Author: Alix James
Category: Other
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“I am afraid it is very much too late, Mr. Darcy,” a masculine voice said behind him.
Darcy turned and found three of the militia officers from Meryton, glowering with their hands on their sword hilts.
“Ah, Lieutenant Denny,” Darcy replied in relief. “This is fortuitous. The man you seek has just gone out the back door—if you hurry, he cannot have got far.”
Denny glanced at the three ladies, then nodded to his men. “I am sorry to say, Mr. Darcy, but you are the man I was told to seek. Take him away,” he ordered his men.
29
“You ordered Mr. Darcy arrested for kidnapping!” Elizabeth fumed. “That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard!”
Mr. Bennet sighed and pulled his coat back on, after having just removed it at his own door. “It was not I who ordered it done, but I confess to being somewhat alarmed when you were among the young ladies who could not be accounted for. How long have you been gone, Elizabeth? Better than three hours? Or is it four now?”
Elizabeth glanced at Miss Long, then back to her father. “And you thought—oh, never mind what you must have thought. Sarah and I are both here with Mr. Brown, as you can see, and I can tell you exactly where Mrs. Brown and Miss de Bourgh have gone.”
Mr. Bennet raised his hand to the groom, asking for his horse to be brought back to the door, and replaced the hat on his head. “And I am much relieved, but that still leaves Miss Lucas and Miss King. Where are they?”
Elizabeth sobered. “I cannot answer that, Papa. I can tell you that Mr. Darcy is perfectly innocent. Papa, you must do something—I beg you to do something! The only crime he can be found guilty of is trying to be a good man.”
Mr. Bennet’s brow quirked. “That can be a hanging offense these days. Stay here, Lizzy—for pity’s sake, stay at home just this once, until I have spoken with the colonel.” He swung into the saddle and was gone.
The ride back to Meryton was only an hour, which was the sole mercy to be found in the situation. The ladies had all protested his innocence, but the soldiers had their orders, and so bound and shackled he went until they deposited him in Colonel Forster’s study.
Darcy rubbed his chafed wrists and tried to be still as he waited. Surely, it was all a grave mistake. The “missing” ladies were obviously quite safe, and Fitzwilliam and Bingley would have the rest cleared up in a moment. His greatest doubt, and the only thing that seemed even a faint obstacle, was the concern for what Mr. Bennet might erroneously hear about him. He meant to ask the man for his daughter’s hand, and such a misunderstanding could prove inconvenient.
The door opened, and Darcy stood at once when Forster entered, flanked immediately by Fitzwilliam. Relief flooded him when he saw his cousin.
“Mr. Darcy,” Forster said with a flick of his hand toward the officer at the door. “This has all been a dreadful misunderstanding. You are free to go, with my apologies.”
Darcy offered a short bow. “Thank you, Colonel. I presume all the missing persons been accounted for?”
“Mr. Bennet was at my door not five minutes ago, and he reported that both Miss Long and Miss Elizabeth are safely returned. I have heard nothing from Sir William regarding Miss Lucas, but I am certain there is a simple enough explanation.”
Darcy nodded. “Let us hope. I trust you have sent officers in pursuit of George Wickham?”
The colonel rested his hands on his lapels. “Indeed, I have. Desertion carries a harsh penalty, as you know, sir. Will you bear witness at his court-martial?”
Darcy hesitated. Giving testimony meant uttering the condemning words that would send his childhood friend to the gallows or the firing squad. It was the law, and Wickham had broken it. But still, degenerate as Wickham was, Darcy could not fairly stomach the idea of being the man to send him to his death. “I will consider it, Colonel,” he promised haltingly.
“No, he will not,” Richard spoke up, leveling a heavy eye at Darcy. “Not only does he despise the notion, but he must be gone to Plymouth straightaway.”
Forster chuckled. “Then, I shall wish you safe travels, sir.”
“I must go speak with Mr. Bennet at once. He will be wondering about all these doings, and rightly so. ‘Twould be in exceeding bad form if I did not make explanation—”
“Some other time, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam interrupted. “There is still the matter of getting Anne safely away. It is not too late to make St Albans by nightfall. What in blazes were you doing so far as Cheshunt? Did you lose your way?”
“Not at all, and I do not mean to go west this night. If Anne chooses to come with me, I still intend to go to London to speak with Lady Catherine. This concealment and deception—I will not do it another day.”
“But Darcy! Think of the repercussions. When has anyone been able to reason with our aunt? Mark my words, you go to London, and there will be no cause for you to talk to Mr. Bennet.”
Darcy stubbornly shook his head. “I will not be moved from my intentions regarding Miss Bennet, but neither will I run in fear of our aunt. I will be pleased to escort Anne on to Plymouth afterward, but first—”
He broke off when a horse rushed up from the street, lathered and breathing hard. Bingley’s coachman sprang to the ground and ran to them. “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam! My master says there’s a grand lady come to the house, with some gentlemen as well. He asks you to come at once.”
