Rescuing Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Beauford, Kate

  Without realising what she was doing, Elizabeth raised her hand to touch his beard, smiling as the bristly hair tickled her skin. Her face flushed when she recalled how it felt when he kissed her. She was still touching his beard when Darcy’s eyes opened.

  Elizabeth’s hand froze. Darcy looked down at her, noticing how she had been watching him sleep, her hand still raised near his face. He smiled and then stretched.

  “Good morning,” he said as he yawned.

  Elizabeth quickly withdrew her hand.

  “I wondered if you were awake yet,” she said, averting her face so he would not see how it burned with embarrassment.

  “I only just woke up. I did not sleep for some time last night.”

  “Oh, I am sorry.” Elizabeth started to sit up to pull away from him, but Darcy’s arm remained tight around her as though unwilling to let her go. “It cannot have been comfortable for you with me lying like this.”

  “Not at all. I have rarely felt more comfortable. I had a lot to think about, and it kept me awake long after you slept.”

  Elizabeth gently disentangled herself from his arms and sat up beside him.

  “I will prepare some eggs,” she said. “We should get started as soon as possible.”

  Darcy did not respond. Elizabeth went to the stream to wash her face and attend to private matters, and when she returned, Darcy had lit the fire again and had started the eggs.

  “Look how skilled we have become,” he said dryly.

  “Mama will never forgive me for learning to cook,” said Elizabeth, leaning over to observe his work with a smile. “She takes great pride because none of her daughters has anything to do in the kitchen.”

  “My ancestors are turning in their graves,” said Darcy. “How low the Darcys have fallen.”

  “It is most shocking. I cannot bear to look at you.”

  Darcy’s teeth appeared with a brief smile. He motioned for Elizabeth to sit down while he lifted the eggs from the pan and prepared them. They ate in silence, both lost in thought about the day ahead.

  Once they were finished and Darcy had put out the fire, there was nothing else for them to do.

  “We should go,” he said.

  Elizabeth nodded mutely. As they left their final camp, Elizabeth looked back for one last look. Such an ordinary place to hold so much meaning. As she turned around, she noticed Darcy had been doing the same thing.

  “How far will you walk with me?” she asked quietly as they tramped through the woods.

  “As close as I can without being recognised,” said Darcy.

  “There is no need to walk so far. You will only add to your own journey.”

  “You recall, Elizabeth, that you were kidnapped in the same woods outside your home. I will not be satisfied until I see you enter your house.”

  “You were kidnapped in those same woods.”

  “So I was. And yet, I will still accompany you. I suppose you will not object to my company?”

  There was a teasing light in Darcy’s eyes but also a particular note of emotion. Elizabeth had the sudden idea that he was not quite joking.

  “I have no objection at all,” she said. She would rather he leave her earlier in their journey. Elizabeth had the distinct feeling she would find it hard to part with him, and she wished for time to recover from her emotions before she returned to her family. The more time she spent with him, even measured in hours now, the dearer he became and the more she dreaded her loss.

  “What will you do once we part?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light. “Will you go straight to your home in London?”

  “I will go to Fitzwilliam’s lodgings,” he said. “He will ask questions, but I can trust him to stay quiet. I will remain with him for a few days before I return home. I will think of some story that might divert suspicion.” He sighed. “I look forward to seeing my sister. I hate thinking how these days will have affected her.”

  “It will prolong her pain for you to hide away yet longer,” said Elizabeth.

  “I know, and I do not like to think about it. But if people discover what happened, you know what will happen. I think that would be the greater evil, do you not agree?”

  The idea of Darcy finding it an evil to marry her made Elizabeth flinch. He might be kind, he might protect her, he might hold her in his arms and comfort her while she slept, but at the end of it all, he was still Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and he would still never marry a woman like her. She would need to remind herself of that as much as possible if she were to emerge from this with her heart intact.

  “I suppose you are right,” she said coolly. “Miss Darcy’s pain will last another few days while the pain of being forced to marry would last far longer. It is the lesser of two evils.”

  She could feel Darcy looking down at her, though he did not respond. They tramped through the woods in silence, both of them noticeably picking up their pace.

  25

  The surrounding countryside grew more familiar. With Elizabeth’s loose, uncurled hair and tattered gown and Darcy’s longer hair and beard, they would be unrecognisable to anyone but their own family and friends, but they still kept their distance from others they passed on the road. Much as Elizabeth felt relief to see familiar landmarks, her heart grew heavier with each step. Darcy said very little. When Elizabeth stole a glimpse at him, his head was down, and his eyes were grave. More than once, his hand brushed hers, causing her heart to leap. They avoided the wood from which they had been kidnapped, keeping to lanes instead that would lead them around the back of Longbourn.

  Finally, the house came into view. They stopped walking and merely looked at it in silence.

  “Well, then—“ said Darcy. His voice was thick.

  Elizabeth swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded.

  “I suppose this is where we should —“

  “Yes.”

