Jump to new as of November 30, 2000
Jump to new as of December 4, 2000
Prologue
Author's Disclaimer: Some of the places described in this story are entirely fictional and any resemblance to an actual country/place is purely coincidental
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew they cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss.
- Lord Byron, 'When we two parted'
August 13, 1814; London
"There is nothing in this world that I detest more than a ball," declared Darcy with a frown. "You must be aware of that by now, Bingley."
"Yes, Darce," Bingley said with impatience. "But you must attend. Several dignitaries will be there. It is the social event of the season. Your absence will be conspicuous, I dare say."
Darcy rolled his eyes. "I cannot say I care."
Bingley attempted a slightly different approach. "Please, Darce, I do not wish to go alone."
Darcy looked at his friend. "That has never stopped you before."
Bingley smiled slightly. "Agreed, but the fact remains, I beg for your compliance and it would be truly unfortunate if you would deny your friend this one wish."
Darcy sighed. "There cannot be too much harm in it, I suppose."
Bingley's face lit up with a joyous smile. "Does that mean...?"
"Yes," said Darcy with a hint of annoyance. "I will come."
"Much better," said Bingley with an air of victory about him.
"Well, I have some business to attend to," Darcy began to leave the club, still wondering how he had allowed his friend to convince him to join the evening's festivities. "I shall see you tonight?"
"Most definitely," Bingley grinned.
As he watched his friend depart, Bingley congratulated himself on a well executed plan. It had always been difficult to persuade Darcy to attend any balls, but of late, it had become impossible. Bingley watched his friend become more somber and detached since his return a few weeks ago and it concerned him very much. Darcy was taciturn by nature, but recently, he had refused every invitation to every engagement that had come his way. It was strange, even for him, and Bingley was determined to ascertain the cause for his friend's ailment, for an ailment it certainly was; and the only way to help him was to find the cure.
Lady Josephine's Ball
Darcy entered the ballroom with a look of distaste on his face. He was predisposed to disapprove of everything he beheld, not because of its lack of merit, but due to the morbid state of his own affairs. He was in no mood for a long evening of dancing frivolities and the only reason he had succumbed to Bingley was because he had not had the energy to argue with him any further. Darcy was a man of his word, however, and he kept his promise to his friend, arriving punctually, to brave the multitude of horrors that such an evening undoubtedly afforded. As Darcy scanned the throngs of people for a familiar face, he saw Bingley who left the side of a charming lady to greet him.
"I am pleased to see you, Darce," said Bingley enthusiastically. "You will not regret your decision."
Darcy looked at the couples dancing and said, "I already regret it."
"Come, Darce, it cannot be that bad," said Bingley with surprise.
Darcy decided to spare his friend. "You are right, I suppose."
That seemed to cheer Bingley. "Of course, I am. You must find some delightful young lady and ask her to dance. I insist that you have a good time."
Darcy looked at his friend ruefully, his thoughts instantly traveling back to a pair of dark, mischievous eyes . Impossible "I shall try."
"Excellent," smiled Bingley and took his leave, returning to the aforementioned lady.
Darcy sighed, grossly envious of his friend's easy and happy manners. If only his life could be as simple and uncomplicated as his. That was not to be expected, however, for Darcy's world was plagued by complications and always had been, even before the events of late. He could not imagine himself enjoying the evening. There was not a remote possibility of such an occurrence for his very means of happiness was miles away, separated from him forever by the oceans between them. He was lost, his existence was meaningless, and yet Darcy knew he could not stop living. It was a hopeless situation, one for which Darcy saw no remedy.
Darcy's attentions were drawn away from such reflections by the commotion in the ballroom due to the arrival of apparently some important guest. A crowd was collected at the entrance, surrounding the new arrival. There was much excited whisperings, inaudible murmurs that caused Darcy to be curious. He approached the crowd and peered, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever had just entered. His efforts were successful and when he finally saw who it was, he gasped in surprise. It was her.
Darcy could not believe his eyes and for a moment, he was certain that he was hallucinating, that he was dreaming that elusive dream again, but with every passing second, he knew that she was real. She had not seen him, and Darcy was thankful for that. He did not think he could bear it if she did. He slowly walked away from the crowd, his senses still reeling from the mere thought of her presence not twenty feet away from him. Not even in his wildest fantasies had he believed that he would see her, certainly not this soon. I must leave now, I must.
