He was told apologetically that there was not, but apologies were no more useful to him than excuses. “Where else might I find one?” he asked frantically.
Mr. Darcy stepped forward, feeling so much changed by recent events that he took a fairly casual approach to the idea of adding one more member to their party.
“I could not help overhearing,” he said, “and it occurs to me that we might be able to take you to Gretna Green. That is our destination. I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and this is my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
The harried gentleman looked both of them over. Apparently, their appearance met with his approval, as he said after a moment, “That would be very helpful. It is imperative that I get there today. I am going to be married.”
“I assumed that was the case. Before we agree to anything, however, I would like to know something about the circumstances which compel you to this course of action. In addition, I would appreciate being allowed to speak with the lady to ascertain that she is not under any duress. I beg your pardon for mentioning it, but such a thing has been known to happen.”
“It has,” the gentleman agreed. “I do not take any offence. To answer your question, my circumstances are of the most ordinary sort. I am marrying a lady who has a long-standing acquaintance with my family. They approve of the match, as does hers.”
“Yet you are going to Gretna Green?”
The young man smiled. “That also has a very ordinary explanation. You see, I happen to live there.”
He smiled good-naturedly as Colonel Fitzwilliam burst out laughing.
“I suppose my desperation to get home did give the wrong impression,” he acknowledged. “The wedding is actually not until tomorrow, but I am expected today, and I do not want my betrothed to be worrying about me. I came to Carlisle on a business matter, expecting to be home again in good time.”
“Which can be achieved,” the colonel told him. “I can take you in my phaeton. I presume you are perfectly satisfied, Darcy.”
“Oh, quite. I am completely in favour of helping this gentleman.”
“My cousin has been in a particularly helpful mood of late. I fear that the real question in this case is whether or not you will object to travelling with us.”
The young man looked at them with curiosity.
Mr. Darcy felt a little awkward. “We have taken up the company of several couples who are eloping,” he admitted. “But I assure you that they have very good reasons. I had my own reservations, but I was persuaded that they were deserving of assistance.”
“No fortune hunters among them, I hope.”
“No, I made certain of that. Two of them are escaping some particularly vile circumstances. The third couple is quite independent with no obligations to anybody else. Just a desire to be married over the anvil.”
“An odd notion; however, I do see any reason to object to your companions. You strike me as the sort of man who would not sanction an elopement without good cause.”
“I never thought I would sanction one for any reason. This has been an unusual week for me.”
“May I enquire as to the reason for your own journey?”
“Not an elopement,” Mr. Darcy emphasized. “I am travelling with a young lady, but we are pursuing her sister, and her aunt and uncle have accompanied us.”
“Ah, you intended to stop an elopement.”
“Exactly.”
“Yet you have ended up assisting with three.”
Mr. Darcy blushed. “Two really. As I said, the third couple is at liberty to do as they please. They are long past the age of consent. By more than twenty years.”
Their new acquaintance frowned with puzzlement. “Then why are they going to Gretna Green?”
“Their reasons were romantic ones.”
“An unnecessary journey is not my idea of romantic.”
“Nor mine,” Mr. Darcy agreed.
“All that trouble and discomfort for no good reason.”
“Precisely my thoughts.”
“I think that we shall get along very well,” the young man said. He introduced himself as Mr. Seton, and was in turn introduced to Elizabeth, who joined them at that moment.
Mr. Darcy thought that she was looking more dejected this morning, but making another new friend seemed to cheer her, and she was also amused to learn of his circumstances.
“I should warn you,” the colonel mentioned now. “We are being pursued by our aunt, who has formed the mistaken impression that Darcy is eloping with Miss Bennet. He really is not, but there will probably be a scene when she catches up to us.”
“That sounds unpleasant for you,” Mr. Seton said sympathetically, “but I suppose she is not likely to take much notice of me.”
“You never know with Lady Catherine. Still, I expect you will be safely home before we encounter her.”
“There may be a disgruntled stepfather chasing us as well,” Elizabeth said.
“And there is almost certainly an angry uncle awaiting our arrival.”
“I have seen a few of those over the years,” Mr. Seton said nonchalantly. “One does not live in Gretna Green without becoming used to the sight of enraged relatives. Usually that is because they have arrived too late.”
“In this case, one is vexed about losing control of his niece’s fortune, and the other about losing an unpaid and overworked servant.” Mr. Darcy had just enough time to explain the circumstances of both young couples before the rest of the party came downstairs.
The cheerfulness of the previous evening had been replaced by a more sombre mood, especially among those four. Annabelle was particularly nervous again.
“I am certain that my uncle will already be there, waiting for me to arrive,” she said to Mr. Darcy. “How am I to escape him?”
“There are more of us,” he said reassuringly.
“Who knows what servants he has brought with him to secure me.”
“We will not let them get their hands upon you,” Margery declared.
“Certainly not,” George agreed.
“We should come up with a diversion,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “A runaway horse perhaps, and they could sneak into the forge while everybody is looking elsewhere. Disguises would be useful as well. Mr. Davenport could dress as a lady, and Miss Annabelle as a man.
