Beginning , Section II, Section III, Next Section

Chapter 14

Posted on Thursday, 20 January 2005

Caroline did not like being escorted through a small seaside town on the arm of a mere sea captain. It was disgraceful! It was beneath her! And here she was, dazedly hooked onto the arm of said lowly sea captain, leaning heavily on him actually. It seemed that her legs were not working properly, and she did not know how she moved one in front of the other.

Despite the fact that her legs would not quite obey her commands, the haughty grimace on her face was in full swing. By the time they reached the quaint little inn in the middle of the small fishing village, Caroline was more angry than she could ever remember being. To be treated so by Mr. Darcy was unbearable.

She could not yet bring herself to believe that it had really been her Mr. Darcy who had swept Elizabeth away from Mr. Collins that fateful day. As far as Caroline was concerned, Elizabeth was perfectly suited for the odious clergyman.

The grimace on Caroline’s face deepened as she stepped over the threshold to the inn and looked into the bustling morning atmosphere of the inn. She surveyed the room with a cold eye, noticing every knick and scrape on the tops of the tables that scattered the first floor of the inn that served as a type of tavern. She eyed suspiciously every occupant quaintly nibbling on bacon or gulping a mug of fresh cocoa. Caroline was amazed to see that this little establishment boasted not only male occupant, but female as well. Well, thought Caroline, at least not any reputable female.

She eyed the table of women warily. There were two men and a small boy with the three women who sitting at a rather large table in the back of the room. The boy was busy shoving forkfuls of something or other that made Caroline cringe into his mouth, and two dark eyed girls, obviously sisters, talked animatedly with the younger man sitting across from them. Caroline realized that one of the women, the one staring lovingly up at the older man, was the same annoyingly fiery blonde woman who had shared Darcy’s ship with her and Mr. Bennet. The one that had not been locked into a room below deck.

Caroline’s gaze was diverted from the female filled table as she realized that the captain was steering her towards a table and pulling a chair out for her to sit in. She sat down stiffly and gently as if the chair might break under her insubstantial weight. She sniffed disgustedly when the captain asked if she would like something to eat or drink, and resumed her perusal of her former shipmate and her companions.

A woman can never fight the temptation to weigh and judge other women, figuring out who is the better woman in everything from the shape of noses and the turn of a countenance to fashion sense and the musical quality of her giggle.

Caroline scanned the table thusly, measuring each woman in turn and, either finding faults or pulling them from her own imagination, immediately determined not to like them. Indeed, her judgment had been decided before she’d even set foot in the inn.

A pair of fine and familiar eyes flickered into Caroline’s view. There were four women at the table. Why Caroline had not noticed the one at the end was a mystery to her, but one she quickly forgot with the dawning of the fact that it was Miss. Eliza Bennet who sat there with fine sparkling eyes and a waiting laugh. The waiting laugh erupted and Caroline was perturbed to find it musical indeed.

Quickly, she stood up from the table and made her way to the back of the room. “Miss. Jones,” she said, fake syrupy adulation over every intonation. “This must be your husband, Mr. Darcy’s dear friend.” She turned to Mr. Jones. “I’ve heard so much about you sir. Mr. Darcy has always regarded your friendship highly.”

“Oh,” replied Mr. Jones, “You are Miss. Bingley right? I believe I saw you once or twice while in London a while back.”

“Yes, yes. I was delighted when I learned that this charming little angel was your wife. She really is a dear. You must take care of her though, she was severely sick most of the time on the ship. But I’m sure you’re aware of her weak constitution.” Miss. Bingley smiled while Mr. Jones looked confusedly from her to his wife. His wife who had never been sick a day in her life and whose father owned a ship himself. She’d practically grown up on the sea. Mr. Jones was more likely to get seasick. Oftentimes his wife stayed above board, relishing in the salty spray of the sea, while he moaned and groaned below deck.

Caroline changed her line of interest to her real target. “Ah! I see we have a similar acquaintance Mrs. Jones.” Her eyes now regarded Elizabeth coolly, extending a silent challenge of sorts. “I hope you have not missed your fiancée Miss. Bennet. He is quite worried for you you know.”

“No, Miss. Bingley, I’ve not missed my fiancée.” Elizabeth spoke with unwavering truth and conviction. “May I enquire your reason for visiting an out of the way little hamlet such as this? I thought that surely a woman of your demeanor and station would not take pleasure in any sort of rustic country landscape.” Elizabeth’s eyebrow arched upward as she spoke, a strange glint in her eye.

“It is no secret why I’ve come here Miss. Bennet.” The two stared each other down now. Their gazes locked in a duel to the death. “I’ve come to save Mr. Darcy.”

Save Mr. Darcy? Save Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth, I am not the one who kidnapped him! She said as much to her adversary, her eyes widening as she pressed the palms of her hands against the table and pushed to a standing position.

“The man was obviously sick when he… when he…” stammered Caroline, unable to put a name to Darcy’s daring act of rescuing Elizabeth from a Mr. Collins infested alter. “He was out of his mind! He did not know what he was doing.” Caroline was adamant in this particular idea. It was either that, or the silly little country girl before her had tricked him in some way. But Darcy was the master of Pemberley, and of 10,000 pounds a year, and could thus be forgiven for anything.

Elizabeth laughed out loud, a harsher laugh than before. “Mr. Darcy is certainly not sick! Enthusiastic and impulsive, yes, but sick, no.”

“Enthusiastic? Impulsive? You most obviously do not know Mr. Darcy,” stated Caroline.

“Actually, Miss. Bingley, I believe I might be one of the few people who have ever been privileged enough to see the true Darcy. I assure you, you would have no taste for him.” Elizabeth was almost amazed by her own audacity. Somehow, the knowledge that Darcy loved her and was marrying her this very day, and the challenge of so silly a woman as Caroline Bingley, emboldened her. A wicked thought entered her mind, tempted the back of her throat, and rolled sweetly over her tongue and through her parted lips. “Miss. Bingley, if you are not occupied this afternoon, perhaps you would consider attending my wedding.” Elizabeth could not believe the words she had just uttered.

Neither could Caroline. Her jaw hung slack in a most undignified manner and her milky white complexion turned red as the soldiers’ coats. Quickly clanking her jaw shut and narrowing her widened eyes, Caroline thrust her fists to her sides, turned sharply, and left the table without comment.

Elizabeth sat, blushing. “I should not have said that… I fear,” spoke she into the muted silence that had fallen over the breakfast table’s occupants.

“I thought it was brilliant!” exclaimed Rene, her eyes glowing with excitement. Elizabeth looked at the young girl, then at her older sister, whose eyes shone heavy with amusement and admiration. She could almost she the cogs in the girl’s head fitting her words into a story of some sort. Young Mr. Richards’ eyes held the same expression, though more prevalent was the look of astonishment, bewilderment. Mr. Jones and his wife mirrored these sentiments and Elizabeth began to feel quite ashamed of herself. After all, in the end, who would end up with the prize? Who was the one that her Mr. Darcy really loved? The answer was simple, and gave Elizabeth reason to regret her harsh treatment of Miss. Bingley, who would not come out of the whole ordeal as happily as Elizabeth surely would.

“I… I must go apologize to her.” She stood up and turned around only to bump into a very flustered and serious looking Darcy.

“Apologize for what?” he asked, his keen eyes searching hers.

“Mr. Darcy,” spoke Elizabeth, startled. “Did you happen to see which way Miss. Bingley went?”

“Why?”

“I need to have a word with her, alone,” she added for good measure.

“I caught her fighting Captain Halloway to leave the inn. I assured her that she would have a ready room here, then instructed a maid to take her to the quarters I arranged for her.”

Elizabeth frowned and pulled away. “You arranged for her to have a room here?” she asked.

“Yes, what else could I do? Elizabeth, forget Miss. Bingley for the moment. The preacher has been sent for and you and I are to wed within two hours time, and there is something I must talk with you about.” His words as well as his look was serious, and though Elizabeth did not feel that he had answered her questions at all, she had learned not to jump to conclusions where Darcy was concerned. The infuriating man could be incredibly vague at times.

“Yes, we must talk. But then I really must have a word with Miss. Bingley afterwards.”

“Yes Elizabeth, you shall have anything you like… but first,” and taking her hand through the crook of his arm, he led her into the same back room where Elizabeth had first misheard his conversation with Mr. Jones. He sat her in a comfortable armchair and commenced pacing. Her eyes followed him patiently until he stopped directly in front of her. “You are marrying me today,” he asserted fiercely.

“Yes, of course I am.” She might have laughed had her intended not looked as disturbed as he did now. “William… what is the matter?”

