supposed it was too late at present and he was too much of a gentleman to wake her. Looking back upon his reflection, he sighed with as much satisfaction as his image could coerce him to feel. He had cleaned himself up with a good shave and a change of clothes... something Elizabeth had suggested he do and had given him the money quite enthusiastically. With a wry smile, Darcy believed she had spoken and treated him almost as a mother would a child and though he was not the type of gentleman to enjoy being patronised, Elizabeth did it in a caring way that he found almost more than pleasant. Feeling sheepishly like a maid, Darcy picked the lady's cloak and bag from the floor and as he placed them neatly upon the table, discovered how much of a proficient he had become in the art of folding. However, the gentleman was still quite clumsy in the art of stacking, which was proven when Elizabeth's bag and all its contents crashed upon the ground, due to an inelegant elbow from Darcy. Hastily crouching to the ground, looking to see if he woken Elizabeth and then back to stuffing the items back into the luggage bag, the gentleman suddenly paused as he realised what exactly he was fondling. A pistol... a hairbrush... a tiny crucifix locket upon a chain... - it was surprising how much of a paradox and complication this woman was! Spirited, yet feminine. A rebel though religious... would he ever grow to understand her? Continuing to pack, a stray square of card suddenly captured his curiosity. Turning it until the masculine script scrawled upon it was in clear view, Darcy read the short message:
"With all my love. GW."
GW? The gentleman wondered with a burrowed eyebrow and an inhibited scowl. Whom is GW? A relation? An acquaintance? Perhaps, even more...?
"Mr Darcy?" Darcy shot up into a straightened form whilst a bed-ridden Elizabeth looked suspiciously upon the floor, where all her possessions were strewn about. With a raised brow and a suddenly incredulous expression, she spoke. "With all due respect, Sir; what are you doing with my things?"
"I, err..." the gentleman knew not what would come from his mouth... how would he explain his rummaging through her private belongings? "I-I accidentally seemed to have dropped your, err... bag and was merely putting your things back inside..." Putting the card hastily within the case, Darcy finished packing until there was nothing else to pack and handed it back to the rightful owner. With still quite a lot of suspicion, Elizabeth looked upon and within her bag in some depth. No doubt, he was not a thief. Everything seemed to be in place... and what exactly did she possess that he already could not afford? Darcy self-consciously looked away from the lady as she investigated with much surveillance and even when she had finally sighed with resignation. Although he appreciated he should not have been concerned, he could not help but wonder with some infuriation whom GW really was. He supposed this sudden anxiety was due to her being his travel companion... he felt an obligation to her and in an entirely impartial manner. Was this GW just a blackguard whom attempted to impose himself upon the weaker sex? Though the gentleman honestly believed that Elizabeth was too astute and feisty to be imposed upon, he did not like the manner and style in which the note was written. Stop worrying, Darcy. You sound similar to a father. Elizabeth, though had halted her excavation, still held the small card in her hand and smiled slightly as she looked upon it in some adoration; adding even further to Darcy's curiosity when she had turned the lettering to face him. Then he realised... it was not just a message but it was a painting. She had a picture of 'GW', which was autographed on the reverse side...! Now, if he could only look at it... not that he truly cared to. It was probably a relation... an old uncle or some sort from her mother's side. Nobody too important probably and not a romantic attachment... but if they were not important then why would she carry it with her few essential belongings?
"Mr Darcy," Elizabeth sighed out loud enough to finally gain the gentleman's attention. "Would I be behaving too impertinent if I asked why you have been silently staring at me for at least five minutes?" He was quite taken aback... had he truly been staring at her so?
"It was most unconsciously done," he mumbled into a cough as her eyes narrowed slightly in even further suspicion. She wished she could read into that quiet mind of his... he was such a mystery and it infuriated more than words could state when he raised that enigmatic brow of his. Presently he was staring at the window, which Elizabeth herself did finally gaze upon as his uncanny interest in it seemed a bit unusual. Dear Lord! Was it really evening? Had she really slept for so long...? Darcy sensed her incredulous discovery and coughed again before he spoke.
"Err... the dinner hour has passed but I can ask the servant girl to bring you it now if that is your wish, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth thought for a moment... she had even missed dinner. She had woken when it was time for all to sleep!
"Um... no. I actually am not too hungry." Darcy nodded and started to pick up the blanket that lay upon his chair, then proceeded in throwing it upon the floor. Elizabeth observed for a while until curiosity finally took over and induced her to inquire. "Sir, what are you doing?" she asked with a bemused smile. Darcy looked upon the chair and sighed into a grimace as the memories began to resurface.
