by Zoë Burton
“Oh,” Darcy began with a smirk, “but you and your aunt and uncle are no longer strangers but friends. With my friends, I am far more comfortable; I care about their concerns and enjoy their conversation.”
“Hmmm,” Elizabeth murmured, her lips twisted to one side and her eyes narrowed. “If you say so. You shall have to prove yourself to me, though.”
Another smirk crossed Darcy’s face. He suspected from Elizabeth’s tone of voice that she was teasing him. “Your wish is my command. Tell me what you want me to do, and it shall be done.”
Dropping her head to hide a grin, Elizabeth replied, “That shall do for now.” She looked up again, directly into Darcy’s intense gaze. “To be honest, the three of us feel the same about you and Miss Darcy. We greatly enjoy your company, and are grateful for your condescension and friendship.”
“You are intelligent and fashionable people.” Darcy shrugged. “That makes you superior company, in my view.” Changing the subject, he asked a question. “My sister tells me that you prefer the Bard’s comedies to histories, but she did not tell me why. What is it about the comedies that make you prefer them?”
“The short answer to your query is that I dearly love to laugh. I greatly enjoy histories, but one cannot always be so very grave and somber.” Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled above her wide smile.
So struck by her looks at that moment, Darcy almost forgot to reply. Mentally shaking himself, he admitted, “I had not thought of it that way, I suppose. While I do enjoy comedies, I confess that I tend to be dour, or so my sister tells me. That must colour the manner in which I look at things, even those that make me laugh.”
“I suspect it does. I have always preferred being cheerful. That quality seems to be part of my nature. I used to tell my sisters to look at the past only as it gives them pleasure, and I strive to do the same.”
“Even now, after losing all your family?” With the weight of his responsibilities, Darcy could not imagine following it.
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Yes,” she replied in a soft voice. “Or at least, I am trying to do so. I admit that some days it is easier than others. I never imagined a year ago that I would be the only remaining Bennet, and that I would be torn from the only home I have ever known.” Her tone turned urgent, “We do not know what tomorrow holds, Mr. Darcy. We must,” she clenched her fists before her. “We must grab hold of life, of happiness, with both hands, because it could be gone tomorrow.”
Drawn into the fervency of Elizabeth’s words, Darcy could only agree. Her spirit in the face of her loss and fear raised his. She is magnificent. Darcy looked into her eyes, his heart racing, until he suddenly realized he was staring and looked away. “You are correct, Miss Bennet.” He looked up again, happy that the strange hold she had gained over him had dissipated. “I learned that lesson when my father died, leaving my sister and me orphaned. I think this is why I value my friends so highly.”
Elizabeth blushed at Darcy’s words, suddenly uneasy. “Forgive me, sir. I sometimes become too passionate about my most strongly-held beliefs.”
Darcy smiled gently, a hint of his admiration in his eyes. “There is nothing to forgive. It is good to see you so passionate about something.” With that, he turned the conversation to other topics.
The friends parted that evening with pleasurable memories on all sides, and plans to visit the British Museum together the following week.
~~~***~~~
Darcy spent the next days thinking about Elizabeth a great deal. The realization that he saw her as more than a sister or friend had been startling. He had not expected to have such tender feelings for someone he had only known a few weeks. He was startled to realize that he wanted to know everything about her. He suddenly stood from his chair at the fire and strode to the window, looking out at the gathering darkness. Why in the world do I have this desire to learn everything I can about her? A thought popped into his mind from seemingly nowhere, a memory of one of his friends from school, John Morgan. Morgan had fallen in love the previous season, and Darcy recalled with perfect clarity the way his friend would stop speaking when his lady walked into the room, and the awestruck look on his face. Darcy also remembered Morgan describing his feelings upon sighting her; he said it was as though his heart had stopped for just a moment before beating again, but harder.
