by Lady Waller
The frogs in front of him, four to be exact, twisted their heads from side to side as if taking him in. He did the same just in case it was a way to communicate a hello. The frog closest to him inched forward and bumped his nose—or snout—since he couldn’t be sure of the correct terms for anatomy. The gesture appeared friendly so he bumped back. His instincts told him the frog was female.
A chorus of croaks followed like a cheering section at a horse race.
A deep croak followed the rest and a larger frog joined their group. His nose friendly frog hopped away and the larger frog used his front webbed foot to push Darcy hard, almost like a slap. Darcy’s instinct was to slap back so he did. Repeatedly. The larger frog held on to him and they rolled through the mud back and forth. Darcy pushed hard with both of his front legs and held the other frog down in the mud until it stopped struggling. Worried he’d killed his attacker, he backed away slowly. The larger frog pulled himself up, but didn’t continue their fight. He simply hopped away and into a small pond of water. The other frogs gathered around him and bumped his nose.
He picked apart what had just happened and logically it appeared he’d fought another male frog for his harem of female frogs. His arms were tired from the exertion and he sank into the mud the other male frog had vacated. The absurdity of it all engulfed him. He didn’t need a troupe of female frogs following him around, he needed to go home.
§
Wickham glanced around at the other men in his regiment. They’d gathered in a grassy field on the edge of town. Most of the men didn’t have a clue as to why they’d been called there, but he knew. What he couldn’t fathom was how they didn’t know they had a master strategist in their midst. If they had recognized him for his true worth, he’d have been promoted long ago instead of carrying along behind the coattails of such men as Colonel Forster. But his plan wasn’t to be like Forster, his plan was to own men like Forster.
Colonel Forster started a pipe and then addressed the gaggle of troops. “I need volunteers to assist in the search of a Mr. Darcy. The man was last seen in the woods north of Netherfield over a day ago. The superstitious locals are wont to call it the Dark Woods and believe the worst.”
The worst was right. Wickham hid his smile. The town of Meryton hustled back and forth like fools wasting their time searching for poor Mr. Darcy. He had no doubt the bewitched man had already met his untimely fate, and Wickham had no intention of spending the day traipsing through the woods searching for a dead frog.
He wondered if Elizabeth Bennet had walked to town today. Whilst he would prefer the company of a woman with a larger dowry, he had to admit, the precocious woman with the knowing eyes held his attention longer than most women could.
A rustling sound in the grass caught his attention and pulled him from his daydream. A frog hopped through the grass. A plain brown and green frog. Another one followed.
Wickham brushed his hand across his face. Was he seeing things? A muffled croaking sound broke through the men’s chatter. Could it be? Had Darcy survived and made it back to Meryton? His heart raced at the thought. Darcy could still speak and all it took was one person to believe him and take him back to the witch. His well-thought out plan would have been for nothing.
He should have killed the witch before she left the woods. He should have climbed the tree and killed Darcy. His hands began to shake.
“Mr. Wickham, are you with us, lad?” Colonel Forster asked.
“I volunteer,” he said, his voice sounding far away and scratchy. He cleared his throat hard. “I volunteer to assist in the search for Mr. Darcy.”
Colonel Forster pushed through the group of men and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.”
Smart man, Wickham thought. He’d return to the woods under the guise of searching for the man he now hunted. The fear settled and he allowed the smile to return. If Darcy wasn’t already dead, he would be soon.
§
Elizabeth followed the path to Mrs. Hucklebee’s shack. She’d been careful to stay out of sight of any men on horseback. Although she was disguised as a maid, she couldn’t risk someone recognizing her and reporting back to Papa.
She followed the edge of a ravine and passed a couple of dead elm trees. The leafless trees had been struck by lightning and bore black marks near their trunks. She checked the time on Papa’s watch and noted she had to return to Longbourn within the hour or risk losing all her freedom while Mr. Collins was in attendance.
The shack blended in well with the overgrown brush and if she hadn’t followed Mrs. Hucklebee here on more than one occasion, she’d never have learned the correct path to follow. The dead trees were the unmistakable X that marked the spot. Mrs. Hucklebee seldom ventured into Meryton, but Elizabeth had noted her appearance the few times she did and thought to befriend her. Everyone needed a friendly face to visit even if they denied that truth to themselves. Mrs. Hucklebee told her stories of her youth and the family she’d had before they’d become ill with fever. After trying several herbal remedies to heal them, the rumors had started that she practiced witchcraft. When both her children died, the town hadn’t shown the least bit of sympathy. Her husband sold their house and most of their belongings and left her behind. Unwilling to leave the Shire where her children were buried, Mrs. Hucklebee built a shack deep in the woods. The woeful tale broke Elizabeth’s heart, and she did all she could to bring the smallest amount of joy to the woman’s life.
Today that joy would be in the form of a ripe pear and conversation. Elizabeth tapped on the door and waited for an invitation. When there was no answer, she tapped again and called out to the woman. “Mrs. Hucklebee, it is Elizabeth Bennet. Are you well today?”
She pushed on the door and the hinges creaked as it opened. If the woman were in town or out picking mushrooms, Elizabeth could at least leave the pears in a place where a silly woodland creature wouldn’t grab them.
