Section I, Next Section
Part One Posted on Thursday, 19 August 1999
Peter Darcy took the steps up to his father's study two at a time. Mrs. Reynolds had told him his father had wanted to see him immediately and Peter knew from experience that meant right away. He did not bother to knock on the large oak door, he just swung it open and stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was his mother's apologetic face. The second thing he noticed was his father's look. It was of pure remorse. Fitzwilliam Darcy motioned his son forward.
What have I done? he wondered to himself. Surely his parents hadn't found out about the whole bottle of brandy he and his younger brother, Jonathan, had drunk. If they had, his mother would be extremely angry. Yet, she did not look mad at him.
"Father? Is there a problem?" he asked.
"No, son." he pointed to the chair across from his desk.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, although fifty two, looked not a day over thirty five. He was still as handsome and fit as he was the day he met Peter's mother. Elizabeth Darcy was still a beautiful woman, although she had a more motherly look to her. It was obvious that both their youths were gone, but their love was still as strong as the day that had gotten married.
"Peter, I have done something that...that I'm not proud of. I--" he stopped and looked up at his wife, "Elizabeth, please. I cannot bring myself to say it."
His eyes were full of utter sorrow and Peter had never seen a bigger frown on his father's face, even when he was punishing. Elizabeth patted his shoulder and turned her face to her oldest son.
"I believe your father means to say that he is very sorry, but before you jump to conclusions, hear him out. I was angry at first, too, but now I think it might actually be good for you."
"Mother, father, I have no idea what you are talking about." Peter laughed.
His father handed him a paper from his desk, never looking him in the face. Peter took it from him and looked down. There were just a jumble of words to him.
"What is this? Who is George King?" Peter wondered. He had never heard his father mention him before. He did think he remembered hearing his name a few years back, when he was a boy.
"You don't know him, at least not directly. You will soon know him very well." Darcy told him, finally looking his son in the eyes.
"How? Is he coming for a visit?" Peter asked, in complete confusion.
"No...Peter I do not know how to put this gently, so I'm just going to say it bluntly." Fitzwilliam Darcy took a deep breath and looked at his son levelly, "He's going to be your father-in-law. You are going to marry his daughter."
Chapter 2 Posted on Saturday, 25 September 1999
Peter thought he had heard his father wrong.
"Did I just hear you right, father?" he asked. "You arranged a marriage for me?"
Darcy nodded his head slowly and painfully. Peter, who had quite a bit of a temper, felt his anger rise. Peter was one who happened to like control. He hated, completely hated, when something was happening he could not stop.
"Weren't you the one who always talked about having the freedom in marriage? Weren't you the one who always told me your life was almost ruined by an arranged marriage?" he asked, his voice escalating to a shout.
Elizabeth noticed the flare in his temper, a deadly combination of both his mother's and his father's stubborn temperament. Standing up, she tried to placate him.
"Peter, please sit down." she coaxed him into the leather chair. "If you really think about it, it is not the worst situation."
"Really mother, and how is that?" he asked sullenly, crossing his arms across his chest.
"You are twenty three, Peter and you have given absolutely no thought to taking a bride." she pointed out.
"Mother, I did that purposely. You know how I feel about women in general. They frankly annoy me." he then glanced up and saw his mother's expression, "Of course, only certain ones."
"That is besides the point. I am sure she will make a fine wife. Susannah King was a wonderful woman. She was nice and caring. She was quite pretty too, I believe. It can only be assumed her daughter is much like her."
"But what if she's not?" he whined.
He should have known better. After all, he had lived in the same house as his mother for his whole life. Elizabeth Darcy could not stand whiners.
"Peter Fitzwilliam Darcy!" Elizabeth bristled, "I understand you are not happy with this situation. The truth is, you must take it in stride. You have not even met this poor girl and here you are practically insulting her. I will not stand for it!"
Peter sighed deeply and turned to look at his father who had been strangely silent throughout the whole conversation.
"How in the hell did this happen and why wasn't I told about it sooner?" he asked.
"Watch your mouth in front of your mother, young man." His father said sternly. "It happened a while ago, I believe you were three or four."
He stopped. Peter raised an eyebrow and pressed his father to go on.
"I was drunk." Darcy said, not able to look his son in the eye. He knew Peter would blow up and was just waiting.
"What? My whole entire future has been decided because my father was drunk?"
"It is not how it seems!" Darcy said, trying to keep his son's voice down. "The King's were visiting us and Mrs. King was in her sixth month. While they were here, she happened to go into labor. Well, of course because it was so early we did not expect the baby--or perhaps even the mother--to live through the birthing.
"George was so distraught and he just kept pacing. I was afraid he would do harm to himself, so I got him to drink."
"That does not explain why you were drunk!"
"I am getting to that, son! George was not a drinking man. The only time he would was when other people were, so naturally I drank with him."
"Oh, naturally." Peter sneered, then stopped by the horrible look his father gave him.
"It ended up that I drank more than him. Somehow through all of this, we made up this agreement and signed it. I never heard of him after that night. His daughter miraculously lived and that is who you are betrothed to."
Peter, after hearing all this, was still angry, but it had receded a little. He rubbed his temple because he felt a horrible headache coming. His father continued on.
"Just today I received the King's copy of the agreement. She is of age now, and it is time you meet her. You must be married before your twenty fourth birthday."
"When do I have to go fetch her?" he grumbled.
"Uh...today." Darcy said, turning red with embarrassment again.
Peter pursed his lips and then nodded slowly. There was some way out of this mess, surely. He would go to the King House today and meet the girl. Most likely she did not like this arrangement any better than he did. It would probably be resolved at sundown.
"I suppose I better be on my way then." he said cheerfully.
If his parents were surprised in his sudden change of attitude, they did not show it. His father handed him a slip of paper.
"That is he address." he told him.
Just before Peter left the room, his father called him back in.
"I just...I just...I cannot say that I am sorry enough, but I truly am."
"That's all right, father. I am sure everything will be...solved quickly." Peter smiled and was out the door.
After listening to her son's feet pound down the stairs, Elizabeth to her husband and put her arms around him.
"That boy thinks he can get out of this just like everything else he does." she said slowly.
"I only hope, for his sake, he can."
Part Three Posted on Sunday, 3 October 1999
Peter Darcy blew out a breath and rubbed his throbbing temples. Whenever he had a headache, the ride just happened to be incredibly bumpy. When he looked out the window, he realized the weather was exactly like his mood--dark, brooding, and raining.
At last, the carriage stopped. When he saw the house, he was pleasantly surprised. It was quite large and seemed to be very elegant. He stepped out of the carriage and turned to his driver.
"If I have my way, this will only take five minutes." he told him.
The driver smiled. "Knowing you, I'll bet on three minutes."
Peter turned on his heel and raced to the door, trying to keep out of the rain. He didn't want to take the girl with him, but he did want to look at least presentable. He knocked loudly on the door, and waited, rubbing his cold hands together.
The door opened in a few moments. The butler let him in out of the rain.
"Good day, my good man. I need to see King." Peter told the butler.
"Then I'd say this is the wrong part of England, young man."
"No, not..."Peter stopped, and then continued, "I need to speak with Mr. King."
The butler looked confused. "There is not a Mr. King here. This is the Tate residence."
As he was saying this, an elderly woman walked behind the butler.
"You are sure there is no King here?" Peter asked again, looking at the paper with the address on it. His driver had never before gotten an address wrong and he was extremely reliable.
"Excuse me, sir. There is a Sydney King here." the woman broke in.
"That could be whom I'm looking for. Is she a girl about my age?" he asked.
"Yes, she's a girl. I don't right know her age, but I can get her for you." she turned to the butler, "Since the Mister and Missus are gone for the day, I'll take him into the parlor."
The butler nodded and the woman showed him into an elegant sitting room. He heard a sharp and ugly sounding cough and noticed a small urchin cleaning the huge staircase. She looked almost deathly ill and he almost wanted to take the brush from her hand and finish them himself.
"I'm in charge of Sydney and before I get her for you, I think I should find out what you want with her," the lady told him quietly, turning his attention back to her.
He pulled out the agreement and gave it to the lady.
"I'm supposed to marry the girl. It's law binding." he shrugged.
