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Chapter 18 Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Elizabeth was jostled down the dark, narrow hallway from Lady Catharine's sitting room to a flight of stairs. She nearly tripped down them, so hurried was she with Wickham constantly jabbing her in the back with the revolver and the lack of balance due to her tied hands. Her original plan of screaming for help had been quickly squashed when Fallworthy gagged her before their mad run. The cloth was dirty and made it difficult to breathe. After a short sprint down a back alley, they came upon a carriage that had been so well concealed in the darkness that Elizabeth did not even see it until they were upon it. She was pushed inside, and was grateful at least that she would no longer have to run. She sat grasping for breath while Wickham said a few hurried words to someone and pulled himself inside. With a jolt they were off. The carriage was dilapidated and antique, but in spite of its age and Elizabeth's fear that it would fly apart at any moment took them with great speed to the edge of London. When the noise of the city could not longer be heard, Wickham removed the cloth from Elizabeth's mouth. Wickham watched her with interest, but Elizabeth chose to remain silent, and turned her head defiantly to the side of the coach.
"What, no tirade of insults? No scolding? A rare woman indeed..." Wickham looked her over speculatively. "But perhaps you are not too proud as to wonder at Fallworthy's role in your father's affairs?" He chuckled as Elizabeth snapped her head around.
"It is true then! Mr. Layton was involved in the ruination of my father?"
"Very astute! Yes, my dear, I am afraid that your family's estate, and all those lovely dowries so necessary to get you all married were nicely channelled into the pockets of some of the most, well, shall I say, brilliant? Conniving? Shrewd? men in the country..." Wickham chuckled at his own witticisms.
"But how was it accomplished? We were assured there were debts, that it was inevitable!" Elizabeth cried.
"Your father, while alive, was generally accepted to be an intelligent man, was he not, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth said nothing. "Well, let me teach you a thing or two. Intelligence will not get one very far if one does not know how to use it. I suppose I can tell you the whole scheme seeing as you are not going to live much longer. Your curiosity must be especially painful. Let me oblige." He smiled, obviously enjoying the pain he inflicted on her.
"First of all, Fallworthy, known to you as Mr. Layton, had been working closely with your father's steward, Mr. Trump, to manipulate the books and operations of your father's estate over the course of several years."
"Mr. Trump! You are joking! He was one of Father's most trusted employees!" Elizabeth cried.
"People are obviously not always as they seem. Mr. Trump, unbeknownst to your father, had a weakness for the gaming table, and although by nature not inclined to dishonesty, the inducement of ten hungry brats, a nagging wife, and a creditor threatening to jail him was enough to make him come to his senses. And so it was, thanks to your father's negligence and tendency to bury himself in his library, entrusting all his affairs to his steward, that Mr. Trump and Fallworthy succeeded in, little by little, laundering his money to various places, constructing a wonderfully massive debt, and voila! Ruining your father's fortune and creating ours!" Wickham laughed maliciously.
"But I do not understand the role you played in it?" Elizabeth questioned in confusion.
Wickham leaned toward her, and with great relish, replied, "Allow me to introduce myself: George Wickham, the single most brilliant artist of deceit in all of England!" He laughed again. "You do not recognize me? Perhaps if I donned a white wig and the robe of a judge?"
Elizabeth paled. "You were not the judge..."
"Fantastic memory, Miss Bennet! I should inform you that, besides formally announcing your father officially bankrupt, and confining the rest of you to poverty, I was also the mastermind behind the whole scheme! My own brilliant, brilliant, plan!" Elizabeth closed her eyes, and willed herself not to cry. The sheer force of these revelations made her tremble with emotion. To think of her beloved papa, suffering at the hands of such wicked men! She could not prevent a hot, angry tear from sliding down her exhausted face and dripping into her cloak. Wickham, however, was too involved admiring his wickedness to notice her distress.
"Loathe as I am to boast of my own prowess in my field of expertise," he continued, "I think it only fair to tell you that I have had one of the most successful careers of any villain I know! And at such a young age! Indeed, I believe that I have only been prevented twice from obtaining my object!" Wickham gritted his teeth. "Twice, yes, and both times cheated by that good-for-nothing Darcy! My childhood enemy! Too many times he has soiled my plans! Well, he will pay for that! Yes, he, will..."
"What are you going to do?" Elizabeth asked anxiously.
Wickham turned his glittering, speculative eye on her. "Does it worry you to think of your Mr. Darcy coming to harm? Do not fret yourself, my dear. Soon enough it won't make any difference to you. You see, we had intended to find you a nice comfortable place at the bottom of the Thames, but then I had the brilliant realization that the combination of his professed love for you and his most annoying and overblown sense of honour, could be the means of getting another large portion of the Darcy fortune. Then we could send both you and Darcy to the bottom of the Thames together. I confess, nothing would make me happier than to see his head sinking to a watery grave..."
To Elizabeth's relief, Wickham broke off as the carriage came to an abrupt halt. The strain of the conversation was enough to make her feel she would faint, but she willed herself to keep calm. The carriage had stopped in a courtyard of what seemed, in the darkness, to be an ancient and decaying castle. The walls, once strongly fortified, were now jagged. All of the turrets but one had been reduced to stubble. The remaining tower leaned ominously over the ruins as if it would topple at any moment. Piles of rubbish and stones interspersed the weed-ridden courtyard. It seemed to Elizabeth uninhabitable, but she noticed candle glittering in a far corner window. Wickham barked orders to Fallworthy, and another man, who had appeared out of the darkness. He then roughly led her through a maze of ancient corridors, and many, many stairs until they reached a small door. Wickham then procured a set of keys from his cloak, unlocked the door, and shoved her into the darkness. Without a word he slammed and locked the door. His footsteps echoed and at last disappeared into the night.
Elizabeth stood shivering in her new prison. The room was small and circular, and she guessed that she was now seeing the inside of the leaning tower. There was a small bed with a blanket on one side, and a small window on the other. Elizabeth walked to the window, which was open to the night air and looked out. It was just high enough for her head to peer out over the countryside. The view of the surrounding countryside bathed in darkness confirmed that she was very high above ground. By pushing the small bed underneath and standing on it she was able to better ascertain the height. She surveyed for a brief second the smooth stone wall dropping to the dark ground and shuddered at the thought of attempting to escape by that route. She huddled into her cloak and sat upon the bed in an attempt to think of what she should do. After a few minutes of shivering from the cool draft ruffling her hair, she decided it would be best to push the small bed away from the window. Having done so, she laid down upon the bed in a stupor. She sat for some time in a state of shock, unable to completely process all that had passed. Her father's fortune had been stolen by Mr. Trump, by Wickham ... Lady Catharine had employed Wickham ... Wickham intended to trap Darcy and kill them both ... Her trance-like thoughts were once interrupted by Wickham, who unlocked the door, threw her a piece of stale bread and a decanter of water, called her a nasty name and then went away again. She could not bring herself to eat it; all appetite was long gone. At last the events of the day overwhelmed her, and she fell into an exhausted and troubled slumber.
Elizabeth awoke some hours later. It was still pitch black and the wind howled around the desolate tower, causing whistling noises through the single window. Elizabeth drew herself into a ball in an attempt to keep warm on the hard, desolate bed. The ropes on her wrists had begun to irritate her skin and she was beginning to shiver uncontrollably. Thoughts of sinking through cold, swift water would intrude in spite of her efforts not to think of it. And what will become of Darcy? She thought for the hundredth time. Will he come here? What kind of trap has Wickham laid for him? Oh, if only I could warn him away before he is killed! Oh, I cannot bear it! Elizabeth's resistance broke down. To her shivering was now added uncontrollable sobbing at the injustice and helplessness of her situation. To know that her beloved family had been ruined by Wickham, and that the same man would ruin the only man she had ever loved, that soon she would be separated from all of them, that she would descend to a watery grave-it was too much. She tried to collect her wits and think of some way to escape, but the emotional taxation of the past days and weeks made this impossible. She gave into the sobs and let them rack her until she had no more tears. There is nothing to do now but await my fate...
