Follies and Vices

by Emily Russell

  Elizabeth tried to hide her terror, but she fixed her eyes on Wickham, searching for some hidden depth of decency that might encourage him to step in. He stared at the floor, refusing to meet their eyes. Whatever was about to happen, he was not happy about it, and that chilled her more than anything else might have done.

  Shaw strolled into the room and took in the sight of them on the bed together. He observed them in silence for a moment before turning to Kenneth.

  "What's the delay?" he demanded. "We don't have all day. Get a move on."

  Darcy stood up.

  "Miss Bennet is not going anywhere. She is staying with me." His hands clenched into fists at his side as though he would like nothing more than to tear the men apart.

  Shaw shrugged. "I am afraid that is not possible. You see, we all agree as your betrothed, Miss Bennet has little value to your uncle. You are not yet married, so it is of little loss to him. We have made more lucrative arrangements."

  "I am not —" said Elizabeth in a fury. She stopped when Kenneth and Jameson produced guns and aimed them both at Darcy. Darcy took a step toward them, almost trembling with pent up rage. The two men raised their weapons. Elizabeth darted past Darcy before he could stop her.

  "Elizabeth —"

  "Do not hurt him," she said. "I will go with you." She looked at Wickham, willing him to meet her eyes. Surely she would find some sympathy there? But he folded his arms and looked so determinedly out the window, Elizabeth longed to shout at him to do something.

  Shaw beamed.

  "Excellent choice, Miss Bennet. See, Mr Darcy? You could learn a lot from your fellow captive. Come, my dear."

  Darcy took another step forward, and Elizabeth whirled around as she heard the guns click.

  "Darcy, do nothing stupid," she said. "I am sure I will be fine. Your uncle will send the money, and you will be safe. Do not worry about me."

  Darcy swallowed, and though his fists were clenched, his eyes were distraught as he looked at her.

  "Elizabeth, do not —"

  Elizabeth could not look at him a moment longer. She left the room ahead of the men and hurried down the passage so she would not have to hear his distress.

  "What will you do with me?" she asked Wickham quietly as he walked by her side. He gave her a long look, then veered away as though it was more than he could endure.

  Elizabeth clutched the folds of her tattered ballgown to prevent her hands from trembling as they led her out into the bright clearing. Her heart was in her mouth, and though she tried to draw a deep breath to calm herself, the weight on her chest prevented her from doing so. She could only make a small, gasping sound which she quickly suppressed so as not to give them the satisfaction of seeing how terrified she was.

  The men gestured toward the cliff path she had descended yesterday to do the laundry. So, that was where they planned to do it. Her mind felt dizzy as she climbed down. A few times, she had to stop and grip the rocks to recover herself when she felt as though she might slip.

  "Come on, come on. We want to get on with it," muttered Kenneth. Elizabeth forced herself to keep going though her head was light with fear. She tried to calm herself by looking around the various paths she had noticed the day before. Perhaps she might escape through one of them? There was still a possibility. But the way Kenneth watched her left her in no doubt she would not hesitate to stop her if she tried to run. Elizabeth reminded herself she would rather run while trying to escape than sitting there like a fox waiting for a hound. Once she reached the bottom, she would distract him and make a run for it. If he caught her, so be it, but she would at least know she tried to help herself.

  "Right," said Kenneth briskly when they reached the bottom. He pointed toward a little bundle of clothing on a rock, then gestured toward the river. "Fix yourself up. Wash, put on the new gown there, do — something — with your hair. I have no idea what. Come on. The day is not growing any younger."

  Elizabeth stared at the bundle on the ground, then back to Kenneth. It took a moment for his words to rearrange themselves in her mind to form some sense. She stepped toward them then stopped and looked back at him.

  "I am sorry?" she said.

  Kenneth looked uncomfortable as he eyed the pile of clothing. "I do not know. Those are my instructions. That you should look well. I don't know what's required. Just clean up and —" he circled his hand vaguely near his head to suggest curls, "— do that with your hair, so you look presentable."

