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Sydney scrunched her nose as the smell of the onions filled her nostrils. She had a headache, she was weary, and the onions were making her sick to her stomach. Mrs. Andrews smiled next to her, and Sydney went on.
"Sydney, dear, will you please go take a nap? You have been working non stop for several days now."
"Mrs. Andrews, why should you be forced to work extra for this guest?" Sydney sniffed. "If I had known the work it constituted for the servants, I would never have invited any guests."
Mrs. Andrews laughed. "I do not believe you ever did."
Sydney shrugged and began chopping the onions again. She was careful where she cut, since her index finger had already taken a slice.
"Tell me about these Darcy's you lived with, Sydney. My sister-in-law used to work there and she told me they were the most delightful family."
"Oh yes, they are! Of course, I am sure any family is better than your present one, ma'am."
"This has not always been the family I worked under, Sydney."
Sydney's face darkened and Mrs. Andrews quickly changed the subject.
"You were going to tell me about the family..." she started.
As she suspected, Sydney's countenance brightened and she was smiling just at the thought of them.
"Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are very much in love, but it is obvious that Elizabeth has the upper hand in the relationship. Mr. Darcy, I believe, is afraid of making her mad." she chuckled. "They are a very striking pair and extremely nice. Mr. Darcy was a little unapproachable at first, and I was a little scared of him, but he turned out to be a nice man. Mrs. Darcy was wonderful also. She has so much energy!"
Mrs. Andrews smiled. "And the children? I have heard that the boys are quite handsome. I have not heard much about the daughter, but I assume that she is just as handsome, as well."
"Oh, yes," Sydney laughed. "The two younger boys are Jonathan and Ben. Jonathan is studying to become a clergyman and he will make a good one. He has his virtues straight. However, there is this little spark to him that makes me wonder if he will ever be content preaching in a church one day a week. He and I had many discussions on religion." Sydney stopped and then smiled again. "Actually, he had many discussions on religion. I simply listened."
"He sounds like a wonderful boy."
"Yes, he is. He is very handsome, somewhat tall with pleasing features. All the Darcy's are handsome. I think it is an unwritten rule at birth."
"What about the next boy, Ben, I believe you said?" Mrs. Andrews pressed on.
Not only was the kindly lady making Sydney forget about the horrid onions they had to cut, she was getting a first hand view of her relationships with the Darcy's- especially, she hoped, with the eldest.
"Ben is quite a character. I saw him around many people and he was not the slightest bit inhibited, but for some reason I scared him a little. Whenever he was with Jonathan, as he often was for they were inseparable, you know, Ben could talk with me perfectly fine. When he was with me alone..." Sydney stopped and glanced up at Mrs. Andrews with a faint blush beginning on her cheeks. "We were not alone, of course, just when he was speaking to me without anyone with him, he was quiet. He stuttered a lot and sometimes he even blushed. I could never figure out why."
Sydney laughed. "I must be intimidating."
"Hardly, my dear," Mrs. Andrews added her laughter. Obviously the young girl did not know the affect she had on the opposite sex.
"That is exactly what Peter said to me."
"Peter? The eldest?" she tried to prod gently.
Sydney nodded, but did not catch the hint. "Then there is Liza. You would have to meet Liza to really understand what she is like."
"I do not understand."
Sydney blew out a breath. "Liza is a whirlwind. She is kind and generous on one hand, and then on the other she can be quite uncontrollable. She is a little...immature, but I believe that will pass. She is naturally tenacious, but there is something else...." She paused for a moment. She had never really taken the time to seriously ponder why Liza acted the way she did.
"Liza has this impossible dream of becoming a physician. I say impossible, but one will never know in concern with Liza... I think she acts a little vulgar sometimes to prove that she can."
Sydney flashed her elder a rueful grin. "I suppose you do not care to hear about this all?"
"Why, no, actually. It is quite interesting. Aren't you leaving someone out?" the older lady prodded again, this time not so subtly.
"Just Peter."
"I would like to hear about Peter, Sydney, if that is all right."
Sydney nodded slowly and then sighed. How did one go about with explaining Peter Darcy?
"Peter is tall...extremely tall. I barely come to his shoulder, if that far. He is also handsome. He has dark hair that always seems tousled. He could come down to dinner and it will be just as messy as when he comes back from a hunt. Very strange, wouldn't you say?"
"Mm." was all Mrs. Andrews allowed herself.
"His eyes are a blue...sometimes."
"Sometimes, dear?" she asked with a laugh.
"They can also be gray. When he is happy and smiling, which at first he never did, his eyes are a very pale blue, almost like ice. However, when he is angry- he has a frightful temper- they turn this steely gray. It is quite fascinating."
"How did you two get along?"
"At first not well at all. One day we had a huge fight and after that day we got on famously. He has a wonderful sense of humor and he can be quite caring when he puts his mind to it. Those first few days when I was so sick, he was so comforting and saw to my every need. He is not like any man I have ever known.
"Sometimes I want to scream at him, sometimes I want to laugh at him, sometimes I want to hug him, and other times I want to punch him. I..."
Finally, the words she was saying caught up to her brain and her voice cracked. She put her head down quickly, as she could already feel the hot tears threatening to spill over.
"He sounds like a wonderful lad." Mrs. Andrews paused. "Do you love him, Sydney?"
Instantly, her young head was up. Her eyes were wide and seemed frightened.
"Love him? I...I...It would not matter if I did. He would never love me."
Sydney stood suddenly. "May I be excused, ma'am?"
Mrs. Andrews nodded and stood up also. "I think we are done here. Why don't you go to your room and rest for a little while? We can spare you for a few moments, I assure you."
Sydney had no heart to argue with her, as a wave of fatigue had suddenly overcome her. However, as she was making her way up the stairs, a voice caught her immediate attention. She stiffened in response.
"Our deal is still on, then?"
"Yes. You can have Sydney if we get the money and property that go along with her." her uncle said.
"She is all I want. I have enough property. When can we get married?"
"Such haste, young man, such haste." her aunt laughed.
"I want her." his voice was steely and left no room for any refute.
"A marriage will take place as soon as I get a clergyman here. In the meantime, you can spend some quality time with our niece."
The laugh was brutal and chilling.
"Gladly. I have been waiting for this moment ever since she slipped out of my grasp in London. You have my most hearty appreciation for getting Darcy out of the way."
"It was quite easy. He had no real affection for Sydney in the long run."
"He better not. I am to be the only man who will every have affection for her."
Sydney's whole body had clenched. There were tears running down her face, but she did not notice. Daniel Tate was here to marry her. She quickly made her way up to her room and locked the door, shoving a dresser in front of it also. The thought of Tate touching her made her want to retch. She could already feel the bile in her throat. How would she ever get out of this?
This time was different. She had no white knight to come whisk her away like she had in London. Peter was resting comfortably in Derbyshire, Sydney completely out of his mind. Sydney took a deep, shuddering breath. She would get out of this mess, and there was only one thing for her to do....Run.
Why had he ever come to London in the first place? His father claimed to need his help desperately, but as soon as they had arrived, Fitzwilliam Darcy had left his eldest son to fend for himself. Peter had met with a couple of his friends for a few days, but he could not seem to enjoy things as much as they. Peter was not an incredible social person, but he did like seeing his friends usually. Even they couldn't get him out of his funk this time.
"What is the matter, Darce?" Henry Tilney, oldest son of Catherine Tilney, asked.
Peter shrugged and took another swig of the drink in front of him. When Catherine Tilney had found out that Fitzwilliam and Peter were also in London, she had immediately sent Henry to fetch them. His father was always unable to attend, so Peter came himself. Henry was a friend of his and Mrs. Tilney amused him.