A sudden noise outside her window caused her to sit up in terror. She drew in her breath and sat motionless, scarcely breathing. For a moment she thought maybe she had imagined it-there was nothing but the relentless howling of the wind. But there it was again, a scraping noise coming from not too far below her window. What it was she could not imagine. It was getting louder, and this time she heard the sound of heavy breathing, and then what sounded like a rock come loose and clatter a long distance to the ground. She heard a male voice curse briefly-she could not recognize it amidst the howling wind.
"Oh, what should I do?" Elizabeth whispered. She knew not what kind of menace was seeking entrance to her prison, but in her exhaustion she determined that she would make one last stand against intruders. Her eyes frantically darted about the room. The decanter of water! It was glass; if she concealed herself in the shadow, she might be able to take the stranger unawares. Elizabeth shakily stood and after emptying the bottle, took it awkwardly between her tied hands. She then positioned herself in the shadows beside the window and waited. She listened in trepidation as the heavy breathing and scraping grew nearer. It seemed like an eternity to her as she waited for the horror seeking access to her chamber. Finally the window darkened as the intruder hauled himself into its opening. There was a brief moment of suspension, and then the man dropped to the floor. Elizabeth, heart beating fast, raised the glass bottle high and with a cry brought it down swiftly onto the stranger's head. The man, forewarned by the noise, swivelled with surprising swiftness and caught her wrist just as the bottle was to make its mark. The decanter crashed to the floor and Elizabeth winced in pain at the tight grip on her wrist. Elizabeth looked up in panic at the intruder. He was tall, but his face was framed in shadow; she could not make out his features.
"Elizabeth!" The familiar voice spoke anxiously in the darkness.
"Fitzwilliam!!" Elizabeth could sustain herself no longer; with a sob she collapsed into his arms, which enfolded her, holding her tightly, warming her, infusing hope and strength into her heart. Neither of them moved for some time; Elizabeth because she could not, so desperately did she need the strength of his arms around her, the warmth of his beating heart, the soothing caress of his hands as he sought to comfort her. Darcy was thinking he would not mind staying in this position forever when Elizabeth broke away from him suddenly and turned to the opposite wall.
"Excuse me, Mr. Darcy ... I forget myself," she said. Darcy was stunned by her abrupt words and distant tone; it was a moment before he could answer her with some composure.
"Of course not ... Are you hurt?" he managed. He moved to her and began cutting away the ropes on her hands with a knife.
"No! I am well. They have not injured me, but you must leave at once, for Wickham informed me himself that he means to kill you once he obtains the ransom money!" Darcy nodded curtly.
"His plan has not changed since we were eight years of age." He removed the last of the rope then strode to the door to examine the lock. After a few unsuccessful tries at forcing it he grew impatient, and drawing himself back, proceeded to deliver powerful kicks to it. On the third attempt, the ancient rotting wood splintered. Darcy kicked at it until a hole of sufficient size had been made.
"They will have heard that, if the sound of broken glass did not already notify them," Darcy announced wryly. "Come." He motioned for Elizabeth to join him. Elizabeth quickly followed his lead through the now shattered doorframe. They had not gone far into the spiralling abyss of stone stairway when men's voices were heard shouting below. Darcy and Elizabeth descended the ancient, crumbling stairs as quickly as they were able considering the ancient stairwell's extreme disrepair and the complete darkness of the passage. Darcy had firmly gripped Elizabeth's elbow and led her at a pace that seemed to Elizabeth insane. She flew behind him, wondering how it was that he could be so sure of each step. She stumbled a few times, and he was always quick to catch her. After he had steadied her and asked if she was all right, they would continue again in the mad circular descent. They had almost reached the bottom when Darcy stopped abruptly. He pushed her back against the inner wall, and positioned himself in front of her. Elizabeth dared not ask him what it was. She stood sandwiched between Darcy and the wall, listening into the darkness. She could hear nothing but their panting. A loud CRACK! split the air. Darcy pushed Elizabeth down, and pressed her head into his chest as a bullet ricocheted off the opposite wall and up the stairs.
"Damn!" he muttered. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing in the direction of the bullet and back up the dark stairwell. Elizabeth was wide-eyed with fear, and wondered which would be worst, plummeting to her death from the top of the tower, or being shot by Wickham at the bottom.
"Darcy!" The voice echoed through the dark stairwell.
"Darcy, I know it's you! Don't try to hide from me, you b---rd!" The scuffle of footsteps was now heard. Darcy grabbed her hand and began pulling her back up the stairwell. The adrenaline pumping through Elizabeth's heart allowed her to ascend almost more quickly than they had descended. When they reached the top, gasping for air, they climbed carefully through the shattered doorframe.
"Take off your shoes!" Darcy ordered. Elizabeth could not understand this injunction, but sat and pulled off the delicately heeled boots. "And your stockings!" Elizabeth looked at him incredulously.
"Just trust me," Darcy met her eye and gave her a look of encouragement. Elizabeth did not hesitate further, and while Darcy busied himself with barricading the door with the bed, she stripped off her stockings. The floor felt cold and dusty on her bare feet.
"Now stuff your shoes inside your stockings and tie it around your waist." Elizabeth did not even bother asking questions now. She pushed the shoes as far into the stockings as she could. For the first time she was glad she could only afford thicker stockings instead of the delicate flimsy ones she used to favour. Darcy finished wedging the small bed into the door frame, and then came to her. He took each end of the stockings and tied them tightly around her waist.
"I need you to pay careful attention," he said quickly. "There isn't much time." He led her to the window. "My horse is tied just behind that cluster of trees. Conceal yourself there for as long as you think it safe, or until I meet you. If I do not come within fifteen minutes, ride the horse straight East along the river, and I will catch up to you. If the worst happens and I do not come at all, continue to follow the river; there is a village within a half-a-day's journey in that direction. Do you understand?"
"I understand everything except how I am to get to the horse in the first place," Elizabeth said in anxious disapproval.
"You are going to climb down using the rope I came up with," Darcy replied calmly. He reached out the windowsill and brought up a thick rope. Elizabeth now noticed the other end had been secured to the windowsill by some sort of metal hook. She wondered briefly when Darcy had managed that as she took a look out the window. After one glance at the ground far beneath her, she backed away and said, "I don't think I can do this."
"You must, darling. I will be right behind you. I know you can do this." Darcy cupped her frightened face in his hands and looked tenderly into her eyes. "You must do this for me," he said gently, urgently. Elizabeth, suddenly elated by the small gesture of intimacy felt she could do anything. Voices and angry footsteps could now be heard approaching the top of the tower. She briefly nodded her consent. Darcy tied the rope around Elizabeth in a kind of sliding knot, which did much to boost Elizabeth's courage. He lifted her up until she sat at the edge of the window sill and was able to swivel her legs around to the other side.
"Now, go!" whispered Darcy urgently. He gave her one last encouraging look. Elizabeth took a deep breath, willed herself not to look at the ground far below, and taking a hold of the rope, eased herself onto the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears as she took her first step down the wall. She thought of Darcy's words, 'You must, darling, I know you can do this' and took another step. With each step she repeated the words. She now saw the wisdom of taking off her shoes and stockings. The stones had been worn and smoothed by centuries of wind and rain, and her bare feet prevented her from slipping. The wind howled around her, whipping the hair in her face and billowing her dress around her legs. She had taken three steps when a gun shot and the sound of splitting wood were heard above her.
"You might as well give up now, Darcy, before I blow your brains out!" Wickham's voice rang through the air.
"Come in here and face me you coward!!" was Darcy's caustic reply. Another explosion was heard, and this time a bullet whistled through the window.