He could have told her that he didn't think they would have to go through with anything, but he might as well take a look at the maiden. He might change his mind then.
"Oh my." the lady said, looking quickly at the maid cleaning the steps. "Are you sure the lady is Sydney King?"
"Why do you say that so hesitantly?" he asked, with one eyebrow sticking up.
"It's just...oh never mind."
A fit of coughing erupted behind him, and he turned to see it was the girl again. It was a crime, really, the way some servants were treated. He was glad his mother did not treat their workers in the same murderous way this household obviously did.
"Have I satisfied your worries now? I would like to see her and be on my way. It's pouring dreadfully outside." Peter said exasperately.
The lady nodded slowly and then turned to the maid on the steps.
"Sydney, get over here!" she said, her voice suddenly turning steely and harsh.
"What? Certainly that's not..." Peter started, but the girl rose up to her full height and walked slowly and painfully to where the two were standing.
"I would like you to meet your future husband, Sydney."
Part Four Posted on Sunday, 17 October 1999
Sydney could only stare at Mrs. Pott in disbelief. She did not have time for jokes. She was on Breakfast duty and she just wanted to get her work finished. Crawling into bed, as hard as it was, sounded simply divine to her right then.
She was ready to turn and walk up the stairs when she really looked at the man in front of her. He was very tall, yet then again, everyone was to her. He was incredibly handsome and maybe several years ago, when her circumstances were different, she would have dwelled on that fact. Now her life had changed. She ate and slept--although not much--and did her chores. There was nothing else.
"I can tell by the way you look at me you don't believe me, Syd. It's true, just ask the gentleman."
Sydney turned to look at the man again and suddenly she felt worried. He did not look like he was joking. Had Daniel really done it? Her master's son had always threatened to sell her to the highest bidder. Daniel was a very arrogant, spoiled, and handsome young man. That was not a good combination to Sydney's thinking.
He had frequently tried to press his advantage against her. She was not stupid, however, and she had morals. She did everything in her power to discourage him, even resorting to force if need be. Resisting him made Daniel mad. He was used to getting what he wanted. Sydney was not actually sure what he wanted, but she could make an educated guess by where his hands seemed to wander. Sydney coughed again and the excruciating pain in her chest multiplied.
"Sydney, go pack your bags." Mrs. Pott screeched.
Sydney seemed to be rooted to the spot as another coughing fit overcame her.
"Get out of here, girl! We can't be gettin' this gentleman sick!"
Sydney was grabbed in the familiar steel like grip and half dragged to the kitchen door.
"Hurry up, girl. We cannot be keepin' your...husband waiting for long." With an evil grin, Mrs. Pott shoved her roughly through the door.
As Sydney trudged up the stairs to the attic, she wondered at Mrs. Pott's last statement. Why had she paused before she said husband? What was she to be? His mistress? Sydney shuddered at the thought and quickly threw her few belongings into a bag. She was tempted to just lay down on the bed and sleep, but Mrs. Pott would just come up and get her--and probably give her a punishment.
It was difficult for Sydney to make it down the stairs as everything around her seemed to be getting blurry and dizzy. She was about to step through the door when she heard the two voices.
"I'm surprised Daniel's letting Sydney go. He's quite, oh, infatuated with her--if you know what I mean."
Sydney could feel the hot blush rising onto her cheeks.
"Has she...Is she.." the man paused, "I beg your pardon, ma'am. It is not proper for me to speak with you on this subject."
"Sonny, it don't matter to me. Sydney's pure, I can tell you that. Gave Danny Boy quite a bruise on his chin to keep it that way. Just to warn ya, boy, she don't talk."
"What do you mean, she does not talk?"
"I don't know everything, son. Alls I know is that she hasn't uttered one word in the three years she's been here."
Before the man could respond, Sydney entered. She could not look him in the eyes and she was sure the blush on her face betrayed the fact she had heard their conversation.
"Are you ready to leave, Miss King? Is that all you have?" the man asked.
She nodded slowly, so not to intensify the pounding in her head.
"Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am."
"Anything to get her out of my hands, sonny."
Sydney might have flashed her a mean look if she felt she had the strength. She followed the man out of the door. She gasped as the torrent of rain hit her full blast in the face. The warmth from the room evaporated in a few seconds and she was soon shivering almost violently.
The arms that went instantly around her as she faltered in her step were strong and warm. Suddenly, she felt safe--more safe than she had for several years. Strange, since usually she wanted to handicap most of the men who had touched her.
This man seemed different. She noticed the way he was trying to shield her from the rainfall with his body. He was supporting her, but his grip was gentle. It was funny, she thought as they made their way to a grand carriage, the first man I have not wanted to slug in a long time and I do not even know his name.
Part Five Posted on Tuesday, 26 October 1999
The girl did not talk. She had not said one word to him. She had immediately closed her eyes and laid her head down on the plush carriage seat. She was asleep in seconds, and was now sleeping like the dead. She could have been mistaken for it. Her face was pale and dirty. She was deathly thin and frail.
Peter immediately chided himself for not thinking rationally. His plan for going in and breaking up the arrangement had dissolved when he had seen her. He had acted on intuition. He did not even know for sure she was Sydney King. If she was, though, what in the hell had happened to her? When they neared Pemberley, Peter reached over to wake the girl up.
"Sydney--wake up." he told her sleeping form, giving her shoulder a gentle shake.
She awoke and for the first time since they met, she looked him straight in the eyes. Funny, he had never noticed her eyes before. They were the most beautiful blue--violet, really. She stared into his eyes as if she was measuring him up. When she suddenly looked away, Peter wondered if he had passed her test. For some reason, it somehow mattered to him.
"We're home," he told her to break the silence.
He saw her curiosity as she looked out the window. After she saw the estate, she did not seem to be awed. When the carriage came to a stop, Peter stood and opened the door for her. Sydney stood up and seemed to teeter for a few seconds.
"We will have to make a run for it," he said, pointing out the door where his family stood under cover.
Sydney nodded, but he noticed she seemed to be in extreme pain. Peter took the crook of her arm and started to run. Sydney followed for a few steps and then he felt her go limp. Without thinking, he lifted her into his arms and ran to where his parents were waiting. She barely felt like anything in his arms and that scared him.
"What happened?" his mother asked, concern obvious in her voice.
"She is sick, ma. I could not just leave her." he said, as he was rushed into the warm house.
"Megan, light a fire in the blue room. Bring hot water and plenty of blankets." Elizabeth ordered one of the maids.
His mother led him up the stairs to an extra room where he carefully placed Sydney on the bed. Peter's younger sister, Liza, followed his mother in. She wanted to be a doctor and began to give orders.
"Mother, we have to get these wet clothes off her. She will catch a chill and die." Liza stopped to take her pulse. "By the sound of her breathing, I'd say it's in the chest. Let us pray it is not pneumonia."
Liza then saw Peter hovering by the door.
"Peter, we have to change her clothes. Get out." Liza all but pushed her older brother out the door.
Elizabeth Darcy had never seen a girl in such a poor state of health.
"This is horrible," she muttered, "a child this age should be healthy and strong."
"It's simply disgusting mother." Liza agreed.
Liza was a short, small girl, but she packed a punch. At sixteen, she was just coming out. She looked innocent and sweet, but when she spoke her mind...the words flew without thinking sometimes. She was tough, but that was inevitable growing up with three brothers. She wanted to be an apothecary, which because of her sex, she could not be. Liza did not care and was determined to beat the odds.
Elizabeth had just finished unbuttoning the back of the girl's dress. When she pulled the material off, she gasped and tears came to her eyes.
"Good God Almighty!" Liza exclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth and darted a look at her mother.
Lucky for her, because of the horrid sight in front of them, Mrs. Darcy had not heard. Sydney King had been beaten. Of that there was no doubt in their minds. The black, blue, and yellow bruises all down her back probed their assumption correct. Elizabeth felt the bile in her throat and took a deep, calming breath.
"Hurry and get her dressed," she told her daughter and Megan.
Once Sydney was dressed warmly and bundled up under the covers, Liza immediately put her hand on the girl's forehead.
"Just as I suspected," Liza muttered, checking her pulse again.
"What is it, dear?" Elizabeth asked in exasperation.
