"I believe we shall serve ourselves tonight," Darcy informed his retainers.
The butler pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Very good, sir," he said. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, thank you," Darcy responded. "You may leave us now."
The butler bowed and departed, as did the other servants.
"Where were you considering going?" Darcy demanded.
"Brighton," Elizabeth replied.
"Don't be absurd!" Darcy cried. "There is only one place for you to go, and that is home."
"I have already told you I am not going back there, and that is final!"
"We shall see about that!" Darcy muttered between clenched teeth.
"Really? What do you imagine you can do if I refuse? Will you turn me out of doors?"
Frosty silence.
"For if you are thinking of doing so, let me know and I shall pack immediately," Elizabeth continued. "But let me assure you that if I do leave London—and I am not at all certain that I shall—it will definitely not be to go to Hertfordshire."
"Don't trouble with your packing," Darcy returned grimly. "I have no desire to evict you."
"Indeed?"
"Indeed."
"I hope you mean that."
"I do."
"Because if you want to send me away, I shall be only too happy to leave."
"I beg your pardon," Darcy stated coldly. "I do not follow you."
"Let me make it clear," Elizabeth remarked primly. "I have no wish to stay where I am not wanted."
Darcy was speechless with rage. In a towering passion he leaped up from his seat.
Darcy fought with himself to get himself under control once more. His brain raced. He had to think of a strategy for dealing with Elizabeth. That she ought to leave London as soon as possible, he never doubted. But how was he to obtain her consent? Her whole attitude to his plan was hostile, unwilling.
Elizabeth didn't realize how painful the situation was for him. His thoughts were consumed by Mr. Bingley and his engagement. He should have done everything in his power to separate his best friend from that young lady. He should have stayed at Netherfield Park. Toward Bingley, he would have been kinder than he has been to himself.
But it was not too late.
I need to get her out of my house now, Darcy told himself as he stood looking at Elizabeth still seated.
He could at least save them both from ruin by returning her home immediately. And that meant, since she stubbornly refused to see reason, that he had to arrange it so that he could spirit her away despite any objections she might make.
After the meal, Elizabeth and Darcy went to their rooms to change for the ball.
* * * *
As she and Darcy passed from the entrance hall, left through the ground floor anteroom into the ballroom, she saw that almost the whole of London society was present.
"It looks as if it will be a lively affair," she commented to Darcy.
He grunted in reply.
Elizabeth bit her lip. He had hardly spoken a word to her all evening.
He behaves as if he wants to get rid of me, she thought as she made her way around the edge of the dance floor.
What other explanation could there be for his strange manner?
Elizabeth tried to fathom it out as she joined in a reel and then a quadrille. She was still turning it over in her mind when George Wickham asked her for the next waltz and she accepted.
"Are you enjoying the party?" he queried.
"Very much," Elizabeth answered. "But what a strange-looking room this is, don't you think?"
Wickham glanced around. Yes. The barn-shaped chamber with its homely trellis-rose-patterned wallpaper did accord oddly with the silks and satins of the guests.
"I believe the owner is a coach builder who used to store carriages here," he remarked.
Elizabeth started to laugh. "You are joking!" she declared.
"No. No. Perfectly serious. You ask our host if you don't believe me. He's around somewhere."
"I'll take your word for it."
They danced for a while in silence and then Elizabeth saw Darcy looking at her. His eyes dark and solemn.
"Mr. Darcy looks more grim than usual," Wickham remarked to his partner.
Elizabeth frowned.
"It is getting rather crowded in here. We may have difficulty meeting up later," Wickham stated.
Hurriedly she thought of a way they might deal with that problem.
"What if I give you my scarf?" she asked. "If you're holding it or wearing it, it will make it easier for me to pick you out."
As she spoke, she offered him her purple kerchief, the one she had been embroidering that very day.
"Splendid idea!" Wickham exclaimed. "I'll see you later—after supper—all right?"
"Fine," Elizabeth agreed. "See you then."
They parted and Elizabeth continued to dance with the other gentlemen present. It was nearly midnight when Darcy reappeared.
As the dance drew to a close, Elizabeth noted that Mr. Darcy was conversing with an acquaintance and they both seemed very serious.
A few seconds later, Darcy came up to Elizabeth. For a moment she thought he would ask her to dance—it would have been the first time that evening—but instead, he seized her by the hand and dragged her unceremoniously out of the ballroom.
"Where are we going?" Elizabeth stammered.
"Outside," Darcy replied tersely. "I have a carriage waiting."
Elizabeth swallowed. She could see the vehicle as she came from the house into the warm night air. Darcy's coat of arms were blazoned on the side and it was loaded with her luggage.
"No-no!" Elizabeth whispered. "I won't go."
"Yes you will," Darcy retorted ruthlessly.
Elizabeth writhed in his grasp. "Why?" she gasped.
"Because it is necessary."
"Where are you sending me, Mr. Darcy?"
"To Hertfordshire."
"No!" Elizabeth cried.
She saw nothing except the misery, the degradation and the humiliation facing her there. She protested and struggled, but it was useless. Darcy refused to listen to her desperate pleas to remain; and he held onto her with a grip of iron.