"Please protect him," Elizabeth prayed desperately, and took another step. She knew she must hurry. Who knew how many men would soon be in the room? It could only be a matter of minutes before someone was shooting down at her. She gained courage as each step narrowed the distance between her and the ground. The sounds of shouting and the clashing of metal urged her to quicken her pace. It was with great relief that she finally dropped to the ground and loosened the rope from her waist. She could see the copse of trees within two hundred feet of the tower. Without bothering to put on her shoes and stockings, she took off at a run towards it. Her lungs burned and the undergrowth tore at her feet, but she did not stop until she had reached it.
She soon spied the horse, a massive black stallion, hidden among the bushes, and hoped that she would not have to ride it alone. She hoisted herself up onto it and laid her stomach flat for better concealment. The sky was beginning to lighten now, although the relentless wind showed no sign of stopping with the new day. Peering through the dimness and stared in apprehension up at the tower. She uttered another prayer for Darcy's safe escape, her gaze not wavering from the black hole that marked the window. She started as another gunshot was heard. The horse whinnied and stamped its feet.
"Shhh," she soothed it. As she watched the tower intently, she heard a sound that filled her with horror. A great creaking accompanied by sounds of falling stones filled the early morning air. Her heart stopped as the tower seemed to sway in the dark sky. There were more sounds of clattering stones. Elizabeth held her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. "Please, no!" she whispered in terror. The sound of falling stones became deafening as they crumbled from the swaying height. Finally, after one brief, eternal moment, the massive edifice toppled in a thunderous roar. Elizabeth stared, shocked by what she had seen. It could not be. She had not just watched the tower crumble, taking anything living inside it to certain death. The stallion pranced nervously and snorted, but Elizabeth could not move. She slipped off the horse and fell barefoot to the ground, collapsing on bent knees, her head on the cold earth. A feeling of nausea washed over her. She knelt there for a moment, breathing heavily, reeling from the shock of what she had seen. Then, suddenly recalling Darcy's last words to her, she felt a burst of determination and decided she would not fail him. She hauled herself back onto the horse and kicked his flanks as ferociously as she could. The stallion, already spooked and restless, did not require much encouragement. They took off like lightning through the trees.
It was then that she heard a voice call to her. She looked behind her and saw Darcy running, staggering about twenty feet from the edge of the forest.
"Elizabeth!" his voice carried on the wind. Elizabeth's heart leapt within her and she made an inarticulate exclamation of joy and relief. She pulled on the reins as hard as she could, but the horse was not inclined to stop. Elizabeth half fell, half dismounted from the beast. Not cognisant of anything except that Darcy was running towards her, she stumbled through the underbrush.
"You're alive!" she cried with joy and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank God!" Darcy uncurled her arms from around his neck and pulled her after him as he continued his race toward the stallion.
"...we mustn't stop," he panted, "...there were others who may have seen us..."
When they reached the horse, he mounted and drew her up behind him. Elizabeth noticed a deep wound on his right arm.
"You're bleeding!" she cried, looking in concern at the blood soaking through his shirt.
"It's nothing," he said, and spurred the horse into a breakneck speed. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around him and held on for her life as he manoeuvred the galloping horse along the riverbank. Although dawn had officially arrived, the wind had brought with it an army of black, angry looking clouds. The wind whipped her hair and an occasional raindrop smacked her in the face. As the drops became more frequent, Elizabeth wondered if it was Darcy's intention to ride like a maniac all the way to the village in a thunderstorm. Apparently it was not: when they had reached a turn in the river's course, he took a sharp left into the dense foliage. Surprisingly, there was a well-hidden path among the thick overgrowth. Scarcely fifteen-minutes later, Elizabeth spied a small cottage tucked neatly away beneath some massive firs.
"Just in time," Darcy said as he brought the stallion within the shelter of the trees. The heavens broke and the hitherto drizzling rain came down in sheets.
Chapter 19 Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Elizabeth huddled beneath a large branch as Darcy tied the horse. He then walked to the door and opened it with a key. Elizabeth followed him in. A small one-room hunting cottage met her sight. It was old and simply furnished, although well-kept and clean. There was a bed in one corner, a fireplace on the opposite side, and a wooden table with two sturdy chairs by the hearth. A few cooking utensils and supplies occupied a shelf on one wall. Under Darcy's direction a pile of dry wood next to the hearth was soon transformed into a cheerful fire. Elizabeth moved her chair close to the hearth and attempted to warm herself while Darcy brought in the saddlebags. She pulled the pins from her hair and squeezed the dampness from her locks. Her dress was more or less dry, for which she was very grateful. A sudden shyness overtook her as she slipped her shoes on over bare feet and combed her fingers through her tangled hair. The recollection of what had occurred at the ball came with full force to her mind. Was it her imagination, or had he declared he loved her? Elizabeth blushed and knew not how to act. An unspoken tension settled in the air.
"Would you care for some refreshment, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked politely. Elizabeth nodded and murmured her thanks. As he handed her a small piece of bread and a flask of wine, she suddenly exclaimed,
"Oh! Your arm!" Darcy glanced down at his upper arm, which sported a nasty gash. Although the bleeding had currently stopped, it obviously needed immediate attention.
"I'll take care of it later," Darcy brushed her off. "Please eat this, you must be starving. There is some dried fruit in the saddlebag-"
"Please let me look at it," she interrupted.
"-and some dried nuts-"
"Mr. Darcy, I really would prefer-"
"-there is cheese as well-"
"I will not sit and gorge myself while you bleed to death!" Elizabeth interrupted sharply. "Sit down and let me look at it!" Darcy's mouth twitched slightly as he obediently took a seat. While not life-threatening, it was deep enough that he must have lost quite a bit of blood. His torn shirt had clotted and dried with the wound, and if not cleaned soon, it could easily become infected.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Sir, you will have to remove your shirt in order for me to properly clean it." Darcy nodded, and she ignored the amusement in his eyes at her brusque tone. As he removed his shirt, she busied herself with preparing a pot of boiling water and some clean bandages found in the packs. When at last she turned to her task, she stopped abruptly and stared. Never had she seen a man's naked torso. Her eyes took in the sight of his beautiful chest and naked shoulders flickering in the firelight. She suddenly felt rather weak.
"Is everything all right?" he asked. "I really can take care of this later after you have had something to eat."
"I ... it's fine," she managed, and felt her cheeks and neck burning. Gathering her composure as best she could, she brought her supplies over to the chair and began her ministrations. The removal of the shirt had also removed the clot, and red blood dripped down his arm. Wetting a cloth in the hot water, she gently applied it. Darcy breathed in sharply, but said nothing. Elizabeth glanced up in concern, knowing it must be extremely painful, but instead of suffering in his dark eyes, she found them focussed on her with a warmth that severely unnerved her. Her eyes widened and she quickly looked down. She chose to keep her eyes on the task before her, although her hand trembled slightly and her heart beat faster. Why should I be so afraid of him suddenly? Elizabeth scolded herself. He means me no harm. He has just saved my life. A little voice inside her head responded that it was not precisely the harm he intended that she was afraid of.
Elizabeth could feel his constant gaze on her as she cleaned the deep gash. She prayed the firelight disguised the high colour of her cheeks. She was acutely aware each time her fingers brushed his bare skin, although she tried to avoid contact. She felt jumpy and sensitive to everything around her-the sound of the rain drumming against the roof, the crackle of the fire, her own racing heart, the rise and fall of his chest. Tension electrified the air between them.
"It is fortunate you had these bandages with you," she said softly, hoping that some conversation might alleviate the tension.
"I did not know in what state I would find you," he replied. "Who knew how far Wickham's madness would reach?"
"What happened? How did you find out where they had taken me? How did you escape the tower?"
"So many questions!" he teased. Elizabeth blushed, but refused to be flustered by him.
