Jumping in surprise, Elizabeth quickly leaped back into bed, and thankfully, she was not too far from it.
It was just the maid. Elizabeth’s heart sank. She had hoped it was Darcy, so she could grill him for an explanation. The maid carried a tray of food containing a boiled egg, thick slices of ham, buttered toast, and a small mug of hot chocolate. Elizabeth’s mouth watered in excitement as she stared at her breakfast. At least she was going to be fed well. Her maid placed the tray on the nightstand gracefully.
“Your ladyship, Mr. Darcy gives his deepest apologies that he could not dine with you this morning. He had to leave on urgent business. He sends his regards and shall join you later this evening for dinner.”
Elizabeth was sorely disappointed. She fought back her burning tears; the last thing she wanted was to be left alone. Pull yourself together, the last thing I need is Stockholm syndrome. She felt defeated and wasn’t sure what she could do alone in such a strange place. Elizabeth asked the maid to leave her food, to which the maid obliged and stated that she would be back later to help Elizabeth dress. Before she left, Elizabeth’s curiosity got the better of her. “Please forgive me, this is quite embarrassing but what is your name?”
She smiled faintly in response to Elizabeth’s question. “It’s Millie, your ladyship.”
A flash of annoyance passed over Millie’s face before turning into blankness. She probably thought that she was not important enough for Elizabeth to remember. Elizabeth mumbled an embarrassed apology.
“I am sorry, Millie; my mind is so jumbled after the accident.” Millie gave her a curious smile and curtseyed. No sense in pissing her off, she might report to Darcy to beat me.
“’Tis all right, no need to apologize.”
Once she heard the door click shut, Elizabeth dug into her breakfast; she was in food heaven. She was pleasantly surprised that he fed her, and at how well Millie pulled off her role. The toast was exceptionally delicious, so buttery and rich; she felt like she could live off it for the rest of her life.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure whether Millie was a psychic or simply standing outside of her door, but she entered the room immediately after Elizabeth burped and finished the last bit of ham on her scraped-clean plate. Millie insisted on helping Elizabeth bathe and dress as if she were a child. Elizabeth was resistant; she didn’t remember the last time someone had dressed her.
“Millie, please, I can do this on my own. I’m not an invalid.” Millie stared at her, hands on hips, with a determined look on her face.
“Your ladyship, you could not remember my name. I am afraid that you will not know how to use a bar of soap properly!”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Millie, starting to retort back, but she was not quick enough before Millie reached for her nightgown and began to pull it up over Elizabeth’s head.
“Arms up, and no more fighting like a feral cat or his lordship will hear of this and he will not be pleased.” Her pulse quickened, and butterflies did somersaults in her stomach at the mention of Darcy. Her body responded automatically whether he was around or not. She wished that it was him helping her bathe instead of her maid. Lost in her thoughts of Darcy, she was slowly shoved toward the tub by Millie. She was submerged in hot water and scrubbed clean. She decided it was fruitless to continue to fight it; it was quite nice to be fussed over.
Once dry, she was dressed in a simple blue muslin dress. It was quite dull, but who did she have to impress? Millie plaited her hair and instructed that Elizabeth was to stay inside and read. It was Darcy’s orders not to overexert herself, and he was not to be disobeyed.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, thinking to herself that he was so bossy and domineering, but she found him endearing. She chastised herself. Snap out of it, get your head back into the game. I have to get out of here.
“I oblige. I shall not cross him. Thank you, Millie, you may leave.” Millie stared at her suspiciously.
“When did you ever simply oblige without a fight, and are you forgetting to clean your teeth?” She handed Elizabeth a strange-looking toothbrush and a brass tin-containing powder. Elizabeth looked at her as if she were crazy.
