An Impromptu Bridenapping ~ Section I

    By Elaine J.

    Section I, Next Section

    Chapter One

    Posted Sunday, 7 November 2004

    Elizabeth stood before the alter, barely able to keep from retching all over the minister. The right side of her body, the side closest to the odious Mr. Collins, was numb and icily tingly all at the same time. If his close proximity did this to her, what would she do tonight?! Her only escape was upon the minister’s lips, though she took no hope from it. What possible objections could anyone have to her marrying Mr. Collins? Besides the fact that she herself would rather jump in front of an out of control carriage than have him touch her. But her parents had forced her into this marriage. Elizabeth hadn’t talked to her father since the argument they had had in his library. She had flown from the room with every intention of running away. But Mr. Bennet knew his daughter too well, and when Elizabeth had looked out her window to throw down the bag she had hastily packed, she found a stable boy standing guard. Opening the door to her room also displayed another impromptu prison guard. She was trapped. And so she had stayed until this very moment, when a church full of observers left her no option but to remain just where she was.

    “I object!” roared a deep strong voice from the back of the room. Elizabeth mused that she must be imagining things. But when she heard the rapid fall of footsteps down the church isle, and realized that others had heard the exclamation also, she slowly turned around to face the owner of those fast and heavy footsteps.

    Her jaw dropped to the floor. Before the minister could even inquire whom made this objection and why, the objector stated his cause.

    “I love this woman, and will not allow her to marry such a toad as Mr. Collins,” exclaimed a fiery Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. For the life of him, Darcy could not figure out where he had got the nerve to say such an ungentlemanly thing, but then when he saw the oily groom lay an outstretched arm on his bride, Darcy remembered. He had known her for such a short period of time, and knew he was going against all the propriety and social decorum he had always held dear, but he would not stand by and let his lovely Elizabeth become the property of that… that toady to his aunt! Nothing would stop him from his plan of action. Not even the bride.

    Elizabeth looked on in helpless shock as she felt the cold, damp touch of her future husband ripped from her arm, and was dragged down the isle toward the large heavy church doors. Her new captor drew her forth from her prison and the mockingly bright sunlight blinded her. Darcy threw her up onto a rather large and fierce looking horse, mounted the beast himself, then fled with amazing speed from the scene of the kidnapping. He spoke not a word. He thought not of speaking. There would be time enough for that when he knew they were safe from followers and rescue parties; there would be time enough in Scotland.

    Elizabeth did not desire to speak at the moment either. She wasn’t quite sure that she would find her powers of speech in tact. She was sure they had been thoroughly broken by the shock of Mr. “I’ve something shoved up my arse” Darcy whisking her away from the most awful day of her life. Mr. Darcy!! And something else was nagging at her. It was something he had said before grabbing her away from Mr. Collins. She had been so entirely shocked at see his dark eyes aglow with anger and determination and… something else, that she had paid attention to nothing else. She knew that if she pushed it, she would never remember, so she let her mind fall to other things. It was too much to absorb at once, so she dismissed the very important fact that she was riding a horse, hanging onto Mr. Darcy for dear life, and concentrated on the thought that she was riding a horse. She had never before been one to ride. She distrusted the beasts after she had been thrown from one as a little girl. But she felt no fear now. It was peculiar, she was enjoying the wind pushing her curls from her tingling face, enjoying the steady rhythm of the horse’s movement, enjoying the rolling green country side. She believed that with a little experience, she could learn to love riding.

    Love. With a jolt, she remembered exactly what it was that Darcy had said while storming toward her down the church isle: “I love this woman.” And there had been utter honesty and conviction in his words. She knew, for her eyes had been locked with his the moment she had turned around. Love.

    What was she to do?! She hated this man. He was insufferable, prideful, haughty, and disdainful. She could go on for hours in such a manner, but with only the fourth negative description of her kidnapper, she found herself remembering the way he had said those words, the way his hand, warm and electric, had been such a relief upon replacing Collins’ hand on her arm, the way his eyes had held her own. And, she caught herself thinking, that he is very nice looking. Much more so than Mr. Collins. Very nice feeling also. She blushed at the thought, and the succeeding one in which she postulated that he felt much better than Collins would. Her head was a messy confusion. He was no gentleman. Look at what he had done to poor Wickham.

    But those eyes. She could not get over them. She had never truly tried to understand Mr. Darcy before, always jumping to her own conclusions based on nothing but what she saw with her own eyes. And she knew of several clichéd sayings that reprimanded those who judged by outward appearance. And clichés only became clichés because they were so true. She sighed. When he had locked his eyes with her own on that long stomp down the church isle, it was as if he had opened the door of his soul to her. And she had found it blazing. It was not blackened by misdeeds and evil. She could not make sense of the man she saw in him in that instant and the man that Wickham claimed him to be. Oh how she wished she had an instant’s mirror into Wickham’s soul to see what good or evil laid claim there. But all she had was Wickham’s word, and Darcy’s astonishing revelations.

    Where was he taking her? Should she go with him? Should she make him stop immediately? She knew that if she stayed on this horse she would be forced into marrying him. Was that his plan? But surely not! He hated her! But he had said he loved her! She was too confused to think anymore, and resting her head backward against Darcy’s strong chest, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

    They were not yet in Scotland, but they had made record time and would be safe enough in the small yet respectable inn he knew of in this small seaside village. Pulling the horse to a stop, he gazed down for the first time at the pilfered prize he carried possessively in his arms. Her head was leaning against his chest, a sensation he appreciated greatly, and she was asleep. How any human could fall asleep after an exciting fiasco such as that was completely beyond his understanding, and vexed him slightly. She should be as stirred and passionate as he. Shouldn’t she? Looking at her, the thought that she might not return his affections entered his head for the first time. No, thought he, how could she not love me? I love her. I saved her from having to marry that… that man. He shook his head ruefully, remembering what he had called Collins to the audience of assembled wedding guests. Had she such a hold on him that seeing another man touch her made him exclaim things aloud that he could not now bring himself to utter in his own thoughts? The idea almost chilled him, until he looked at the lovely girl nestled between his arms. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “Wake up.” And she did. And as her eyelids fluttered open, her fine dark eyes grew wide in amazement.

    “I… You… I thought it was a dream.” Then her face clouded over and sitting up straight, she clumsily dismounted the horse by herself, falling straight onto her bottom. Darcy, she was loath to see, leaped from the horse with the greatest of grace and pulled her to her feet before she had a chance to even mutter an oath.

    “Are you alright Elizabeth,” he asked with uncertainty in his eyes. She was alright, but with his eyes upon her like that, she remained as confused as ever before. His soul was reaching out to her from those dark caring orbs and it totally disarmed her. Here she had been all prepared to hate the man who had absconded with her on her wedding day, and now she was not quite so sure how to regard him.

    She nodded vaguely that she was well, then, finding her voice confidently spoke. “We must talk Mr. Darcy. Before we, or you, or I, go one step further, we must talk of what has happened.”

    Nodding his assent to her truthful statement, he took her hand and led her toward the inn. A nearby stable hand took the horse, and Darcy slipped him a few coins. Before they entered the establishment, Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, and leaning down low, whispered in her ear. “I fear the only way to avoid scandal is to procure a room under false names, as husband and wife. I will, of course,” he added, remembering that even though he was now a kidnapper, he was first and foremost a gentleman, “sleep on the floor, and give you all the privacy you require my lady.” She stared at him. Pretend to be his wife? She couldn’t! But then, she was supposed to be married. It could not hurt she told herself, realizing in some part of her that she had shoved down deep, that she had not a clue what she was getting herself into, and that whatever it was, it certainly was not proper. She nodded and took his arm.

    They procured the largest and most accommodating room. It was actually a set of rooms that included a drawing room as well as a bedroom. The drawing room was furnished with a small couch and a large chair, as well as a solid yet scratched and worn table which was being prepared for dinner. Both Darcy and Elizabeth remained quite as the servants brought a warm washbasin, clean washcloths, and food enough for five quite hungry people. They sat at the table and ate rather sparingly for two who had undergone such a strange and stressful day. “You do not eat Miss. Bennet,” stated Darcy awkwardly. “Is something the matter?”

    “Yes,” answered Elizabeth truthfully. “Something is the matter. I believe there are a few things which need to be discussed.” Darcy’s face grew grim and she could sense that he was quite uncomfortable. “Do you mind, Mr. Darcy, explaining to me why you thought it necessary to rip me from my wedding like that?”

    “Did you wish to marry Mr. Collins?”

    “No…” she faltered, “but that is not the point. Answer my question.”

    “Did not my objection this morning answer enough?” Darcy felt severely uncomfortable.

    “Mr. Darcy, I am not at all sure that I heard you correctly this morning. I think I heard you say that you love me. But that is impossible!”

