by Brenda Webb
“Juliet! Juliet!”
Was his mind playing tricks, or could that be Elizabeth?
William sat deathly still for several minutes, turning first one direction in the saddle then another, straining to hear the voice again, but gaining nothing for his efforts. Try as he might, the tossing of trees, limbs and brush back and forth with great ferocity masked further confirmation. Beginning to believe that the howling wind may have deceived him, he kicked the horse forward and had gone perhaps another fifty feet when three large, snarling dogs ran past about twenty feet ahead. They were headed in the same direction as the previous creature and almost caused his horse to bolt anew.
Fear welled up. He knew how vicious wild dogs could be towards man or beast, and if the voice was not a figment of his imagination, a woman could be in their path. Turning the horse around, he followed the dogs.
He had not gone far when he came upon an alarming sight. A stream was beginning to overflow its banks, the swiftly moving waters sweeping everything in its path downstream. In the middle of this stream Elizabeth sat on a fallen tree that must have served as a bridge when the water was calm. She had one arm wrapped around a small white goat and the other wrapped around the remains of a large limb sticking up from the log. On the bank were these same grey dogs, teeth bared and growling. One was just attempting to climb atop the log, as the small goat bleated and struggled to break free from Elizabeth’s grasp. Each time the frightened animal thrashed about, it almost dislodged her from her insecure perch. His heart leapt into his throat at the realisation that if she were to fall into the rushing water, she would most likely be swept away before he could reach her.
Swiftly, William dismounted, tying his horse to keep it from bolting and pulling his rifle from the sleeve on the saddle. Afraid that he might hit Elizabeth if he tried to shoot the dogs, he fired into the air, causing them to scatter. Then he hurried forward, his eyes locked on her as he neared the log.
“Elizabeth, let the animal go!” She shook her head frantically. Seeing that she was resolute, he commanded, “Then hold on and I will come to you!”
Noticing that another tree’s limbs stretched above the fallen trunk, William prayed that he was tall enough to reach one of them. As he climbed atop the fallen tree, he found that he was just able to grab a limb and pull it down to steady himself. Then holding on to it, he began the slow process of edging towards Elizabeth on the slippery log, one step at a time. As he looked down to find where to place his next step, he noted that the water would soon be lapping over the makeshift bridge, but he forced himself not to think on that. Finally, he stood above where she sat.
“Elizabeth, it would be best if you let the animal go.”
Elizabeth shook her head insistently, trying to hold the small creature up to him. “Please,” was all she could manage to say, but her eyes continued to plead, and he knew he could not refuse.
Taking the kid from her grip by the scruff of its neck, he commanded, “Do not let go, and I shall return for you!”
She watched as he made his way back to the bank with the small animal as swiftly as possible, and using his cravat, secured its feet and lay it over the horse where it bleated in protest. Losing no time, he returned to her, moving as rapidly as he dared until once again he stood over where she clung desperately.
“Give me your hand.”
She did not move, her knuckles now white as she gripped the upturned limb. She was shaking violently, whether from fear or cold he knew not. The rain began to intensify, and at that very instant, lightning struck a tree close by, causing them both to jump. The water now began to flow over parts of the tree trunk.
“Trust me, Elizabeth!” he declared as if expecting to be obeyed. “Give me your hand!” Immediately she looked up, her frightened eyes focusing on his outstretched hand. “NOW!”
Instantly, she let go of the limb and reached to take his hand. He grabbed it securely. “I am going to pull you to your feet. Hold on to me and get your balance.”
She did as he instructed, swaying a little as she regained her footing and the feeling returned to her numb limbs. Seeing her unsteadiness, William slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Do not look down; look at me. We shall take one step at a time.”
She nodded, though she appeared as small and frightened as a child. His heart ached for her. “I promise I will keep you safe.”
