Pirates and Prejudice

by Louise, Kara

  Pirates

  and

  Prejudice

  by

  KARA LOUISE

  Copyright © 2013 Kara Louise

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Image by Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design by Kara Louise

  Published by Heartworks Publication

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means -- for example, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording -- without the prior written permission of the publisher. An exception would be in brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kara Louise

  Pirates and Prejudice

  A note from the author to my readers -

  You may be reading this book because you love Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. If that is the case, you love the characters as much as I do, and I hope you will enjoy this variation that takes Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy on quite an adventure.

  If you are reading this book because you enjoy pirate stories,vmy hope is that you will be intrigued enough with the reference to Pride and Prejudice that if you haven’t read it, you will want to.

  This story begins after some important events have taken place in Miss Austen’s novel, and refers to them in backstory. While you can read this book without reading her novel, I think your enjoyment will increase having done so.

  I have several people I wish to thank who were a great help in getting this book written and into your hands. Thanks to Mary Anne Hinz and Gayle Mills for their copy edits, Jakki Leatherberry for her story edits, and to my sisters, Donna Natale and Cheryl Wallace, for their suggestions, support, and encouragement.

  I also wish to thank Jane Austen for her original inspiration of the characters and storyline. Little did she know how deeply all her novels would touch people two centuries later.

  I hope you enjoy Pirates and Prejudice.

  table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  London

  A harsh, accusing voice inside Fitzwilliam Darcy’s head uttered the words he had heard repeatedly the past few months, words that tormented and haunted him.

  “You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!”

  The words came unexpectedly and seemingly without reason. Each time he heard them, he futilely tried to ignore them or push them away. Unfortunately, they sounded as loud and clear as the first time Elizabeth Bennet indignantly expressed her decided estimation of his person.

  Darcy shook his head, wishing to free it of the assaulting voice. In a gruff whisper he said, as much to himself as to the voice, “I have had enough of this!”

  He drew in a deep breath as he attempted to clear his mind, but he was in too great a stupor for it to make a difference. He covered his ears with his hands as if that would prevent him from hearing those hurtful words. He desperately wanted the voice to go away, and he wished for some inner strength – inner resolve – to shake off this feeling of utter despondency. He could not believe the extent to which he had allowed himself to be tormented and to fall into such a reprehensible state.

  Each time he recollected the words Miss Bennet had lashed out at him, he felt a dagger pierce his heart. “Pull yourself together, man!” he muttered to himself. He felt trapped in a quagmire of self-pity and regret, from which it seemed impossible to extricate himself. His heart ached at both the memory of her and the despondency she had brought upon him.

  Darcy walked along a bumpy cobblestone road in London, not far from the docks on the River Thames. He hoped no one would recognize him in this less than desirable part of town. The possibility always existed, however, of encountering someone who might begin spreading rumours about his appalling state.

  A couple of street urchins skipped past him, not bothering to inquire after money. They barely glanced at him, as if they thought he was as destitute as they were. He was destitute in the depths of him. He had never, in the course of his eight and twenty years, allowed himself to become so negligent in his person, unbridled in discipline, nor tormented in his heart and mind.

  He inclined his head at the sound of footsteps behind him, but could only discern two men who had stopped to talk beneath the low-hanging branches of a nearby tree. He narrowed his eyes at them, thinking for some reason they seemed out of place, but he found it difficult to see them clearly enough to determine why he felt that way.

  He looked down and absently kicked a loose stone that lay in his path, sending it spiralling into the shrubbery.

  Darcy had come to London hoping to hide in the dark, crowded streets. He allowed his valet to take time off to visit his family and told him that he would notify him when he was again needed.

  When he first arrived in London, the persistent cold and rain seemed to echo his disposition. When the sun finally began shining a week ago, however, it did nothing to brighten his mood.

  Darcy let a small room near the docks owned by an elderly gentleman. The innkeeper was grateful that his new renter, although keeping much to himself, did not seem like one to cause problems and was always prompt with his payment.

  Initially Darcy had reasoned that the noise and constant activity in London would obscure his tormented thoughts. But it had done little to alleviate the real pain he felt in his heart.

  Normally when in London, he attended lavish parties and balls, went to the theatre or a concert, and met with family and friends. As he walked the darkened street, he realized how much he had wished – had even anticipated – doing all those things accompanied by Elizabeth Bennet.

  His hand went up and rubbed his stubbly chin. He had not shaved nor trimmed his hair in close to two months. He could now walk the streets of London in an unrecognizable state. No one would suspect that he was the ever-fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy. He seemed very much unlike the man on the inside, as well.

  He dropped his head, and the layers of his greatcoat flapped in the breeze as he walked nearer to the docks. The odour of fish and garbage pervaded the air, and his stomach writhed as the pungent smell assaulted his senses. He grasped a nearby railing that looked over the murky waters to steady himself.

