“Awake, are we? Now you just do as you’re told and no harm will come.”
The voice, soft and cultured, was a sharp contrast to the appearance of the figure before her. A tall, gaunt woman of middle years, had greasy hair gone grey, matching the deep crimson of her threadbare dress. Only the apron she wore was spotless and new. If Elizabeth were to guess, the woman had once held a much higher position, and years of lean had aged her prematurely. Rubbing her wrists, she struggled to sit, as her limbs readjusted to regular movement, but made no attempt at speech.
“A quiet one? Now that is not what was expected. Your father said you would be fighting us every step of the way. My boys said you were an easy catch.”
“My father? My father would never treat me this way.” Elizabeth asked innocently.
“Oh, come now, don’t be coy with me Lady Rosamund. You know Lord Upton wants his grandson.”
“Lord Upton? My father is William Bennet of Longbourn, and I am Elizabeth Darcy… of Pemberley!”
Elizabeth had not expected to hear such anger in her own voice, but it could not be helped. How dare Peter Endicott orchestrate the abduction of his daughter? And botch it to boot!
“Are you now? Well isn’t that nice… Lord Upton warned that you were also a liar. Not that it matters, be whomever you want. As you and I will be together for a while, I suggest you pay close attention to my rules, because I only care about the child… you matter not.”
Her eyes had taken a malicious glint as the words were spoken and Elizabeth knew she had no alternative but to obey. In that one thing, she and her captors were in agreement. The child was most important and Elizabeth would do nothing to jeopardize its safety. But that did not mean she would be complacent; it was not her way. Staring directly into the woman’s eyes, Elizabeth’s defiance was all too apparent, but was met with a laugh of derision.
“First… if you scream there is no one to hear you. We are miles from the nearest house, and I shall be forced to stuff your mouth. Perhaps the taste of a soiled stocking will change your mind. Second, do not try to run away. In your condition, you will not get far and there are guards outside. If you think to bribe them, think again, they only answer to their dear old Auntie. Lord Upton can override anything you could offer and besides, he has already been most generous. And I should hate to be forced to bind you again; ladies in your condition have needs and it would not be good for the child if its mother stinks of stale urine. In a few weeks, once the child arrives you will be placed on a ship to Australia… I suggest you take it without complaint, the other choice is not so pleasant. Let us just say that Lord Upton will not tolerate any loose ends. Am I understood?”
Nodding in silent agreement, Elizabeth swallowed hard and did nothing in her mannerisms to suggest a desire to escape. But if the chance came, she would take the opportunity. However, as the light increased and she was able to better study her surroundings, the more futile that option became. Heavy iron bars crisscrossed the two small windows that were set high in a far wall opposite the only door. Aside from the bed upon which she lay, there was a rough-hewn table with two chairs and a rodent chewed screen in one corner that made the barest attempt at concealing a foul-smelling chamber pot. The walls themselves, dripped with damp, suggesting that the chamber was earthbound, perhaps a dugout or cellar of some sort. It was indeed, a prisoner’s cell, but where was she? Would Darcy ever find her or would her fate be to perish alone?
*****
A few miles away, in a chamber very different from the one in which his wife was held, Fitzwilliam Darcy felt like the most useless person that ever lived. All of his money and influence was of no value when it came to discovering Elizabeth’s whereabouts. As the hours passed, he felt the growing knot in his stomach eat away at his resolve. The desire to storm into Upton Chase and demand his wife had been overwhelming, and it had taken more than the calm rationale of the local magistrate to keep him from doing so.
“You cannot simply barge into the home of a peer and make such accusations, especially when we have no real proof. You are a very wealthy man, anyone could have taken her,” Sir Edmund Harker stated flatly. As magistrate for the county containing both Pemberley and Upton Chase, he was not about to see Darcy up on charges, especially not from Peter Endicott. Lord Upton’s reputation was legendary, but what a man did to his daughter was accepted. It was not the same as abducting another man’s wife.
“If Miss Runnymede says it was her brother, that is good enough for me. Besides, you were not there when he threatened Rosamund… I do believe he might have killed her if not for the want of an heir,” Darcy insisted.
