“Not at all. It was impossible when I thought they might enter at any moment.”
“Then might I suggest you stretch out and sleep here for a while?”
Darcy protested, but Elizabeth interrupted him. “I would feel much better if you were refreshed and alert,” she said. She had taken the measure of him by now. Appealing to his own interests would not persuade him. He would only be convinced if he thought it would better able him to care for her. “If you have not slept in two nights, you will be confused and not as alert as you should be. I will wake you if I feel any unease, but I am sure they mean to keep us here all night.”
Darcy gave her a long look. “Very well,” he said finally. He stood up.
“Where are you going?” said Elizabeth with a smile. “To your bedchamber?”
Darcy returned the smile. “I will sleep on the floor.”
“Nonsense. You will sleep on the bench. I will sit on the floor while you sleep.”
“Out of the question.”
“I need you to sleep.”
“And I will never sleep if I know I have made you stay on the floor.”
The two stubborn faces looked at one another. With flaming cheeks, Elizabeth slid to the end of the bench.
“Then we will both have to share it,” she said. She plucked a cushion and placed it on her lap, then touched it with her hand, refusing to look at him.
“I — you cannot mean —“ Darcy stumbled over his words as he tried to refuse.
“Sir, my reputation is already in tatters if we are found together. So we might as well take what measures we can to be comfortable.”
Darcy looked like he would like to argue further, but he was too exhausted.
“Very well,” he said. He stretched himself on the bench, his head on the cushion on Elizabeth’s lap. They remained that way for a few seconds. Elizabeth’s face burned.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked finally.
The only response was Darcy’s even breathing. She smiled. Imagine the faces of her friends and neighbours in Meryton if they saw them now. At the idea of Miss Bingley’s face, she almost wanted to laugh.
8
A scraping sound near the door woke Elizabeth. She sat up, twisting her neck back and forth to ease the stiffness. Darcy was already sitting up. As he did, Elizabeth noticed with embarrassment that she had allowed her arm to drape over him in sleep. She snatched it to her side, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
Darcy stood at once, his eyes fixed on the door, any remnants of sleep shaken free. Elizabeth rose as well and pressed close to his side.
The door pulled open, and Harper peered in at them. His eyes lingered on Elizabeth, causing her to raise a hand to the neck of her gown to ensure everything was still in place. Without speaking a word, he pushed two tin bowls at them, then shut the door again, but not before Elizabeth glimpsed the sun streaming through the open wagon door and the thrilling sight of the sea beyond.
Darcy and Elizabeth shared their meal without speaking, both lost in thought. Elizabeth almost asked him if he had slept well to break the silence, but recalling how the question could be mischievously construed, decided against it.
“I think we must be near Southend,” said Darcy finally. “I do not think we could have reached another coast in the time we spent travelling.”
“There must be lots of people around there,” said Elizabeth. “It will be difficult for them to hide us.”
“It depends on where they take us. You would be surprised at the open places these scoundrels can stay hidden.” Darcy scratched his chin, where Elizabeth could already see the early signs of a beard. “My steward and I once came across a cave with tunnels leading right to a respectable house in Derbyshire. We only found it when his dog ran in there and refused to return. It would still be undiscovered otherwise.”
Elizabeth rested her head against the wooden panel. “I would have found all this very exciting just two days ago. Now it is a little less so.”
“It will be an exciting story to tell once this is all over. Our grandchildren will be thrilled to hear the tale.”
The word our clanged around the tiny space like a bell. Elizabeth had been trying not to think about that aspect of their predicament. She had no desire to be forced to marry Darcy, and she knew he had no desire to marry her, either.
“What do you think our friends are doing now?” she asked. “Do you think they know we are together?”
“I hope they do,” said Darcy. “If only to provide your family with comfort.” He looked at Elizabeth. “If you are afraid of what this will mean for your reputation, you need not worry. I will, of course, marry you. You will not be ruined.”
Elizabeth threw him a wry smile. “A proposal to make a girl’s heart race, sir.”
“Well, of course, I hope it does not come to that. There might be a way to salvage your reputation. I don’t think either of us would care for a forced marriage. I would much prefer if we—”
“No, of course not,” said Elizabeth quickly. Her smile had faltered but she recovered it. “We might escape and then approach Meryton separately. Everyone can think something different happened to us.” She forced a cheery tone. “We will invent a suitable story. Anything to avoid such an undesirable outcome as marriage.”
Darcy pushed away his breakfast. “And that is what you want?” he asked lightly.
“You do not need to worry, Mr Darcy. You have the good fortune to be abducted by the one lady in the world who has never angled for a proposal from you. I am more than willing to make up a story so we are not forced into a situation neither of us would ever want.”
“I did not know you had given that much thought to how little you wished to marry me,” said Darcy. His tone was still light, but there was just that something to it that told her he was not pleased.
“I do not sit around thinking, ‘I hope I never have to marry Mr Darcy. I hope no one abducts us together, and we are forced to wed’,” said Elizabeth, trying to ease the tension. She could not blame him. Even though she told herself she had no wish to marry Darcy, she did not enjoy hearing that he was also dead set against marrying her. “But I have also never sought your good opinion or tried to recommend myself to you. You must have noticed it. Do not be offended, sir. I only seek to reassure you that if I can help it at all, you will not be forced into a marriage you would never choose.”