    “Impossible! Impossible! Why should it be impossible that a good man fall in love with a good woman?! Impossible? Just yesterday I thought it impossible that I should ever break any of society’s rigid standards and orders and here I am! A kidnapper and eloper. Nothing is impossible my dear Elizabeth. Least of all my love for you.”

    “Elopement?” Elizabeth gulped the word down. It was impossible that this man should wish to marry her! (There was that word again.) She had escaped from one marriage directly into another. She had traded one hated bridegroom for one despised one.

    Oh but those eyes. Why did they make her question her own judgments so? She was determined to find out the answers for once. She would confront him about Wickham. She did not yet know if she believed him to be innocent of his appointed crimes, but she did believe that he was an honest person. And if he were guilty, would rightly confess. And with this conviction, she started her questioning.

    “You speak of elopement. Marriage. But sir, I have serious doubts about your character, and while even with these doubts you are a hundred times better than Mr. Collins, I refuse to marry a man I am unsure of.”

    Unsure of him?! Unsure of what?! Darcy was startled by these confessions and could do naught but listen as she spoke of Wickham and all his accusations, his twisted versions of the truth, and heard in Elizabeth’s voice a condemnation of himself. Could he have acted too hastily?

    “So Mr. Darcy, I await your side of the tale. And while I doubt your innocence in the matter… for some reason… I trust that you are a truthful man.” She blushed at this, knowing that she had come to this knowledge through perusing his soul as she saw it from his eyes. She felt almost as if she had somehow trespassed. But another voice told her that he had given her the exclusive privilege of this private viewing and that she had only seen what he wanted her to see. “I trust that you will tell me the truth. And…” she added as an afterthought, with a hint of pleading in her voice, “please, do not lie to me.”

    He wouldn’t lie to her, he couldn’t! For he feared that she would see right through him and that she would walk from this room and into oblivion. He told her about his sister’s childish infatuation with his father’s steward’s son. He told her of Wickham’s nefarious plot to gain the Darcy fortune and the innocent hand of Darcy’s naïve sister. And the whole time he looked at her with those eyes. And sighing, she knew he spoke the truth. “I am sorry for having doubted you Mr. Darcy. But I still cannot marry you.”

    Why the hell not! Yelled Mr. Darcy in his mind as his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed in distaste. He would not yell at her. But wait, he had not yet formally proposed! Saving the woman one loves from a wedding to an odious man is quite a chivalrous thing to do, but it does not entitle the kidnapper to an assumed acceptance of a proposal never proffered. Darcy’s fierce gaze unknit and a softer one assumed it’s place. “I am sorry Elizabeth, to be so unmindful. I have not yet proposed.”

    But before he could do so, she interrupted, shaking her head. “No, no Mr. Darcy, you do not understand. I do not wish you to propose because I would not accept.” she did not wait for the shocked reply that was already rushing forth from his lips. “You have given me no hint of your affection. I suffered the greatest shock of my life today from your exclamation of love. I truly had no idea! If it is your manner to court a woman by insulting her and glaring fiercely at her all the time in disapproval, then I do not wish such a courtship!” There was an awkward silence. Elizabeth searched for her next words and Darcy began to think back over the weeks he had been in Hertfordshire. Insulted her? When? Oh… the first ball. He could barely remember that, was it possible that she had overheard him? Such a stinging insult would not soon leave the memory of any maid. He pushed back an embarrassed blush and tried to remember exactly what had prompted him to say such a thing. Hadn’t he always thought of Elizabeth as the loveliest of creatures? Yes, he had, but in the beginning it had vexed him that she affected him so. He had been vexed at her for pulling some invisible and heretofore unknown strings of his heart. Now he did blush. He was truly an imbecile. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “ I am deeply sorry… you can not know. I… I am a complete dunce. I cannot hope that you might forgive me for saying such stupid things. But you must believe at I did not for one moment mean them.”

    Elizabeth had not been prepared for a statement such as that from the almighty Darcy. He was looking down at the cuff of his jacket upon the table, refusing to meet her gaze. “Look at me. Please.” He did. He could deny her nothing after realizing how much of a cad he had actually been, and without even knowing it! She saw pain there, and truth, and that ever-present annoyance to Elizabeth: love. He was making it awfully hard to hate him! She sighed. “I believe you. Yet I still cannot marry you.”

    “Why?” Darcy’s question was forceful, his eyes stern and steely.

    “I…I do not think I can hate you Mr. Darcy. Especially after saving me from a horrible marriage. You have helped me to attain what has been my sole desire for the past week after my father told me of my fate! You have helped me to escape! No, I do not hate you any longer. I believe you, and I trust you. And I have been wrong about you. And I know I should not so readily trust in you. But somehow, this faith in you seems all the more right since I have disliked and fought with you for so long. And who can hate anyone who loves them? But… Mr. Darcy… I do not fully know you. I do not love you. I’ve just escaped from a loveless marriage, I will not willingly go into another.”

    “I understand.” And he did. He understood perfectly. But just because she did not love him now, did not mean that she would not in the future. If he had so changed her attitude toward him in one day, surely he could gain her heart quickly too! He had thrown rules and restrictions out the window with those fateful words: “I object!” Propriety seemed no longer an issue. If escape was her desire, he would help her in any way he could. But escape from him she would not. He had kidnapped her after all. She was his stolen treasure to keep. He was no longer Darcy the proper gentleman. No, he had withered under the fine gaze of a certain lady, and in his stead another had surfaced. Fitzwilliam the Dread Pirate Darcy smiled cunningly at the lady across from him, and took a sip of his soup.

    Elizabeth lay in bed that night thinking of what a beautiful smile a certain gentleman possessed. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing with soft lips and straight white teeth, but there was something more to it. Something she had never seen in it before. But then again, she had never seen him smile before tonight. There was deviltry in it, a challenging smirk and a teasing gleam that appealed to her. She decided, as she fell into dreams, that she would try to provoke that smile as much as possible. It suited the usually austere gentleman, and she grinned in anticipation of the next day.

    Darcy lay awake making plans. He had spoken with Elizabeth of Scotland. It was where he had planned on going anyway, not that he had had any plan to begin with, except for some vague outline of a plot. She had agreed. She could not, would not, go back to her parents now. Let them think she had eloped with another man, she had told him. They deserved it. Darcy had winced at her words. He knew that Elizabeth loved her father, and hated that she should be now so separated from him, physically and emotionally. It was why he would not force her to marry him. Elizabeth obviously did not take very well to being forced into anything she did not like. If she felt pressured by him, she would only run. And he could not have this. So he had requested to accompany her. They could travel as man and wife, deterring all nosy inquiries, and keeping Elizabeth safe from the dangers that would accompany a woman traveling alone. Elizabeth had accepted his proposals only after considering the sea traveling. She had never traveled by sea before, and was clearly anxious about it, though she bravely smiled and claimed it to be an adventure.

    Once in Scotland, she would find some governess position. This was where Darcy’s plans changed. She would not be finding such a position. Rather, he hoped that by the time she came to this point, he would have won her affections and her hand in marriage. Darcy owned a small but quaint cottage on the Scottish moors. It was isolated and without servants of any kind. It was where he went to escape the responsibilities that had plagued him since young adulthood with the advent of his parent’s deaths. He could not wait for his return to it, with Elizabeth as his wife.

    Chapter Two

    Posted on Thursday, 11 November 2004

    In her best Darcy manner, Elizabeth glared fiercely at the ship she was about to board. The sky above it was steely and gray and the ocean it swayed on was a perfect match to the ominous sky. Mr. Darcy was striding ahead with their bags in hand, as if the boat weren’t about to sink underneath him. He handed their luggage off to one of the crewmen and just as purposely, strode back to Elizabeth’s side.

    He mentally congratulated himself on a job well done. Elizabeth looked stunning in the fine dark green dress he had procured for her today. They had realized upon awakening that the only clothes they had were the ones on their backs. And hers just happened to be, quite obviously, a wedding gown. He had insisted on her staying put while he shopped, convincing her that a woman buying clothes in a wedding gown might cause a stir. And, she realized, it might give her a little more time to sleep. She had had an exhausting day and night and her sleep had not been sound. So though she was rather doubtful that Mr. Darcy would be able to find the right fit for her, she let him have his way, and crawled once again into her bed.

    She was awakened an hour later when she heard Mr. Darcy directing a servant to place his packages on the table, and was out of bed, and straightening her appearance by the time he lightly tapped on her door. “Miss Bennet, may I come in?” She bade him enter and gasped at the lovely purchases he held in his arms. There were three dresses in all. All of them colors she had never before been bold enough to wear. One was a rich red, embroidered with silken threads of cream. Another pure white with a pretty blue pattern, and the last was absolutely wonderful. It was a rich green silk that parted slightly at the empire waist to display a graceful fall of light cream of the same material. The sleeves were fitted and trimmed in the same cream material.

