by Hahn, Jan
I looked him up and down and wondered if he had any idea of his appearance. The once perfectly dressed gentleman who had begun this journey some days previous now appeared bedraggled, unkempt, and highly suspect. His beard and hair were untidy, the bottom of his long coat possessed a good six inches of soil and stain from his misstep into the river, and his once polished boots were scuffed and laden with layers of dirt and mud. I entertained serious misgivings that anyone would wish to give him a ride.
“Do you not think it more prudent that we ask together, sir?”
“I do not,” he said hastily. “I do not need your assistance. It will be a simple task. Now keep behind the trees, and I shall walk nearest the open.”
I did as he said, but beneath my breath, I muttered, “Stubborn man!”
We walked for some time. The sun had climbed high in the heavens before we heard the distant clatter of a horse and cart. Mr. Darcy darted back into the edge of the forest, and we remained concealed until the transport could be viewed clearly. Seeing that it contained only an old man driving what appeared to be an empty cart, Mr. Darcy strode forth from the woods, raising his hand to hail the driver.
The poor, frightened man took one look and immediately grabbed a whip and urged the horse into a faster clip! Although Mr. Darcy ran after the driver, entreating him to stop, the man’s fear of the wild-looking stranger rushing from the wood prevailed. He and his horse and cart soon disappeared from sight.
“Stupid fellow! Why would he not stop?” Mr. Darcy was extremely vexed.
We continued plodding on through the perimeter of the woods. The day had turned muggy, unseasonably warm, and yet full of clouds threatening rain.
Eventually I removed my coat, growing uncomfortable from the steady pace at which we hiked. Mr. Darcy, likewise, stopped to take off his, and in so doing, caught it in a vicious snarl of thorns and briers neither of us had noticed. He laboured to dislodge it, accompanied by various exclamations, but the greater his attempt, the more entangled it became. I had just offered assistance when we heard the distinct sound of another rider or riders approaching.
Mr. Darcy warned me to remain hidden, and we both strained to see, hoping that the forthcoming traveller did not belong to the gang of highwaymen who had abducted us.
“It is but a single young man driving a cart,” I said softly.
“Blast! I must get this coat loose before he passes by.”
“Allow me to approach him, sir. Perchance I shall have greater success than you did, and he will offer a ride.”
“You? Absolutely not!”
I, however, had already walked hurriedly through the trees toward the road.
“Elizabeth!”
“Free your coat, sir. I shall secure our passage.”
I proceeded closer to the path, stepped out into the open, smiled and waved at the driver. Immediately he pulled on the reins and halted the horse. I could see a large pen in the cart, and noises indicated it contained some type of animal.
“Blazes, Miss, you gave me a fright,” he called.
“Good day, sir,” I answered, walking nearer. “You have come just in time.”
I went on to tell him that my horse had suffered a mishap some ways back, and that I was in need of a ride. When he looked askance at my appearance, I explained that the accident had occurred the day before, and that I had wandered through the woods all night searching for the road.
“Could you tell me to where it leads?”
“To Hazleden, Miss.”
“And how far might that be?”
“Another twelve mile or so.”
“And might you offer me a ride? I would be most grateful.”
“I go only as far as the cut-off to Mr. Martin’s place, but I’ll be pleased to take you that far.”
I thanked him with another big smile and then added, “Just let me fetch my brother from the woods.”
“Your brother, Miss?”
“Yes, he’s had a slight mishap with his coat. It will take but a moment.” I ran a few steps back and called, “William, this kind fellow has offered us a ride. Can you not hurry?”
The young driver looked somewhat apprehensive when Mr. Darcy emerged from the trees. “What’s wrong with him? He don’t look a fellow what had no accident. He look like he fell in with hard times.”
“Oh, it is of little consequence,” I said quickly, for I could see that Mr. Darcy had abandoned his greatcoat to the briar patch. Either because of losing that fight or because I had been successful in securing a ride when he had not, he appeared quite angry. Flushed and scowling, he barely nodded at the driver as I made the introductions.
“My name is — Mary, uh, Smith, and this is my brother, William Smith.”
“Jack Burnaby,” the young man said, doffing his hat and exposing a shock of red hair. He appeared to be a callow youth, about the age of my sister, Kitty. He hopped off the cart on the opposite side and made his way around back, where he loosened the slats across the rear and shoved the heavy pen aside.
“We are brother and sister now?” Mr. Darcy hissed. “What next? Shall you be my daughter?”
“Shush,” I cautioned, “he will hear you.” I then walked to the back of the cart, whereupon I was shocked to see a huge black and white sow inside a rude sort of pen. “Is it . . . quite safe to ride back here with your pig?”
“Yes, Miss. Sadie won’t hurt your brother none. And you can ride up front with me.”
“What?” Mr. Darcy exclaimed.
“Come along, William,” I said quickly. “We must not delay this good man. He is offering kindness to strangers.”
I refused to meet Mr. Darcy’s eyes, keeping my head down as I hurried past him to the front of the cart, but I could feel the fierceness of his glare. I stopped short, however, upon finding the young man directly in front of me.
“Need a hand up, Miss?” A huge grin covered his face.
