The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Victoria Kincaid

  “Passable, but not as good as my French.” She appeared a little startled at the abrupt shift of topic. “Actually I am at my best if I can sing it.”

  He smiled. “I do not believe that singing will be required. My plan is that if we are challenged by the police or military, we will tell them we are Italian, Signor Guillermo Rossi and his wife Lisabetta.” He raised his wine glass in a mocking toast.

  Whitmore nodded his approval of the plan. “You would never be able to convince a Frenchman that you are a native. But, they probably cannot tell if you speak Italian with an English accent.”

  “As long as we do not encounter any actual Italians.” Elizabeth said with a wry smile.

  Dinner over, they rose from the table. Elizabeth complimented Marie on the meal and on her cook’s skills, but Darcy noticed she had eaten little. Whitmore clapped Darcy on the back. “You have thought this all through. It is a solid plan.”

  Darcy did not enjoy nearly as much confidence. “I hope it will be enough.” The thought of leading Elizabeth into such danger was very disconcerting.

  “Come to my study and I shall show you my maps. The more you know about the geography, the better you can make decisions.” Whitmore led Darcy off to his study while Marie took Elizabeth to the drawing room for tea.

  The next morning they were up early and out the door after saying goodbye and expressing heartfelt gratitude to their hosts. They settled into the coach across from each other – as tradition dictated – and Darcy insisted on tucking a blanket around Elizabeth to stave off chills. Darcy rapped on the roof, and the coach started moving with a lurch. Darcy immediately moved so he could sit next to Elizabeth and hold her close.

  Elizabeth watched the beautiful French countryside move past the window, attempting to appreciate these last glimpses of her first trip abroad. However, it was difficult to focus on the scenic beauty. Instead she was torn between anxiety about how they would escape to England and the very pleasurable distraction of Darcy’s proximity.

  When she thought about how they would escape France, she was more apprehensive on Darcy’s behalf than on her own. The French government would most likely release her if they were captured together; however, Darcy could languish in jail for however long the war lasted, perhaps years. That must not happen! But what could she possibly do if they were captured? Pondering the question, she drew closer to Darcy, who shifted on the leather coach seat and stroked her hair with his hand.

  Dusk was falling as the coach rode into the small town where they would stay the night. The weather had been cooperative and they had made good time, only making a brief stop to change horses and eat the meal that Marie’s cook had prepared for them. They wanted to minimize their contact with the general populace; although the average French man might not harbor animosity to a traveling English couple, the two countries were at war. They could not take the chance that they might encounter someone who would alert the authorities.

  They stopped at an inn that Whitmore had recommended and Andre, the footman, went to secure lodgings for his “Italian” master, keeping Darcy from betraying himself with English-accented French. Their rooms were small, but well-appointed and clean. Andre had asked for dinner to be brought up to their room, so they spoke very little to the inn’s staff.

  Darcy watched Elizabeth with concern. He could tell that the trip had fatigued her – and that she was attempting to conceal the extent of her fatigue, although she could not hide the worsening of her penetrating cough. He had no doubt the travel was taking its toll on her health. She did not protest as he picked her up and placed her on the large bed’s embroidered coverlet – and her face showed relief when he suggested they retire early. Only one more day of travel and then we should be away to England, he thought grimly. If we are not captured first.

  Elizabeth awoke early as the golden light of dawn was just beginning to shine in. Darcy was still asleep beside her and she took a moment to admire his sleeping form. It was taking her time to accustom herself to waking up beside him, but the sight of his face always made her smile tenderly. As if aware of her scrutiny, his eyes opened and he gave her a warm smile. “How are you feeling today?” He asked, concern darkening his eyes.

  “Well,” she assured him. “And we are not due to depart for at least an hour. How will we pass the time?” She leaned in to kiss him, inhaling his deliciously male scent.

  When they separated, he smiled at her. “I appreciate the sentiment, my love, but the walls in these inns are very thin. Other inhabitants are likely able to hear everything we say and do.”