There was only one way to tell her. “Your father is here.”

“My father! But how? Have you seen him?” A part of Elizabeth felt elated that her father would be at her wedding. But reality soon came crashing in as she realized that her father’s presence here was most likely not a propitious occurrence. He was sure to oppose her marriage to the man who kidnapped her from her first wedding.

“Yes. I’ve spoken to him. He came here with Miss. Bingley on the boat I sent for Mrs. Jones. Needless to say, he’s very upset. He does not wish us to marry.” Darcy was silent for a moment, deep in reflection. Elizabeth was lost in thought also, afraid to voice her fears.

“I was wrong,” spoke Darcy, breaking the silence, “to have done what I did. I’ve been selfish, and Elizabeth, I haven’t let myself think about what I’ve done to you because I thought that whatever we’ve formed between us made up for all my discretions. I’ve denied you a wedding surrounded by your family and friends, forced you into a hurried, tradition less ceremony just because I am impatient to have you for my own. And my very actions have put built up a wall against any friendly relationship I might have with those that you love. I’ve sacrificed my nobility, which was mine to freely give, and I do not regret giving it for you; but I’ve also sacrificed your nobility, and that was not mine to take. I’ve done an unforgivable thing that will surely mar and strain our union.

“Your father has every right in the world to be angry with me, to hate me. If I were in his place, and a man had absconded with Georgiana, I’d be just as angry.

“I am truly sorry Elizabeth,” ended Darcy. He stood with feet slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and his hidden gaze devouring the flames that roared in the fireplace. Elizabeth sat still in her chair, gazing as intently at his back as he was at the fire.

“I… I believe I am confused,” she stuttered simply. Darcy did not turn around, so she continued. “You assure me that we are to be married today in one breath, and then in the next, you more or less confess to me that you regret saving me from that horrid wedding. Which is it sir, so that I may know what my afternoon plans include?”

“Do you not see Miss. Bennet? I finally understand that I did you no favors in taking you that day. My intentions were purely selfish; I did not think of your reputation, only of my own happiness.”

Elizabeth frowned when he would not look at her. She scowled when she realized that it had been a Miss. Bennet that had stiffly passed between his teeth and not the sweet rolling tones of the way he said Elizabeth. She stood up from the chair and stood to side of him, studying him profile. Shadows and light played across the planes of his face, his dark curls were tousled, windblown, his clothes were in slight disarray, and a cold glint narrowed his dark brooding eyes. He had never looked more the pirate to her than he did now.

Still he would not look at her. If he looked her way, he knew he would not be able to back down; he would not be able to give her up so freely. He felt the heat of her gaze burn hotter on his skin than the heat of the flames that scorched through his clothing. He was glad when she walked silently away. He tried to ignore the fact that she took his heart with her out the door.

Elizabeth was not quite as angry as we might all believe. She had jumped to conclusions before concerning Darcy, and she would not do it now. She knew he still loved her; he was just having an attack of guilty conscience, brought on by the unexpected arrival of her father.

He wouldn’t listen to her, whatever she said, Elizabeth was sure of that. Her father would not listen to her either. She was as certain of this as she was of the other. Her father would pack her up and ship her back to Mr. Collins. The thought sent horrible shivers up and down her spine. “No, no, no,” she repeated devoutly under her breath. Was she to be denied the happiness that Darcy had admitted to so selfishly taking? What was a girl to do when the men in her life kept so suddenly changing on her? Her father, who had always doted upon his favorite daughter, and whom she thought would never suffer to see her married to a man so clearly not her equal, had decided to chain her kicking and screaming to an odious parson who adored and odious old woman. And now the confidant, take charge Darcy she had come to know and love had reverted back to the shy, appearance worshiping man that had so irked her when she had first met him. Where was the doting father?! Where was the Dread Pirate?!

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. But as an answer developed in her clear mind, she realized that keeping her mind free from anger had been an invaluable strategy. Hastening up her steps, she peered into the public dinning area to find that the Joneses and Mr. Richards still sat at the back table. Caroline Bingley would have to wait for the moment, thought Elizabeth, failing to find the tall silk bedecked woman anywhere in sight. The guilt from their earlier encounter was lessening, and Elizabeth was once again beginning to believe that her small attacks had not been so very harsh after all. But perhaps this was because her future with Mr. Darcy was not now sealed. There was still a slight chance that Caroline could win, and this solidified her as the enemy in Elizabeth’s mind, leaving no room for sympathy.

“Miss. Jones, Elaina, Rene?” All three women looked up at Elizabeth, the men studied her curiously. “May I have a word with you?” She opened her gaze to now include Mr. Richards and the sisters’ father. “And, I believe I could use your help as well,” she added calmly.

“What is this about Miss. Bennet?” inquired Mr. Jones. He pulled a chair out from under the table and bid Elizabeth sit.

Taking the offered seat, Elizabeth spoke candidly. “I have just finished speaking with Mr. Darcy about the wedding. Complications have arisen that he believes will keep us from marrying today. Indeed, he says we may not ever wed. My father has come. He intends to take me back to the man I was to wed before Darcy… I mean… that is, before I met Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh but Elizabeth! You can’t marry that other man!” Rene seemed almost livid. “Surely Mr. Darcy will not let you!”

“Rene,” spoke her father, “I’m sure Mr. Darcy has his reason.” The older man stared thoughtfully into space for no more than a moment before turning to Mr. Richards. “Mr. Richards, I believe we should go talk with Mr. Darcy.” The young secretary nodded his head in agreement, having formed a great respect for Darcy since the advice of the night before, and with Mr. Jones, rose from the table and bowing to the ladies, exited the room.

Elizabeth remained silent, but Mrs. Jones filled the void. “I believe we should retire to the girls’ room. We can talk in private there.” The small blonde woman led the way as the three taller, dark haired girls followed in her energetic wake, little Hinton clinging to his mommy’s hand. Mrs. Jones signaled for a maid to stoke the fire and then shooed her from the room as they all took seats in various chairs or on the large bed that sat in the center of the room.

“You have every intention of marrying Mr. Darcy today don’t you?” spoke Mrs. Jones, her words more statement than question.

A small smile slipped onto Elizabeth’s lips. “How did you know Mrs. Jones?”

“Please, you must call me Rachel. It was easy to see your determination. I was there once also you see.” The sisters giggled and smiled, remembering the way their stepmother had had to fight to convince their father that it was all right to marry. “What do you plan on doing about all this Elizabeth? You don’t mind if I call you Elizabeth do you? I’ve never been much for formality.”

“Yes, of course you may call me Elizabeth. And… I have a small plan worked out. But… it will depend on the amount of help I can scrape together.” At this, she glanced hopefully from one woman to another. Each smiled mischievously, and Elizabeth’s hopes rose considerably.

“What is this small plan?” asked Elaina, a curious light entering her eyes as she leaned closer to the fire, her voice low.

“Why,” spoke Elizabeth, sitting straight up in her chair, chin held high, “to become a pirate.”

Chapter 15

Posted on Wednesday, 26 January 2005

Elizabeth scurried toward the port with Rene trailing behind her.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth, wait up. You’re moving much too fast! The ship isn’t going to set sail unless Mr. Darcy orders it so. You’ve nothing to rush for!” The young girl was breathless with trying to keep up. Elizabeth heard it in Rene’s voice and slowed her steps, stopping for a minute to wait for her companion, her partner in piracy. After Elizabeth had taken over the title of pirate, so had all the other women in the room, Rachel Jones pronouncing quite heartily that “sometimes a spot of piracy is the only way to ever get anything done.”

They matched their steps easily to each other and began a companionable stroll towards the docks.

“Elizabeth,” asked Rene, “May I speak with you about something?”

“Yes, of course. You may speak with me about anything,” answered Elizabeth.

“Elaina loves Mr. Richards. I know she does so do not play dumb with me. It is one of the reasons I’ve flirted so atrociously with him. I wanted to aggravate her into showing her affection for him, into fighting for him. I suspect that she’s been in love with him since we lived in America. All her stories seem to have some far off dark haired romantic figure in them, some unattainable and perfect man who will never give the flawed and tragic heroin a second glance.” Rene laughed. “It is all rather funny isn’t it! Mr. Richards let me read one of his stories the other day Elizabeth, and I couldn’t believe it! Do you know what it was about?” Her voice was shaking with barely controlled mirth. “A brooding and handsome young man falls in love with the smart and beautiful and eccentric young woman who thinks of him as nothing but a friend! And of course, the smart, beautiful, eccentric young woman sounds much like Elaina.”

