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Rescuing Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Page 6

by Beauford, Kate


  “Washtub. Board.” Lawson pointed at the implements. “Stove for heating water.”

  Elizabeth looked around. “Where is the water?”

  “You will find a well outside. Surely you can draw water and carry it to the house?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “And do not think of running away. It will not go well for your beloved if you do.”

  Elizabeth did not respond. She walked outside and took a moment to breathe in the salty air. Seagulls swooped and called to one another overhead. She walked down the little path Lawson had indicated where she found the well, keeping her eyes peeled for anything that might help her and Darcy.

  Though Elizabeth could outrun most of the boys in Meryton, strength had always been difficult for her with her slight build. She gritted her teeth as she turned the handle to pull the bucket up, but it was stiffer than it should have been, and when the handle slipped from her grasp, the bucket fell, undoing all her work. Elizabeth cried out and swore in frustration, words she knew but had never uttered aloud in her life. She leaned her head against the handle as tears threatened to overcome her.

  A rough hand pulled her back. Elizabeth turned in alarm but stopped when she saw Lawson lower the bucket again and pulled it back up with far more ease than she had. He did not thrust the bucket into her hand but turned and walked up the path to the house, some of the water sloshing as he went. Elizabeth hurried after him and arrived to find him waiting for her. He handed her the bucket and pointed into the house. Elizabeth suspected he did not wish his fellow thieves to see this small kindness.

  “I suppose you know how to light a fire?” he said shortly.

  “Of course,” said Elizabeth. Mrs Bennet had always prided herself that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen, but Elizabeth had been curious and had once persuaded the housekeeper to show her how she did it. Silently thanking Hill for indulging an inquisitive child when she had so many other tasks to complete, Elizabeth approached the stove to light it, constantly aware of the eyes of the three men upon her. She tried her best to ignore them.

  As she waited for the water to heat, Elizabeth went outside to open out the coverings to examine the damage. Her heart sank. The coverings were so grimy, so encrusted with decades of dirt and dust that she did not know how she would clean them. Hot tears of frustration prickled in her eyes, and she swallowed them.

  When Elizabeth returned to the kitchen, the water was ready. She gingerly attempted to move it, but it was heavy and awkward and threatened to splash over her.

  “Harper,” Lawson barked from the table. “Help her.”

  Harper muttered and cursed as he shoved his chair back with a scrape. Though Elizabeth stood back to give him room, he still brushed her as he walked by. Elizabeth shuddered and pressed closer to the counter. He grabbed the basin in both hands and carried it outside. Elizabeth followed at a slower pace, not willing to be alone with him where no one could see. To her relief, Harper dumped the basin in the grass, then marched back inside, walking by her as if she were not there.

  Elizabeth took the soap and set about scrubbing the coverings as Lawson had directed her. It was hard work, but she was grateful for it. It allowed her to be outside in the fresh air, and it perhaps provided another avenue of safety for her and Darcy. As long as she could convince them she was useful to them, they were less inclined to harm her.

  “You seem to have come to grips with it quick enough,” said Lawson. He had come outside and sat on a rock, his pipe in his mouth. “There won’t be much call for this work when you’re the mistress of Mr Darcy’s fine estate.”

  “I disagree with my mother about basic skills,” said Elizabeth. “I see no harm in learning them. One never knows when they’ll be called upon to need them. I am sure you agree with me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know you were not born to this life. You are a gentleman, at least by birth, if not by behaviour. You have to do tasks a man of your station would never expect to do. I don’t just mean theft and kidnapping,” she added dryly as she turned the mangle again.

  Lawson laughed. “You are right. Unfortunately, my grandfather trusted the wrong man, and here we are.” He spread his hands to encompass everything around him.

  Elizabeth turned the handle and stopped to wipe sweat from her brow.

  “Who did he trust?”

  Lawson’s lip curled. “A man with far more money and influence than him. He persuaded him to invest where he should not. It ruined my grandfather. And we could not sell this place, being so removed from everything. Besides, my father would never have agreed to it, and neither will I.”

  “So, why do you not take up a profession?” Elizabeth asked. “Or make the estate profitable again? You are an intelligent man. I do not see why you need to resort to theft instead.”

  “What should I do for a living?” he asked. “I am trained in nothing. Believe me, it was not me laying floors and mending walls at Netherfield. And we have no tenants to work the land or pay rent.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “You could farm yourself. Your family has lived here for generations. They must have started from somewhere. Why would thievery and blackmail seem like a better alternative to you?”

  Lawson’s eyes narrowed. “I find it much more satisfying.”

  “Do you? Much more satisfying than hard work?”

  Lawson laughed. “What would someone like you, or your fine gentleman, know of hard work? When have you ever done a day’s labour in your life?”

  “A woman of my class is not permitted to work,” said Elizabeth. “So I do not see why I should be held accountable for a system I had no say in creating. But with that life of leisure comes a certain powerlessness. I am always dependent on others. As for Darcy, even when he is away from home, he attends to business, writing to his steward with ideas to improve his tenants’ lives. He works more than most men in his sphere.”

  “Is that why you fell in love with him?”