  Elizabeth pondered this for a moment. He expected her to express dismay and was perversely disappointed himself that she merely looked thoughtful, but then she smiled impishly, “I can be very quiet if necessary.”

  “Mrs. Darcy,” he marveled. “You are full of surprises.” Likewise, Andre was surprised to find that the usually punctual Darcys were late departing from the inn.

  The good weather continued all that day and they arrived at Dunkirk in late afternoon. Knowing that no boat would undertake a voyage so late in the day, they spent the night at another inn, attempting to blend in with the other guests. The night passed without incident and they reached the docks just as the sun was rising the next day. The port was crowded with fishing vessels, small cargo ships, and pleasure craft.

  With the help of Andre and the other footman, Jean-Paul, they sought out small, but seaworthy boats whose owners might be persuaded to transport them to England. Darcy tried to be careful about whom he approached since the wrong person might report them to the authorities. One fisherman had already turned Andre down rather brusquely despite what the footman assured Darcy was the offer of a very generous payment.

  Darcy glanced around the port. Most of the boats were big passenger or cargo ships bound to far distant ports. Before war broke out, there had been smaller sailing vessels that plied the waters to England and back daily, but no one would engage in such a dangerous activity now – at least not openly. The other boats of that size mostly belonged to fishermen. Darcy eyed the naval ships at one end of the wharf and hoped that they would not attract the attention of anyone on those vessels.

  Andre started speaking with another fisherman, one with a boat that seemed in good repair. Darcy was following the progress of the conversation and could see that Andre had reached an agreement with the man. But, as Darcy scanned the area, he noticed that the fisherman they had spoken to earlier was now talking to a group of men resplendent in the uniform of the French army. The man was gesticulating and motioning in Darcy’s direction. This does not look good, he thought. We should disappear. He tugged on Andre’s sleeve to pull him away from the negotiations, but it was too late. By the time the two had returned to where Elizabeth and Jean-Paul waited with the luggage, the soldiers, a group of five, were already approaching.

  Andre intercepted them. In response to their inquiries Darcy heard him tell them that his employer was an Italian businessman who had interests in England and needed to travel there with his wife. The commanding officer, a hawk-faced man in his forties, was clearly skeptical. He sauntered over to Darcy, standing closer than was necessary, and asked some pointed questions about his name and business. Darcy had invented these details in the carriage ride, so he had ready answers, which he gave in Italian while Andre translated as best he could. Over the officer’s shoulder he could see Elizabeth’s face, as white as a sheet. If only he could spare her this anguish!

  Darcy thought they might have the officer convinced. Several of his men seemed bored, anticipating no excitement from these “Italians,” but suddenly the commanding officer leaned very close to Darcy and plucked a book from the breast pocket of his great coat. Darcy’s heart pounded when he realized it was a volume of Shakespeare’s poetry that he had been reading to Elizabeth in the carriage. Hardly the kind of book an Italian tradesman would possess. The man perused the pages and then glanced significantly at Darcy, a small smile curled his mouth. Dread seized Darc
y’s heart.

  The man then sauntered over to Darcy’s trunk and opened the latches, ignoring Darcy’s protestations. He pulled out several documents and scrutinized them. Darcy knew what would happen next.

  “Il est Anglais!” The man announced triumphantly, waving the documents around. Before Darcy could react, two soldiers grabbed his arms and held him in a vise-like grip. “I arrest you in the name of the Republic of France!” The officer said in heavily accented English.

  Chapter 8

  Darcy saw Elizabeth blanch even more and wished he could reassure her. At least she could return safely to England; they would not detain a woman. He would cooperate, giving them no reason to be angry. Otherwise they might create some trumped up charges of spying against her, in which case they could imprison her indefinitely. He had heard reports of such things happening.

  “Your wife may return to England, but we will keep you here.” The officer said.

