“Pardon me, Elizabeth!”
Dazed, Elizabeth said, “Wha... what happened?”
“I have no idea, but I aim to find out.” Despite the rain, Bingley opened the door to the coach, calling out, “What is the trouble?”
“A wagon has overturned and is blocking the road,” was the driver’s reply.
“I shall see if I can be of some assistance,” Bingley assured Elizabeth as he donned his hat and grabbed his great coat, pulling it on as he exited the vehicle.
Once the coach door was closed, Bingley was instantly knocked unconscious by a highwayman wielding a club. He had targeted Bingley after incapacitating the footman who rode on the back of the coach. The driver and under-driver were so focused on the problem ahead, that they knew nothing of what was transpiring, and as they climbed off the coach, a group of highwaymen, with guns drawn and wearing masks, came out of the woods to surround the coach. Taken completely by surprise, they could do naught but raise their hands in surrender when ordered to do so.
Hearing the command to surrender, Elizabeth became aware of the drama taking place just outside, but before she could think of what to do, the door swung open, and a man dressed in all black stuck his head inside. He wore a black cowl that covered everything but his eyes.
“Stay calm and no one will get hurt!” the miscreant declared.
Visible through the open door was Bingley’s body lying in the mud. The maid began to cry. Disregarding her own safety, Elizabeth tried to get past the man.
“What have you done to Mr. Bingley?” she demanded.
The thief restrained Elizabeth, motioning for his men to pick up Bingley. And, as they carried her future brother away, the blackguard addressed her concerns.
“He is not dead, nor will he die, as long as you cooperate. However, if you choose to be difficult, I cannot guarantee his safety or the safety of your servants. You decide, for all I need to accomplish my task is you. Do I kill all of the rest now for my convenience or let them live?”
The maid shrieked, causing Elizabeth’s hair to stand on end. Not given any choice, she acquiesced. “I will cooperate if you promise not to harm anyone.”
“You have my word. My master does not wish for you to be hurt, Mrs. Darcy. However, you are going to be his guest for a time, so I suggest that you try not to cause any trouble.”
Elizabeth had innumerable questions, but having made his statement, the man backed out of the door and slammed it shut. There was the sound of something being put upon the roof and afterward, she heard him shout more orders. In what seemed only a short time, the coach began to move again. They had not travelled very far before the coach turned sharply to the left. Not lost to her was the fact that they were no longer heading toward London.
In the corner, the young maid was still weeping steadily, so Elizabeth reached out to pat her arm. “Do not cry. All will be well. They will demand a ransom for my release, and then we shall be set free.”
The maid did not look convinced, but her tears did slow somewhat. For her part, Elizabeth began trying to calculate how far they were travelling in the new direction.
Where in the world can they be taking us? Her hand slid down to rest on her stomach. Please keep us all safe, Lord.
PEMBERLEY
Later that same day, Olivia visited Elizabeth’s study in the hope that Jane’s letter to her niece might have been left there. Though she despised invading anyone’s privacy, she felt it necessary in this case. Nonetheless, Jane’s letter was nowhere to be found, and Olivia was just about to admit failure and leave, when Mrs. O’Reilly opened the door. In her arms she carried several books.
“I was not aware that you were in here, Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” she said warmly. “Am I intruding?”
“Certainly not,” Olivia said, smiling. “I was just leaving. I see you are returning some books.”
“Yes, the mistress likes to keep several that interest her in the bookshelf behind her desk. In that way, she does not have to go downstairs to fetch them when she finds time to read. Invariably too many end up in her bedroom.” With a chuckle she set the books on Elizabeth’s desk. “I almost dropped a candle this morning on account of this one!”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“As I was going through the sitting room with only my candle and the light coming through the window to guide me, I happened to spy Mrs. Darcy’s favourite shawl lying on the chair next to Mr. Darcy’s bedroom. It is bright yellow and easily seen, so I decided to retrieve it. As I went to pick it up, I kicked this book and almost dropped the candle.”
“The book was on the floor?”
“Yes. I remember thinking it odd, for since Mr. Darcy’s injury, Mrs. Darcy never reads in the sitting room. There are just too many people coming in and out.”
Olivia’s brows knit. “Which book did you trip over?”
Mrs. O’Reilly held up the tome. “Lord Byron’s poetry.”
“And it was near my nephew’s bedroom door?”
“One would have had to step over it to go into his bedroom.” Mrs. O’Reilly replied. Then, noting the look on Olivia’s face, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing that I can be certain of,” Olivia said quickly. “I suppose I am just worried about my niece’s sudden departure.”
“I understand entirely. I had a bad feeling about her going to London without me.” Mrs. O’Reilly took a deep breath, letting it go noisily. “Oh well, there is nothing to be done about it now. The mistress asked me to visit the foundlings’ home while she is away, and I must hurry if I wish a ride into town. Mrs. Reynolds is sending a maid to Lambton with food for a friend, so I shall accompany her.
“When you return, will you let me know how everyone is faring?”
“I shall be pleased to do so.”