As Darcy searched for a means of escape, the exit being completely blocked, Bingley appeared next to him. "Do you know who she is, Darce?" Bingley was curious.
Darcy sighed. He'd find out soon enough. "Princess Elizabeth."
Chapter 1
Darcy whispered her name, almost afraid to say it out loud for he might discover that he had only been dreaming and the vision in front of him was not real. His eyes followed her through the room as she approached Lady Josephine and gracefully greeted her. Darcy knew he was staring at her, but it could not be helped; his eyes and his heart refused to abide by what his brain dictated, that he should leave while he still had a chance. But he did not move, indeed, he could not for he was transfixed by her. She was so beautiful and Darcy could not help but admire her luxurious hair, her disarming smile, her sheer dignity. Lady Josephine said something indiscernible and she laughed that lilting laugh that Darcy knew so well. It was low and musical and Darcy felt momentarily betrayed by it. How could she laugh so pleasantly when his world was shattering around him? Had he imagined her regard for her? He must have, Darcy decided, for otherwise he would not be in the hopeless state he was in.
"Do you know her, Darce?" Bingley noticed his friend's preoccupation.
The moment was gone. Darcy looked at Bingley with a small frown. "No...that is, I know of her..." Darcy could not speak the painful truth.
"And...?" Bingley prodded him.
"She is the princess of Longbourn," Darcy explained.
"Ah," Bingley said, glancing at her as she continued to speak with Lady Josephine. "I see that her reputation does not do her justice. She is quite handsome. Did you ever have the opportunity to see her when you were in Longbourn?"
Darcy paled slightly as his eyes darted towards Elizabeth. "Well, of course, I saw her. Once or twice," he said in a deliberate tone.
Bingley's curiosity did not seem to be satisfied. "She seems very gracious. Did you ever speak with her?"
Darcy knew not if he could bear it much longer, but he said, "Yes."
"And what is she like?"
"Very nice," Darcy found himself saying. Nice? Good god, man. Is that all you can say about the woman you would gladly die for?
"I wonder what she is doing here," Bingley said thoughtfully. "It must be rather sudden for we would have heard about it sooner otherwise. Some matter of the state, do you think?"
"Quite possibly," Darcy murmured. It was rather sudden. A plan to visit London had never been mentioned in his presence. He knew that she disliked it and its society immensely and yet, she was standing just a few feet away from him conversing with the same kind of high society lady that she scorned. She has swallowed a great deal of her pride to be here. I wonder what has happened.
"Well," Bingley said. "Let us go and greet the princess, then."
What?! "Um...no," Darcy said. "That is to say, you go ahead." Darcy tried hastily to invent some excuse. "I have some business to attend to."
"Nonsense," Bingley dismissed him. "You are attending a ball, Darce. No one conducts business in a ball. Now, come, you would not wish to insult the princess, would you?"
"No, indeed," Darcy said softly.
Darcy followed Bingley warily, his each step bringing him closer to her. He wanted to turn around and run the other direction, but propriety dictated otherwise. Outwardly Darcy appeared calm as always, but inside, his heart beat wildly and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was afraid; afraid that he would not be able to bear her proximity, afraid that he would unwittingly reveal his inner turmoil, afraid that he would take her in his arms and kiss her till she told him why she had done what she did. Darcy shuddered at the latter. The mere thought made his skin crawl and he cursed his luck. It was just his luck that he allowed Bingley to maneuver him into attending this ball, which happened to be the one that she was attending. It was ironic, and Darcy would have laughed if he had not been so preoccupied with appearing calm.
As they neared Lady Josephine and Elizabeth, Darcy allowed himself to look at her again and suddenly, her eyes lifted and she saw him. Darcy looked into her eyes and held her gaze. There was a flicker of recognition and Darcy was certain he saw some other emotion in her eyes; pain, guilt...pity? But that was gone as suddenly as it had appeared and she composed herself remarkably well considering the circumstance, even managing to display a small smile.
"Lady Josephine," Bingley bowed as greeted his host.
Lady Josephine seemed delighted. "Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy. I would like to introduce you to Princess Elizabeth who has been kind enough to grace us with her presence on such a short notice."
Bingley bowed and Elizabeth acknowledged him, although her eyes remained on Darcy. Darcy realized that he had not spoken a word and his silence might be misinterpreted as impertinence. So, he inclined his head and said, "Your Highness."