  The silence between them stretched. Elizabeth blinked, her view of the house becoming blurred.

  “What path will you take?” she asked. She hoped her voice did not come out as cracked as it sounded to her.

  “I shall return the way we came and take the branch on the road from there. It will be easier, you see. Less likely to be recognised if Bingley should pass, or anyone else I might know—“ Darcy broke off as if aware he rambled.

  “Good idea.”

  Finally, they turned to face one another. Elizabeth did not know what to say. She found herself staring at the open neck of Darcy’s shirt, unable to meet his eyes.

  “Be safe,” she said.

  “I will.”

  “I wish I could know you will arrive safely in London.”

  “I will send word to Bingley as soon as I am in my own house. I am sure he will tell you.”

  “You will have a long walk to London.”

  Elizabeth could hear the smile in Darcy’s voice. “I am used to walking by now.”

  She nodded. There was nothing else to do but say goodbye. She held out her hand to him, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity and sadness there almost took her breath away. He looked at her hand for a long moment before accepting it.

  “I hope to hear of your safety soon then.” Her voice broke on the last word. She swallowed and blinked and looked away to hide her emotion, but a moment later, Darcy had gathered her into his arms.

  “I promise you will know,” he said. She nodded and clung to him. How strange to think that the easy intimacy between them would be a thing of the past once they parted. They would return to their role of impartial acquaintances. How would she ever sit across from him again knowing she had slept in his arms and he had held her and comforted her? Would she ever be composed around him again?

  She forced herself to release him. Darcy wiped her tears away again and smiled down at her.

  “The walk to London will be easier knowing you are safe with your family,” he said. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I could not have asked for a better companion throughout this. Goodbye, Miss Benne
t.”

  Elizabeth gave a shaky smile and slightly curtseyed, some of the old formality already creeping back in.

  “Goodbye, Mr Darcy.”

  She turned to leave. Their hands remained joined until Elizabeth was far enough away that they needed to let go. She hurried down the path towards Longbourn, not daring to look back. But somehow, she knew that if she did, she would see him standing there watching her, not turning away until he was satisfied she was safe.

  The first person Elizabeth encountered as she walked across the lawn towards the house was Lydia. She was sitting on the swing their father had once erected on the old oak tree, lazily swinging back and forth as though she did not have a care in the world. When she saw Elizabeth, she shrieked and jumped from the swing without bothering to bring it to a stop first, then raced across the lawn and flung herself into Elizabeth’s arms.

  “Lizzy, you’re home,” she cried, almost strangling Elizabeth in her excitement. “Mama was sure you were dead. She has worn black all week, and neighbours have called on her. I said you were not dead at all, and you had met a handsome man and were off having marvellous adventures with him, but she would not listen.”

  “Is everyone at home?” Elizabeth asked as she awkwardly disentangled herself from Lydia’s embrace.

  “Father is not. He has walked the countryside for days since you have disappeared.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “Were you with Mr Darcy?”

  Elizabeth went still. Now the lies would start.

  “Why do you think that?” she asked carefully.

  “Because he disappeared the same day. He went for a walk after we left Netherfield, and he never returned home. I was certain you had run away together, and all your talk of hating him was just for show while you plotted to have him. I told everyone you would return married to him.”

  “I certainly did not run away with Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “And I hope we hear soon that he is safe and well.” At least that was not a lie.

  “So you were not with him?”

  “You do not see him with me, do you?”

  “Well then, what happened? Where were you?”

  “I will tell you in the house. I shall have to tell the story to everyone, and I would rather not have to repeat it.”

  “Come then.” Lydia took Elizabeth’s hand and all but dragged her across to the house. “You look a dreadful fright, by the way. I should be ashamed as anything to be seen without a curl in my hair.”

  “I am afraid I did not have access to hair curlers where I was,” said Elizabeth dryly.

  Lydia’s excitement at her return was nothing compared to the rest of the family. The grooms and farmhands were sent out to search for Mr Bennet, and he returned some half an hour later with Mr Bingley. His eyes were wide when he saw Elizabeth, and he crossed the room in a few steps to gather her into his arms.

  “I was afraid to believe it until I saw you,” he said. “My dear, sweet girl. You have no idea how terrified we have been this last week. Let me look at you. Are you well?”

  “I am, Father. I am looking forward to sleeping in my bed tonight, but I am well.”

  Mr Bingley also declared himself pleased to see Elizabeth, but his face was pale and strained and his face almost broken with disappointment.

  “You were not with Darcy?” he asked. The anguish on his face almost broke Elizabeth’s heart. It felt far worse to lie to him than anyone else. The man looked like he had not slept for a week.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I am told he was missing as well.”

  Bingley nodded. “At the same time as you. We hoped you were at least together. Not that we wanted your reputation to be damaged, Miss Elizabeth, but we thought it the greatest chance for both your safety. I thought he had interrupted the people who stole from my house.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. She and Darcy had agreed that she would claim that story.