Although through all the medical books her daughter read, she was educated in medicine, Liza pretended to know a little more than she actually did.
"She has a high fever. This should help." Liza told her, then put a damp cloth around her forehead.
As Liza was patting the girl's hand gently, Sydney opened her eyes. They rolled from side to side as they took in Elizabeth and her daughter. She looked sick and incredibly afraid.
"Where am I, ma'am?" she whispered to Elizabeth.
"This is Pemberley. I am Peter Darcy's mother." Elizabeth stated slowly.
The girl looked confused.
"You remember, don't you Sydney? Your father arranged your marriage to Peter?" Liza prodded helpfully.
Now the girl looked even more confused.
"I was not sold to him?" she asked softly. "He did not purchase me?"
"Good gracious, no!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
Sydney looked like she wanted to say more, but she fell asleep first.
"Spit, mother. Did you just hear what she thought?" Liza exclaimed. Again, under the circumstances, her unladylike word, was forgotten.
"That poor girl. She thought she was to..."Elizabeth stopped and eyed her only daughter.
"I know all about the birds and the bees, mama. I also know what she thought she was for Peter."
"How do you..." Elizabeth stopped.
"I have three older brothers, mother, and sometimes they do not always know I am around." Liza grinned.
"How do they...never mind. I do not wish to be enlightened." Elizabeth shook her head and then pulled up the covers around Sydney's chin.
"I will fetch Master Peter if you would like, ma'am." Megan suggested. "And the apothecary?"
"Yes, yes. Thank you, Megan. My head is in the clouds this morning. I can always count on your fine judgment." Elizabeth smiled.
"How are you going to tell him, mother? He has a frightful temper, you know. He'll likely want to rush at whoever did this with his hunting rifle." Liza stated.
"Very eloquently put, dear." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"I thought so."
Peter entered the room in a few moments. He must have been waiting just down the hall. He tried to look at Sydney on the bed, but the two tried their best to keep her away from his eyes.
"Son, sit down. I have two very disturbing things to tell you." his mother commanded.
"Is she dead?" he gasped.
Liza noticed with a grin, Peter had grown five shades pale. Could he have feelings for this girl? Hmmm, this could get interesting.
"No, no, Peter. She is not dead." Elizabeth seemed to stop and stall.
"Well, mother?" he prodded.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "She thought she was being sold to you so that she could be your mistress."
"My what?" Peter asked in anger, standing up.
"How could she?...That damned housekeeper, Mrs. Potts. She never told her we had an arranged marriage." Peter said.
"Don't curse in front of me or your sister." Elizabeth commanded.
Peter raised an eyebrow at his baby sister. He had heard her curse many times, and worse.
"I trust you cleared up the matter, mother." he said.
"Of course!"
"Well, then that is taken care of. Now, the second thing?"
Elizabeth glanced at Liza and her daughter recognized her mother's gaze.
"Brother, when we were inspecting her...Now don't get mad...We realized that she had been beaten. Badly."
Peter's reaction was immediate. His blue eyes, which could turn to stone at any moment, turned to grey ice. He showed no other action besides the rage on his face and his grip on the handles of his chair.
"Let me see." he said tersely.
"Absolutely not, Peter!" Liza exclaimed, running over to Sydney as if to shield her.
Peter glanced at his mother. She knew he had to know how badly his fiancee' was hurt. She gave him a stiff nod to show him her acceptance. She stood and carefully unbuttoned the back of the girl's dress ever so slightly.
Peter sucked in a breath and tentatively reached out a hand to softly touch one blue bruise. His eyes almost had tears in them for a few seconds. No girl, not even if she was a servant, deserved treatment such as this. What kind of gentleman would order it?
When he looked up at his mother, his eyes were no longer teary. They were angry and full of revenge.
"Mark my words, mother. I will find whoever did this to her, and I will make them pay."
With that, he strode out of the room and slammed the door.
Elizabeth and Liza stared after him.
"Well, I think that went well." Liza said grimly.
"Go get your father, Liza. Darcy must hear of this."
Part Six Posted on Monday, 1 November 1999
The Great Fitzwilliam Darcy, man of suppressed emotions, could hardly contain his when he saw Sydney King lying in her bed, looking half dead. He kept stealing glances at his daughter, thanking God each time that Liza was safe at home with him.
"What action should be taken first, Father?" Peter asked. "Pistols, sabers, or hunting rifles? Of course, fighting skin to skin might be better. We are not cowards. We'll fight like men." This was said all in one breath.
"Is not father a little old to be fighting, brother?" Liza teased.
"Yes, yes, perhaps. With Jonathan, Ben and I...I believe we can handle just about any battle." Peter continued.
"Peter Fitzwilliam Darcy! You must stop this instant! We will not have you go avenge this girl, when you do not even know if your betrothed will live. We need to focus on getting her well before you go get yourself and your brothers killed." Elizabeth reprimanded her son and her husband, who seemed a little too interested at her son's impassioned speech.
"Yes, ma'am." Peter said quietly.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrow at her husband.
"Yes, dear." he said hanging his head with a long, exaggerated sigh.
At that moment Megan opened the door.
"Dr. Mulligan has arrived, Mrs. Darcy." she announced while the old doctor entered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. Is this the patient?" he asked, walking towards the bed.
The coughing fit that suddenly overcame Sydney seemed to answer his question. The good doctor shooed everyone out of the room, save Liza who was always his trusted assistant, and came back out in a few minutes.
"Is she going to die?" Peter asked immediately.
"No, young man," the doctor chuckled, "she is far from it. There is really nothing incredibly wrong with her. She has a horrible fever and cold, but otherwise is just extremely tired. All she needs is plenty of rest, lots of tea, and a warm and decent meal. By the looks of her, I am not surprised if she has not eaten in several weeks."
Peter turned and hollered down the hall for a servant to bring Miss King breakfast and lunch.
"I do not think she can eat all that," Mrs. Darcy laughed.
Peter shrugged.
"So you are saying she will be all right?" Peter asked.
"Yes, sir, she will be. I would expect her to rest for a week, and then she should be healed. I have instructed Liza on every situation that could possibly occur, but I am very confident it will be a quick recovery."
Dr. Mulligan and Fitzwilliam went down to his study so Mr. Darcy could pay the man. Liza came out of the room, and closed the door softly. She turned immediately to the waiting maid.
"Megan, you are the only servant I really trust. I will need your help with Miss King." Liza told the girl.
"Yes'm." she said, curtsying. "Master Darcy, I was wondering if you would want the girl's things in her room--the ones she left in the carriage."
"Yes, thank you, Megan. Have them brought right up, please." Peter then turned to his sister.
"You are sure, Liza, that she will be all right?" the concern in his voice was hard to miss.
It touched his mother's heart to see her little boy had grown up to be such a compassionate gentleman. Liza was proud too, in her own way, but could not resist to tease.
"It sounds like you have feelings for this girl, Peter." she laughed.
Peter immediately froze up, his eyes turning grey again.
"I pity her, that is all, sister."
Part Seven Posted on Saturday, 6 November 1999
Sydney woke up with one horrible headache. Every time she moved or slightly jarred her head, the pounding would increase. She literally felt like someone was taking a heavy book and hitting her over the head with it--several times.
She heard the girls voice--what was her name, again?--and tried to close her eyes again and pretend to be asleep. The girl caught her. Sydney had just turned to her side, when the girl and the servant walked in.
"Oh wonderful!" the girl exclaimed. "You are up! Are you feeling better? Hmm, your fever has broken? You should feel a little bit sweaty. Do you? I hope you do not feel nauseous because my brother has ordered about a weeks worth of meals up here."
Sydney, getting dizzy by trying to keep up with the girl's chatter, could only nod, which happened to hurt her head immensely. The pain actually caused tears to come to her eyes.
"Good. I believe you are already recovering." the girl turned to the servant, who was tapping her on the shoulder.
"Should I bring Miss King some tea, Miss Liza? Her head seems to be hurting her greatly." the servant asked.
"Yes, of course, Megan. I should have thought of that before."
Megan was gone and back with in a few moments. The tea had already been put together in the kitchen. Peter had figured she would need it and had told another servant to prepare it.
"Do you remember anything?" the girl asked, sitting on the foot of the bed. Hadn't the servant called her Liz...no, Liza. Yes, Liza, that was it.