"I was sorry I could not attend your engagement ball," Henry remarked. When Peter popped his head, Henry mentally berated himself.
"My family missed you," Peter simply returned, but took a huge drink.
"My mother told me Sydney was a dear girl," he proceeded with caution, "I just wanted you to know how my family was impressed with her."
Peter nodded. "Thank you." he said tersely.
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence as Henry and Peter stared everywhere but at each other. Finally, Peter broke the silence. He had always considered Henry a good friend, probably his greatest. His brothers and Eric were nice and all, but Henry always seemed to have a better grip on reality. He was more mature, more grown up than either of the three. Henry was the one to go to when there was a problem.
"Henry, I have a problem."
Henry nodded, knowing this was true. He had wondered how long Peter would take before he spilled his guts, so to speak. He knew his friend and naturally assumed it would take him awhile. Peter proved this to be true.
"It's Sydney."
Henry paused, waiting for him to expound on the obvious. Instead, Peter finished off his drink and took a deep breath, as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest.
"Would you like to elaborate, Peter?"
"What is there to elaborate about? I have a problem and my problem is Sydney King." Peter looked at Henry like he was a fool.
"Would you like to explain exactly why Sydney is a problem for you?" Henry asked, trying to keep his patience. Sometimes Peter could act like a five year old. It was easier getting answers from his three year old niece than it was from this grown man.
"My problem?" Peter stopped and thought a little. "Why, her aunt and uncle have hold of her and they just want her for her money."
"Why don't you simply go to her house, take her away, and marry her? Many men have married for much less." Henry pointed out the obvious.
"I was willing to- to...marry her," he said with a slight shudder at the word, "but there was some reason why she could not."
"Did she tell you the reason?" Henry asked, getting up and refilling Peter's glass.
Peter eyed his friend. "If she told me the reason, do you really think I would be sitting here talking to you? No offense," he thought to add.
"None taken." Henry sat back down and glanced at Peter. "Had you gained her confidence?"
"I suppose. I mean, we grew close over the time. Both my brothers were gone and I really had no one to speak with. We got along well and we talked about many things. Sydney is, however, a very different person from any other female we know."
Henry chuckled. "I doubt that. You have met my mother after all."
"No, no- I do not mean strange..." he stopped, realized what he had said, "Granted though, I love your mother. I really do. She is a gem and when I said strange, I meant it in a..."
Henry was laughing by this time. "Peter, you do not have to explain a single thing. My mother is strange. I know that, my father knows that, my brothers and sisters know that. She is. I gather you meant different in another way."
"Yes. Sydney has not had what you would call an easy life." At Henry's nod, he assumed Mrs. Tilney had told her son about what she knew of Sydney. "There is still something from the past that haunts her. She will not tell me what it is."
Peter swallowed half his drink in one gulp and slammed the glass down. Henry could not help but notice his eyes had turned that tell-tale angry gray. He looked ready to beat the stuffing out of someone.
"I suppose you are a little angry about this?" Henry asked, trying to keep a smile in check.
Peter nodded. "If only she would tell me what her problem is! Does she actually think I am that shallow to hold it against her now?"
"Ah, so that is it." Henry said.
"Hmm?" Peter asked, only half listening. He still could not believe Sydney did not trust him enough to share her troubles. After all, he was the one who saved her life. She owed him that.
"Your problem is that you do not want her seeing you in a bad light." Henry did not hide his grin now.
Peter gave Henry his complete attention. "What? That, my chum, is insane. I am angry because she will not tell me. If she did, I could help her out."
"Yes, I am sure that is part of your anger. But you just do not want her to see you as the bad guy, do you?" Henry laughed.
"She does not see me as the bad guy. Believe me, she knows a lot worse." Peter scowled.
"Worse than you? Unthinkable." Henry grinned his heartbreaking grin that kept all the ladies swooning.
"Do you know Daniel Tate?" Peter asked.
Henry stopped and thought. "Yes, I think. Mean fellow, kind of tall, lanky, surly?"
"That is him." Peter finished off his drink and scowled at it.
"He is the bad guy?"
Peter nodded and clenched up his fists.
"I have not heard good things about him, Peter. In fact..." Henry hesitated.
"What?" Peter asked, sitting up taller.
"I was with one of my friends a few days ago and we decided to get a drink in a club. Tate was in there, obviously inebriated, and he was talking."
"About what?"
"I am getting to it. He was bragging about some rich girl he was going to marry."
"That could be anyone in all of England." Peter scoffed, his heart starting to beat faster.
"Yes, well, he said he had worked a deal out with her relatives. They keep the girl's money if they got rid of a pesky problem for him."
Peter's heart dropped down to his throat. He could not be talking about Sydney, could he? He would not believe it. Tate could have been talking about anyone...with horrible relatives who were only after money. He, himself, was probably the pesky problem Tilney had referred to. Peter stood up out of his chair.
"Did he say anything else, Henry?" he asked anxiously.
"Only that he would not let her slip out of his grasp this time, since she already had twice...Where are you going?" Henry called out as he watched his friend stalk out the door.
Peter was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he forgot about his carriage, and just started walking down the street. He felt stiff, as if his muscles did not want to work correctly. His heart was pounding in his ears. He had never been so frightened in his entire life.
He remembered the brief encounter he had had with Tate in London. Recalling the image of Sydney entrapped in his arms made him sick. The thought of her married to the bastard made him red with rage. He breathed deeply and told himself to get control. For all he knew, Tate was already married to Sydney. He hoped not. How he hoped not.
When Peter finally stopped and looked around he realized he was in front of his favorite house, close to where Tate had found Sydney. Just the sight of the angels in the front calmed his nerves and reminded him to say a silent prayer. As he was taking one last look, he heard a voice from behind him.
"May I help you, sir?" an old female voice asked.
Peter turned to see an older lady, still very grand.
"No, ma'am, I was just admiring your house. I have always loved it." Peter smiled.
"Yes, it is very lovely. I am proud to call it mine." she started up to the house.
"I especially love the angels," he said quickly, before she could step in. "That was a wonderful idea to put them in."
"Yes, they are beautiful, but I did not put them in. The family before me, the King's, had them added."
Peter practically choked. "The Kings?"
"Yes, it is a funny story. Mrs. King put them in because her youngest daughter was afraid of the London house. The angels were supposed to remind the young girl that angels were watching over her." The lady chuckled. "Good night, sir."
"Good night, ma'am" he muttered.
The girl had to be Sydney. What Tilney had told him had to be true. There were too many coincidences and now this...Was it a sign? Peter did not know, but something did not feel right. He turned and started to run.
The sooner he made it to his house, the better. He would leave first thing in the morning. He did not know exactly what to do, but anything was better than staying in London. He would do something to help Sydney, he had to. He only hoped she had not done something stupid- like run.
Sydney paced her room- back and forth, back and forth. She had figured a plan in her mind and she knew she had to strike soon. Daniel Tate was expected back in a matter of days and Sydney knew she had to be out by then. She was not going to put herself in a position where she was prey for him.
Tonight, she decided with a determined intake of a breath. She would leave late tonight. Her aunt and uncle did not know that she knew about their agreement with Tate. They obviously had no worries that she would try to escape. After all, they thought they had Sydney cornered. They did, in reality, but Sydney was still going to escape.
She would leave under the cover of the night. She had several things in her room that would be worth a large amount of money. She would bring several suitable changes of clothes. Sydney knew her way around the house. She could easily find her way to the main road and she would follow it from there. She planned on changing her name and her age, too. Her aunt and uncle might tell the secrets of her family, but there would be no Sydney King left to hear of it.