"I would rather sleep upon the floor than sleep back upon that torturous thing." Gesturing towards the dreaded chair, Elizabeth could see how utterly awful and terribly uncomfortable it looked. She truly did grieve she had unconsciously inflicted him with such a method of torment! This is all your fault, Lizzie... he will probably need a doctor for his back by the time your head injury is long gone...!
"I apologise for causing you such trouble, Sir. It was most appreciated." To her own astonishment, Elizabeth found herself sincerely thanking and smiling at the gentleman.
"Think nothing of it," he said smiling softly back as he halted his floor/bed making. Ah! Here is the kind and quite sound Mr Darcy... Suddenly averting his eyes back to his unmade bed, the gentleman's features retreated to the former inexplicable emotion and Elizabeth found herself pouting once again. As soon as she made any breakthrough into his character, he quickly slammed the door of discovery and locked it tightly. She did not know what it was that tempted her to look into his temperament so, but she believed it might have been for the fact that he was the first person whom she truly could not analyse simply. He had an aloof and passive countenance and then a cocky side that hardly ever emerged... though she had recently seen much more of a caring and concerned aspect to his person. He was no doubt proud and obviously believed her quite below him, but these aspects she had so resented in him during their first acquaintance did not influence his being a good person. George was not half so difficult to work out! He was amiable, open and artless and the lady found herself liking him very much indeed almost immediately. Darcy, however, was a harder puzzle to work and though she did not yet possess all the pieces to finally complete her understanding of him, thus far she believed the puzzle would be quite a pleasant one to finish.
Chapter 10
"Sir, are you smiling?" she asked into the dark yet warmly candlelit room. Darcy rested the back of his head upon his arm and traced his lips with his other hand to discover that he indeed was.
"I... I suppose I am."
"Well, is it the smile of a madman or does this one genuinely own a source?" she queried the end of her bed as she herself rested upon her own pillow.
"I guess it is an ironic smile." He said in quite some uncertainty. Elizabeth stretched out with a yawn and a smile.
"You guess? If you do not know, Sir, I am convinced no one else will!"
"It is quite a new feeling, Miss Bennet. Perhaps I know it is ironic but due to my inexperience in the feeling, I add the words 'guess' and 'suppose'."
"Well, pray elaborate, Mr Darcy. What enigmatic and new sense of irony are you encountering?"
"It is just that..." he chuckled softly. "I never imagined I would be sleeping on the floor of an inn." The lady snuggled deeper into her bed sheets from across the room as she gave a small laugh.
"I don't believe anyone truly does, Sir. It is not the most dignified or exciting situation to dream of." The lady spoke in amusement as she rolled to her side, allowing her eyes to close slowly.
"Very true, Miss Bennet." Darcy replied, and then yawned quite loudly. Both seemed deep in slumber when Elizabeth revealed she was not with a sudden inquiry, which caused the gentleman to stir and suddenly awake. She supposed it was due to her sleeping for most of the day... and now she was quite tired of continuing so.
"Well, are you feeling ironic in the bitter sense or in a more peculiar one?" Rubbing his perspired forehead Darcy contemplated, though he truly believed it was too late and he was much too tired to answer to the best of his ability. However, he did quite find himself enjoying Elizabeth's incessant conversation more than he previously had - she strangely owned great deal more intelligence that he could have ever imagined.
"More the latter, I think. I am... amused," he finally answered in his deep, and very drowsy, voice.
"Ah, again your tone hints that this is a new experience," Elizabeth's play soon became more sombre and serious as she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I do not suppose you have ever truly quite heartily laughed at yourself or been in odd surroundings enough to find amusing situations."
"I insist on knowing your meaning, Madam." Darcy persevered smiling, as he lifted himself up with his arms and leaned his back upon his side of the footboard; now completely awake. Curse her sleeping at the head of the bed; he could not see her at all.