When the footman opened the carriage door, Darcy lifted Elizabeth up and pushed her inside, locking it behind her so that she could not escape. Instantly, she endeavored to open the door on the other side, but that too, was securely fastened. And the glass was so thick that it could not be broken.
In a flash, Elizabeth recollected the stream of people who had come and gone from the house earlier that evening. She guessed that it was then that Darcy had managed to make the arrangements.
She was trapped!
Her heart sank as she listened to Darcy giving instructions to his coachman and footmen. Presently, he approached her.
"I have told my servants to escort you to Hertfordshire," he informed her through the glass. "They will see you safely to your home."
Elizabeth was shocked. She was a prisoner!
She shivered with horror as Darcy commanded his flunkies not to let her out of their sight until they had brought her to her home. That meant that she would remain captive until they reached Longbourn itself.
Elizabeth banged frantically on the window of the carriage. At the sound of her knocking, Darcy, on his way back into the ballroom, halted and half turned towards her.
"Please!" she begged touchingly. "Please don't send me to Hertfordshire! Mr. Darcy!"
Darcy shook his head in negation. Every line of his expression showed his determination to carry out his cruel plan.
Elizabeth burst into tears. "Please! Please!" she cried heartrendingly, as her small hands beat pathetically on the glass.
Darcy gazed at her. His mouth twisted in an odd manner that she did not understand. For a moment she hoped he would relent. Then his face hardened and he entered the ballroom.
Soon after he had disappeared from view, the carriage started on its way and Eliz
abeth sank into her seat.
"How could he do this to me?" she demanded tearfully. "How could he be so unfeeling?"
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth cried until she could cry no more. The journey from London was the most agonizing, the most humiliating experience she had ever endured.
As Darcy had commanded, she was kept under lock and key. Neither her indignation nor her entreaties had any effect. Mr. Darcy had decided; thus it would be.
Thanks to the weather conditions prevailing, the trip took longer than usual and it was only on Sunday morning that they reached Hertfordshire. By then the fight had gone out of Elizabeth. She was shattered and utterly worn out, so she raised no objections to their staying in town overnight.
Gradually, however, Elizabeth's misery began to turn to anger. How dare Mr. Darcy behave the way he had done! Who did he think he was? What did he think she was?
She spent the rest of the day and half the night brooding about how to obtain her revenge and by Monday morning, she had found it.
Instead of allowing Darcy's servants to see how furious she was, Elizabeth pretended that now, at last, she understood why Darcy had bundled her off the way he had done. And, by their arrival in Meryton, she had convinced them that she was her usual composed self.
The servants were footmen and coachman. There was not a single woman among them, so they did not have the faintest suspicion that Elizabeth was practicing her wiles on them, and she managed to lull them into a false sense of security. A woman might have penetrated her deception, but the men did not guess.
Darcy's retainers accepted Elizabeth's statement that she actually lived far to the north of the metropolis and that there would be insufficient time for them to drive her to her house that night. They believed her when she told them it would be better if they stayed at an inn until Tuesday morning and then completed their trip.
Accordingly, they lodged at the coaching inn, and complied with Elizabeth's suggestion that they should bring the luggage up into her rooms as it would be safer there than on the post chaise.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. Once she was alone, she was able to do as she wished. She soon found her old battered valise and packed it swiftly. She had intended to leave behind every single item which Darcy had given her.
But as she sorted through the gowns, she came across two she had never worn. Gently she fingered them. They were exquisite. How could she bear to part with them?
I suppose it wouldn't hurt to keep just these two, she reflected. After all, she deserve some sort of compensation for everything.
Thus having convinced herself with her excellently illogical reasoning, she packed those two gowns among her own dresses in her valise. Then, when the servants, (who assumed that she was lying down recovering from a nasty headache, the result of the bumpy roads), were not looking, Elizabeth stealthily departed.
Elizabeth shivered as she made her way through the narrow winding streets. Caroline's warning about how Darcy would never marry her seemed to echo in her mind.
Now that Caroline had left London of her own accord, now that Darcy finally had her off his back, he had no further need for his chaperone.
He was finished with her. She had outstayed her welcome. She was no use to him now. And she had never known anyone who could make that so brutally plain.
I no longer amuse him, Elizabeth told herself. I bore him.
As she trudged home, her valise seemed to become heavier and heavier. Did she have to go to Longbourn? Alas, yes. Her meager savings were nearly gone. She had no other means of support. There was nothing she could do except throw herself on the mercy of her relations.
Elizabeth shuddered. Darcy had compelled her to go back to her mother, to her sisters, to Mr. Collins...and to a loveless marriage. That was how little she meant to him.
She had spoken the truth when she had said that she would not stay where she was not wanted. Unlike Caroline, Elizabeth had no desire to pursue a man. It was not in her nature.
She was not going to be humiliated a second time. She would not permit his servants to deliver her to Longbourn like a piece of unwanted baggage.
He had wanted to be rid of her and he would have his wish. But he would not be able to salve his conscience by telling himself that it was for her own good. No! She would not give him that pleasure.