“So you mean to tell me that this whole time you’ve been harassing your sister about Mr. Richards… it has been to goad her into showing him how she feels?” Elizabeth was stunned. She had certainly not seen this coming.

“Yes, or to goad Mr. Richards into declaring to me, or her, his true feelings towards my sister. They are the two most obtuse, stubborn, and blind people I know. And they’re supposed to be intelligent!” Rene loosed a small “hmph” and focused on a ship that was growing on the horizon. “But what do we do now? There’s smiling and furtive hidden glances aplenty, but nothing solid. We must convince Mr. Richards to confess Elizabeth! We just have to! I am absolutely determined to have him as a brother in law!”

“Maybe they will come together on their own Rene. It just takes some people more time to feel comfortable showing their affections than others,” spoke Elizabeth, thinking of Jane, and how Charlotte had warned her of hiding so completely such emotions.

The girls lapsed into silence as the ships in the port loomed closer, the bustle of the seaside quickened, and the smell of fish in the air became stronger. Elizabeth easily spied Darcy’s ship, The Anne, and walked purposefully toward it, quickening her steps, Rene following in her wake.

When they reached the gangplank to the Anne, Rene turned to Elizabeth once more. “That is what you told Elaina to do isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to come with you, told Rachel to go to Mr. Darcy, and then you spoke privately with Elaina, and never told us her part in your little plan. And since you were so secretive, ou had to be discussing a sensitive subject.” Her words tumbled faster as she spoke, building up momentum for the final revelation. “And what could be more sensitive a topic to her than Jonathan Richards?”

Elizabeth smiled proudly at the younger girl. “I knew you were brilliant Rene.”

“But how? What is Elaina going to be able to do that will help you marry Mr. Darcy today? And that includes Mr. Richards at that! This is an impossible scheme Elizabeth! I don’t see what you’re getting at in the least. Why won’t you tell us your whole plan?” Rene pouted, jutting her lip out as far as it would go and narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t we just hire thieves to kidnap Mr. Darcy for you?”

“Because my father or Miss. Bingley for that matter, would hire thieves to kidnap me! No, it must be done this way.” They resumed their journey up the gang plank and boarded the ship. Captain Halloway, having just reached the boat himself, greeted the women suspiciously.

“I’m afraid you two young ladies are gowin ta haf ta leave. You have no business here,” spoke the good captain.

“I’m sure we do,” answered Elizabeth. “A man took passage on this ship with a younger woman. He is my father and I wish to know in which direction he went in when he left the ship.”

“Your father Miss.? Well then, he hasn’t gone in any direction. He has yet to leave the boat.”

“Then might I speak with him? Will you show me to him?”

“I do not think tha tit could hurt ma’am. Follow me.”

Elizabeth followed closely, her young companion as close on her heels as she was on the captains.

“I do not know why he has stayed on the boat ma’am. Perhaps he was just waitin for you though,” spoke the captain abruptly, stopping mid sentence to look back at her. She collided into him, and Rene into her, just as Captain Halloway picked up his steps once more, leading them below deck. He stopped just short of a door in a small hallway.

“He’s in there ma’am. I assume you wish to speak w’ im privately.”

“Yes thank you,” she replied, opening the door and motioning Rene to follow her through into the room.

Her father stood looking out the porthole, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Father.”

With one word, whispered in rather worried tones, the man tuned around to find the unsure gaze of his missing daughter centered squarely on him. She saw relief flood his eyes as he closed the space between them and took her into his arms.

“Oh Lizzy, You are alright I see,” he finally said, holding her at arms length to inspect her for any damage.

“Yes father, I am very much alright.” Elizabeth thought that there might be tears pulling at the corner of her eyes, and she pulled her determination tight around her. “And, besides not being with you and Jane, I am very happy as well.”

Mr. Bennet’s face hardened. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and once more clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve come to take you back Lizzy. Back home. To your mother, and to Jane, and to Mr. Collins.” There was no give in his words, but Elizabeth would not give either.

“I would gladly come back home to you, or Jane, or Mother, Father, but not to Mr. Collins. I do not love him, and refuse to marry him, as I always have. You knew when you approved the engagement that I was miserable over it. I told you then that I would not marry that odious man, and you did not listen. And if it had not been for Mr. Darcy, I very well might have been forced to do your bidding! I might very well be shackled to a toad for the rest of my life!

“But as it is, Father, Mr. Darcy did rescue me. And I put special emphasis on the word rescue. For even traveling with a man I thought to be ignoble and prideful was more tempting than marrying that… that man. And I now know that Mr. Darcy is the best of men, and the only man I could ever respect as a husband… the only man that I could ever love.”

“Elizabeth—“ interrupted Mr. Bennet heatedly.

“No! Do not interrupt. I came to see if I could garner your approval of my marriage. Have I? Do you bless the union I will enter into with Mr. Darcy this day?”

“Never,” came her father’s cold negative. “You will do as I say Elizabeth, and you will marry Mr. Collins.”

“No, no I will not. If you change your mind father, and wish to walk me down the isle, we will be at the local church at noon. I would like to have your blessing father.”

He just glared at her.

She sighed in reply to her glare then turned her back on him and faced Rene who stood patiently in the doorway. “Come Rene, there is much to be done.”

Mr. Bennet was furious. His favorite daughter, the one who was a paragon of sense and reliability had turned as silly, no, sillier, far sillier than her sisters. He stormed around the room for a bit before pulling up the chain of his weathered pocket watch. Eleven o’clock. One hour. He had one hour before the accursed union was solidified. And he was quite sure that he had a better chance of stopping the wedding than he did of convincing Elizabeth to get a divorce. Why had he done it all, he thought warily. Why had he forced her to marry Mr. Collins? Why had he chased her all the way here, insisting that she leave the man she did love and marry a man she didn’t, even after the kidnapping had caused such a scandal as to make it almost imperative that Elizabeth did marry Darcy.

He knew why. She was his daughter. And as her father, he was her rock. And especially with their particular family, they were each others’ sensible companions in a house full of ridiculousness. Mr. Collins was also ridiculous, and totally unworthy of his favorite daughter. But, as long as she was married to Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet remained his daughter’s sensible rock in a life full of… well… silliness. But, if Elizabeth married, dependable, noble, intelligent Mr. Darcy, then where did that leave him? Who was he to his daughter once she had found someone to replace him?

No, he’d effectively lose his favorite if she married Mr. Darcy. He could not let this happen.

It never occurred to him that this was a tad selfish, and that if he loved his “favorite” so much, he would want what made her happiest, and that at the moment was Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Bennet stopped and stared out the porthole for a second more before striding purposefully toward the door and throwing it open. He left the boat then, never noticing the two pairs of dark feminine eyes watching him from its railing.

Elaina knocked carefully on the thick wooden door before her. She could hear voices on the other side: the light almost joking voice of her father, Darcy’s deep timbre, and Mr. Richardson’s lyric tones that would hold a hint of a laugh if he were smiling. She was bid enter, and before she turned the door’s handle, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Elaina,” said her father, “do you need something child?”

“No, yes. Yes, father. I was wishing to talk to Mr. Richards actually. It is a matter of great importance, that only another writer could understand.” She really wasn’t lying to her father. It was a matter of great importance, and most likely, Mr. Richards would only understand because he had the same hopelessly romantic notions that she had. It came with the writing territory really.

Richards looked inquisitively at Elaina. “A passage?” He asked.

“Yes, a passage. I’m having a bit of a hard time making sense of this poem. Shakespeare. His meaning is simply alluding me I’m afraid.” Elaina knew he could not pass up a chance to read Shakespeare, or to assert his literary superiority. It was a never-ending mock battle between them. One they both had always delighted in. “Would you care to have a look at it Mr. Richards?” She held his eyes for as long as she could, hoping to grab his attention. And she did, for a while, until he tore his eyes from hers and looked to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy nodded his head in approval, and Elaina realized that the man looked more somber and forbidding than she had ever seen him. He actually looked morose… unapproachable… cold. If this was what he was like without Elizabeth, then her little lies and trickeries today certainly were for a good cause. She was sure he would frighten many small children if he walked around continually looking like that.

Mr. Richards turned his gaze once more to his friend and nodded his assent, following her from the room. She led him up the stairs and into the small parlor that had been paid for for the ladies use. Yet when she closed the door behind Mr. Richards, she did not hurry to find the troublesome Shakespearean poem. She simply leaned against the door and looked strangely at Mr. Richards.

Mr. Richards, was growing uncomfortable under her odd gaze. “The Shakespeare? Elaine?” He added when she did not answer his first question. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before stepping away from the door, her eyes still holding his.

“Jon… I lied,” she stated bluntly, worry escaping into her voice.