"Well, let me think of a suitable analogy..." the lady tapped at her head in contemplation, and the noise caused the gentleman to wonder what she was thinking as he leaned his head upon the hard wood. Her feet also joined her meditative rhythm as she lightly tapped them upon her face of the footboard, sending vibrations through Darcy's skull, which he was still leaning upon on his side. With a click of her fingers and a triumphant sigh, she shared her thoughts. "Ah! Yes, I have one..." Elizabeth grabbed her pillow and placed it at the end of her bed, for it was easier to see and converse with the gentleman from that angle. He noticed her change of position and looked up at the direction of ceiling to see Elizabeth peering from the top of bed's footboard. Her loose curls escaped the sanctuary of the bed and fell outside of it and if they were longer, would have fallen to the gentleman's face. "If you fall upon the street, due to not noting a sudden rock - do you find embarrassment or amusement?"
"Embarrassment, of course. But do not we all?" Elizabeth smiled cheekily and her eyes twinkled with the dim candlelight as she proudly spoke.
"I am a mixture of both, Sir. So I am acceptable. Adding amusement to my embarrassment merely paints an easy and well-countenanced image of myself. Your lone embarrassment forces one to envisage that you are red-faced, have no element of jest and are too...well, serious."
"Miss Bennet, you truly do hurt my head." Darcy groaned as he grabbed at his temple; which merely caused the lady to giggle and melt his grimace slightly. "You seem to analyse every word I utter. I have to premeditate each sentence so you do not scrutinise and tear them apart, but alas I fail miserably every time."
"Well, sir. Since you make an effort in retaining your 'premeditated' pattern of speech, I shall not disappoint you. Do you dislike my analysis and questioning because I tell you things you do not wish to hear or because..."
"Your voice is keeping me awake." Producing an angry and heavy sigh, Elizabeth sat up in exasperation and embraced her pillow tighter.
"You are a boring man, Mr Darcy. How are you ever to make acquaintances when you grow tiresome so quickly with conversation?" The more annoyed the lady grew, the more Darcy enjoyed to tease her... to quite his own fascination! Her shift of position caused her to be directly out of the gentleman's line of view and he spoke indistinctly into the footboard of the bed.
"Do not distress yourself over my social life, Miss Bennet. It is only your conversation that tires me out."
Darcy laid his head back upon his cushion as he claimed his victory but this grand smile was hidden as Elizabeth's pillow made sudden and direct impact and hit him clearly upon the nose. Before the gentleman had time to retaliate to the type of move that was never directed towards his self, the lady snatched it back, jumped back to the head of the bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. Darcy rubbed the bridge of his nose tenderly with his fingers and unconsciously revealed a small smile as he could heed Elizabeth's faint and quite muffled laughter from her side of the dark room.
Chapter 11
"Never leave? It was not so very bad here but I shall be glad to see the back of it, Miss Bennet." Darcy answered in composure, though with laughing eyes. He was suddenly so much easier with to speak and so much more entertaining to be in company with. Though he even now spoke in his trademark deep and reserved accent he, without hesitation, could smile freely and had even discovered to laugh at not only his surroundings, but also himself! Elizabeth flattered herself with the hope that this sudden and positive character alteration was due to her influence - and she did quite hope it was. Taking their few belongings, Darcy began to place them upon a bar table. Twisting her mouth into an odd smile, Elizabeth once again observed the gentleman's work for a while before she spoke.
"Would you call us friends, Mr Darcy?" Darcy turned back from the table and looked over his shoulder to the lady as he glanced upon her with some confusion. What had induced her to ask this?
"Pardon?" She repeated herself with a smile and sigh, knowing she would be required to do so... once a question popped into her head she asked it without informing the other (usually quite ignorant of the subject) party.
"Would you call us friends? We are acquainted... but I believed the definition of friendship is something deeper; something that borders upon liking. So, are we mere associates or friends?" I like you very much indeed, Elizabeth. What was suddenly wrong with him? This could not have just been induced by Fitzwilliam's juvenile assumptions - Miss Elizabeth Bennet quite seriously affected him. But how could she not? Her teasing, her intelligence, her looks and those terribly distracting dark eyes of hers...
With a small croak, Darcy managed to speak as her quite glowing face gazed expectantly upon him.
"I would like to say we are friends." He spoke truthfully. Elizabeth nodded in concurrence, and with a bob of her head, her curls bounced excitedly.
"As would I. Good then it is settled." Before Darcy could share his thoughts on the subject, Elizabeth spoke yet again and immediately. "And as official friends, maybe we can finally release ourselves from using our formal names. What say you to that, sir?"
"Fine," He answered with a small smile as he quietly added, "...Elizabeth." With a mischievous glint in her eye Elizabeth teasingly asked,
"May I call you Fitz?"