Elizabeth's face betrayed no emotion. "I am pleased to see you again, Mr. Darcy."
Are you? "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," Darcy managed to say mechanically.
Lady Josephine said, "I was not aware that you were acquainted with Mr. Darcy, Your Highness..."
Elizabeth smiled at Lady Josephine, a smile that Darcy knew she reserved for her official duties. "Yes, indeed. I had the opportunity of meeting him when he was visiting my country."
"Wonderful," Lady Josephine smiled. She paused and looked at Bingley and Darcy as she said, "Before you came, I was just asking the princess what brought her to our little town." Lady Josephine laughed as if she had said a good joke.
Darcy could see the disgust on her face even as her composure remained unruffled. "I am here on business," said Elizabeth evenly. "It is a rather delicate matter and I would rather not discuss it further."
That was said with a finality that even Lady Josephine could not ignore. She smiled nonetheless and then excused herself to attend to other guests. Bingley saved them from the awkward silence that followed.
"I am so delighted to finally meet you, Your Highness," he said. "I have heard so much about you."
Elizabeth stole a glance at Darcy as she spoke, "Have you really? I am surprised. I did not know England was much interested in her insignificant subjects."
Bingley was slightly taken aback. He was at a loss for words, and Darcy took pity on his friend by saying, "I hope you have not prejudiced yourself against us, Your Highness." He spoke with an almost trembling voice.
Elizabeth looked at him straight in the eye. "I am not prejudiced, Mr. Darcy. I speak from experience."
Darcy held her gaze as he said, "I do not think interaction with Mr. Viceroy* counts as experience."
Bingley was alarmed at the confrontational tone in Darcy's voice, but said nothing. Elizabeth did not seem very affected, instead she spoke in a surprisingly even tone. "I wish you would not insult my intelligence by accusing me of prejudice, Mr. Darcy."
"I only speak the truth," Darcy said, somehow weeks of suppressed anger rising within him.
Elizabeth replied with a trace of anger and annoyance. "And what truth might that be?"
Darcy gladly obliged. "That you would characterize a whole nation based on the acts of a few. I cannot call that anything but prejudice."
Bingley's alarm increased and he said, "What he means to say, Your Highness, is that he hopes you can give us another chance to make a better impression."
Elizabeth looked at Bingley, with a small charming smile at his valiant efforts to help his friend. "You are just a little more tactful than he is, Mr. Bingley."
Bingley smiled slightly, relieved that the princess was not greatly offended. "You must forgive my friend, Your Highness. He is usually disagreeable at balls, and I fear that I forced him to attend this one."
"I am glad you did," said Elizabeth with a glance at Darcy. "For I would have been deprived of such a stimulating conversation otherwise. This ball would have been very dull, I dare say."
Darcy knew not how to interpret her flippant manner. She did not seem the least bit concerned to see him, nor did it seem as if she remembered anything that had transpired between them. Surely she could not have forgotten this soon? Darcy looked at her for any sign that her decision had caused her any degree of pain, but found none. He felt sick at that thought.
Meanwhile, her prime minister, James Carver approached them. "The earl is here, Your Highness."
Elizabeth nodded and said, "I shall be there directly." She looked at Bingley and said, "Pray excuse me."
"Of course," Bingley was surprised at her politeness and watched as she retreated into the crowd. As she disappeared in the crowd, Bingley looked at Darcy and said, "What in the world is wrong with you, Darce?"
I don't know. "Nothing," Darcy replied nonchalantly.
"Nothing?" Bingley was incredulous. "You insulted the princess!"
"I was just stating the truth," Darcy defended himself.
"It does not matter if you were," said Bingley. "That is hardly the issue. You are fortunate she did not take offense or you might have been in trouble."
Does it seem like I care? "I suppose so."
Bingley continued, "In fact, I am surprised at her composure. She had every right to be furious at your insolence, for it was insolence. She handled herself remarkably well, I would say, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, indeed," said Darcy with a touch of bitterness. "Very well."
Bingley noticed the tone of his voice. "Darce, are you well? Maybe I should not have forced you to come tonight?"
"Maybe," Darcy sighed. "I am sorry for being so difficult, Bingley."
Bingley's face softened. "Do not trouble yourself."
Darcy smiled slightly. "Well, do not inconvenience yourself on my account. That young lady of yours must be feeling very neglected. You should go back to her."
