Trapped at Rosings

by Emily Russell

  Darcy’s eyes softened at once with a look of concern that surprised her. “I know, Miss Bennet. That is perfectly natural. But by tomorrow, this will be a bad memory and nothing more. Our friends know you and I come to this glade. It is the first place they will search for us when they discover our absence.”

  “I am sure you are right.”

  Darcy shifted, and as he did so, Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Mr Darcy, you are bleeding,” she cried. Darcy looked down. A flower of red blossomed from his shirt as his coat fell open. He covered it again, but Elizabeth reached forward to stop him.

  “You knew about this, but you did not tell me? For God’s sake, sir, there is no prize for bleeding out in silence. You should have told me at once.”

  “It is not much. A flesh wound. I did not wish to worry you.”

  “You would have worried me far more if you had bled out during the night. I thought the injury to your hand was the only one. Here, you must allow me to see it.”

  Darcy’s eyes met hers, and she coloured. He would have to move his shirt so she could look at his bare torso. But this was not the time for maidenly modesty. If Darcy’s injury was serious, it would be poor comfort to her to know she had at least stuck to the rules of propriety.

  “I do not believe it is so bad,” said Darcy.

  “It is hard for you to judge. You cannot see it properly as I will be able to. Come, let me look.”

  Darcy reluctantly removed his coat, and Elizabeth moved towards him. She hesitated before pushing Darcy’s shirt to one side and swallowed. There was a lot of blood there. Was it too much? She did not know.

  “If only we had water,” she said. “It is hard for me to see the injury with so much blood in the way.”

  Her fichu was already wrapped around Darcy’s hand. She pulled her shawl free and used it as best she could to wipe away the blood. She leaned closer to examine the wound, frowning in concentration.

  “I do not pretend to be an expert in gun wounds,” she said. “But I think it may be a scratch. It looked as though the bullet grazed your skin but did not lodge.” She released a breath. “Thank God! But we must bind it up, so it does not become infected.”

  Her shawl was too stained with his blood to be much use. Before Darcy could stop her, Elizabeth reached down and tore a long strip of muslin from the hem of her gown. She leaned around his bare torso to tie it around his waist, covering the wound. As soon as her arms went around him, causing her to press against him for a moment, Darcy tensed.

  “Perhaps I should do that, Miss Bennet.” His voice was strained.

  She looked up, her arms still around him. “Am I causing you discomfort?”

  Darcy hesitated. “In a way.”

  Elizabeth stood back and allowed him to tie it. She felt oddly relieved. Being so close to him and having her arms around him made her feel rather warm and flustered in a way she had never felt before.

  She walked to one of the boarded windows to pretend to peer through the gap. Between her dislike of the man and the strange effect his closeness had on her, the night would be an ordeal. If only the cottage had a separate room, somewhere, she could go to escape his presence. A place where she could close the door between her and him and collect her jumbled thoughts.

  Of all the men for her to be trapped with. Why could it not have been Colonel Fitzwilliam?

  On the other hand, it could have been worse. If she’d been trapped all night with Mr Collins, she did not think either of them would have survived.

  Chapter 8

  When Darcy had bound himself up and fixed his shirt back in place and pulled his coat on, Elizabeth returned to take her stool. They sat together in strained silence.

  “I hope you are not in too much pain,” she said finally.

  “Not very much. It is slightly uncomfortable and nothing more.”

  They lapsed into silence once again.

  “It is strange, is it not, that both of us should be here at the same time? We parted with no expectation of seeing one another again, and yet you arrive just as I do to stay in residences separated only by a lane.” Darcy spoke casually, but he seemed to be searching for something in her as he spoke.

  Elizabeth flushed. Surely he did not think she came here to stay so that she might throw herself in his path? It was not outside the realm of possibility. A man like him must have many women all eager to become Mrs Darcy, all willing to push themselves in his presence so he might notice them. Miss Bingley was such a woman. Elizabeth was somewhat surprised the lady had not schemed an invitation here herself.