“You have? Well, what is the truth?”

She stepped closer to him. “I need your help Jon. Very badly. If you refuse to help me, I… I don’t know what I’ll do!” There was an edge to her voice that alarmed him.

“Elaina, what is it? You can tell me. I’ll help you with whatever it is. You should know that.” He had steered her to an arm chair during this speech and now knelt before her, looking up into her eyes.

“You promise you’ll help?”

“Yes, of course. With anything.”

Only now did she allow herself a tiny smile. She had him. He could not back out of a promise. Though she thoroughly hoped he didn’t despise her for manipulating him so after this was all done. But surely he would not fault her scheme. Surely he would see the romantic conclusion it would help to bring about. With a heavy intake of breath, she began. “As you know, Mr. Darcy is refusing to marry Elizabeth now.”

Mr. Richards was momentarily caught off guard. Why was she talking about Miss. Bennet and Mr. Darcy? “Yes, he told us the wedding was called off. He did not however, say why. Do you perhaps know this little detail?”

She smiled again, and told him of Miss. Bennet’s father’s untimely arrival. She could see by the confusion on his face that he did not know the whole Elizabeth, Darcy, bridenapping story, and she did not think it imperative to tell him at the moment. Besides, he might steal the story for his own. And she fully intended to use it herself. But creative writing aside, it had come time for her to take him up on his promise.

“That is why I need your help,” she ended.

Mr. Richards looked almost disappointed. Scenes of heroes and knights rescuing distressed damsels had ridden through his head ever since she had first asked for his help. And now it appeared that she wasn’t even the one in distress! “How can I help, Elaina?”

“Now Jon, remember that you promised.” She once again pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. His silence beckoned her to continue. “We must get married,” she exclaimed before she could even form the right words in her mind. And oh! How wrong it had all come out! She clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. She closed her eyes abruptly, not wanting to see his reaction to her words.

Silence. She did not open her eyes. “That came out wrong. Oh I’m so sorry.” She tried to chuckle her eyes closed, but it came out rather despairingly. “What I meant to say was that-“ and she was cut off by the feeling of hands wrapping around her arms. She risked opening her eyes when the hands, presumably Mr. Richards, had pulled her to a standing position, oh so close to him. He was not much taller than she, and she looked him straight in the eye. What was in them stopped her heart, sent shivers up her spin and made her breath catch in her throat. The kind of reactions she wrote about before the heroine tragically dies (or her lover does), and loneliness once again descends on the world.

But this was real, not fiction, and Elizabeth and Darcy and the wedding that was not to be had been swept completely from her mind. For one split second, Elaina thought that Jon was going to lean in and kiss her. And he did. And all thought was also swept from her mind.

When he raised his lips from hers, he found her eyes closed, and nudged her chin up a bit with his thumb to coerce her into opening them. He was glad, relieved, when she did. For along with confusion and shock, he found excitement and longing in them as well. “Yes, we must.”

“Excuse me?” said Elaine. She wasn’t sure she could form or understand a coherent sentence at this point.

“I was just agreeing with you. Though I never hoped to ask you, to receive your approval, I never once thought that you might ask me! It is all very improper you know, but we are both forward thinkers are we not?” He looked down at her jubilantly. She was rather jubilant herself, hearing his words, knowing for sure, for the first time, that he might love her as she had him all these years. But of course, she had not meant to ask him to marry her. And if she did not tell him this, then Elizabeth’s plan would not work. And even if she did wish to stay like this forever, she was on something of a short schedule.

“We must be at the church by noon!” she exclaimed, realizing once more that she had not said exactly what she should have said. She rushed on, not giving him the time to do anything. “No, no, that came out all wrong as well,” she said, pulling herself from his arms and walking to a safe distance across the room. “Let me explain. First I will say that I most definitely would like to explore… that,” she faltered, not being able to come up with a sufficient word for their kiss. “But not just yet. We must get to the church soon. Elizabeth is determined to marry Darcy and he will not because of, oh I don’t know why! But she will have her way with this Jon, and I mean to help her. And you promised me anything! And so you have to help me!”

Richards’ eyes, which had previously held uncontained joy, switched coldly to confusion and then restrained anger as her words tumbled forth. At least she had said that she would be open to exploring the kiss. And he knew she would, he had seen it in her eyes. So putting that all behind him, for now, he tried to make sense of her declaration. “And why must we go to the church?” he asked calmly.

“Why, to get the preacher of course.”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “It is ten past eleven. We have plenty of time till twelve. Why not explain this plan to me more thoroughly?”

She leapt across the room and yanked at his arm, pulling him towards the door. I’ll explain on the way over there. We don’t have nearly as much time as you think!” Perplexed, he followed her out of the door, hoping that she would prove good on her vow to explain to him on the way to the church. When they stepped out onto the street, he took her hand through the crook of his arm, pulling her just a little bit closer than he might have dared to before. She looked up at him, noticing the slight change, and smiled brilliantly.

Chapter 16

Posted on Friday, 28 January 2005

For the second time in an hour, there came a knocking on the study door Darcy was sulking behind.

“Good God, I just wish to be left alone,” he agonized to his companion in misery, Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones did not answer him, simply bid the new intruder enter.

“My dear,” said Mrs. Jones to her husband upon entering the room, “Mr. Darcy,” she said, ultimately locking eyes with the younger man. “Sir, you must come with me now. I’m afraid something terrible has happened. Elizabeth-“

But she was cut off. “Elizabeth! Is she alright? Where is she? Tell me woman!” he roared at last, losing quickly whatever patience he might have started out with.

Rachel Jones succeeded in schooling her smile. It would not do at the moment. For though Mr. Darcy might not notice her amusement in all his fury and agitation, her husband surely would, and then his sharp mind might put two and two together. But would he disapprove? Or did he wish as she did that Darcy would not be so self sacrificing. It was not a romantic thing to do at all! But Darcy’s right eye was now twitching and she was afraid he might grab her and shake her at any moment.

“She went to The Anne. She meant to go speak with her father, to make him see her side of things, to show him that she truly loved you and was happy with you. But… her father…” Mrs. Jones’ words trailed off, leaving the rest to Mr. Darcy’s currently very active imagination. His eyes widened. She took up where she left off. “He will not let her leave the boat. He has paid your ship’s crew off handsomely to keep her there as prisoner. Your captain however refused to follow any orders but your own sir. Rene went with her, and escaped the boat before Elizabeth could, bringing word to me of all that had transpired.”

Darcy darted from the room, no word or thought foremost in his mind but an achingly sweet image of his Elizabeth branded there. He had given up pirating only to find that he might have to actually put the self declared title to purpose. For surely he would have to use all his pirate trickery to board a boat of hired thugs and recapture what he had rightfully stolen in the first place.

It is a testimony to Darcy’s somewhat harried state of mind that he did not merely think of offering an even larger sum of money to the ships’ crew and skewering them with one of him infamous Darcy Glances. Fear for one much beloved can do strange things to man and woman.

It did not take long to reach the village’s small port. And when he did, looking striking and windblown atop his black horse, he was rather confused. The Anne did not look like a well-guarded prison. He wondered if he walked up on deck if he would be stopped or not. Was not the easiest way most likely the best? And didn’t his swaggering pirate arrogance demand he make fools of them all by simply sweeping aboard in broad daylight? Yes!

A faint chime of church bells struck the hour: noon. An appropriate time for a dramatic confrontation. And so Darcy dismounted and mounted a look of cold fury and imposing confidence upon his face. He did indeed sweep aboard the ship, daring all nonexistent threats to step his way. But once on the ship’s neat deck he was all alone.

Except for Elizabeth. She stood, a mischievous spark at the corners of her smile, at the curve of the front of the boat. It didn’t take long for Darcy to reach her side and take her possessively into his arms, his gaze still sweeping warily and guardedly two and fro.

“Elizabeth, my lovely Elizabeth, you have not been hurt. Are you ready to escape?” he asked her, finally coming to look into her eyes. Strangely, he noticed a spark of mischief there as well.

No, Mr. Darcy, I do not need to escape.”

He frowned down at her, and she tamed her hint of a smile into a look that was quite serious. She stepped from his arms, placed her fists on her hips and looked up his imposing height with defiance in her eyes.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, I, Elizabeth the Conqueror, bold pirate Queen of the seven seas, have commandeered your vessel, have coerced your men to my side, and have kidnapped a most famous pirate.”

He stared, baffled by her words and the laughing delight that shined from her fine eyes.

