Darcy Meets Elizabeth In Kentucky

by Glenna Mason

  Elizabeth ground the car into reverse. It was too dark for the rear view mirror, so she guided the car backwards by watching the road in front of her. She zoomed through the gate and raced haphazardly down the open field, soon accelerating to sixty miles an hour. She was literally flying from bump to bump.

  “I am going home to my man,” Elizabeth shouted. “No wicked witch from the West, no headlights or the car behind them, no rutted field, no black board fence are going to stop me,” Elizabeth shrieked, literally now out of control. “He needs me! I need him!”

  She passed the headlights on the far side of the fence, barely glancing that direction, knowing it had to be Claire and that she must escape her. Who else could it be?

  Then Elizabeth heard a siren blare and glanced over her shoulder to see a flashing light on the top of a car. She slowed and swerved. The car doors opened; four occupants jumped out of the doors and shouted. One was Jane. Elizabeth circled back toward the fence and the vehicle with the flashing lights.

  Thirty seconds later Darcy climbed the fence; Elizabeth braked to a stop. As soon as Elizabeth exited from the car, Darcy scooped her up and twirled the two of them around the field. Finally tiring, Darcy hugged her to him, and she let out a small squeal of pain. He stopped in his tracks and gently lowered Elizabeth to her feet.

  “Darling . . .”

  Standing back at right arm's length, surveying him up and down, a smile crossing the half of her face which was not blue, bloated and blood caked, her right eye, the one not swollen shut, twinkling, Elizabeth observed, “Fitzwilliam, you have on your new suit.”

  They embraced each other and broke into gales of happy laughter.

  No one noticed that Elizabeth had on a pair of filthy and torn linen pants, which were shedding bits of wood and roof, a ripped chemise over a dirty bra and a silk blouse, wrapped strangely around her neck. No one noticed and no one cared.

  *****

  An hour later Jane relaxed by the hospital gurney carrying Elizabeth. The two waited for the x-rays of Elizabeth's left arm and the arrival of Jane's hospital associate, an orthopedic surgeon, who had agreed to get out of bed to set Elizabeth's shattered arm.

  The sisters shared tales of the evening. Elizabeth had completed her incredible odyssey and Jane's too was drawing to an end.

  “I was sitting on the third step of the Carstairs’ porch, the chief having yellow taped the porch and the top step with the blood spatter. I was reading the file and came up with your description of the truck and the tobacco barn. Sir William rounded the house from the main barn. I showed him the account, which he had apparently previously scanned. Fitzwilliam came up from the rear of the house soon after. We conferred. It was about nine-forty. We commandeered the chief and his car, which we had ridden in from Longbourn. I was in the front seat with Chief Clem. It was nine-fifty.

  “We were pretty confident by then that you were in the tobacco barn, Elizabeth, and I can say without any chance of exaggeration, we were all filled with the most immense trepidation at what we would find there.

  “When we saw the headlights coming towards us on the gravel drive, we were astonished. Who could it be? The one thing that we did know was that it was not Claire; she was safely in jail. An accomplice? A poacher? I have to tell you, Lizzy, my heart almost stopped. We never ever guessed that it could be you. Then when the lights began to recede, we were in a panic. I thought Fitzwilliam would jump from the moving car.”

  “Bless his heart.”

  “Sir William has been a wonder, Lizzy, helping Fitzwilliam cope. They are surely lifelong friends of the most enduring kind by now.”

  “I am grateful,” Elizabeth said. “And I know I am beholden to you too, Jane. I am aware of your capacity for composure under stress. Fitzwilliam has none of it. He wears his passion on his sleeve for all to see. It's his curse, as well as his grace.”

  “Yes, he does, but it is a tribute to his abiding capacity for love and the depth of his devotion to you.”

  “It certainly is,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “And beholden to me, Lizzy. Never!”

  “Dr. Bingley, the x-rays are ready,” a nurse said, handing a large manila envelope to Jane. “Dr. Marple called; she is five minutes away.”

  “Dr. Marple, Jane?” Elizabeth broke out into a spontaneous laugh.

  “Speaking of Marples, Lizzy, you did it. You solved a mystery just like you always wanted to.”

  “Did I, Jane? I certainly threw caution to the proverbial wind and jeopardized the future of my family.”

  “And speaking of family, Lizzy, congratulations on the baby. Fitzwilliam told me. He is so proud. I hope you don't mind.”

  “Of course I don't mind. The baby is Fitzwilliam's to announce in any way he wants. I am going to tell everyone at Monday Night Supper. I figured you already knew anyway.”

  “Well actually, I did suspect.”

  “Anyway, did I solve a crime? Claire wrote me a virtual confession. All I did was read it.”

  “I think that you deserve a lot of credit that a truly dangerous woman is behind bars.”

  “I am glad of that at least.”

  “Oh, here she is.” Jane said.

  “Dr. Aga Marple, my sister Elizabeth, your patient.”

  EPILOGUE

  The Friday morning breakfast at Maria's was thankfully a celebration and not a wake. And Maria outdid herself—when did she not? As soon as Jane called her Thursday evening, Maria, contacted her favorite caterers and offered them a substantial bonus to buy the supplies and be at her house at six-thirty to set up and prepare a breakfast for an army of guests. The caterers were ecstatic. The bonus was really substantial.