  Footsteps behind him quickened. He twisted his head and noticed a somewhat fashionable couple walk towards him. He ducked his head so there would be no chance that they would recognize him, but not before seeing a look of disgust and revulsion etched on their faces at his despicable state. The gentleman ushered the woman away, muttering something indiscernible as he did.

  Relief washed over Darcy that they did not seem to recognize him, but any gratefulness he felt was soon overpowered by the feeling of shame that infused him. He swayed, and his knees threatened to buckle. He felt as though he had little or no strength left.

  He grasped the railing more forcibly as he felt himself begin to
collapse onto the ground. He had a fleeting thought that it would be best for him to jump into the river and end it all. He was calculating just how many steps he would have to take to reach the edge of the dock, when he heard another voice inside of him. This time, however, it was louder than normal.

  Get a grip, man! You know who you are!

  Darcy raked his fingers through his long, unkempt hair, letting out a groan. Looking up to the heavens, as if the voice came from the Almighty Himself, Darcy uttered a soft, “Help me.”

  He began to feel dizzy, and his body trembled.

  He heard approaching footsteps again, more strident than the others. He lowered his head down onto his hands, waiting for them to pass. Before he could formulate another thought, he felt himself being grabbed forcefully about his arms. His jerked his head from side to side, glancing up for a moment as he yelled in protest. It was the two men he had seen earlier lurking nearby.

  As he was pulled to his feet, he struggled to free himself saying, “I have little money, but take want you want and leave me be!”

  Their grip tightened, and they shoved him up against the railing. Darcy’s heart thundered in his chest as the wooden beam jabbed into his stomach. Fear rose in him that the men were going to throw him into the water. He thought it odd that just moments before he was pondering jumping in himself, and now everything inside fought against it.

  Darcy’s hands were suddenly pulled back behind him, and he felt something cold encircle his wrists. Handcuffs! “What are you doing?” he mumbled. “I demand to know what is going on!”

  “Yer time is up, Lockerly! Ye won’t be makin’ an escape this time!” one of the men said.

  “Ye will likely be hangin’ before the week is out!” the other said with a sneer.

  Darcy shook his head and tried to make sense of their words. He struggled one more time to free himself from their grasp and the cruel bite of the handcuffs, but was unable. Although nothing had sobered him up in the past month, this had quickly done it. But he was still at a loss to understand what was happening.

  He skewed his head to look up at the man on his left. “What do you mean? Who are you talking about? Who is this Lockerly?”

  The man let out a gruff laugh. “He is someone who don’t have much time left in this world. Now start walkin’ and don’t you be trying to git away again, or we’ll shoot you, we will! The reward for ye is dead or alive!”

  “But more if ye is alive!” The other man laughed viciously.

  As Darcy staggered slowly, he felt a harsh push from behind. It was all he could do to keep from stumbling. As his feet reluctantly obeyed, his mind struggled to comprehend. The name Lockerly sounded familiar, but he could not recollect why.

  The two men shoved him along impatiently, talking between themselves about the reward they would receive and how fortunate they were to have caught him. They occasionally gave him a sharp jab or roughly tugged his arm, ignoring any protest Darcy was able to mutter. He could not believe anyone would be treated in such a manner and began to wonder what they intended to do with him.

  He wriggled his hands, trying to free himself from the cuffs, but that only served to bring about more pain, as the metal rings gripped his wrists without mercy.

  “Where are you taking me?” Darcy asked, his voice and head a little clearer. “I demand to know who you are and why you are treating me in such a contemptible manner!”

  The two men laughed. One said, “I think Lockerly has been trying to pass himself off as a gentleman, with that smooth, polished voice.” He laughed again. “Too bad he don’t look the part of a gentleman!”

  Darcy winced. In refusing his offer of marriage, Miss Bennet had accused him of acting in a most ungentleman-like manner. He had always thought he displayed nothing but the opposite.

  At another harsh push, Darcy steeled himself. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy! You have no right to treat me thusly. I demand to know where you are taking me and why!”

  Both men laughed again as if it were a joke. “You are Fitzwilliam Darcy?” asked one. “Well, beggin’ your pardon, but I am the Prince Regent!”

  They turned down a dark alley, and Darcy could not be sure that his feet would cooperate much longer. He was being dragged along and had no means by which to steady himself since his hands were bound behind him. At one point, he faltered, and then stumbled to the ground. Turning his face just in time, the side of his head crashed into the dirt.

  Instead of asking whether he was hurt, the two men laughed again and jerked him up. Darcy felt warm liquid streaming down his neck. He knew he was bleeding from somewhere near his ear.