  “No!” Elizabeth cried, all her anguish contained in the one word, causing the soldiers to shift their attention to her. Elizabeth drew a breath to speak, but then started coughing, the longest fit Darcy had heard in days. She is worse! She will have a relapse right here in Dunkirk!

  Even at this distance he could hear the wheezing and rasping in her lungs as she coughed. Perhaps she was coming down with pneumonia; the doctor had warned of that possibility. Had all of the traveling triggered a relapse? Was the anxiety of the current situation worsening her illness? If she had to return to England alone, who would take care of her? Darcy turned these questions over in his mind, finding no satisfactory answers. There was no one who could travel with her, a woman traveling alone was vulnerable enough, but an ill one…He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. She was safer in England…as long as she could reach England.

  Elizabeth had stopped coughing and approached the officer, her face drawn and wan. “May I speak to you, sir?” She asked in French; her voice was a harsh whisper.

  “Elizabeth, no!” Darcy did not know what she had planned, but if she said the wrong thing, they would arrest her as well – which would be far worse. A French prison would undoubtedly be horrible, but he could withstand it if he knew Elizabeth was safe and there was the chance that his family could ransom him from the French government. Elizabeth glanced at him briefly – her face inscrutable – but ignored his plea. The commanding officer took her aside and spoke with her in low tones that Darcy could not discern –with Andre acting as a translator.

  Darcy strained against the soldiers’ hold, but their grip was unbreakable, holding him harder the more he resisted. He could do nothing but watch in anguish. Elizabeth spoke to the officer, but then she experienced another coughing fit, one that left her pale and gasping for breath. Andre was practically holding her up. Now Darcy was positive she was exhibiting symptoms of pneumonia, but how could she return to England alone? When she recovered sufficiently, she stumbled to Darcy’s trunk and showed the officer something from it – a piece of paper. Darcy was puzzled about what she was displaying. Most of his papers were routine correspondence he had received in Paris.

  Now she was speaking pleadingly to the officer and Andre nodded in support of her words. Suddenly, her voice started to falter and she almost crumpled to the ground, rescued only by Andre’s quick hands under her arms. Even the officer radiated concern as he helped Andre carry her to a nearby bench. Darcy attempted to lunge for her, but his captors only tightened their grip. Once at the bench, Elizabeth seemed to recover some and managed a seated position. But she was so weak and haggard that it was clear her recovery had been set back. She will never make it back to England alone!

  Focusing on Elizabeth, Darcy had not noticed the commanding officer, but suddenly the man was standing directly in before him. “I will release you Monsieur Darcy. But you must leave French soil immediately.” The man sounded resigned, as if he had no choice in the matter.

  Darcy could not fathom what had triggered this change of heart, but had no desire to question it. “I will. Merci.” The soldiers released Darcy’s arms and he rushed over to Elizabeth, who was still slumped on the bench. He seated himself next to her and placed an arm around her back to support her. “My love—”

  She waved him off, appearing a little stronger than a moment ago. “Please, let us go to the boat.”

  Realizing they had no choice, Darcy quashed his reservations about her health. The officer wanted him out of the country. Even if Elizabeth had contracted pneumonia, they must leave. He wondered if he could pay the fisherman extra to get them there faster, but realized they would be limited by the capabilities of his vessel. The boat did not even have an indoor room where he could shelter her from the fierce wind. Elizabeth leaned heavily on Darcy as they made their way slowly along the pier. The coughs decreased in frequency, but her steps were less steady.

  He helped Elizabeth over the boat’s gangplank as Andre and Jean-Paul loaded their trunks. While Elizabeth settled herself on a hard wooden bench, Darcy gave the two footmen his profoundest thanks and a generous gratuity. Watching them depart, Darcy noticed the French officer and his men standing on the dock, observing their progress. Obviously, they felt the need to ensure that he left immediately.