A knock on her door made her gasp, she was so lost in her thoughts. She walked to the door and hesitantly asked who it was.
"Mrs. Andrews, dear."
Sydney opened up the door quickly and the older lady came in.
"Sydney, I was up in the attic finding things we could give away to the poor, when I found this." Mrs. Andrews pulled open a small box and Sydney stopped breathing.
"I don't know what it was doing up there. It is too beautiful to be hidden. I know it was your mother's and so should rightfully be yours..." the woman stopped as she looked down at Sydney.
Sydney could not stop staring at the diamond cross. It had been her mother's favorite necklace and she had never replaced it for anything fancier.
'Why should I take it off? I need to be reminded of God's love at parties, too.'
As a little girl, Sydney had always admired the way the diamonds sparkled in the sunlight and how beautiful it had made her mother look. She could not wait until she was old enough to wear it herself. Looking back, Sydney thought bitterly, that time had come far too soon.
After her mother died, the whole house had been in mourning. Her father locked himself in his study and would not come out. Sydney, at that time, was thirteen years old. She was young and she was confused with what was happening around her. Her mother, her dear mother, was gone- already buried into the ground. Her father might as well have been. He was not buried in a tomb, he was buried into himself. Sydney felt so alone, so isolated, so sad.
Then she had found her mother's cross. It had brought a smile to her face. Just looking at it brought a memory of her beautiful woman with a wonderful smile on her face. Sydney just did not want to be alone any longer. She put the cross on. It had been a mistake.
That was the first day her father had ventured out of his study. He frightened Sydney. He had not changed clothes in over two weeks. His breath smelled of alcohol and his eyes were bloodshot. He tried to smile at his only child, but then he saw the necklace.
'What are you wearing?' he had asked.
Sydney was so frightened, she could not answer. She could not even look at her father. This, for some reason, angered him beyond belief and he grabbed the necklace and yanked it off, breaking the precious gold chain. When Sydney had cried out, he had taken back his hand and slapped her. She was used to it now, but that was the first time anyone had taken a hand to her. Her father had immediately broken down, grabbing her in his arms and crushing her in his embrace, all the while whispering his apologies and kissing her hair.
Sydney did not know what to think about her new Papa. Papa before had meant rides on horses, and special pieces of candy, and hugs and stories. She did not like this new Papa, but she could not be angry. She had created him.
"Sydney? Are you all right?"
Sydney was brought back to the present with Mrs. Andrews voice.
"I do not want that. Put it back where you found it." When Mrs. Andrews did not move, Sydney all but shouted, "Now!"
If Mrs. Andrews was taken aback, she did not show it. She simply inclined her head and headed down the hall. Sydney shut her door quickly. Tonight, she told herself again. She would certainly leave tonight. By tomorrow she would have left all these memories, these feelings, this guilt behind. She would be a new person. She began packing her bag.
The rest of the day passed in a blur to Sydney. She helped with the meals and the cleaning, but she was in such an agitated state, she hardly knew what she was doing. By the time night came, and she was ready to go to her room, she could hardly stay in one place. As she started to go up the stairs, a voice stopped her.
"Sydney, will you come here, please?"
Sydney obeyed and walked over to stand by Mrs. Andrews, who was putting out the fire in the kitchen.
"You are a dear girl, Sydney, although you may not think so yourself."
"Thank you," Sydney said in embarrassment.
Mrs. Andrews took Sydney's hands in her own and gave them a squeeze.
"Do you know how to defend yourself, dearest?"
Sydney thought the question was strange, but answered anyway.
"One day, after I had recovered, Benjamin and Jonathan taught me. They heard about what happened to me and did not want me to be defenseless."
"Good." Sydney started to turn away, but Mrs. Andrews stopped her once more. She wrapped Sydney in a hug and squeezed tight. "Do be careful, Sydney."
She let Sydney go and gave her a little push up the stairs. Once in her room, she began to pace again. Did Mrs. Andrews know of her plan to escape? Obviously she did. One did not need to be careful in sleep. How had the dear woman ever figured it out? Sydney knew she could be trusted, however, and was not worried in that aspect.
Her thoughts unconsciously slipped to Peter. What was he doing at this very moment? He was not asleep, for she knew he liked to go to bed late. He was probably up playing cards with either of his brothers, or reading a book. Most likely he was playing cards, since he did not often read. Was he thinking of her? Sydney shook her head at that ridiculous thought. She did not care one way or another if he was or not.
Sydney double checked her belongings and sat on her bed, waiting. She figured to leave around early morning. Servants were up before dawn, so Sydney decided to leave an hour before they usually got up. She wanted to sleep, but did not know if she would be able to wake up in time to leave. Her drowsiness won out, though, and she was soon asleep.
She awoke suddenly in the dead of night. Not knowing what noise had woken her up, she lit a candle and glanced at her clock. It was time for her to be going! She grabbed her bag, made her bed out of habit, and opened her door carefully. She was happy that Mrs. Andrews had settled Sydney in her old room. She had the whole side of the house to herself. Just to be careful, she still walked silently down the stairs. She had decided to go out the door in the kitchen the day before, so she tread silently in. She was rummaging through her bag to grab her candle, when suddenly a match was lit and a candle burned brightly.
"Well, what do we have here?"
The sound of the voice almost made Sydney scream or drop her bag- or both. She could see Daniel's face by the light of his candle. It cast an eerie glow on his pale skin. She shuddered and tried to move, but she seemed paralyzed. When he stalked towards her, she still could not move. By the time he was ten feet away from her, she had willed her feet into moving. She had just about reached the kitchen door, when Daniel slid in front of her and leaned on the door.
"Trying to run away, Sydney?" he asked, lazily. "That's not very nice."
Sydney tried to control her breathing. "Get away from the door."
"What did you say? Get away from the door? That is not the way to treat your betrothed, is it?"
With those words, he blew out the candle. A soft darkness filled the room. Before her eyes could adjust, she heard a movement to her right. She turned that way and strained to see Daniel Tate, but by then she heard a noise to her left.
Oh, God, please help me!
"No one is going to help you now," the voice came from right behind her.
She realized she was thinking aloud and willed herself to gain control.
"Please," she swallowed, "please let me go."
"I don't have you, yet." he whispered into her ear.
Sydney's skin crawled as she ran towards the kitchen door. She pulled on the handle with all her might, but it would not budge. Realizing he must have locked it, she reached down to turn the key. By the time she had the door open, it was slammed shut with a more powerful force. She heard the lock click and wanted to burst into tears.
"Do you want the key?" a voice asked, waiting for her to go in hysterics.
She did not disappoint him, though she willed herself not to. She started pulling on the door, trying to open it. When it would not budge she started kicking it. She finally collapsed onto the door, crying. She wondered why Daniel had not grabbed her but then realized he was so sick that he enjoyed watching her desperation. If she could only get to the other door.
After several moments of silence, Sydney decided she had nothing to lose. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the moonlight streaming in through small window helped guide her. She counted to three in her head and then bolted to the door. Just as she reached it, she felt two arms grab hold of her. She suppressed the urge to scream, for she did not want to have the entire household down here. She would let Daniel do whatever he wanted to her and then she would still be able to escape.
She still battled hard with him, squirming and kicking. She connected with his shin a few times and had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt in pain. She wanted to claw at his face but she was turned the wrong way. Suddenly she was thrown against the wall.
"Stay still," Tate muttered, placing his hands on either side of her head.