  “They took me,” she said. “I am very sorry about Mr Darcy. If you hear from him, will you tell me at once? Having been in danger myself, I will naturally want to know he is safe.”

  “Of course I will,” said Bingley.

  “Such wretched scoundrels to take a young woman,” said Mrs Bennet. “Thank goodness you escaped them, Lizzy.”

  Mr Bennet eyed Elizabeth.

  “I was lucky. They grew careless and neglected to watch me,” said Elizabeth. “They did not injure me, though. One of them was quite courteous, and he kept me from harm.”

  “I am glad you are safe, my love,” said Mr Bennet, taking her hand and kissing it. “I do not know how I will let you out of my sight again.”

  Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “Now, we just need to hope Mr Darcy is also safe.”

  26

  Though Elizabeth had a comfortable place to rest, she did not sleep as easily as she hoped. All she could think of was Darcy lying under a tree somewhere. He would reach London tomorrow and be with his cousin. Elizabeth sighed and tossed and turned as she tried to find a comfortable position. The bed felt too large. It was too odd to sleep without Darcy’s arms around her. His presence had grown essential to her. And it was difficult to think Darcy was lying somewhere alone, possibly cold and hungry. She could not hear from him soon enough.

  After breakfast the following day, Mr Bennet called her to the library.

  “I hope you are feeling better,” he said as he closed the door and took a chair across from her.

  “I am. It is wonderful what clean clothes and hot food can do for the spirits.”

  Mr Bennet smiled and nodded. He steepled his hands and pressed his index fingers against his mouth as if searching for words.

  “What is it, Father?”

  Mr Bennet swallowed and shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable.

  “I need to ask you something, Lizzy, and it is not an easy question.”

  At once, Elizabeth’s mind went to Darcy. Her father must not believe they had not been together. What would they do if Mr Bennet insisted she marry him? She could not have Darcy on such terms.

  “Go on,” she said, her voice slightly high.

  “You were held for several days by a group of three men,” he said.

  Elizabeth nodded. “There was a woman in the household, so I was not unchaperoned.”

  Mr Bennet smiled weakly at the joke. He rubbed his hand along the side of his whiskered face, his gaze bouncing around the room and not settling on anything in particular.

  “We might avoid too much of a stain on your reputation,” he said. “Perhaps we can say you were left with a female relative. But I need to know, though I dread to ask; they did not interfere with you in any way?”

  Elizabeth suddenly understood the reason for her father’s discomfort. She blushed.

  “Do you mean —“ She allowed the question to dangle delicately.

  Mr Bennet nodded abruptly. “Yes. Exactly that.”

  “No, they did not. I mean that Father,” she said at his worried look. “They meant to ask for money for me, and they knew they could not do that if they had — interfered with me. My virtue is still as it was.”

  Mr Bennet’s voice was gruff with emotion. “Believe it or not, my concern is for more than your virtue. I could not have born it if you had been hurt in that or any other way, my dear. I am so happy you are well.” He reached across to take her hand and smiled at her. “We were so sure you were with Mr Darcy. It was our one comfort that you had been taken together. At least he would have cared for you.”

  Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “I thought you did not care for him?”

  “Oh, I do not particularly care for him, but I think he is no less the black-hearted villain than most young men. I think he is a man of honour, even if he is also proud and arrogant. I hope he is well.”

  “So do I,” said Elizabeth faintly.

  Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon being brought to Meryton with her mother and sisters. Everyone ran to her to know what had happened. Elizabeth was careful to talk of the thief’s grandmo
ther and how she was never alone with the men. Some of her neighbours looked sceptical, and though there were some raised eyebrows, most seemed content with her explanation.

  Lydia and Kitty had run to meet the officers, and they returned with a group of them all eager to see Elizabeth and congratulate her on her safe return.

  “If we discover who the rogues are, we shall take care of them, Miss Elizabeth. You can be sure of that,” said Denny.

  Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Denny. Let us hope they return this way then.”

  But her eyes sought one man. Mr Wickham, the man who had almost captured her heart before she was taken, stood a little apart from his friends, his eyes sad. As the group walked on, Elizabeth fell into step with him.

  “Forgive me if I am silent,” he said. “I am overcome with emotion to see you again. I feared the very worst.”

  “Then I am glad to put your mind at ease,” said Elizabeth.

  Wickham hesitated. “I suppose you have heard,” he said hesitatingly, “that Darcy has disappeared as well? The same night as you. He went for a walk and never returned to Netherfield Park.”

  Elizabeth’s heart raced at the mention of Darcy’s name. She did not know if she wished to speak of him to Wickham. Darcy had hurt Wickham immeasurably, yet he had cared for her and protected her. Wickham had a right to his resentment, and yet it felt disloyal to speak of what he had done after all he had done for her. Especially when Elizabeth still had not received word that he was well. The following two days would not pass soon enough.

  “I have heard of it,” she said. “I pray for his safe return.” That part, at least, was true.