When Sydney shook her head, Liza needed no more prompting.
"This morning my father called Peter into his study. I do not really know what happened in there because his doors are oak and it is hard to hear anything." Liza said.
Megan gave her a smile as they both helped Sydney into a sitting position so she could drink her tea.
"Soon after that, Peter stormed out of here all angry like. I know why, now of course. Peter does not want to get married anytime soon." Liza explained.
That makes two of us, Sydney thought grimly.
"My mother explained to me he was going to pick up his future wife. She did not explain how you came to be his betrothed. I do not think father wanted me to know. You came back and while you two were running through the rain, you fell, and Peter just picked you up in his arms, like you weighed nothing at all!" Liza said, starting to get into the excitement of the storytelling.
"It really was quite romantic, Miss King. Here he was carrying you into safety. He would not give you to anyone either, until you were in bed. You should have seen him when he found out you were beaten. He was ready to kill whoever did it to you." Megan broke in and when she was done with this, she let out a long sigh and had a faraway look on her face.
Liza snorted. "Please, this is my brother we are talking about. You are about to make me lose my lunch."
Sydney did not even hear this. They all knew she was beaten! How incredibly embarrassing! First this Peter knows about Daniel and now this. She never wanted to face him again.
She never got her wish, because just as that thought entered her mind, a knock burst into her reflections. Megan stood up and opened up the door to reveal Peter. He stepped in and looked around, then came to the bed.
Sydney could not help but grip her teacup tighter. The fear that filled her when he looked at her was unsettling. He was tall--too tall. She did not really remember anything that had happened, but she did remember his eyes. They were blue, but as hers were violet, his were grey. She hoped he could not sense her fear.
"I believe this is yours, Miss King," he spoke.
Sydney could only nod. She hoped he did not see how white her knuckles were from gripping the cup. Could he hear her heartbeat? She did not doubt it, because it seemed to pounding in her ears.
Peter turned to give his sister a quizzical look and then Sydney knew that Peter could sense her apprehension. Liza came to the bed and took one of Syndey's hand in her own, and then gave it a squeeze.
"I think that mother wanted me to help her with her knitting, right Megan?" she asked, with a grin.
"Yes, I do believe you are late. We had better go." Megan returned her grin and the two walked simultaneously out of the room.
Sydney stared after them in surprise and then turned her eyes to look at Peter for a few moments. She quickly looked down at her lap. She tried to reach out for her bag, but it was too far away. Peter quickly saw this and gave it to her. Their hands brushed and Sydney withdrew hers quickly, as if his touch was poison.
Sydney reached inside her bag and pulled out her two most precious possessions. One was a beautiful and ornate jewelry box. The other was a well-read book of Shakespeare's Sonnets. She fingered each delicately and lovingly.
"What are those?" he asked.
She was so surprised at the sound of his voice, that she almost dropped the things in her hands. She looked up at him with what she knew were fearful eyes, but she did not answer. She would not.
Peter stared at her for a few seconds and then stood.
"You will get over this fear of me," he said, heading towards the door. "And you will also eventually talk to me."
With that, he shut the door, and left Sydney to wallow in her own silent reflections.
Part Eight Posted on Sunday, 14 November 1999
A shot rang out, the bullet missing the target by several feet. The bird flew off, unscathed. Peter watched it fly off and then began to reload his gun again.
"That is the fourth missed fowl today," Jonathan grinned, his dimples working full strength.
"Yes, especially since Peter has the best shot of all of us," the youngest brother, Benjamin, added.
Peter gave them both a dark look and proceeded to ignore them.
"I wonder what the problem might be?" Jonathan asked, rubbing his chin.
"Could it possibly be that pretty little thing he is engaged to?" Benjamin wondered, barely keeping the smile off his face.
Peter's head shot up, then he scowled.
"You have never seen her. How would you know if she was pretty or not?" he asked.
"One day, when Megan told us she was sleeping, Ben and I went in to take a look. You said she was pale and tiny. I was expecting an extremely unattractive girl. That is not what we saw." Jonathan stated.
Ben shook his head as if to back up his brother's statement.
"She has gotten her color back, but she is still tiny." Peter muttered, taking aim, shooting, and missing again.
"You are a lucky man, Peter. She is quite a nice looking woman." Jonathan smiled.
"I would hardly call her a woman. She is more of a child." Peter missed again and cursed under his breath.
Before his brothers could poke any more fun at him, he whistled for his hounds and turned to take the long walk back to the house. His younger brothers were usually his lifeline in this house. All three were inseparable and within a five year age difference. Peter being the oldest and Ben being the youngest. The three could be almost identical in looks, but there were a few differences. Peter had grey eyes, Jonathan had green, and Ben brown. Peter was the tall, strong, fully grown one. Jonathan was tall and lanky. Ben still needed a few years until he would fulfill his height and stature.
They were all practical jokers and were lighthearted, but each had an incredible temper--Peter's being the worst. Ben was the really kind hearted one, always putting others feelings before his own. Jonathan was the spiritual one, who planned on becoming a minister. Peter was the indifferent one. It was not that he was mean to others, he just did not care. In fact, nothing--save his family-- really mattered to him.
In the distance he noticed a figure walking slowly among the gardens. Every so often, she would stop and smell a flower on her walk. The abundance of pale curls gave her identity away. No one at Derbyshire had hair quite like hers. He did not admire it, of course, he only noticed it because it was a change from the rest of the people around him.
He was surprised when he heard a beautiful him float to his ears. Was this coming from Sydney? Then his thoughts changed direction. Why in the world was she out walking about? It had not been a week yet, and Peter did not want her traipsing about the countryside and making herself sicker. He would simply go to his sister and tell her where his fiancee' was. Knowing Liza, she would come and get her right away.
His cover was blown, however, when one of his hounds sniffed out a new scent. Running over to Sydney, he began to explore this new smell. Sydney smiled and reached down to pat the dog on the head. When she looked up and met Peter's gaze, her smile disappeared and it was replaced by a look of fear. Even from this distance, Peter could see the fright in her eyes.
He was getting rather sick of it all. Since that first day Sydney King had come to Derbyshire, he had been nothing but kind and affectionate. He felt like a fool. He never showed anyone too much affection, save his family. This girl was not family, and with the way she was acting, he wondered if she ever would be.
Sydney looked like she wanted to run, but she surprised him by standing her ground, even when he started walking towards her. As he got closer, he took a good look at her. She did look a lot better, a hell of a lot better. There was actually some color on her face and she did not look like she was going to keel over and die at any second.
"Does my sister know you are out here, Miss King?" he asked her.
She shook her head, her wide blue eyes affixed on his face. He felt a sick feeling of power when she looked at him with such fright. He shook the feeling off. That is how beatings got started.
"I must insist then, that I escort you in to your room." he said.
For one split second, he saw some defiance in her eyes. It was like a glimpse of a girl from a long time ago, who was hidden inside this cowering and frightened woman. Then, the change left and she nodded in submission and followed him back to the house.
Part Nine Posted on Saturday, 20 November 1999
Sydney was looking out the window wistfully. It was such a beautiful day and she longed to be outside walking about. She could almost feel the light sun warming her back and smell the fragrant flowers. The slight breeze lifted her hair and brought that sweet scent to her nose. She inhaled a deep breath and decided she was going out.
It was unfair for Peter Darcy to keep her in the house, like she was some kind of caged animal. She grabbed her shawl and had stepped towards the door, when it swung open, nearly missing her face. She immediately dropped the shawl and tried to look nonchalant.
Megan's keen eye took all this in. She set down the huge meal she was carrying on a tray and turned back to Sydney, a smile on her face.
"It would be better if you obey Master Darcy, miss. For now anyway."
Sydney shrugged, then turned to look at the lunch. She sighed. Peter was taking her hunger a little too far. She nearly had a five course meal for breakfast, supper, and dinner. She was still full from her first meal. She did not know how she would force the second. Megan sensed this and gave a little chuckle.
"I know you have not had much company, Miss King. Miss Liza has been very busy with her studies. Mr. Darcy has also been very, uh, busy. I might send up a hound to keep you company. Would this suit you?" she asked, nodding her head towards the food.