  Elizabeth shivered and wrapped her arms about herself. "Who am I to look presentable for?" she demanded.

  Kenneth did not answer. He took a seat on a rock and turned the other way, making a show of giving her privacy.

  "Don't run," he warned. "Not that there's anywhere for you to go, anyway. The paths here only lead to more steep drops." He cocked his head. "Are you dressing?"

  Elizabeth had no choice but to obey. She went to the water's edge and washed as best she could without removing her clothing.

  "There's soap there," called Kenneth. Elizabeth watched him, then dashed out of the water to grab the bar before ducking back under the water so he would not see her in the flimsy gown. She lathered the soap and washed her hair, then tipped her head back to rinse it.

  The whole time, her heart pounded. Why were they so keen for her to look presentable? Her mind went to Jameson and his request that he have her the first night. They were not about to make a gift of her to him, were they? Elizabeth had already decided that would not happen. If he attempted to touch her, she would kill him, and she would not care about the consequences. As she washed, she touched a small, sharp stone with her foot. She winced and moved away, then leaned closer to look at it. It could have gone through her foot if she had stood on it. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Kenneth was not watching her, then picked it up and tucked it into her bodice.

  There was a rough towel there, and Elizabeth used it to dry herself. The new gown was next. Elizabeth laid it on a rock to examine it. It was pretty enough, perhaps a little dated and would be too large for her, but it would not look awful on her. She hid behind the rock and dressed as quickly as she could, still not trusting Kenneth not to turn around. She reached behind for the buttons. There was a row of them, and she could just about reach them if she twisted and turned enough. She certainly was not about to go to Kenneth and ask for his help.

  When she was dressed, she stepped out from behind the rock. Without looking at Kenneth, she gathered her old ballgown in a bundle, her heart aching when she thought of buying the material in London with her beloved Aunt Gardiner.

  When she looked up, Kenneth was watching her. She shrank back against his stare at first, but something caught her. He was not looking at her with that cold hunger she had sometimes seen in Jameson or even Shaw's eyes. There was none of that glow she saw in Wickham's. Instead, his look was merely assessing, as if trying to decide whether he was happy with her appearance.

  "You will do," he said finally.

  Elizabeth swallowed. "Do for what?"

  He did not respond. He looked at her hair, which was slowly drying into little curls that framed her face.

  "You should probably do something with that."

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth.

  "Who am I meant to please? What does my appearance matter?"

  Kenneth gave her a serious look. "It will be better for you if you look as well as you can. Please, do it."

  Elizabeth shuddered and moved away from him. As she did, she pressed her hand to her bodice, where she felt the reassuring weight of the stone. It might not help her in a dangerous situation, but it would provide her with some small way to defend herself. At the very least, it meant she was not entirely powerless. She took the few pins remaining in her hair and pinned her curls back as well as she could. She had never done her own hair before, always having a maid to hand, so most of it fell loosely over her back. But at least it was back from her face and would have to do. It was not as though she cared how she looked fo
r any plan they had in mind for her.

  Elizabeth emerged again to let Kenneth see her, though her blood boiled as he examined her. He nodded.

  "I suppose it is the best we can do considering what we have at our disposal," he said. "Come, gather your things."

  "Where are we going?"

  "It would be better if you did not ask so many questions. You'll find out soon enough."

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth watched him as he waited for her to pass him on the steps. She moved ahead of him and once again pressed her hand to her bodice to feel the stone. Whoever they would give her to would have a nasty surprise waiting for them.

  Shaw and Jameson sat outside the house with their legs stretched out before them. They looked Elizabeth up and down with appreciative stares that made Elizabeth’s stomach turn. The old woman had come outside, and she glared at Elizabeth with pinched lips as though the sight of her clean and in a new dress offended her. Elizabeth ignored her. She fixed her gaze on the two men.

  “Where is Mr Darcy?”