Darcy slapped his hand to his chest, gripping his waistcoat in his fist. Is that it? Am I in love? No, it cannot be. Turning from the window, he paced up and down the room. I barely know her. We have been in company, what, four times? That is not long enough to fall in love with someone, is it? No, it cannot be. It is not possible. Darcy stopped pacing to look around the room as though the answer he sought was written on the walls. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to tamp down on the rush of excited energy surging through him. Taking a deep breath, he ordered his inward self to calm. I cannot solve this mystery now. I will wait for a more opportune time. With the forcefulness of a man in denial, Darcy pushed the issue to the back of his mind and strode across the room, pulling the bell to call his valet to help him prepare to dine.
An Attempted Kidnapping
The British Museum was located in a beautiful home in Bloomsbury called Montagu House. The Darcys and Bennets arrived at the same time, having all come in Darcy’s coach-and-four. The Gardiners had travelled to Darcy House for a quick meal before the group headed out. Now, they stood on the walk in front of the building that housed innumerable artifacts from all over the world.
Of necessity, Brutus had been left at home. Neither he nor Elizabeth was happy about it, but there was not going to be room for him in a coach with five adults, or, in Georgiana’s case, near-adults. Though she outwardly bore the lack of her dog with reasonable calm, Elizabeth’s nerves were in such a state when she arrived at Darcy House that it had taken a full half-hour for her to recover her spirits. Darcy had given her couple of glasses of wine at that point, after quietly consulting the Gardiners, as a way to relax her so she could face the ride to the museum. It was a successful tactic, and a great improvement over the laudanum that Elizabeth had previously required, and she descended the carriage almost languidly.
Darcy and his sister entered the building ahead of Elizabeth and the Gardiners. Once inside, the five of them wandered the exhibits, pausing in each room to examine the treasures and antiquities inside.
Once more, Elizabeth consumed Darcy’s attention. His heart pounded upon seeing her in his house as it had when they last met. Refusing to consider his reaction to Elizabeth any further, he had kept himself busy with social engagements, his sister, and his club for the past week. Immediately, he realized his adamant refusal to think about Elizabeth’s effect on him made it that much greater when he saw her again. Worried, he could feel himself falling in love with her. He determined he would avoid her on this outing, but he could not. She drew him as a moth to a flame. He found himself trailing after her, looking for ways to draw her attention. His opportunity came when she stopped to examine a case of ancient Egyptian funerary artifacts.
“Amazing, are they not?” Darcy rolled his eyes internally at his weak beginning.
“They are,” Elizabeth agreed. “I find it fascinating the way Egyptians sent their dead off with so many goods. It is in total conflict with what the church teaches today.”
“It is, but then, the ancient Egyptians had not had the redemption message preached to them.” Darcy gestured to the display. “Are you well? Surely this brings up memories for you.”
Sighing, Elizabeth nodded. “It does. I was very ill after the accident, and then whisked away from Longbourn before I was able to heal. My family was buried without my awareness; I have not even seen their graves.” Her voice had trailed to a whisper. She placed her gloved hand on the glass of the case. “My favorite sister was Jane. I would have buried her with her sewing needles and silk. She had such a fine hand and enjoyed embroidering all of our dresses. Mary would have had her favorite book—Fordyce’s Sermons. Kitty would have ha
d her crayons and sketchbook, and Lydia … Lydia would have had a brand-new bonnet with all the frills and lace I could fit on it.”
Darcy had watched Elizabeth’s face as she spoke. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the wine, but she managed the conversation and the reminders very well. “And, your parents?”
A ghost of a smile quirked the corners of her lips up. “Mama would have had her salts with her. And my dear Papa would have had two or three of his favorite books tucked in beside him.”
She gave another sigh, this one deep, seeming to come from deep within her.
“You would have done well by each of them.” Resisting the urge to embrace Elizabeth, Darcy forced his hands to stay at his side. For one thing, they were in public; for another, he had no right to do so, and her reputation could easily be ruined. She had suffered enough, in his opinion. He would never forgive himself for causing her more pain.