Sydney purposely did the opposite. She kicked, hit, and scratched until Daniel grabbed her chin and flung her head back onto the door. She was momentarily stopped for the impact surprised her. In that moment, Daniel leaned in closer and pressed his lips to her upper neck. Her stupor instantly disappeared as she regained consciousness of what he was doing. She could not help the shudder that shook her whole body.
"You cannot know how long I have waited for this moment," he stated as he moved to her earlobe.
"You are so beautiful...and your eyes..." he muttered as he kissed a trail to her lips.
By this time Sydney wanted to scream, but his mouth was covering hers. She felt the tears rolling down her face and wanted more than anything to wipe them away. He was disgusting. She tried to turn her face away from him, but he grabbed her chin in an unyielding grip. The tears came faster. His hands were everywhere...and she just wanted him to disappear!
When she felt him start unbuttoning her dress, her brain came into action. You know how to get out of this! she told herself over and over again as she tried to gain control of her body. She started kissing Daniel Tate back and the result was exactly what she wanted. His grip lessened and he became less aware of her. She took that moment to swiftly bring up her knee. He made a grunting noise and bent over. She took advantage of the moment and brought her right fist to his face with all her might. He fell over, rolled into the fetal position, and groaned with pain.
Sydney did not waste one moment. Grabbing her bag, she yanked open the kitchen door and ran outside. She did not stop running until she could no longer see the house. Then she took a moment to catch her breath. She veered off into the forest and clung to a tree- crying, sobbing, getting a hold of her emotions. She fell asleep, using her bag as her pillow.
When she awoke, the sun had just come up. She did not feel refreshed after her nap, but knew she had to get up anyway. She was hungry and tired and her jaw hurt from where Daniel had gripped her. After walking for several hours, she realized how stupid she was in leaving. She would die out here on the road.
Now, Sydney, do not start feeling sorry for yourself. At least it is not raining.
Ten minutes later, she cursed herself for jinxing the rain. Buckets were falling down in cold, piercing sheets. Each individual raindrop felt like a little knife poking her skin. She walked on. She had passed only one carriage and they had not paid her the least bit of attention.
All too soon it was night. Her feet were sore. She had gotten blisters that had already popped and were painful even without the many miles of traveling. She had not eaten since the dinner before and that being only a meager servant's portion. Her stomach had at first growled, then was empty, but now was simply a severe pain. She was wet and it was freezing, with the wind and rain. She wanted to simply stop and die. In fact, if she had a gun with her that second... No, she would never venture down that road again.
Sydney kept on traveling until finally her body could not continue. Her body stopped functioning and she fell down into the muddy road, unconscious.
Peter sat back in the seat of his carriage and sighed. He had a horrible headache. It felt like he had been in the carriage for days, when reality it had only been hours. He had wanted to leave right away but his father had been using the carriage on business. Peter had waited until late in the night for his father to come home. He knew his parents would be angry if he had just left, even if he was twenty three and could take care of himself. His mother was quite overprotective and had taught her husband to be the same way. Peter was forced to wait until the morning to leave. He only hoped he was not too late.
Just as he was starting to drift off, a large estate came into view. Peter whistled to himself as he took Sydney's home in. He was quite prejudiced in thinking Pemberley was the most beautiful estate in London. However, this home rivaled it greatly. The rain had ceased and the sun was poking through the clouds, casting a pleasant glow on the grounds. The grass was a ripe green and perfectly landscaped. He was so busy looking at the grounds, he almost missed the horse and rider coming out to meet him.
His driver stopped the carriage and Peter took that opportunity to open up the door and step out. The man was little than a boy, no older than fourteen. Peter struck quite a figure to the young man, who seemed to be trembling.
"May I inquire after your name, sir?" he asked in a squeak.
"May I inquire who wants to know, boy?" Peter grinned.
"My mother, sir. She sent me out to greet every visitor."
"And why is that?"
"We have had some t-trouble at the house, sir, and my mama needs to know who comes and goes around here."
"I assume the Master of the house does not know any of these goings ons?" Peter grilled.
"N-no, sir, but he never does." the boy paused, seemed to get up his strength and then asked again, "May I have your name, sir?"
Peter decided to enlighten the poor fellow. His mother sounded like a clever sort of woman- one who would help him get Sydney back.
"Mr. Darcy," Peter said, bowing at the boy in fun.
The young man started to get excited then.
"Mr. Peter Darcy?"
"In the flesh."
The boy suddenly broke into a grin that literally went from one side of his face to the other. In his excitement, he grabbed Peter's hand in a surprisingly strong grip. Peter laughed at his enthusiasm, but then stopped. A year or two ago, he would never have laughed when a servant dared to grab his hand as if they were equals. At this moment, however, it amused him. Had Sydney changed his view on everything?
"Sir, you must speak with my mother quickly. It concerns Miss King," the boy said.
With those words, Peter wanted to run to this woman. Sydney had to be in trouble or this woman would not be needing to speak with him so urgently. The boy had mounted his horse and was riding away, calling over his shoulder to wait and his mother would meet him. Peter assumed it was not safe to speak with her in the house, since her son had stopped him so far away from the actual entrance.
Within ten minutes, Peter looked up to see an older woman walking towards him. She was obviously a servant by her dress, but she held herself up in such a regal manner, Peter felt he was looking at an heiress. She had once been a beautiful woman, but was now older, with a few wrinkles and graying hair. She had a grim look on her face but greeted him with a curtsy and a smile.
"Mr. Darcy, I presume," she said in a very educated voice.
Peter nodded his head. "Your son mentioned Miss King and I-"
"Sydney is gone."
Peter stopped talking and looked at her. "Gone, ma'am?"
The woman sighed. "Are you acquainted with Daniel Tate, sir?"
"Oh God." Peter felt like the world was caving in.
"I suppose you do. Yesterday morning I walked in to the kitchen to find Mr. Tate nursing a black eye," the woman started.
"He attacked her, did he not?"
"I do not know the particulars, mind you, but I can only assume that she was trying to escape and in the process, he caught her. I do not know what transpired between that time and when I walked in on him, but I suppose she punched him in self-defense and ran away."
"Is Tate still here?" Peter all but growled.
"No, he is not. Not only did he not want to face the embarrassment of his injury, he immediately wanted to search for Sydney."
Panic hit Peter full throttle in the chest. He could scarcely catch a breath it so overwhelmed him. He had to get to Sydney before Tate did or who knew what she would befall.
"I took the liberty of sending my oldest son to lead him, since he does not know the area. I sent them in the wrong direction. They left in the mid-morning yesterday and are still continuing that way. I believe you will be able to catch Sydney before they do."
"I will leave right away." He started to turn and enter his carriage, but then remembered his manners.
"I thank you, Mrs..."
"Andrews. Keep her safe, Mr. Darcy. That girl deserves it."
Peter nodded in agreement and stepped into his carriage. Before the driver started, something dawned on Peter. Poking his head through the window, he asked, "How did you know which way she was traveling, Mrs. Andrews?"
The elder lady smiled thinly. "I was watching."
The carriage went into motion before he could ask any other questions. Mrs. Andrews pointed down a road and the driver, familiar with it, started out. Soon, Peter recognized the route. He was surprised to find how close her estate was to Pemberley. Peter closed his eyes and tried to fully grasp all that had happened.
Henry Tilney had told him of how Tate was to marry Sydney and that had sent him into a rage. He had left to come get her, but he was too late. Only Sydney and Tate knew what happened between the time he had her in his grasp and when she had hit him. Oh, God. He had already seen him maul her in public and he could only guess what he wanted to do to her behind closed doors. Just the mere thought of him with his dirty hands on Sydney sent shivers down his spine.
