by Hahn, Jan
I pushed my hair back, using my fingers to search for possible hairpins. I was relieved to discover the last two I owned and had just begun to pin a few strands back when I heard a horse whinny and crash through the underbrush!
“Who goes there?” a man’s voice shouted.
I darted behind the tree and cowered low, hoping he could not see me. I heard him alight from the horse. I held my breath as his steps drew nearer, thinking surely my heart would jump from my chest.
Dear God, I prayed, please do not let it be Sneyd!
I heard the click of a cocked gun and screwed my eyes shut. If I were to be shot, I did not want to see it coming.
“Well, now!” the man said in wonder. I opened my eyes to see a gun pointed straight at me, but to my amazement, I found that it was not Sneyd who held it, but a handsome soldier, instead. He smiled and lowered the weapon.
“And who might you be?” When I did not answer, he asked, “Do you live around here? Have you seen a man and a woman travelling the roads?”
I shook my head, the only response I could manage.
“His name is Darcy, and she is Miss Bennet. Are you certain you have not seen them?”
My eyes now widened in wonder. “I — I am Elizabeth Bennet, sir.”
“Capital! I cannot believe my good fortune! My men and I have been searching for you and for my cousin, Darcy. Is he with you?”
“Your cousin?”
“I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”
I let out my breath with a great sigh. “Oh Colonel, I — I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are here!”
After I told him that Darcy and the highwayman were at the cave, he fired three shots in the air as a signal to his men. He then offered me his arm, and I led him up the path to the shelter.
On the way, I attempted to relate the major events that had transpired since Mr. Darcy and I had been released from the cabin and found the cave. He had questions as to Morgan’s condition, which I answered to the best of my ability.
“Mr. Darcy seared the wound last night, and it is because of his good care that the highwayman awakened this morning.”
“Well, I shall recommend my cousin’s nursing skills to my physician,” he said, laughing. “Perhaps he can find employment there if he should ever lose his fortune.”
I liked the colonel. He was pleasant and agreeable, easy to converse with, and by the time we reached the cave, I felt comfortable in his company.
Mr. Darcy, however, met us with Morgan’s pistol drawn and ready!
He, too, was much relieved upon recognition of his relative, and soon eight or nine more uniformed men had ascended to the cave. All of the soldiers were on foot, other than the colonel, having left their horses at the road in order to comb the woods more thoroughly.
They made short work of preparing a litter on which to carry the injured man, cutting down small saplings and using ropes from someone’s pack to attach a blanket. Four of them held the litter while two more picked up Morgan and deposited him thereon. They did not take pains to lift him gently, but instead almost tossed him onto the makeshift device.
He cried out in pain, and I immediately stepped forward to assist him, but Mr. Darcy caught my arm, restraining me.
“Let him be,” he said quietly. “’Twill not do to make a fuss over an outlaw.”
“But he is seriously injured!”
“They are aware of the fact. You must not make a scene.”
He held my arm none too lightly, and I was forced to acquiesce to his command. My better sense told me he was right, that I must remember to caution my responses, for the time of censure had arrived. My heart, however, yearned to give the poor man some measure of comfort.
Colonel Fitzwilliam approached us then and offered me his horse for the journey into Hazleden. “You look fairly haggard yourself, Darce. Perhaps you should ride as well, if Miss Bennet does not object.”
I shrugged slightly, but Mr. Darcy declined, stating that he could easily walk the distance. However, when he walked somewhat unsteadily as we left the cave and had to reach out and grab a branch to gain his balance, the colonel insisted. “Here man, when is the last time either of you has eaten?”
I told him of the blackberries I had discovered last evening, but he brushed aside such simple fare, declaring that Mr. Darcy and I were probably both faint from hunger.
“Come on, Darce, swallow your pride and take the horse. I shall not have my men in need of constructing another litter. It is a good seven miles to the village.”
With reluctance, Mr. Darcy mounted the great, black mare. He then reached down to lift me up as Colonel Fitzwilliam assisted me.
I caught my breath when Mr. Darcy’s hands encircled my waist, and my pulse quickened as he settled me on the horse directly in front of him. It seemed that once more we were forced to endure each other’s close company. I held myself rigid, leaning forward, striving not to nestle against his chest, but it was impossible. The horse took a single step, and I bounced backward. His arms closed around me as he held the reins, and I did my best not to tremble in his embrace.
The colonel walked beside us, and he and Mr. Darcy conversed for much of the first hour. They had caught Sneyd and the rest of the highwaymen the day before when they arrived to retrieve the ransom. Evidently, they were unskilled in the finer points of such treachery, and their innate ignorance contributed to their fairly easy apprehension.
Colonel Fitzwilliam stated that from what he had learned, they were a second-rate bunch of ruffians, lacking experience in the crime of kidnapping. They preferred local petty thievery and only recently had progressed into highway robbery.
“Highwaymen are, for the most part, a scourge of the past,” the colonel said. “Unfortunately, this bunch strayed from their usual haunts and happened upon your carriage. A singular matter of bad luck, one might say.”