Elizabeth merely smiled her thanks and moved past him to the next set of displays. Darcy followed, hesitant to leave her side even for a moment. He could see Georgiana across the room with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; having assured himself that his sister was in good hands, Darcy wandered about after Elizabeth.
Quietly, he trailed through the museum beside her. He felt no need for conversation; content to be in her presence. Eventually, she spoke to him.
“So tell me, Mr. Darcy, what you think of the theatre? I recall you saying that you did not enjoy social events, but you did not mention plays or opera, or even musicales.”
Hands clasped behind his back, as they had been for several minutes now, Darcy gave her question thoughtful consideration. “I do enjoy plays, especially Shakespeare. I like to see how the actors’ interpretations compare to my own.”
“I do, as well. I often find differences, both large and small, between what I found in a particular story and what is portrayed on the stage. Have you ever found the variations too terrible to watch?”
“No,” Darcy confessed, shaking his head, “though I have at times wondered if a particular actor had never bothered to make a study of a particular work. In my opinion, if one is going to become a Shakespearean actor, one had best conduct an in-depth study of the gentleman’s works.”
Elizabeth hid a giggle behind her hand. “That is a very stern expression you wear to go along with your serious opinion.” She smiled when she recognized his discomfort with her words. “I am making sport of you; do forgive me. I sometimes forget that not everyone is familiar with teasing.”
Blushing, Darcy was quick to reassure her. “I took no offense. You are correct that I am unused to being teased. I am not opposed to it, however, at least, not from you.”
Elizabeth blushed. Soon, though, she asked him something else.
“Of all the plays you have seen, which was your favorite?”
“Shakespeare’s?” At her nod, he said, “Henry V is my favorite. Since I already know,” he added with a grin, “that you will ask my reasons, I shall tell you at once. I prefer that work over the others because King Henry is described as being a certain manner of gentleman, one that I strive to be—intelligent, courageous, and a strong leader.”
“I can see that in you, that you try to emulate someone who is presented as a noble and just character. I think you do very well. I have heard my aunt say that the Darcys are reputed to be liberal masters in general, and that her old friends in the area say the same of you. Yes, you have done very well indeed.”
Darcy had looked down when she first started speaking. He was used to praise from females, but it had never been given in the sincere manner Elizabeth had. Most ladies complimented to turn his head and entice—or trap—him into marriage. Elizabeth Bennet, in the month that he had known her, had never behaved so with him. He knew she considered him a friend, but she had never treated him as though he was something special or extraordinary. To her, he was just “Darcy.” For her to think highly enough of him to say what she did made his heart swell in his chest. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked up. “Your good opinion is important to me, Miss Bennet. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Elizabeth fell silent once more, watching a group of people pass them.
As they began moving again, out of this room and toward a display containing a stone carved in ancient languages, Darcy cleared his throat a second time before asking Elizabeth about her favorite play.
“Oh, As You Like It, is by far my favorite. I find the idea of high society city dwellers trying to live in the country, in lowered circumstances, amusing.”
“You cannot see Prinny living in a tenant’s house?”
“Definitely not.” Elizabeth’s laugh rang out, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
They were joined at this point by Georgiana and the Gardiners, and the conversation moved on to other things.
The five of them spent a pleasant afternoon examining the museum’s treasures. As the hour grew later, they gathered together in the entry hall to wait for the coach to pull up outside. Elizabeth excused herself, and made her way to the small chamber set aside for ladies to refresh themselves. On her way out a few minutes later, a man dressed all in black accosted her. He was not much taller than she was, perhaps half a foot, but was of a stocky build and strong. He grabbed her, one hand over her mouth and the other wrapped around her waist.
Elizabeth thrashed against him, hitting and kicking and trying to scream. His hand muffled her voice at first, but when she reached her own up and scrabbled for the mask on his face, leaving deep scratches, he moved his appendage from her mouth to his head, allowing her scream to reverberate down the hall.