It was still light when Elizabeth reached Longbourn that Monday evening. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door and then she waited.
Seconds later, Mrs. Bennet herself appeared. To say that she was surprised to see her daughter would be an understatement. For a moment Elizabeth was afraid her mother was going to faint with shock.
"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, finding her voice.
"Good evening, Mama," Elizabeth responded.
"Good evening, Lizzy" Mrs. Bennet returned.
"May I come in?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you."
Elizabeth stepped across the threshold.
Now it would begin. The denigration, the humiliation. London would recede into the dim distant past. It would become no more than a fairy-story. She would have to apologize for it, pretend she believed she had sinned.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and took the plunge. "I'm sorry I ran away, Mama," she stated.
Mrs. Bennet clasped her daughter to her. Perhaps her mother was not a vindictive woman after all.
"Oh my dear, so am I. So am I!" she cried. "But thank heavens you have come back!"
Elizabeth tried to smile but memories of Darcy intruded and she could not quite manage it.
"Why did you leave us?" Mrs. Bennet wanted to know as she led Elizabeth into the drawing room.
"I didn't want to marry Mr. Collins," Elizabeth replied.
"Foolish girl!" her mother declared.
Mrs. Bennet rang for the housekeeper to take Elizabeth's valise to her room and turn her bed down. Her sisters were summoned to welcome Elizabeth home and like their mother, they seemed genuinely pleased to see her once more.
Elizabeth started to breathe easier. It was not as difficult as she had anticipated. Perhaps returning to Longbourn would not be as bad as she had feared.
Chapter Seventeen
"We nearly went out of our minds trying to discover where you had gone," Jane said later that evening when they were alone. "How could you worry us so?"
"I wrote to you from London," Elizabeth reminded her. "Didn't you get my letters?"
"Yes, Lizzy," Jane answered impatiently. "But they gave us no clue as to where you were staying or what kind of company you were keeping."
Elizabeth went numb. She had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear Wickham warning her that the news of what she had been up to in London would get back to Longbourn somehow, and she had a terrifying notion that at any moment her mother would learn that she had been living under the same roof as Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth bit her lip and fell silent.
"I am so glad to see you again, dear sister," Jane informed her, "and looking so well, too!"
"Thank you, Jane. I am glad to be back," Elizabeth lied.
There was a tiny ache in her heart. She longed to be with Darcy.
"You don't sound very pleased," Jane commented.
"I have had an exhausting journey," Elizabeth responded, "and I am tired."
"Oh. In that case, why don't you go to bed?" Jane suggested. "Everything is ready for you, Lizzy. We can leave your unpacking until the morning. There is so much I need to tell you."
"Thank you, Jane," Elizabeth returned. "I shall do that."
"I'll say goodnight, then."
"Good night, Jane."
Elizabeth was grateful to Jane for not pressing her to talk more about her absence. She was both mentally and physically worn out and she desperately needed to rest. So, although it was still comparatively early, she had no trouble in drifting into slumber. Indeed, scarcely five minutes after she had blown out her candle, she was fast asleep.
&nbs
p; * * * *
It was with some bewilderment that Elizabeth saw herself in familiar surroundings when she awoke the following morning. She gazed around the room in astonishment. It had not altered since that day in November when she had run away.
Elizabeth frowned. Had she really been to London and stayed with Mr. Darcy? Or had she dreamt it?
She rose, dressed and came down to breakfast, where Mrs. Bennet, having bidden her good morning, began to relate the latest gossip. Her sojourn was hardly mentioned except in passing and the housekeeper's contribution to the conversation consisted of judicious remarks concerning the weather. What Elizabeth had not expected was the announcement that her dearest sister Jane was engaged to the master of Netherfield Park, Mr. Charles Bingley!
"Five thousand pounds a year, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet relayed. "We are saved!"
Everything has changed. They’ve hardly had time to be cross with me," Elizabeth reflected. Doubtless they have even had a moment to miss me.
Certainly, as far as she was aware, there was no outward indication that her trip to London had actually taken place.
Later that morning, however, Mrs. Bennet made a discovery. In helping Elizabeth to unpack, she came across those two exquisite evening gowns which her daughter had surreptitiously brought with her. And the moment she caught sight of them, she knew that Elizabeth had some explaining to do.
"Where did you get these, dear?" Mrs. Bennet queried.
Elizabeth glanced at the garments and her heart sank. When she had first entered the house the previous night, from the way Mrs. Bennet had behaved, she had allowed herself to believe that she would not have to say anything about her trip.
Elizabeth grimaced. Maybe she would have to tell her mother a bit about what had happened, but perhaps she could keep something back and thus prevent her mother from insisting that she be married in haste before the "scandal" was discovered.
Elizabeth clung to that hope as she answered casually, "You mean those two dresses?"
"Yes," Mrs. Bennet stated grimly. "Those two dresses."
"From my employer."
"Elizabeth!"
"That is the truth!"
It was the truth...in a manner of speaking. She had been "employed" by Darcy as his chaperone, and he had given her the outfits.
Darcy's Charade Page 11