  “She does look well, doesn’t she? Seems a shame to give her away,” said Shaw with a resigned sigh. Elizabeth went cold.

  “Where is he?” she repeated.

  Instead of responding, Shaw jumped up and took her by the arm. Elizabeth struggled to get away from him and lashed out at him. He ducked and managed to avoid her blow, but he caught her wrist before she could hit him again.

  “I would advise you not to do that, Miss Bennet,” he said in a low voice. “It will go better for you if you do not. Now, come with me.”

  Elizabeth had no choice but to allow him to pull her into the house. The only comfort she could take was that for now at least, she was still close to Darcy. Shaw pulled her into a room she had never been in before. For a dreadful moment, Elizabeth feared it was his bedroom until she saw it was a plain room with a few chairs and a table. Her trembling subsided slightly until she was aware they were not alone.

  Another man sat on one of the chairs. He rose when she came in and looked at Elizabeth nervously.

  “Is this her?”

  “No, Thomas, this is my mother,” said Shaw, pushing Elizabeth toward the table. “Of course this is her.”

  The man looked at her apprehensively and licked his lips. Elizabeth’s imagination went wild, terrified of who this man might be and what plans he might have in store for her. The man clutched something small in his hand, but in the gloom, she could not see what it was.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she asked.

  Her question was interrupted by a crashing sound, followed by an angry yell. She turned around, her spirits lifting. Darcy.

  She heard voices shouting, then silence. Elizabeth put her hand to her mouth, feeling certain they must have injured him in some way when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps at the door. The door opened, and Darcy entered.

  He stopped when he saw Elizabeth. Elizabeth was so relieved to see him, her legs trembled and threatened to buckle beneath her. He was there, and he was unharmed.

  “Elizabeth,” he said, striding toward her and pulling her into him. “Are you well? They did not hurt you?” He held her face in his hands and looked her over, taking in every inch of her.

  “I am well,” she said. It was astonishing how much comfort she could take in a man she had always disliked in a moment like this. “They just brought me to bathe and change my clothing.”

  “Bathe?” Darcy’s eyes hardened.

  “It was all quite proper, I assure you,” said Shaw. “If anyone can be trusted alone with a woman in a situation like that, it is Kenneth. You will have your turn later, Mr Darcy. But for now, we have a certain matter to complete.”

  He nodded toward the strange man who eyed them both as though terrified.

  “I do not think this is a good idea,” he stammered.

  “I will tell you what a good idea is, and I am telling you this is. Unless you would like to hear of my other good ideas for what I will do to someone who crosses me?” suggested Shaw.

  Darcy wrapped his arm around Elizabeth and glared at them.

  “What are you doing? Who is this man?”

  Shaw beamed at him and clapped his hands together.

  “We are about to have a wedding. Is that not wonderful? A wedding in the middle of the woods. Miss Bennet’s friends will swoon with envy.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was so shocked she could hardly get the words out. Darcy gripped her tighter.

  Shaw spread his hands. “It is of little matter to you. You are engaged anyway. We are merely bringing the day forward by a few weeks. You see, we suspect the earl will be more willing to pay for Mrs Darcy than he will for Miss Bennet. The reverend here will sign the marriage certificate, and we will send it off with your letter. And you can start your life as man and wife earlier than you expected — why, Miss Bennet, you look pale. Why are you not jumping for joy?”

  “Do not be a fool, Shaw,” said Darcy. “We cannot marry like this. It would not be legal. We have no licence, and no banns have been called. My uncle will not recognise it.”

  Shaw waved his hand away. “He will not know any of that. All he will see is a marriage certificate. He will not risk losing his niece by marriage and potentially the future heir to Pemberley. One little ceremony will increase Miss Bennet’s value exponentially.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. Shaw sighed.