  “You have no right to be doing this!” he cried out to them. “I demand some respect and to be taken immediately to the authorities!”

  “Take you to the authorities?” the taller of the two men asked. “Now that we can do! As a matter of fact, we is takin’ ye to the Thames Police Headquarters!”

  They began to walk faster, and Darcy realized that they were indeed headed there. His body noticeably relaxed, and he found it much easier to walk when he was not fighting the two men. He took in a deep breath and hoped this misunderstanding might be cleared up shortly.

  They came to the large brick building, the men holding onto him in a firm grip.

  “We got ’em!” one of the men hollered. “We got Lockerly!”

  “I am not this Lockerly!” Darcy repeated as he attempted to recollect who Lockerly was and why they thought it was him.

  Several men rushed out. Darcy found himself in the grip of two more men. “Bring him in at once!” one of the men demanded.

  Darcy was forcibly brought inside, and another man rushed past them. He heard the sound of keys and a metal door being opened. He was then thrown inside, and he crumpled to the ground. One of the men came in and removed the handcuffs from his wrists. He slowly lifted his head as the door was closed and locked.

  He realized immediately that he had been put inside a cell. Perhaps it is merely my drunken state that has me here, he thought. I shall sleep it off and be released in the morning.

  The men remained outside the door speaking in low voices to each other. Darcy heard a little.

  “It is him; I am sure! Look at this drawing!”

  “He had much longer hair and beard,” said another.

  “Probably had it cut and shaved to disguise himself,” another suggested.

  “Just think!” one man shouted. “We have recaptured Lockerly, the pirate! He won’t escape this time, and he’ll soon suffer the same fate as all his shipmates!”

  Suddenly all the men laughed. “Looks like we’ll be having another hanging soon!”

  Darcy suddenly realized why he had recognized the name. Lockerly had been captured a while back, along with his band of pirates, but somehow he alone had escaped. All the men had been found guilty of piracy and hung. He shuddered as he thought that they had mistaken him for this evil man.

  He determined that he was not in a state to argue with these men and decided he would wait until morning when he had a clear head. He glanced about at his primitive surroundings and saw a block slab upon which a blanket and pillow rested. He pulled himself up onto it and lay down, finding it cold and hard. He closed his eyes, not bothering to unfold the blanket.

  Chapter 2

  The sound of men’s voices slowly roused Darcy. It was damp and cold; his muscles ached. The light of dawn barely lit his quarters, and he squinted, trying to adjust to the dim surroundings.

  As he looked about him, it took several moments to ascertain his whereabouts. When he saw the bars across from him, he was jolted awake at the recollection of the events of the previous night.

  He ran his fingers through the tangled curls in his hair and warily sat up. He could not decide whether he dreaded more being assaulted this morning by the consequences of his hard drinking last night or by the mercenary men who believed him to be this infamous escaped pirate named Lockerly.

  He shook his head in anger and despondency.
He was furious with himself and despaired of his current situation. He had allowed himself to wallow in the depths of his misery to such an extent that he was no longer recognizable as Fitzwilliam Darcy – neither inwardly nor outwardly.

  “God, help me!” he uttered in a hushed pleading, his eyes closed and his hands clasped together tightly. “Is anyone to believe who I am, or shall I go to the gallows and die?”

  He leaned against the wall, and his head fell back. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, his lips cracked, and his throat parched. Looking to his right, he noticed a basin of water and a cup. He dipped the cup in the water and took a sip.

  He spit it out immediately as the bitter taste assaulted his tongue. But even the small amount of moisture felt good in his mouth, so he took another sip and swallowed, grimacing as he did. Despite the foul taste, it did help ease his thirst.

  I must convince them that I am Fitzwilliam Darcy and be set free from this detestable place!

  “Hello, there!” He stood up and walked to the door of his cell, grabbing the bars tightly. He could hear the men off in another room.

  He called out again as he rubbed the tight muscles in his arm. “I demand to talk to someone!” His head began to swim again with dizziness and pound with pain, and he was only able to mutter weakly, “I am not this Lockerly! You have the wrong man!”

  When no one took heed of his cries, Darcy returned to the hard slab that had been his bed. Sitting back down, he put his head in his hands and massaged his forehead with his fingers. He took in a deep breath to help calm his stomach.

  The image of his sister, Georgiana, came to mind, and he wondered what she would think if she came to learn of the disgraceful condition – and place – in which he now found himself!

  He had not seen her since he first returned from Kent. It had been futile to try to keep his melancholy from her. She knew him so well. He could not tell her – he could not tell a single soul – that the one woman he had allowed himself to love had refused his offer of marriage. It was far too great a mortification; not only because she had turned him down, but also because he had been so completely wrong in his estimation of her regard towards him. And in the man he thought he was.