by Hahn, Jan
“You are correct, Miss Bennet. I care nothing for their regard other than they believe who I am and contact the earl. Forgive me for the strength of my reaction. I have a sister who is that very age, and I cannot abide the thought of any man preying upon her youth.”
“I have known several girls who married that young.”
“Perhaps in your sphere, but rarely in mine.”
Oh, there we were, back to his unbridled superiority!
“Is that so? I understand that in years past members of the royal family have entered marriage even younger, but then perhaps they, too, do not reside in your sphere.”
“I meant no disparagement, madam, but I have observed that your younger sisters frequent society at a much earlier age than most of my acquaintances.”
I blanched at the remembrance of Lydia and Kitty’s forward behaviour at the Netherfield ball and of the way Mary had embarrassed us all by putting herself in the forefront at the pianoforte. Nevertheless, I bristled at his condescension and shot him a look that would have withered any other young man in my society.
The moonlight provided just enough radiance for me to see his eyes narrow, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I rose quickly, signifying that I did not wish to discuss the matter further. In truth, I had not the energy or strength for any further altercation that night.
Picking up the blanket, I looked around the room, wondering which corner would prove warmest. I knew that the stone floor would not only be hard but cold. If I lay down against the far wall away from the window, perhaps with my coat and the cover, the night would afford me some rest.
Then the thought struck me that I might be in a somewhat vulnerable situation. Only one blanket existed! I certainly did not want Mr. Darcy to think I offered him an invitation by opening it as though I were making up a bed. He was a gentleman and I a gentleman’s daughter, but I knew nothing of his private life — or his morals for that matter. Quickly, I sat back down and placed the quilt upon the table, not bothering to fold it.
He picked it up and held it out to me. “Take the wrap. My coat is much heavier than yours.”
When I did not move, he rose and carried it to the far wall. “’Twill be a hard bed, but this should be the most sheltered spot in which you might sleep.”
“Where will you — ” I could not bring myself to finish the question.
“A chair will do for me. I can rest my head on the table. Besides, I shall probably sleep but little.”
“I should think you exhausted, sir, after that dreadful ride. I know that I am.”
“Then let us say good night, Miss Bennet.”
I spread the quilt on the floor and, lying down, wrapped myself up in it. Since I had nothing for a pillow, I raised my arm and reclined my head upon it. I did not sleep for some time, though. The events of the day tormented my thoughts, and no matter how tired, I could not quell my fear.
Over and over, I relived the nightmare of our abduction. What would we do, and how should we escape? When I did not arrive at the Gardiner’s at the expected time, my uncle would most likely contact my father on the morrow, possibly by express even tonight, and my entire family would be worried for my welfare. I worried for my welfare!
I began to turn back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position. At last I gave up, and rising, I tiptoed across the room to look out the window.
“Are you unwell, Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy’s voice startled me.
“No. Forgive me, I did not mean to awaken you.”
“I was not asleep. Are you having difficulty resting on that hard floor?”
“Very much so.” I heard him rise and soon felt his presence at the window. “A greater hindrance is that I cannot remove the events of this day from my mind.”
“Nor can I,” he replied, “but have faith. I shall do everything possible to get us out of this predicament. We are both intelligent people. In truth, I have been attracted to that part of your character. Together we will survive this.”
Attracted? I felt a slight catch in my chest. That was the closest thing to a compliment Mr. Darcy had ever bestowed upon me. Suddenly I was aware of how closely we stood.
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured. “I shall attempt to dwell on that thought.”
“Shall we try to sleep once more?”
I agreed and returned to my pallet while he made his way back to the table and chairs. I found that I could breathe easier when he was safely across the room, but I still had difficulty sleeping, for I could feel his eyes upon me, and I wondered if it was but an invention of my fanciful imagination.
Chapter Three
His rough hands encircled my waist once more, but this time I faced him. As he placed his cheek next to mine, the stubble on his jaw scratched my skin, and when I pushed away from him, I saw the coldness in his glittering blue eyes.
