Returning to Mr. Darcy

by Sheena Austin

  Again, as if he could read her mind, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You know, Darcy was a fool to leave you here and not take care of you until you get better.” His lips kissed her ear and she did not know how to react.

  Before she could, he spun her around and took her mouth into his. His hungry mouth crushed her lips, and her brain was numb. He became forceful, and she tried to push him away. “You saucy little minx, you know you want me, do not tease me like this. I felt how your eyes were undressing me, and I felt how your body reacted to me.” He growled in her ear as she struggled. “I will have you, and I will make you mine.” Her body went limp against his growing manhood.

  She snapped out of it. “You, sir, are mistaken,” she spat. She was stricken with horror at how her body just wanted to melt into his. When she heard someone coming, he quickly let her go as he saw Jane approaching. Elizabeth, as quickly as possible without giving away that anything was wrong, approached Jane and bid Mr. Wickham a good day.

  Jane whispered in her ear, “Is everything all right, Lizzie?”

  Elizabeth could not bear to look her in the eyes and answered, “I have a migraine; I must lie down and rest.” She could feel Wickham’s eyes as he followed behind them slowly, like a viper in the grass.

  Lost in his thoughts, Wickham did not see Lydia approaching; more like running toward him. She beamed, unaware of the scene that had passed a few moments ago. She ran into his arms at full force. “Darling Wickham, what a lovely surprise. You should have sent word you were going to visit.”

  He smiled. “My apologies, but I wanted to see how Lizzie was doing, and I have urgent business with your father. I wanted to act swiftly, and the message would have taken too long to get here.” He took her arm into his and walked toward the manor.

  “Well, I am glad for this surprise. It has been dreadfully boring around here. Everyone seems to be fawning over Elizabeth, and it is getting tedious.” Lydia did not like being ignored, and she was sure Wickham would shower her with adoration. Unfortunately, she was sadly mistaken.

  Walking side-by-side, they entered the manor, and Elizabeth still did not make it to her room in time. Her father stopped her, making sure she was all right. “I am fine, Father, only a migraine; I would like to rest, please. I do not want you to fret over me, or to take you away from our guest, Wickham.”

  He looked up to see Lydia and Wickham entering. He had a scowl on his face but quickly forced a smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit? You should have sent word, and we would have prepared a room for you.”

  Wickham replied, “I came to see my darling wife, and to see how Lizzie was doing.” He smiled. Elizabeth scoffed and was horrified that he was married to Lydia, this viper of a man. She shuddered. He noticed her discomfort, which made him smile bigger. “I also wanted to discuss an urgent business matter with you, Mr. Bennet.”

  Mr. Bennet did not like the sound of urgency and venom in Wickham’s voice, and it did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet shooed the girls off. “Go rest, Lizzie, and you, Lydia, please tell the maid to make up a room for Mr. Wickham. That’s if you plan on spending the night?” he nervously asked.

  “I do not want to impose, but I do have a long journey ahead of me, and I would be most obliged if I could spend the night,” Wickham said, as he looked over Elizabeth with hungry eyes. No one seemed to notice except Lydia, and it fueled her jealousy. With this, Elizabeth excused herself, as did Jane. Lydia lingered but finally dismissed herself once Wickham became focused on Elizabeth leaving the room.

  Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “This way, please, Mr. Wickham.” Wickham followed him into the drawing room. Mr. Bennet spun around and could no longer hide his anger. “What nerve you have showing up unannounced. We specifically agreed that our business was done, and my debt was paid.”

  Mr. Wickham stood too close for comfort and stared into Mr. Bennet’s eyes. “Yes, but we have another matter of business to attend to. No need to panic; your gambling debts are indeed paid off. However, I have come across new knowledge that you have had a dalliance with a certain young woman, Darcy’s cousin Anne, and she has become with child. If you wish this not to be spoken of to your family, she would like to settle this with compensation.”

  Mr. Bennet grew red, and his eyes bulged out; he was horrified. He knew his drinking and debauchery would one day catch up with him. “You would not dare speak a word of this to my family,” he whispered.

