Follies and Vices

by Emily Russell

  They finally reached the bottom. Elizabeth made a show of wincing and examining her hands with concern as if she had never touched stone in her life. The woman smirked with satisfaction. She pointed to a pile of clothes left beside the river.

  “You will clean these,” she said. “You will beat them against the rocks and scour them, and then you will carry them back to the top. I will be watching from the house so if you try to escape, you will be sorry. Not that you’d survive, anyway. You’d die from the elements before you had walked half an hour. Now, get on with it.”

  Elizabeth glanced up the rock face. It reminded her of a particular face of Oakham Mount near Longbourn. She had challenged herself to climb it one summer. Granted, she had worn half-boots, not flimsy slippers, but she had scaled it so many times, she knew where to place her feet and hands and how to balance herself. Climbing these steps would not be a problem.

  “I should surely fall with all these clothes in my arms,” she said in a tone of great concern.

  The old woman shrugged though she barely hid a smile.

  “I would advise you not to do that,” she said. She turned back to the steps and climbed them. Elizabeth noted she struggled with them much more than she had done. She smiled to herself then turned with resignation toward the pile of clothing.

  The sun rose higher overhead as she worked. Her hands were raw as she scrubbed the piles against the rocks. She stopped and leaned back on her heels to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then pooled the water in her hands and drank it before splashing the rest over her face. As she worked, she looked about her, taking careful note of her surroundings. The foliage was thick, but the edges of the stream were narrow. Elizabeth wondered if there was a way out if she followed that path.

  But how would she get Darcy down here? The old woman was unlikely to demand Darcy help with the laundry and Elizabeth would not leave without him. The thought that the thieves only needed him alive and not necessarily well made her go cold inside. No, much as she had always disliked Mr Darcy, he had risked himself to save her, and she would not leave without him. They would escape together, or she would not leave at all.

  The sound of falling stones caused Elizabeth to jump up and look around, searching for the source. Her heart hammered when she saw the bottom half of a man’s legs descending the steps toward her. He emerged around the outcrop of rock and Elizabeth gasped when she saw him. She gripped the sheet in her hand, momentarily imagining using it to strangle the man before her.

  “Wickham.”

  She glared at him as he walked down to the water’s edge. He observed her work with minimal interest then rubbed his jaw and leaned back against a rock to watch her, stretching his legs out before him.

  Furious as she was, Elizabeth somehow knew he was not a threat to her. She turned her back on him and gathered up the last of the sheets and folded them.

  “Do you have a reason for being here?” she demanded.

  “I came to help you back up the steps,” he replied. “I do not want you to break your neck.”

  “Are you not the gallant.”

  “Miss Bennet —“

  “Where is Mr Darcy?” she said. “Is he still in the room?”

  Wickham nodded.

  “We have given him a pen and paper. He is writing his ransom note.”

  Elizabeth scoffed though her heart felt light with relief. She had been afraid they had sent her down here to keep her out of the way while they hurt him.

  “And you will read it to be sure he does not dare say anything that might lead to our rescue.”

  Wickham made to help her with the laundry, but Elizabeth turned away to keep it out of his reach. He shrugged.

  “Of course.”

  Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and looked at him carefully.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “To get the money from —“

  “No, this. All of this. Why were you stealing from Mr Bingley? What do you owe these men that would drive you to commit such deeds?”

  Wickham smiled. “Who says I have been driven there? Perhaps I have been there all along.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I am not Lydia or Kitty. Such talk will not make you seem more interesting to me.” She eyed him for a moment, then hastily put the laundry on the ground. She gripped his arm. “Come, I know you. You are not a bad man. Even if you were stealing from Mr Bingley, you are not bad in the way these men are. You would not allow them to hurt me. If it were not for you, who knows what they might have done to me when I discovered you.”

  Wickham stared down to where her hand touched his arm. He took a deep breath. Elizabeth’s heart pounded as she searched his eyes, eager to see some softening there that told her she was getting through to him. He stood back, so her hand dropped to her side.

  “If it were not for you, none of this would have happened in the first place,” he snapped. “All would have worked out, and you and Darcy would have been none the wiser. I would have repaid my debt, and I would have been finished with Shaw. I would have been free to do my best in the militia and rise through the ranks and lead a respectable life. But you had to find us, and now all I can do is hope Darcy’s uncle pays up. Because if he does not, it is not just my neck on the line, Miss Bennet. These men all have no more use for all three of us.” He paced away from her as Elizabeth stared at him in horror. He whirled back around, his eyes flashing with fury. “Why did you have to be there?” he demanded. “Why were you not at the ball? Come, are you really engaged to Darcy? I know how you feel about him. We spoke of him only a week ago, and now you are to be his wife?”

  Elizabeth raised her chin.

  “We are to marry,” she said. Considering the effect this would have on her reputation if they got out of it alive, she suspected it was not exactly a lie. But she would not think of that right now. “I left the ball to meet him. There is little point in blaming me for interrupting a plan that should not have been taking place.”