"You must have first discovered him from your aunt," she said.
"I feared the worst when he did not show up to the duel. Instead of facing me himself, Wickham inevitably prefers to attack the innocent people closest to me. First Georgiana, then you..." Elizabeth exclaimed at this.
"Wickham was the one who attempted to ruin Georgiana!" Darcy nodded ruefully.
"I did not know where or whom he would strike this time. It was a suspenseful day, I can assure you. I called at your residence not too long after you had gone to pay my beloved aunt a visit, and panicked when nobody knew of your whereabouts. A search was made of your things, and the invitation for tea was found. From thence to my Aunt's, where she was discovered bound and gagged and furious with the entire world, including me. An urgent express came for me then. The note of ransom had been delivered by some bribed street urchin-as I had expected. After that, it was a matter of tracking down a few sources to discover where he had taken you. I shan't bore you with the details. I had already suspected he might come here, as it is a place where we played as children. My uncle's estate is not far, and this cabin belongs to him. Both Wickham and I know the area intimately. " He paused. Elizabeth wrapped the last of the bandage around his arm and tied it. When she had finished he thanked her and continued,
"As for escaping the tower, that was a stroke of luck. I managed to grab Wickham's arm as he came through the door. It was his intention to shoot me but I had placed myself strategically enough to prevent that. Unfortunately I could not prevent him from discharging some bullets into the room. One of them ricocheted across my arm causing this gash. Another bullet knocked loose some stones that were holding the place together. When it became clear that the tower was going to topple, all of Wickham's rabble hightailed it back down the stairwell. All except Wickham, who took courage at the sight of my wounded arm and decided he wanted to duel after all. So we fought ..."
Darcy shrugged and averted his gaze. "After that I launched myself out the window and down the rope, only hoping my weight wouldn't sway the tower to my side." He smiled.
"Luckily it chose to topple on the other side, allowing me to escape with almost everything intact, except for the gash on my arm you have so kindly bandaged."
"Did Wickham...?" Elizabeth could not finish the sentence.
"Wickham is dead," he said flatly. "He had already received mortal wounds when the tower began to topple." Elizabeth looked at him. He killed Wickham. She blanched at the immensity of the action, but after gazing at his face was filled with compassion for him. He had obviously found the necessity painful and did not wish to discuss it.
"Thank you for saving me," she said gently. She reached out and put her hand on his arm to comfort him. "It must have been a tremendous ordeal for you." He turned to her.
"First of all, it was no sacrifice." He looked pointedly at her and she blushed. "Second of all, it is I who owe you an apology." His tone became fierce. "I am sorry for the stupidity of my aunt, and I am sorry for not apprehending Wickham sooner. It is my fault this happened; I should have known he would attempt something. It is not the first time he has tried to hurt someone under my protection."
Elizabeth flinched at this. He still thinks of me as his employee. Very well, I will do well to remember my status too, and also my principles. She stood abruptly, turned her back and began to tidy the left-over bandages.
"You must not blame yourself for what has happened," she said. "Wickham's malice had made its mark upon my family long before I became acquainted with you. After assuring me that I would be drown in the Thames, he could not help informing me that he single-handedly ruined my father and absconded his estate and fortune."
"What!" Darcy leapt to his feet. "How is that possible?"
"My father was, although an intelligent man, not inclined to deal with the finances and operations of the estate. As he approached his death, all matters were increasingly turned over to his steward, a Mr. Trump, who was apparently in the services of Wickham. They were aided by Mr. Layton, whose real name is Fallworthy. Wickham himself, in the guise of a judge, declared my father officially bankrupt. I do not know or understand how they brought about the complete loss of estate and fortune, but I can tell you it was done swiftly and ruthlessly."
"I am shocked; shocked and angry," Darcy replied heatedly. "But surely there can be something done to investigate and right the matter?" Elizabeth shrugged helplessly.
"We cannot even afford a lawyer, let alone an investigation. The whole thing happened at the time of my father's funeral, and we were just a group of simple, grieving women who knew nothing of such matters. But let us not speak of it. I have long since accepted that it is beyond my control, and now Wickham is gone, we are safe and will soon return to our loved ones." An awkward silence ensued after this speech. Elizabeth sighed turned to walk back to her seat. As she did so, she stumbled and cried out in pain.
"What is it?" Darcy asked in alarm.
"Nothing, only my feet. I ran from the tower to where your horse was concealed without replacing my shoes. They must be scratched." Elizabeth pulled off first one shoe, then the other. A painful mess of scratches and cuts met her sight.
"Oh dear," she said.
"Now I shall have to play nurse," said Darcy, a hint of tease in his voice.
"Oh, no, I, they'll be fine until we get back..." Elizabeth faltered, and hid her feet beneath the chair. The last thing I need is him massaging my feet, she thought in desperation.
"Miss Bennet, I insist," he said firmly, and, Elizabeth thought with alarm, seductively. She sat primly in her chair as he prepared another basin of boiling water and admonished her beating heart not to be so foolish. As he pulled another near her and set the basin on the floor, she made yet another resolve to appear entirely unaffected by his touch. You are the governess, she scolded desperately. Nor will you ever be anything else, for it is certain he will not ask you to be his wife, and it is even more certain that you will NEVER consent to be his mistress. She was glad to see when he approached that he had donned his blood-stained shirt, although it lay partially open to his chest, thereby only partially concealing the chiseled muscle she now knew was beneath. He demanded her to lift one foot. As she silently lifted it, modestly keeping the height to a minimum, he placed one large, strong hand underneath her ankle.
Elizabeth's alarm increased. What kind of situation have I placed myself in? she panicked. Will I be able to maintain lady-like conduct that I abandoned so easily before? What kind of woman do I appear to him? Does he mean to give me an illicit offer? He does not seem that kind of man-but then, what do I know? His own aunt did not seem surprised at the possibility. And I have certainly not provided him with ample evidence to the contrary. Oh dear. She glanced at his curling dark head as he speculatively observed her foot.
"I did not mean that you had to keep your shoes off for the rest of the night, Elizabeth," he quipped. Elizabeth blushed.
"Putting my shoes and stockings on is not the first thing I think of when an armed band of robbers might start shooting at me from a falling tower," she said defensively. Darcy grinned at her.
"Touché." Elizabeth stared at him. She had rarely seen such a brilliant display of white teeth and dimples. Governess, governess, Elizabeth admonished herself. Her agitation increased. When Darcy touched the bottom of her foot with the hot rag, she jumped.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly.
"No, no, I was just ... surprised."
"Surprised?" he queried.
"I am not ... accustomed to being in such a situation," Elizabeth said, trying to keep the insecurity out of her voice. To her relief, he did not tease her on this point, only set the first foot down and asked for the other. He proceeded in silence, holding her firmly by the ankle and washing the cuts and scratches. An expression of seriousness descended upon his features. Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried not to think what a lady would do in this situation. She had no idea what to do when a partially undressed man sat washing her feet. However, her worry was for nothing; he conducted himself as a gentleman. When he had finished wrapping her feet in bandages he asked her if she would like any more refreshment. She replied that she would, and stood to get it herself.
"Please let me get it for you, Miss Bennet," he said politely.
"I am perfectly able to serve myself," she said firmly. Ignoring his amused glance, she made her somewhat awkward way to the table.
Darcy, however, was there before her, and lifting the loaf of bread provocatively away from her asked, "Do you always make things so difficult for the gentleman?" Elizabeth looked up at him defiantly.
"Must you always be in control of the situation?" Darcy snorted briefly, his mouth twitching.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked suddenly. His gaze held hers; she could not tear herself away from their intensity. "I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you..."