The driver seemed to understand the importance of their ride and he was taking the horses at a neck-breaking speed. A soft rain started to come from the skies and the thought of Sydney out alone in this was driving his nerves crazy. He silently cursed himself. If he had simply married her when he had the chance, none of this would have happened. He had obviously done something to make Sydney leery of telling him her secrets. Whatever Daniel Tate had to do with them, Peter was going to get rid of that problem. Once he found Sydney and had her home and comfortable, he would personally see that Daniel Tate never bothered her again. Jail was not on the top of his list.
The rain was causing Peter to get sleepy since he had not slept a wink the night before. As his eyes were closing, a familiar color of blue caught his attention. He sat up straighter in his seat, fully awake and squinting through the rain. When the carriage drew closer, there was no doubt in his mind. Knocking on the walls, the carriage stopped. Peter jumped from the carriage, ran to the lifeless form on the very side of the road, and scooped her up in his arms. He was back in shelter in a matter of moments.
He felt an extreme sense of deja vu as he looked down at her slumbering form. Her face was pale again. Her lips were blue and her fingers like ice. He saw an ugly bruise on her chin in the tell tale figure of fingertips. Her dress was wet and muddy and for the first time in his life Peter Darcy wanted to cry.
Sydney had come so far since he had first caught sight of her. She had come out of her shell and she had walked right into his life, and swept his away along with hers. He took her small hands in his bigger ones and began to rub some life into them. He did not even notice the carriage had started moving. He did not notice he was holding her on his lap still, either. He just hugged her close, trying to put some warmth into her frozen body. When nothing seemed to work, he took off his coat and wrapped her in it.
Smoothing a few wet strands of hair from her face, he stared down at her. It had been too long since he had seen her. Her usually light freckles stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Peter liked them. It was when he was staring at them with an amused expression on his face, when Sydney opened her eyes.
"Hello," he said with a smile when her blue eyes focused on his face.
"Hello," she whispered so softly he could barely hear her.
She then gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen.
"You came for me, Peter."
"Of course I did," he told her softly back.
"I am so cold," she said as another bout of shivers overtook her body.
He held her closer. A few moments later he heard the even sound of her breathing and knew she was asleep. The rest of the way to Pemberley, he sat with her cradled in his arms and with thoughts of revenge plaguing his mind.
Just as the first time he carried her home, his mother and Liza were waiting at the entrance of his home. The rain had let up to a mist, but he ran to the door anyway. Elizabeth started to cry at the sight of her, but took charge. Her guest room had already been prepared and the doctor had been sent for.
"I will take her, Mr. Darcy," the doctor told him, but he simply shook his head and carried Sydney to her room himself.
She opened her eyes just as he placed her gently onto the bed. He smiled at her.
"Please do not leave me, Peter," she cried out as he started to get up.
"I will be right outside the door, Sydney," he reassured her, picking up her hand.
"Please...please," she pleaded, her blue eyes wide and child-like, "do not let him come."
"Mark my words, Sydney. He will never come to you again."
With a gentle squeeze to her hand, he left the doctor and his sister to work their magic- again.
His smile was malicious. His eyes looked positively evil. She knew he would come. She remembered Peter promising he would never get her again....but she had known better. Daniel Tate never let go.
"Hello again, Sydney," the voice said, laughing a little.
Sydney immediately turned and started to run, but found she could not. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor. She tried to move her arms and legs, but did not get away from his grasp. He had her in a few moments. She felt his grip and hated him for being stronger than her.
"Why are you running, wife? We are married, after all, and I do not want a wife who runs from me."
Sydney stared at him in shock and then looked down at her left hand, disbelieving the sight of a gold band around her fourth finger. Looking back up at him, he grinned cruelly.
"Have you forgotten so soon? I will have to make you remember," and with that, he picked her up in his arms and carried her into a room, slamming the door behind them with his foot.
Sydney fought all the while, but Daniel seemed inhuman and completely unharmed by her deadly fists and nails. Instead, he laughed off her attempts and threw her on the bed. Sydney tried to run as soon as she hit the bed, but Daniel was holding her down.
"You will have to stop fighting me, Sydney. I told myself I would have you...and I was not lying. I will have you now and anytime I want."
With those words spoken, he flashed her a frightening grin and bent down to attack her mouth.
"No!" Sydney managed to yell, which she thought was very strange since he lips were pressed on hers.
"Miss Sydney!"
It was Megan's voice. What was Megan doing with them? Had Daniel taken her also?
"Sydney!"
Oh, not Liza, too! It was too dreadful to think of her dearest friends in the hands of Tate.
"Sydney, you are having a bad dream! Please wake up now!" Liza's voice seemed to be getting louder and she could now feel something poking her.
Daniel Tate vanished as Sydney opened her eyes. Disoriented, she sat up and tried to take in her surroundings. She saw Liza and Megan looking at her with sympathetic and worried glances. The fear of her dream was subsiding as the rooms cheeriness comforted her.
"Another one?" Sydney asked quietly.
Liza nodded, taking Sydney's clammy hand in her own and squeezing reassuringly.
"I dreamt I was married to him...and..." Sydney shuddered and could not go on.
"I will make you some tea, miss." Megan said, standing up and going to the door.
"Yes, thank you, Megan," Sydney nodded, feeling proud that she had managed a smile.
When the door had shut behind the young maid, Liza looked Sydney in the eyes.
"I need to tell my brother, Sydney," she started.
"No! No, please you mustn't. Peter has already gone through so much trouble because of me..."
"Peter is waiting for you to tell him what happened the night you escaped. He does not see it as a burden, believe me."
"Daniel Tate is my problem, Liza, and mine alone. Peter has no reason to get involved."
"I suppose you are not happy he did get involved then, Sydney? I suppose he should have just ridden by and left you on the road to die or be captured. I suppose you are not happy you are safe in this bed instead of being in Tate's?" Liza said severely.
"Liza, that is not what I-"
"Meant?" Liza interrupted. "Sydney, my whole family cares for you and we want to help you, but how can we do that when you will not even tell us what your problems are?"
"My problems are not as easily explained as most, Liza. Surely you must have realized that by now."
"I know that you have been hurt in the past. We all know that. But how deep does that hurt go? And why will you not let anyone help you?"
"No one can!" Sydney spoke out.
"Do you honestly believe that?" Liza did not wait for her to answer. "There is a man in this house whom I love dearly. He has worried himself sick these past few days wondering how you are. He can and will help, if you let him."
Finished, she put down Sydney's hand and marched out of the room.
Sydney was left alone in her big room and for once in her life she was starting to believe the words Liza had spoken were true. She knew no one could help her, but if she could simply tell someone her past....What a weight would be taken from her shoulders!
Sydney fell into a sleep, completely nightmare free, to her delight. She awoke by a knock on her door. Mumbling for the person to enter, she sat up in her bed and tried to look presentable. The door opened and Peter stepped into her room. He had not been in since he had carried her in. Shutting the door behind him, he went and sat down in the chair next to her bed.
"Peter! What- what are you doing in here?"
"My family and I have discussed this to great detail and we have all come to one conclusion. I am staying in this room until you tell me what happened."
Sydney opened her mouth to protest, but her look must have told him everything.
"My brothers are outside the door and if you believe any harm will come to you, all you need do is scream. They will come in at once."
"Peter, I am not afraid of you. I know you will not harm me, but I will not speak."
Flashing her a grim smile, he said, "Then I shall be in here for a long time."