“How exactly do I use this?” Millie tried not to lose her patience and mumbled as she demonstrated. Elizabeth could have sworn that she heard the word “incompetent” amongst her ramblings. Embarrassed and slightly irritated, she dismissed Millie, foregoing brushing her teeth. It wasn’t as if her teeth would rot and fall out! Once all clean and with Millie out of her hair, she found her way—with the help of the butler—to the library. She chose a book and sat down, trying unsuccessfully to read, and despite her distracting thoughts, she found it odd that Darcy had a copy of the Canterbury Tales first edition. Impossible, the first edition sold for seven and a half million dollars. She knew this because her Aunt Jane had been a book aficionado, and voiced she wished she had the first edition. Darcy didn’t seem like the rich type, and if he had money to blow he could have at least made her prison more modern and invested in toothbrushes and toilets. She carefully opened the book and found a letter inside. She opened the envelope and read the letter.
July 13, 1813
Dearest Fitzwilliam,
I came across this edition whilst traveling in Canterbury of all places, it was in the possession of a peddler woman. I was shocked at how she could possibly own such a valuable item when she was clothed in rags and selling flowers. She was most peculiar, she insisted she would give it to me at no charge, I inquired her name and where about she lived, so I could reward her. She told me her name was Jane Bennet and that she did not need repayment. I knew this was not her sister, and I asked if she was a relation of your Elizabeth. A long-lost relative who lost touch. When I had mentioned this, she laughed and stated, “We have a strong bond as if were aunt and niece” I wanted to press further, because I was unaware of Elizabeth having an Aunt Jane. Before, I could ask any more questions, she insisted that I procure it for you and Elizabeth. I could not resist, for I know how you and Miss Bennet are fond of literature and I believed it would be fitting as a wedding present for you both. I am gratefully sorry that I cannot make it to your nuptials; however, I shall be there in spirit. I wish you many blessings and that you give me any grandchildren, so our legacy shall live on for centuries.
Your loving Father,
James Henry Darcy
Elizabeth’s knuckles went white; she felt the air punched out of her lungs. She could not make heads or tails of the letter. She ran her fingers over the words, but she could not fathom how anyone could forge such a document. She reread the line, “a strong bond as if we were aunt and niece.” Her thoughts darkened, thinking of her Aunt Jane. Impossible, this letter is fictitious and a coincidence that he chose Aunt Jane’s name. Disgusted at the sick joke, she blew out a frustrated breath, and decided to roam around the prison Darcy had built. She felt like a ninja, keeping an eye out for Millie.
She admired the painting of Darcy hanging on the wall. Vain much? However, goosebumps covered her body, and a chill ran down her spine. Déjà vu overcame her as if she had admired the painting once before. She grew transfixed and fell under a spell as if she were in another time period. Images of her approaching a grand manor house in a carriage with an older man and woman and a feeling of anticipation rushed throughout her body. Her heart raced, and then the sound of footsteps snapped her out of the trance she was under. She ran into the nearest room and shut the door behind her.
The heavy oak door clicked shut, and as she turned around, she was bombarded by the scents of beeswax and cigar smoke. Fascinated by the intricate décor, she walked over to a beautiful oak desk, and ran her fingers over the smooth surface. The sense of familiarity bombarded her, and she felt overwhelmed with confusion. She found it hard to breathe, and she sat down at the desk. She was hyperventilating, and anxiety pains tightened within her chest. “What is this guy’s problem? Either he is more obsessed than I imagined, or I’ve gone back in time,” she whispered.
She closed
her eyes and began to breathe slowly to calm herself down. Once calm, she was curious to look inside the writing desk. There were letters addressed to her, and without hesitation, she took one out and began to read it.
My dearest friend,
I appreciate your concern for my well-being and my recent nuptials to your cousin, Mr. Collins. Yet, rest assured, he is a kind and gentleman. We have an unspoken agreement that I give him his privacy and allows me mine. I know the thought of children with him sounds unappealing, but he has not shown any desire to consummate our marriage. I am perfectly fine with that. I do wish to have children, but it seems not to him. Do not fear for me, my dear Elizabeth, I am not filled with loneliness, for I have you to fill my days with your letters. I do hope you will come to visit me soon. I miss you dearly. Please send my regards to your family. Please write soon.