“A pirate queen must, logically, have a pirate for her king! You, Dread Pirate Darcy,” she said with a sneer and a smirk, “have refused to marry me, leaving me to take drastic measures. I must tell you sir, that in this matter, I will have my way.” She thought for a second. A sparkling, tense silence filled the air between and around them. “Consider yourself kidnapped sir!”

Oh how he wanted to laugh at her. Oh how he wanted to take her in his arms an squeeze her (in frustration as much as in joy). “But Elizabeth, you must understand that-“

She stopped him. “No. We can talk later. It is past noon. We’ve not much time. Rene,” she spoke, looking over his shoulder, “please bring Pastor Ryans out. The groom has arrived.”

Mr. Bennet spotted the church just as the bells struck noon. He should have found it much sooner, but his agitation had interfered with his navigational skills, and he had lost himself on the narrow, uncomplicated streets of the tiny seaside village more times than seemed possible.

He rushed at the door… only to find it locked. Quickly, he ran around to the side of the dusty white building and found a window situated close to the ground. The window stood at the back of the church, and Mr. Bennet’s gaze traveled up the isle balanced on each side by simple wooden pews and to the couple that stood just below a preacher.

Elizabeth’s dark curls hung loose in back, and Darcy’s arms hung to his sides. If the enraged father had paid more attention to the pair, he might have noticed that the woman before him was a tad tall to be Elizabeth, and that the presumed Darcy’s hair was straight, without the wavy disarray that the master of Pemberley's hair often fell into; that the man’s frame was slighter, the woman’s hair a slightly different shade.

But, being an agitated father, he noticed none of this, and instead, flew into a fury. Rushing back towards the door, he banged loudly with his fists, paying no heed to the pain the useless pummeling sent up his arms. He yelled, loudly, angrily: “Unhand my daughter villain! I will never forgive you Elizabeth! Never!”

Mr. Bennet though, as we know, was not a silly man. He knew when he was beaten. Walking back now, a dejected slump to his step, he moved back to the window. When Elizabeth exited this church, it would be as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet, her father’s favorite, replaced by Elizabeth Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley. He gazed in the window once more, but could not stomach to watch even the couple’s backs as the ceremony was silently performed. He could not hear the words, but they reverberated in his mind nonetheless. He turned his back to the scene and once again walked to the church door.

Should he go back to the boat?

Should he stay here to see his daughter?

No, she was no longer his daughter. She was Darcy’s wife. “I am very much alright,” she had said to him happily. She had fallen in love with a good, sensible man. But Mr. Bennet had never wanted his daughter to fall in love. Love was fine for Jane, and lust for the other three silly girls he’d produced, but not for Lizzy. She was a sensible creature. And love was simply not a sensible emotion. It assuredly made its victims insensible. He knew! He had loved his wife when he’d married her. Or… perhaps that had been lust.

Such musings occupied the fretful father while much lighter subject matter was being discussed at the alter inside the church. The “preacher,” a young man who’d not yet taken his vows, and therefore did not have the power to exercise any marriage vows, was fascinated with his guests. He had read what there was to read of Jonathan Richards’ work and admired it very much. He asked questions of both young writers as they stood in the charade of a marriage pose, and cast furtive, curious glanced toward Elaina. Jonathan did not like this, and frowned everytime the young clergyman’s eyes skimmed over his friend. At one point, he took Elaina’s hand possessively and stared pointedly at the clergyman.

“I… I’m sorry for staring Miss. Jones, Mr. Richards,” he stammered. “It’s just that the resemblance is amazing!” He turned to face Jonathan more than Elaina. “Surely this is the “woman whose shadow lurks in my heart,” he said, quoting a line from one of Richard’ more desperate works. “I am sorry sir, for you are such an original and imaginative writer but… all your leading ladies carry the same physical attributes and… she is just it! Dark hair and eyes and skin, obviously intelligent with some sort of mysterious quality about her. Surely it is no coincidence!”

Elaina turned her attention from the clergyman to Jonathan. He was blushing! Had he written her into his stories? If he had, it sounded as if he had been more than kind in describing her.

But hadn’t she done the same with him? Hadn’t someone fitting his description fit into each one of her stories? She blushed now, feeling silly for fixating on him so. He was real, and faulty, and human just like her.

But was the young clergyman right? She locked her eyes with his, and after an eternity of sparking silence, Jonathan spoke. “What time is it?”

The clergyman answered, “Half past the hour sir.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” asked Elaina, turning around to stare at the double doors at the end of the long isle, wishing that she could have seen what might have come from that sparking tension. He had been acting differently towards her since her slip of the tongue at the inn. He had kissed her. And that had certainly never happened before. Now he walked down the church isle and carefully opened the door. Stepping out into the bright afternoon sun, he turned his head this way and that, looking for persons of potentially enraged demeanors. After all, he was playing Darcy, the man Mr. Bennet would hate after today. Not a good role for my own safety, thought Mr. Richards vaguely.

Unexpectedly, Elaina was at his side. “Is it safe, do you think?”

“It seems to be so,” replied Richards.

“Do you think it worked? Do you think we deterred him? Do you think Elizabeth and Darcy had enough time?”

“I’m quite sure they have. Only… I’m not so sure if Elizabeth would be able to coerce him into marrying her. He has very specific feelings on this matter Elaina.”

“She’s giving him no choice Jon. If they have had time, then they are married, mark my words,” she said, smirking up at him.

He frowned in reply. “You always think you know more than me don’t you Elaina?”

“Why yes, Jonny me boy. But it is only because I do. Matter of fact-“

Lips crashed down on lips and Elaina was effectively stopped from saying whatever it was she had been about to say. Actually, she was effectively stopped from thinking whatever it was she had been about to say. In all truth, she was stopped from thinking of anything at all.

Jonathan lifted his head and studied her face, her reaction.

“Mr. Richards, what was that for? I did not propose to you.”

“No, but really you did not propose to me the first time either. Or, you did not mean to. I…” He stopped, realizing belatedly that they were in full public view. Pulling her back into the church and shutting the doors behind them, he asked the young clergyman (who had seen the tableau outside the church and had promptly acted as if the church was in dire need of cleaning) to leave them in private. The young man did so quite promptly.

“Elaina, I think of you as my very best friend. Even after all these years apart, you are still dearer to me than anyone I met in London, or anyone I left in America. And I only left because you were so persistent that I should follow my dream, that at least one of us should succeed in the world. I knew you had no feelings for me then, and it broke my heart, and so I left.” He was across the isle from her, his hands placed firmly on the back of the last wooden pew, staring strongly at something ahead of him.

“I? I broke your heart? But if that’s the case, then that implies that you loved me then.”

“I did. I do.” It was hard for him to say it. He hadn’t said it all those years ago because he had been scared of losing the friendship he so loved. But now he knew that the chance of something more with her was more important to him than the friendship he had left in America.

Darcy had said to take what he wanted, to conquer fear and chase his dreams until he attained them… or until they melted pleasantly into his arms, murmuring “yes” to one all important question. A determined gleam lit his eyes and he took one large step over the isle to take Elaina once more in his arms.

“You confuse me Richards. Until this afternoon, you never so much as offered me your hand to help me from a seat!”

“It’s because I knew I couldn’t take it. It is because I knew I’d pull you here, into my arms, and then you’d slap me and never speak to me again.”

This revelation certainly shocked the elder Jones girl. When she’d regained her composure enough to speak, it was to settle his fears. “I have not slapped you yet have I? And you’ve done quite a bit more than hold me in your arms.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I know. And it’s brought me to a wonderful conclusion too.”

“Oh has it? And that is, sir?”

“That you will marry me.” He bravely rested his forehead against hers, refusing to let anxiety and doubt creep into his heart. She would not still be here with him if she was going to reject him. He was quite sure of this.

And he was quite right. Elaina said nothing, but it was not for lack of anything good to say, she simply didn’t know what to say first. “When?” was what finally came out.

He kissed her again.

Chapter 17

Posted on Monday, 14 February 2005

The couple that left the church was not Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of this Mr. Bennet was quite sure. This girl’s skin was darker, her dark hair streaked with auburn in the sunlight. The boy was not as wide in the shoulders nor as tall as Mr. Darcy.

The patriarch of the estrogenic Bennet family was quite perplexed. He knew that Elizabeth had said twelve. He had been at the church at twelve, however, and the couple that had emerged from the building was not his daughter and her kidnapper.

He followed them. He didn’t know why, it was a feeling he had. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when they led him back to Darcy’s boat, The Anne. He stopped a distance from the ship, hiding behind a conveniently stopped coach. He had a good view of the boat, and the group of people on its deck. The dark haired couple he’d confused as Elizabeth and Darcy stood close together, the unexpected target of curious looks and demanding glares. The blonde woman who had been on the boat with him was smiling as she clung to a tall man’s arm. The tall man was the one glaring horribly at the dark haired couple. Being a disapproving father, Mr. Bennet easily recognized the ambivalence on the man’s face. Another young girl, close in resemblance to the female counterpart of the dark haired couple, stood leaning against the ship’s railing, a small boy at her side.