Sydney looked down at her hands, trying to blink back the tears of frustration that were invading her eyes. Should she tell him? Certainly it would ruin her, but Peter could be trusted? Right? He had been in other cases. On the other hand, this was something she had promised to take to her grave. She had so long repressed her feelings and her guilt, telling him her story would be like opening up an old wound.
"Sydney, please..." Peter spoke, his voice surprisingly soft.
She looked up at him and saw that his blue-grey eyes were full of kindness. Kindness! There was a time she never would have thought to see that in his eyes at all. It broke her.
"I will tell you," she said softly, looking at her hands.
"Sydney?" Peter asked, causing her to look up at him.
"Yes?"
"I want the whole story."
Peter could tell she was nervous. The way she was gripping the cover so hard her knuckles were white was his first clue. He was actually quite proud of her. He was not stupid and realized the extent of courage she was showing by telling him her past. He sat down on the edge of her bed and pried the blanket out of her fingers.
"Sydney, you do not need to be nervous," he told her as gently as possible.
"I am not nervous, Peter."
Peter grinned at the lie. "You may begin whenever you wish."
She flashed him an impish smile. "In that case then-"
Peter lifted an eyebrow at her and she immediately stopped.
Clearing her throat, she began. "I was born-"
"Right here in Pemberley!" Peter interrupted.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Am I telling this or are you?"
Peter shrugged and motioned for her to go on.
"Perhaps I should start even earlier than my birth. My parents, Peter, were very much in love. In fact, they reminded me of yours. My father was quite a few years older than my mother, but they did not care about the age. They had tried for many years to have a child and the doctor actually told my mother she would never bare a child. She never believed it, however, and here I am." Sydney inserted a small smile.
"My birth did take place here at Pemberley and several months early. My mother and I were not expected to live through the birth. We both did, though. My parents called it the 'little miracle' because we both lived. This time it was certain, however, that my mother would not have another child. My parents were bitterly disappointed since they had wanted at least five children, but they contented themselves with me. Actually, they did more than that. They quite spoiled me."
"I highly doubt that, Sydney. My sister is spoiled and acts the part. You, on the other hand-" Peter interjected.
"Situations can change ones attitude, although I admit I was mostly spoiled with their love. They taught me everything I believe in: goodness, truth, morals, but most of all love. We were a strongly bounded family. I do not believe my father was away from our presence for more than two days at a time. I do not think he could have stood it.
"My parents loved giving parties for all their friends. We always went riding together and my mother was most fond of a picnic lunch. We had a stable full of the most beautiful horses one could set eyes on. From a young age, I was put on top thoroughbred after thoroughbred. At times I was on my father or mother's lap and at other times I was alone. All three of us loathed winter because it was nearly impossible to ride."
Peter was a little confused. Sydney had loved horses? She had ridden thoroughbreds at a young age? He remembered clearly the day when he, Sydney, and his siblings were to ride to a clearing and have a picnic. She was practically shaking with fright at the thought of going into the stable. She might have even cried!
"My father was quite the horseman. Not only could he ride well, he actually took it upon himself to train many of his own horses. He would constantly be taking wild horses off the hands of his friends and then gentling them. You should have seen them! Before my father started his training, I could not get near them. They would buck and kick and whatnot, but after they completed the training, they would be as gentle as a lamb. My own horse was one of those.
"There was this one, however, who did not respond as well as all the rest. He was a tall, black one and so beautiful! He was the exact image of a perfect horse- perfect conformation, powerful legs, muscular long neck...perfect! Unfortunately, his temper was not quite as wonderful. My father had trained him, but he was not up to my father's expectations. Father forbid my mother and me to ride him."
Sydney paused and looked downcast at her hands which were again gripping the blanket.
"I thought he was just so beautiful, though! One afternoon my mother and I were going to take our daily ride. We were in the stables picking our horses when I caught sight of him. I told my mother she should ride the black. She denied me, of course, but when I begged her, she started to relent. My mother truly was a magnificent rider, probably as educated as my father. She began thinking she could ride him and so told the stable hands to tack him up. They tried to change her mind, but they had to obey her order.
"The black was fine with my mother mounting him. He shifted his weight slightly, but otherwise stood perfectly still and completely calm. We took them off on a walk and were just about to start trotting when I heard my father yell to us. When we were looking back at him, the black took advantage of the loose reins. He took off at a gallop so fast I do not know how my mother stayed on the saddle as long as she did. She-" Sydney swallowed, tears forming in her eyes.
"She was thrown off the horse directly into a tree. She hit with such force, the back of her head was crushed. She lived only long enough for my father to take her in his arms." She stopped, the tears running down her face completely ignored.
She was looking straight at him, but was not. He knew she was replaying in her mind that exact moment over and over. Peter shuddered at the thought. He could not imagine his gentle mother dying in such a way, let alone watching it happen. He reached out his hand to grip hers, but she pulled her hand away before contact occurred. She continued, as if in a trance.
"I then watched my father turn from a pleasant and positive man into a depressed and angry thing. After burying my mother, he turned to his room for solace and never ventured out for a whole week. I knew it was my fault, of course. How could it not be? I had convinced my mother to ride the horse against my father's wishes. She died because of my stupid want."
Peter started to shake his head, but she flashed him a look that made his blood turn cold. It was fury mixed with fear and sadness.
"Do not try to tell me I did not, Peter. I know I killed her just as I did..."
She stopped as a sob racked through her.
"Just as I did my father."
Peter was thoroughly confused now but he did not want to press her to finish. This was something Sydney had obviously kept inside herself since it had happened. He looked at her with sympathy.
"Stop it!" she hissed softly.
"Stop what?"
"Showing me sympathy! I do not deserve it! The only thing I deserve is what I got. Everything Daniel Tate did to me was simply my punishment. God wanted justice."
"I think you need to have a few talks with Jonathan, Sydney. The God I know does not work like that. You were not responsible for something you could not control. I don't understand why you-"
"And you never will! You never will, Peter!"
"But I want to and-"
"Peter, your entire life....your whole childhood and even your adulthood has been so easy. I am not blaming you or holding that against you, but it is true. You have perfect parents and wonderful siblings. The worst thing that might have happened to you was a hunting dog dying of old age. You could not possibly believe anything that has happened to me!"
"No, you are right, I will probably never feel what you are feeling, but that does not mean I cannot help you or understand you! I am reaching out Sydney, something that does not quite come very natural to me, and I want you to accept."
He edged closer to her and held out his hand. He was just going to hold her hand, but he somehow found her in his arms, holding onto him so tightly he thought he could not breathe. She was weeping uncontrollably. Each sob was literally shaking her body. Peter held her tightly and stroked her hair.
"You will be all right, Sydney. I promise you," he said quietly into her hair.
Peter felt quite ill at ease. He had never been one to give comfort. In fact, he could not recall one moment when he had. Jonathan and Ben were so much better at it than he was. He did not even know how to act. Sydney was still crying and she did not seem to be stopping anytime soon. He started rubbing her back as he had once seen his father do to his mother. It did not seem to help. He wanted to say something profound to her that would make her stop crying and think or stop crying and laugh, but all he could think was that her hair smelled very nice. He finally decided to ask her.
"What can I do to help you, Sydney?" he asked as softly as he could.
"Just hold me," she managed through her sobs.
Peter thought that was what he had been doing, but he was willing to do anything that would make her happy. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her slight frame and laid his chin down onto her head. Surprisingly, he was extremely comfortable. Why had they not done this before, minus the hysterical crying, of course. He was happy to hear that her cries had quieted down and she was now hiccuping.
"Sydney?"