The one-room shack smelled of the dirt-packed floor. The straw bed in the corner had a thick blanket folded at the edge. The only piece of furniture of true convenience was the wood burning stove near the window. A pipe from the top pushed through a hole in the roof so that the smoke didn’t become trapped inside. The ashes in the belly of the stove were grey and black and it didn’t appear as if it had been used overnight. There were two shelves and Elizabeth put the pears on the highest.
The door hinges creaked again and Mrs. Hucklebee came through the door. “Be gone with you!” She had a long stick that had been sharpened at the end.
Elizabeth screamed and dropped the pears on the floor.
Mrs. Hucklebee shoved her disheveled hair out of her face with one hand, but kept the pointed stick at the ready. “Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes!” She didn’t move until Mrs. Hucklebee lowered the stick. “You frightened me.” She bent over and retrieved the bruised fruit. “I brought you a couple of pears.”
The older woman set the stick up against the door. “I apologize, dearest.”
With the apron, Elizabeth dusted off the pears and handed one to Mrs. Hucklebee. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. “Were you expecting someone else?”
The woman eyed her warily. “Today is not a good day for a visit.”
“Have you heard about the missing gentleman from Netherfield? A Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
Mrs. Hucklebee sank her teeth into the pear and chewed. After she swallowed, she finally answered. “I heard.”
Since there were no chairs, Elizabeth leaned against the wall. “I was wondering if you had seen him. They say he rode off into the Dark Woods and only his horse returned.”
The other woman took a second bite and narrowed her eyes. “What do you care if this Mr. Darcy is found? Isn’t this the same man you complained to me about only three days ago before your fancy ball? The man with money but no good will towards others?”
Elizabeth drew a circle with the toe of her shoe on the dirt floor. She had indeed said many things against Mr. Darcy and thou
ght even worse. The guilt brought a light sheen of tears to her eyes. “I would never wish a man to succumb to some terrible fate only because he has hurt my pride. But I did wish it in my thoughts and now he’s missing.”
Mrs. Hucklebee set her pear down on the stove and moved to stand in front of Elizabeth. She grasped her hands. “You are a pure soul. Do you think it possible to cast bad luck upon a man with bad thoughts alone?”
Elizabeth sniffed and shook her head, unsure why the guilt sat so heavy on her heart. She squeezed Mrs. Hucklebee’s hands and then noticed dark red marks around the older woman’s wrists. She sucked in a sharp breath. “What happened to your wrists? Has someone hurt you?”
Mrs. Hucklebee snatched her hands away and pulled her sleeves down over the marks. “Don’t concern yourself with those, dearest. Tell me more about this Mr. Darcy of yours. Is he a smart man?”
Elizabeth thought back to the time she spent at Netherfield when Jane stayed on due to an illness. Mr. Darcy had proved to be knowledgeable about business and books. “He’s very intelligent as far as I can tell. Very worldly.”
“Perhaps you feel so badly for him because of admiration?”
Elizabeth scoffed. “If there ever was a more mismatched pair it would be Mr. Darcy and I.”
“Have your eye on another then?”
“There is a man with pleasant manners who I’d hoped to see again—a Mr. Wickham.” Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. Other than to Jane, she’d not admitted to anyone else her infatuation with him. She sighed and dipped her hands inside the apron pockets, her fingers brushing against Papa’s pocket watch. The time. She withdrew the watch and held it towards the light. More time had passed than she’d planned for. Mr. Collins would have alerted Mama to her absence by now.
“What have you there,” Mrs. Hucklebee asked.
“It’s Papa’s watch. I’m afraid I have to end our visit.”
Mrs. Hucklebee focused on the watch and drew her brows together. “May I hold your trinket for a moment?”
Elizabeth handed it to her. Mrs. Hucklebee twisted it between her fingers. “Two men on your mind, and one of them is definitely not right for you. An error I’ve made but can correct with a bit of time.”
“Mrs. Hucklebee, are you well?” Elizabeth worried at the woman’s mutterings. Her eyes had a glaze and her pupils had grown quite large.
The woman put the watch to her lips and whispered into the casing as if she was sharing a secret with a close friend. Elizabeth watched mesmerized with her breath held, unable to move.
Mrs. Hucklebee pulled the watch from her lips and handed it back. “Run along dearest, you’ll be late.”
Chapter Four
Darcy crawled through the mud, his pack of female frogs not too far behind him. The group had grown from four to eight. He’d had to nose bump them all. Any time another male frog came near the group, the females surrounded him, almost as if shielding him from any further fighting. They’d chosen him.
He hopped on the nearest tree and climbed to get a better sight advantage. He was still near the trail, but he hadn’t made near enough progress. There’d been no additional men on horses either and he’d lost hope that this part of the woods would be searched again. The search party was looking for a man, not a small frog.
How did the frog-talking work? He opened his mouth to speak, addressing his group of followers. “Hello, ladies.”
The frogs blinked and turned their heads. Then he croaked. Two of the eight females responded with similar sounds, deep and throaty. They were definitely communicating, but he didn’t have any clue as to what they said to one another.