“Indeed,” was Mr. Darcy’s only reply.
“I found it surprising that they should hold you for ransom. In truth, I doubted those chaps had the intelligence to think of such a scheme.”
“They did not,” Mr. Darcy said. “I fear that it was my idea.”
“Yours? But why?”
“Because of me, sir,” I said, joining the conversation for the first time. “They threatened to abscond with me, and Mr. Darcy spoke up for my protection.”
“I see. Well, we shall return to civilization within the hour, and I trust neither of you is the worse for wear. Miss Bennet, I do hope that you, in particular, may quickly put this dreadful experience behind you.”
I nodded but knew within my heart that it would be an exceedingly long time before I forgot one moment of this journey.
Shortly thereafter, the colonel left us, walking back to check on the prisoner in answer to a request from his aide. I felt the loss of his presence. Now even more than before, I was aware of how Mr. Darcy’s arms encircled me, and how the canter of the horse caused us to sway back and forth against each other. And even more alarming, I was intensely aware of how silent Mr. Darcy remained now that we were alone.
I felt certain this would be the last time in my life that I would ever feel his arms about me.
* * *
That evening I was to join Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy for dinner. Hazleden was not a large town, similar in size to Meryton, but it possessed more than one inn, and the colonel had made arrangements for us to spend the night at the finest the community had to offer. He had carried from Town a change of clothes for Mr. Darcy and one for me that my aunt had prepared.
I was most interested in his recital of how things had transpired in our absence, especially as to my family. Mrs. Hurst and Caroline Bingley had been forced to endure captivity in the carriage with the menservants for several hours before the men eventually succeeded in kicking the carriage door open. The highwayman had not only securely closed the door, but tied it shut as well.
I could imagine their suffering! Two gentlewomen bound and gagged with three menservants
similarly constrained, all stuffed into the inside of Mr. Bingley’s carriage, which was crowded when transporting only four passengers, and the servants attempting to kick open a securely-tied door when they, themselves, had their feet bound? Abominable, I am sure, but I was forced to chew my lip to refrain from smiling at the thought.
During the colonel’s recital of these facts on our journey into Hazleden, I wondered if Mr. Darcy shared my amusement at such a vision. He did not indicate thus, and I quickly subdued such ill-timed thoughts. Was it only the day before that we had given ourselves up to the shared joy of uncontrollable laughter?
After being rescued by a mail coach, the sisters had reached London that first night, while we were held in captivity at the highwayman’s cabin. They had immediately dispatched a messenger to the Earl of Matlock, who arrived upon their doorstep well past midnight. He had then sent express posts to Hertfordshire early that very morning, one to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst and another to my father.
The gentlemen, along with my father and Jane, had arrived in London the next afternoon, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and his father had spent hours with the men discussing possible rescue attempts.
When I asked as to my father’s health, the colonel assured me that although worried, he remained well. Mr. Bingley had retrieved my trunk, and he and the colonel had escorted my father and Jane to the home of the Gardiners that evening. The colonel remarked how pleased he was to meet them. I wondered at Mr. Darcy’s reaction to such approval by his cousin of my Cheapside connections, but he remained silent the entire time.
At the inn, I endured curious stares while making my way upstairs to my quarters. Mr. Darcy and I were a surprising pair I am sure — dirty, unkempt and shockingly road worn.
Never had I enjoyed a bath more than the one I took in that small room above stairs. After washing my hair and scrubbing the journey’s filth from my body, I asked the maid to refill the tub with clean, steaming water. I then dismissed her for a half-hour’s time and simply soaked, revelling in the comfort derived from such luxury.
When the clock struck eight times, I knew that I must make my way to the dining room to join the gentlemen’s table. The maid had assisted me in dressing, and I was pleased that my aunt had sent one of my favourite gowns, a pale green frock. I surmised that Jane had suggested it, for she knew my preferences as well as I did.
With a final peek in the mirror, I was about ready to leave the room. The girl had done well with my coiffure, but I peered closer in the glass. Circles lay beneath my eyes, and my face had grown thin.
What did it matter? I asked myself. There was no one below who would notice my looks.
Upon descending the stairs, I saw both gentlemen in earnest conversation at the table. As I made my way into the room, Mr. Darcy saw me first. They both stood and bowed while I curtseyed. How strange that we so quickly reverted back to society’s formality, I thought, when only hours earlier, Mr. Darcy and I had undergone days of familiarity with each other.
I could not fail but admire Mr. Darcy’s appearance. It was amazing what a bath, shave, and a change in clothes could do for that gentleman’s image. He was remarkably handsome, and although he did not smile, I thought I detected a light in his eyes when he said my name.
“Miss Bennet, I see you have benefited from a return to civilization.”
“She certainly has!” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared. “You look utterly charming.”
I smiled and assured them that I was more than pleased to reacquaint myself with the niceties of life. I had rested over an hour on a soft feather bed.
“Is it not pleasant to have a pillow once more?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Indeed it is, sir.”
“Do you mean to say that while held at that cabin you did not even have a pillow, Miss Bennet?” the colonel asked.