There was a brief silence. Elizabeth knew not how to respond. He closed the small distance between them. "You are irresistible ... everything about you is irresistible," he murmured. Elizabeth gasped. His words washed over her in exhilaration. When he had reached her he pulled her to him. "Elizabeth..." he whispered, his voice low with emotion. She closed her eyes, thrilling at his embrace. She felt his lips graze her cheek and slide lightly to the softness below her ear. "...don't make me live without you..." he whispered again. His lips ever so lightly traced her cheek, her temple, her forehead. Elizabeth thought she would faint. "...I love you..." At last his lips reached hers, and his mouth was gentle at first but became increasingly persuasive; Elizabeth sighed again at the pleasure his lips. She involuntarily slid her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His mouth and hands conveyed a longing that she responded to eagerly; she could not get enough of him. His mouth moved over hers again and again; Elizabeth was lost. She slid her hands in a caress from his neck to the warm skin of his hard chest.
She knew immediately that she should not have done it. His lips stopped abruptly and his mouth hovered over hers. His breathing was ragged. Elizabeth gasped for breath then pushed away from him, stumbling across the room to the opposite wall. After a few moments, in which they both made attempts to regain some composure, Elizabeth burst into tears.
"You see what I become when I am with you!" she cried in a strangled voice. "It is no wonder that all of London thinks I am your mistress-I don't behave as much better."
"Elizabeth, I am sorry," he cried, "I know I should not have done that, indeed, I had resolved not to, it's just that..." he stopped in frustration and ran his hands through his thick hair.
"Why did you kiss me?" Elizabeth whispered, turning her tear-filled eyes on him. "You knew from that night in the library that I would not resist ... why do you persist in proving my easiness? You make no offer for me, not even as a mistress ... perhaps you think of me as an already sufficiently paid employee." Elizabeth stopped briefly to wipe the hot tears from her cheeks. Darcy stared at her as if she had struck him.
"Is that what you think?" he finally said. "That you are nothing more to me than a paid ...employee? That I have paid for your services and now expect this?" Elizabeth was shocked at the pain she saw in his eyes and the hurt in his voice. She turned her head away and said,
"It is nothing more than what all of London, including your relatives, believe." Darcy seethed.
"What did my aunt say to you?"
"Your aunt says what the whole world says, that I am nothing more than a ... harlot." Elizabeth voice was strangled with emotion and shame. Darcy stood shocked, not knowing how to respond. He took a step towards her but stopped when she recoiled from him.
"And is that what you think my opinion is of you?" he asked quietly. "That my intentions toward you have been completely dishonourable?"
"I do not know," wept Elizabeth. "I truly wished to believe you were a man of principle, but with all your attentions to me, which were confusing enough, you made it clear that I would never be suitable as your wife, that the idea was reprehensible to you."
"Even when you offered at Pemberley, I knew it was not what you truly wished for, that you only acted out of concern for my feelings. I could not infer from it that you were above having a mistress. Your guests at Pemberley were certainly eager to believe it, as well as your aunt, as well as the entire assembly in London! And Mr. Wickham, you has known you since childhood, accepted it without question. How was I to know what your intentions were? For in all the declarations of love you have made to me, you have not once mentioned marriage."
"Mr. Darcy, perhaps all of London thinks of me as a fallen woman, but that is not reason enough for me to abandon my morals. I know I am not suitable to be your wife, now more than ever. But let me assure you, sir, I will never enter into a union with any man that is short of matrimony."
Darcy closed his eyes briefly, his face etched in pain.
"I can see I have not deserved you," he said simply.
Elizabeth was silent. Is that all he is going to say? She thought. She took a deep breath to calm her emotion. She heard Darcy approach and turned away. There was nothing more to be said, she knew that now. However, he simply touched her shoulder lightly and offered her a handkerchief. She accepted without a word and allowed him to lead her to the chair. He wrapped her now dry cloak around her and after inquiring gently after her comfort, strode quietly to the door. Upon opening it, the cessation of the rain was revealed.
"We should ride now," he said. "My uncle's estate is not five miles from here. I will leave you to your preparation while I care for the horse." Elizabeth nodded and began to gather her things. Within ten minutes they were saddled and trotting lightly through the dripping forest. Heavy clouds passed overhead and Elizabeth wondered if it would rain again. She sat side-saddle, with Darcy behind her. They did not speak as he carefully guided the horse through the undergrowth. At last they reached the riverbank, which was more open. Darcy spurred the horse into a faster pace.
"It is only two miles from here," he said briefly. "Are you quite comfortable?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied. So I was right all along, she thought. He truly did not have any intention of marrying me. She felt rather numb all over. He will see me safely home, and it will be over. I will never see him again. The pain this generated in her breast threatened to overcome her again. She took a deep breath, willing the tears away. For some inexplicable reason, her aching heart took comfort in the warmth of his strong arm wrapped around her. She knew it was the last time he would ever hold her. And yet, I have done the right thing. I can live with myself, even if it means living without him. This also eased the ache somewhat. She knew there was no alternative, and she felt a burden of her conscience had been lifted.
The path had broadened now and the woods began to look more civilized. She suspected they had entered the borders of the estate. Before she could enquire, however, a streak of lightning was seen, followed immediately by a loud rumble of thunder.
"Blast!" muttered Darcy. He dug his heels into the stallion and they raced down the widening path. The heavens darkened and within seconds the rain was coming down in sheets. Elizabeth repeatedly pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, but relinquished the idea after the wind had blown it off four times. It was only a matter of seconds before they were successfully drenched. The large house had come into view, for which Elizabeth was glad. She had rather had her fill of riding wet with Darcy. Apparently his mind had taken a similar turn, for as they reached the courtyard and he helped her dismount, he said wryly,
"You seem to have a penchant for this sort of thing." Elizabeth smiled briefly as he set her down, but upon seeing the sadness in his eyes that mirrored her own, did not feel like making a retort. A stable hand quickly appeared and took the reins of the horse.
"Good day, Mr. Darcy, sir!" he called through the rain. Darcy greeted him and led Elizabeth by the hand to the massive front door.
"My Aunt and Uncle Matlock reside here," he explained as the door opened for them. "They are Colonel Fitzwilliam's parents."
"Ah," replied Elizabeth. She lifted her head to examine the ornate white ceiling high over her head and the marble stairs leading to an impressive balcony. Darcy was still holding her hand as they stood in the entrance, water streaming off them into puddles on the floor.
"If you please sir, I will notify the master at once that you are here," said the white-haired butler in an impeccably unemotional voice.
"Thank you." Darcy turned to her. Heavy footsteps were heard above, and an elderly gentleman who looked much like Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared on the landing.
"Darcy!" he said, his jaw dropping in astonishment, his eyes darting between his nephew and the young woman standing next to him. Elizabeth had withdrawn her hand from Darcy's and was attempting to smooth her soaked, dirty dress. Her hair she knew was a lost cause. She had only quickly pinned it up when they left the cabin, and it was now half-pinned, half-tumbling in a wet mass over her shoulders.
"Fitzwilliam!" A woman's voice echoed through the room, and Elizabeth cringed as Lady Matlock made her way down the marble staircase after her husband. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Is everything all right?"
"I assure you, it can all be explained later," Darcy replied reassuringly, although with a touch of weariness. "Aunt, Uncle, allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Lord and Lady Matlock." Lord and Lady Matlock offered their greetings politely, albeit with a great deal of astonishment.
"You are Georgiana's governess, are you not?" Lord Matlock inquired brusquely, his eyes registering the young woman before him, who, although wet and dirty, was undeniably very beautiful. Elizabeth inclined her head in embarrassed acknowledgement. Lord Matlock continued to glance suspiciously between Darcy and the young woman.
"Never mind, Henry," Lady Matlock scolded. "Can't you see they are going to catch pneumonia if they continue to stand here? Miss Bennet is positively shivering with cold!" She turned as another woman entered. "Ah, there you are Mrs. Turner! Please have some warm towels brought and rooms readied with hot baths!"