    “Mr. Darcy,” she had objected, “I can not accept such finery. I am after all to be a governess! Who will believe I am such in any of the dresses you have bought!” Darcy was not to be so shaken from his purpose.

    “Do you not like the gowns? I thought they would look lovely on you. And besides, you are not yet a governess. Until we reach Scotland, you travel as my wife, and subsequently, must, by all appearances, be so. You must realize that any wife of mine would be finely dressed.”

    Elizabeth did realize this, and was actually quite happy with her kidnapper and now accomplice’s logic. For she did sorely want to feel the softness of at least one of the gowns against her skin. Particularly the green one.

    And so they came to be standing before the ship that would sail Elizabeth to her freedom, and Darcy to his impending happiness.

    Together they climbed the plank that led to the deck of the ship. The captain was there to greet them. “Has everything been arranged as pertaining my orders?” asked Darcy.

    “Yes sir,” answered the captain, “the cabin is all ready. Though, it’s never been used for upscale travelers such as yourselves.”

    “We’ll make do.”

    “Would you like to inspect them before we sail off?”

    “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure you’ve taken care of everything.” Darcy’s words had been formal, noticed Elizabeth, but his attitude, his mannerisms, were not at all. There was warmth in his voice, and a smile on his face that had just not been there in Hertfordshire. This puzzled her. These people on this ship were surely lower socially than her family and neighbors, but Darcy treated them better; he afforded them more respect. She frowned with her thoughts and, absentmindedly, let Darcy lead her to the front railing of the small ship. She mused over these thoughts as the ship pulled anchor and left the port, as the sea winds rose and the choppy waves began to throw the ship gently and slightly.

    I know my mother is overly silly. And so are most of my sisters. But not everyone in the country deserves to be treated with the disdain that Mr. Darcy so clearly treated them with! He is high handed and offensive with some, then respectful and outright friendly to others! Elizabeth frowned out over the ocean as the pit of her stomach began to flip over and over with each new wave the ship crashed over. She had never been on the sea before, and was beginning to think she would not like it.

    “Miss Bennet,” spoke Darcy, noticing the frown on her face. And… surely her face should not be coming close to the same green shade as her gown! “Elizabeth! Are you ill?” Darcy mentally congratulated himself on such a spectacular question. Of course she was ill!

    “I’m afraid I don’t feel so well sir.” She grimaced up at him and without a word he took her below deck to the sleeping quarters. As he was about to usher Elizabeth into the small dark room, a voice from above urgently cried his name.

    “Go in and lie down,” he ordered her. “I shall see why I am needed and return to you with all haste.”

    Elizabeth spoke sparingly through her sickness. “Don’t bother yourself sir. I shall just lie down. I’ll be well soon.” And entering the room, she shut the door in his face. Darcy faced the shut metal door for no less than ten shocked and befuddled seconds until his name once again ripped through the air. Sharply, he turned on his well polished heal, and stomped gracefully up the stairs.

    A disaster had happened up on deck. One of the masts had come loose and punched a nasty hole right through one of the sails. Darcy had spent hours above board helping the crew to fix the disaster. By the time the problem had been fixed, the sun had set and he was too exhausted to think of food.

    Elizabeth. Had she awoken hungry? He doubted that she had. And if anything had appealed to her, it probably wouldn’t have stayed with her. He let a half smile hint at the corners of his laugh and lightly chuckled as he opened the door to their room. The light was on, and Elizabeth was curled up sweetly, asleep, between the covers of the only bed in the room.

    He could not have booked two rooms. They were supposed to be married. Yet he had specifically made sure that the single room would contain two beds. Bunk beds the first mate had told him. There were no bunk beds in this room. Possibly they were in the wrong room. But he knew ships like this only kept one room available to passengers. This was the only room. It looked like he would be sleeping on the floor. Without pillows or blankets of any sort. He eyed the hard corner of the stark and cold room wearily before resigning himself to his fate.

    “Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth had awoken. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and yawned in a way that made Darcy melt. “What time is it?”

    “Sometime after sunset Miss. Bennet. Do you feel better?” He could tell she didn’t. Her face still resembled a lighter, ugly shade of her dress.

    “Truthfully, no. But I will prevail,” said Elizabeth as she swallowed deeply and closed her eyes. If Darcy had not suffered from seasickness himself as a child, he might have been fearful for her well being. But he knew she was in no danger. And rather, her predicament almost brought laughter to his lips. But he could not be that insensitive to his Elizabeth. Indeed, that was no way to woo her. Not that now was the time. Sitting down on the cold floor of the corner, her eyed Elizabeth.

    “Sleep is the only remedy I’m afraid. And I’m exhausted.” And with that, he closed his eyes.

    Elizabeth stared at him in confusion. His long legs stretched out in front of him, his shoulders backed against the wall, and his head leaned over to his right shoulder. His hair was now a mess of damp curls that hung limply and handsomely about his forehead and neck, and his face was red from the ocean wind. Only now did she grow curious as to what had kept him occupied while she lay agonizing in this room. She remembered that he had ran off at the call of his name. “Mr. Darcy…” she enquired, to which he opened his eyes.

    “Hm?”

    “What was so urgent above deck? You look worn ragged! Have you been fighting Ahab’s elusive white whale? And…” for the first time, she noticed the shortage of beds. “You’re sleeping on the floor!”

    He gave her a small tired smile. “Quite perceptive of you. No, Ahab’s obsession could never move me, there were problems with the masts and sails. All hands were needed.”

    “So, you helped fix the boat?” This did not fit in with her idea of Darcy at all!

    “Yes. I did. And I think I deserve some sleep now.” He gave her another smile. “Goodnight Elizabeth.”

    “But why didn’t you ask for two beds?”

    “I did,” he spoke with closed eyes. “But they obviously misunderstood me.”

    “But you can’t sleep on the floor! Especially not after all your hard work.”

    He opened his eyes and gave her a full-fledged soul melting smile. “There is one bed my lady. And you must have it.” Darcy knew a pirate would never be this gentlemanly, but he had to draw a line somewhere.

    Elizabeth did not protest. As Darcy closed his eyes once more, so did she. She lay down, and would have fell into a comfortable stupor had the man in such close proximity not been so utterly uncomfortable. “Mr. Darcy.”

    “Yes Miss. Bennet?”

    “Um… it is not right for you to sleep on the floor. The bed is big enough for both of us. I do not see why two sensible adults cannot be realistic! There are two blankets on the bed. I will get under the second one and you can get under the top one. And… and we’ll have a separation between us, but you will not suffer so.” She was embarrassed at proposing such a plan, but knew that it was the fairest, most sensible course of action. Yet her suggestion met with complete silence.

    Darcy was ruminating. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he wanted to. The gentleman and pirate seemed to be locked in some bloody duel to the death. Only one of them would win. There could be no drawl.

    Darcy did not join Elizabeth in her bed. But still every hopeful in Darcy’s greater common sense, Elizabeth scooted back against the wall, knowing that she had done all she could. He was stubborn, that man, and strange. And different. She couldn’t quite make him out though, ever since he had kidnapped her from her wedding, he had been constantly in her thoughts. She welcomed the distraction from her queasy stomach. She barely noticed it as she slowly began to drift off to sleep. But what she did notice was the creak of the mattress just before she fell into her dreams; the heavy weight and warmth of a hard body just inches from her. Separated by a cover! Ha!

    Chapter Three

    Posted on Sunday, 14 November 2004

    Elizabeth woke up with a heavy pressure across her waist. It wasn’t an unpleasant pressure, indeed it felt quite nice. Opening her eyes and peering down her blanket covered body, she spied an arm, comfortably and elegantly slung across her waist. Turning her gaze to the side, she wasn’t surprised to see the back of a dark curly head. Quickly she reminded herself of her very logical reasons for doing something so shameful, namely sharing a bed with a man unwed. Yes, her motives had been pure: they had had nothing to do with how nice he had felt the day he kidnapped her, riding behind her on that horse, holding her tight in his well formed arms, such a lovely contrast to the would be husband she had left stuttering at the alter… No, nothing to do with any of that, and all to do with being kind and reasonable.

    She had to get up. It was one thing to share a bed out of need and reason, quite another to linger there in the morning. But how to go about releasing herself from his arm with out waking him? She rolled to the left yet found no yield from the wall. If she dared to roll right she was sure to find no yield from the gentleman sleeping there. Hesitating, for a moment, she started to wiggle downward toward the foot of the bed, but quickly realized, the further his arm rose toward her chest, that this plan of action was particularly inappropriate. Wriggling back up, the arm tightened and pulled her close to the torso it was attached to.

    “You move too much,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the mop of unruly black hair.

    Well, she thought, he’d certainly done a good job of stopping her escape.

    “Mr. Darcy, we should get up,” she rejoined, realizing for the first time how ineffective the blanket “barrier” was.