Your faithful friend,
Charlotte
Tears burned her eyes, and feelings of loneliness filled her heart. She missed Jo something fierce, and something about Charlotte reminded her of Jo. She wanted to meet Charlotte, and perhaps that would bring Elizabeth some joy, as she sat around here with nothing to do. She took out a piece of parchment, grabbed the quill, and wrote a short note to Charlotte, inviting her to visit. Elizabeth was not quite sure how to write it, therefore she was short in her reply.
Setting the letter aside, she rifled through the rest of the letters. She found calling cards, requesting her to attend parties. She would love to attend a party; it would keep her sane and her mind off Darcy. She wrote replies to five requests. She would not send her letters immediately; she needed to approach Darcy delicately before she invited anybody over. She was unsure how he would react if she wanted visitors. If he denied her, she would know he was keeping her prisoner and feared being found out.
She took her letters and left the study. She wanted to explore more, but she grew tired, and she decided to take a nap instead. It was midafternoon, and since she wasn’t allowed to go outside or do anything fun, she did what she did best since she had arrived, and that was sleep the day away. Pretty soon she would have to change her name to Sleeping Beauty because her newly found predisposition was ridiculous.
Millie woke her a few hours later to announce that dinner was served, and to deliver the news that Mr. Darcy was not yet home and that Elizabeth would be dining alone. She reluctantly ate alone and took some laudanum in a glass of water, or what she thought was laudanum. She knew she should have been more suspicious of the medicine she was taking, but she didn’t care. She was getting addicted to the stuff. It eased her restless mind and quieted the thousands of questions she had for Darcy.
She stood beneath an old oak tree; rain saturated her clothing. She studied the clothing that clung to her skin. She was alarmed to see herself in a dress from a different time. She hugged herself to remain warm, for the rain and cold seeped down to her very being. Tears burned her eyes, and the earth trembled beneath her feet as lightning struck the tree she stood under. The force of the falling tree branch knocked her to the ground. Face first in the mud, she felt someone lifting her up. Struggling to regain her balance, she wiped her hair out of her eyes.
Her body collapsed, and she fell to her knees before her rescuer. “Aunt Jane,” she whispered.“Elizabeth, my sweet child, you must find me. You must leave this place at once.”
“How do I find you? Where am I? I’m being held prisoner by a psycho.”
“My sweet Elizabeth, there are forces at work that you wouldn’t understand. You are not a prisoner, and Darcy is a lost soul, he is stuck in his past self just as you are.”
Thunder boomed, and lightning struck next to Elizabeth. She jumped and screamed, and her heart pumped to the point where she was sure it would jump out of her chest.
“Find me, Elizabeth. Inside, you will find the truth.” Jane handed Elizabeth a locket as she faded away into the mist.
Elizabeth awoke from her dream, startled. She went to reach for the laudanum and there, beside the bottle, lay her Aunt Jane’s locket. She grabbed it, and inside was an old picture of Darcy and herself, dressed in Regency clothing. Her hands trembled. “What in the hell is going on here?” She took another dose of laudanum. She wanted to numb herself, or hopefully overdose so she wouldn’t have to dream again or face Darcy.
CHAPTER SIX
Darcy was exhausted when he came home later that night. He felt guilty for leaving Elizabeth alone all day, but he had no other choice. If he was truly honest with himself, he did it on purpose. It was hard to be around a woman who looked at him as if he were a stranger. He needed time to clear his head and he thought he could find it at the bottom of a large glass of whiskey. Unfortunately, it only left him more confused and irritated.
Millie was displeased to see him drunk. She wordlessly let him know that she disapproved of his lie; the look of disgust on her face said it all. When she asked him if he had eaten, he simply nodded his head and stated that he would like to be left alone. His lips pressed in a thin line, for her eyes narrowed in what seemed like displeasure with his cold demeanor. He bit his words back; his nerves were on edge, he suffered from insomnia and night terrors, and his body had grown weary due to his situation with Elizabeth. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to judge him; he was the lord of the manor. He had every right to demand solitude, and he was ready to strike like a disturbed viper. He could easily release her from her duties and make it difficult to find employment elsewhere. Darcy instantly felt guilty for jumping to that solution.