AT THE SAME TIME
Mrs. Reynolds was walking across the foyer when a knock at the front door sent her scurrying in that direction. As she approached, an express rider, bearing a large package was speaking to the footman who normally stood at the door. Accepting the bundle, she realised it was for Mr. Darcy from Mr. Curry, the Darcys’ long-time portrait artist. A knowing smile crossed her face.
The sketches of Mrs. Darcy in her wedding gown! Maybe this will help him to remember.
As she approached William’s study, she found Richard standing in the doorway. His back was to her, and he was speaking to his cousin. Suddenly, he turned and seeing her, reached for the package.
“Here let me help you with that, Mrs. Reynolds.” Carrying it into the study, he added, “My word, this is lighter than I thought it would be. What is it?”
By then, William, who was equally curious, had stood. His expression grew more puzzled with Mrs. Reynolds’ answer.
“I believe they are drawings from Mr. Curry.” Then she said to William, “You were expecting them, sir.”
“Curry?” Richard interjected. “Is that not the artist who paints your family’s portraits?”
“Yes. He has done all of our portraits since I was a child, but I cannot fathom what he has sent.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but when you first returned from London, you said that he had sketched Mrs. Darcy in her wedding gown and that you expected the preliminary drawings to be delivered in a few weeks.”
William’s brows knit, though he made no attempt to take or open the bundle. Growing impatient, Richard said, “Well, are you going to open this package, or are we just to guess what it contains?”
Immediately, William began to clear his desk, and Richard set the package down there. Then the colonel took a knife from his boot and cut the numerous strings that bound the thick brown wrapping paper, before stepping aside to let his cousin do the rest. William removed layer after layer of paper and quilted batting, and when finished, at his fingertips were three poses of Elizabeth—a vision of loveliness sketched in coloured pencil. 17
“My, my,” said Mrs. Reynolds, who moved closer to get a look. “I have never seen a lovelier bride.”
Richard, as was his inclination, was more enthusiastic. “Good heavens! What an excellent rendering of Mrs. Darcy! He has captured her perfectly.”
William picked up the top drawing and stared at it tongue-tied. Seeing his discomposure, Richard’s eyes met the housekeeper’s, and he winked. This caused her to smile.
“I really should return to my duties,” she said at last. And in no time at all, the cousins were alone again.
“Darcy?”
“Hmmm,” William mumbled distractedly.
“Tell me what you are thinking?”
“I remember Elizabeth like this. She looked so very beautiful when she came down the aisle of the church that she literally took my breath away.”
“Which church, Darcy?” Richard said, urging him on.
“The little white church at Meryton.”
Richard continued prodding his memory. “Were the sketches done there... in Meryton?”
“No. Curry came to Darcy House.”
“What do you remember about that day?”
“I... I remember trying to persuade Elizabeth to postpone the sitting because she had fainted earlier in the day.”
“What had caused her to faint?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “She had stood all morning for the modiste to take measurements and suggest fabrics. When she fainted, Mrs. Barnes pointed out that, by her own admission, Elizabeth had nothing to eat all day. And, she said that most likely my wife had not eaten much the previous day—which was our wedding day.”
“Mrs. Barnes is a wise woman.”
“She is. Except for her intervention, I would have sent for Mr. Graham to examine Elizabeth immediately. I was very frightened.”
“You? Frightened? Whatever for?” Richard prodded.
“I feared for her because I was so in love, and I thought I had pushed her too hard,” he whispered.
Richard walked over to grip his shoulder. “I knew that, given time, you would remember.”
Shaken to the core at his recollections, William sank into his desk chair. “There is more that I have not had the opportunity to tell you. Vivid scenes—recurring images, if you will—took control of my mind last night. What is more, I remember what I dreamt, which is rare. Normally, I do not remember any dreams.”
“In all likelihood, your lost memories are surfacing while you sleep. Can you tell me what they were about?”
William sighed. “I suppose nothing is too personal if it will help me to remember, however, the meanings of the images in my dreams are unclear. For instance, in one I am at my mother’s cottage, and I had opened the closet door to search the drawers of a chest inside there. Obviously, I am looking for something, but the dream always ends before I can remember what that may be. In another, I am wading in a shallow body of water, boots and all.” William threw up his hands as though he had no idea what to make of it. “You, of all people, know that is not my nature. Then, from behind, someone begins splashing water on me. I know it is a woman, for I can hear her laughter, but when I turn to her, the dream ends.” He was silent for a moment. “It could easily have been Georgiana when she was a young girl.”
“But you believe it is Elizabeth, do you not?”
“I remember feeling incandescently happy and deeply in love with whomever it was. Could this be my mind playing tricks?”
“I think not! You have never mentioned more than three or four dreams that made enough of an impact that you felt it necessary to share them with me. May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“If you did wade in the water in your boots, your valet should remember. Why not ask Adams? You might also go to your mother’s cottage and see if that sparks any recollections.”
“Will you accompany me? Now that Graham has returned to Town, Camryn agrees with him that I should not ride just yet.”
“But, of course, you intend to ride as usual.”
“I will when the need arises. If you accompany me and Camryn learns of it, it may pacify him to know that I was not alone.”