  Elizabeth was so startled by the question her hand slipped on the scrubbing board, causing water to splash her already damp dress.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard the question.”

  “I do not see how it is any of your business.”

  “Perhaps it is not, but I ask that you indulge me, anyway. Why did you fall in love with Darcy?”

  Elizabeth kept her face to her work as she thought. What would a woman in love say? She had never experienced the state for herself.

  “I fell in love with him because he is brave and kind,” she said. “Because he works hard and takes care of others. He can be abrupt, and his social skills are lacking, but he is honest, and one always knows where one stands with him. He is strong and direct.” She swallowed. “I do not see how I could not love such a man.”

  “No indeed. He sounds an impressive creature,” said Lawson. He shifted on his rock. “And yet you did not come to Netherfield in all the time we worked there. If there were such an understanding between you that you were on the verge of marriage, surely you would have seen more of one another?”

  “I stayed a week at Netherfield before you arrived,” said Elizabeth. “And we preferred to meet where we could talk away from prying eyes. But we saw much of one another at social gatherings in our town.”

  “Hmm. I thought that Bingley girl wanted him for herself. She certainly set her cap at him. I never saw her when she was not attempting to hang out of him.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I cannot answer for Miss Bingley’s hopes,” she said. A small part of her was amused that Miss Bingley’s behaviour was so apparent that even thieves planning to steal from the house noticed it and gossiped about it. She almost felt sorry for the other lady. “I am sure she will congratulate us when she hears the news,” she added.

  Lawson put out his pipe, the movement an abrupt contrast to his languid demeanour. He stood up.

  “Yes, well, we will need to see about getting our money first. Make no pla
ns for the future until that has been taken care of. And do not forget to hang those sheets. No one here is going to work for you.”

  10

  With the fresh breeze blowing across the sea, it only took a few hours for the sheets to dry. Lawson had surprised Elizabeth by following her outside as she hung the sheets and throwing a bundle of fabric at her. She caught it and looked at it in confusion.

  “You might as well wash your dress while you are here,” he said. He nodded at the bundle. “Change into that.” He turned on his heel and marched to the house.

  Elizabeth unfolded the fabric to see a simple muslin gown that had been fashionable a few years earlier. She could not wear stays under it as hers were filthy, but it would cover her up well enough. She glanced between the house and a thick bush that would give her privacy and hurried behind to undress as quick as she could. It took some time with no one to unlace her, and she was not about to call for help.

  After much twisting and turning, her gown lay in a pool at her feet. She took some fresh water from the bucket and used it to clean herself as quick as she could, then she pulled on the new gown without waiting to dry. Unable to close the row of buttons at the back all the way, she fastened them as high as she could. She allowed her long hair to hang loose to hide the exposed skin, then carried her gown to the tub to clean.

  When the sheets were dry, Lawson took her back to the room. Her gown was of wool and would take longer to dry. Lawson assured her she would be allowed to check it and clean their dishes when they were finished eating. Elizabeth would not let him think he bothered her, so she merely raised her chin and assumed a look of indifference.

  “The gown suits you,” he added as he led her around the final turn to her room. “I thought it would.”

  “Who owns it?”

  Lawson shrugged. “A benefit of the job. We have lots of goods to hand, and who knows when they prove useful.”

  “You stole it, you mean.”

  “Look at it. No one wears a gown like that now, which is a shame because it is a pretty piece. It becomes you perfectly.”

  Elizabeth was not comfortable with his flirtatious tone, especially when she was still aware of the bare skin exposed underneath her hair.

  “But I suppose it is not as pretty as anything the good Mr Darcy can provide you,” Lawson added in a sarcastic voice tinged with bitterness.

  Elizabeth refused to indulge him. Lawson did not pursue the subject any further.

  Darcy crossed the room at once when the door opened. He took Elizabeth by the arms and looked her over.

  “Are you alright?” he asked urgently.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I did not injure your fine lady,” said Lawson, raising his hands to show innocence.

  Darcy looked down at Elizabeth’s new gown and frowned. “What is this?”

  “I was gracious enough to give your lady a new dress so she might clean the one she already had. See what a gentleman I am?”

  Darcy’s face hardened. “Did he touch you?” he demanded. He still held her arms, and Elizabeth raised her hands to rest them on his chest.

  “He did not,” she said. “I changed in privacy. He’s telling the truth. I just washed sheets and my clothes. That is all.”

  “It hurts that you do not trust me,” said Lawson in a pious tone. “I shall leave you to see for yourself that your lady is still untouched, by us at least, considering how we found the two of you.” Lawson bowed with mocking courtesy and left the room.

  Darcy’s eyes returned to Elizabeth’s at once. “Tell me truly, they did not hurt you in any way?”

  “Not at all. Believe me.”

  Darcy’s eyes searched hers for a moment before he nodded. “Very well.” He ran his hands down her arm to release her, but as he did, the untied back caused the dress to nearly slip over her shoulder. Elizabeth had almost forgotten that detail. She gasped and pulled the dress tighter. Darcy frowned. “What is this?”