“Do not resist me,” he commanded, and with one hand, he pulled me toward him. His eyes devoured my lips as I soon imagined his mouth doing the same. “I will have you, my pretty, no matter the consequence.”
Nearer and nearer his mouth approached mine, and I knew that I was helpless, unable to break free. Just as his lips brushed mine, I turned my head with every ounce of effort I had left and began to scream. Over and over, I screamed and screamed and screamed!
“Elizabeth!”
I heard a man crying out my name, and I screamed anew. I felt myself gathered into his arms, as he shook me slightly. At the same time, I heard other voices and the violent sounds of a door thrust open. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see that it was Mr. Darcy who held me while Morgan stood in the doorway. Sneyd followed behind, lifting a candle up high.
“Elizabeth, wake up!”
“What’s going on in here?” Morgan demanded. “What’s all the screeching about?”
Mr. Darcy released me and stood up to face the highwaymen. “Obviously, she suffered a nightmare — hardly unusual under the circumstances.”
“Is that true?” Morgan took the candle and held it close to my face. “Are you unharmed?”
“Yes,” I murmured, “I am well.”
“Look at this, Nate.” Sneyd motioned towards the table. The chair in which Mr. Darcy had slept lay on its side. “He what kicked over this chair be in a mighty hurry.”
Morgan turned his sight from the chair to Mr. Darcy to me, once again holding the candle aloft for closer inspection. “Why do you not sleep with your pretty wife, sir, if she is your wife?”
Mr. Darcy made no reply
“Hmm? What’s wrong? Is your brain too foggy to make up another lie?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Mr. Darcy lifted his chin.
“The game’s finished, Darcy. We heard you kick over the chair when the girl started screaming. She slept alone, didn’t she? I don’t think you two are married at all. I think you’re playing us for fools.”
My heart turned over. What had I done?
“You, sir, are mistaken.” Mr. Darcy drew himself up even straighter than usual. He was a tall man. With an erect and imposing stature, he appeared to be one few would dare question.
“There is a simple explanation. Of course, she is my wife. She has been for several years, and she now carries my child. Because of her condition, which if you doubt, you may fetch a doctor to confirm, and because of the torturous journey you forced upon her, I allowed her the scant comfort of this poor excuse of a quilt. By any gentlewoman’s standards, it can hardly be deemed large enough for one, much less two people. I assure you it was only for her ease that I elected to spend the night in a chair, and the fact, of course, that I wished to keep watch.”
“Keep watch!” Sneyd sneered. “We’re the ones what keeps watch!”
“Shut your mouth!” Morgan demanded.
Once again, he stared hard at me and then moved the candle toward Mr. Darcy’s face, as though its dim light might reveal whether he spoke the truth. He paced up and down the length of the room several times. I held my breath, wondering what he would do next.
He stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes.
“Lie down with her.”
“What?”
“I said, lie beside your wife!”
Mr. Darcy looked at me and opened his mouth to protest. “We . . . we are hardly in the habit of displaying such intimacy in the company of others.”
Morgan drew his pistol, and stepping even closer, he placed it beneath Mr. Darcy’s chin. “This is the last time I’ll say it. Sleep with the girl!”
Immediately, Mr. Darcy dropped to the floor and sat beside me.
“Now, keep your wife quiet. One more peep out of her and she sleeps with me. Do you understand, Mister Darcy?”
He nodded. Without another word, as though we had practiced it, we both reclined at the same time, lying side by side under the blanket. Sneyd began to snicker until Morgan silenced him with a curt nod of his head. They departed the room without uttering another word. The only sound to be heard was the slam of the door and click of the lock.
We lay there motionless. In truth, I held my breath. I strained to hear departing footsteps, but it was impossible through the thick slab of a door. After a silence of some moments, I began to breathe easier.
“Shall you not get up now, Mr. Darcy?” I whispered.