“You can count on me, Darcy. Speaking of which, do you still wish to confront Georgiana tomorrow?”
“Yes. Tonight I shall warn my aunt and uncle that Georgiana’s attitude could worsen after we talk to her. Then after we have eaten in the morning, we shall confront her. I do not relish talking to her on an empty stomach.”
“My thoughts exactly. I am at your service. Just let me know when you wish to go to the cottage.”
“Thank you, Richard. Have I said lately how much I appreciate our friendship and your consistent support?”
“That is not necessary, Cousin, for I know you do.”
AFTER VIEWING THE DRAWINGS and remembering the circumstances that surrounded them, William went to enquire of Adams if he had ever returned home with soaked boots. Adams allowed that he had indeed returned once after a picnic with his clothes and his boots wet. With mounting evidence that his dreams were actually memories, he found himself standing at the door to Elizabeth’s bedroom. When he entered the quietness of her private sanctuary, the purpose of his intrusion became clear.
Perhaps something in here will prompt more memories.
For a long moment, he stood motionless, his eyes searching every inch of the bedroom for clues. Spying a small mahogany chest atop a dresser, he walked in that direction. Opening the box, he found two yellow flowers pressed between sheets of fine paper that were lying on top. Immediately, an image of Elizabeth wearing these flowers in her hair came to mind. The flowers at the pond! I made a ring of them for a crown.
Buoyant at that discovery, he laid the flowers aside to examine the rest of the box. A drawer at the bottom had not fully closed, so he pulled it open. Inside were several pressed flowers, some perhaps from years past. One in particular caught his eye though—a single white rose with a white ribbon. He smiled. Her wedding bouquet!
Expectantly, he went back to the main section again, finding some letters from Elizabeth’s family tied with string. However, it was what lay beneath them that served as the catalyst to remind him of the love that he had once shared with Elizabeth.
Her ring!
His heartbeat quickened as he reached for the familiar velvet box. Inside it he found only the receipt: Blanchard’s Jewellery – Gold wedding band, 18ct, engraved “First. Last. Only. Always.” With four 1ct diamonds embedded between each word. Inscribe inside of band with April 28, 1812. One thousand pounds.
Tears pooled in his eyes. Oh Elizabeth, my love, how I failed you! I should have remembered this, if nothing else. It is a miracle that you stayed after I awoke with no memories of us. Who could blame you for wanting to leave?
Frantically, he searched the rest of the box, though all that was there was were more letters, an inexpensive ring with a matching brooch, a garnet necklace that he remembered her wearing at Netherfield and the pebbles she had collected at the pond.
Immediately, he checked the rest of the drawers in the dresser and those in a chest nearby. Finding nothing to indicate that she left for any reason other than her aunt’s health, he was about to give up, when he spied her closet.
Opening the closet door, he scanned it until he discovered the small satchel she had carried to London lying on the floor at one end. Picking it up, its lightness established at once that it was empty. However, there was a book lying on the floor beneath it, so he stooped to pick it up. Realising straightaway that it was a diary, he debated opening it, but upon spying a letter stuck between the pages, he pulled the missive free. His first name was written on it, so he sat down on the side of the bed to read.
My husband,
Now that I know how foolish I have been, my heart is broken. Only after Colonel Fitzwilliam revealed your true character on the trip to Pemberley did I realise how blind I had been to your worth and to my true feelings. Raised with better judgement, I allowed pride to overrule common sense and kept my own poor counsel.
Why would I do such a thing, you might ask? It is simple.
My feelings were hurt when you began to avoid me at Netherfield. From that point on, I was inclined to think ill of you, no matter how many people sang your praises. Then, after seeing your kiss with Lady Susan in the garden and overhearing a conversation between you and Colonel Fitzwilliam, any restraint that I might have had was lost. I accused you of the most grievous of crimes—ruining maidens and fathering innocent children, in addition to being cruel to your cousin. Even now, I shudder to recall my hurtful words.
My heart cries out to make things right between us, but I fear that it is too late. If I mail this letter and you reject my apology, which you have every right to do, it would be more than I could bear. So, I shall not send it. Instead, I shall keep it as a reminder of my failings and my vow to be the best mistress possible for Pemberley and all your homes. Hopefully, one day you can forgive me and once more desire me as your wife in every sense of the word.
I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at Netherfield, and I know now that I will always love you.
Your wife,
Elizabeth
TEARS ROLLED FROM THE corners of his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away. He was still staring at the letter when his aunt peeked inside the still-open door.
“Fitzwilliam, I hate to bother you, but I must speak with you now.”
William tried to put on a smile as he refolded the letter and placed it back into the diary, laying the book on the table by the bed. “Certainly. Shall we speak in here?”
His discomposure was not lost on his aunt. “Clearly, I have intruded because you are upset, but I cannot leave without knowing that you are well.”
William heaved a sigh. It was impossible to keep a secret from his aunt. “I... I found this letter in Elizabeth’s diary. I did not want to invade her privacy, so I did not read the diary, however, this letter was addressed to me, so I felt that it was not improper to read it.”
Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple Page 72