    “Why?”

    Shocked, Elizabeth exclaimed “But you are a gentleman sir! And this is not appropriate!”

    “You suggested the idea,” then added as he rolled his head around to look at his bedmate, “And Mr. Darcy the gentleman has taken a temporary leave of absence.”

    She was relieved to no longer be talking to the back of his head, but his dark sincere gaze which now held something akin to teasing in it very much unnerved her… but not necessarily in a bad way. “What do you mean sir?”

    He grinned mischievously. “He was thrown overboard last night. Now, Darcy the gentleman would never even have taken you up on your most gracious offer of the bed last night.”

    “And who, pray tell, are you sir?” she was grinning herself now, forgetting the impropriety of the moment; lost in the silliness of the moment and Darcy’s daring smile.

    “Fitzwilliam the Dread Pirate Darcy,” he said quite gravely.

    Elizabeth was silent for a mere couple seconds before she burst out in mirthful laughter. Darcy did not see what was funny, yet could not help but let the corners of his grave mouth turn upward at the sight of her smiling and jovial countenance, the sound of her lilting and hearty laugh. “Mr. Darcy, you are so changed from when I first met you.”

    “Changed?” Darcy did not think so. “How so? I am the same now as I was when first I met you, only my heart had not yet been touched. And I’d never before kidnapped a woman and ran away with her to anywhere intent on elopement. But then of course, you stole my heart first.”

    Elizabeth could find no answer for this declaration. Not with him staring so intently into her eyes like that. Those dark deep eyes. She had to break away or else… she had to break his gaze. Quickly, she turned to stare at the ceiling. What had she been asking him? She thought back, he had completely thrown her off with his words. She had stolen his heart, he claimed. How had she never known it?! He was always so grim, so pensive and forbidding. Of course! Now she knew what it was she had told him, he had changed since she first met him. Was the change in him truly all her doing? She blushed lightly.

    “Elizabeth, you’ve been quite for some time. Have I said something to offend you? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I should not have said such a thing.” Darcy was worried. Was she so indifferent to him that his declaration of love, so tenderly delivered affected her so meanly?

    “No Mr. Darcy, you have offended me in no way, rather the opposite I would say.” She blushed a darker shade this time, and looked stubbornly toward the ceiling. She decided to bring to topic back to what it should be. “But you have changed sir, and I cannot think that it was all my doing. I must ask you a personal and rather… uncomfortable question, to ascertain if I’m correct in my appraisal.”

    “Anything. I am at your service.”

    “When… when did you begin to feel… deeper feelings for me?”

    Darcy pursed his lips and pulled his dark brows together, seriously contemplating the question. “Hm. That is indeed a tough question.” One he figured he would answer in the hopes of gaining her love in return. He decided that the more he talked of his love for her, the more she might realize her own. It was a shot anyway. “In truth, I began to fall for you from the moment I saw you. And, again truthfully, it irked me. But your fine eyes soon got the best of me,” he smiled. “But, I believe I knew I loved you when you danced with me at Bingley’s ball. When you challenged me with your gaze and threw verbal spears at my heart, I knew.”

    “You are a strange man, to fall in love with a woman constantly fighting with you. I suppose it must be that no one else had the courage to, and you like brave women.”

    “That must be it,” he agreed, a content smile on his face. She would not talk so comfortably about this if she did not in some way return his regard. He would have to ask her her very own question one day.”

    “But you have proved my point Mr. Darcy. I cannot be the cause of your change. We were still in society long after Bingley’s ball, and you were as grim and rude to my family and neighbors as you had been before that night.”

    “Grim and rude! I’ve never been rude to a soul, unless they deserved it!”

    “You are either self delusional, or a liar Mr. Darcy!” admonished Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in bed and turning her head to glare at him.

    “I am neither!” shouted Darcy, mimicking Elizabeth. They both sat there in the crumpled bed, on a tiny boat being tossed about by the gentle sea, and glaring at each other ferociously. “Explain your words madam. So I may better understand your allegations and defend my actions.

    “From the moment you took your place in the tiny sphere of our country society, you have looked down on us, refused to see beyond our meager fortunes to the people who lay beyond. You would not dance but with Bingley’s sisters at that first ball, when many girls sat along the walls without partners.”

    “Would it help if I said there was but one lady I desired to dance with that night?”

    “I would not believe you sir. I have heard your mumbled yet scathing comments to your friend Miss. Caroline,” there was a hint of venom in Elizabeth’s words when she all but spit out the name. “My family may be silly, but we are still gently born and bred. We may have no fortune to back our names and marriage prospects, but we are still of your station sir! I do not see how you managed to fall in love with me while hating my family and station, and seemingly hating me, the entire time!” She was livid. Forgetting propriety and decorum, she crawled right over Darcy and out of the bed. She stalked across the room, grabbed her one small bag, and marched to the small water closet that was adjacent their room.

    Darcy was left startled and fuming and alone in the bed. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest before standing up and storming out of the room. Above deck, he leaned against the ship’s railing and looked out over the dark, gently rolling sea. He had not been cold and aloof! He had not been rude and condescending! He had simply been… simply been himself! He mentally sent him back weeks past, further and further, sent himself back to the beginning. In his mind’s eye, he surveyed himself in his memories. It was possibly his attitude could be misconstrued for a sense of superiority. But it wasn’t. He knew that, but no one else did he reminded himself. He knew why he had acted so. But he did not know if he could admit this flaw to Elizabeth!

    Darcy was shy. Horribly so. He remembered now that he had had so little friends while at school because of this malady. Bingley had been the only one determined and friendly enough to approach Dead Man Darcy (called so because of the dead, cold look on his face when in foreign company) and take the time to break down all of Darcy’s carefully constructed walls. Bingley had helped Darcy overcome his social fears somewhat, but the darker and more somber man was still somewhat of a loner, feeling more comfortable in his own presence, than in the presence of others. Until now. He felt more comfortable now when Elizabeth was by his side than even when he was alone.

    He had to tell her. But would she believe his excuse? The great lord and rich man Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had slept in her bed and just asserted his existence as a pirate was shy? She would never believe him. But he would try. He went back to the room, searching for a clean change of clothes, some fresh water to wash up in, and a lovely lady to apologize to.

    She was not in the room. Worried, he knocked on the door to the water closet. No answer. He opened the door to find the small room bereft of any occupants. Calming himself, he made good on his other desires, a clean outfit and a brief scrub, and left the room in search of his captive. More like my captive, he corrected himself. She was nowhere above deck, and the captain had not seen her all day. Darcy’s heart began to race, his pulse quickened and he took deep breaths to calm himself. One had to stay level headed when faced with a likely disaster. He searched to rooms in the ship one by one, which didn’t take very long as the ship was extremely small. The last room in the boat was probably the one he should have checked first. But men in distress are not the most levelheaded of creatures.

    She was sitting on top of a large, weathered, sliced, cut, yet steady table. Knives, pots and pans of all kinds hung dangerously above her head. A rather sharp and large knife grazed closely against a black curl. Quickly and deftly, Darcy jumped through the door into the kitchen and grabbed Elizabeth from the table. Not expecting such a thing to occur, Elizabeth let out a startled yelp. “Mr. Darcy! I shall never get used to you snatching me away from things. I do hope you do not make a habit of this! Could you relate to me the reason for this snatching? I do not think it could be ‘I love this woman’ this time!”

    “Unfortunately you are wrong. That statement is, most likely, at the root of it. You had a knife hanging above your head! Into your hair! Excuse me from feeling a bit concerned at the site. We are on a boat, being tossed violently about by waves!” He still held Elizabeth close to him, and would not have gave way had she not withdrew herself from his arms.

    “Violent! The sea is so gentle today I can barely feel it… which is a good thing.” Then she added as an afterthought, “I am angry at you sir. And not because you pulled me so startlingly from the kitchen table.”

    Darcy frowned. Could she not see that she could have been killed? She was reckless. She needed someone to watch over her. But he would never have the pleasure of such a task if he did not gain her trust and friendship again. “Elizabeth, Miss. Bennet, you were right, my behavior has been abominable. But I can explain.”

    “I do not wish for excuses Mr. Darcy. What can you explain? There is nothing to explain.”

    “But I fear there is. It… it embarrasses me to admit this to you… I… I am shy.” He said this last part under his breath, quickly.

    “You are what sir? I did not hear that last part.” It would have been a miracle if Darcy had heard himself, he had said it so low. Diverting his eyes from his own, he stared down at his boots and repeated himself.

    “I’m truly sorry Mr. Darcy, but I must have you repeat yourself once more. And look at me this time… please.” He did as she bade, but not first without a grumble. And once more Elizabeth saw truth. There was embarrassment, anger, pleading, and truth. “I believe you sir. Will you have breakfast with me? And tell me of this peculiar malady, and how it causes you to act like an ogre?” she smiled brightly at him and he found himself smiling slightly back. They had a wonderful, revealing breakfast. And indeed, the rest of the journey was very pleasant indeed.