Mr. Darcy immediately stepped between us. “Never mind. I will assist my . . . sister.”
Before I knew it, he placed his hands around my waist and lifted me up to the driver’s seat. I murmured my thanks and closed my eyes at sight of the grimace on his countenance. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him walk to the back of the cart and climb aboard, knowing with certainty that he possessed little appreciation for the seating arrangements.
All of a sudden, the pig began to squeal like a wild woman! She snorted and snuffed and tried her best to push her snout between the bars of the cage.
“Hush up there, Sadie,” Jack yelled, then smiled and winked at me. “Don’t mind her, Miss. I’m taking her over to Mister Martin’s prize boar. ’Tis breeding time.”
“Ah.”
The young man and I conversed for much of the short journey. He was friendly and seemed harmless, and I attempted to discern as much as possible of what he might know about our whereabouts.
He told me that he lived with his parents on a farm about three miles back, that if he did his work well, his father had promised him a trip to Hazleden on market day. When I asked if he ever travelled to Jonah’s Village, he frowned, saying that his parents would not allow him to set foot in it because everyone knew that town had gone bad. Far too much riffraff lived there, and his father thought it a dangerous place for his wife and children.
He went on to say the locals claimed Nate Morgan and his men stayed around there from time to time. He had never actually seen Morgan, but he knew all about him since he was an infamous highwayman.
“Did you come through that way, Miss, when you met with misfortune?”
“No — we were on our way to Town when it happened.”
“To London, Miss? Then you were travellin’ the main road on the other side of the river?”
“Yes,” I said, hesitating somewhat. I knew that I had never been on that road, but I was afraid to tell him the truth, that we had been kidnapped far from this part of the country.
When he looked puzzled, I said that we had wandered around during
the night and found ourselves completely lost by morning. Quickly, I reiterated how grateful I was that he had come along, hoping that he would not ask me how we had crossed the river. He did, however. I was forced to prevaricate again, weaving a tale about how my horse stepped in a hole and broke its leg. I then doubled up with my brother until his horse fell as we crossed the river.
“You crossed the river?” Jack’s eyes bulged out in surprise. “It’s mighty treacherous in spots.”
I agreed. “That’s when we lost our other horse, along with my brother’s money pouch.”
“All your money’s gone?”
“Utterly — at the bottom of the deep — lost forever.”
I gave a great sigh and attempted the saddest expression I could conjure. Silently, I amused myself with the idea that if I did manage to survive this adventure and my reputation did not, I could always go on the stage, for I had acted more parts than I cared to during the last four days. I stole a sideways glance at the youth and felt satisfied that he believed my cock-and-bull tale.
“That is enough of my sad story. You say that you are on your way to Mr. Martin’s? Is it far off this path?”
“About three mile west once I leave the road. I’d take you and your brother with me, Miss, but Mr. Martin’s not much for callers. He don’t even allow me in his house. I’ll sleep in the barn near Sadie tonight.”
“Does reason exist for his unfriendly demeanour?”
“Folk say he turned sour when his only boy run off and joined Nate Morgan’s bunch.”
I felt a chill run down my backbone. “And does he keep in touch with this son? Is it possible that he sometimes shelters the highwaymen?”
“Don’t know, Miss, but I don’t much think so, else me father wouldn’t send me over there alone. He says that boy turnin’ wild broke the old man’s spirit, and that’s why he keeps to himself.”
“You say he is an excellent breeder of pigs, though?”
“That he is, Miss. Ain’t a sow around here what can keep away from his boar! You ought to see that animal — he’s the grandest in the county!”
Just then, Sadie erupted in another long round of excited squeals and snorts.
“She certainly seems delighted.”
“She is, Miss. Wound up like a top, she is! I hope that old boar’s had a good, long rest a’fore we get there.”
I turned slightly to see that the sow finally had worked her way through the bars of the cage enough to nudge Mr. Darcy’s back with the tip of her snout. I could imagine the anger and frustration he must be suffering. Goodness! I had managed to place him in a situation even more difficult to bear than my sister Mary’s performance at the Netherfield ball.
Eventually, we reached the turn to Mr. Martin’s pig farm. Jack offered his regret at not taking us all the way to the next village. I thanked him, however, and assured him that his aid had been of great assistance to us. Mr. Darcy said little, merely nodding curtly before we resumed our journey toward Hazleden on foot.
We walked in silence, staring straight ahead until the horse and cart could no longer be heard. Only then did I chance a quick peek at Mr. Darcy’s countenance. I expected darkness and did not meet with disappointment.
His brows pulled together in a deep frown, his lips tightly pressed together. He plodded forward, each step angrily resolute. The muscle in his jaw even seemed to twitch in time with his tread. I, who cannot abide indefinite silences, finally broke the wordless tension.
“If you are angry with me, would it not hasten the resolution of our conflict if I were informed of your reasoning, for I cannot determine the cause if you will not speak.”
He took a deep breath. “Do allow me the courtesy of time sufficient to recover from this recent experience before imposing upon me for conversation.”