"Not if you wish for an answer, Madam," He said straight-faced as he picked up her bag and headed towards the carriage. This merely caused the lady to giggle as the gentleman did so only when out of her sight - his dry humour very nearly reminded her of her dear father. Retelling herself of the importance of her father's situation, the lady remembered and reminded herself that he was in need of her to act quickly. Looking back at Darcy, she felt suddenly quite guilty. She had not wished for his good opinion prior to the present and she genuinely did not care if the gentleman considered her desire for the money selfish. But at this moment, the circumstances were all so altered. He was a truly kind man, and she did not aspire for him to dislike her and to believe her gluttonous. To her own astonishment, she found herself attempting to redeem herself in his opinion, for she in all honesty did crave Mr Darcy to, well... approve of her. It was not as though she had feelings for the gentleman... no, not at all. Well, he was unmistakeably handsome and not only kind but pleasurable to be presence with... but he was proud. Elizabeth looked upon the gentleman who turned back around and graced her with a small yet confused smile at her troubled look. Oh God. This strike on the head has taken its toll, Lizzie! You cannot possibly be having feelings for... Mr Darcy? Rummaging vigorously within her quite tiny material hand bag, Elizabeth only ceased once her gloved fingers made contact with that familiar feeling card and she pulled out George's small portrait into the sunshine. Clutching it tightly and pressing it against her chest, the lady exhaled as she attempted to rid herself of these provoking thoughts. Mainly focusing her mind on Wickham's features, Elizabeth finally opened her eyes once she was convinced Darcy was no longer affecting her thoughts. However, this was little help, for the foremost article the lady caught sight of was the distracting gentleman's face... and it did not look well pleased. Initially, Elizabeth was none too certain what had motivated him to look so suddenly bad-tempered but her eyes followed down to his angered gaze, which went quite past her neck to her hand and then ... Dear Lord! He was staring at her picture...! What could it mean? He could not possibly be jealous? No, that could not be it; he probably disapproves of my attachment to George. A man like he would think it improper... he probably believes my behaviour as substandard and indecent... O, The nerve of the man! And to imagine that I began to consider him amiable...! Darcy endeavoured to rein in his unexpectedly quite hostile resentment for a man whose name he did not yet know, let alone a face he had seen. With as much composure as he could muster, he mumbled towards the lady.
"The carriage is ready, Elizabeth."
"Thank you, Mr Darcy," she spoke bitterly as she brushed passed him and then proceeded to sit within the open carriage with crossed arms and a scowl upon her handsome face. With an open mouth and his own body following her direction of movement, Darcy soon gave up trying to understand what had happened. All he truly knew was that they were back to using their formal names once again... hence, they were presently not friends.
What have I done now? O, why should you care, Darcy? Women are intolerable and an entire mystery! I do not believe you should even effort to stab a deduction at your wrongdoings. Sometimes I truly believe the woman is a lunatic... Attempting to slide beside her, Darcy soon discovered that she would not give way and allow him to sit. After many polite pleadings to move, he had had quite enough of this fiery tempered country girl and found himself climbing over the lady's lap to the empty seat beside her. After much effort, the gentleman finally managed to place both feet upon the solid carriage ground and both companions found themselves crossing their arms and each glaring out of their own windows.
"You stepped upon my knee," The lady stated simply as she continued to pout. The gentleman beside her said not a word... merely adding further to Elizabeth's now foul mood. The two sat in quite the most awkward silence that had ever taken place in the whole of history, both regretting their previous actions towards the other. Darcy was the first to talk as the wary coachmen looked at one another in anxiety... quite unsure in what manner they should now follow.
"You should put that picture back within your bag, Madam," the gentleman muttered indirectly to the lady. "You would not wish to ruin it." O! He is teasing me, now is he? Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in irritation as she spoke through he teeth.
"Indeed I do not, and when you kindly remove yourself from sitting on that very bag, I shall follow your wise request." Thinking it a cushion, the gentleman quite comfortably sat upon her bag, but seeing the look upon Elizabeth's face, he fought against the urge of retorting back and refusing to return it. Lifting his body off the small material accessory he casually dropped it into her lap. He knew he should have kept quiet as she put the picture back but he could not help but contain his thoughts... a problem the young Fitzwilliam Darcy had not owned since his childhood. Turning to face her, he unwisely and quite suddenly spoke. His question had quite thrown the lady and she found she could not speak as he asked it with a knotted brow.
"Miss Bennet, why exactly do you need three thousand pounds?"