    They slept together the next night also. And again, Elizabeth woke up to a heavy arm around her waist. This time she did not wriggle away from it, but snuggled up against it until the man who owned it slipped silently from the bed. She feigned sleep until he had washed and left the room.

    They stood together at the rail of the ship, looking out across misty waters and low hanging skies to a tiny sliver of land that loomed in the distance. His arm had snuck around her waist and she had let it stay. This would be over when they reached that tiny sliver. She would start searching for a job as a governess and he would leave her to go back to his home. He might even go back to Netherfield and his friends the Bingleys and Hursts. She blocked the thought from her mind and with all her bravery, leaned her head upon his shoulder. The act made him tighten his arm around her waist lean his own head against hers. He was winning her. He knew he was. He let himself hope he was.

    “What are you thinking of Elizabeth?”

    “Netherfield,” she answered truthfully without thinking. She would not let him think she had been thinking of him. “I was thinking of my sister, and your friend. And how they must miss us and wonder where we are.”

    The thought of Bingley and Jane together bothered Darcy. Would his friend still be in love with the elder Miss. Bennet? Did she truly return his affections or was she simply a fortune hunter. Her sister was not that certain. Though he could not say as much for the rest of her family. Especially the mother. He did not voice these thoughts, but having the one person who might be able to relieve his worry about his friend and his “angel”, he could not keep completely silent. “Elizabeth, I have a question.”

    “Hm?”

    “Your sister… does she know that Mr. Bingley seems to be in love with her?”

    “Yes! Who could not see what is so plainly writ in every crevice of his face, every intonation of his voice,” she laughed.

    “Does your sister love him back? Where it is quite obvious to see how Bingley feels, your sister’s own heart is unreadable my lady. I do not wish for my friend to make an offer of marriage and be turned down. He is of a sensitive temperament. The last time he was “in love” he was heartbroken for several months. Though I do not believe he was truly in love that time. Yet, I cannot help but feel that he truly is this time. I would just like to know that your sister feels the same… and that her motives are pure.” Maybe, he thought afterwards, I should not have added that last part. Hopefully she would not take it the wrong way.

    If he had seen Elizabeth’s face, he would have seen it become quite serious before she answered. “My sisters motives are pure sir,” she answered coldly, though she did not move from his side. “And she is very much in love with your good friend. And I sincerely hope he voices his adoration soon, for I would love to hear of Jane’s happiness if I cannot see it for myself.”

    She was not mad at him. Thank the wonderfully good Lord! But she sounded sad. She did not think that she would ever see her sister again, or at least not soon. But he would take her wherever she wished to go! And especially if it was to see the two people most dear to them wed. He only hoped that they would be wed when they went, or else… or else they would not be there he reminded himself. Because it would not be proper to travel together, to live together in sin. Then did she not return his feelings? Did she not count on his marrying him?

    “Elizabeth, what shall you do when we land?” he asked tentatively.

    “I shall place an ad in a local paper for anyone needing someone to fill the position of governess.”

    “Where will you stay?” He now turned to face her, taking each of her hands in his own.

    “I suppose I shall find a room in some village until my ad is answered. Then, of course, I stay with my employer.”

    “In some small cold room where you will catch your death of cold.” He peered intently down at him but she refused to meet his gaze.

    “I have no other option. I cannot go home. I cannot marry Mr. Collins. Will not!” she added to enforce the matter. “The only other choice I have is to find employment. The only employment I am suited to is governess.” She looked out at the sea as she spoke these words, and felt her hands in his like hot coals.

    “That is not your only option Elizabeth. Do you not know that?” Asked Darcy, forcing her to face him. She had tears glistening in the corners of her fine eyes and Darcy, brushed them away, wishing he could do so with his lips.

    “I am not sure if there is another option. I do not dare hope for another one. The hope, the feeling, is so new in me, so new to me, that I know not what to do with it.”

    “May I show you what to do with it Elizabeth? Will you let me show you?” His face crept closer to hers. Yet, even inches from her mouth, he halted, waiting for an answer. The pirate in him pushed him to dip down and take what he wanted, but the gentleman was adamant. He would wait for her consent.

    “Please do. For I fear I am lost and need a guide.”

    “Gladly my lady.” And with those words, he leaned in brushed her soft lips with his own. They stayed in this embrace for quite some time as Darcy led Elizabeth on a trip of rather startling and life changing revelations. She pulled her hands from his hands and ran them through the hair at the nape of his neck and he mimicked her action.

    A whistle from behind them pulled them apart. The looked behind them to see a crew member smiling broadly, happy to see the physical love of the “married” couple. He chuckled as he went about his business and left Elizabeth and Darcy once again alone on the deck.

    “Are you still lost?” choked Darcy.

    “So that I fear I shall never find my way out!” she replied. “But, as long as you are my guide… then I shall brave it.”

    He had no choice but to kiss her again. She had no desire to turn him away.

    Chapter Four

    Posted on Thursday, 18 November 2004

    When they stepped off the boat onto the firm Scottish soil, Darcy carried their bags straight to the nearest respectable inn. It would still be a day’s carriage ride to his estate and he and Elizabeth would need a roof over their heads. The night was crisp and inky black and Elizabeth’s steps were slow and sleepy.

    Darcy had not allowed her to sleep aboard the ship that night. “We shall sleep in a real room tonight,” he had told her. “And in separate beds.” This was his real reason for keeping Elizabeth up well past the witching hour. He did not want to leave her side, yet he knew he could not share a bed with her tonight and be a patient man. He must have a wall between himself and the object of his desire, no matter how much it pained him.

    He paid for the rooms and followed the small boy up the stairs, a sleepy Elizabeth on his arm. The boy opened two doors side by side that led to Darcy and Elizabeth’s adjoining rooms, then left when Darcy handed him a small shiny coin.

    “Sleep,” he said to the yawning woman before him. Following her into one of the bedrooms, he kissed her softly on the lips. “Strangely, I am not yet tired. If you need me, I will be downstairs in the tavern. I have many things to get ready. Many plans to make my dear.” He smiled at her as she shook her head in acquiescence, and left the room.

    Mechanically, Elizabeth washed her face, changed for the first time in several days, into a night shift, and threw herself under the covers. Pulling the warm blankets up to her chin, she closed her eyes to fall asleep. Or rather, tried to fall asleep. But she couldn’t. She tossed and turned and flailed once or twice. Something was wrong. Sitting up against the simple wooden backboard of the bed, she crossed her arms across her chest and wracked her now alert brain for the problem. Why, when she’d been so tired, practically dead on her feet a few moments ago, could she not now fall quickly into a peaceful slumber? She was in a bed, was not being tossed about by the sea, it was probably close to morning, and she KNEW she was tired. Why then couldn’t she sleep?

    Perhaps…perhaps it was because of these things that she could not sleep. She had grown accustomed to the gentle toss of the ocean, to the small hard bed, to… yes, she had grown accustomed to the presence of Mr. Darcy beside her… Fitzwilliam. He had told her to call him William. Fitzwilliam was his cousin whom he knew she’d love, though not as much as she loved himself of course. She smiled with amusement at the memory of his words.

    So it was because of Darcy that she could not sleep. Her mind searched him out, and now so did her body. Lighting a candle, she pulled her dress back on, and quickly fixed her hair in a small mirror. She tripped lightly down the stairs in search of him, and asked the woman in charge if she had seen him.

    “Mr. Darcy has taken a private room in the back my lady, for his supper.”

    Elizabeth hadn’t eaten all day! She’d simply forgot about food. But now she felt her empty stomach complain and headed toward the direction the good lady had indicated.

    The door was slightly ajar and a warm crackly light spilled into the shadowed hallway. Elizabeth stole slowly closer, and as she did, heard soft voices from beyond the door. One of them was Darcy’s. the other voice was unknown to her.

    “Well my boy, I saw the young lady in town,” said the unknown voice.

    “Yes,” came Darcy’s strangely cold one.

    “Yes. It’s said she’s to be your wife!”

    “My wife! And who was it that led you to believe this false conclusion? For I must admonish that there is no truth, whatsoever, in that statement!” There was fire and anger in his words.

    “Then you are not to marry?” calmly asked the stranger.

    “No!”

    Elizabeth could take no more. She stalked away from the door, up the stairs, and threw herself on the bed fully clothed. If he did not intend to marry her, then what exactly did he intend to do?!

    The cad! She thought he had been sincere in his protestations of love; thought he’d had noble and pure intentions! She thought he was a true gentleman!

    Her clenched fists loosened, her eyes, which she had slammed shut, popped open wide, she sat bolt upright in the bed as the truth of the situation and the realization of her own naiveté slammed into her.