“I am very grateful.”
He did not sound it. Brave as he had been, Elizabeth supposed there was still that arrogance in him that made him wish to believe that any woman would die to marry him. She was not inclined to think less of him for it, considering how much he had cared for her. She had come to discover there were worse traits than arrogance.
The wagon finally came to a stop. Elizabeth supposed they must have stopped several times to rest or change the horses throughout the night, but she had slept too deeply to notice. What a poor watch person she was.
Farlow opened the door and jumped back when Darcy stepped out. He cast such an apologetic and nervous look between them that Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him. He was quite young, perhaps several years short of her twenty. She wondered how he had gotten caught up in such a life.
Darcy helped Elizabeth down, and they stood blinking in the early morning light. Though nervous, Elizabeth could not help staring at the sea. They were on top of a cliff, and the sea air caught at her skirts and pulled her loose hair streaming behind her. The water sparkled like crystals on blue, white waves ruffling the surface. Her breath caught in awe as she took a step closer.
“Beautiful, is it not?” said a voice by her side.
Elizabeth jumped and looked around. Lawson stood at her side. He did not look at her, his attention all on the view. Darcy appeared at her other side at once, his demeanour tense and watchful, but Lawson seemed oblivious.
“I have seen the sea all my life, and it still has the same hold on me now,” he confided. “I will never not be in awe of it.”
Elizabet
h crossed her arms over her chest. The air was refreshing, but she had long since lost her shawl, and her grimy gown did nothing to protect her from the wind coming over the water.
“Where are we?” she demanded.
Lawson finally pulled his attention to his prisoners. He grinned.
“No need for you to know that,” he said. “Come. We cannot stand here all day. If you are good, I might allow you out to enjoy the view from time to time.” All traces of his earlier softness disappeared as if it had never been there, his usual mocking grin back in place. He turned on his heel and motioned for them to follow.
For the first time, Elizabeth noticed the house behind them. It was a grey, sprawling building that looked like it might have already been old when Henry VIII pursued his unfortunate wives. Though impressive, it had fallen into disrepair over the years. Several windows in the upper stories were broken, allowing vines of ivy to climb through. Paint peeled and chipped. What parkland Elizabeth could see was overgrown, weeds reaching out everywhere to choke whatever they could find. An old broken down carriage missing a wheel stood in the overlong grass.
“If I had known we were to have guests, I would have made sure it was in better condition to receive you,” said Lawson lightly as he led them up the overgrown path. “We only use some rooms, and the rest are shut up. But do not worry. You will have the best hospitality we can offer.”
Elizabeth glanced up at Darcy. His eyes moved everywhere at once, missing nothing. Elizabeth longed to know what he was thinking.
They were led into a hall that must have been magnificent at some point in its history but had seen better days. Several of the floor tiles were chipped, and the bannister had not been polished in a long time. Elizabeth was surprised to see some rusting suits of armour flanking the walls, on which hung portraits of men and women in clothes from centuries past. The most modern she could see was of a woman who had probably not drawn breath since Charles II sat on the throne. The house exuded long-faded grandeur.
“Is this your home?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, it is.” Though Lawson spoke lightly, there was a glint in his eyes that almost dared her to criticise it. She was almost tempted to take advantage of this vulnerability to do just that, but she resisted.
“I think it must have been magnificent in its day,” she said. “It would be beautiful if it was restored.”
“Indeed,” said Darcy gruffly.
Lawson looked between them as though searching for something suspicious. Before he could respond, a door down the corridor leading from the hall opened. At once, Lawson turned and sprinted as fast as he could. Elizabeth could see no sign of the person who opened it as Lawson ushered them inside, but she could catch his murmured words. To her surprise, his voice as he spoke to the mysterious stranger was gentle, even comforting. He remained inside for a few seconds, and when he emerged, he made sure the door was closed tightly. He cleared his throat when he rejoined them.
“Come with me,” he said gruffly.
With Harper and Farlow at their heels reminding them of their pistols, Darcy and Elizabeth had no choice but to follow. Lawson led them up the stairs to a corridor that looked like it had not been used in many years. It was as dark as the rest of the house. He took so many twists and turns that Elizabeth was hopelessly disorientated. She would need a map to orientate around the labyrinth of passages and rooms they passed through. She looked up to catch Darcy’s eye, but he was once again taking in everything, his eyes darting everywhere.
Finally, Lawson stopped at a room and pushed the door open. It led to a bedchamber that had not been used in years, if not decades. An old, dusty poster bed carved from dark wood was draped with grimy coverlets under which Elizabeth would shudder to sleep. An old wooden dresser stood against the oak-panelled walls, and a heavy table with matching chairs sat near the window, which Elizabeth was delighted to note overlooked the sea. The fireplace was so large Elizabeth could have walked into it. The entire room had an almost medieval feel to it.