"She is an angel," Bingley grinned and followed Darcy's advice.
Darcy remained at his usual place in a corner of the ballroom. He knew he could leave if he wanted to, but somehow, he could not bring himself to do so. His eyes traveled to Elizabeth, who was engaged in deep conversation with the Earl of Claridge about some matter of importance undoubtedly. Darcy could not continue to look at her, however, so he walked towards a window and stared out at the night. He knew why he did not leave. It was because he feared not seeing her again. Strange, even in his hurt and anger, that thought scared him. He was scared that if he left, she would disappear from his life forever. Of course, he could always seek her out, but he knew he did not have the courage to do so knowing what awaited him if he did. It was a hopeless situation, Darcy knew, and there seemed to be no immediate remedy for it, if indeed, there was a remedy.
"I see you have returned to an old habit of yours, Mr. Darcy," an unmistakable teasing voice said from behind him. Darcy turned to face her, his heart soaring in spite of his brain's stern instructions to the contrary. She continued, "I would say more but I fear I might be declared prejudiced."
Darcy blushed as he replied, "You are safe from me, Your Highness."
Elizabeth's eyes danced with mirth. "Thank you for that reassurance, but do not think I was scared of you."
"I never thought you were," said Darcy with feeling.
The expression on her face changed slightly. "You left Longbourn rather suddenly, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy's expression darkened. "I had nothing to keep me back."
Elizabeth's eyes searched his face. "Indeed?"
Darcy looked at her. "My business there had concluded. It was time for me to leave."
Elizabeth said, "Without even a farewell?"
Darcy knew not why she was tormenting them both. "I did not think it appropriate."
"Since when have you become concerned with propriety, Mr. Darcy?" The teasing tone had returned.
"I always was, Your Highness. Perhaps you just never noticed," Darcy said.
"Perhaps so," she inclined her head and smiled. "I learn new things every day."
Her smile was greatly distracting to Darcy. He was in great danger of losing his composure, so he decided to change the subject. "Why are you here?"
Elizabeth laughed. "You sound just like Lady Josephine."
"It is a simple question," said Darcy.
"And a simple answer you shall receive," said Elizabeth. "Your viceroy has yet again managed to insult and outrage my people."
"What has he done this time?" asked Darcy with a sigh.
Elizabeth seemed angered just at the thought of it. "He has seized some land belonging to a poor farmer and claims right to it. This is insufferable. I am sick and tired of his arrogant ways and if things continue as such, I cannot guarantee against an uprising."
Darcy looked at her with commiseration. "What did the earl have to say?"
"Nothing of any importance, I assure you," said Elizabeth with a frown. "He will speak to the king, he said, but you know these politicians. I am almost certain nothing will be done. It is rather frustrating."
"I am sorry." Darcy did not know anything appropriate to say.
Elizabeth looked at him. "It is not your fault."
Darcy smiled, "I am glad you think so. I feared you would blame me for everything, seeing as I am an Englishman."
Elizabeth looked at him slyly. "I will forgive you for that. I suppose you cannot help it."
Darcy grinned, "You are too generous, Your Highness."
Elizabeth laughed at that and Darcy knew that he was in heaven. Just being in such close proximity to her intoxicated him. Everything about her was intoxicating; her sweet fragrance, her laugh, her remarkable eyes. This will not do. She cannot continue to torture me by reminding me of what I can never have.
"So," he began with great deliberation. "When is the wedding?"
Elizabeth's face instantly clouded. "In a few months."
"I see." He paused. "Are you happy?"
Elizabeth colored. "What kind of a question is that?"
Darcy persevered, "A straightforward one. So, are you?" His eyes pierced her.
Elizabeth looked away. "Yes, of course, I am."
"I wish I could believe it," said Darcy softly.
She looked at him, her face impassive. "You should."
"But I cannot," Darcy said.
"That is not my problem," said Elizabeth. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then making a decision, said, "It has been a pleasure, Mr. Darcy, but I must leave now."
Darcy did not resist. He bowed his head and said, "Good bye, Your Highness."
Elizabeth looked into his eyes, for a second, debating something, then hurriedly said, "Good bye."
Darcy watched her disappear from sight and wondered what he had ever done to deserve his fate.
* At the height of the empire, Great Britain held several colonies around the world, giving it the reputation of being an empire where the sun never set. Each colony had a viceroy, who represented Great Britain and was, in many ways, the ultimate authority in the colony.