And there was Elizabeth. She stood smiling, a radiance glowing from her face that he had never seen before. He realized with a deadening of his heart that it was the man who had his arms around her waist that inspired this joy in his daughter. It was Mr. Darcy. Had he actually wished to keep this from his daughter? Had he actually wished her to be miserable the rest of his life? He blushed at the thought, shame staining his cheeks a bright red, down casting his eyes to his shoes. He realized with horribly clarity how bad of a father he was being, how selfish he was acting. He knew what he needed to do.

With slow, dragging step, Mr. Bennet walked up the gangplank.

Darcy’s arms tightened abruptly around Elizabeth, pulling her protectively to his side. Elizabeth looked up startled into her new husband’s face and frowned. His eyes gazed fiercely at something in the near distance, his mouth pulled tight, and his eyebrows knit together. She turned to see what he was glaring at, only to see her father’s slumped shoulders trudging up the gangplank. She pulled Darcy’s hands from her hips and pushed herself from his arms, silencing him with a hard look. She walked to her father and taking his hand, lead him to where Darcy stood.

“Father… I would like you to meet my husband.” She knew her words sounded silly, that her hopes were futile, that her father would likely strike her husband and both would throw each other off the ship in the battle that would ensue. She hoped that Mr. Jones and Mr. Richards would be able to handle the situation. She stepped aside then, praying that each man might extend his hand in, if not friendship, then at least truce.

Long minutes passed. Long minutes that were lengthened even more by the beating of her heart in her chest, her throat, her ears. The two men stared stonily at one another, each suspicious about the other’s actions.

Mr. Bennet extended his hand, and warily, Darcy grasped it.

“You make my daughter happy, and though I personally cannot see how, I know that Elizabeth is an intelligent woman, and I trust her judgment. Though you did not have my blessing before, you have it now, though I know it means nothing to you.” The old man quieted on these last words, his eyes, which had once held Darcy’s, now moved to the side, gazing out to sea. He dropped his hand to his side.

Elizabeth took it in her own, smiling up at her father. “Thank you,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Thank you Father. Your blessing does matter. You’ve no idea how much it matters papa.”

He looked down into his daughters face. She still loved him. She still respected and needed him. Though she was married to a very worthy, handsome, intelligent and noble man, it changed nothing about the way she felt for him, her father.

He pulled her into his arms and sobbed silently into her ear, “I’m sorry Lizzy. So very, very sorry my dear.” They remained locked in their embrace for some time, surrounded by the curious silence of the onlookers.

When he felt composed, Mr. Bennet pulled away and straightened himself. He turned to address his new son in law. “I would like to join in any festivities that might go on tonight… if you will have me.”

“Of course we will,” spoke Darcy without a moment’s hesitation. You are my wife’s father, and for her, you are welcome in my house.

The guards posted at the gangplank had not let her on the boat. No one, they told her, was to board after Mr. Darcy had. They had been direct orders from the pretty young girl with sparkling brown eyes and bouncing dark curls.

So Caroline had watched the ceremony with cold rage from the back of a deserted cart. She knew she could not gain access to the boat without creating a scene. She would not create a scene! It was simply not something Caroline Bingley did. She did not stay to see the rather complying kidnapped groom stoop to kiss the lips of his new wife. She had, instead, began her plan of action. Darcy and the country wench were legally married now, but was her life over? Were her plans ruined? No! Caroline Bingley was nothing if not resilient. With this in mind, she went off in search of the fastest boat in dock. She would reach England by tomorrow night, Rosings by the next morning, and within two more days, have the righteously indignant and overly repellant Collins as her ally.

Caroline, though usually sensible, could not admit defeat in this case. For by the time she returned with Collins at her side, the marriage act, considering the excited impatience of not only Darcy, but Elizabeth as well, was quite likely to have taken place already. Several times… if Darcy had anything to do with it… which he most certainly did.

Darcy stepped into the carriage and pulled the dark curtains over the windows. Taking a deep breath, he sat across from his wife, wishing to talk first. For he knew that once he touched her, there would be no time for talking, no breath for it. He had nearly carried her away into one of the Anne’s rooms when he had kissed her to end the ceremony. To control himself, he concentrated on his wife’s smiling eyes.

“Are you alright with going back to the house?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I prefer it. We would take up every single room in that small inn if our small army insisted on staying there. But… surely you did not have to hire another carriage. We might have just borrowed your messenger’s horse for my father to ride, and traveled back the same way we traveled here.”

“With me on a horse and you in a carriage with silly young girls and an injured young boy? No. Besides, Mrs. Jones is better suited to ride in there. They do not have a governess any longer. Their mother has returned.” He smiled. She had traded the title of governess for that of Mrs. Darcy. It was the most wonderful thing in the world… though it had taken a deuced long time in happening!

“Yes, but there is still room for me, if Hinton sat on one of our laps. And then you would only have had to get the horse for father,” countered the ever sensible Elizabeth.

“Madam pirate… I would not expect someone who has just forced a man into marriage to not want to be alone with him. You should be asserting your superiority over me. Am I your slave now? Is that why you’ve captured me?”

She laughed musically and Darcy almost vaulted out of his seat to take her into his arms. But, clinching his fists, kept his position across from her. “William… Dread Pirate Darcy, you are not my captive, not my slave. You are my husband. And since I am the Pirate Queen, you are now my King, and we shall have to rule the high seas ruthlessly together. It’s just that…”

“Yes Elizabeth? You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just that you must stay over on that side of the carriage.”

Darcy erupted in jovial laughter and Elizabeth scowled when it seemed that he could not stop.

“I do not see that anything is funny Mr. Darcy!”

He answered her in between bursts of laughter and gasps for breath. “Oh my dear Elizabeth, do you mean that you do not feel it quite safe to be alone in a carriage with your husband?!”

She blushed. How could she not! “It’s just that. Darcy… you cannot begin to understand how I love you I believe. And I’m afraid that if you kiss me… then I will not want you to stop. And… nothing about our marriage or courtship has been typical, traditional, normal. And I find that it does not bother me as much as I thought it would… only… I’d like for our wedding night to be very special. And a carriage does not strike me as a wonderfully romantic place to make love!” She ended with her eyes boring into his, daring him to make fun of her.

“Elizabeth, I would never… I could never… do you think so low of me?”

“Well, you are very passionate, and very impulsive.”

Darcy wanted to laugh, but did not want to step on the sensibilities of his new wife. “Those seem to be characteristics I’ve only just recently developed. You seem to have triggered the passionate, impulsive side of me, dear heart.

“But you’ve nothing to worry about. I’ve a surprise for you… for tonight. It’s a place I’ve dreamed of us being man and wife in… and it is the only place I wish to take you to tonight. Until then, you are completely safe from me.”

“Completely safe?” she asked, her face changing from serious to playful in an instant.

“Of course! Do you doubt me?” he said, playfully indignant.

“No. And to prove my trust… come sit by me my husband. I find that I would like to spend the remainder of our trip with your arm about my shoulders.”

And of course Darcy was helpless to resist. She was, after all, the pirate queen, and a mere pirate king was nothing to the charms and wiles of his woman. Moving to her side, he pulled her frame against his own and slipped his arm about her gently sloping shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyelids pulled softly down over her fine eyes. The eyes that had first attracted him to her. They were his now. She was his! How had he been so lucky? He kissed her gently yet possessively, and then with a contented sigh, she rested her head upon his shoulder, and closed her eyes to sleep. It had after all, been quite an eventful day.

Elaina and Richards had somehow connived to deprive Mr. Bennet from his horse, setting him up quite comfortably inside the other carriage in Elaina’s stead. Elaina had only ever ridden a horse twice in her life, but found that if was something she wished thoroughly to know how to do, and well. So she listened patiently to the commands given her by her riding companion, oblivious to the curious stares her own father was cutting towards her.

When Richards was quite sure that she had the hang of it, and was not going to fall to her doom, he paced his horse beside her, and they dropped a considerable distance behind the carriages and Mr. Jones, who was leading the party.

“Elaina… May I speak with your father… about us?” Jonathan’s voice was timid, quiet, unsure, and the deep timbre of it made Elaine blush and sigh deeply all at once.

“Please do. Tonight?”

“Yes! If the opportunity arises… most certainly!”