“Remember, Miss Bennet, if you are uncomfortable with sharing, I can have another room prepared for you,” said Lawson in a drawling voice.
“I am quite comfortable here, thank you,” said Elizabeth shortly before Darcy could respond.
Lawson grinned at her and winked. “Well, as you can see, the room is not quite prepared for you. If you want it clean, you will have to do it yourselves. We will not wait on you.”
“May we at least have some water for washing?” Elizabeth asked.
Lawson casually allowed his eyes to drift over her, taking in her stained dress and grimy face.
“I suppose it would make you easier to look upon,” he said. “Not that you need much help. I will have something sent up.”
Elizabeth nodded, as regally as a queen. Darcy was strangely silent through the exchange, and he did not speak until Lawson left the room and locked the door behind him.
9
As soon as they were alone, Darcy walked to the window to peer out. He spent some moments observing the view and leaning to the glass to see as much as he could, then he walked to the fireplace and looked up. He grimaced with disappointment.
“It is narrower than it looks,” he said.
“We would never find our way out even if we left the room,” said Elizabeth. “We would never navigate all those twists and turns.”
Instead of responding, Darcy crouched over the dusty floor. Muttering to himself, he began tracing his finger over the dirt.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth leaned over him to see. When he finished, it took her a moment to recognise what she saw. A series of lines. “What is that?”
“A map.” Darcy leaned back on his heels to assess his work. “I memorised every turn we took. This is our room,” he pointed to one end of the line, “and this is the stairs.” He pointed to the other. “We will memorise it until we both know it, then we can remove it.”
“Brilliant,” said Elizabeth, her voice warm with admiration. They both examined the map and repeated it until they were satisfied they could find their way back if they ever escaped the room.
When Lawson opened the door again, Darcy shoved a chair to hide their map from view. Lawson carried a bucket of water by one hand and a mass of some cloth in another.
“I suppose there is no harm in opening a window,” he said. “The walls are too smooth, and we are too high for you to escape. And ships do not come this way, so no one will see you from the sea. See, Mr Darcy? You will recommend my hospitality to your family.”
“I suppose it will go well for you when you are finally captured,” said Darcy. Elizabeth threw him a warning look, pleading with him not to antagonise their captor, who merely grinned lazily.
“I will care for you so well you will be at the front of the line to plead for my release,” he said. He placed the bucket and the material down and put his hands on his hips to look around the room. “This place has seen better days. I do not think it has been in use since my grandmother used it as a young woman. Perhaps those bed covers have not been changed or cleaned since her last night here before she married my grandfather.”
“I suppose it would be too much to ask that you allow us new coverings?” said Elizabeth tartly.
“I am afraid we are without a laundress at present,” said Lawson in a feigned grand tone. “However, you may have clean sheets to sleep on tonight if you are prepared to clean them yourself.”
“I will do it.”
“I thought you might. Very well. Come with me.”
As Darcy made to follow Elizabeth, Lawson pulled out his pistol and aimed it at him.
“Ah ah,” he chided. “Just the lady. You will remain here until she returns.”
“Out of the question,” Darcy snapped.
Lawson shrugged. “It is up to you, of course. I can shoot you now, and that will leave Miss Bennet all alone and at our mercy. Or you can hope she is returned to you soon. Which would you prefer?”
Darcy’s face whit
ened with rage. He took a step forward, his fists clenched. “You—“ he began.
Lawson raised the pistol. Elizabeth cried out and darted between the men, facing Darcy. She put a hand to his chest to stop him from advancing any further.
“I do not believe any harm will come to me,” she whispered. “And he is right. I would be in far more danger if anything were to happen to you.”
Darcy took a deep breath and looked down at her, his hand reaching up to cover hers and hold it to his chest. His chest felt warm through his fine linen shirt.
“Elizabeth—“ he began. His eyes burned so fiercely, Elizabeth swallowed.
“I cannot possibly sleep on those sheets,” she said with a teasing smile. “Do you think a bed covered in mouse droppings and spiders is a fitting place for the future Mrs Darcy to pass the night?”
To her surprise, Darcy’s fingers curled around her hand, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. He whispered her name in a desperate tone.
“If anything happens to her, everything is off,” he said over her head. “I do not care what you will do to me. She returns safe and unharmed. No one will so much as lay a finger on her.”
“You wound me, sir,” said Lawson. “To hear you talk, anyone would think I was not a gentleman. Come, Miss Bennet. The sheets are not about to clean themselves.”
Darcy’s eyes stared down into hers, and he pressed her hand again. Elizabeth could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Swallowing, she withdrew her hand and turned to follow Lawson from the room.
Elizabeth was pleased to see that her study of the map had proved correct, as she guessed every turn and bend before she reached it. She told herself that Darcy would be delighted to know how accurate he was to distract herself from her nervousness.
Lawson didn’t speak as he led her through the labyrinthine passages and down the stairs, where he led her down a further step to an old kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it had seen better days, but it was clear this part at least got plenty of use. Farlow and Harper were sitting at the table with their feet up, smoking. They stopped talking to stare at Elizabeth when she came in. She ignored them as best she could.
Rescuing Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 5