Chapter 2
August 14, 1814; London
Darcy drank his morning coffee in silence. The previous night had been emotionally draining and Darcy had never imagined that conceding to attend the ball would have resulted in such a crisis. He wondered whether he would attended the event had he known that she would be there as well. He did not know. At least, he thought he did not, but had he listened to his heart, it would have been obvious to him that he would done anything to see her again, no matter the pain. Just being in such proximity was reward enough for all the pain and suffering. Indeed, it had not all been suffering. He had managed to speak with her alone and in those few precious moments together, he felt that they had somehow captured their former gaiety. But that, too, had not lasted long once he had so foolishly mentioned her impending wedding. Why had he been so self-destructive as to mention that?
But Darcy could not help but mention it. What else could be expected of him? She was going to marry another and he, of all people, had the right to know why. He had not dared to ask her that directly, but it was the question that loomed in the horizon. Why was she punishing him without any apparent reason? Why had their love ceased to matter all of a sudden? A little over a month ago, he had been in bliss, fairly certain of her regard, and then, he had learnt of the engagement. He had not believed it at first, dismissing it as another vicious rumor aimed at the princess. But then, an engagement ball had followed, a ball to which he had been invited. The irony was not lost on Darcy and he had attended the ball, if only to seek her out. She had eluded him, however, refusing to speak with him at the ball and even refusing a private conference after it. The message had been clear to Darcy and he had left Longbourn soon after, not expecting to see her again soon. Of course, he had been wrong.
"What is wrong, Fitzwilliam?" The voice of his sister, Georgiana intruded his thoughts.
Darcy looked at his sister sitting across from, her face pale with concern, her blue eyes filled with puzzlement. He had forgotten that she was there. "Nothing, dearest." He said soothingly, hoping that she would be satisfied.
No such luck. "I know that something is wrong," said Georgie with some conviction. "You are not well. Ever since you returned from Longbourn, you have been quiet and pensive. I am worried about your health."
Darcy smiled reassuringly. "Please, you have no reason to worry, Georgie."
"Have I not?" Georgie persisted.
"No, indeed," said Darcy. "My business in Longbourn was a little complicated, is all. That is what detained me there for longer than I expected. But it is all over now and there is nothing to be alarmed about."
Georgie studied her brother for a moment. "Forgive my impertinence, but who is Elizabeth?"
Darcy stared at her in surprise. She cannot know...? "I beg your pardon?"
"Elizabeth," Georgie repeated. "Who is she?"
"I have no idea what you are speaking of," Darcy bluffed.
Georgie sighed. "Last night, I was awoken by cries from your chamber. I got up to investigate and as I approached your room, I heard you calling for some Elizabeth. When I arrived, you had calmed, so I did not wake you up."
Darcy avoided Georgie's gaze. "Um...I am as baffled as you are."
"So, you are not acquainted with any Elizabeth?" Georgie asked.
Darcy could not lie. "I am, but I cannot imagine why I would be calling her name. It must have been a nightmare of some sort."
Georgie forced herself to be satisfied. "It must have." She murmured in agreement.
Darcy looked at her. "Please do not worry. Truly, I am all right."
If only I could believe that. His assurances did not convince her, but she assented, nonetheless. "How was the ball?"
Darcy paled, but managed to say. "Better than I expected."
"Really?" said Georgie with interest. "How so?"
"Interesting people," muttered Darcy, but feared he might give himself away. "I must leave now, Georgie." He got up and kissed his sister on her cheeks. "What shall you do today?"
"Mrs. Annesley shall take me to buy a new gown," replied Georgie with a smile.
Darcy smiled in response. "Good."
Georgie looked at him with concern for a few moments, then sighed and left the breakfast parlor. Darcy watched her exit, but did not see. His mind was already engaged far away. The silence was deafening, and the solitude desolate. Darcy sighed. So much the better, for it gave him the freedom to think without any disturbance. As Darcy cleared his head, his thoughts instantly flew to the past, which in retrospect seemed many years and not just a few months away.