“They could just use the rear entrance,” Mr. Seton said.
“Rear entrance?” echoed several voices as everybody looked at him.
“Yes. It should not be hard to slip unnoticed into the forge by the back way. I will take them there myself, and we shall approach the town by a lesser-used road.”
His offer of assistance was welcomed by all, especially the four most agitated members of their group.
“I think a diversion will also be useful,” he said. “We do not want anyone to come into the forge and stop the marriage.
“I think I know just the thing,” Mr. Darcy said. “As long as Miss Bennet does not mind pretending that we really are eloping.”
“You are planning to be fusty, I am guessing,” she said, smiling at him.
“Exactly.”
Since Mr. Seton was in charge of the route, he and the colonel took the lead of their procession in the phaeton. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, still in the curricle, took up the rear this time to keep a watch for any pursuit.
Upon renewing their enquiries at the first tollgate, they learned of yet another couple, who were only a slight distance ahead of them.
“I suppose it is too much to hope that this is Lydia and Mr. Wickham,” she said with the resignation of accepted failure, which had him concerned for a moment, but then cheerfulness resurged. “Or perhaps we will have to squeeze in another couple.”
“The more the merrier,” he said, echoing George, “but I hope for your sake that this is them and we can get everything settled quickly.”
Once again, however, the couple was not the one they sought. Instead, they encountered the scene of a foiled elopement. A little further up the ro
ad there were two stationary carriages, and a weeping young lady was being pulled from one of them by an older gentleman.
Mr. Darcy wondered what their circumstances were. Should his sympathies be with a young couple in love, or was this another father saving his daughter from a foolish choice? Or was it an abduction?
As the lady threw her arms about her rescuer, he thought that might well have been the case. His sympathy now went to the parent or guardian who must have had a harrowing journey.
That gentleman was not so charitable toward him, however. He looked their way and gave Mr. Darcy a stare of loathing and disgust.
“He appears to think that we are eloping,” Elizabeth observed. “I am sorry that you had to suffer such a stern look of censure on my account.”
“It is a trifling thing. The misperception is understandable, as well as the depth of his feeling. My pride can bear the slight. I just hope for the sake of his peace of mind that he does not guess how many eloping pairs are in our parade of carriages.”
“Perhaps he will think that we are on an outing. One supposes that the people who live in this area must sometimes organize exploring parties or picnics.”
“I feel as though we are on some sort of outing. A rather complicated one involving three weddings, and two angry relatives in pursuit.”
“Four weddings if you count Mr. Seton.”
“We cannot forget him. He brings a note of respectability to our party.” Mr. Darcy grinned for a moment, but then he sighed. “I should have said three relatives in pursuit. That look I just received was nothing compared to what my aunt will be planning to say to you. Even after I tell her that it is all a mistake, she will still be furious with you.”
“I can endure it,” she assured him. “I am just sorry that you will have to suffer her anger in consequence of helping me.”
“Whatever she says, I will not have any regrets.”
He had to stop himself from saying that he would do anything for her. He wanted her to know that was the case, but his was not the time for a declaration of his feelings. It was not that he cared how Lydia’s situation was resolved. That had ceased to concern him, but he wanted to choose a better moment for declaring himself.
It ought to be special, and he had an idea of somehow being romantic. If only he knew how. Since yesterday, that question been at the back of his mind.
CHAPTER 23
Gretna Green is a quiet place, particularly in winter when the cold and the snowdrifts make travelling inadvisable. In the summer, however, it is not uncommon for carriages to come dashing into the village and stop abruptly in front of the forge, disgorging young couples who rush inside and beg the blacksmith to marry them. Sometimes there is another carriage in close pursuit, and any villagers at hand watch the outcome of the race with great interest.
On this pleasantly warm morning, Annabelle’s uncle was standing in front of the forge, ready to seize upon her and force her into his carriage for the journey home. His presence had not gone unnoticed.
“Nae doubt, there’ll be a couple upon us soon enough,” the blacksmith observed to his assistant.
From her kitchen window, his wife was watching the scowling man and wondering what trouble was brewing.
Across the road, an elderly man kept glancing up while digging in his garden. “Aye, looks like we’ll be having a bit of entertainment this morning,” he said to the dog at his side.
Inside the forge, the blacksmith had an eye upon the hulking figure as he went about his work. There was a nice clear path to the anvil, and he was ready to drop his task and perform a ceremony at any moment; however, he did not favour the chances of the expected pair.
At that moment, they were sitting in a stationary carriage and waiting. The quiet little country road onto which Mr. Seton had directed them was anything but quiet that morning. Tensions had increased as they were delayed by a slow-moving farm cart, an even slower cow, and a gaggle of geese.
The last of these took an interminably long time to cross the road. Some dashed ahead only to dash back again, and others dawdled. They pecked at the grassy verge and in the dusty lane. Some of the bolder ones clustered around Colonel Fitzwilliam’s phaeton. Others eyed it nervously and held back from crossing at all. And all the while they honked.