He waited for the confirmation in her eyes and then began to move a few steps at a time, their feet now mostly underwater as they inched slowly towards the bank. Nearing the end of the log, he stepped down into the water’s edge with his tall boots and pulled Elizabeth into his arms. Swiftly leaving the flood behind, he rushed to the horse and lifted her onto the saddle and placed the small goat in her arms. Promptly mounting behind her, he wrapped his great coat about them as he urged the stallion onward. She turned into the warmth of his body as he murmured in her ear, “We shall take shelter in a nearby cottage.”
In less than a quarter-mile, the tenant house was in sight, and William manoeuvred the horse into the barn. Quickly situating the animals in the dry hay scattered about the structure, he noted that Elizabeth was beginning to shiver more severely. Sweeping her off her feet, he rapidly made his way to the house, kicked open the inadequate door and carried her inside the bare but dry refuge. Constant flashes of lightning illuminated the room, and spying a chair, he set her on her feet, stripped off his great coat and tossed it aside. Then removing his dry frock coat, he placed it about her shoulders, observing as he did that it hung nearly to her knees. She smiled as she surveyed the makeshift covering and then looked up at him. Gently, he scooped her up and sat her in the chair.
“Sit here while I get a fire started.”
Hurrying to the fireplace, he found sparse kindling in a wooden box but tossed it into the grate. Then looking about for more wood to burn, he spied two more chairs. Smashing them against the stone hearth, he began piling the largest parts on the fire and stacked the rest on the hearth for later use.
As he was concentrating on what he wanted to accomplish, he almost missed Elizabeth’s quiet murmur. “There shall be a scandal if I do not return home.”
Turning to study her, he noted that she looked childlike with her hair wet and lying about her shoulders, a look of apprehension marring her countenance. He was trying to compose words of comfort when she spoke despairingly.
“I know that the bridge to Longbourn is likely under water with the stream so high, so it would be useless to set out for home.”
Her eyes involuntarily closed with exhaustion before he could answer, and seeing this, he kept quiet. From then on, Elizabeth was unaware of the progress going on about her until William’s touch brought her back to the present. When she opened her eyes, William, clad once more in his great coat, was kneeling in front of her, holding both of her hands.
And as strong fingers clasped delicate ones, William’s heart soared with the stirrings of first love. At that precise moment, he was certain that nothing in his life would ever be the same. Swallowing hard, he pushed his newfound emotions back into the secret compartment of his heart and focused on the task at hand.
“I am going to close the barn door in case the dogs come back, and I want to retrieve my rifle and some food I brought with me.” A loud clap of thunder shook the house, and a volley of fierce lightning lit the room. Running his thumbs along the back of her hands, he offered reassurance. “Do not be afraid. I shall come right back.”
“I… I shall never be afraid when I am with you.”
Her declaration gave him pause, and he leaned in to place his forehead against hers, and for that brief moment, all was right with the world. But such happiness could not last, and William rose and was out the door in another moment.
In minutes, he returned with a horse blanket he had spied in the barn, his rifle and a small leather sack. Opening it, he placed a serviette on the table next to Elizabeth and opened it to reveal a bun, a piece of cheese and an
apple. Next, he pulled a half-full bottle of water from the sack.
William squeezed her shoulder lightly as she stared at the offering. “Drink the water and try to eat something. You need your strength.”
“What will you—”
“I had just eaten before I found you,” he interrupted. “Please, do as I say. Your body needs sustenance to help you stay warm.”
Elizabeth was too tired to argue and took several sips of the water before beginning to eat the cheese, sandwiched in the bun. As he watched her struggle to eat while shivering, he realised he must do more. Thus, while she ate, he searched the cottage for blankets. All he found was a poor excuse for a mattress—hay stuffed into a roughly sewn burlap bag—which he threw on the floor in front of the fire. He then proceeded to drape the horse blanket he had found over the mattress and placed his great coat atop it, with the dry side out. By then Elizabeth had finished the small meal and was watching him arrange everything. She said nothing when he lifted her from the chair and deposited her on the makeshift bed, then removed his waistcoat to fashion a pillow for her. Nonetheless, she was taken aback when at last he kneeled at her feet.