~~
April 2, 1814; Longbourn
Darcy was unaccustomed to the heat, and yet, he ventured to stray from the safety and relative comforts of his quarters to explore the dense woods. Upon his arrival a few days earlier, he had been warned by his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam that the strong sun in this part of the world could prove fatal to someone unaccustomed to its power, but Darcy paid no heed to that warning. In fact, he relished the feel of the warm evening sun on his face and he smiled. The woods were particularly beautiful, a multitude of flora and fauna peeing from all directions. Darcy had never been exposed to such natural beauty and he was amazed by it. He walked deeper and deeper into the woods, unaware of his location and just as he crossed a small brook, he beheld a strange scene in front of him.
A woman dressed in a modest gown and a rather conspicuous hooded cloak was lying on the grass in obvious pain. Darcy rushed to her side. "Are you hurt, madam?"
The woman looked at him and said, "No, I just enjoy lying in the middle of the woods and groaning in pain."
Darcy was taken aback. "I am just trying to help."
"You are an Englishman," she said, almost accusingly.
Darcy was even more baffled. "I am glad you noticed."
"I don't want your help," she said spitefully, tossing her head, the hood falling in consequence.
Darcy noticed the woman for the first time. She had very dark, curly hair that had previously been hidden by the hood. Her features could be described as handsome, but they were nothing when compared to her amazing dark eyes. They were deep and mysterious, enchanting and alluring. Darcy was mesmerized. The woman noticed his preoccupation and did not seem impressed. Her face was hard and her eyes blazed with some inexplicable anger.
"What happened?" Darcy finally asked, looking at her swollen ankle.
"What does it look like?" snapped the woman. "I tripped and fell."
Darcy ignored her rudeness. "What are you doing in these woods, unaccompanied?"
"That is none of your concern," she said haughtily.
"It is dangerous for a young lady, like yourself, to be alone here," Darcy said.
The woman glared at him. "When I want your advice, I shall ask for it."
Darcy could not ignore her impertinence any longer, fine eyes or not. "I see that you are very ungrateful, madam. Here I am trying to be of some assistance to you and you do nothing but insult me. Any other man would have left by now."
The woman did not seem apologetic. "Then what keeps you here? By all means, leave."
Darcy studied her. She busied herself with her ankle, ignoring him. Darcy was intrigued. She was obviously a woman of some breeding, but Darcy had no idea what she was doing in the woods. For some reason, she was also extremely hostile to himself and that just added to her allure. Darcy, who had hitherto been standing, seated himself next to the woman.
She looked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Sitting down...?" Darcy said with an air of stating the obvious.
That seemed to increase her anger. "I can see that," she said impatiently.
"Your powers of observation amaze me," Darcy said with a teasing voice.
The woman ignored that comment. "You cannot do this. You must leave."
Darcy shook his head. "On the contrary, madam, I can do whatever I please."
The woman looked at him incredulously. It seemed foreign to her that anyone would willfully ignore her command. Her lips quivered as she spoke. "You seem to take great amusement at this unfortunate situation."
Darcy smiled slightly. "Do you honestly believe that I am enjoying this?"
The woman looked at him and smiled for the first time. "Yes, I believe you are."
Darcy thought that she appeared even more beautiful when she smiled. "You should smile more often. It becomes you." The woman blushed charmingly, making Darcy bold. "Are you ready for me to help you now, Miss --- er, I do not know your name..."
The woman narrowed her eyes as she said, "For good reason, and no, I still don't require your assistance." As if to prove her point, she began raising herself with great effort and it seemed that she would be able to stand, but then, she fell again, this time her fall broken by Darcy.
He looked into her eyes, smiling. "I think you do."
The woman seemed aware of Darcy's arms around her waist and she said, "Remove your arms from my person immediately."
Darcy grinned. "You cannot walk and we shall both be sitting here indefinitely unless you allow me to help you." The woman pouted, but said nothing. Darcy reviewed the situation and then, made a decision. He stood up, scooping the woman in his arms, her head resting on his chest.
The woman shrieked. "Let me go, you...you...insufferable creature!"
Darcy smiled. "Save the compliments for when I have rescued us both."
The woman moaned. "I can walk. Let me go."
Darcy shook his head and began the long walk out of the woods. He tried to retrace his steps so that he would be back where his journey had begun, but alas, the sun was beginning to disappear and Darcy found, after walking in circles for several minutes, that he was lost. He frowned and paused as they neared the same brook that they had left not ten minutes ago. He stopped. The woman had closed her eyes and stopped her struggle, but when Darcy stopped, her eyes flew open and she looked at Darcy.