  Wickham smiled. “Of course not, if you agree to compensate her and do what I ask.” Mr. Bennet knew better than to decline a deal with Wickham since he knew Wickham was a devious man and quickly would go back on his word.

  “What is this you require of me now? How much is she seeking?”

  Wickham was pleased that Mr. Bennet was playing along. “She requires one hundred pounds a month and a townhouse in the city.”

  Mr. Bennet choked. “You are mad if you think I would agree to that! I barely have enough to pay that.”

  Wickham chuckled. “Well, you should have thought about that before you impregnated her. I believe you can find a way, or your family will find out.”

  Mr. Bennet mulled it over. “Fine, I will find a way, and what is this other thing you require of me?”

  Wickham’s eyes twinkled at the prospect. “I want Elizabeth.” His eyes filled with lust. “I want you to intercept all communication between them; I need Darcy to think she wants nothing to do with him.”

  Mr. Bennet again was appalled. “I could do no such thing.”

  Wickham stared him down. “Oh, but you can, or you will be ruined not only to your family but also your reputation with the town and others. I also want you to persuade her into thinking he cares nothing for her as well.”

  Mr. Bennet hung his head in shame. Was this all worth the trouble over one young girl? His business would be ruined, and his finances would dwindle without any income. Mr. Bennet let out a long sigh. “Of course, I will do as you please. I do not have one hundred pounds at the moment, but I will give you forty pounds for now.”

  Wickham, pleased with how the transaction went, took the forty pounds and put it in his coat pocket. “When you procure the rest of the money, send it to this address,” he stated, as he handed Mr. Bennet an address.

  “Now, I had a long ride, and I should love a rest until dinner time.” Mr. Bennet called the maid to show him to his room. Mr. Bennet told the maid to place him in the room next to Elizabeth, so he could sneak into her room later that night.

  Elizabeth was no fool; she knew Wickham would try to get the room next to her. And she was right. She locked the door from the inside and placed a chair against the door, so he would not attempt to come inside. She shuddered, thinking of what he might try to do to her while she slept. She did have a migraine but did not want to take anything for fear of being unconscious and not aware of her surroundings. She had to get a letter out to Darcy and beg him to take her back home. She was unsure how he would react, and if he would come to rescue her. She was not sure if he had stuck around and was home with their daughter. She wished telephones had been invented; she was going to go out of her mind until this was all sorted out or until she woke up. This was beginning to turn out to be a nightmare.

  “Dammit, Charles, I curse you. This is entirely your fault.” She wanted to punch someone or something.

  Wickham’s ears caught the drift of her mentioning Charles. He had more fuel to add to the fire to separate Darcy and Elizabeth since his associates had failed to remove Darcy. He reached for Elizabeth’s door and tried to turn the handle. “Elizabeth, dear sister, are you all right?”

  Shit, she thought. She did not respond, and he fumbled with the handle and failed miserably. She held her breath; she did not want to encourage him to try to check in on her.

  He was frustrated, but he did not want to waste his time any longer. He made haste downstairs and rushed past Mr. Bennet. Before he left, he gave Mr. Bennet a warning to think very carefully about their
conversation.

  ****

  Smart move, Lizzie, the last thing you need is Wickham storming into the room with guns a-blazing. She surveyed the room; there was a small writing desk in the corner. She removed the chair from her door and approached the desk. With each step she made toward the desk, her heart rate calmed down. She sat down behind the desk and rummaged around to see what it held. She found a journal, a quill, and ink. Curious about the contents of the journal, she skimmed through entries. They were mostly about how infuriating old Elizabeth found Darcy. She snorted. What a real piece of work. He’s still infuriating.

  After thumbing through mindless drivel, she picked up the pen and dipped it in ink. She began to write her thoughts. Thinking it was for her eyes only, she did not hold back.

  This is fucking insane, I can’t wrap my head around how I managed to time travel to the 1800s.