“No.”
No! What did he mean by that? In all my life I had never lain beside a man, and I found it most unsettling. Certainly, I was grateful that it was Mr. Darcy beside me and not Morgan, but I could not sleep beside a man, even if he was a gentleman!
“Why ever not, sir?”
“For two reasons — our captors may return at any moment to see that we obeyed their commands, and because I do not intend to have your outcries summon them again.”
“I did not cry out on purpose. One can hardly be blamed for one’s dreams.”
“I do not blame you, Miss Bennet. I simply state the facts. You are in a position to suffer a recurrence, and I shall not hazard Morgan making good on his threat. If I remain here beside you, I can awaken you before you resort to the earth-shattering noise you uttered before.”
“Mr. Darcy, I protest. I shall not spend the night under the same quilt with you.” I sat up, intending to rise. Immediately, I felt his hands upon my shoulders.
“Lie down!” With one movement, he pulled me down beside him. This time he kept one arm under my neck so that I lay on his shoulder with his other arm across my waist.
“Mr. Darcy!” I cried with force and volume.
“S-h-h! Have no fear that I am attempting to take advantage of you or the situation in which we find ourselves. I do this for your safekeeping, certainly not for any disreputable reason you may imagine. Believe me, I wish to be as free of this position as you do.”
Now, the man not only held me against my will but also insulted me!
“Let me go,” I said evenly.
“Will you remain beside me if I do?”
“Yes,” I spat out, “but only because of necessity.”
“What other reason could there be?”
He removed his arm from behind my neck. I attempted to move over slightly, but when I did, he followed me. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your cooperation.”
“Could we please refrain from conversing any further?”
“As you wish. Good night.”
I turned on my side away from him, scooting as far away as I could, which was not far, given the scant dimensions of that quilt. Still extremely conscious of his presence, I could smell the scent of his skin, hear the gentle hum of his breathing, and feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I knew with certainty that I would never go back to sleep.
How had I ever come to be in such a dilemma? And if we did survive, as Mr. Darcy put it, what would happen to my reputation? When it became known that I had shared not only a room with this man, but slept beside him, how could I ever again hold up my head? Would anyone believe it was innocently done? I could imagine the gossip, how tarnished my good name would be, and what it would do to my family. How could Jane or any of my sisters ever hope to obtain marriage to honourable men after this? My entire family would partake of my shame.
Repeatedly, I wrestled with my worries, and when they began to diminish, instead of succumbing to sleep, my poor brain returned to the danger in which Mr. Darcy and I found ourselves. It did little good to worry about my name when my life was in jeopardy.
By morning light, I had slept less than two hours. I had remained in the same position the entire night, fearful that I might turn over and unknowingly touch Mr. Darcy. Thus, I was stiff and sore when I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I intended to move quietly in order not to awaken him, but when I turned, I was shocked to see him sitting at the table, watching me.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
For some reason, my hand immediately flew to my hair. My curls were all in disarray, and I was acutely conscious of how wrinkled my gown appeared. I pulled my pelisse closer, feeling exposed.
“Good morning,” I mumbled, as I walked across the room to the small storeroom that served as a poor excuse for a water closet. I doubt that I had ever been as embarrassed in my life at having to share such a necessity.
Behind the closed door, I took my time, using the advantage to smooth my skirt by hand as much as possible. Oh, how I longed for the simple pleasure of soap and water with which to wash! Water alone would have been welcomed, but we had drunk all that was given to us the night before.
I raked my fingers through my hair, discovered the hairpins that were still intact, and attempted to pin up as much as possible. I did not need a mirror’s reflection to tell me that my entire appearance remained unkempt. Well, naturally Mr. Darcy would not look perfect, either, I mused.
Sure enough, when I returned, I observed that his breeches appeared creased with wrinkles, and his redingote was less than impeccable. A razor and comb would have benefited him as well, but I had to admit, he probably looked much better than I did.