    “He is a bloody pirate!” she yelled at no one in particular. Had his actions been those of a gentleman? No! He had kidnapped her, charmed her, and shared her bed. He had made a fool of her. And to think, he had even told her the truth of the matter: “Darcy the gentleman was thrown overboard,” he had said, “I am the Dread Pirate Darcy.”

    She had found it amusing and exciting at the time to find out that stiff spine Darcy had a sense of humor. Now she knew it wasn’t humor, it was truth.

    There was no way she would find rest and reams tonight. Not now. Keeping her anger in her heart, to keep the pain at bay, she swept over to a small desk that contained paper and ink. Thinking as she dipped her pen in the ink well, she began to write.

    Has Elizabeth arrived at the half open door sooner, she would have heard Darcy welcoming the sight and company of an old friend. “Mr. Jones! How wonderful to see an old friend of my fathers!” Mr. Jones had been considerably younger than Darcy senior, and considerably younger than Darcy junior, putting in just in the middle, and accessible to both father and son. His untimely departure to America after Darcy senior’s death was a great loss to the younger Darcy, and the young man welcomed warmly the familiar face.

    “How is Georgiana? And Pemberly?”

    “Wonderful, wonderful! Though,” his face grew somber, Georgiana had a few problems last year. She is a brave, strong girl though.”

    “Yes, yes she is. I hope everything is alright William,” said the man with fatherly care.

    “Oh yes,” replied Darcy with a glint in his eye,” it is and soon will be better.”

    “I think I know to what and whom you refer to.”

    “Oh you do?” Darcy was confused. “Of course you do. I’m sure it is the biggest scandal,” said Darcy without the least bit of shame.

    “Scandal? Oh no, to no one but those who “really” know Miss. Caroline Bingley.”

    “I’m not sure I follow. We must be speaking of different things.”

    “Well my boy, I saw the young lady in town.”

    “Yes?”

    “Yes. It is said she is to be your wife!”

    Of course we already know the objections that fell from Darcy’s lips after such a statement. And it is also tragic to know that, because fate and eavesdropping always work against the happiness of a couple, Elizabeth left at a most inappropriate time. For with Darcy’s stern negative to the idea of marriage, she left, and the vile woman’s name once again graced the lips of the two men ensconced in the fire lit chamber.

    “Damn that Caroline Bingley!” cried Darcy.

    “Calm your temper boy, calm your temper. Her rumors can do you no harm, but tell me, you mentioned a scandal. How could such an illustrious and proper name as yours be so associated?”

    Darcy told him all, glad for a fatherly shoulder to help bear the weight of his actions and thought.

    Mr. Jones laughed…heartily. Long, loud guffaws that carried upstairs to a stoic Elizabeth who heard not but the scratch of pen on paper and the whirl of thoughts in her head.

    “So this is the woman you will marry eh William? If she can tempt you to do that, then I cannot wait to meet the maid!”

    “I wish you to Roger, tomorrow perhaps? Will you witness our wedding?”

    “Gladly, but first I must gather my daughters.”

    “Your daughters? I… I never knew you had daughters, or children of any kind! How old are they?” How had he known this man for as long as he had and not known this? Surely they were new babes. Surely he had picked up a wife and children in America.

    “Yes. Elaina and Rene. Twenty and sixteen.”

    “Twenty and sixteen!”

    The man laughed. Hard to believe, I know.”

    “How come I never knew of them Roger! Did my father know?!”

    “Yes, he knew. They lived with their mother, who lived in New York. That is why I moved the America William, to be with them.”

    “How come they didn’t live with you?”

    “Because my wife left me, and took my daughters. I had not seen Elaina since she was four, and had never seen Rene. Not until I tracked them down in New York.”

    “I had no idea. I’m sorry.” Darcy was deeply affected by the pain he saw deep in the older man’s eyes.

    “That is all past. I have my daughters now. And I should love to introduce them to you and your lovely fiancée.” He smiled, abolishing all pain from his features.

    Darcy went to bed soon afterwards. He checked in on Elizabeth’s sleeping form then, with some visible effort, tore himself from her peaceful visage to crawl into his own bed. With a wall between them.

    He did not see his lovely captive until the next morning. He had taken breakfast in the same back room when she came calmly storming in. He did not understand how she could be calm and stormy at once, but her frozen features and cold movements together with that tumultuous, furious look in her eyes, spoke of trouble. What had happened? She slammed a newspaper on the table beside his breakfast plate.

    “I was lucky to find the printer open last night.” It was a lie. She had banged on the printers door until he gave her entrance. She had told him so sob story to coerce him to print her ad.

    “What is this?” Asked Darcy, picking up the paper.

    “Read. It’s quite obvious what it is.”

    Darcy picked up the paper and silently read to himself. Quickly, he reached the part that was of most interest to both of them. Finished with the offending and rather surprising advertisement printed there, he raised an eyebrow and hurt gaze to Elizabeth. “Is this you advertisement?”

    “Yes. I just thought you would like to know. I’m sure a reply will arrive for me soon. I will be off your hands for good sir.”

    “Elizabeth?” Darcy rose from his chair and stepped tentatively toward her.

    “No. I’ve made up my mind. I will not be played with. Our dealings are done sir.” And before the shock of such a statement could register in Darcy’s wounded mind and heart, she was gone.

    Chapter Five

    Posted on Sunday, 21 November 2004,

    Elizabeth was surprised to get an answer to her ad so quickly. Before she could lay her head on her pillow, the very day she threw her ad at Mr. Darcy, a heavy cream-colored envelope arrived addressed to her. It could only be one thing, she thought as she sat down at the little desk in her room. She had kept herself busy all day, remaking her wedding dress. She refused to wear Darcy’s gowns. They were not befitting her new station in life. In them she was not her own woman, she was Darcy’s. A day before, this thought might have made her feel a possessiveness toward the man who bought her such nice dresses. Today… she wished not to think about it. She had removed all the lace, all the pearls, from her dress; she had carefully pulled the intricate embroidery from its bodice. When she was done, it was a simple white gown devoid of all decoration and embellishment. It was plain and course. Perfect for her new station in life. She lifted out of the daze she had fell into and carefully opened the letter.

    Miss. Bennett,

    My children and I have just recently arrived here in Scotland. I was relieved to see your advertisement, as I am looking for a governess for my young son and a companion for my daughters. If you agree, your services are greatly needed immediately. I have no time for a reply to my letter. If you accept this job, simply be in front of your hotel at six tomorrow morning. A carriage will be waiting to take you to my estate.

    Before you make your decision, I feel you should know that my name is synonymous with scandal. Your reputation might be tarnished for taking a job related to my household. All my servants take this risk. Is it one you are willing to take? If you accept my offer, we will discuss a salary once you have arrived.


    Sincerely,
    Mr. Roger Jones

    Elizabeth was no stranger to scandal, especially not lately. She liked Mr. Jones’ honesty; it spoke of a respectable man with a sense of humor, despite his reputation. She knew that she could not impugn on Mr. Darcy’s hospitality any longer. She would pay back every penny for the dresses and room; she would be in that carriage at six.

    The travel in the carriage had been lonely and tiring, but the house Elizabeth rolled up to was incredible beyond belief. It was a Scottish castle overgrown with the richest green ivy. The rolling hills that surrounded it were bright indeed, a glowing green backdrop for the deep green and gray of the castle and it’s ivy. She was shown upstairs to her room by a bright-eyed young maid who was too shy to talk unless spoken to.

    “You must be mistaken,” admonished Elizabeth. “This room is too grand for me! Surely you’ve shown me to the wrong room.”

    The maid looked nervous, the small smile on her lips disappearing. “Oh no ma’am. This is the exact room. The master showed me himself.” She decided to be offended instead of scared, and with a flip of her nose upward, left the room and closed the door behind her.

    Elizabeth, who had been expecting a small cold room somewhere close to the children’s quarters had every right to be surprised by the elegance that confronted her. She sat with a thump on the bed, feeling quite overwhelmed. She would take up the subject of her lodgings with he employer when first she met him. With this thought, she went to the mirror to tidy herself up before being shortly presented before him. She was pale and tired looking, and the simple white dress that was wore on the day that was supposed to have been the end of her life, but ended up being just the beginning, washed out her features even more, making her look almost sickly. But, she sighed, there was nothing to be done about this. She could not afford new clothing until paid Mr. Darcy back. Which she would do. She felt quite certain that he would try to fight her on this, but she would fight him back every step of the way.

    A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”

    “Miss. The master wishes to see you now.” Nodding her head, she followed the maid down the grand staircase and knocked on a large dark wooden door to the right.