  “I suppose it is your reassurance that they did not touch me. I could not fasten all the buttons myself, and I was not about to ask them. They did not offer either.” There was an embarrassed pause. “I don’t suppose you could—“

  Darcy’s eyes darkened for a moment, and he swallowed. “Turn around.” His voice was gruffer than usual.

  Elizabeth could hardly breathe as she obeyed. She raised her hands to lift her mass of hair over one shoulder, her face flaming when she recalled she had no stays underneath and her skin was fully exposed.

  She thought she heard Darcy’s breath hitch. He pulled the dainty buttons through the holes, his fingers brushing her skin every so often. Each time they did, she had to suppress a shudder. Neither spoke. When Darcy closed the final button near the nape of her neck, he stayed silent a moment longer.

  “Is that enough?” he asked.

  “It is perfect.” Elizabeth allowed her hair to fall loose and turned around. Darcy turned away from her before she could meet his eye and walked across the room to look out the window.

  “He is right that no ships come this way,” he said, his voice still low and gruff. He kept his back to Elizabeth.

  “Indeed.” Elizabeth looked around the room, hoping her colour would subside. “You cleared the mattress,” she observed. It had been pulled from the bed and beaten to free it of dust. Elizabeth could see nothing Darcy might have used, so she could only suppose he had used his hands. Or his fists.

  “I had to occupy myself while you were gone, or I should have gone mad thinking about all the possibilities,” said Darcy. “I cleared it as much as I could. You should be comfortable tonight.”

  The pair passed the time by pulling the mattress back to the bed before inexpertly dressing it in the new, clean bed coverings. Elizabeth wiped at her forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt behind.

  “There. We might be prisoners, but at least we are not sharing a bed with all manner of creatures.”

  Darcy’s eyes went to the stain on her forehead, and he smiled.

  “What?” she asked, a little defensively.

  “Nothing,” said Darcy. “I was only thinking about what your mother would say if she saw you now.”

  “I shudder to think. Why she would —“

  A commotion outside interrupted Elizabeth’s words. The sounds of horses whinnying as hooves beat on earth. Darcy and Elizabeth ran to the window to see. It grew dark now, and Lawson had neglected to provide them with candles, but it meant they at least had a clearer view of what was outside their window.

  Lawson, Harper and Farlow were on horseback, galloping out of the park.

  “Where could they be going?” Elizabeth asked.

  “God knows. A tavern, perhaps, or a place to meet other criminals. Or a brothel, or — I beg your pardon. Someplace they might find entertainment.”

  Elizabeth leaned towards the glass to follow them as far as she could.

  “That means there must be a town nearby. If we could get out of here and make it that far, we might find help.”

  Darcy nodded slowly. “It is something to keep in mind.”

  Elizabeth stepped back from the window and wrapped her arms around herself. She would not recover her stays or her thick wool gown this evening. And just as clearly, no one was coming to light a fire for them or even give them the implements that they might light it themselves. Her borrowed dress was thin. She could only hope the bed was warm enough because she could feel November in the air.

  “They could have at least let us light the fires,” Darcy said when he saw her discomfort. “I hoped there might be implements, but they left nothing.”

  “They have not prepared for guests,” said Elizabeth with a half-smile. “What will you write in your letter?”

  “I have given it some thought, but I have yet to decide how to word it. The ideal recipient is Fitzwilliam. I hope I can convey our whereabouts without them realising.”

  “Will he know what to do?”

  “If anyone in my family will, it is him.”
r />   “Are you sure? I would have thought the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh should receive it.” Elizabeth sat on the end of the bed, smiling slightly.

  Darcy looked amused. “I think you have heard enough of my aunt to know she is all talk. And she would not be happy to hear about my supposed betrothal.”

  “Because you are expected to marry your cousin?”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “You have learned a lot. I wonder who told you that?”

  Elizabeth’s mind wandered to Wickham, and she blushed. Darcy looked away and tipped his chair back.

  “If we can depend on anyone, it is Fitzwilliam,” he said. “We need to let him know we are here. I am sure we are near Southend, but we must know for certain.”

  “I think I can gain Lawson’s trust,” said Elizabeth.

  Darcy’s chair crashed to the floor with a bang as he sat up straight. “What do you mean?” His voice was sharp.

  “I mean, I think he is a little at ease with me. I am certain I can persuade him I am no threat. If he allows me more freedom, I can find information that will help us.”

  Darcy shook his head.

  “Why not?” Elizabeth demanded. “I think I might soften him. He helped me earlier, though he did not want his men to know about it.”

  “Oh, I know you could persuade him,” said Darcy dryly. “But you do not know where that might lead his thoughts. A man like that can be dangerous when he thinks he receives encouragement. I would not have you risk yourself.”

  “But I can at least make him think I am no danger. It might be enough that he lets his guard down and stops watching me .”

  “Elizabeth, I do not want you interacting with that man any more than is necessary. He—“ Darcy stopped and looked towards the door. He remained still for a moment, then crossed the room to listen again. Elizabeth was about to ask him what he was doing when she heard it as well. A low scraping sound. She tiptoed across the room to stand beside Darcy.

 

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