  The fisherman and his crew raised the sails and the boat glided away from the pier, causing Darcy to heave a sigh of relief. The sun was shining brightly, but the wind was cold and cutting; Darcy wished for a blanket to wrap around his wife. Sitting next to her, he took her hand, regarding her with concern, “Elizabeth….”

  She gave him a relieved smile. “I am well. Truly I am. My fainting fit was for the benefit of the soldiers.” Relief washed over Darcy.

  Darcy glanced back at the French soldiers, who were dwindling into black specks as the boat sailed into the Channel. “I admit to being quite bewildered by their change of heart. What did you tell them?”

  “I showed them the wedding certificate and explained that we had only been married four days. Then I explained how ill I was and that the doctor thought I was unlikely to live,” she winked at him. “I said I did not believe I could make it back to England without my new husband – who had never even met my family and who had married me despite my deadly illness.” She leaned back against the boat’s wheelhouse, looking satisfied with herself.

  Darcy shook his head in admiration. “I did not realize I married such a talented actress! How did you devise such a story so rapidly?”

  “Some of the story occurred to me back at Whitmore’s estate. The French are very romantic – even the men. I thought they would dislike separating a newly married couple.”

  “Is that why you wanted to get married right away?” Darcy arched an eyebrow at her.

  She tilted her head winsomely as she regarded him. “One of the reasons. I thought it would increase the odds of escaping France together. I also realized I have a very authentic-sounding cough, which I can trigger by breathing deeply. I thought I might use that to our advantage.”

  He drew her close to him, trying to warm her with his body. “I am full of admiration for your quick thinking. And even more pleased that you are not truly having a relapse! I was close to panic.”

  “I am sorry.” She took his hand and held it warmly in hers. “I should have explained my plans – although some of it was the inspiration of the moment.”

  “All is forgiven, Mrs. Darcy. And soon we will be safely returned to England.” He pressed an intense and relieved kiss on her lips.

  Hours later Darcy was gazing out at the water of the English Channel; Elizabeth’s head was in his lap as she slept soundly. She had been napping for more than an hour, he estimated, was so beautiful he did not want to look away. It was good she had taken the opportunity to rest. Although she was not nearly as ill as she had pretended in Dunkirk, he could tell the traveling was fatiguing her. Her eyes had dark circles under them and she had not regained any of the weight she had lost to the illness.

  Darcy and Elizabeth formed an island of quiet amidst
the activity on the ship. Around them the boat’s crew hurried about, climbing up and down the rigging, and shouting at each other.

  He stroked her hair, wishing that he could free it from the hair pins and feel each silken curl, but the fishing boat’s crew was all around. Although they were not paying him much attention, Elizabeth would not appreciate if he took such liberties in public. Still, maybe if he removed two pins, he could liberate a few curls….

  Elizabeth opened her eyes and studied his face, no doubt seeing him grinning like a fool at her. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes. I am better now.” As she sat up, she straightened her clothing, wrinkled from traveling.

  “I think we are about an hour away from Dover. I was concerned we might be stopped by the English navy since they are blockading the French coast. The boat’s captain expressed some reservations about the trip for that reason. Fortunately a couple more coins persuaded him.”

  “Perhaps the navy pays no heed to boats this small.”

  “I hope you are right,” Darcy said. They sat for a moment, holding hands and enjoying the sight of sun on the water. Then Darcy broached a subject he knew they must discuss. “Elizabeth, we must determine what we will say to our families – and how.”

  She sighed. “I know. It has been so pleasant, just the two of us.”

  “Pleasant?” He said in amazement. “Fleeing Paris, fighting off brigands, contracting a nearly fatal fever, and tangling with the French army?”

  She laughed. “But the other parts have been wonderful. I cannot even wish the dangers away because they helped to bring us together.”

  “Yes, the last four days have been my favorite part of the trip.” He smiled at her. “It has been nice to free ourselves of the need for a chaperone.”

  Elizabeth frowned pensively. “I think we should not tell anyone about our marriage until we have an opportunity to tell Papa.”