"What?" she asked, nay, snapped.
Darcy slowly lowered the woman onto the ground. "We seem to be lost."
"Lost?!" the woman exclaimed. "What do you mean lost?"
Darcy sighed. "It means that I am not certain where we are."
"You mean you are not acquainted with these woods?" the woman asked incredulously.
"No," Darcy shook his head. "In fact, I arrived in Longbourn just two days ago."
"What?" she almost shouted. "You mean to tell me that I placed my confidence on someone who has never been to these woods before?!"
Darcy nodded. "I suppose so. I thought I could find my way back. I was wrong. Surely you know how to get out of these woods."
"No!" the woman cried.
Darcy was silent for a moment. "Then, I suppose we shall have to stay here for the night. It shall be dark soon and we cannot risk going any further."
"I cannot sleep here," the woman said.
Darcy looked at her. "I am sorry that these arrangements do not meet your fancy."
The woman looked at Darcy's mocking expression. "I am going to find my way out of here." She tried to get up, but sat down again, the pain still fresh in her ankle. She cried in pain and did not move. She groaned and stole a look at Darcy. He seemed to be smiling and that made her even angrier. She ignored him and remained silent.
Darcy was enjoying himself immensely by just watching her. She was so spirited, so intelligent, so beautiful. He felt fortunate that an opportunity to become acquainted with her had thus presented itself. As sundown was imminent, Darcy gathered some wood and began a small fire. He sat down near the woman and watched with wonder how her face shone in the firelight. She glanced at him, and then, looked away.
At length, she said, "I am thirsty."
It was more of a command than anything else. Darcy looked around. The brook was close enough. He lifted the woman again, and she did not protest. He carried her to the brook and lowered her slowly. She drank water from the brook and when she was done, Darcy brought her back to the fireside.
"Thank you," she said almost unwillingly.
Darcy was pleasantly surprised. "I do believe that is the first civil word you have said to me."
The woman looked at him. "Well, do not become accustomed to it."
Darcy laughed. "Believe me, I will not."
For the first time, the woman laughed. Her laugh was lilting, musical, enchanting. Darcy was enraptured. "You learn very quickly, Mr. ...?"
"Darcy," he said. "Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"Ah," she said.
"Now you have the advantage of knowing my name while I am still in dark as to yours."
The woman shrugged. "And your point is?"
Darcy smiled. "Nothing."
They were silent for a few moments. "So, Mr. Darcy," she said. "What brings you to Longbourn?"
"Business," replied Darcy.
"What kind of business?" she asked.
"Private," said Darcy with a smile.
The woman smiled in return. "Are you affiliated with the British army here?"
"No," Darcy shook his head.
"What about the viceroy? Do you know him?"
"I know of him, if that is what you mean," said Darcy, a little confused. "But, no, I do not know him personally."
"Good," said the woman strangely.
"Why is that good?" asked Darcy, puzzled.
"Because I hate them," said the woman with passion.
"Does it follow then that you do not hate me?" Darcy immediately said.
The woman smiled. "No, I did not say that."
Darcy grinned. "And here I thought we were making progress."
The woman laughed. "You can think what you want, Mr. Darcy."
"Why do you hate them?" asked Darcy, returning to her previous comment.
Her face darkened visibly. She looked away as she said, "They are the enemies."
"Enemies?" Darcy repeated.
"Of this country," the woman said forcefully. She glared at Darcy. "Your precious England is the enemy. She is draining our resources. She is killing my people. Is there any wonder that I hate all Englishmen."
"All Englishmen?" Darcy said.
"Yes," said the woman firmly.
"Even me?" Darcy asked with a faint smile.
The woman looked at him, but did not reply. Darcy did not press any further. He did not know what to say. An awkward silence followed, but it was broken soon after by the sound of several approaching footsteps. Darcy strained his ears to hear them. The woman seemed to have heard them as well. Within minutes, scores of men appeared and on seeing the woman, all began exclaiming loudly. One man approached her.
"We have been scouring the countryside in search of you, Princess Elizabeth. Are you hurt?"
Princess Elizabeth?! Darcy's surprise was evident. Elizabeth smiled at the man. "There is no need to worry. I just fell."
"With all due respect, your highness," said the soldier. "Your mother has been very alarmed. You did not inform anyone before you left."
"I wished to be alone," shrugged Elizabeth. She glanced at Darcy wryly. "But I suppose that was not to be."