“Nor a bed, sir.” I laughed lightly, but then caught Mr. Darcy’s eye and saw him frown with the barest shake of his head as though he were warning me not to speak further of our sleeping arrangements.
“That is insufferable! Where did those barbarians make you sleep?”
“The floor was our only option,” Mr. Darcy interjected. “Shall we not speak of more pleasant subjects?”
“Of course,” his cousin replied, as he filled our glasses from the carafe of wine placed on the table. He could not conceal the curious expression about his face, however, or the way he looked from Mr. Darcy to me and back again.
Fortunately, the serving girl appeared then, and we gave ourselves up to partake of the steaming plates put before us.
The colonel did attempt to speak of more mundane matters — discussion of the recent rains, the approaching Christmas season, and he questioned Mr. Darcy as to the abundance of sport in Hertfordshire — but by the close of the meal, our conversation inevitably returned to the harrowing experience we had just undergone. He informed us that he had dispersed a contingency of his men to the cabin to apprehend the woman.
“Gert? But why?” I asked. “She did not harm us. In truth, she is the one who released us.”
“Yes, but she is a material witness, and it is up to Darcy as to whether he wishes to press charges against her for aiding and abetting in the crime.”
When I turned to him, his expression was non-committal. “I think it best that she at least be questioned,” he said.
“I fail to see any reasoning behind that statement,” I said emphatically.
The colonel smiled. “Best to let us sort it out, would you not agree, Miss Bennet?”
No, I did not agree, but I bit my tongue and purposefully tried to modulate my tone. “What about the highwayman? Has he received medical attention?”
Instantly Mr. Darcy’s eyes met mine, but it was the colonel who answered.
“Yes, he has, and Mr. Jones removed the bullet about an hour ago. It seems you were correct. My cousin’s amateur doctoring proved to stem the loss of blood, and if all goes as planned, the rogue should be healthy enough to join his mates in Newgate and heal in time for trial.”
“Shall Morgan be imprisoned with the men who shot him? Surely, that would prove dangerous, would it not, Colonel?”
“Well, they will be bereft of weapons, so I see little to fear.”
“Yes, but — ”
“You must not worry about the highwayman’s benefit. After all, he had little concern for yours,” the colonel answered.
“I beg to differ, sir. Although Morgan did take us hostage, I believe ultimately it was he who was responsible for our freedom.”
“What? I thought you said the woman released you.”
“She did,” Mr. Darcy said, “but she told us Morgan gave her the key.”
“And while imprisoned, it was Morgan who allowed us certain necessities that added to our comfort,” I added.
“Well, you owe him little gratitude for that. I would not describe sleeping on the floor as a comfort,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied.
“No, but — ”
“What Miss Bennet means,” Mr. Darcy interrupted, “is that in the long run, Morgan proved less menacing than his men, although that hardly proves him guiltless.” He turned a piercing gaze upon me. “Would you not agree?”
I nodded and said nothing more. What could I say? Morgan was guilty of kidnapping, robbery, and extortion. The fact that he had saved me from Sneyd’s attack or that he had spared us by allowing our release did not absolve him of those crimes. And yet, I longed for the colonel or whatever authorities who held him at least to know of his background and all that had happened to him. How could I speak of it, however, without appearing to favour the man?
I sipped from the glass of wine, my mind miles from the scene before me.
“Is that not true, Miss Bennet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam broke my musing, and I was ashamed to know nothing of what he asked. I begged his pardon, and he repeated the question, something about the beauties of the Hertfordshire countryside. I murmured my concurrence, and he continued.
“I recall visiting a p
ortion of that county a few years back, and I enjoyed it immensely.”
“Oh? I wonder that we did not meet,” I said.
“My visit was constrained to the southern portion. Is not Netherfield somewhat north, Darce, near Meryton, I believe you said?”
Mr. Darcy nodded.
“I have never travelled through there. But since meeting you, Miss Bennet, I shall look forward to exploring that part of the country. Now, if you had proved to be part of the family that Darcy wrote and warned me about, it would be another story, would it not, Cousin?” He laughed and raised his eyebrows at Mr. Darcy, which pricked my interest.
“And what family might that be?” I asked.
“I do not know their name, but Darce here was all up in arms over some frantic husband-hunting mother with a houseful of unmarried daughters. Seems she handpicked his young friend, Bingley, for one of them, and it was all that Darcy could do to talk the man out of declaring himself.”
My pulse began to race. I felt as though the blood had drained from my face. “Indeed? How interesting! Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley and takes prodigious care of him.”
“Care of him! Yes, I believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. I would think Bingley very much indebted to him.”
Mr. Darcy had begun to squirm in his chair. He sat up straighter, coughed lightly, and placed his hand at his throat as though his neckcloth might be in danger of strangling him.
“What is it you mean?” I asked. “Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”
“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady, is that not correct, Darce?”
“Well, uh — ” Mr. Darcy said.
“Is that true, sir? Do tell us.” I demanded. “And why were you to be the judge? Why should you determine and direct in what manner your friend is to be happy?”