  None of this makes sense. Is it possible that I’m in a coma and I am dead? That would explain why I’m hallucinating about Aunt Jane. However, if I were in a coma, is it possible to conjure up everything in detail? Why would I conjure up the most insane things, such as Wickham lusting over me and having a daughter? If I were dead, is this purgatory or Hell?

  God, if you are reading this, in which I’m sure you are. Get me out of here, please. I beg of you, I promise if I wake up I will go to church and be a good Catholic girl. I’ll patch up my relationship with my mother and I will become a nun. I can’t comprehend why this is happening to me. Am I being punished? Was it because I allowed Charles to fuck me over?

  Her flow of thoughts came to a sudden halt when there was a knock at the door. She scrambled to hide the journal. She flung it on the floor and it slid under her vanity. “Lizzie, please open up.” She immediately recognized Jane’s voice.

  She ran to the door to unlock it. She opened it up to see her Sister Jane standing there with a tray of food. “Lizzie, are you all right?”

  Elizabeth nodded as she eyed the toast and jam on the tray. She unconsciously licked her lips and her stomach grumbled. She wished she had brought her hot chocolate and a scone instead.

  Jane laughed. “It would seem you are hungry. I must have read your mind.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It would seem so.”

  Jane walked past Elizabeth and placed the tray on her nightstand. “Thank you for bringing me food, Jane. You’re an angel.”

  Jane blushed. “Such flattery; what is it that you want, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Am I not allowed to compliment you without you thinking I want something?”

  Jane laughed. “Are you feeling fine? You always flatter me when you have a scheme brewing in that witty mind of yours.”

  Elizabeth sheepishly smiled. “Well, I would love some hot chocolate to go with this toast, and if possible to sneak in a scone.”

  Jane poked Elizabeth. “I knew you wanted something. Let me see what I can do to bribe the cook to make some scones.”

  Elizabeth hugged Jane. “Thank you, you are an angel.”

  Jane smirked. “No need for more flattery, your wish is my command.”

  “Before you go, is it possible to bathe?”

  Jane laughed. “Again, you use flattery to get something. I will send Lorraine up to draw you a bath. However, it is best if you use the bath in Mother’s room since you no longer have one and neither do I.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the thought of using that woman’s bath. She shivered unconsciously with the thought.

  “Oh, dear sister, are you catching a cold?”

  Elizabeth only nodded; she couldn’t voice how she felt about contracting some kind of 1800s cooties from that woman.

  “I will bring extra blankets up to your room while you bathe.”

  “Thank you, very much.”

  Jane left to fetch Lorraine. Elizabeth devoured the toast and jam, and no more than twenty minutes later, Lorraine was shuffling Elizabeth to their mother’s room for a bath. She forgot all about the journal that lay on the floor.

  As she soaked her weary muscles and used lavender soap, she closed her eyes and meditated. For being possibly dead, this hot water and soap are divine.

  ****

  Jane coaxed the cook to make scones and hot chocolate, so Elizabeth would have a treat. She grabbed extra blankets to make sure her sister wouldn’t catch a cold. She surveyed the house, so she could avoid their mother. She snuck past the parlor and thankfully her mother was asleep on the chaise, snoring. She loved her mother dearly, but she didn’t want to deal with her and explain that she was pampering Elizabeth.

  Jane knocked on Elizabeth’s door, but no one answered. Good, she’s still bathing. Poor Lizzie, a hot bath will do her spirits good. She lay the extra blankets on Elizabeth’s bed. She turned around and noticed that the curtains were open. On her way to the window she passed by Elizabeth’s vanity, and she caught a glimpse of her reflection. She smoothed her hair down and ran her fingers over her wrinkles. A hot bath would do my spirits good, as well. I have been fretting over Elizabeth so much that I have not taken care of myself! As she moved away to close the curtain, something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She bent down to pick it up. She studied it; it was Elizabeth’s journal. It was open, and she flipped it over to the entry that Elizabeth assumed nobody would see.