  “You are of little use to us just as Mr Darcy’s betrothed. If you do not become Mrs Darcy, we will have to make other arrangements for you, and they will be less pleasant than starting married life a little earlier than you expected.” He smiled. “Come, I know it is not the day you dreamed of, but we cannot always have what we want. I daresay it is preferable to the weddings countless other brides have had.”

  “I would like a moment alone with my bride,” said Darcy.

  “You can have lots of moments alone with her once you are wed.”

  “Let me speak to her. I will not have her blindsided by this marriage. I wish to speak with her first.” Darcy glared at him. “Five more minutes will not make a difference.”

  Shaw looked as though he were about to disagree, but he shrugged and relented.

  “Four minutes,” he said. He gestured to everyone else to leave the room.

  Chapter 17

  Darcy waited until the Shaw had closed the door and his footsteps had moved away before he turned to Elizabeth.

  “Miss Bennet,” he began urgently. Elizabeth’s face was pale.

  “Marriage. They want us to marry one another. You and I. Married. I cannot — they cannot — I will not marry like this.”

  Darcy led her to a chair and took the one opposite her. He leaned toward her and took her hands in his.

  “Elizabeth, look at me,” he said firmly. Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet his. “We do not have a choice,” he said. “You heard them. And I hate to admit it, but they are right. You are far more valuable as my wife. There can only be one Mrs Darcy. I can have another betrothal. Besides, it is not a legal ceremony. It will not bind us, but it will allow me to keep you safe.”

  “But once word gets out about it, we will be considered as good as married,” said Elizabeth. “What happens then? We cannot marry one another.”

  Darcy’s jaw tightened. “We will worry about what happens afterwards once we are free. The most important thing right now is you — that both of us — come through this alive, and consequences be damned. If these men do what they want with us, how much comfort will it give you to know you followed the rules of a society that cannot help us now?”

  A look in Elizabeth’s eyes wavered, and he saw he was getting through to her. He squeezed her hand.

  “It will not be so bad,” he assured her. “And I think they will give you more respect once you are married to me. Right now, you are still a young, unmarried woman. As a wife and Mrs Darcy, they are less likely to harass you.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath.

  “I know
you are right,” she said. “I know everything you are saying is true. It is just I am appalled by everything that is happening. It seems to grow worse and worse. Are we ever going to get out of this situation?”

  “I promise you we will,” said Darcy. “This will all be a bad memory someday; a situation we will regale others with. But we need to get through today first.” He gave her a quick smile. “I will wager this is not how you imagined being married?”

  “Oh, I always hoped there would be pistols and threats involved,” said Elizabeth, prompting a laugh from Darcy he would never have thought he was capable of under such circumstances. “This is all so strange.”

  “It is extraordinary. But I cannot forget the horror I felt when they dragged you away from me this morning. I was wild wondering what they had done to you. They have given us a way that we can stay together, and I am more than eager to take it. What of you?”

  “My husband,” said Elizabeth, looking into Darcy’s eyes. How strange to apply that word to him. “But you are right. This is the best way. We can worry about what follows afterwards.” She gave a mocking lament though her voice shook. “And I never got a proposal.”

  Darcy turned his head toward the door, hearing footsteps coming in their direction. He quickly turned back to Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the door.

  “Miss Bennet, will you marry me?” asked Darcy hastily.

  Elizabeth turned back to him.

  “I will.”

  Darcy took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath as he brushed it.

  “And now we really are engaged. Have courage,” he whispered as the door opened. “I am beside you.”

  Still holding her hand, they rose from their chairs. Darcy nodded.

  “Begin the ceremony.”

  Much of the ceremony passed over Elizabeth’s head as she watched in a daze while Darcy slipped his gold ring on her finger. She turned it around, feeling the unfamiliar heavy metal rest against her skin. His eyes were dark and solemn as he repeated the words of the rogue clergyman, swearing to love, honour and protect her all of his days. If it were not for the gang of thieves surrounding them, Elizabeth might have believed he meant the words he spoke. Her own voice as she repeated the same words, felt numb as they fell from her cold lips.