“Forgive me, sir, I did not mean to impose.” We continued on a short way, but I could not let it rest. “I fail to see why the benevolence of a stranger should result in your resentful manner, unless this is further manifestation of your general nature which you warned me about earlier in our acquaintance and of which I am now more than well aware.”
He stopped abruptly and turned to face me. I had already walked a few steps ahead before I noticed and turned back.
“Madam, if you had been forced to spend the last hour in far too close company with a pig the size of a small cow and endure its wild antics, not to mention its odour, your own amiable disposition might possibly be termed resentful!”
I struggled not to laugh or even smile, but his fit of pique was so petty and beneath him that I had to press my lips together to control my expression.
“You made a great sacrifice, sir. I am sure the pig will recall that leg of the journey with pleasure.”
No longer could I maintain my composure, and as my shoulders began to shake, mirth bubbled up from within, and despite all my efforts, I burst forth in laughter. Mr. Darcy turned aside, but when I did not cease after a few moments, he faced me anew.
“I rejoice that I provide you with such merriment. Are you quite finished?”
I nodded, and in truth, I endeavoured mightily to quell my laughter, but as ofttimes happens when one attempts to stifle amusement, it only added fuel to the emotion, and so I continued in helpless, embarrassing abandonment. By that time, tears streamed from my eyes, and I doubled over with the pain caused by such wild hilarity.
Mr. Darcy turned to glare at me. If I had thought earlier that fire shone forth from his eyes, it was nothing compared to now, but I simply could not stop.
I shall be eternally thankful that laughter is contagious, for it eventually cracked even Mr. Darcy’s stiff armour and he, too, began to smile and then softly laugh. Encouraged by my continuous inability to smother my response, he soon laughed aloud with me. Thus we stood beside the path, helplessly out of control for some time until slowly, sanity returned. Wiping my eyes with my hands, I marvelled at how handsome he was with his face lit up by laughter.
“Not only do I smell like the river and dirt, but now I reek of pig,” he said, which started both of us again on another riotous uproar.
“Can you not see the look of horror on Miss Bingley’s face if she were to meet up with us now?” I cried.
“At last I might be freed of her attentions, for I can hardly see her drawing near to one who looks and smells as I do.”
“Nor I, sir.”
I took a deep breath, and at length, I was able to gain control of my amusement. Yet, what relief swept over me with that spontaneous release provided by the sharing of hearty, abundant laughter! I felt at ease, as though I had slept ten hours on a fine feather bed. The old proverb flashed across my memory: A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.
And then as quickly as amusement overtook us, self-consciousness returned. We resumed our trek, and I did my utmost to turn my attention to the surroundings, acutely aware that once again Mr. Darcy and I had shared an intimate moment. Laughter and tears were closely tied, and it seemed that either one or the other had torn down the boundaries between us. I determined to restore those barriers as much as possible, beginning with a return to the danger of our surroundings.
“Could you overhear my conversation with young Jack, sir?”
“In between squeals.”
I smiled again, but did not give way to laughter. “So you heard what he said about this Mr. Martin, that the boy could not take us to his house, and why I would not have accepted had he offered.”
“Yes, because of his association with Morgan’s gang. To refuse would have been prudent. Even though the boy thinks the farmer has broken relations with his son, it may be unlikely. He and his cohorts could take refuge there at any time. Yes, Miss Bennet, you did well to glean that much information.”
I was pleased that he approved. “In truth, I was called upon to make up tales with such haste that I wonder at their believability.”
“Well, no one but a besotted youth would have deemed your story true. Your horse falls in a hole? And
then mine falls into the river? My word, Elizabeth, we must have been riding two decrepit old nags.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am well aware that it was an insupportable story, but we have been hard pressed to come up with numerous accounts these past days. I confess that my imagination has quite run its course.”
“What I consider most bizarre and fail to comprehend is why you said we were brother and sister. Of all things — brother and sister! No one would believe that. Why not leave it as we were — husband and wife? We now have some experience enacting those roles.”
“I feared the boy might mention to acquaintances that he had picked up a husband and wife. They, in turn, might know Morgan and pass the information on to him or one of his men. I changed our names for that reason. Mary Smith, I know, is unoriginal, but as I said, my creativity has vanished.”
“I disagree. Your creative impulse is highly charged to paint us as brother and sister.”
“But why, sir? Our appearance is somewhat similar. We are both dark-haired and possess brown eyes. I fail to see the incomprehensibility you claim.”
Again he stopped walking and turned to me, his expression troubled. “It is just impossible! No one but that besotted youth would ever think we are in the same family. Married, yes, but never brother and sister.”
Aha, now I saw his reasoning! I turned on my heel and began to pick up the pace, outdistancing him in an instant. “I understand your meaning, sir. You need not insult me further.”
He hastened to catch up with me, which did not take long, as his long stride could make two of mine at any given moment. “Insult you? In what manner?”
“Evidently, you consider it degrading for anyone to think we are part of the same family! Do not worry, sir. No one would ever call you a Bennet!”
“You mistake my meaning! I meant no disparagement toward your family. If I had, do you think I would have earlier represented us as married?”
“One sometimes marries beneath oneself. That is more excusable than being born into such a family. I do not wish to discuss it further.”