He retired to his study, deciding to sleep there. He did not want to disturb Elizabeth as his guilt would only devour him. It would be too much to lie next to her, basking in the warmth from her beautiful skin, listening to her breathing softly. He loved her dearly, though Darcy could not bear to see the disappointment on her face from his selfishness. For a moment, he thought that he should not have come home, that he should have stayed away until he could be in the same room as her.
Perhaps Elizabeth was better off without him. He felt like nothing was improving with her recovery. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the cobwebs in his brain and poured himself another scotch. He sat hunched over, lost in more thoughts, and he drank until his pain was numbed and his thoughts quietened.
It did not take long for the alcohol to take effect. Deciding to save himself from additional strife, he took off his boots and reclined back on the chaise. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, praying that his relationship with Elizabeth would improve.
****
Elizabeth awoke surprisingly well rested, despite being spooked by her dream and by finding the locket. She attempted to think logically, that perhaps Darcy had planted it while she slept. Her dream was her subconscious, and Darcy wasn’t worth getting upset over. But really, who was she fooling? She was probably playing with fire; he hadn’t hurt her yet, he seemed to avoid her instead. Was it guilt for holding her prisoner? Though he didn’t treat her like one. Was she crazy to think her Aunt Jane really had come to her and that he might be Mr. Darcy, the one from Pride and Prejudice? He should have given himself up by now, but he didn’t break character once. How could he explain half the things he owned, especially the letter she found from his father? She tried to be rational but being in his presence cast a spell on her. Elizabeth’s body was anything but rational in regard to Darcy.
She didn’t want to get out of bed but decided to take advantage of having someone wait on her and had Millie pour her a bath, demanding that she would bathe herself this time. Surprisingly, Millie did as Elizabeth asked and left her alone, but not before letting Elizabeth know that Darcy was back. Her heart leaped and her pulse quickened, her mind racing with thoughts of love. She berated herself for reacting in such a way. She tried to act like she didn’t care- like she wasn’t affected by the news; however, she could tell Millie was not fooled. She rolled her eyes before dismissing herself, leaving Elizabeth to bathe in her denial.
****
Darcy awoke abruptly, h
is ears ringing, head feeling heavy, mouth as dry as the desert. A hangover. He ran his fingers through his dark, unkempt hair, trying to recall the previous evening. Realizing his behavior, Darcy impulsively started for the stairs, wanting to apologize profusely to Elizabeth, to confess his selfishness. Rethinking his idea, he began pacing in his study impatiently, waiting for her to awake and come downstairs. He acknowledged that it was cowardly, but he would rather her come to him. Deep in thought as to what would be the best course of action to approach her in her delicate state, Darcy did not hear her enter his study.
****
She sauntered into his study, locket in hand, hoping that he would cave and give her answers. Instead, she was staring at him like a love-struck puppy, unconsciously licking her lips as she admired his strong physique. Charles has nothing on him, that’s for damn sure. Jo would laugh at me if she saw me giving him the once-over. He is definitely sexy as fuck. Fuck Stockholm syndrome, it worked for Belle and the Beast.
Darcy stood there like a Greek god; his jet-black hair and chocolate eyes made her heart do flips, and her legs wobbled like jelly. She disregarded all logic and the locket. Chills ran down her spine as she approached Darcy. A tiny voice needled at her thoughts, poking holes in her thoughts of him kidnapping her. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she closed her eyes and saw Aunt Jane again and Jane’s words replayed in her mind, that Darcy was a lost soul, just like herself. Her eyes flew wide open and her heart beat wildly, like a beast trying to escape its cage. In that moment she knew the man she dreamt of and met in the future stood before. She steadied herself before Darcy decided to play superhero and catch her from falling flat on her ass. With every step that lead her closer to Darcy, her resolve and her walls came crumbling down. Her heart ached for him, for he was trapped in a time that was not his own and he was oblivious. She was hopelessly falling in love with him, and logic be damned. She wanted him; her body craved his kisses and fingers upon her skin.
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