In truth, the dark shadow on his face and tangle of curls falling across his forehead did little to disparage his good looks. If only he had a pleasing manner, he would be a most attractive man. But then I remembered how horridly he had treated Mr. Wickham, and I knew that no matter how fine his visage, I could never be attracted to Mr. Darcy.
As I advanced into the room, he rose and walked to the window without acknowledging my return, for which I was grateful. If he were only half as bothered by this forced intimacy as I was, he would wish to afford me some semblance of privacy.
I sat down at the table and peered into the empty water pitcher, hoping it had somehow been magically refilled. We remained in silence for no little time, and I wondered what scene outside provoked his interest. As he did not remark upon it, apparently, there was nothing there. I assumed he was simply avoiding my presence. At last he turned and walked back to the table.
“Were you able to sleep?”
I shook my head. “Very little.”
“So I suspected.”
“I apologize if I kept you awake.”
“You did not. My own thoughts were impetus enough.”
I glanced at him then, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. “Do you wish to share them?” I doubted that he had entertained the same fears of the future that I did.
“I thought of ways we might escape our captors, and if we do, in what direction we should strike out.”
“Escape? Do you still entertain the thought? How?”
“We must be on our guard, Miss Bennet, and take advantage of whatever opportunity arises.”
“What do you mean?”
Before he could answer, we heard the key turn in the lock. Sneyd and the woman called Gert entered. She carried a tray containing bowls of gruel, two cups of strongly brewed tea, glasses, and another small pitcher of water. Sneyd remained at the door, while Gert slammed the tray down on the table, sloshing some of the precious tea out of the cups.
She then proceeded to the storeroom and returned with the embarrassing chambe
r pot. I turned away, unable to face Mr. Darcy, while Sneyd began to snicker. Mr. Darcy, however, acted as though it were the most natural action in the world. Of course, he was accustomed to servants carrying and fetching for him. For that matter, I lived in a house containing servants, although I assumed not anywhere near the vast number he employed. Still, I could not help but feel uneasy. This should be a deed carried out in the privacy of one’s bedchamber, not in front of a snickering highwayman or in the presence of the most arrogant man whom I had ever encountered.
I suddenly remembered that I was to act as though I was married to that arrogant man, and so I raised my head and gave Sneyd the coldest of stares. “I require water and towels with which to wash. Will you see to it?”
“Oh, you require, do you, Missus?” He ran his eyes up and down my body, lingering about my bosom. “Well, we’ll see ’bout that.”
“See that you do it immediately!” Mr. Darcy barked.
“I’ll do it when and if Morgan says so, and not because the likes of you orders me to!” Sneyd drew his gun and waved it in our direction.
I saw Mr. Darcy straighten his spine and the angry expression about his eyes. Before there could be any further altercation, I spoke in a much more placating voice. “Tell Mr. Morgan that I would be grateful.”
With an answering scowl, he departed the room, and Mr. Darcy and I sat down to break our fast. Without sugar or milk, the tea was only tolerable, but we both were thirsty and I, at least, relished it. The gruel was another matter. Our hunger prevailed, however, and we both ate the distasteful dish. I had just finished the last spoonful when the door opened again. Gert returned with the emptied utensil for the water closet. She then literally gathered the dishes out from under our noses, placing them on the tray with a harsh clatter. It was obvious that she resented having to serve us. I attempted to soften her attitude by thanking her, but a sullen glare was all I received for my effort.
My request for bathing materials was never acknowledged, and eventually, the day grew long with such enforced imprisonment. In time, Mr. Darcy and I tired of straining to hear footsteps or voices. He still crossed the room to the window at the faintest sound from without, but after no attention from our captors other than a noon meal of the previous evening’s leftover, greasy broth, we soon grew less anxious and settled into the monotony of existing in a room without diversion. Devoid of books, newspapers, callers, even the interruption of servants, and lacking the freedom to come and go as we pleased, we were forced to rely upon each other for company.