“What about right now? He’s alone, and has nothing to do, nothing to otherwise occupy his attentions. It’s perfect Jonboy. You cannot say no.”

He frowned his disagreement, but looking from her determined playful eyes to her father riding ahead alone, he realized that she was right. Now was the perfect time. And he was sure that her father was not blind, nor a fool. He was quite aware that there was something between his daughter and Mr. Darcy’s secretary… the impoverished amateur writer. Impoverished… surely Mr. Jones would not mind. But… did Richards himself mind? He would not be able to provide for the girl he loved; he would not be able to give her the comfortable life that her father had given her. She would be back at square one with him… thrown back into the poverty she had lived in when she lived with her mother.

She was still watching him, pushing him to make his intentions known to her father. He threw her a weak smile and pushed his horse forward.

Mr. Jones’s shoulders were broad, strong, as if he had spent his life doing battle, and would at any moment be poised to re-enter it. Had the battle he had fought been for his daughters? Would he still wage wars on their behalves? Richards somehow knew he would.

“Mr. Jones… I wish to speak with you sir.”

“I’ve expected this Richards. You may, of course, have your say, but I will speak first. And you will listen.” The two men rode side by side, staring forward into the shaded unknown of the tree lined road.

“Yes, of course sir.”

“You wish for the hand of my daughter Elaina. Is that right?”

Richards nodded his answer, and Mr. Jones’s head shifted ever so slightly to see it. “I thought so. I assume Elaina has told you our story. Indeed, she never leaves a story untold. So I assume that you realize that I have only just regained my daughters. I’d not seen my Elaina for thirteen years, and was only able to have her with me as a part of my life for a year now. She would not leave with me without her sister. And I did not want to leave without Rene either. I wonder… do you appreciate your talks with her as I do? Do you marvel at her wit and feel pride at her beauty?

“But these are unfair questions. You are not her father. You cannot feel the same way for her that I do.

“You are a good man Jonathan Richards. And I believe that you have my daughter’s best interests at heart. You may marry my daughter. I ask but one thing.” He ended, now turning fully to face the young man riding beside him. His face was grave, his brown eyes young and vital once more, refusing to be denied. The man, thought Richards, could have a vicious temper is provoked.

“Anything sir. Anything for Elaina’s hand.” And he meant it.

“I would tell you not to be scared, but I find that I want you that way concerning my daughter. I will not see her hurt or lacking in any way. And since I believe that denying you in her life would hurt her immeasurably, I cannot, I will not do it. But I must insist that you have a long engagement.”

“That’s all!” exclaimed Richards with much relief. Truthfully, he would prefer a quick marriage much like Mr. Darcy and Miss. Elizabeth…Mrs. Darcy now… but if a long engagement was the only thing that Elaina’s father asked of him…

Chapter 18

Posted on Saturday, 9 April 2005

Merely a week had passed since Mr. And Mrs. Darcy’s disappearance into the secluded cabin located somewhere on Mr. Darcy’s vast Scottish estate. While it is not polite to dwell on the intimate dealings of any two people, it is important to note that Darcy was not disappointed in the reality of his previous daydreams involving Elizabeth and said cabin. Undeniably, the daydreams could not live up to the reality of leaping flames in the fireplace, tingling wine, and dancing eyes. Therefore, it was with heavy hearts that Darcy and his new wife set out to leave their honeymoon hideaway. They would liked to have had a considerably longer honeymoon, but due to the unusual circumstances surrounding their marriage, decided that the increased activity at Darcy’s residence and the complete lack of knowledge on the Bennet family’s half, were pressing situations indeed.

Walking up the wide steps arm in arm, they were at first unaware of the increasing noises emanating from the previously serene house (Perhaps they had simply become accustomed to the very loud “disagreements of the Jones sisters). But when the undeniable sound of smashing glass accosted their ears, they simultaneously broke into a mad dash to reach the offenders quickly. The sounds of fighting, for fighting it surely was, came from a small sitting room to the side of the entrance. The door stood wide open; servants peeked cautiously in, wishing to see the commotion, but not wishing to be hit by various flying objects in the process. Darcy and Elizabeth did not wait to enter the room cautiously, instead they charged into the room, Darcy taking in the scene in one quick second. The room was split. Mr. Richards stood on one side of the room, valiantly attempting to hold back a raging Rene while casting worried glances at his new fiancé who stood, hands on hips, glaring ominously at the occupants of the other side of the room. Darcy was not sure, as he was sure Richards was not sure, that Elaina was not going to do more than just glare. She seemed perched on the edge of violent action. However, since her younger sister had already toppled over said edge, it was more important to make sure her flailing fists and kicking knees did not come in contact with the object (or objects) of their desire.

The occupants of the other side of the room were astonishing to say the least. Darcy had not thought that such a cataclysm was possible. Surely some demon in hell had set his store against him for there was no other way in which this combination of… annoyances to say it lightly, could ever come together. Or perhaps, thought Darcy uncharacteristically lightly, it was fated for such unwelcome and wholly unappealing personages to unite. For unite they had. And a more unholy and frightening triumvirate could certainly not be found, for the combined powers of Caroline Bingley, William Collins, and Lady Catherine De Bourgh stood aghast on the other side of the room.

Darcy spared a quick look for Elizabeth who looked exceedingly shocked one second, then exceedingly amused the next. And truthfully, Elizabeth was not over worried. Had perhaps this trio arrived a week and a day earlier, before she had secured her beloved husband, she might have felt worry, dread even, but as it was, she could not be harmed. Unless, that is, this combined threat had called upon some unearthly powers to gain their wills. But that, of course, was highly unlikely.

“Darcy!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, ever in charge as always. “Call away these heathens! They say they are guests in your home, but you obviously would not allow such wild chits to abide under your roof!” She had apparently decided to deal with the most immediate threat first.

“You evil old hag!” exclaimed Rene before anyone could comment. “Elizabeth! She’s here to tear you from Mr. Darcy! And to… to… to give you to him!” she cast a disgusted and accusatory finger in Mr. Collins’ direction. “And she,” now the finger turned towards Caroline, “means to have Mr. Darcy for herself!”

“Will you allow such blatant disrespect for myself Darcy! Will you? Will you! Surely you will see to her immediate removal from this premise! Do not fret with it! I can do it for myself!” At that, she began to screech the name of some unknown servant.

“Aunt Catherine!” Bellowed Darcy, attempting to gain control of the overwhelming situation. “The commotion shall desist this very moment!” If the racket made within the house had not been heard for miles, surely Mr. Darcy’s voice had. Silence inevitably ensued this loud command, and strangely (but perhaps not so strange), triumphant grins grew upon the lips of all in the room, except for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy who were quite perturbed by the disturbance.

Lady Catherine’s triumphant mien was spurred by the idea that her nephew was about to call off those wild monsters in the form of young girls and he hope that he would soon renounce the pretty young lady on his arm and throw her to the man she was really supposed to be married to. Lady Catherine of course, was soon to be disappointed, for with a fierce gaze, her own nephew turned on her!

“Aunt Catherine, what is the meaning of this? You have never stepped foot in Scotland in your life, and now you come not only into a foreign land, but into my home?!”

“Your home is my home Darcy! I do not know what you mean by all this!” she sent a worried glance toward Rene and Elaina. “Send those things from the room this instant!”

“What things?” inquired Elizabeth. “The chairs, the tables, the pictures perhaps?” Elizabeth knew she should not tease the old lady so, but her wicked streak had a habit of appearing at the most inopportune moments.

“What things indeed! Those monsters! Those girls!”

“Oh. Rene and Elaina? I am quite sure, Lady Catherine, that they take great exception to being referred to as ‘things.’ But I believe you are right in the matter.” Darcy looked at his wife, startled, as did all in the room.

“William,” she spoke to her husband, “I believe I shall take both Miss. Jones’ into their room and speak with them.”

Darcy looked confused at first. He couldn’t figure out whether she was separating the two opposing factions, attempting to find some peace, or if she was simply abandoning him to the cold mercy of his aunt. “Yes…I shall come to you later.” He smiled at her as she walked from the room ushering the two taller young ladies in front of her. Strangely, thought Darcy, they had not uttered a single protest.

Darcy turned his attention to his young secretary who now stood purposeless in the middle of the room. Stooping to a small desk, he dipped an idle pen into an inkwell and scratched quickly across a blank sheet of paper. “Mr. Richards, thank you for your assistance during my absence, but you are free to go now. I must speak with my aunt alone. Before you run off to console your fiancé however, I would have you send a messenger to the village.” With these words, Darcy handed the neatly folded paper to Mr. Richards.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” spoke Richards succinctly while bowing gracefully. He turned on one well-polished heel, a move he had learned by studying his new boss and mentor Mr. Darcy, and swept from the room.