The soldier glared at Darcy. "If he hurt you in any way, your highness, just say the word and I shall see that he is punished accordingly."
Those words chilled Darcy and he was about to protest when Elizabeth said, "No, he was just trying to help me, but we lost the way. No harm done."
The soldier did not seem convinced, but he let the matter go. At this point, a physician appeared and attended to Elizabeth's wounded ankle. He proclaimed it to be simple sprain, nothing too serious. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but cooperated with him. The soldier asked for the horse to be brought so that the princess could be transported out of the woods. Elizabeth obliged wanly as several men helped her on to the horse. At this point, Darcy was a little dazed, but he slowly followed the procession out of the woods. As the princess's horse began to recede from view, Darcy strained his eyes and saw, with some pleasure, that she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes caught his and she smiled. Darcy's heart soared. It was a lovely smile.
~~
August 14, 1814; Royal Chambers, London
Elizabeth drank her coffee in silence, obstinately avoiding any conversation. She was in deep thought, thoughts that she attempted to push away from her head so that they would not torture her. She told herself again and again that she did not care, and one would have thought that she would have believed her own lies after such continual repetitions. But that was not to be. She closed her eyes and quickly wiped away a stray tear. When she opened her eyes she found her closest friend and confidante, Jane Bentley staring at her.
"How was the ball last night?" asked Jane in a gentle voice.
Elizabeth sighed and shrugged. "All right, I suppose."
"I see," said Jane, helping herself to some coffee, but not saying anymore.
After a few moments of silence, Elizabeth said, "Just say it."
"Say what?" asked Jane innocently.
"What is on your mind," said Elizabeth.
Jane smiled. "I suppose you know me too well."
"Yes, indeed," agreed Elizabeth with a wry smile. "So?"
"You are very quiet this morning," observed Jane.
"I have a lot on my mind, is all," Elizabeth brushed it off.
"Did someone upset you at the ball?" asked Jane.
Elizabeth looked at Jane for a moment. There was no use in denying the truth in front of Jane. She was the one person who was not fooled by her brazen exterior and who could actually see her softer, more complex aspects. Elizabeth sighed, avoiding Jane's gaze. "He was there last night."
Jane was puzzled for a moment, then she gasped. "Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth nodded. "Oh my! Did he see you?"
"Of course," said Elizabeth. "He came and paid his respects."
"And did you speak with him?" asked Jane. "Privately, that is."
"Yes," replied Elizabeth. "That is, only for a few minutes."
"And?" persisted Jane, her curiosity ablaze.
"Nothing," shrugged Elizabeth.
"You mean he did not mention the engagement?" Jane seemed incredulous.
"Well, he did," said Elizabeth.
"And what did you say to him?"
"Nothing," said Elizabeth softly.
"You mean he still does not know why! Elizabeth, that is cruel. You cannot keep him in the dark about this. He deserves to know."
"Why?" Elizabeth cried. "It will not solve any of my problems, only complicate it. Do you suppose that if I tell him the truth, he will bow out of my life gracefully? No, he will never do that. I cannot involve him in this mess."
"But he loves you," said Jane. "Does that not matter to you?"
A few tears stung in Elizabeth's eyes. "Of course it does, you know it does. But this is not about me." Elizabeth sighed. "In a few months, I shall wed Lord Wickham and that will be the end of it, you hear me?" Elizabeth looked at her friend. "Jane? Please. I know what you think of him, but please, say no more."
"He is a snake, Elizabeth and you know it," Jane pouted.
Elizabeth did not refute that claim. "It is the only way."
"I do not believe that," said Jane.
"Jane, please, do not make this any more difficult for me."
Jane's eyes softened. "I just want to see you happy."
Elizabeth smiled wanly. "My happiness is hardly the issue."
Jane looked at her friend. "Who would have ever thought it would come to this?"
"Not me," sighed Elizabeth.
"What about Mr. Darcy?" said Jane softly.
Elizabeth looked away. "He shall learn to hate me, if he does not already."
"And you?"
"I will always love him," said Elizabeth. "But I am a wonderful actress."
Jane smiled a bittersweet smile. "I know."
Elizabeth hugged her friend and for the first time in a month, allowed herself to cry wholeheartedly. As Jane embraced her friend, she shed a few tears herself and wondered how she could help her. This is not over yet, if I have any say in it.