“Well…” Fitzwilliam snorted. “At least now you do not have to go so far as London to make a muddle of things.”
30
Lady Catherine was in high dudgeon.
She had utterly cowed the hapless Bingley, who appeared to be trembling before her path in the drawing-room. Miss Bingley was even pale and silent, her eyes round as they followed Lady Catherine’s wake without her head ever moving.
Sir William Lucas was also in attendance, his face red and his hands flexing nervously on the back of the sofa by which he stood. It looked as if he were holding his breath, but occasionally he would try to interject something about his still-absent daughter. His displeasure was evident and seemed still directed at Darcy, but no one was paying him any attention.
The only person who seemed perfectly comfortable with Lady Catherine’s ongoing tirade was Collins, who sat by with a beatific expression, nodding every so often when the lady desired affirmation to her points. Into this tense and unhappy scenario arrived Fitzwilliam, Anne, and Darcy.
“Ah!” the lady cried in tones dripping with sarcasm. “They have come at last! Anne, dear, what can you be thinking, wearing that shade? Why, it is entirely unsuitable for your coloring. And what ghastly thing is this?—why, you have six inches of mud on your hems!”
Anne pulled her shoulders back in pride. “Seven, I think, but not to worry, Mama. I made a friend only this afternoon who assures me it will wash out, for hers always do.”
“A friend! She sounds a perfect hoyden, and I forbid—”
“Oh, do not worry, Mama,” Anne interrupted. “I shall not long call her my friend. I think she shall soon be my cousin.” She grinned and made a passable curtsy to her mother. “If you will excuse me, I must go have my gown washed out for the morrow. We must leave early if we are to make good time on the road to Plymouth.”
Lady Catherine’s features purpled, and she stabbed her cane on the ground. “You shall do no such thing! We are for London in the morning, and you will forget this sham of an entanglement. Betrothed, indeed. Do you not recall that you are engaged to Darcy? Have you no decency, child? Have you no shame? What if society were to hear of this?”
Anne’s cheeks flushed, and she rose up on her toes to stand chin to chin with her mother. “I was content to carry it all on quietly. I will not marry Darcy—and do not say you will have me, Cousin, for we both know you will not. Mama, I tried to spare you the disgrace of a public scene, such as you have just caused.” She gestured roundly to the Bingleys and Sir William. “Had you only been content enough to accept—”
“I will
hear no more of this,” Lady Catherine snorted. “The very idea that a girl of seven and twenty is old enough to know her own mind! Be off with you, girl, and come back after you have put on something fit to be seen. Darcy! I would have words with you.”
Darcy squared his feet and prepared to defend his actions, but just as Anne left the room, the butler appeared beyond her, trying to get Mr. Bingley’s attention. Bingley summoned him, and the man reported yet more callers had just arrived at Bingley’s door… A Mr. and Miss Bennet. Darcy fought a smile as Bingley rose to attend them, but Lady Catherine heard the names as well.
“Bennet? Collins, come here, I need you. I would have words with this strumpet you spoke of. Have her shown in!”
Mr. Bennet entered with a smile that was almost mischievous, taking in each occupant of the room and then finally gazing long and hard at Darcy before coming to stand before Lady Catherine. Elizabeth, blessed creature, quietly took her place not far from Darcy’s elbow.
“I hope I am not interrupting,” Mr. Bennet remarked. “I came to inform Sir William that not an hour ago, his daughter Maria was found safe. It appears she had gone off to have a merry sulk over some heartbreak or other and got her boot stuck in a tree root. My Lizzy found her in the wood behind Longbourn. She is quite well, save for a badly sprained ankle and a bit of angst, I should guess.”
Sir William’s sigh of relief was audible, but he was not permitted to relish his deliverance from worry, for Lady Catherine put up her hand.
“Who is this girl? What is she to my complaint? I have been badly used, and I call on each person in this room to bear witness.”
“Oh, yes, to be sure, Your Ladyship,” Mr. Collins added. “I am very glad that my future sister has been found, and there was no sort of scandal to taint her family, but this is a much greater affair at stake.”
Lady Catherine glared her parson into silence, then she narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. “Mr. Bennet,” she sniffed, “you have great audacity, bringing this person into my presence. I have it all from Collins. This—this heedless vixen you put forward as a young lady of good family has pretensions that would appall anyone of principle!”
Darcy bristled and stepped forward, cutting off whatever Mr. Bennet might have had to say. “Aunt Catherine,” he said tightly, “I must insist on an apology for Miss Bennet. She has done no wrong, and any disreputable behavior has been yours, not hers.”