    “Come in!” said a jolly voice from the other side of the door. The maid opened the door, and granted a suddenly shy and nervous Elizabeth entrance. The man she saw sat in a small yet comfortable looking chair to the side of the large mahogany desk centered in the room. “Ah! You must be the incomparable Miss. Bennett,” said the man, rising and striding across the room to grasp and thoroughly shake her hand. He was tall and well built with warm brown eyes and hair that was slightly silvered at temples and sprinkled like pepper throughout. He had laugh lines about his eyes and mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.

    “Yes,” said Elizabeth, making a slight bow once he had released her. “Are you Mr. Jones?”

    “Yes, yes my dear, I am the very man. Now, have a seat my dear, and we’ll discuss you’re wages.”

    “Before we do… I think that I’ve been put in the wrong room sir.”

    “Oh no. I’m sure you were put right where you were intended to be put.”

    “Oh no, the room is too grand sir. Surely there is some mistake.”

    “Hm. Well, if you insist, but I would know nothing of it.” Mr. Jones’ face went beat red. “I’m afraid I’ve not been completely honest with you Miss. Bennett.”

    The very man she had admired for being utterly honest in his letter! All men were the same! First Darcy, then her employer… sigh. “Yes Mr. Jones.”

    “This is not my estate Miss. Bennett. It belongs to a very good old friend who is providing me and my family with sanctuary while in this country. I’m afraid he is the one who has housed you in such an unsatisfactory manner.”

    “Oh, I had no idea. My presence here isn’t unsatisfactory in any way is it?”

    “Oh quite the contrary dear,” said Mr. Jones slyly.

    “Excuse me?”

    “Nothing dear, nothing. Let us go up and meet the girls. I’m afraid my friend and master of this house has abducted my son Hinton. You will meet him later.”

    With that, she was swept upstairs to a series of large rooms on the third floor. She was ushered into a quaint little sitting room in between two bedrooms. Much to her amazement, two of the most exotic girls she had ever seen stood facing each other off in the middle of the room. Both had long curly dark hair that hung down their shoulders, defiant of all decorum and propriety. When they noticed that they were no longer alone in the room, they turned their sparking glares toward their father and guest. They were of the same height and build. The one on the right had slightly darker hair and lighter brown eyes, though her irises were not far from black. Her sister’s hair had more auburn in it, more sunshine to it, and her eyes were as black as coal. Their skin was not the faint porcelain so coveted by Miss. Bingley and the rest of polite society. They were tanned darkly, the girl on the left more so than her sister however, whose skin had more of a dark olive look to it. “Hello father,” said the girl on the right. There was a sincere look of affection in the girl’s eyes.

    “Hello father,” echoed her sister, who still possessed an angry spark in the black wells of her orbs.

    “Girls, I simply do not want to know what you were arguing about. I’m here to introduce your new governess.” The one with the darker hair shot him a deadly look. “I’m sorry, your new companion.” This seemed to appease her. “Miss Bennett, this is my eldest, Elaina,” he stepped toward the girl with the darker hair and affectionate eyes. They shook hands. Stepping to the other girl he announced, “And this is Rene, my youngest. Sixteen. Has yet to come out you know. She should this year. But we’ll see.” Rene gave him a deadly scowl.

    “I will be out this season Miss Bennett, whether my father approves or not.”

    Elizabeth’s eyes widened and Mr. Jones stepped closer to the door. “I’ll just leave you ladies to get better acquainted,” said the cowering man as he left the room and practically ran down the hallway.

    Elizabeth was left alone staring down her two charges, or rather, they were staring her down. “Well,” she said, not knowing quite what to say.

    “Well,” they said in unison.

    “You two could pass as twins! You look so much alike; only small differences.”

    “We do not!” admonished Rene.

    “Haha. Some say we do, some swear we don’t. It’s all in the eye of the beholder, as is everything else,” replied Elaina. Her younger sister rolled her eyes.

    “What is your first name?” asked the younger brazen beauty.

    “Rene! Don’t ask that!”

    “No, it’s fine. My name is Elizabeth. And now it is my turn to be bold. Why were you two about to tear each others heads off when I came in?”

    Both girls’ attitudes froze up and their glares turned fiery. The eldest answered first. “The same thing we always fight about, our mother.”

    “Don’t you say a word about her!”

    “She took us from our father! She cheated on him! She left me to raise you!”

    “You were never my mother! She raised me, not you! Why do you hate her for living her life!?”

    “I do not hate her! I simply don’t respect her! She was a lively person! A horrible mother!”

    Elizabeth could see that they were about to start throwing fists; she had to do something and fast. “Girls!! Girls!! I think it’s time we left this alone! If neither of you will listen to the other because you’re so bent on screaming at each other, then this will lead no where good. I have four sisters of my own. What helps when we get in fights is separation. Now, each of you to your own rooms.”

    Both girls turned annoyed gazes on her. Startled, she focused all her attention on not running away, and stared defiantly back. “Fine! You do not have to listen to me! But I will not stand here and listen to you scream at each other!” Elizabeth left the room, slamming the door after her. But she seemed to have slammed one door and walked into another. But it wasn’t a door, it was a man. Looking up, expecting to see Mr. Jones, she tried valiantly not to faint at the man she did see there. There the pirate stood in all his frowning glory. She lost, she fainted.

    Chapter Six

    Posted on Sunday, 28 November 2004

    Elizabeth awoke to four very curious pairs of eyes staring at her. Not willing to feel or think for the moment, she contemplated the various gazes. The two to the left of the bed were dark bright eyes fringed in thick lashes, their gazes ranged from bored to worried. The gazer who stood next to those two was… shorter and lighter. The little dark haired boy who peeked over the edge of her bed had the bluest eyes she had ever seen, and they were filled with wonderment. The last gaze that fell on her was the most uncomfortable and all encompassing she had ever been exposed to.

    Darcy’s deep eyes kept hers, and as always, she was able to read the depths of his soul there. He was confused, and hurt… and determined. She found it hard to remember why she had been so mad at him. Finding her voice, she spoke, but… not so intelligently.

    “I did not faint,” she announced. Both girls at the end of her bed burst into mirthful laughter and their small brother’s face lit in a playful smile. The smile of the tall man however, was more serious, and more solemn.

    “I would never accuse you of so heinous an act my lady, but I’m afraid we have witnesses,” he swept his hand toward the three beside him who wore the looks of innocent angels. The eldest daughter, Elaina, spoke up.

    “He,” she said referring to Darcy, “would have us leave you and he unattended in your room. But I would not hear of it! I don’t care if he is master of this house! It would not be proper!”

    “Oh there you go again,” muttered her sister. “Always after what is proper. I say let them alone! It’s romantic!”

    “Well, if you’re so set on letting them alone, then why’d you follow us in here?!” Elaine beamed, predicting her rightful victory to that last verbal battle.

    Darcy interrupted the girls’ heated arguing, “I believe it is time for you to leave. I need to speak privately with Miss Bennet.”

    “Oh, but Mr. Darcy,” spoke Elizabeth, “it would not be at all a proper example to set for the girls.”

    “I don’t care.” Said he to an astonished room, “I will be obeyed. Now,” he fixed a determined gaze on Mr. Jones’ children. “Out.”

    While Rene rolled her eyes and took her younger brother’s hand, Elaina glared fiercely. A glare that, to be truthful, even took Mr. Darcy aback. When he was alone with his Elizabeth, he pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat down, stretching out and crossing his long, muscular, well-shaped legs.

    Elizabeth chided herself for noticing such things, but could not help but glance appreciatively anyway. Neither knew what to say, how to begin.

    “What are you doing here Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth peevishly.

    “Why… because I live here of course.”

    Silence once again descended upon the room until she chose to speak. “This must be a coincidence,” she said stubbornly and stupidly.

    Darcy laughed. “Yes, just as my kidnapping you was an accident! Your being here madam, is as calculated as was my kidnapping you.”

    “So… you just happened to have a friend here in need of a governess for his children? Or are they actors and peasants hired to play a part?” There was anger in her eyes.

    “No, no, they are real. I certainly could not dream up children such as those, or give them to a man such as their father! It really is unexplainable. I never even knew Roger had children until the other day! It was fate that I ran into him the night we arrived in Scotland. If we hadn’t I’d of had to do something illegal after you walked out on me yesterday. An action I feel compelled to tell you that you will explain to me before I leave this room!” There was a calm strength to Darcy’s words. He meant every one of them.

    Elizabeth was beginning to feel a bit confused. Perhaps she had acted hastily. She had heard him say he would never marry her, but he had gone to such lengths to bring her back to him. And just as she was about to attribute his desire for her to a purely lustful emotion, his intentions to her as unworthy and ignoble, her eyes met his. She would have to remember from now on that his eyes did strange things to her. She saw strange things in them. What she saw in them was… love. Pure, simple love. He would never sully her good name, her nobility by taking her as a mistress, by not honoring her with marriage.

    But she had heard him. Heard his words spoken so sternly and mockingly.