  Wickham strode back toward her, gritting his teeth. Elizabeth felt a flash of fear at the rage in his eyes, but she would not allow herself to show it by stepping back. She swallowed but kept her eyes on his.

  “We were almost done,” he said. “Only another half an hour and we would have had enough. This is all your fault. You and your wandering. You are fortunate I helped you as much as I have considering how much you have cost me.”

  With that, Wickham grabbed the pile of laundry and started for the steps. Elizabeth stared after him for a moment before climbing after him.

  Chapter 14

  “What did you tell your uncle?” Elizabeth lay in the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. Only a few days before, she would have blushed to recline so in a man’s presence but there was little point in modesty anymore.

  Darcy sat on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall.

  “I begged him to arrange for ten thousand in banknotes to be left at a place they left blank to fill in themselves.”

  “Do you think he will respond?” Elizabeth tried not to think of Wickham’s words at the stream, about what they would do if they did not receive the money.

  Darcy rubbed his face.

  “I hope so. I enclosed my father’s ring so he would know I sent it.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “And did you mention me?”

  “I did. I told him I had been honoured with your acceptance of my hand, and as his future niece, he should provide enough for both of us.”

  Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “I wonder what he shall make of that. He will have never heard of me in his life, and now I am to be his niece. I wonder if he will think the letter is a trick.”

  Darcy did not respond for a moment. There was a tension in his silence that made Elizabeth lean up on her elbow to look at him.

  “What is it?”

  “He has heard of you.”

  Elizabeth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My uncle has heard of you. I wr
ote to him while I stayed in Hertfordshire and I might have mentioned you in one of my letters.”

  Elizabeth lay down again and laced her hands across her stomach.

  “I suppose that makes sense. I did stay under the same roof for a few days. Almost a week.”

  Again, Darcy was silent. When he spoke again, it was to ask her to repeat her description of the area around the stream. He was much calmer now. When Elizabeth had returned to the room earlier, Darcy had jumped up and caught her to him with a concern that would have convinced the most sceptical person that he cared for her enough to marry her. Elizabeth had been impressed by his devotion to his performance in front of the thieves and had not resisted when he held her as he looked her over and asked her if she was well. She had been rather touched by his concern, and though she knew it was an act, she felt a little flustered.

  They spoke for some time until they eventually fell asleep. When Elizabeth woke during the night, she leaned over the side of the bed to see Darcy lying on the floor beside her. His head rested on his arm, but he could not possibly have been comfortable. She tiptoed out of bed and retrieved his coat from the chair. She also took the pillow from the bed. She still had a mattress which was more comfortable than a rough wooden floor. She knelt beside Darcy and gently lifted his head, trying her best not to wake him.

  As she slipped the pillow under Darcy’s head, his eyes opened at once. Before Elizabeth knew what was happening, he had grabbed her and pinned her beneath him. She cried out before she could stop herself. The fury in Darcy’s eyes vanished at once, and his expression cleared.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said. “Oh, god, I am sorry. What were you doing?”

  “Trying to make you more comfortable,” said Elizabeth. Her heart pounded furiously, and she almost wanted to lash out at him for frightening her like that.

  Darcy sighed. “I thought you were one of them.”

  “I think I have proven I am not.”

  The two of them remained where they were, Darcy half on top of Elizabeth as he looked down at her. Elizabeth knew she should tell him to move, but she could not. Something about the way he held her made her heart race even though she knew she should push him away. If he did not release her in another moment, she should ask him, but surely he would do it himself and not require it of her.

  The moonlight lit up the hard plains of his face. His eyes gleamed in the dark.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said. His voice was gruff.

  The door crashed open, making them spring apart. Darcy was on his feet in a moment, standing between Elizabeth and Shaw and Jameson.

  They glanced behind him as Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet, arranging her stained gown. Shaw raised an eyebrow.

  “I thought you were a gentleman, Darcy. I did not see you as the sort to anticipate your wedding vows although I suppose there is no point in holding back now, is there? Unless the lady objects —“

  He looked behind Darcy, who held out his arm as if to add another barrier between him and Elizabeth. Elizabeth instinctively gripped it.

  “Miss Bennet, if your betrothed is bothering you, I am sure we can arrange other accommodations for you.” Jameson sniggered.

  “Please leave us,” she said, trying to make her voice sound strong. Shaw raised an eyebrow.

  “And here I took you for a lady,” he said. Elizabeth felt her face burn, but she gripped Darcy’s arm harder when she felt him take a threatening step toward the men. “Well, we shall leave you. Perhaps if a brat results, we might increase the amount your uncle will pay us. But no more noise.”

  The men left the room. Elizabeth waited until she was sure they had gone before releasing Darcy’s arm. She sank on the bed and buried her face in her hands.