  “It is not such a coincidence,” she said. “My cousin is your aunt’s clergyman. My closest friend married my cousin a few months ago, and it is only natural I should come here to see her. It is nothing very remarkable that we should encounter one another.”

  “I was thinking it is strange how fate throws people together,” said Darcy. He still looked at her, searching for something but she knew not what it was.

  “I do not think it is fate. Merely people who know the same friends, so whose paths are likely to cross.”

  She looked around the tiny cottage to change the subject and sighed. “I confess I am tired, but I do not know how we are to sleep. The ground is hard and uncomfortable, and the cottage grows colder all the time.”

  “Here…” Darcy removed his coat. “Take this and lie down. I will stay awake.”

  “You cannot stay awake. You are injured.”

  “I will not sleep anyway in case someone passes by who might free us. Take it, Miss Bennet. Make yourself comfortable if you can. If anything happens, I will wake you.”

  Elizabeth hesitated then reluctantly took the coat.

  “But now you will be cold all night.”

  “I do not feel the cold easily.”

  Elizabeth took the coat to a corner away from Darcy. She told herself it was to maintain her privacy, and such was the case. But she also recalled Jane teasing her about sleeping with her mouth open, and she had enough vanity not to wish Darcy to see her like that even if she did not care for him. She wrapped his coat around her and lay down. She was vaguely aware that it smelled nice. Despite the distressing situation, she soon fell asleep.

  Rough hands grabbed her. She cried out, but a hand clamped over her mouth, holding her so hard she could scarcely breathe. A cold circle pressed to her temple, and stale breath washed over her as a voice whispered: “You’re coming with me.” She kicked and struggled, but the man had a terrifying strength, and she knew whatever he intended to do to her, she could not prevent it. The feeling of helplessness was more terrifying than anything else. He wrenched her away, away from anyone who could help her, who might see her and come to her aid. He pulled her into the dark and as he did so, his hand over her mouth loosened just enough to allow her to scream…

  “Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet. Elizabeth!”

  Hands shook her, and she cried and instinctively lashed out, striking a hard shoulder. A hand went to her face and caressed her, speaking her name urgently in a low voice, lips near her ear as she felt herself lifted into a pair of strong arms.

  She opened her eyes. It was not the man of her nightmares who had her. Mr Darcy held her against her chest as if she was a child, rocking her gently as he spoke soothing words.

  “It is alright, Miss Bennet. You are safe. It was a bad dream.”

  It was a dream. There had been a man who had threatened her, but he was far away. In his place was Mr Darcy, a man she disliked but one she knew would never hurt her and would always see her safe. In her relief, she slumped against him, resting against his chest, her head on his shoulder as her heart rate returned to normal. They sat curled together on the floor, their arms around one another and to Elizabeth’s embarrassment, hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She discreetly tried to wipe them away, but Darcy noticed. He tilted her chin up to look at her and wiped them away with his thumb.

  “It’s alright,” he said again. “It was a dreadful ex
perience, and you faced it with more bravery than a hundred soldiers.”

  Elizabeth leaned back against him as he caressed her, running his hands up and down her spine. It was Mr Darcy, but she could not bring herself to push him away as she knew she should. She needed his comfort and his steady strength. She lay her head against his warm neck, noticing how nice he smelt. Her breathing returned to normal, and although the tears still fell, she was not sobbing now.

  “When we receive a dreadful fright, sometimes the full horror of it does not hit us until later,” Darcy said. His voice was a low grumble. “One can be in good spirits immediately afterwards, but hours or days and even longer than that, the impact of what happened can hit them all at once. You are safe now, Miss Bennet. Those men will not dare stay around. They know what will happen to them if they are caught, and they locked us here to put as much space between here and them as they can. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

  Elizabeth sighed. The terror was draining away, being replaced by a heavy warmth.