    But she also hated to give in. To lose. If she spoke to him now, he won. She had never felt so much confusion in her life.

    “Elizabeth, speak. Please.” She glared, until she heard the pleading note of his please. He was exasperated by her, and with her. He loved her, and she was pushing his love away. It irked him beyond belief!

    She sighed. “Is Mr. Jones the man you were talking to the night we arrived here? In that back room?”

    Now it was Darcy’s turn to be confused. “Yes, but how did you know I talked to him that night?”

    “I could not sleep. So I went to find you. I heard you talking to a man.”

    “Why did you not come in? I would have liked to introduce the woman I had thought was to be my wife.”

    Elizabeth was startled from the bed. She flew up and towered over the sitting Darcy.’ “That word! Wife! Wife implies marriage Mr. Darcy!”

    “Of course it does! What else would it mean Elizabeth?” His voice rose to join hers now, making them more easily heard for the three sets of ears we know must have been pasted to the door.

    “You are so indecisive sir! Is it your habit to flip flop on all issues?”

    “I do not understand dear lady.” Darcy’s tone was cold. “Please explain so I may defend myself.”

    “Gladly! When I approached the door that night, I heard Mr. Jones tell you that he had seen me in town, and of his guess that we were to be married. You, sir, denied ever thinking about the possibility of marrying me.” Elizabeth glared fiercely at him before turning her back to him to stare out the window.

    Silence once again descended. But only shortly, for quite quickly, Darcy’s jovial laughter tore through the air. He jumped from his chair and placed his arms around Elizabeth’s waist, pulling her back against his chest. She was so shocked by this that she did not, indeed could not, react as Darcy planted soft kisses atop her hair.

    Elizabeth began to feel that she had somehow made a mistake; that she had acted foolishly. Turning around in his arms, she placed her hands on his chest to push herself away from him. And though she achieved the desired effect of distance, she found that his hands still rested possessively and naturally on her hips. He smiled that devastating smile down at her.

    She frowned. She did not like being laughed at. “Mr. Darcy, I do not like being laughed at. Please, share with me the joke.”

    Darcy wished to kiss the frown from her face, but decided that kisses might be more readily appreciated if the way was cleared by words first.

    “Elizabeth, the lady in question, the one you overheard us speaking of was not you.”

    Confusion, she guessed, was from now on to be a constant companion in her thoughts.

    “Then who were you talking of?”

    “Miss Bingley,” he said with a laugh. And after a second Elizabeth laughed with him, placing her head on his chest. Darcy would not speak, afraid to dislodge her head from its natural place. But she lifted it herself after a while and sat, dejectedly, on the bed.

    “You love me,” she said with a frown, realization finally dawning on her.

    “Of course I do,” he said, sitting beside her.

    She looked at him, “But I’m such a fool. How could I have misinterpreted your words? I had so much evidence to the contrary. You are too good a man to love a fool.”

    Now it was Darcy’s turn to frown. “Love makes men and women fools. Elizabeth, I did not laugh earlier because I thought you foolish. My laugher was for joy. To me, the fact that you were so upset by what you thought you heard just proved to me that you cared.” He thought for a moment. “And besides… I am not a good man. I kidnapped you. I brought you here to my house with the plan of… well, never mind what my plan was. It wasn’t good. Well, for me it was, and I supposed for you too…”

    Elizabeth chuckled at this outward contemplation of his thoughts. The sound brought him out of his reverie with a blush.

    “But I am not a good man,” he added solemnly. “I am a pirate.”

    Elizabeth’s large warm smile moved him to pull her closer.

    “But you are. You did not kidnap me, you saved me.” And Darcy knew these words to be true. Truly! Mr. Collins as his Elizabeth’s husband! The idea was absurd and insupportable. “And you brought me here for an answer,” continued Elizabeth. “An answer as to why I ran away yesterday.”

    “Yes… Yes, that’s why I brought you here…” They both knew it wasn’t. They both smiled and Darcy drew her into a kiss.

    “Elizabeth, I am going to ask you a question. And if I don’t get the answer I want, well, I have a ship ready. I’m afraid I’ll have to roll you up in those blankets, toss you over my shoulder, and carry you to Egypt or America, or Antarctica. Just somewhere far away where seasickness and close daily proximity will make you fall in love with me. She laughed at his seriousness.

    With a twinkle in her eye she said, “Well, Dread Pirate Darcy, that is quite a threat. I guess it leaves me little options. What, sir, is your question?”

    “Marry me.” It was not a question.

    “So, marry you, or you kidnap me again. I should expect no softer alternatives from a pirate.”

    Her tone was playful, her face glowing. Darcy was quite pleased with the prospect of her answer.

    “Your answer Madame,” he said playfully strict.

    “Yes. Since I do hate traveling by_” but she could not finish for her pirate fiancé’s lips covered hers, preventing speech.

    After a very pleasant interlude, Elizabeth looked up into Darcy’s eyes, smiling. She left his arms and walked to the closed door.

    “And just where do you think you’re going?” asked a very happy Darcy who was not quite willing to let his Elizabeth out to see the rest of the world.

    “I’m going to be a governess.” She left the room with an impish grin.

    Chapter 7

    Posted on Tuesday, 7 December 2004

    Four sets of curious ears stumbled clumsily backwards as the bedroom door swung open. Elizabeth had anticipated three of these sets of ears, and the addition of a fourth eavesdropper made her blush. Fortunately, Mr. Jones’ reddened cheeks spoke of embarrassment also. He fumbled with his words, “Ah… Miss Bennet. I was… uh… I was just… Miss Bennet,” He finished decisively, “Are you recovered?” Elizabeth might have laughed had a loud bellows not emanated from the room she had just exited.

    “What do you mean you’re going to be a governess?” When the owner of the voice did not follow his words into the hall, Elizabeth, and the four eavesdroppers entered the room themselves. Darcy stood rooted to one spot. Meeting his gaze, Elizabeth began to wonder if her words had been such a good idea after all.

    “Sir, I was hired to be a companion to these two young women, and a governess for this child. I do not, indeed feel that I cannot, withdraw my services,” answered Elizabeth calmly.

    “Oh yes you can! You just agreed to marry me! That agreement makes all previous arrangement null and void.”

    Elizabeth could not counter these words, for a cacophony of sounds: gasps, giggles, groans and sighs arose from behind her.

    “They’re getting married!” came the excited pronouncement from Elaina.

    “I told you so,” said her sister.

    Their father smiled widely and strode across the room to Darcy, grasping and shaking his hand. “Congratulations my boy! After meeting your Miss Bennet this morning I just knew it was meant to be!”

    The little boy stood by his sisters, wide-eyed and curious as to what a wedding meant.

    And Mr. Darcy suddenly realized that Elizabeth was not the only one in the room. After a single bewildered instant, he returned the handshake and spoke. “Roger, tell Elizabeth that she was not truly needed here as a governess in the first place.”

    Mr. Jones looked dubious. “Actually Darcy, It would be nice to have her help. But just until Rachel arrives,” he added last minute.

    “Rachel? Who’s Rachel?” asked Elizabeth.

    “She’s my wife,” answered Mr. Jones. “Hinton’s mother. The girls’ stepmother.”

    This must be the scandal he had written of in his letter, thought Elizabeth. Divorce! She had never actually known a divorced person before, and her heart and ever-curious mind reached out to the girls who stood before her now. Turning to her fiancée she said, “Mr. Darcy, I will marry you. But only after Mrs. Jones arrives. Until then, I believe my services are needed elsewhere.”

    Darcy thought about fighting her, this decision. But even the pirate in him cowered at the thought of an enraged Elizabeth. If he stole her away while angry and married her, then he would have an enraged and uncomplying wife. Which could not be a good thing, thought he. But he was used to getting his way.

    “Roger, when is your wife due to arrive?”

    “Three weeks from now,” was the answer.

    “Three weeks…” mulled Darcy. “Three weeks… Fitzgerald!” screamed the man.

    A short pudgy man with vibrant orange hair, a down turned mouth, and narrowed squinting eyes almost immediately entered the room. It seemed as if other on pretend errands that brought them, conveniently, to the hallway in front of the door, had taken the Jones’ lead, and taken up eavesdropping.

    “Yes sir?” asked the man who was presumably Fitzgerald.

    “Yes. Send word to that ship I hired to… Roger, where is your wife at the moment?”

    “In Bath, visiting her parents,” replied a confused Mr. Jones. “She’ll leave there in a little over two weeks.”

    “Send the ship to Bath,” said Darcy, turning back to Fitzgerald. “And tell them that the quicker they return, the larger their pay. Roger, write her a note and give it to Fitzgerald, along with the address of her parent’s dwelling. Fitzgerald, give these items to the captain.” Finally, he turned to Elizabeth, smiling. “I see you are determined. But you must understand my lady, so am I.”

    Continued In Next Section

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