Sydney slowly smiled and then nodded. Megan went out the door, down the stairs, and sent a hound up. As soon as Sydney heard the paws padding on the floor, she opened her door and whistled softly. The dog's head immediately popped up. Cautiously, he took the remaining steps toward Sydney. When she patted his head, trust was made and he gave a sharp yelp and jumped up to lick her face. Sydney laughed and pushed the animal down, then beckoned him into her room and closed the door.
Once she gave him the food, the dog went from trusting her, to becoming loyal. She sunk down to the floor and began to pet him. The hound seemed to be young, and he wanted to play. She cautiously opened her door and looked up and down the hallway. Nobody was to be seen. No one ever came up to her floor except for Megan, and she already knew the dog was up with her.
Sydney picked up a small pillow and whistled for the dog to come out into the hall. They then proceeded to play a great game of catch, until the dog suddenly stopped, and sat down. She walked up to it and waved the pillow in front of it's face, but it's attention was focused somewhere else. She suddenly had the sinking feeling, she knew where--and what.
"I doubt my mother would want her pillows ruined." came the remark.
Sydney took a deep breath to calm her heart, and turned slowly around. She expected Peter Darcy to be angry. Instead, he looked slightly amused. He had a half smile on his lips and his eyes did not seem so cold. Truthfully, Sydney was getting less afraid of him everyday. She still did not like him, and thought him extremely unpleasant, but she did not think he would hurt her.
"I am sorry to interrupt you, Miss King, but I am afraid I will need my hound back." he stated, the sarcastic smile never leaving his lips.
She nodded and watched as the dog stood up and walked to his owner's side at Peter's command. The dog was perfectly trained. But I never will be!
"You better go in and rest, Miss King." he said, opening the door for her.
"I will have Megan bring up some more food since you ate this so quickly." he commented, noting the empty tray.
Sydney sighed and rolled her eyes before she thought better of it. She was suddenly fearful. She closed her eyes and waited for the punishment for her insolence. After a few seconds, she opened one eye at a time, and saw that Peter was looking at her. He did not look mad, he just looked exasperated.
"I am not going to hit you." he said, surprisingly gently.
"Please believe me, Miss King, that I will never harm you physically."
She studied him intently. He seemed to be sincere, but--oh--she did not know what to believe. She had lost faith in so many people, she did not want to start putting any trust in him. It hurt less that way when they betrayed her.
"Do you understand me?" he asked, moving closer to her.
She took one step back for every one he took forward. It was all she could do but nod her head quickly.
"No, you do not. If you did understand me, you would not have backed away." he shook his head in what seemed to be disgust.
"Sydney, you will start speaking to me soon. I am getting very sick of your silence." he said to her.
He then bowed and walked out the door.
And I, sir, am getting sick of your arrogance and superiorness, she thought to tell his retreating frame. Her vow of silence was proving to be difficult when all she wanted to do was break down and yell at the man. She just hoped she would not really be forced to marry him.
Part Ten Posted on Sunday, 28 November 1999
It was a beautiful morning and Peter took the steps two at a time as he walked down to the dining room. Even Jonathan seemed to be in a merry mood that morning, something very different from the usual Jonathan that awoke. He passed by his older brother and whacked him on the back, almost sending him headfirst down the stairs.
"What are you so happy for?" he called after him.
Jonathan kept going, just waved his arm to his brother for an answer. Peter heard Benjamin coming up behind him. He turned before his brother could surprise him, also.
"Why is he in such a good mood this morning?" Peter asked, as the two brothers walked side by side.
"He won a little wager from our little sister." was all he would tell.
Peter shrugged and they both entered the dining room. He gave his mother the customary kiss on the cheek, and then sat down at his usual spot at the table. The food looked extremely enticing that morning, until he looked up and caught a glance at his younger sister's face. She was giving him her look.
Sighing, he put his food back on his plate. "What did I do this time, sis?"
She raised her right eyebrow and crossed her arms across her chest. She then looked at Jonathan, who gave a hearty laugh. Peter was now thoroughly confused.
"I think you know what you have done, brother dear. You have lost me two guineas**." she pouted.
"How did he do this, dear?" Mrs. Darcy asked, hardly keeping the amusement out of her tone.
"Jonathan won the bet." was all she said, before she stuffed a sausage in her mouth to chew.
All heads turned to look at Jonathan.
"Are you going to tell us of your own freewill, or shall I make you tell?" Fitzwilliam asked.
Jonathan sighed and tried to look angry, but his dimples did him in.
"Liza and I had a simple bet. She figured that Peter would allow his betrothed out of her room before today, and I knew he would not." Jonathan sent his sister a smug look. The family was surprised he did not stick out his tongue. "I won."
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy rolled their eyes and looked at each other.
"I thought our children were older than five, Fitzwilliam." she told her husband.
"So did I."
"I do not appreciate you making bets on Miss King's life. She is in her room because she has not fully recovered from her illness." Peter said firmly.
Liza snorted and instantly had Peter's icy grey eyes on her.
"What was that?" he all but snarled.
"What was what, brother?" she asked innocently.
"Nothing," he muttered, as he stood up from the table and sulked out of the room.
"He seems to be taking her illness to heart," he heard Jonathan saying. Peter frowned when his family erupted into chuckles.
Taking a deep breath, he walked outside. He whistled for his hound, who came running from the lake. He gave the dog a pat on the head so it would be contented to follow him around as he let off steam.
As soon as they neared the lake, the dog let out a howl and ran full force in it's direction.
"What the--" he muttered, until he saw what the hound was racing for.
Sydney turned around a scant second before the dog jumped up, knocking her slight frame over the waters edge. Peter was off and running in a few seconds, and was about to jump in and save her, when she stood up and came walking to the grass. She was sputtering and her wet hair was hanging in her face.
"Good God, are you all right?" he could not help asking.
Sydney gave a start and then turned to see him staring at her. She immediately turned red in embarrassment. Peter could hardly not notice how...becoming she looked. Her hair had turned a darkened color when wet, and there were still beads of water on her nose. Her eyes were wide with fright and her cheeks were pink. He shook these thoughts away and turned to his anger to hide those ridiculous observations.
"What the hell were you doing so far away from the house?" he yelled, gripping her arm and pulling her farther away from water.
"Dammit, you could have been killed! You could have drowned in the lake with no one near to help. Thank goodness I was here in case something had happened."
He knew he was yelling and he tried to tell himself to stop, but she was trying his patience. If she was not going to talk to him, the least she could do was listen to him and abide by his rules.
He looked into her eyes and expected to see the usual wide violet eyes filled with fear and unshed tears. What he saw, was clearly not that. Her eyes were perfectly dry and instead of fear, he saw anger. Pure, classic, anger.
"Let us get back to the house before you do anymore damage," he said, pulling her arm again.
He had turned and started walking when she pulled her arm from his grip.
"I would kindly appreciate it, sir, if you let me walk by myself. I am highly capable of it, although I am sure you doubt that is possible."
Peter froze. He turned slowly to stare at her in total surprise.
"I do not see what you are so mad about. If you had not come, none of this would have happened." she continued to yell, unaware of his stares.
"Furthermore, I would greatly appreciate if you watched your mouth when I am present. Maybe you are used to that crude language, but I, sir, am not." She shut her mouth and then crossed her arms.
"Are you finished?" he asked, trying to be humourous.
"No, I am not!" she said, her hands back on her hips. She obviously did not realize how angry she was making Peter. He was glad she was talking, but to speak to him in this manner was unacceptable.
"I came here to marry you, not be kept prisoner, which I have found may just be about the same thing. I am grateful for your kindness during my illness, but as you can see I am perfectly healthy now. I will take no more of your self-righteous, bossy attitude." She cried out in surprise as Peter whipped a hand over her mouth.
"You certainly have made up for lost time," Peter said. He was trying to stay angry, but she looked so alive all of a sudden.
"Ow!" he cried, as she bit his hand.
Once she was free, she tried to run back to the house. Unfortunately, she seemed to forget her layers of wet skirts. She made it about three steps before she tripped and fell. Peter wanted to burst into laughter as he walked over to her fallen form, but he kept up a layer of dignity for her sake.
"If you laugh I will kill you," she muttered, flashing him the most angry look he had ever seen. She put Liza's looks to shame.