Darcy then turned to the Trying Triumvirate. “Aunt Catherine, Caroline, Mr. Collins, I give you leave to explain your presence on my estate, and then I will ask you to quickly take your departure.”

“That was the man Elizabeth! The one you told us of, whom Mr. Darcy saved you from! Oh Elizabeth he’s so ugly!” Rene was quick to release her excited thoughts as Elizabeth closed the heavy door of the girls’ sitting room behind them.

“Rene, that’s unfair. It’s not so much that he’s… well… Well Elizabeth I must be honest, if not so cruelly so as Rene, but that Mr. Collins is certainly not the most attractive man. Not near as handsome as Mr. Darcy.” Rene snorted as if in disbelief that Elaina could even make such a comparison. “But it’s not so much that he’s… not handsome, than that he’s such a fool. The things he said, the way he coddled up to that horrid old woman and that skinny snobbish woman. It’s quite clear she’s a fortune hunter Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth was trying hard to keep her smile from her lips. The American girls’ candidness was fresh and most certainly appealing. They certainly were not prone to simpering praise as many young girls were of those higher in society, and they were also not prone to giving a benefit of a doubt to those undeserving of good opinions. They were not like her dear sister Jane, and not at all like any of her other sisters, though before she might have regarded Rene as close to Lydia in personality.

In the end she lost the battle with the corners of her lips and they pulled upward into an undeniably impish grin. “I should scold both of you for saying such things.” But as she had often thought them herself, she knew she wouldn’t. “Now,” she said, plopping rather inelegantly into a nearby chair, “what exactly happened in there?”

Rene looked to her older sister, the experienced storyteller, to relay the events as they had happened.

“Rene and I were in the Library with Jonathan when we heard a carriage roll across the gravel out front. We didn’t really think much of it until that woman, Lady Catherine, came bursting through the doors, demanding to see her ‘revered nephew,’ the distinguished, and obviously in trouble, Mr. Darcy. When she spied us lounging rather languidly about the furniture she demanded to know who we were and what we were doing in her nephew’s house. Of course we told her that our father was a close friend of Mr. Darcy and that he was away at the moment, with his wife. With you.”

“Oh Elizabeth,” interrupted Rene, “she was so angry! She kept demanding to know exactly who Elizabeth Bennet was, and was beside herself that ‘this Bennet girl cannot be of any social standing if I’ve never heard of her!’ And then that odious Miss. Bingley started in about how countrified you were, how inelegant and unrefined. ‘Hardly a beauty!’ said she, among other insults. She said that you were to go back and marry Mr. Collins, the greasy man standing beside her, because Mr. Darcy had been gravely mistaken. She said you were nothing more than a wench of a fortune hunter!”

“And that’s when Rene ran at her,” said Elaina matter of factly.

“Rene ran at Miss. Bingley?! To attack her?!” exclaimed a not so surprised Elizabeth. Ashamedly, her exclamation was more out of amusement than any real surprise.

“Yes! She did! But then Jonathan pulled her back before she could crawl over the couch that stood between her and Miss. Bingley.”

Elizabeth wanted to chuckle at the image of Rene crawling, skirts and all, over the couch in the library to bowl over a defenseless Miss. Bingley. “Well that was quick thinking on Mr. Richards’ part.”

Elaina agreed with an emphatic nod of her head before continuing. “And that’s when you and Mr. Darcy made you fortunate entrance. Had you not appeared… Jonathan would not have been able to hold both of us back I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I doubt he would,” agreed Elizabeth.

“You have stolen Mr. Collins’ wife nephew. I demand you return her.” She did not wait for Mr. Darcy to answer, but continued as if simply making known the disorganized thoughts of her mind. “But I assume you will refuse to do what is most sensible. But it is not your fault that a conniving temptress has ensnared you. A virtuous, chaste young man can only hold out for so long.”

Darcy, whose countenance was growing an ever brighter shade of red as his aunt called his wife a “conniving temptress” was thrown totally off guard by her next comment regarding his weak state of chastity. A state that, if had not been remedied by youthful indiscretions, was most certainly, after the last week in a secluded cottage with Elizabeth Bennet, no longer a problem for him. He blanched, his eyes widened, and all powers of speech failed him. His aunt was referring to… and she had called Elizabeth…! He would not dignify her remarks with an answer, and simply waited for her to finish, for she was still talking.

“I’ve no doubt that I can obtain whatever annulment or papers that I need to. And if there is a child, we shall simply attribute it to Mr. Collins. You are both tall of stature and dark of looks.” Mr. Collins didn’t look as if her was quite comfortable with the idea of taking credit for Mr. Darcy’s progeny, but was confused by the fact that the idea came from the very lips of his patroness, the great condescending Lady Catherine DeBourg. Mr. Darcy certainly did not like the idea of his child being raised by that greasy amphibian of a man, and the set line of his jaw hardened into seemingly unbreakable stone, and the cold ice of his glare turned lethal, not that anyone in the room noticed, with the exception of Mr. Collins who was quite sure that Mr. Darcy felt just as unfavorable about Lady Catherine’s idea as he did, or as he might have, had his patroness not been the one to recommend it, thought the poor parson confusedly. Lady Catherine went on. “And we shall tell all that that man was simply not you. You were at Rosings with me, not stealing a bride from the altar.”

Her rantings were absurd. Darcy could not fathom how she thought she could pull this elaborate lie off, but he suspected that she had finally found something beyond her great influence. He KNEW she had found something beyond her great influence, for nothing could make him give up his Elizabeth. With this thought, some of the anger he felt subsided, and his aunt’s words sounded sillier than ever. Finally, he interrupted her.

“Aunt, you do not understand. Elizabeth is my wife until death do us part. I will not annul our marriage. I’ve no desire to anything of the sort! I bloody kidnapped her! I kidnapped her, and convinced her to marry me! Despite your slander of her character, Elizabeth is the most virtuous of women. I will not allow anyone who does so to remain in my home, our home.” His words were final, and though not punctuated by a finger pointing towards the door, should have been for all the steely purpose in them.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy! She is this man’s wife!” Lady Catherine did point her finger, but towards the sweating, obviously uncomfortable Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins thought of reminding her that the wedding ceremony had never been finished, a fact she was should have been very well aware of, but Mr. Darcy was quicker than him.

“Aunt Catherine,” spoke Darcy, surprisingly calm, “She is Elizabeth Darcy, not Elizabeth Collins. She is my wife. I did not want to have to actually throw you from my house Aunt, but now I must ask you to leave. I am not sorry to Mr. Collins for abducting his bride, he and Elizabeth would never have suited one another, and I do not even want to know what part Miss. Bingley played in this great drama, but not a single one of you is welcome in my house.” With those final words, Darcy stomped towards the sitting room door. He had hardly exited the room however, when he felt a violent jerk on his arm. Swinging around, he came face to face with Miss. Caroline Bingley.

“Miss. Bingley, I suggest you tread carefully with whatever you have to say. I am in no humor to put up with your nonsense.”

“I am in disbelief sir. I was under the impression that we shared an understanding,” was her offended remark.

“An understanding? What have I ever done to prompt you to hold such beliefs?” He stood waiting for an answer, but of course, she could give him none.

“She is beneath you in every way. How can you possibly connect yourself with someone so lowly?” Her voice was heated now, angry.

“Lowly? Lower than me? How? In circumstance? In financial holdings? Perhaps. But in virtue, character, intelligence, humor? I think not. Your abundance of the aspects you find her so deficient in could never make up for your total lack of the qualities that make her dear to me.” He paused, letting the fury drain from his tone. It was not gentlemanly to say such things, though a pirate might. “I would not have said such things Miss. Bingley, had you not pursued them. I do not wish to overly grieve you, but perhaps you might come to learn exactly what traits are important, and which are not.” Ignoring her confounded gaze and drooping jaw, he pulled his arm from her grasp and turned towards the room he knew Elizabeth and the Jones girls would be.

Stopping to knock on the door to their sitting room, his eminent knock was momentarily halted by his butler, inelegantly rushing towards him.

“What is it?” he asked cautiously.

“Lady Catherine. She is refusing to leave, refuses to let her parson leave and the young lady.”

Darcy took this news without emotion except for the imperceptible hardening of his features: eyes, jaw, lips. “She refuses to leave,” he stated more for himself than as a confirmation with the butler of his aunt’s actions.

“Yes sir.”

“Send word for preparations to begin immediately. My wife and I will be traveling home tomorrow. Pemberley awaits.”

Continued in Next Section