by Hahn, Jan
And then we heard footsteps outside the door! That distinct click of the key roared in my ear as it turned in the lock. I held my breath, waiting to see who would spring through the doorway! The knob on the door did not turn.
After standing motionless and waiting for some time, Mr. Darcy walked softly across the room, and I followed close behind. He placed his ear against the thick door, but we heard no footstep, voice, or movement.
“Remain behind me,” he whispered.
I nodded and watched his hand reach out to the doorknob. I thought my heart would surely leap from my chest when he slowly opened the door! The hallway appeared empty and dark, but in the distance at the end of the hall, a faint light shone, and a fire crackled and spit.
Mr. Darcy looked in both directions, and seeing the side door, he pushed against it with all his might. Alas, it was locked and would not give. There was no other way out of the cottage but through the room where Morgan and I had dined together.
Tightly clasping my hand behind him, he crept toward the light. We had just reached the doorway, when a voice called out. “Ain’t nobody here but me.”
Mr. Darcy and I slowly advanced around the corner. Gert sat on a stool by the fire, stirring the logs.
“They’re gone. You can leave.”
Mr. Darcy walked to the window and peered out, then moved back to the hall and explored it in the opposite direction.
“Where have they gone?” I asked, incredulous.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. But if you’re leavin’, now’s the time.”
Mr. Darcy returned to the room. “How long do we have before they return?”
“Like I said, don’t know, don’t care.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you letting us go? Will they not harm you when they come back?”
“Nate don’t touch me, and he keeps the others’ hands off me. Besides, he’s the one who give me the key.”
What did that mean? Was Morgan allowing us to leave, or could this be a trap? The questions were surely reflected in my expression.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes met mine, but there seemed to be little question in his. Quickly, he returned to the door and looked out into the night. “In what direction is the closest town, and how far away is it?”
“Jonah’s Village lie twelve mile east of here.”
“Is that the only one?”
“You asked what’s the closest. Hazleden’s nigh on to eighteen mile southeast, but you have to follow the creek and wind ’round through the wood a’fore you find the road. The clear path leads to Jonah.”
“Come on,” Mr. Darcy motioned toward the door with his head, “and button your coat. It has rained earlier, and ’twill be bitter weather until the sun rises.”
After handing him his greatcoat, I turned to Gert, hesitating for a moment. “Thank you.”
Spitting a stream of tobacco into the fire, she picked up a small sack and handed it to me. “Some bread and taties.”
I took the bag gratefully and ran out the door behind Mr. Darcy. It was quite dark, the new moon reflecting barely a sliver of light before it ducked behind the clouds. He reached for my hand, and I had not the slightest hesitation in allowing him to hold it.
“Which way shall we go?” I whispered.
“To Hazleden.”
“Why not take the path to Jonah’s Village? It is closer.”
“Too easy to find us that way. Come along and walk softly. I do not trust that woman. We may be headed straight into a snare.”
“I trust her,” I whispered.
“Why?”
“A feeling.”
“Then let us hope your perception is correct, Miss Bennet.”
We ran across the open space between the cabin and the river and soon disappeared into the tall brush lining the bank. The noise of water rushing over the dam ahead grew louder as we neared it. Earlier, I had told Mr. Darcy about hearing a waterfall, and now it appeared to be even closer than I thought.
The reeds and grasses thickened the farther we walked, and I wondered how he could see ahead. In less than a half-hour, we reached the dam.
“Stay,” he whispered. “I shall return.”
A sense of panic swept over me when he released my hand, and I peered after him, desperate to keep him within sight as he vanished into the darkness. Rustling in the trees caused me to turn quickly, but nothing appeared. Surely, there must be wild animals in these woods — or wild men.
My teeth began to chatter, and I clasped hold of my arms, willing myself to remain still. Yet, the combined noise of my teeth and rapid heartbeat seemed monstrously loud to my ear, surely alerting anyone within miles that I was there alone. I turned round again and again, thinking I heard something or someone.
And then I truly did hear a crackling step and another. I placed my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, when a figure suddenly appeared before me!
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, and I almost bit my lip in two before I recognized that Mr. Darcy had returned. With a great sigh of relief, I let out the breath I had been holding.
“I climbed down to the dam, hoping there was a bridge built across it. It is a makeshift structure at best, now covered not only with running water, but broken down in the middle, impossible to cross. We shall be forced to keep to this side of the river.”
“How can we continue without light? We could fall in the water.”
“True, but we must chance it. We are not yet removed far enough from the cabin to bide our time. We must advance. Follow closely, and do not let go of my hand.”
He need not worry. I had no intention of letting him out of my sight again.
We travelled on through the night, how far I had not the slightest idea. More than once, we slipped into a bog of mud, and Mr. Darcy even stepped off the bank momentarily. Fortunately, the water was shallow at that point, and he quickly pushed me away and managed to free himself before we both fell in. My feet were growing heavier with each step, my shoes thoroughly clogged with thick layers of mud.
At last, Mr. Darcy halted and turned to look over his shoulder. My spirits rose when I saw the faint beginnings of morning light in the east.