"Yes, your ladyship, right away," Mrs. Turner replied, and disappeared again. In no time more servants arrived on the scene. As Elizabeth and Darcy's coats were removed Lady Matlock gasped to see the blood stains on Darcy's shirt.
"Good heavens, Darcy, what have you done!" exclaimed his uncle.
"Please do not fret, Aunt," Darcy said quickly, glancing at his aunt, whose face had visibly paled. "I assure you it is far worse than it looks, and has already been cleaned and bandaged." Lady Matlock quickly recovered herself.
"Henry, have the physician called at once. Come, you two, I will not have you in these wet clothes a moment longer," ordered Lady Matlock and ushered them up the stairs.
Chapter 20 Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Elizabeth sighed as she sank into the hot bath. She had been shown into a very elegant chamber and was now soaking in a steaming porcelain tub. It was nice to be surrounded by luxury again, she had to admit. She had not been sure whether she would be shown to some neglected old room or stuck in the servants' quarters-neither would have surprised her. She thought vaguely that these relatives of Mr. Darcy's seemed to have better breeding than Lady Catharine. Not that it would be hard to have better breeding than someone who called you a harlot and had you kidnapped, Elizabeth thought wryly. She laid her head back and revelled in the hot, fragrant water. It warmed her chilled body and relaxed her. She felt safer than she had for a long time. A lady's maid helped her wash her hair, and after a hot breakfast, she finally collapsed into the huge featherbed and fell into a deep slumber.
When she awoke it was late afternoon. She walked to the window and gazed out over the perfectly manicured gardens below. A maid knocked and entered.
"Excuse me, miss, but her ladyship bids me ask once you are awake if you feel sufficiently well to take tea with her."
"Certainly," Elizabeth replied. She hoped that tea with this aunt would turn out better than it had with the last. The maid left to relay the message and then returned to help her dress. Elizabeth's gown had been cleaned and mended. After the maid had carefully coiffed her hair, she wrapped a shawl, 'provided by her ladyship' over her shoulders and led her to Lady Matlock's sitting room.
"Ah, Miss Bennet, there you are," Lady Matlock called as she entered. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"
"Yes, very well, thank you," Elizabeth responded, surprised at the kind reception.
"Please take a seat, Miss Bennet. I have had a little luncheon made up for you. You must be starving after the ordeal you have been through."
"Mr. Darcy informed you of it, then?" Elizabeth said doubtfully as she took her seat. She wondered how much he had actually revealed.
"I know the whole story, my dear, how that villain Mr. Wickham accosted you at the ball, then kidnapped you and attempted to murder both of you!" Lady Matlock shuddered. "I tremble to think what might have happened! Fitzwilliam can be so obstinate, especially concerning Wickham. But it has turned out all right at last. Here, my dear, try one of these scones, they are delicious!" She handed Elizabeth a plate of scones and then continued.
"I, for one, am relieved that Wickham is dead. You can have no idea how he has plagued our family, and particularly Darcy! Perhaps it is unchristian of me, but I cannot help it. My husband agrees with me wholeheartedly. My poor Henry was so angry when Fitzwilliam told us, I thought he would take off after Wickham's accomplices himself! Fortunately, our son Richard was privy to the whole affair, and had remained in London to search for Wickham if he was not to be found at the ruins."
"Has anything been discovered as to their whereabouts?" asked Elizabeth anxiously. "Can you tell me how many there were involved?"
"I do not know, my dear. Fitzwilliam estimated there were at least five others, but he could not be sure." Lady Matlock looked at the young woman before her in sympathy. "I understand Wickham has already played a role in your family. I am very sorry, Miss Bennet. It seems his wickedness has extended to all of us." Elizabeth, although surprised that Darcy had related the cause of her family's demise to his relatives, was touched by the sincerity of Lady Matlock's sympathy.
"Thank you, Lady Matlock. Your sympathy is much appreciated. I must also thank you for your kindness and hospitality."
"Oh, say nothing of it," waved Lady Matlock. "I felt it is my duty to make up, at least in part, for the atrocious behaviour of Lady Catharine! I will not have you believing that all of Darcy's relatives are so ill-behaved! And let me assure you, Lady Catharine de Bourgh is no relative of mine!" Elizabeth smiled at her adamance.
"How is Lady Catharine?" she asked. "I hope no harm came to her."
"Oh, she is unharmed, except for her pride, which has hopefully been materially wounded, and of course her purse is 10, 000 pounds lighter. It serves her right! I hope they never find the money. I do not know what the woman could have been thinking!" Elizabeth suddenly wished to divert the conversation and so asked whether Georgiana was feeling better.
"Yes, I believe she is much better, although Richard mentioned that she was overwrought with concern for her beloved governess." Lady Matlock smiled knowingly at Elizabeth. "It seems you have wound yourself into the hearts of that family." Elizabeth blushed.
"Lady Matlock, I thank you again for your generosity, and I hope you will not consider me ungrateful if I say that I am very anxious to return to my family in London. My sisters must be beside themselves with worry."
"I am sure you are, dear. Do not worry about your sisters; they should know by now that you are safe. My husband will escort you himself to London tomorrow morning. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, but I do not think it wise to travel immediately, for it is half a day's journey by carriage to London, that would be too much after the strain you have been through."
"Was an express sent to London this morning?" asked Elizabeth, wondering how her family could already be aware of her safety.
"No, Fitzwilliam left this morning. Knowing the way he rides, he should be there already to inform them himself."
"Mr. Darcy has gone to London?" Elizabeth was astonished.
"Yes, he was gone within an hour of having arrived here. I tried to persuade him to stay and get some rest, but he would not heed me." Lady Matlock sighed. "He really can be so obstinate. He seemed to think there was urgent business to attend to." Elizabeth paled. He obviously wished to avoid seeing me again, she thought.
"Lady Matlock, thank you once again for the lovely meal. I find I have a bit of a headache. I hope you do not mind if I retire for a moment."
"Certainly, my dear. Shall I have you called for supper, or would you prefer to eat in your room?"
"I would be delighted to join you," Elizabeth said. "Thank you, you Ladyship." She curtsied and left for her room.
Supper that night was, much to her surprise, truly a delight rather than an ordeal. Lord Matlock, once Darcy had made him aware of how she had suffered at the hands of Wickham, adored her at once. He adopted a protective, almost deferential treatment of her that equaled his hatred of Wickham. Gone were all suspicious glances or aspersions to the fact that she had been a governess; nothing that Miss Bennet said was not delightful. He was a gruff man, and inclined to state his opinions strongly. Lady Matlock, easily exasperated by her husband, was nevertheless equally attentive to the beautiful Miss Bennet, constantly seeking to gratify her in some way. Elizabeth liked them both immensely, and thought it a shame that she would never be in their company again. She was glad that Lord Matlock would be escorting her back to London rather than Darcy. She did not think she could have borne half a day's journey in his silent company.
Chapter 21 Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Elizabeth had scarcely made it out of the carriage the next day when Jane, who had spied them from an upper window, met her. The two embraced through tears of gratitude.
"Thank God you're alive, Lizzy," Jane whispered into her ear as she held her tightly. She pulled back to gaze tenderly at her sister. "Mr. Darcy informed us you would be coming today, and I have been watching impatiently from the upper window. What you must have been through!"
"But it is over now, dearest Jane, and I hope that I will never again be separated from you! I have things of such importance to relate to you!"
"If you mean the role Wickham played in our family's loss of fortune, I already know. Mr. Darcy informed us of it yesterday. But Lizzy, perhaps Lord Matlock would like some refreshment?" Elizabeth started and turned apologetically to the older gentleman, who had been standing discreetly to the side. After the proper introductions had been made, Lord Matlock declined the invitation, saying he preferred to go immediately to his town house. Jane and Elizabeth walked slowly to the house as his carriage pulled away.