Around the corner, in the entry hall, the Darcys, the Gardiners, and everyone else in the vicinity stilled at the sound of a woman screaming. Darcy and Gardiner looked at each other briefly before running around into the other hall. Once there, they could see a woman struggling with a man, and they charged toward her.
The man let go, shoving Elizabeth out of the way as he sprinted toward the kitchen and the back door. Darcy continued past Elizabeth, but was unable to catch the criminal before he exited the building. Breathing heavily from the unexpected chase, he made his way back to his friends.
Darcy had immediately recognized the scream as Elizabeth. His heart sprang to his throat as she struggled against the stranger’s hold. Now, as he watched her uncle comfort her, he wished he had the right to do so. Equally, he wished he had caught the bounder who attacked her and doled out some much-deserved punishment to the cad. Instead of either of those things, he stood at a respectful distance, just out of arm’s reach.
“He got away?”
Hearing Gardiner’s angry tone, Darcy hung his head. “He did; I am sorry. I was not fast enough.”
Gardiner shook his head, “I am not angry with you. He had a few minute’s head start; I am not surprised you lost him. I assume the kitchens are down there, and if they are half as full as the rest of the rooms in this house, they were difficult to navigate. I appreciate the attempt.” Gardiner’s hand had not stopped rubbing his niece’s back. “It is the thought of someone accosting a lady, especially this one, that has me angry. It is probably better that he got away. I may not have been able to hold myself back.”
Darcy nodded; then, noting Elizabeth’s continued distress, pulled a flask out of the inside pocket of his tailcoat. “I brought this to help Miss Bennet enter the carriage. I had no idea that it would be needed for more.”
“That was thoughtful of you; I thank you.” Gardiner took the flask and uncorked it. “If it were anything stronger than this port, I would take a swig, as well, after all that.” He held the receptacle up to Elizabeth’s mouth. “Take a few sips, my dear. It will calm your nerves.”
Elizabeth did as her uncle bid, taking more when he encouraged her to, until the flask was empty. Then, he and Darcy whisked the ladies into the coach. As he settled into his seat, Darcy shared a look with Gardiner. They seemed to be in agreement that a conversation was needed. For now, though, they
watched Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana fuss over Elizabeth.
~~~***~~~
That evening, after the Gardiners and their niece had boarded a carriage and headed for home, Darcy retired to his rooms. The Gardiners had been persuaded to remain to dine, and they, Elizabeth, and the Darcys had enjoyed a quiet evening of food, music, and conversation. Georgiana had been cheerful when she kissed her brother good night a few minutes after the guests had gone, and Darcy was immensely pleased to see her so.
Turning his mind to his conversation with Gardiner, Darcy’s entire body stiffened. There was no reason for the attack that either man could determine.
“Lizzy never had a suitor in Meryton who might be jealous or angry, and she has been in mourning to one degree or another since she moved in with us, so there is no one here who might be the same. What other motive could there be?”
Darcy, as was his wont when thinking about a problem, paced up back and forth across the room, turning Gardiner’s words over in his mind. “There must be something. Have you any enemies or business rivals?”
“Well,” Gardiner began, “I confess that some of us are rather competitive, but I cannot see anyone that I know using a member of my family to get back at me. I owe money to no one, before you ask.”
Darcy closed his mouth, blushing at being anticipated in such a fashion. “I am sorry. In any other man, it would not be such a farfetched idea.”
Gardiner waved his hand. “Apology accepted. You do not know me well enough yet to be able to determine such a thing.”
Darcy inclined his head in acceptance of Gardiner’s words. “There is truly no one you can think of who would do such a thing? Kidnapping a young lady?”
Gardiner shook his head. “No, there is not.” He sighed. “Would that I could.”
“Then our priority must be to prevent such occurrences in the future.”
“Yes. I will make sure Lizzy is never alone in public again. Had Maddie gone to the retiring room with her, he might not have tried in the first place.”