She stood up on her own, turned her chin up like a princess, and began walking to the house. Peter should have been seething with anger. Sydney had dared to call him self righteous and bossy. He would deal with that later, he thought as he watched her nearly trip and fall again. She was certainly not afraid of him anymore. He could not help smiling, but then wiped it off as he followed her back to the house.
Part Eleven Posted on Tuesday, 7 December 1999
Sydney shivered slightly and brushed the tears off her cheeks. Walking along the path, she sat down under a large oak and stared up into the moon. She sighed and leaned back into the cool tree trunk. She hated crying. Crying was a weakness and Sydney did not want to be weak. She could not afford to be. When people were weak, they were left open to the stronger. Peter Darcy was strong, and she certainly did not want to leave herself open to him.
She had learned not to let her feelings show. Ever since that one horrible day...Sydney shook her head to clear the thoughts away. She wanted them back under the lock and key she usually had them in. She started rubbing her arms to ward off the chill. It really was getting cold out and she should be heading back to the house, but she could not make herself get up and move.
"I always seem to find you where you are not supposed to be, Miss King," she heard a deep, male voice say. She knew who it was without looking.
She immediately straightened her shoulders. She was ready to stand up and defend herself when, to her surprise, he slumped down next to her.
"I do not appreciate you defying my orders," he paused, "However, I do not blame you one bit tonight. I had to get out myself. The house is quite stifling."
Sydney was furiously brushing her cheeks before Mr. Darcy noticed her, but it was too late.
"Are you well, Miss King?" the concern in his voice was unmistakable and it made her feel uncomfortable.
"Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Why would you think otherwise?" she sniffed.
"You are crying."
"No, I am not."
"I am afraid you are."
Sydney kept silent with embarrassment, until he handed her his handkerchief. She thanked him and gave it back when she was done.
"You may keep it," he told her.
Silence again. Peter seemed content to stare into the moonlight, but Sydney was uneasy.
"I want to...to apologize for the words I said to you earlier. I do not recollect everything I told you, but I am sure it was inappropriate." she said all in one breath.
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I was mad about it, very angry, but really it was quite amusing. I do not want it to become a regular routine." he hastily added.
Sydney started to cry again. She wanted to go throw herself into the lake, she was so embarrassed. She willed herself to stop crying, but her tears seemed to have a mind of their own.
"Did I say something to upset you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It is just strange talking again. I told myself I never would, and I lived for four years without speaking a word. I am emotional right now, I am very sorry. I do not know what is the matter with me." she sniffled resolutely and took a deep breath.
"I appreciate you breaking your promise so you can speak with me. It might have put a damper on our marriage if you did not." he laughed.
Sydney was startled at the sound of his laugh. She did not know this Peter. Aside from her father, she had not known men to be lighthearted. She knew them only to be moody, quizzical creatures. She tried her hardest to stay out of their way. She wished the old, gruff Peter would come back.
"I will be turning twenty four soon."
"That is nice." Sydney said properly.
"We have to marry before then." he announced to her.
She immediately blushed.
"I would like to apologize for that also. My father had no right to place this burden upon your family. I feel extremely guilty for his rash action." she told him, not quite looking at him in the face.
"Did your father ever give you a reason for it?" Peter wondered absently.
"My father never told me about his agreement. I can only make an assumption. At my birth, my father had made a business deal that went sour. He was losing money and he and my mother were so very worried about finances. At least, that is what my father told me. I suppose he was so worried, he drafted up that agreement. However, as I grew older, he earned all the money he lost and then some. I suppose he forgot about the agreement." Sydney was staring off in another direction.
"Where is your father now?" he asked.
Sydney felt the reaction. She could not stop them. Whenever she even thought about her father and mother, the images came and invaded her whole mind. Her eyes teared up again. No! she told herself, and the images began to fade. She looked at Peter and they stared straight into each other's eyes. Please do not make me explain. she wanted to say to him. He stood up and helped her up gently.
"We better be getting back. You will need your rest. You have to meet my brothers tomorrow." he said as they walked along.
"Are they anything like your sister?" she asked, with a wry smile.
Peter stopped and grinned at her. "Worse."
Part Twelve Posted on Sunday, 12 December 1999
"Where is she?" Jonathan asked, pacing back and forth between the breakfast table and the door.
"Calm yourself, Jonathan. She will be down here soon." Peter physically pushed his brother down into his seat. "I need to talk to the both of you before she comes."
Peter gathered his thoughts and then began to speak. He knew how intimidating his brothers could be and he also knew how easily his betrothed was intimidated--especially by men. He guessed he could not blame her, considering all that been done to her, what he knew of and what he did not. Jonathan and Ben were tall, strong, and they liked to tease. She obviously was not used to men who teased, by the way she acted around him when he had dared bait her.
"Peter?" Ben asked.
He sighed. "Miss King is very different from most women you have met. Especially you, Jonathan. To put it frankly, she is petrified of men. She was and still might be incredibly scared of me."
"Who isn't scared of you, Peter? Remember Miss Watson?" Jonathan laughed.
"She had her hat set on you," Ben grinned at the memory.
"Until you told her flat out that you were never going to even give her a second glance, so she might as well quit." Jonathan said, hitting his older brother in the back a few times.
Peter gave them each a warning look, and they immediately stopped, although Jonathan's dimples were strained. Peter sighed. They were going to frighten her. Hell, they frightened him. He stood up straighter and turned around when he heard a knock at the door. Suddenly, in came Liza, dragging Sydney behind her.
"I told her she did not have to knock," Liza explained, dropping Sydney's arm.
Peter smiled at the girl and was rewarded with a dazzling smile from her. He was taken aback. He could not even remember if he had seen her smile once yet in the whole time she had been at Pemberley. Now, here she was giving him her smile. He felt proud. He was brought back to earth when Ben cleared his throat.
"Good morning, Miss King," he said politely.
"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she returned.
"Miss King, I would like you to meet my brothers. This here is Jonathan Darcy, and the other one is--"
"James Darcy?" she asked helpfully.
"No, my name is Benjamin," Ben grinned. As soon as Sydney's eyes were on him, he turned his gaze to his feet.
"I simply assumed it would be James. Peter, James, and John?" she prodded.
"You are familiar with the bible?" Jonathan asked, his eyes lighting up. Peter rolled his eyes. Sydney had just made a friend for life.
"Of course," Sydney said, smiling in a way that suggested she was holding back laughter.
To Peter's utter amazement, he watched his brash and confident younger brother blush like a schoolgirl. When he started to speak, he stuttered and could not seem to get any words out of his mouth. Peter looked over at Ben, to see him staring at Sydney with wonderment in his eyes. Peter could almost feel his jaw drop. He had expected his brothers to unnerve Sydney, and instead, it was the other way around. He had never heard Jonathan stutter once in his life.
"I was just telling Sydney about how mother and I were going to London while Peter and father have business." Liza broke in, "I know mother will not object to Sydney coming. What do you think, Peter?"
Peter looked thoughtfully at Sydney, who focused her eyes on a point over his shoulder.
"I expect there would be no problems with that, as long as Miss King is feeling up to it. I would not want her getting ill again." he said. Sydney's eyes flew to his face for a brief moment and then looked away, slightly amused.
"Will you come, Sydney? Oh, I know it will be such fun! We can go shopping and buy you a new gown. I am positive we will have at least one ball here for you, and you must have something to wear. My old gowns will not do at all. Anyway, you are much shorter than me. That dress you are wearing now is all but dragging on the floor."
"Oh, I do not think--"Sydney started.
"Nonsense! You will have a new gown. I am determined. Come, let us go speak with mother. What plans we will make!" Liza grabbed Sydney's arm again, and dragged her out the door.
Sydney shot Peter one look of mock trepidation a scant second before she was pulled in to the hallway. When Peter turned around, he almost laughed. The sight of his brothers was very amusing.
"You did not tell me you were going to marry an angel!" Jonathan cried out.
Peter nearly spit out the tea he had been drinking. An angel she was not, he thought, after remembering all the words she had said to him that day by the lake. Peter lifted an eyebrow at Jonathan and then took another drink of tea.
"I thought she was pretty when she was sick. Nothing could have prepared me for that sight. I could die this moment, but I would die a happy man." Ben sighed.