  “I dreamed he was pulling me away. You had turned your back, so you did not see where he was taking me.”

  She felt Darcy draw in a sharp breath and tighten his arms around her reflexively. “That would not have happened. I made sure I was aware of you at all times.”

  “Yes, you did.” She swallowed. “I did not thank you.”

  He hushed her, but she continued. “I should have thanked you. If you had not been there, I cannot allow myself to think of what might have happened. And you injured yourself to protect me. Thank you, Mr Darcy.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. Their faces were so close their breaths mingled. His gaze dropped to her lips, and her heart raced once again. Was he about to kiss her? She should look away, move away from him but she could not. He lowered his head towards her then stopped with a sigh and moved back.

  Elizabeth felt a pang of disappointment that confused her. This was Mr Darcy, of all people. Had she really wanted him to kiss her?

  “What time do you think it is?” she asked to hide her confusion.

  “I cannot say. I should think it is the early hours of the morning. Do you think you can sleep again?”

  “I— “ Elizabeth hesitated. The idea of closing her eyes and seeing their faces again, of feeling that same terror…

  She shuddered. Darcy felt it.

  “I will stay here with you,” he said. “Close your eyes and go to sleep. I am here.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. She should refuse, tell him she was well and allow him to return to the other side of the room. But she could not bring herself to do so. The truth was, his presence gave her a sense of peace and comfort she had never known before, compared to the sheer terror she had felt hours earlier. She did not want him to move away.

  She nodded and eventually fell back asleep.

  A bird sang just outside the sealed window. Elizabeth opened her eyes with a frown. Where on earth was she?

  Of course. The cottage.

  The previous night's events rushed back to her all at once. Something hard but warm held her. She looked down. Darcy’s arm was around her, holding her against him as she lay with her head on his chest and their legs tangled. She looked up. At some point during the night, they had laid down on the floor and slept. Darcy’s eyes were closed. He looked much younger when he slept. Somewhere in her still drowsy mind Elizabeth knew she should disentangle herself from his arms, but she could not deny she felt warm and safe there. She was too comfortable to move away.

  As she stirred, Darcy moved. He tightened his arm and pulled her closer and murmured something. His lips touched her forehead. She froze and swallowed. Darcy’s eyes opened, dark eyes looking into hers. He frowned and released her just as she moved away from him.

  He sat up. “I — good morning, Miss Bennet. I must apologise. I did not mean to sleep.”

  “You needed it,” she replied. Her voice was high with embarrassment. “I hoped you slept well — I mean— “ she broke off, feeling hopelessly confused.

  To have experienced such intimacy and with Mr Darcy of all people. How was it possible? But she remembered his kindness and how he held her — and she remembered how she thought he had been about to kiss her but then moved away and her disappointment when he had done so. Her face coloured with confusion and she turned away, looking for something to do to distract herself from her embarrassment.

  Of course, there was nothing. From the morning sunlight coming through the gaps in the window, the cottage was bare. Not even a table she could pretend to wipe down. She heard Darcy stir behind her as he looked through the gap in the planks.

  “What time do you think it is?” she asked.

  “I cannot see the sun to know for sure, but it seems rather brighter than I expected. I wonder if it could be later than…”

  A commotion came from outside. Several voices came into the clearing. At once, Elizabeth’s thoughts flew to the men from the night before, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. Darcy immediately moved to her side and held her against him.

  “It is alright, Miss Bennet. It could not be them. They would not dare…”

  A voice came from outside, louder and more cantankerous than any villain with a gun.

  “Where are my nephew and my daughter? If they are together, they will have to take steps to remedy the situation.”

  Elizabeth and Darcy looked at one another. Lady Catherine had arrived.

  Chapter 9

  Lady Catherine had been much distracted the night before. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been surprised when she announced they would have no guests and instead would enjoy a quiet family dinner. He was disappointed to lose the company of the playful Miss Bennet.