“Indeed, he might have, but that very thing is in our favor. I doubt he will do anything to cause harm to Elizabeth or the baby… at least until it is born. That buys us some time, but I do suggest we pay the old man a visit, but not until a thorough search has been conducted. We must be absolutely assured of his part. a person’s guilt is often easily confessed when confronted with those wronged, but Peter Endicott has never taken blame for anything in his life, it is unlikely he will now without proof,” Harker suggested.
“I don’t know if I will be able to control myself,” Darcy admitted.
“You will… for Elizabeth’s sake. Until then, I suggest we do not let on that she is missing. Let us say that she is gone visiting her parents. That will give us time to not only search the area surrounding his house, but also send word to Rosamund. We will require her assistance as well. If Peter does have Elizabeth by mistake, seeing Rosamund may shock him a bit.”
~Twenty-four~
For the next two weeks, Darcy nearly went mad with frustration. Having accompanied men into the woods near Upton Chase, they had come away with no further information. The estate, overgrown and unkept, had few working farms and little to no industry. It was as if Peter Endicott had stopped caring about anything years ago. Until now, what he did with his property had been no one’s concern but his own, but it made the search for Elizabeth difficult to the point of impossible. Many of the structures that once performed essential functions now lay derelict, cobwebs and ivy taking over industry. The tenants, living in the basest of poverty, shunned the inquisition of outsiders on the best of terms and had not been forthcoming with any useful information. For all intents, Upton Chase was lost in time and forgotten, its residents fearful, hiding behind ragged curtains when riders approached. But at least it was unlikely that anyone would carry word of their presence to Peter for fear of punishment. Even the assistance from the ladies at the academy had not proved fruitful. Although people were more inclined to speak with women than a well-dressed aristocrat, not a word of Elizabeth was spoken.
“She could be anywhere, even right under our noses and no one willing to say a word!” Darcy fumed as another cottage refused his knock.
As of yet, true to his promise to Edmund Harker, he had not approached Peter directly. Although the doors of Upton Chase had never been closed to any Darcy, he knew that if he made any accusations without evidence, there would be hell to pay. But by the third week, he was past caring. Thoughts of Elizabeth being cold and hungry, at the mercy of a man who cared not a whit for anything but his own desires, sickened him. If the worst happened and Elizabeth or the child died, he vowed to kill Peter Endicott himself and damn the consequences.
Of these actions, Lord Upton was completely oblivious. His hired men, having completed the first part of their task, reported that his future grandchild was well hidden. With this accomplished, he had dispatched a midwife of less than respectable reputation to see to the birth. He and Mamie Rogers had much history together. Once a woman valued for her expertise, she had fallen onto the wrong side of the law for her extra services to women who found themselves with child and did not wish to be so. More than once, Peter had sent a maid to have his bastards taken care of. He had paid handsomely for Mamie’s secrecy, even after her three years in prison. She owed him dearly for seeing to her early release and knew the consequences of not keeping he
r end. Insisting upon a regular report, he poured himself a brandy and awaited her arrival. It would be hours before she came, avoiding observation, long after the regular servants retired, and the time alone made him maudlin. Speaking aloud to an empty chamber, Peter Endicott made plans for the future Lord Upton, as yet unborn.
“Of course, you will go to Cambridge, all Endicotts study there… well, except for myself, but I should have made quite a show had matters here not been so pressing. You, dear child, shall be an excellent scholar, but first, I suppose a name is in order. Something strong…”
“How about Freddie?” a gravely female voice suggested from the open doorway.
Glancing up sharply, Peter Endicott halted his monologue and stared down the person who dared intrude upon his privacy. Few were those who felt the freedom to speak with insolence in his presence, but Mamie Rogers was one.
“Absolutely not! My heir will not be given any such commonality… Harrison strikes my fancy, but I may change my mind, not that your opinion matters. I trust my daughter is faring well enough? The child?”