“Yours, rather!” his aunt snapped. “Do you mean to carry on as you have done? Courting the woman who was designed for my parson—my parson!—and neglecting dear Anne, to whom you have been promised since infancy? Shame, Darcy! And you, Elizabeth Bennet, I insist on a promise that you will do nothing more to entangle my nephew and to lead him astray. Your arts and allurements have done harm enough.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, and her mouth edged upward into a careful smile. “I will make no such promise, Your Ladyship.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes widened. “You refuse to satisfy me! Do you deny that you have employed your charms to seduce my nephew away from his proper bride?”
“As I understand the sequence of events,” Elizabeth said, “Miss de Bourgh declared her preference for another long before I had ever ‘charmed’ Mr. Darcy, as you say. Such charm, if I must define it, consisted not of the ‘allurements’ you must suppose—rather, Mr. Darcy and I have argued rather constantly. But ‘twas a good-natured sort of argument, and must have given more pleasure than the present debate. I do not like to cause embarrassment for any, but it seems as though your insistence upon your daughter marrying Mr. Darcy has only caused discord, rather than harmony. Instead of unifying your family, you have divided it, my lady.”
Lady Catherine’s face had blackened—like a gathering storm, she appeared to be marshaling her forces for the lethal strike. Her finger extended, her lip curled, but before she could unleash her fury, Darcy disarmed her.
“Aunt Catherine, Miss Bennet is perfectly right. She is a wise and good creature—moreover, she is one of great grace and kindness. That is what I would have in my home, and that is how I mean to carry forth the Darcy name—that is, once I have spoken with Mr. Bennet,” he added, with a nod that gentleman answered with a chuckle.
“As for my cousin,” he continued, “she has stated her wishes, and I will honor them. Fitzwilliam and I will escort her to her wedding in public fashion, with or without your blessing. I suggest ‘with’. If Anne and her husband to be are ever troubled by you, know that I will take the offense upon myself, and will address the complaint personally. Do I make myself understood?”
Lady Catherine went still—cold and gray became her features until even the blazing inferno of her eyes died. She passed an apathetic look over the Bennets, over the Bingleys, sniffed disdainfully at Sir William, and then she flicked her hand at Collins, much like one would to a dog.
“If that is your resolve, then so be it. I have nothing more to say to you—to any of you. You deserve no notice from me. Come away, Collins.”
Epilogue
Elizabeth was standing at the wicket gate by the garden when the coach pulled up. Scarcely had the driver dismounted the box when the door flung wide, and her own Fitzwilliam stepped down. He hesitated not a moment before swinging into a long, easy stride toward her—his smile buoyant, his complexion bright with eagerness.
He stopped just short of her, his hands resting on the opposite side of the gate as he leaned close. “Might I interest you in an adventure, my Elizabeth?”
She laughed. “And what sort of adventure would that be?”
“Why, anything you would like. A trip around the world, discovering a secret hideaway in the woods, a chase on horseback perhaps, or just a simple stroll down the lane. I care not, so long as you are by my side.”
She rolled up her eyes, pretending to think long and hard on it. “Are you not the sort of man who insists on duty before pleasure? How have all those odious tasks come out?”
“As to that, Anne was married four days ago in Plymouth. Her Mr. Sullivan first refused to come live at Rosings, for terror of both Anne’s mother and his own brother, for it was feared that there would be a great rift in both families. However, after a few stern words from my uncle, Lady Catherine found the means to send her well wishes in a note. And so, it all came off far better than expected.”
“I am very glad to hear it. If I am not mistaken, Mr. Darcy, that leaves you quite at your leisure?”
He leaned a little farther over the gate. “I was hoping you would notice that fact. What do you say—can I tempt you with the notion of a private walk? Only a short one for such a cold day, but I am longing to have you to myself again for just a few moments.”
“Unchaperoned? Sir, what do you take me for?”
“My own, I hope. In only a fortnight more, you shall truly be my own. But, if you insist on propriety…”
Elizabeth pressed up against the gate and captured his face, brushing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and effectively silencing him. His eyes glazed—he drank in a rapturous sigh, and then a foolish grin appeared on his face.
“Was that a yes?”
“Mr. Darcy, that was a ‘What are we waiting for?’. Shall we?”
She flipped the latch of the gate without a backward glance and slid under his arm for an embrace more to her liking. There was nothing so pleasant on a biting November morning as warm breath, freshly shaved skin, and tender caresses.
“Shall we not inform the house?” he asked after a moment. “Your family will wonder where you have gone.”
“Oh, I doubt that. We have become quite accustomed to the idea of young ladies disappearing now and again.”
He laughed and drew her close for a deeper kiss—a sweeter kiss, full of honesty and presence, and all the things that made him so real and trustworthy. His arm was strong about her, his voice earnest when he brushed her cheek and gazed down into her eyes.
“Then spirit me away with you, my love.”
About the Author
> Alix James is a best-selling romance author under another pen name. Always on the go as a wife, mom, and business owner, she rarely has time to finish a whole novel. She loves coffee and the sunrise and being outdoors. When she does get free time, she loves to read, camp, dream up romantic adventures, and tries to avoid housework.
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