  “And where is Darcy?” he asked. “I have not seen him in some time.”

  “No doubt he has gone on one of his walks,” said Lady Catherine. “I do not expect to see him this evening. I have arranged for a plate to be sent to his room when he returns.”

  Fitzwilliam sighed. He would not even have the company of his favourite cousin.

  “And where is Anne? Surely she is here?”

  “Anne is also out walking. It is time she gained some independence and strength. My London physician assured me that walking in the fresh air is the best way to do it.”

  Fitzwilliam narrowed his eyes as his aunt glanced away. Lady Catherine had always seemed more interested in keeping Anne unwell, not in encouraging her strength. Was this a ploy to throw her and Darcy together or was she finally learning to put her daughter first?

  Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine and Mrs Jenkinson had a rather quiet meal devoid of much conversation apart from Lady Catherine’s opinions on how Fitzwilliam should manage his army career. As Lady Catherine’s opinions far outranked her abilities and understanding, Fitzwilliam did not pay her much attention. It was not needed, however. Lady Catherine talked at people, not to them, and was usually oblivious to their responses or the lack thereof.

  Fitzwilliam was surprised at breakfast the next morning to find that once again, it was just him and his aunt. Mrs Jenkinson had been given a half day’s holiday, and there was no sign of Anne or Darcy. As soon as they finished eating, he went out to the yard to ride over to Hunsford to see if his cousin had gone there when his aunt ran outside, frantically calling his name.

  “Richard! Richard! Darcy and Anne did not return from their walk last night! I do not know where they are! Oh, do you suppose they are together somewhere?”

  “I think it unlikely,” said Fitzwilliam in alarm. “Where would they have gone? They would not have run away together. Darcy would never do such a thing. Something must have happened to them.”

  “Like what? This is a safe village. We do not have ruffians through here; I would not allow it.”

  Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. This was not the time for his aunt’s illusions.

  “We must search the woods at once. That is where Darcy walks, and I’d imagine that is also where Anne would g
o. And we must summon the magistrate.”

  “He is here,” said Lady Catherine.

  Fitzwilliam stopped in surprise. “What? How could he possibly be here already?”

  “I summoned him to speak with me about that camp that has been in the meadow. He is to go to talk to them and has brought several of the prominent men in the town with him.”

  “How fortunate they are to hand just when they are needed,” said Fitzwilliam. He could barely keep the suspicion from his voice. “Well, come then. The more people we have to search for them, the sooner we shall find them.”

  Fitzwilliam ran to the courtyard where the men waited. His heart twisted with concern for his two cousins. He desperately hoped they had not come to any harm. But what other explanation could there be? Darcy would not have stayed out all night, and Anne scarcely ventured past the park’s boundaries. Something must have prevented them from coming home. He suspected his aunt knew more than she let on, but he could not figure out what that might be.

  The magistrate, the innkeeper, the smith, and several wealthy merchants stood in the courtyard speaking amongst themselves. They looked up with relief when they saw Fitzwilliam.

  “We are waiting on Lady Catherine, Colonel,” said the magistrate, Mr Taylor. “She wishes us to speak with…”

  “I am sorry to interrupt you, Mr Taylor, but I greatly need your help. My cousins are missing. We must find them at once. Darcy likes to walk in the woods so that is where we should start.”

  The men gathered around him in concern and fired questions at him. By that time, Lady Catherine had joined them. Even with her apparent concern for her daughter and nephew, her back was still straight.

  “I fear something is amiss and I only hope that they are together, wherever they are,” she said.

  “We will do all we can to find them, Lady Catherine,” said Mr Acton, a wealthy neighbour who had settled in the area after his work in London had prospered.

  “It is dreadfully hard.” Lady Catherine drew a shuddering breath. “Even if they are found unharmed, the damage to my daughter’s reputation will be irreparable. I never imagined it would come about this way, but if they are found together, they will have to marry at once to restore my daughter’s reputation.”