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth got out of the curricle to observe the obstruction, and one goose stopped to fix a stern, beady eye upon him.
“I believe it disapproves of me,” he said slowly backing away.
“Perhaps it thinks we are eloping,” she said laughing.
Just outside the town, they separated into two groups. Mr. Seton transferred into George’s coach along with Annabelle and Mr. Davenport. It was his intention to direct them to a place where they could leave the carriage enter the blacksmith’s establishment by a rear door.
He sent the others by a different road. They were at the forge in a matter of minutes, and the uncle was easily spotted pacing back and forth in front of the wide, open doorway.
“Just as we expected,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is no surprise to see him again.”
He saw the wife, who was now sweeping the step, and the man in the garden, who was leaning upon his spade and watching their arrival with avid interest.
“It would appear that we have spectators,” he said with amusement.
“They add a nice note to the scene,” Elizabeth said.
“Which is about to be perfectly set, I hope,” he said as the Gardiners stopped their carriage in the best position to block any view through the doorway. He and his cousin stopped their carriages close by.
“Aye, she’s a bonnie one,” the old man called out as Elizabeth descended from the curricle. Mr. Darcy nodded in good-natured acknowledgement.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was loudly told, “Ye’ve forgotten yer lassie.” This was followed by cackling laughter and yipping from the dog.
“They share your sense of humour,” the colonel said to his cousin.
Annabelle’s uncle glared at them and did his best to block their way. “I should have guessed that you were also eloping,” he said with disgust. “I suspect you did help my niece to hide.”
“My private affairs are none of your concern,” Mr. Darcy said in his haughtiest voice. “On the subject of privacy, I expect you to stand elsewhere while we are being married. I have no desire for you to be a spectator at my wedding.”
Ignoring this demand, and pointing at the Gardiner’s carriage, the uncle shouted, “I bet you have her hidden in there.”
The blacksmith’s wife started making her way down the path, flicking the broom from side to side while watching this confrontation.
“You may see for yourself that we do not,” Mr. Gardiner said. He opened the door and stepped back, allowing the uncle to look inside as much as he liked. Even though there was obviously no Annabelle, he took his time peering into the corners and looking for secret compartments under the seats or a false bottom.
Meanwhile, the old man, deprived of his view, crossed the street with his dog and his spade, and took up a position on the pavement as though it was a natural thing to do.
The uncle gave up at last and pulled his head out of the chaise.
“I hope you do not make a habit of laying bets,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I do not think you have an aptitude for it. Now be away with you, or else I shall drag you off myself. And keep away until my cousin has concluded his business with the blacksmith.” He put on a menacing expression.
“Business,” the uncle scoffed, but he grudgingly moved a little way off.
The colonel stood on guard at the door while the other four went inside, where they gave the blacksmith a quick explanation of the multiple services which were required, and Mr. Darcy handed him a note, stressing the need for haste and stealth.
“I have a knack for haste,” he assured them, pocketing the money with a pleased expression which promised easy cooperation.
The rest of their group soon arrived, quietly coming through the r
ear door in accordance with the plan which was proceeding on schedule.
“These two first,” Mr. Darcy said, indicating Annabelle and Mr. Davenport.
For their benefit, he did not mention that her uncle was only a short distance away, but he gave a slight nod to Mr. Seton, who went to join Colonel Fitzwilliam in keeping guard.
The quick proceedings which were conducted in a quiet voice could hardly be called a ceremony, but the mood was a joyous one. With their friends ranged around the anvil and smiling upon the couple, they had no cause for dissatisfaction. There were no church bells, but the union was finalizing with the striking of the hammer on the anvil. As this sound rang out, Mr. Darcy looked anxiously toward the door.
Fortunately, the uncle did not take it as a cue to return, and the newly-married pair, now looking greatly relieved, as well as excessively happy, yielded their place to Clara and Edward.
In a few more minutes, they too were in the same state of relief and happiness. Unfortunately, it was short lived.
A cry of “Is that you in there, Clara?” sent her fleeing to hide in the back room. Edward hastily scrambled after her.
As a peevish-looking man came into view, Mr. Darcy quickly moved over to the anvil and beckoned for Elizabeth to join him.
“You are interrupting our wedding,” he said, using his arrogant voice again.
“You are taking a very long time about it,” the uncle shouted, returning to the fray.
Annabelle and Mr. Davenport backed up against the wall just as he reappeared in the doorway.
“We preferred the longer, more elaborate ceremony,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Popinjay,” was the unsurprising response to this.
“Is there anybody else here?” the stepfather dared to enquire.
He tried to advance further into the room, but the two guards blocked the way. The colonel then ordered both men to back away, and they disappeared from the sight of those in the room.
“Ye’ll be next then?” the blacksmith asked.
“No, not us,” Mr. Darcy said rather distractedly as he was still watching to see if there would be any more interference. “I intend to ask her father’s consent first, and then we shall have a church wedding.”
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