She did not answer, but buried her head further into his chest. When he tried to pull away, she clung to him. When he finally grabbed her chin and gently pulled her face away from his coat, her skin was bright red.
"I am sorry," she stated keeping her eyes downcast, "I'm so embarrassed.
"It is not a problem."
"But your coat is wet!" she wailed and seemed to be on the verge of bursting into tears again.
"It will dry," he told her, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "I will live with a wet coat."
"What would your family think if they had opened the door right then and seen me...clinging to you in such a way?" she asked, moving over to keep a proper distance between them.
"They would be concerned as to why you were in my arms crying and propriety would have been far from their minds, I assure you."
Sydney took a deep breath and then exhaled. "I suppose I should tell you about my- father?"
"I will not press you, Sydney. I had no idea that your past was so ...emotional. You do not need to tell me everything at one time if it will hurt you too much."
"No, no, I need to get it out all at once. You see, I have kept it inside me for so long..."
Sydney looked down at her hands for a moment and then looked back up at Peter.
"Growing up, I had always been 'Daddy's little girl'. My father had never lamented about having a daughter instead of a son and treated me with so much love. Sometimes he would teach me things reserved for fathers and sons, such as riding and shooting...Do not give me that look, Peter. Yes, I do know how to shoot.
"I could talk with my father about anything that was on my mind and we would have hours and hours of discussions. Papa never so much as spoke to me with one word of anger. He would always deal with my discipline in a disappointed way so that I would not want to let him down ever again.
"My mother's death changed him. Papa always had a smile and kind word for everyone, but after she died he locked himself up in this world of gloom. I was grieving also but I did not want to do it on my own. I tried to speak to my father about it, but he would not allow me to see him." Sydney swallowed. "You see, he did not want to see me. I had killed his wife, the one person he loved most on the earth."
Seeing Peter shake his head, she quickly went on before he could stop her.
"I only saw Papa one time after that. He would take me with him to London, but we would travel separately and he would make me stay in the house. The one time he did see me, I was stupidly wearing something of my mother's. It was so thoughtless of me. When he saw it, he just cracked and ripped it from my neck and slapped me."
When Peter's eyes began to darken at the thought of her father hitting her, she tried to placate him. Her father was not a monster, there was just a monster in him- and Sydney herself had created it.
"He was sorry after he had done it, Peter. I could tell. He simply stared at his hand as if he could not believe what he had just done. He...he tried to come to me, but I was so afraid, I backed away....If only I had let him touch me....If only I hadn't made him think he had lost me, too!"
Sydney was crying again, but Peter let her go. She needed to finish her story.
"It was a few moments later when I was heading towards my room when I heard the gunshot. At first I did not know where it had come from or what it had been. When I finally realized exactly what it was and where it was coming from, I almost fainted. Somehow I made it to his study. I was the first one to reach the door and see him."
A tear ran down her cheek and Peter actually felt one slip out of his eye. He quickly wiped it away. The thought of Sydney walking into a study and seeing her father with his brains blown out of his head was making him sick.
"How old were you?" he choked out.
"Fourteen."
Peter closed his eyes in horror and rubbed his hand over his face trying to wipe the image out of his mind. Easy for him to do when Sydney had been the one to actually witness both her parents death.
"I was untouchable then. I stopped responding to everything. We had to cover it up, you see. It would be a horrible scandal if people knew my father had put a gun in his mouth and-" Peter blanched and she stopped.
"I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle, my mother's brother. They were kind to me at first, but you knew how they turned out. Knowing if I did not marry, they would get a large portion of my money and my entire estate, they sent me to work as a servant threatening to divulge the secret of my father's death and how I had caused both."
Peter waited a few seconds, letting the words she had just told him soak in.
"And this is the reason you could not marry me? Because they were blackmailing you?"
Sydney nodded. "I loved my father. I do not care how he turned out at the end, he was a good man. I will not have his image tarnished because my aunt and uncle are greedy. Wouldn't you do the same for your father?"
Peter stood and began pacing. He knew he was making Sydney nervous, but he had to get his thoughts out.
"Do you know what your problem is, Sydney?" He replied before she had a chance to answer. "You put everything on your own shoulders and never ask for any help."
"What help could there be? It was true what my aunt and uncle were saying. I did kill my parents."
"Sydney you have very slim shoulders and that is quite a load you are putting on them. I am really astonished you have lasted this long. First of all, you did not kill your parents."
"Yes, I did, Peter! Why do you keep denying that fact?"
"Did you make that horse bolt?" he asked, looking Sydney right into the face.
"N-no."
"Did you hold that gun to your father's head and make him pull the trigger?" he asked frankly.
Her lower lip quivered. "No."
"Then I do not see how you killed them." He left the subject to finality. "Second, may I try my hand at fixing your problems?"
"Well I...I do not...I suppose so if you mean to."
Peter smiled and stood as if to leave.
"I will go directly." He stopped to look down at her. "Should I send someone in...my mother or sister?"
"No, thank you, I would like to be with myself."
"You will be all right?" At her nod, he bent down and kissed her cheek. "Try and get some rest, Sydney."
Sydney looked up at him in surprise, her blue eyes wide. Her hand was on her cheek and Peter had to smile at how astounded she looked. He gave her a bow and was out the door. His smile disappeared the moment the door was closed. A frown that would frighten a normal man replaced it. Jonathan and Ben were standing right outside her room, just as he had suspected. Both brothers noticed his eyes had turned that tell-tale gray. Peter was extremely angry, and that was an extreme understatement. He motioned for them to follow him and when they had matched his footsteps, Jonathan spoke.
"Where are we going?"
"To take care of some rather unpleasant matters."
The three had been gone for four days. Sydney had gradually gained her strength back through warm cups of tea, Liza's care, and plenty of sleep. This did not help her nerves, however, which were constantly on edge waiting for a letter informing the family that one of the boys had been killed or imprisoned. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth knew her feelings and shared them as well.
Elizabeth had had no qualms of letting them go- as if she could have stopped them- and Fitzwilliam had even wanted to go himself. Elizabeth had drawn the line there, but Fitzwilliam had given him full range of his account, knowing from experience that any person could be bought off.
The only person who seemed unconcerned was Liza. She went through her day as happy and opinionated as always. She took care of Sydney's illness and spent many hours talking to the girl. The two girls had formed an inseparable bond in the time that Sydney had lived with them and it had grown stronger once she had been brought back. The servants always shook their heads and smiled when they saw the two together. There was never a pair that was more opposite. Liza was outgoing, opinionated, and loud. She was kind but rather obstinate at times. Sydney had never bestowed a cross or angry word to anyone working in the house. She was quiet and kept opinions to herself. Elizabeth often wondered what they talked about.
"How can you tell if a man shows interest in you?" Liza asked Sydney one afternoon while they were taking a walk.
"Liza, I think you should question your mother. I am not very astute in these matters at all." Sydney smiled.
"You must know something. How did you know when Peter started showing interest in you?"
"Oh, Liza, must we talk of this? To be truthful, I do not think he ever did."
"Surely you must be funning, Sydney. Why, the way Peter looks at you...I can't describe it in words, but believe me, he has never looked at a woman that way in all his life. You are the first one he has not been afraid of." Liza exclaimed.
Sydney laughed. "Your brother could hardly be afraid of women. Sometimes I wonder if he has any fears and then I feel quite envious of him."
"Ha!" Liza pronounced, rolling her eyes. "Besides his fear of meddling mothers and kittens, Peter is deathly afraid of marriage. Every time a woman shows him any amount of interest- and they do believe me- he hightails it in the opposite direction. It is quite amusing, actually."