He turned back to face me. “Can you go any farther?”
I nodded.
“Come on, then. The concealment provided by darkness will soon be lifted.”
We ploughed on through the reeds. The sharp stalks scraped my hands and cheeks. Oh, how I wished for the protection of a bonnet!
And I was so thirsty, my throat hurt. All that water lay just a few feet away, and yet we could not refresh ourselves, for it remained far too dark to draw any closer. But soon — soon, I knew we could drink our fill. That thought made my feet move, that and Mr. Darcy’s warm hand covering mine.
Eventually, a greater light appeared through the trees, illuminating the full expanse of the river. It was much wider than the creek by the cabin, perhaps at least three times its size in width, and I wondered at its depth.
Mr. Darcy kept an ever more constant eye on our surroundings. He turned his head from side to side and often looked over his shoulder. At last, he stopped abruptly, so much so that I walked straight into him.
“Forgive me.”
I attempted to step back, and in so doing, lost my footing. He immediately reached out and caught me, saving me from falling into the mud. I was grateful, for the hem of my petticoat was covered in muck. I hoped to prevent my dress from a similar fate.
“No,” he said, frowning, “it is I who should be forgiven. I have pushed you too far. I can see that you are spent.”
He could not have spoken truer words, and I felt certain that my appearance portrayed it. I did not even wish to think how bedraggled I must look, my hair streaming down my back, my gown three inches thick in dirt. But what did it matter? We were free from our captors and out in God’s good earth.
“I am well, sir. All I desire is water to drink.”
“Of course. I shall help you down the bank, but take care, for it is slippery.”
Cautiously, we climbed down to the water’s edge. Both of us fell to our knees, cupped the water into our hands, and lapped it up like dogs. I had never tasted wine more refreshing than that cold, clear river water.
When my thirst was slaked at last, I washed my face, wincing as the water stung the cuts in my cheeks and forehead. My expression of pain did not go unnoticed, for the next thing I knew, Mr. Darcy turned my face to meet his. Gently, he ran his thumb across the scratches.
“Those blasted reeds! I never should have pulled you through them.”
“No,” I said softly, taking his hand in mine. “You did what you had to do. Do not fear. I heal quickly.”
I heard his quick intake of breath — or was it mine — as I saw the tenderness in his eyes. He wore the same expression that had graced his face earlier in the night when he had held me within his arms. Slowly, we both stood up, and this time he was the one to break our gaze, turning his face away.
“We can no longer travel in the open. We must make our way into the woods.” He led me back up the embankment.
An hour later, it was full daylight, and we were enmeshed within the deep wood. I hoped that Mr. Darcy had some idea of our whereabouts, for I was hopelessly lost. I could no longer hear even faint sounds of the river, and I worried that we had wandered far too great a distance from its boundary. The soles of my feet burned, and I suspected that blisters had formed beneath the first and second toes of my left foot.
“Mr. Darcy, I can go no farther.” I reached out to brace myself against the trunk of a beech tree.
He turned and frowned. “Of course. Over here is a clear spot. Come and seat yourself against this sturdy oak.”
He took my hand and led me a few feet more, where I scraped my shoes against the tree’s bark, shedding most of the mud before I gladly sank to the ground. Covered in fallen leaves and bits of dried grasses, the hard ground felt as comforting to me as a corn-husked mattress.
“Shall you eat a bite of something?” he asked, kneeling beside me and taking Gert’s small bag from my hand.
He broke off part of the bread, and I took it from him, but I refused the cold potatoes. While we ate, we discussed the possibilities of what might have transpired at the cabin. Mr. Darcy suggested that the highwaymen could have fought off another band of ruffians who had descended upon them, or in an even more likely scene, they may have turned on each other.
I recalled that this very morning was the deadline Morgan had dictated in the ransom note. Could they have gone to meet the Earl of Matlock and retrieve the gold? If so, why would he not have left someone to guard us? Why would Gert have released us?
“Many questions,” Mr. Darcy said, “and few answers. What I should most like to know is who fired the weapons and the present whereabouts of those criminals?”
“I do wish you could have alerted your uncle to our location, but of course you could not with Morgan reading your message.”
“Whether he read it or not, that information would have been impossible to relate, because I simply do not know where we are.”
I sighed in agreement, and after a bit, I methodically began to massage the sides of my sore feet through my shoes.
“Why not remove them for a brief time?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I fear my feet are far too swollen. I might never be able to pull the shoes on again. I must persevere. I know it is imperative that we push on with great haste.”
“Yes, haste is important, but in doing so, you must not be harmed. Your face and hands are scratched, and now your feet are injured. Of what could I have been thinking?”
I was surprised to hear his expression of remorse. “Do not distress yourself, sir. Our escape has been uppermost in your mind throughout this ordeal, and I am grateful.”
My voice had unexpectedly softened with that last statement, and I felt a slight catch in my throat. His eyes met mine, diffused with that familiar tender light once again.
I forced myself to look away and break the spell.