Focused on his task, William began to undo one soaked shoe, stopping only when their eyes met. He waited until a silent understanding was reached and without a word, he began anew, carefully removing and placing each shoe in front of the fire. Then he tended to her wet stockings—being careful to pull them down from the bottom instead of starting at the top.
“How… how is it that you have no qualms about divesting a woman of her shoes and stockings?” Elizabeth asked, her voice quivering, though she was not sure if it was from the cold or his touch.
He looked up at her enquiry, noting that she was trying to smile and visibly relaxed. “I have a much younger sister, thirteen years my junior. My mother never recovered from her birth, and my father was absent much of the time, so I took it upon myself to see that she had plenty of attention.” His face took on a wistful look. “I took her everywhere I went. I well remember when she was still very young, helping her out of wet clothes after she decided to retrieve a new duckling from the pond, fully clothed. And, as was often the case, I had to help her change clothes to disguise her wilfulness—such as when she played with her paints while wearing her best clothes—which she had been expressly instructed never to do. I must admit I spoiled her.”
“Could not a maid have helped?”
“All the maids would have told Mother straightaway.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Ah, you were her protector. Nevertheless, it seems that your sister and I are kindred spirits!”
It was William’s turn to smile. “How so?”
“My mother thinks me wilful, too. I have not lived up to her expectations of a daughter, much preferring to run through the meadows, climb trees and, yes, even take a dip in the pond on a hot day. Oft times as a child, I had to slip in the backdoor to keep her from learning that I was soaked to the bone.” She laughed mirthlessly. “She will be horrified when she learns of my adventure today and will no doubt inform the world that I shall never grow up or secure a decent husband.”
William thought of the peril she had been in earlier and he sobered. Choosing his words carefully because he did not want to hurt her feelings, he cautioned, “Miss Elizabeth, you could have been killed trying to rescue that kid. That was very foolish on your part. You do know that?” Their eyes met and after a long silence, she nodded. He smiled lovingly. “And I may not be here to rescue you the next time.”
Elizabeth’s face crumpled. For a moment, she looked as though she would cry, but she did not. Instead, swallowing a large lump in her throat, she replied, “I thank you for risking your life to save me and Juliet. But please—just for tonight—let us pretend you will always be here.” With those words, she closed her eyes, the sign that their conversation was finished. And William said nothing more.
Free to observe Elizabeth now that her eyes were closed, he allowed that the thought of leaving her brought him no pleasure either. Nevertheless, he was resolved that he must, especially now that he was confident that he loved her. Mr. Bennet came to mind, and her father’s certain disapproval of their current circumstances made him uneasy. How would he be received when he took Elizabeth home? Seeing that her eyes were still closed, he began to massage the warmth back into her cold, numb feet as he contemplated just that.
Elizabeth was awake but quickly fading into unconsciousness as William’s strong hands continued to stroke her feet, bringing warmth to her cold limbs. Never having been touched by a man and certainly not in as intimate a manner, the pleasure produced by his manipulations was almost overwhelming in its intensity. And drifting off into her dreams, she contemplated the truth that she had learned this day—she had met the man she would love for the rest of her life.
~~~*~~~
Sometime during the early morning hours Elizabeth slowly regained consciousness to the sound of a drumming in her ear and the pleasant smell of sandalwood. She burrowed into the fine scented pillow that lay soft against her face and immediately strong arms tightened about her. Her eyes flew open. Though plainly asleep, William lay facing her, holding her in his embrace. It was evident that the pillow of her imaginings was the fine lawn of his shirt and the continual drumming, his heartbeat. Just as obvious was the fact that, at some point during the night, he had pulled the great coat over her and wrapped his arms about her to keep it in place.