Peter chuckled. "You two are being a little dramatic."
"Have not you noticed how beautiful Miss King is?" Ben asked.
"Of course he has not, Ben. This is Peter we are talking about. He could not tell a beautiful woman from a wet dog." Jonathan told Ben.
"It is true. I have no reason for women. They get in my way." Peter admitted.
"You certainly were not thinking that when she smiled at you, Peter. It was a most wonderful smile, and I saw that even you were taken in." Ben protested.
"I believe you are mistaken, Ben." Peter said, embarrassed, because what Ben remarked was absolutely true.
"I think I will ask Miss King if she wants some instruction in the bible." Jonathan grinned.
A jealousy he could not controlled flared up inside Peter.
"Do not forget this is my fiancee' we are talking about." he reminded them.
"Yes, but you told me you would find a way out of it." Ben said.
Peter paused.
"Yes, that is true. I have not forgotten."
Chapter Thirteen Posted on Tuesday, 21 December 1999
"I think this color would look marvelous on you, Sydney." Liza commented, holding fabric up to her face. "It really compliments your eye color."
"That looks very well, miss," the seamstress, Addie, beamed.
"What is your eye color, exactly, Sydney?" Mrs. Darcy asked.
Peter's mother had turned out to be the most nice woman. She was witty and always cracking a joke. Sydney could tell where Liza got her vivaciousness.
"I always thought they were just plain blue." Sydney smiled.
"Plain blue! Heaven's no! My aunt has plain blue eyes, but you have something altogether different. What are they, mother?" she asked.
Mrs. Darcy shrugged, as she was already talking to Addie about the style of the dress. Addie was smiling in anticipation. She always enjoyed making a girl's first ball dress. This one would have to be extraordinary, for she could tell this girl was extra special.
"I just need to fit you once more, dear, and then you will be off." Addie said.
Sydney gave her a smile because Addie was a darling. Luckily, these fittings would not require her to change gowns, and Addie would not see the bruises on her back. She observed them everyday, and although the swelling and some of the color had left, it was still noticeable. She hoped it would fade soon, but knew it would always be there as a reminder. A reminder of her guilt. She shook the feelings away. Whatever Daniel had done to her, she deserved. It had been her punishment, and Sydney would never forget it.
While she was thinking, Addie had finished the fitting and was carefully taking off the pinned material. Sydney smiled her thanks and stepped over to Mrs. Darcy. Liza had already gone outside.
"Mother!" Liza called, coming to the door. "Mrs. Lancaster is out here and she wishes to speak with you."
Mrs. Darcy nodded and turned to Sydney, who was getting her things together.
"Please hurry, mother. She must leave in a few moments." Liza came over to them then. "Peter is outside the door. He will wait for Sydney and we will meet them at the house," Liza suggested, glancing at Sydney for approval.
"That is all right, Mrs. Darcy. Please go, I would not want you to miss your friends." Sydney told her.
"Thank you, Sydney. We will see you at the house." Mother and daughter turned and walked out of the shop, arm in arm. Sydney watched them with envy until a head peeked through the doorway.
"Are you almost ready, Miss King?" Peter asked, glancing warily around the shop.
She snapped out of her reverie.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy. I just need to talk to Mrs. Mortinson for a few moments."
When her dress details were finalized, Sydney accepted Peter's arm and they entered out in to the busy street. London was familiar to Sydney. Her mother had loved to take her there while her father had business. Later, her father would sometimes take her, but she would be forced to stay inside the house, and only look out a window. She was told her father had been too busy to take her out, but she knew they were lying to her. She knew the truth; her father blamed her.
"...Miss King?" Peter asked.
"Hmm?" she asked, only catching her name.
Peter grinned. "I wondered why you were not more excited. The first time my sister came here, she was practically glowing. I think she might have been able to light all of London at night."
Sydney smiled lightly at his humor. She could well imagine Liza being London's source of light. The way she glowed about everything else gave her a clue.
"This is not your first time, is it, Miss King?" Peter asked, knowingly.
"No, sir, it is not." She gave him that, but no more. Thankfully, he kept silent about the matter.
"Would you like to see my favorite house in all of London?" he asked her.
Sydney did not want to go anywhere in London. She wanted to go back to the Darcy's house, go up to her room, and have a good cry. Why, oh why, had she ever said yes to coming to London? The memories had flown back so quickly, she hardly remembered trying to block them out. However, when she looked up into his face, a new emotion hit her. He looked so happy and his grey eyes were so expectant, she did not have the heart to deny him.
"Of course I would, Mr. Darcy," she said quietly, trying to smile to cover up her lie.
"Good. It is not a long way from here." He squeezed her hand and then they continued. Peter must have been in a good mood, for he chattered on about anything and everything. She asked about his business and he told her. She smiled as she heard him talk. She was impressed he would actually tell her. Once, she had made the mistake of asking her father about his business, and his reply had cut her to the core. 'Women should not concern themselves with men's work.'
She was so wrapped up in what he was saying, she did not even realize where they were heading. When Sydney decided to look up, she almost fainted dead away. She recognized everything around her, from the neighboring houses to the cracks in the street.
"Is it not marvelous? When I get older, I want to build a house exactly like this one." Peter stepped back and grinned.
Sydney kept her eyes pinned to the ground, not trusting herself to look up. She stared at Peter's feet. They were awfully big.
"Why, Miss King, you are not even looking!" he exclaimed.
Not wanting to disappoint him, she glanced up at the house. Her intent was to look for a few moments, but she could not bring herself to look away. She stared at it as if in a trance.
"I especially love those angels at the doorway. Someone told me the lady of the house had them specially made when they bought it."
It was true. Sydney's mother had put them in. Sydney had been young and when she visited the house, she grew terribly homesick and frightened. Her mother had the angels put in and told her that when she was at this house, God specifically sent down those angels to keep guard over her. Her mother, her beautiful mother...Sydney felt a rise in her throat and she needed to get away. Suppressing a sob, she looked to her right and then to her left. Mr. Darcy was still staring at the house.
Sydney knew the exact way to the Darcy's from there, so she set off in a dead run. She wanted to leave the place and never return to it's haunted shadows and memories. As she was running, she looked back one more time. It still loomed behind her, as petrifying as the first time she'd seen it as a little girl. She wanted to get away.
She only got a few feet when she ran into someone and fell straight to the ground.
"I am sorry, miss. Please allow me to help you up," a man's voice said.
Sydney stiffened in response. She knew that voice and she knew that boyishly handsome face. It was Daniel Tate.
Part Fourteen Posted on Thursday, 23 December 1999
Daniel Tate did not instantly recognize his victim. After all, the last time he had seen Sydney King she was a half dead, cowering servant. She had still been beautiful even then, however. As he helped the woman up, he noticed how much she abhorred his touch. She pulled her hand away from his as soon as her feet were back on the ground. She mumbled her thanks, but he wanted to see her face. He picked up her hand and gave it kiss. The girl gasped and immediately lifted her eyes to meet his.
They were eyes he would never be likely to forget in all of his days. Even when he had been beating her for some made up disobedience, even when he was trying to pressure her, her large, almost violet, eyes haunted him. There weren't many days when he did not go to sleep and see those same pleading, tear filled eyes staring back at him in his dreams. He would recognize them at a mere glance, and when he saw these eyes of the girl, he knew immediately who she was.
"How strange we meet again, Sydney. You are looking so very well." he let his eyes roam her up and down and he grinned with approval.
He had thought she was beautiful in rags and with bruises. She looked like a goddess to him now, with her fancy clothes and stylish hair. She was looking at him with such fright that he wanted to kiss her. What was stopping him? He could do anything he wanted to her. She had run away, but she still belonged to him.
"Aren't you happy to see me, Syd? You've found me at last." With that, he pulled her roughly into his embrace and all but crushed her against him. She was going to belong to him if it was the last thing he ever accomplished. She had easily become his new obsession and he never let his obsessions quit. He was bringing his lips closer to hers and watching her wonderful eyes at the same time. At first they were surprised, but then they turned to fear, then to hate, then back to fear. She started to struggle. She pushed against him, stepped on his feet, and clawed at his face. Her fingernails met the vulnerable skin of his cheek and he was surprised she had not drawn blood.