  Jane tried to resist reading it, but the peculiar words caught her attention. She gasped as she read the mad ramblings of Elizabeth’s thoughts. She shut the journal closed and hid it inside her apron pocket. I have to write to Darcy immediately! Elizabeth has gone mad. She quickly bounded out of the room and straight to hers to write Darcy a letter, pleading that he come and take care of Lizzie.

  ****

  Elizabeth returned to her room only to be disappointed. There were no scones or hot chocolate awaiting her. She did notice the blankets; the bed beckoned her. She grew weary and bored, and sleep sounded good at the moment. She crawled into bed and her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Darcy was in a foul mood after he left Elizabeth. He felt as if he had abandoned her, and he was surely afraid Elizabeth thought so as well. He knew not what else to do to keep her safe. He raked his hands through his hair as he stood by the fire. He had asked not to be disturbed, but his requests excluded Anise. She was sad and requested her nurse to bring her to her father. “Papa,” she meekly called out. He turned around and saw her beautiful smile and could not help but to break out of his foul mood. He opened his arms for her to run into and scooped her up.

  “My darling child, what is the matter?” He already knew and felt guilty. He looked into her eyes and saw that she was crying for her mother.

  “Papa, will Mother be all right? Why did you leave her, do you not love her anymore?” The words were like daggers to his heart. He had not thought about what it would do to her.

  “Sweet child,” he softly began, “I love your mother dearly; do not think for one moment that I do not. I did not abandon her; she is unwell, and I thought it best that she be with her family to help nurse her back to health.”

  Anise stared up at her father, unsure how to process this information. “Papa, wouldn’t Mother be happier if she were here? I would be on my best behavior and not once bother her.”

  Darcy pulled Anise close and held her tightly. He took a deep breath to calm the tears that threatened to flow. When she pulled away from his embrace, he plastered a fake smile on his face. He straightened up and puffed up his chest, attempting the illusion that he was strong. Be strong, snap out of it. Anise and Elizabeth need me. Blubbering will not fix this at all, and it will not avoid the bleak future that awaits if Elizabeth is lost to me forever.

  ****

  The following morning, after her disturbing encounter with Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth purposely sought out Jane; she found solace in her company. She felt a great connection with her, and as if reading Elizabeth’s mind, Jane sought her out too. Lost in her thoughts, Eliz
abeth tiptoed, trying to avoid Wickham, and bumped into Jane in the hallway. Both blushed with embarrassment and quickly apologized over top of one another. Elizabeth quickly pulled Jane aside and looked into her eyes with desperation.

  Jane read her eyes and knew immediately to seek privacy. “How about a walk, dear sister, to calm your nerves?” Jane asked. “But first, let us get a drink of coffee and a scone. Wait here, Elizabeth; I will go fetch the coffee and scones.” Jane went into the kitchen and requested coffee and asked the cook to put a bit of whiskey in Elizabeth’s drink. She only did this to calm her. Elizabeth was very happy with the idea of something to drink and to eat, especially after she did not receive the hot chocolate and scones the day before. Elizabeth was all too obliging and was happy with the suggestions. Jane returned with their coffee. “Here, dear sister, drink this; it should calm your nerves.”

  Elizabeth wanted to talk to Jane and ask her why she didn’t come back to her room. She shrugged it off; Jane wouldn’t purposely ignore her. She might have tried, and Elizabeth was too deep in sleep to hear her knocking.

  Elizabeth took a drink and thought that it tasted bitter. She made no comment since it was the 1800s and unfortunately, they hadn’t yet created flavored creamer. Jane was relieved; she felt horrible deceiving her sister. Therefore, with no sign of Wickham, they both snuck outside without being noticed. “Elizabeth, what is it that bothers you so?” Jane asked, concerned, and looked into Elizabeth’s eyes as if boring down deep into her soul to find all the answers she knew Elizabeth was hiding. Elizabeth suddenly felt relaxed and loosened her tongue.

  Elizabeth let out a huge sigh and began with caution. “Jane, do you swear not to think I have gone insane, and that you will not speak of this to anyone, especially Darcy?”