"How can he be afraid of kittens?" Sydney asked in amazement.
Liza shrugged. "He runs away from them, also. Once I found a stray one in the woods and I brought it home to keep. When he saw it he..." Liza stopped. "Did you pay any attention to anything I said after that?"
"Of course. I suppose agreeing not to marry me is not considered running?" Sydney asked with a smile.
"Yes, he did run at first, but I believe he is gradually running back to you. How do you manage it?"
Liza laughed as Sydney turned red. "I do not manage anything. He is simply a friend."
"Mm-hmm," Liza stated with a smile that stated she knew she was lying.
It was later that night in bed that Sydney began to think about the last few words she had said. Sydney had not ever had many friends so she was unused to the whole game, but she somehow knew that Peter was something different than a friend. She certainly did not value her friendship with Liza the same way she did with Peter, although she loved them both equally. It was quite confusing to her.
She started to doze in the middle of her thoughts, but the sound of a carriage woke her. Her heart falling to her feet, she raced to her window. Looking out, she saw three men step out of the carriage. Sydney breathed a sigh of relief and whispered a prayer of thanks to God for their safety. Grabbing her robe on the way out, she started downstairs.
She heard deep voices coming from the sitting room. The door was partly closed and Sydney hesitated at the doorway. She was debating whether to go in or knock when Jonathan's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Are you hurt badly, Peter?"
Without more hesitation, she pushed open the door and had already cleared half the room in three worried strides. She looked at Peter and outwardly blanched. All in all, he really was not hurt badly, but the open cut under a black eye appeared worse than it really was.
"Didn't you take care of these?" she asked, walking closer.
"I did not have much time. I just got into the carriage and we went."
"Was he chasing you?" she asked fearfully.
"Tate? Nah," Peter said with a grin, "he was flat on his face knocked out."
Sydney gasped and then straightened her shoulders and looked at him determinedly.
"You will tell me everything that happened, Peter Darcy!"
"Yes, ma'am," he mock saluted.
Sydney took his hand and led him to a chair. "Sit," she said as she rather forcefully shoved him down.
She turned her back on him to give her greetings to Jonathan and Ben, but they had conveniently disappeared. Feeling a little embarrassed that she had been so rude as to not even greet them with a hello, she took a bottle of brandy and asked Peter for a handkerchief.
"You can start talking while I see to this," she said, blotting the handkerchief with the brandy.
"You do not have to do this," he told her, almost looking her straight in the eye even though he was sitting down.
"I know," she said, then waved her hand for him to start.
"We headed to your Aunt and Uncle's residence first since I did not know exactly where Tate was. Your Uncle had instructed the servants not to let any Darcy into the household, but Mrs. Andrews seemed to forget that night. She opened the doors for us quite graciously actually."
Sydney and Peter shared a smile until Peter bellowed in pain.
"That hurt!" he said in an accusing tone.
"Oh, I am sorry! I have to do this, but if you-"
Peter put a finger over her lips and she stopped talking in surprise. He was smiling and those wonderful laugh lines he got around his eyes... She shook the thought out of her head.
"I was funning. It did not hurt as much as when I received it."
Peter continued, "It is quite safe to say that your relatives were a little intimidated at the three of us." He smiled arrogantly. "We are quite intimidating, you know....I told them that I knew of how they had treated you. I do not know how they got away with it for so long, but I told them if they did not leave the country I would report their actions to the authorities."
"Out of the country? Why, they do not have the finances to-"
"Your Uncle tried to come back at me telling me he'd let out your dark family secret, but of course, I shoved that right back in his face. Since I already knew it and would, with the help of my family and acquaintances, tell the truth of the story, he had no argument. They both realized that they did not stand a chance and were quite willing to abide by my restrictions. Right now they should be on their way to America."
"America!" Sydney explained.
"Where else was I to send them?" he asked pointedly.
"But how did they...What did you do-"
"That is for me to know, Sydney. The real matter is that they are leaving and you get your inheritance in it's full worth and they are out of your lives- forever."
Sydney was still worried about what he had done to get her Aunt and Uncles acceptance. She was not a ninny and knew very well that the Darcy's had paid them off. She only hoped that they would allow her to repay them. Still, the thought of being free from her relative's malice did make her heart feel light. Much lighter, in fact.
"While at your relative's home, I wrote to my acquaintance Henry Tilney, inquiring after Tate. Tilney wrote back informing me that Tate was in fact residing in London at this very moment. After your relatives were dealt with, I left Mr. Andrews and his oldest son with the task of seeing them out. Jonathan, Ben, and I rushed to London."
"I hope you did not call him out!" Sydney said as she expertly cleaned the cut under his eye.
"Unfortunately, I was too late. Another already had."
"No!"
"Actually, yes. Do you know Lord Montberry?" Seeing her nod, he went on, "It seems that Tate had made quite a play on the youngest Montberry girl. He had really shaken her up. No details were given, but I know that you, especially, can imagine."
Unfortunately, Sydney could quite easily. The poor girl! It was a tragedy, really, considering the girl was only fourteen years of age.
"The eldest Montberry boy was in the middle of calling him out right as we entered the bar."
"Then how did you..." Sydney trailed off, pointing to his eye.
"Do you think I would let him get off the hook with me? I had to have my fair share with that bas- ,uh, man, also. I went up to him and gave him a right hook. It was glorious, Sydney! I wish you would have been there. I knocked him out cold with one punch, that coward!"
"Then how did you-"
"Montberry got a little perturbed that I knocked out the man he was calling out. His friends were, too. Before I could explain, they all sort of cornered me. I managed to get out with only a few punches that hit me, and that is why I jumped into the carriage and was off. I had no time to tend to my wounds, if you can call them that."
"Peter, I...I do not know how to thank you." Sydney said quietly.
"There is no need," he said as he gently picked up her hand and kissed it.
Sydney was taken for surprise. One at the kiss and second because the skin on his right hand was broken as well. His knuckles were completely raw.
"Peter! Why did you not tell me your hands were hurt as well?" she asked.
He shrugged, but he was smiling.
"I feel as if I am not worthy of all you have done for me....you and your family, Peter. I have never done one thing in return for all this kindness." Sydney started again, looking down intently at his hand.
He placed a finger under her chin and raised it up.
"You are worthy enough for ten times the effort, if one can call it that. Have you not realized how special you are?" he asked with a very almost...tender smile.
What was she thinking? Tender smile? She almost laughed. It was late. She was imagining things. Never in her lifetime would she see Peter Darcy smile tenderly at any woman. But, oh, how she wished he would! Suddenly, she gasped and dropped the brandy bottle. Peter reacted quickly and caught it inches from the ground and gave her a rueful smile. She could not stop staring at him with what she assumed was shock on her face.
"What is it?" he asked her in alarm.
She shook her head and took a few steps away from him.
"Sydney, what is wrong?" he asked, standing up now and walking towards her.
"I beg you to excuse me, sir. I suddenly feel a bit ill."
And the one thing Sydney King was an expert at, she did- run. She did not stop running until she was in her room and leaning against the door.
"That could not have happened," she told herself out loud.
It did, Syd, her mind told her.
"No, it did not," she contradicted herself.
It happened a long time ago, you just never took the time to accept it, her mind said again.
"No, it did not," Sydney repeated.
And you obviously still have not, her mind rang loud and clear.
Sydney flung herself on her bed and pulled a pillow over her ears. Her mind was right. She had never taken the time to realize it because perhaps she was not willing to put her heart on the line. And loving Peter Darcy definitely required that.