Now fully aware, she reflected on everything that this kind-hearted man had risked for her. At peril to his own life, he had rescued her and Juliet, then spirited them to this cabin to wait out the storm. Clearly he knew the jeopardy he was courting should they be found out; nonetheless, he had thought only of her wellbeing. And as she studied his handsome face, lit only by the glow of the fire, her heart began to swell with love. Though certainly still a young man, deep furrows cut across his forehead and lined his eyes—the kind that usually accompanied great burdens. And being this close, it was easy to discern the scattered grey hairs amongst his black curls. Still, he looked so very handsome with just the stubble of a beard on his strong jaw that she felt drawn to touch him. Shyly she brushed a curl from his forehead, which caused his nose to crinkle but did not awaken him. She smiled.
If we were married, I would see him this way every morning.
At the thought of marriage, her father’s disapproving face appeared in her mind’s eye, and Elizabeth wondered what he would say once they were found. Would he insist that they marry? While she knew without a doubt that she would not repine such a union, she wondered what the one in whose arms she now rested would think of the prospect.
But alas, knowing the great disparity of their stations, the possibilities were too troubling for her to dwell upon at the moment. Thus, she laid her head back on his chest and felt him pull her closer. The flicker of the still glowing fire and the warmth of his embrace were comforting, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.
~~~*~~~
Chapter 4
Netherfield
The next morning
Charles had not been especially worried when Darcy did not appear in time for dinner yesterday. After all, he knew of his friend’s propensity for finishing any project he started, no matter the weather. And Darcy’s note of that morning stated that he wished to finish the survey of the farthest reaches of the property that day, so he probably kept going despite the storm and found shelter somewhere along the route. The thought that his friend likely preferred a tenant’s barn to Caroline’s company at dinner brought a smile to Charles’ face. And the fact that Darcy also mentioned leaving for London forthwith came as no surprise, either. Once Caroline arrived, Darcy always found some reason to leave—that was how it had always been.
Caroline had protested Darcy’s absence from dinner, but Charles brushed aside her insistence that he immediately send men out to locate him. This morning, however, he was beginning to get a bit concerned, though he was certainly not going to bring a
ttention to his disquiet. Better that none of his household learn that Darcy had not returned until he knew what had happened. The less they knew, the less Caroline would likely find out. Thus, he told the servants that he had personally let Darcy into the house very late last night, and he would be spending the rest of the day in his room as he was exhausted. He emphasised that Mr. Darcy was not to be disturbed and instructed them to tell Caroline and the Hursts the same thing when they came down to break their fast.
With his mind a jumble of thoughts and apprehension for his friend, Charles Bingley rode out just before daylight, hoping to find that he was correct, and his best friend had found a safe shelter from the storm at one of the tenant homes.
~~~*~~~
At the cottage
Watching Elizabeth as she slept, William thought how very beautiful she was with absolutely no embellishment. She needed no finery, sparkling jewels or elaborate hairstyles to enhance her person. Her dark brows and eyelashes lay like silk against a perfect complexion and her hair—her hair was his undoing. The long dark locks, drenched the night before, had dried—the resulting dishevelled ringlets more striking than he had seen that day at the bookshop in Meryton. Against his better judgement, he reached to stroke one long tendril, finding it softer than he had imagined and brought it to his nose, closing his eyes in anticipation of a delightful fragrance. The scent of lavender still lingered, and at that moment, he would have given everything he owned for her to be his.
The pain of this reflection pierced his heart, and he hurled that yearning into the same deep recess where he had tossed his own desires two years before. Stoically reaffirming the acceptance of his fate, he began to focus on what was crucial at this point—getting Elizabeth home to Longbourn before daylight. Well aware that they must return before Mr. Bennet had time to arrange for a search party lest their night spent together become common knowledge, he had already saddled the horse. Since all that remained was to wake her, he knelt down beside her, gently shaking her shoulder.