"What else did Mr. Darcy say when he was here?" Elizabeth asked earnestly.
"His visit was short, to say the least. He stayed long enough to briefly explain the events of the day, and then assured us of your safety and your expected return. He did make some inquiries as to the details of Papa's estate, which he said would help him track down Wickham's other accomplices. But Lizzy, he seems a perfect gentleman. Although his presence is somewhat intimidating, he informed us of the events with the greatest sensitivity and compassion. I feel he is a good man!"
"He is a good man, Jane. I have witnessed his charity and compassion to his sister, his staff, and to myself many times. But he did not love me enough to marry me."
"Did you speak of it then?" cried Jane.
"He did make another declaration of love, but the only mention of matrimony was made by myself. I made my opinion concerning any other arrangement very clear, and after that he had nothing to say." Elizabeth smiled sadly. "It is asking a lot of a man's affection to align himself with a woman who has neither fortune, connections, or reputation."
"Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry!" Another tear escaped down Jane's sympathetic face. "I had such great hopes! It seems we must both be disappointed in love."
"Not Mr. Bingley as well?"
"I am afraid so. That is, I am not exactly certain of his feelings, but after the ball it seems Miss Bingley made quite a fuss over the matter-this is all Mrs. Jennings information." Jane gave Lizzy a knowing glance. "When he called yesterday at teatime he did not stay long. He was not precisely cold, but he seemed confused and ... withdrawn," she sighed. "I do not know what will happen, Lizzy, but like you I am disinclined to wait here in suspense until he decides upon the strength of his feelings. What do you think of departing for home as soon as possible? Mrs. Jennings is willing."
"I confess the thought of remaining in London is as appealing to me as staying in a den of lions! I have lost my taste for society, to say the least," Elizabeth responded.
"Good, then, let us inform Kitty and Mrs. Jennings! They do not yet know you are here and will be anxious to see you!"
The removal from London to Middlesex took less than three days. Elizabeth had taken leave of Georgiana before their departure. She was careful to go when Darcy was not at home. The two had parted with many tears, but with as many promises to write and keep the acquaintance. It was with great relief that Elizabeth finally arrived at the cottage in Middlesex. She had not seen her mother or sisters for quite some time, and found she had missed them and the simplicity of their family life. She felt that the solitude of the country would allow her the peace to reflect on the feelings in her heart and come to terms with all that had transpired. As the family settled back into the routine of late summer, she found that, while she was not happy, her suffering was not so acute that she could not make it from one day to the next, and then from one week to the next. She took great comfort in having Jane close to her, but even Jane could not understand the places in her heart that were most tender.
Her other source of comfort and healing were long walks in the countryside. She would take the letters she received from Georgiana and pore over them, unable to keep herself from treasuring every mention of his name, for searching Georgiana's words for anything that might reveal his activities or the details of his life. She had resigned herself to loving him-even without hope. He was constantly in her thoughts. Not a word or a look they had ever shared was forgotten. She was unable to dwell on their more intimate moments; she found it too painful. She had moments, too, when the ache to feel his arms around her, to have him whisper that he loved her was so strong it caused her physical pain. She found the greatest comfort at these times was to remember what she would have had to sacrifice to be with him, and to remember that even if he had married her, she would have lived all her life knowing he had not really wished it, and would have preferred another arrangement. She knew she had done the right thing, that there had been no other way. He had loved her, yes, but not enough. And so she lived from day to day, still loving him, knowing that she always would, even when he belonged to another and she was living out her days in spinsterhood.
They did receive word, in two months time, that the other members of Wickham's conspiracy had been found, tried and sentenced to prison. Lady Catharine's ransom money had not been found, and while she had not been convicted of anything, it was rumoured she had left her London home and taken up residence in Scotland. The messenger who relayed the message did mention that the whole affair of discovering the whereabouts of the ruffians had been instigated and carried out in large part by Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth wanted to believe that he had done it in part for her, that perhaps it was proof that he had not forgotten her too quickly, that maybe he still loved her a little. However, she knew that his motivation for discovering Wickham's accomplices could have come from many sources. Georgiana's letters seemed to imply that he spent a great deal of time in London now, and that he was heavily involved with his business matters. Elizabeth dreaded that each letter she got would relate his engagement to another woman. That was one inevitable event of which she could not think with equanimity.
The end of September came, and with it cooler days and nights. Elizabeth and her sisters had been occupied with harvesting the small garden they kept in preparation for winter. Elizabeth had a letter from Georgiana in her pocket that she had been itching to read all day, but had been unable to. At last the end of the beans had been picked and Elizabeth took the opportunity to slip away for one of her much-loved walks. A lively autumn breeze waved the long grass on the hills and scurried clouds across the sky. The trees had begun to turn yellow and red, touching the countryside with tinges of colour. Elizabeth had always loved and hated this season as a child; loved it for its beauty and the promise of change, and hated it for the end of lost summer. As she made her way over the green hills, the same nostalgic feeling of her childhood overcame her again. She stopped next to a lone tree overlooking the valley and gazed out over the countryside.
She was so lost in her thoughts, the sound of hoofbeats did not immediately register. It was only when they were quite close that she turned around in annoyance to see who was interrupting her solitude. She started; blinked; then shook her head in disbelief. It could not be him-but as the rider crested the hill, she saw that it was indeed Darcy, and he was riding directly toward her. She experienced the same mixture of exhilaration and fear that she had used to feel every time he came into the room. When she turned as if looking for a way to escape, he called her name. She waited as the galloping hoof beats drew near, and attempted to calm her beating heart, although she had no real hope of hiding her emotion. When at last he had arrived, he dismounted and walked until he stood in front of her.
"Mr. Darcy," she breathed, only able to look at him for a brief moment. He is looking as tall and handsome as ever, she thought. This did not increase her confidence. She was breathing very quickly and a pretty blush overspread her features.
"Miss Bennet," he said, his accents betraying his own lack of composure. He stood before her as if hesitant on how he should continue. She looked away, unable to say anything, embarrassed. For a moment neither spoke.
"Miss Bennet-" Darcy grasped her hand in a sudden burst of emotion and brought it to his lips. Elizabeth gasped and coloured. "Elizabeth," he commenced with feeling, gazing earnestly at her, "I will not trifle with you any longer. I know nothing I can do could make me worthy of you, sweetest, loveliest of creatures! Please forgive me for leaving you without a word. I have here the deed for your family's estate," he handed her a parchment. "The majority of your family's fortune has been recovered and is currently being held in London." Elizabeth gazed at him, wide-eyed, confused.
"But how did you...?" He shook his head impatiently.
"It is a long story. Suffice it to say it has taken the great part of two months, which is why I have not come to you sooner. I felt I could not offer for you until I had done something to prove to you that I had endeavoured, albeit unsuccessfully, to become worthy of your love. I know now that to deserve you is impossible, but let me assure you that my love for you has not lessened! Indeed, everyday without you is torture! I love you, Elizabeth! There is not a part of me that does not yearn for you! Please relieve me of this misery!" He grasped both her hands and looked desperately into her eyes. "Please tell me you could love me!" Elizabeth was so moved she could scarcely speak.
"Mr. Darcy," she said at last, as a tear rolled down her cheek, "I have never ceased to love you. How can you doubt it? I have loved you almost from the beginning. But my resolve has not changed! I can never live in an arrangement other than matrimony! Please do not ask me!" The tears came unbidden now, streaming in rivers from her beautiful eyes. Darcy started, then gave a relieved little laugh.
"Forgive me, my darling, for making the same mistakes repeatedly! Let me make this clear once and for all. I have never entertained thoughts of engaging you as a mistress! I am sorry for leading you to the conclusion! The idea was so foreign and preposterous to me, that even with all the rumours circulating and your sweet reminders, I paid little attention. How can a man profess love for a woman and then submit her to all manner of degradation? No, I have only ever wanted you in the holy bonds of matrimony." He dropped to one knee, and still holding one hand, continued,
"Elizabeth, will you do the honour of being my wife?" Throughout this speech a bubble of warmth and hope had been building within Elizabeth's soul, and at the question it burst within her in an outpouring of joy.