  “Miss Bennet —“

  She felt Darcy tentatively touch her hands, and she removed them so he could see her. He crouched before her. In the moonlight, his eyes were filled with concern.

  “Do not allow them to upset you,” he whispered.

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

  “They are vile. Utterly vile. When we get out of this terrible situation…”

  “I am sure we can think of many things we would do to them,” said Darcy with a gentle smile. “They seek to rattle us. They know the more unnerved we are, the more it will damage our spirits and the easier we will be to manage. Think of it as a game and nothing more.”

  Elizabeth drew a deep, shaky breath.

  “I am trying, but — but my family. I cannot stop thinking of what this will do to them. They will be devastated. My father, especially. He will be out of his mind with worry when he hears of the note.”

  Try as she might, Elizabeth could not prevent her eyes from filling with tears. She turned her head away to hide them, but Darcy rose to sit on the bed beside her and gather her into his arms. She pulled away only for a moment, but unable to resist the comfort she craved, she turned into his arms and buried her face against his chest as she cried as quietly as she could. Darcy held her and gently rocked her back and forth, murmuring soothing words as she did. Her tears finally subsided, but she continued to lie against him, and he seemed in no hurry to push her away. He sat with his back against the wall, Elizabeth curled almost on his lap as they talked about their families in low voices.

  “My poor sister will certainly be concerned,” he said softly as he stroked Elizabeth’s arm in a comforting gesture. “She is so young; only sixteen. I am all she has. I hope we are recovered before she hears of it. Who knows what the next few days will bring. Perhaps we shall be free.”

  “What of your parents,” Elizabeth asked. She felt a comfortable drowsiness as she rested against him. Propriety be damned; there were no rules for such a situation, and she would do whatever she needed to help her and Darcy through it no matter how much it might scandalise society if they knew of it.

  Darcy was silent for a moment though his strong hand rubbing circles over her back told her he was still awake though his voice grew deeper and more growly as sleep started to weigh down on him.

  “My mother died a long time ago. Georgiana was only three years old, and I was fifteen. She died in childbirth with what would have been a little brother for Georgie and I. My father grieved her for the rest of his life. He died eight years ago. I do not believe he ever looked at another woman.”

  “I am sorry,” said Elizabeth. She nestled closer, feeling his pain and wanting to comfort him. “They sound like they loved one another very much. You had an excellent example of marriage before you.”

  “And you did not?”

  Elizabeth gave a low laugh. “I wish I could say I did. My mother’s beauty and high spirits captivated my father. He knew little of her before he proposed, and she accepted at once. And once they wed, he discovered she was empty-headed and easily upset. It was a great disappointment to him. Sadly for us, he has never attempted to hide his disdain for her. He delights in making sport of her. He is not the sort of man to find comfort elsewhere, or in a bottle, so I suppose it is not the worst situation, but it is one I could not endure. Perhaps if he had taken his time to know her first, he might have made a different choice.”

  Darcy absent-mindedly played with one of Elizabeth’s loose curls. In her sleepy mind, she was glad she had washed that day while she could.

  “It is hard to find the right person,” he said in a drowsy voice. “One meets someone at a ball or a dinner or the park, and they can exchange a few words, always in the company of others. And based on that, society expects them to make the most important decision of their lives and one they must abide by all their days. Perhaps if young people had the chance to see one another in different situations before committing, they might know if they could be happy together.”

  Darcy could hardly keep his eyes open. As he waited for Elizabeth to respond, he realised she felt slightly heavier in his arms. Her breathing was deeper and slower. He smiled. He had succeeded in taking her mind from their present situation, and she might sleep now her first real sleep
in several days. His own eyes grew heavier, and he hardly noticed as his head rested against Elizabeth’s.

  Chapter 15

  The first thing Elizabeth noticed was that her pillow had a curious way of rising and falling. Something about it reassured her. She murmured still half asleep and nestled even closer into it. Something heavy and warm lay across her, holding her close and making her feel a deep glow of contentment she had never felt before. All felt right with the world.

  A thumping sound forced her to feel wide awake at once. She bolted upright to see Kenneth and Wickham standing in the doorway, observing the scene before them. Kenneth had a wide grin on his face while Wickham's jaw twitched. His eyes travelled passed her. Elizabeth turned to see where he looked. She started when she saw Darcy sitting up, his eyes already alert.

  Darcy! She had spent the night sleeping on Mr Darcy. She looked down and saw her legs were still entwined through his. Her face burned. She eased herself away, trying to disentangle herself from him without calling attention to the fact that she was doing it.

  "What do you want?" demanded Darcy. He shifted to put himself before Elizabeth, shielding her from their sights.

  Kenneth smiled. "We had a discussion last night and came to a conclusion. I am afraid we are not satisfied that your uncle will pay for your betrothed as well as you. Miss Bennet, I will have to ask you to come with us."

  Darcy swept out his arm to block Elizabeth.

  "She will go nowhere with you. She stays with me."