“Indeed, they do, but I must say, Lady Rosamund is a bit of a hellion. Told us all sorts of lies, just as you said. She reminds me of a trapped fox with all that wild chestnut colored hair, but she will settle down eventually. I expect the child to arrive any day now.”
Expecting her employer to be pleased with the report, the midwife took a small step backwards when his face suddenly drained of all color, matching a countenance of confused shock.
“What did you say?” he whispered.
“The…the child, due in a few days. Is that not excellent?”
“Not that! Her hair! Rosamund is fair haired… a golden child she was… still is! Who the hell have you gotten? Did you think to pass of some whore’s brat as my heir?”
“N…no sir… It was Malcom and Johnny who took her, not me!” she stammered as fear rushed through her bones. The woman had been telling the truth! There would be hell to pay. Now, all she could do was save her own self. Pulling herself up to a full height of five feet, Mamie Rogers pointed an accusatory finger directly at Peter Endicott. She was not about to take blame for anyone’s mistake.
“She…she said her name was Ellie… or Eliza… something like that. But I thought she was lying… you said Lady Rosamund was a great liar. And seeing how I have never been introduced to the grand lady, how would I know?”
“Why would I introduce my daughter to a back-alley abortionist?” Peter snapped, slamming his fist down upon his desk with enough force to send his brandy glass cascading to the floor. Ignoring the broken shards, he stepped past them to pull open a flat case that lay on a nearby table. Inside were a row of miniatures, the first, of his wife, the others, his only child, one as a young girl, the other more recent. Taking the last, he held it out to the midwife.
“This is my daughter!”
“Hrmph… well, I can assure you that is not the same person. What do you want us to do with her?”
“Make her go away. And see to it that there is no trace left behind. Tell those two idiots that they won’t be getting paid a cent until its done and my daughter is found.”
“As you wish, I will see to it,” insisted the midwife and quickly scurried from his presence. This was supposed to be an easy job, one that paid well enough to permit the purchase of a small house somewhere far away from the reach of Peter Endicott. But now, that plan was nearly in ruins. That was what she got for trusting family, but no more. If necessary, she would do the deed herself and then disappear. Her days of paying penance to Peter Endicott were over.
~Twenty-Five~
As the search for Elizabeth continued, she did her best to manifest a course of action that would result in her release. Even if it simply meant just allowing her to leave. Surely, she could not be so far away from another dwelling as told? Once a day, supplies were brought, sometimes by carriage, others on horseback. Her primary captor, whose name she learned was Mamie, only visited in the mornings, leaving many hours of boredom to be passed in isolation. None of the men guarding her prison spoke a single word. Of them, Elizabeth only noticed two, but neither acknowledged her presence and took all direction from the old woman. With nothing to distract, Elizabeth found her hearing to be sharpened and the slightest noise alerted her attention. By the second week, she knew each person’s footsteps and how often they circled the cellar. For it was indeed a cellar in which she was kept. Taking care not to fall, she had climbed up on a chair to peer out one of the barred windows. The single room was half buried in a hillside that was covered in brambles, but it gave her a clear vantage of the surrounding area. In the distance, there were only trees, marked by a single dirt track that served as a drive, but it too showed no sign of regular use. Wherever she was, it had been vacant for some time. If she were to escape, it needed to be done by daylight, for night would mean death out in the elements alone.
With this knowledge, Elizabeth focused her efforts on the two men serving as guards. From the first, she knew that no sympathy for her plight would come from the woman they called “Auntie”, but men often softened when women were in distress. She had also discovered that they were brothers, but of different mothers, explaining the lack of resemblance. Perhaps if she could convince one of them that not only would Darcy be financially grateful, but their assistance could result in leniency from the law. Studying the two in turn, for they were only together when alternating their duty as guard, she settled on the larger of the men. He was her designated keeper during the day hours. Although intimidating in appearance, with untrimmed hair and beard, he whistled as he strode around the dugout cellar and occasionally spoke to the birds as if old friends. The other, a small pinched faced man, looked more weasel than human and often spoke sharply, brandishing a large knife like a child’s toy. Elizabeth was glad that he took the night watch for she did not like the looks of him, but sometimes believed he too slept the hours away, believing her smart enough not to try to escape in the dark. She did not trust either, but desperation made strange companions, and by the beginning of her third week, Elizabeth had formulated a plan. No man aside from a doctor wanted to deliver a baby. If she could convince the big man that her time had come, he might help her. If it worked, she could be sleeping comfortably at Pemberley by night fall, and if not…she did not wish to think about it.