"Yes!" she cried. "Yes!" she said again, unable to utter anything else. She threw her arms about him, and he caught her, lifting her as he stood. They stood in the embrace for a long while, each savouring the closeness of the other; each overwhelmed with joy, gratitude, and the release of months of uncertainty and longing.
At last Darcy pulled his head away and, gazing tenderly at her, tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Now I will be able to get to the bottom of that imp in the corner of your eye," he said tenderly.
"The imp?" asked Elizabeth in confusion.
"And I of course will expect you to sing for me as often and as long as I wish."
"Making demands already, are we Mr. Darcy?"
"Aha! There it is!"
"What?"
"The imp." Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. Darcy's eyes dropped to her lips. He kissed her then, tenderly but chastely. When he lifted his head, Elizabeth looked up adoringly into his eyes and saw there the promise of all his love.
"Let us go to your mother," he said simply.
Chapter 22 Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Two weeks after the Bennet family had been re-established in their home in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth and Darcy wed in the small chapel near Longbourn. The announcement of their engagement had come as a surprise and a delight to almost everyone. Suffice it to say, the joy of Mrs. Bennet upon the news of her daughter's engagement in combination with the deed to Longbourn had been enough to put her in vapours for almost two weeks. The majority of the fortune had indeed been recovered, for it was discovered that although Wickham had been one of the worst thieves the country had ever known, he had also been penurious and had possessed an obsessive compulsion to save the money he stole. Reserves of embezzled money were discovered in secret bank accounts throughout England and as far away as France and Switzerland.
The restoration of the Bennets' fortune and social standing in combination with Elizabeth's engagement to Darcy was enough to wipe out almost completely any of the previous rumours that Elizabeth had been his mistress. To her surprise, Elizabeth found herself courted by the most illustrious people in England as the ton vied for the approval of the Miss Bennet, soon to be the Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth was not sure which she disliked more, the defamation or approbation of the ton.
Jane and Mr. Bingley found themselves thrown into company now quite frequently, and it was soon obvious that he was as much in love with her as ever. The confusion of their separation was soon discovered to have been a result of misunderstanding. Mr. Bingley assured Jane that his withdrawal had been due not to the rumours circulating, as she had suspected, but rather to Caroline's avowal that Jane did not care for him. He had not intended to stop courting her, but had determined to find out if the strength of Jane's attachment matched his own. Naturally, he assumed that Jane's sudden removal from London without a word was a confirmation of his worst fears, and so he had not pursued her. However, Mr. Bingley's being constantly thrown in the company of his most divine angel was too much for him, and he was finally compelled to unburden his feelings to Jane. Their engagement was announced two weeks following Elizabeth and Darcy's wedding. Miss Bingley now found herself pleased with the arrangement, although her reasons were never fully stipulated. Jane's warm heart forgave Miss Bingley of all the pain she had occasioned, and while she could not live with her, she nonetheless accepted her as a sister and valued member of the family circle.
Georgiana was thrilled at having her former governess, dearest friend, and now sister, restored to her in such a permanent way. With the establishment of Darcy and Elizabeth at Pemberley and under Elizabeth's continued guidance, she developed into a beautiful and confident young woman, although, much to Elizabeth's consternation, with a mischievous knack for match-making. The rest of Darcy's relatives welcomed Elizabeth enthusiastically. Lord and Lady Matlock were especially delighted with the match, as it had been what they were hoping for all along. They proceeded to unofficially adopt Elizabeth as if she was their own daughter, and continued an unstated competition for her affection for many months. Colonel Fitzwilliam was among those to know of the engagement first; and it would be untrue to say that he did not enjoy a few jokes at Darcy's expense, which Darcy bore amiably. The Darcy's received a Christmas card once yearly from Lady Catharine, but could never convince her to leave her residence in Scotland and visit them in person.
Elizabeth and Darcy were uniformly acknowledged to be the most envied couple in England. It was true they made a strikingly beautiful couple and there were not many heads that did not turn when they were announced at an assembly or were seen strolling arm in arm through the park. It was rumoured that Darcy spent scandalous amounts of money on his wife and showered her with the most extravagant of gifts, and that he would make his wife sing for him twice a day. However, most envied was the mutual adoration the two were unable to conceal from the world. Although the signs of their affection were never overt, anyone who saw the way Darcy looked at his wife, or the way her beautiful eyes lit up whenever her husband walked into the room could be in no doubt of the affection and love that blessed their union.
Epilgue Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005
Elizabeth sighed and smiled to herself as she brushed through her golden curls. It was still morning, but she had slept late. Darcy had been up early to see to some business with his tenants and so she found herself alone in the morning; a rare occurrence since their wedding day almost a year earlier. Elizabeth examined her reflection in the mirror. Although her beauty had always been indisputable, marriage had managed to magnify her natural charms further. There was a glow of luminescence about her and an endearing flush of rose in her cheeks. Happiness radiated constantly from her eyes. Yes, she was looking well, as she well knew, and her husband was also well aware. Darcy was not one to let his appreciation go unexpressed. Elizabeth was at times astonished by her happiness. The pain of the year preceding their marriage made it all the more cherished. She wondered sometimes if she was living in a dream, so much light and happiness filled her. She placed her hand on the small swelling beginning to show beneath her white chemise and smiled at yet another blessing to add to her over-flowing cup.
A knock at the door broke through her reveries. She turned to see Darcy enter. He smiled at her as he approached and kissed her lips.
"Good morning, sweet wife," he murmured.
"Good morning, darling. You were up early today."
"I've brought you something." Elizabeth smiled. She loved his gifts. She had at first been rather dismayed by the money he spent on her, and had asked him not to. She thought back to the first time he had visited at Longbourn and had given her a gorgeous diamond and emerald necklace. She knew it must have cost a small fortune. She had been shocked and declared she could not accept it. However, he had been very persuasive.
"Please allow me to indulge you," he had said, and begun placing small kisses on her hand and the inside of her palm and wrist. "Perhaps you are right that it is a weakness, but it gives me such pleasure. Do not deny me this luxury. Please" He had placed kisses on her until she relented. It had not taken long.
Elizabeth now smiled up at her husband and took his hand. "What have you brought me?" she asked in anticipation as he sat opposite her on the small bench. What she loved more than the gift was the look of pleasure that would gleam in Darcy's eyes when she was delighted with it. Darcy withdrew his hand from behind his back to reveal a single white rose. Elizabeth exclaimed in delight and took it, breathing in the heady perfume that emanated from the abundance of velvety white petals.
"Where did you find this, Fitzwilliam?" she asked, smiling, although she already guessed the answer.
"There is a little spot in the woods, adjacent to a meadow and across the stream where a rose bush grows. I think you are already intimately acquainted with the spot." Elizabeth laughed. How she loved the tease in his eyes!
"Yes, we are good friends, that spot and I." She gave a low chuckle. "Do you recall the lecture you gave to me about it?"
"You mean the one in which I admonished you to count every cost, every sacrifice, and every inconvenience before recklessly pursuing the desired object?" he murmured as he began tracing his lips along the back of her neck. "I think I told you to write it down. Did you?" Elizabeth laughed.
"No, I did not. However, it seems that events have proven that you are not one to follow your own advice, Mr. Darcy. In fact, it seems that you have done quite the opposite." She closed her eyes as his lips caressed her neck and shoulders. She had yet to become inured to his touch.
"Mmm. And it was worth it." He brought his head up to look at her.
"Was it?" she whispered.
"That's a resounding yes," he whispered back before lowering his head to kiss her thoroughly.