We were now delivered from our imprisonment, and God willing, we would safely rejoin civilized society in the near future, a society that would prohibit any furtherance of the feelings recently awakened in my heart. Once we returned, all this would be as nothing more than a dream. He would once again be proud, wealthy Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and I would be Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of a country gentleman, far below the echelon of society in which Mr. Darcy dwelt.
It was past time to put an end to this attraction taking root within my heart and which I dared suspect he might possibly return in kind. It was time to place some distance between us, to return to my saucy speech and manner. It had served me well in the past and would again, I felt certain.
And so, with a gleam in my eye, I spoke. “After all, I know what a tiresome creature I can be, and that I have tried your patience more than once. I did think I was up to this trek, though, since I bear the noted reputation of being an excellent walker.”
I lifted my chin, giving him a somewhat cheeky smile. He coloured immediately, and I knew that he remembered hearing me so described by Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in the dining hall at Netherfield. Until then, however, he did not know that, having stood without in the hallway, I had chanced to overhear the remark.
“Miss Bennet, I . . .” he faltered, casting his eyes about the glen as though searching for an appropriate response.
I could not refrain from sympathizing somewhat with his predicament.
“It is of little consequence, sir. I have long been acquainted with Miss Bingley’s disapprobation of me. I fear that I measure up neither to her standards of an accomplished woman nor those of her sister. In truth, I would guess that I have fretted away at least three-quarters of a moment because of the distinct certainty that I never shall.”
He smiled slightly, relief evident in his eyes that I found the remembrance somewhat humorous.
“I hope that you do not count me a conspirator in their accounts. Although their brother and I are good friends, I do not share a similarity of opinions with Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst.”
“Is that so? I must have been mistaken in my first impressions then, for you appeared nigh to identical in manners at the Meryton assembly, again at the party at Lucas Lodge, and at the Netherfield ball. In your censure of Hertfordshire society, I would have judged you and Mr. Bingley’s sisters in perfect agreement. Have no fear, however, that I hold you responsible for their remarks. No, no, I should never accuse you of that — for you bear the onerous task of answering for your own.”
“Oh?” He settled himself against the nearby beech, leaning back against its trunk. “Any in particular?”
I pursed my lips as though combing my memory, searching for the exact statement with which I might confront him. “As I recall, there exists an ample reckoning upon which I might rely.”
“Such as?”
“Well, let me think on the matter.” I pretended to continue my search, tapping my fingers against my chin. “Hmm, this will do, as I consider it a fundamental example.”
I lowered my voice and put on my best rendition of his haughty tone. “Mr. Bingley, I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. That particular declaration certainly signifies.
“And then, of course, I often amuse myself with the recollection of your companion statement — she is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy, you need not rely on either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst for assistance in notable opinions or conversation. You are quite the master of your own.”
He now frowned in earnest, any semblance of a smile quite vanished, as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I regret those statements. They were beneath me, as well as uncalled for and untrue.”
Untrue? This would not do. Surely, he did not intend to compliment me. I would not allow him to persist in that line of speech.
“I see that your memory fails you, sir. Let me refresh it. As I recall, you appe
ared to be in ill humour the night of the Meryton assembly ball, disdainful of all you surveyed. In truth and in line with your nature, I believe your first account is accurate after all, and I shall not listen to you disavow it at this late date.”
His response was silence and a long, steady gaze placed squarely upon me, a gaze that flustered me somewhat, one from which I eventually turned away.
“It is in the past now, Mr. Darcy. Please do not suffer yourself to think upon it. In truth, I grow weary of thinking, and if you consider it safe to do so, I would benefit from a short nap.”
“Very well,” he replied. “Do not worry for your safety. I shall remain awake and keep watch. I only regret that you must sleep on the ground.”
“Ah,” I said, using my hands to rake up a mound of leaves and then laying my head upon it, “but I have grown accustomed to the absence of a pillow.”
Within moments of closing my eyes, I felt his hand gently lift my head, as he slipped his folded coat beneath it. “Allow me at least this trivial attempt at atonement for my previous blunders.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me by lightly placing his finger against my lips. “Just this once, Miss Bennet, I pray you will favour me with a scarcity of your sharp tongue.”
Chapter Six
Mr. Darcy allowed me to nap for some time before I felt his hand on my shoulder. I sat up immediately for fear that we were in danger, but when he assured me that all was well, I felt relief that my only threat was a growling stomach. Gert’s meagre rations had not satisfied my hunger.
He bade me rise and follow him, explaining that while I slept, he had explored a short distance from our retreat, and to our great, good fortune, he had discovered a narrow country lane that might possibly lead to Hazleden.
He guided me through a brief tangle of trees, and it did not take long before we reached the edge of the forest. From there, a rough roadway lay before us, its worn ruts indicating it was travelled, although how often, of course, neither of us knew.
“We should continue our journey well back from the road within the cover of these trees, lest our captors also use this path,” Mr. Darcy said. “From here I can observe anyone coming from afar, and if it appears a harmless soul, I shall step forth and secure our passage. To be safe, you should remain out of sight, Miss Bennet, until I have found a ride for us.”