Deciding to wait until after “Auntie Mamie” finished her daily physical assessment of her condition, Elizabeth planned to make exaggerated expressions of fatigue. The old woman usually remained until just before noon, spending the hours bragging about her former life in London until Elizabeth fell asleep. At first, Elizbeth had blamed exhaustion and the trauma of her capture, but when she became immediately sleepy once again after eating, she knew that something had been put into her food. The longer she remained captive, the less likely it was that she would ever be freed, even after the baby came. The story of being sent to Australia was exactly that, a tale to ensure compliance. Afterwards, Elizabeth had done her best to appear to be eating, only to vomit it up once Mamie was gone. It had almost become routine, with no alteration in the near fortnight since her arrival, and the fear of weakness due to malnutrition was becoming a reality. She needed to escape immediately, and would attempt the following morning.
Unfortunately, upon waking, a steady rain had fallen and heavy drops pattered the sod roof, sending clods of mud dripping down. Overcast skies let in little natural light and the hours dragged by with no visitor. Even the regular fall of booted feet had silenced. Was she alone? Should she dare her plan now? As if hearing her mind speak, the mechanical creaking of a carriage arriving at a rapid speed was heard, accompanied by raised voices. Climbing onto the chair once more, Elizabeth watched the altercation with interest. Distracted persons were far easier to evade, but more than one would prove difficult.
“Where is that idiot brother of yours?” snapped a familiar female voice. Mamie Rogers had arrived, but was obviously in no mood to be cordial, and slapped aw
ay the hand offered to help her down from the carriage.
“He doesn’t come until dark; we take turns, you know that. Besides, the lady ain’t going anywhere.”
“She’s the wrong girl! You fools took someone else and Lord Upton knows.”
“What does it matter? As long as he gets a baby, what difference does it make?”
“It makes ALL the difference! He wants her gone.”
“Gone? Where am I to take her? Back to where we got her?”
“Don’t be so stupid. She will tell the authorities and then it is the hangman’s noose for all of us.”
“But I didn’t know… it’s all Johnny’s fault! He said it were her!”
“Well it’s not, and I won’t go back to prison for anyone. Now you just do as I tell you and this little problem will be taken care of.”
By now, Elizabeth realized that she was never meant to leave the cabin. Looking about frantically for anything that could be used as a weapon, her eyes landed on the only thing in the chamber that might be of service. As it was a gloomy day, she had lit the small oil lamp that was her sole source of light in the long evenings alone. Now, poised to defend herself and her child, she held it ready, for if she was to escape, there was but one chance. Holding her breath as the sound of the key being turned in the lock seemed to thunder, Elizabeth flattened herself against the wall behind the door. If there was to be disaster, the heavy oaken timbers would provide the best protection as it opened.
“Girl? Are you awake? I have a surprise for you…” Mamie said sweetly, but soon sputtered in her own astonishment as the chamber appeared to be empty.
“Where the devil…?” she began, just as Elizabeth sent the oil lamp crashing against the headboard of the bed. As hoped, it sent a river of oil coursing down the coverings, followed by a wall of flame as the coarse woolens caught fire and trailed towards the door. It was then that Elizabeth pushed past her captors and ran blindly into the rainy forest as fast as her unwieldy form would allow. For herself, she feared not, only the child mattered. The shouts of her captors only served to propel her faster into the wood until an exposed root, catching her foot, halted her flight as she was sent tumbling into the underbrush. But she was alone, and free. Scrambling further into the dense thicket, she curled into a ball around her abdomen, and prayed for rescue.
A Child for Elizabeth Page 9