At least he knew the words weren’t just his imagination. He could talk. Maybe the enchantment from the witch limited who he could speak to or perhaps what he could say. How was he to narrow down who to try once he found his way back to Netherfield?
A rustling from the side of the trail caught his attention. A woman in a white bonnet with a matching apron pushed through the shrubs on foot. She turned her head to listen to the sounds of the forest. Darcy glimpsed her profile and his heart raced with excitement.
Elizabeth Bennet.
But how? Was she part of the search party? Surely her father wouldn’t allow her to traipse through the woods on her own to help locate a missing gentleman. No, she would be here for a different reason. Did it matter? Of all the people he’d met since his stay at Netherfield, he could honestly say that she had the most practical sensibilities. Would she be someone he could speak to? He wouldn’t know unless he tried.
Hopping down from the tree, he judged the amount of hops and time it would take to catch her if she continued to walk cautiously through the bushes. Ten large hops, no time to pause and catch his breath. He made the first hop and his group of followers landed beside him. It wouldn’t do to scare her off with such a large group of creatures at his side.
Darcy took a deep breath and croaked out his version of “stay!” The females crouched down and a few crawled to hide under large fallen leaves. Interesting. Now on to Elizabeth. He’d lost time so he hopped with all the force of his legs to catch her. She avoided the trail and stayed close to the edge of the ravine. Two more hops and he’d be close enough for her to hear him.
She stopped to pull a watch out of her apron and he took the opportunity to latch on to the side of a tree near her height.
He tried to say Miss Elizabeth, but all that came out was a croak. With his tongue he cleaned his eyes and tried again. His mouth opened and what he wanted to say was her name, but only a deep—almost moaning—croak came out. His heart raced with fear. She was going to leave if he couldn’t get her attention.
His entire body rocked with his exertion. Elizabeth checked behind her and as she was about to put the watch inside her apron pocket, Darcy made a final plea at the top of his voice. “Please!”
Elizabeth’s head jerked up and she twisted around as if looking for the direction of the voice. She’d heard him that time. Now was his chance. He jumped and landed on the ground in front of her, rattling a pile of leaves. “Please, help me.”
She whirled back to face him and the watch slipped from her fingers and bounced over the side of the ravine.
“No!” she cried, dropping to her knees and leaning over the edge. She twisted back and forth, but stayed on the ground. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”
Darcy crawled close to her hand. He knew she was scared, but he needed her help to get back to Netherfield. “I’m here.”
She glanced down and her eyes rounded to the size of serving saucers. “D—did you just speak, little f—frog?”
He needed to choose his next words carefully. His mouth opened and a loud croak followed. Disappointment surged through him.
Elizabeth placed her hand over her heart. “Of course you didn’t speak. My mind must be playing tricks on me.” She glanced around. “But I did hear someone, didn’t I?”
Darcy tilted his head. At least she hadn’t kicked him away or screamed as he’d seen Miss Bingley do when they’d encountered frogs in the garden. He’d chosen the right person, but now he needed to figure out how to communicate with her.
He closed his eyes in an attempt to sort out the puzzle.
Elizabeth’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “I’m afraid I am in a bit of trouble, you see. That’s my father’s favorite pocket watch, and I took it without permission. There has to be a way to retrieve it.”
Darcy opened one eye and caught her pointing down in the ravine. He crawled to the edge and looked over the side. The pocket watch had caught on a small ledge of dirt.
Elizabeth laughed, and the strong sound filled the forest around them. “It’s almost as if you understand what I’m saying, little frog.”
“I do,” he said.
The words surprised him, but surprised her more as she gasped and scooted away. “Oh my! You can talk.”
Thank the heavens, the words were working. “Please don’t run away,” he begged.
“I rea
lly feel as though I should.” Her voice shook. “Frogs shouldn’t talk.”
He croaked. She jumped to her feet and backed against a tree.
Words, words, he needed them to work consistently. He needed her to stay. He needed her to be the unconventional, curious woman he knew her to be. He needed Elizabeth.
“Please,” he said again. “I—I…”
What would make her stay? He glanced over the ravine. “I can get your father’s pocket watch. But you would owe me a favor in return.”
She glanced down at the watch and back at him. How badly did she need the watch? Bad enough to believe in helping enchanted frogs, he hoped.
Patiently, he waited for a response. He’d already shocked her beyond what he himself would ever believe.
The thundering of hooves echoed through the trees. Elizabeth crouched down as two men on horseback flew down the trail, kicking up dirt as they passed. He’d missed his chance to jump on the riders and now the woman before him was truly the only hope left.
“I’ve been gone too long. I must get back.” She stood and started back through the bush. He wanted to call out, but again just an infuriating croak escaped his lips.
Darcy sucked in a deep breath. He’d failed.
She turned, her eyebrows drawn together and her lips forming a straight line. “I’ll return tomorrow morning, little frog. Right after sunrise. If you can get my father’s pocket watch, I shall grant you a favor.”
He panted with relief and watched her move further and further away from him down the trail. Elizabeth would be true to her word. She would return on the morrow and help him break the curse. A loud, throaty triumphant croak rocked his small frame.