"I always like a good fight, Sydney," he grinned, and then closed his mouth over hers.
She was still fighting the whole way, but it was harmless until she bit down on his lip. Daniel drew away, testing to see if there was blood. When he saw some, his lightheartedness went away and he became angry. He could tell Sydney recognized his change, for she shrunk back in fear. Her moment of impertinence was finished and she was back to her normal self.
"You...you--" he started to say, while raising his hand. Just as he was about to connect with her skin, a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back. Daniel looked up in surprise and the sight made his blood go cold.
"Darcy!" he gasped, grimacing in pain as Peter gripped his arm tighter.
Peter looked at Sydney. She looked like she was going to faint at any second. He couldn't believe what a fool he had been. He had simply assumed that the man was an acquaintance when he saw them talking. He had looked back at the house one more time before starting to walk over to the pair. When he had looked back to them one second later, the vile man had Sydney in his grasp and was trying to violate her. He had arrived just in time to stop him from slapping Sydney. Peter was not sure what he would have done if the man had, but he knew that he would not have stopped until the man was not able to hurt anyone else.
"How do you know me?" Peter demanded.
"I went to Cambridge with you. Don't you remember, old sport?" the man tried to become friends with Peter, but Peter just squeezed the wrist tighter.
"No, I do not remember. Who are you and what did you think you were doing to Miss King?" he asked, glancing at Sydney again to make sure she was all right.
"I am Daniel Tate and Miss King and I were just renewing an old acquaintance." the man smiled.
Anger hit Peter as soon as the man mentioned his name. Daniel Tate. He was the bastard who had beaten Sydney. He had vowed to get even with the abuser, and here was his chance. He could call a duel. It did not happen as often anymore, but it still could be done. Peter had been finely instructed. He knew he would win. He was about to utter the changeling words, when he felt a feather light touch on his arm. He looked down to see Sydney staring back up at him, pleading silently with her eyes.
"Please just leave him be, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe he will bother me again." she said softly.
Peter was torn. He looked between Sydney's petitioning face and Mr. Tate's snarling one. He wanted to make Daniel sorry he had ever touched Sydney. His fist was curling at the thought, and he knew if he did not let him go soon, he would. His decision was made a moment later when his father's carriage happened to come around the corner.
"Miss King, please get in the carriage. I will join you in just a few moments." Peter said tersely, keeping his eyes on Daniel Tate the whole time. He saw Sydney nod out of the corner of his eye and step into the carriage. He heard his father's voice talking to her, and prayed that he would let Peter fight this battle on his own.
"Sydney belongs to me, Darcy. You took her from me without paying," Daniel sneered.
"I am afraid not, sir. Miss King and I have an arranged marriage and I will be marrying her before my twenty fourth birthday."
"She does not belong to you yet," the man persisted.
"She will." His words were like steel. "Do not touch her again."
With that, he shoved the man onto the ground and limbered into the carriage. He sat down across from Sydney. She would not look him in the eye and as he watched her, one lone tear made a path down her cheek.
"Miss King, he will not bother you again. I made sure of it." Peter tried to reassure her.
She sniffed and finally looked at him. "I thank you for trying, Mr. Darcy, but I have learned that just about everything from my past will bother me sometime in my future."
The rest of the ride home was silent. When they reached the townhouse, Sydney went straight to her room. Peter's father turned to him and asked him to come to his study. Peter followed obediently. Mrs. Darcy tried to speak with her husband, but he motioned to Peter and to the study door. After years of marriage, Elizabeth knew what that motion meant. Once they were settled, Peter waited for the questioning.
"Was that Mr. Tate, I presume?" came the first.
Peter nodded yes.
"What exactly transpired, son?" Fitzwilliam Darcy asked, solemnly.
Peter recounted what he had seen and could tell his father was getting angrier by each word. When the story was finished, his father got up and started to pace. After several walks across the room and back, he finally spoke.
"I need you to find out more about her past. I know it is a delicate subject, but I wish to know what happened to a good friend of mine. I simply assumed he had been out of the country after his wife died, but I did not think he was dead."
Peter had not known that her mother had died. In fact, he really knew nothing of her past and knew that was because she kept it hidden. She was not going to tell him anything on her own, unless perhaps they were married. However, he did not intend to take things that far. He did not want to get married, and he was convinced that she did not want to marry him.
"Father, I know that you want to know. I do also, but Miss King will not tell me. Besides, we have decided to get out of this arrangement. There must be some way since we do not want it. If both her parents are dead, as you assume, they have no say. However, you do. Cannot you denounce this arrangement?" Peter asked.
His father was surprised. "I heard what you told that despicable man. You told him you were going to marry her."
"I certainly was not going to tell him the truth. He would probably kidnap her while my back is turned," he muttered, with a few curse words attached to Tate's name.
"Have you talked to Miss King about this?" his father asked.
Peter shrugged. "Why would she want to marry me?"
His father gave him a pointed look. "Peter, think about what you just said. Sydney King is a woman with no family, no means, and nowhere to live. I believe something has happened to her that will plague her the rest of her life. Of course she would want to marry you. Whether she would or not is the question."
"What are you talking about, father?" Peter asked, thoroughly confused.
"Although we may all think Miss King to be below us, the truth is that she was raised in as much finery as you or I. She is a very gentle lady, and I feel wrong to marry you. I overheard a conversation she was having with your sister today. She was asking if there was a special woman in your life."
"Why would she ask something like that?"
"She probably feels guilty that you are being forced to marry her. Even though she probably wants this marriage, she knows she might be ruining your future along with it, and that makes her want to decline." When he was done explaining, he let Peter dwell on his words.
Peter did not know quite what he felt. He knew he had some sort of duty to marry Sydney, but he really did not want to. He did not plan on marrying until much later in his life. A wife simply complicated matters. He stood up.
"I suppose I should make sure she is well."
"Tell her we plan on leaving tomorrow morning. After that rendezvous, I do not have the heart to stay in London one moment longer."
Peter took the stairs up to her room and knocked on the door. When he heard her soft permission, he entered the room. She was looking out the window and she seemed to be in another world. That world seemed to be tormenting her, by the haunted look on her face.
"Hello, Mr. Darcy. I want to properly thank you for what you did earlier." she said so soft, he could barely hear.
"It was nothing, Miss King," he told her.
She looked at him and smiled slightly. "Oh, but it was." She sighed and looked out the window again. This time, it seemed she could not keep the tears from coming. She wiped them quickly and looked up at Peter guiltily.
"I am sorry, sir. It seems whenever you catch me I always decide to cry. I am not usually like this...but it's... everything." she paused to wave her arms around at all that was outside her window.
"Would you like to share your problems, Miss King?" Peter asked.
He could not believe he had asked her that. He was Peter Darcy, the man who did not care about others feelings. He did not even care about his own sister's troubles half the time. Human problems were so time consuming. Yet, here he was, ready to listen to Sydney pour out her life story.
She laughed in a strange and almost frightening way. "You can save me from Daniel Tate, Peter, but you cannot save me from my past." She turned back to the window. When she looked at him again, a change had come about her. She had turned stony again, and her eyes were dry.
"I have been thinking, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe marriage would be in the best interest of either of us. I am going to talk to your father about having the arrangement removed," she said this without looking him in the face.
"Is this what you want?" he asked, in surprise.
"Is that what you want?" she asked, telling him with her eyes to be truthful.
He nodded, slowly and hesitantly, watching for her reaction the whole time.
"Then it is what I want, also. I will speak to him directly," she stood up and started to cross the room. When she reached Peter, she stopped and looked up at him. She took one of his hands into her own. Hers were so cold and so small.
"Thank you for showing me such kindness. You...You have made me feel safe."
She gave his hand a squeeze and went out the door, closing it softly behind her. Part of him wanted to call out to her and stop her, tell her that he did want to marry her. He would grab her in his arms and kiss her nose and then stare into her violet eyes. But he knew he would not. That was not him. He did not want that. They would be happy for a few days, perhaps, but then the happiness would wane. They would both live miserably. Him, because he did not want marriage and her, because she would feel guilty she had forced him to marry her. No, it would not work. He forced himself out of her room. He suddenly needed a walk.