  By seven, a crowd poured onto the Lucas property, some on foot, some on horseback and some in cars. The initial group had gathered at the Carstairs’ fence line, but the word had spread quickly, so now the late-comers headed straight to Maria's home and grounds on the Stantonfield estate, aptly named Lucas Lodge II, after her former home in Hertfordshire, England.

  Rows of picnic tables and benches lined her front lawn; breakfast fare welcomed guests.

  Elizabeth was seated separately at a table for two under a two hundred year old maple. Her face was black and blue, half of it swollen to twice its normal size, her left eye closed tight. The bottom half of her left arm was in a cast, resting in a sling, made from a pretty scarf.

  Elizabeth insisted on being at the party on time. “I'm the guest of honor,” she said with a crooked smile. Then she added more seriously, “Everyone wants to see for himself that I am alright.”

  The news of Claire's nefarious attack on Elizabeth and of Elizabeth's complicated, courageous escape had spread with heady agility through the small community. The neighborhood was gathering, with the kind of excitement it usually reserved for the turn of a century, to hear the whole story and to show appreciation that Elizabeth was still their neighbor. The news that Claire now resided in the county jail just added luster to the spine-tingling tale.

  Darcy was dressed again today in his new suit, with a fresh white shirt sans tie. He was seated with Elizabeth at her table, helping her greet everyone. Libby Bell and Millie Kay hovered nearby. Trey sat on her knee. Life was good.

  “No work for you of any kind until Monday. I cannot have you collapsing after a concussion,” Jane, her boss in this instance, had insisted the night before, when she stitched up Elizabeth's head wound and applied a cold pack to her cheek and eye. Jane had emphatically added, “Doctor's orders, young lady.”

  By Monday, Elizabeth was the sensation of the towns of Richmond and Lancaster, as well as the EKU campus. When she returned to the college, she was surrounded by former and new students alike, eager to sign her cast. EKU had, of course, lost its newest faculty member, Claire Evans, but found her much easier to replace than her illustrious husband, an irony Claire would fail to appreciate.

  *****

  A slight bulge began to show in Elizabeth's stomach area. She asked Darcy to accompany her to
the three month's checkup at her gynecologist's office, so he could get the “daddy mantra” down pat. Darcy, who was at least as excited about the baby as Elizabeth, readily agreed. When they arrived, Dr. Donovan informed them that today she would do an ultra-sound. Darcy was thrilled.

  Elizabeth and Darcy looked at the screen, but the picture didn't look like anything but gurgling lines to them. Dr. Donovan helped out by pointing to a specific spot and announcing, “Here is one fetus.” She then moved the marker, declaring, “And here is the second.”

  Darcy's eyes widened with surprise. “The second!” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, sir,” said Dr. Donovan. “You are having twins.”

  “B-b-but,” he stuttered. He stopped, his dimples twinkling. “I am so glad. One pregnancy—an entire family.”

  “Yes, great family planning,” said the doctor.

  Elizabeth clapped her hands in wonderment. “Hurrah!” she shouted.

  “Now this is not definitive, but it looks like you have one young lady and one young gentleman in the making.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Darcy said, grabbing Elizabeth's hand and squeezing.

  “Ouch!”

  *****

  That evening, sitting by the fire, cozily snuggling down into the confines of the soft leather of the sofa, Elizabeth and Darcy played the name game. “I think Sherlock for the girl and Holmes for the boy.”

  “Not bad, dear, but I might prefer Conan and Doyle.” They giggled and snuggled closer.

  “Seriously, Lizzy, I am so happy.”

  “As am I.”

  They watched the flames a moment or two, before Elizabeth said, “My mother has me as a namesake. I think your mother needs one. Geraldine, isn't it?”

  “I would love to name my daughter for my mother. She was such a fine lady. Her middle name was Mariah.”

  “Geraldine Mariah Darcy—we'll call her Mariah.”

  “Settled!” They gave each other high fives and a spirited peck on the lips.

  “That was easy,” Elizabeth commented. “Do you want your son named for you, darling?”

  “I think Bennet,” Darcy returned.

  “I think you are right,” Elizabeth said, very pleased.

  “And your dad, Fitzwwilliam? My dad has Tommy George in this generation.”

  “How about Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy. Then several generations of ancestors from England will not rise up to haunt me. Dad got Georgiana as his namesake.”

  “Fitzwilliam Bennet Darcy, but we'll call him Bennet,” Elizabeth corrected. “Saves a lot of questions later, if both are called by their middle names, no room for complaints that way.” More high fives and pecks.

  “To Mariah and Bennet!” Elizabeth toasted, raising her diet cola.

  “To Bennet and Mariah!” Darcy said, clicking his champagne glass to her cola.

  *****

  Later Darcy made a pronouncement, “I'll only be riding in Kentucky from now on.”

  Expecting an argument, Darcy was gratified when Elizabeth responded, “I'm glad, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I intend to get much more involved in the Foundation. It is something I should have done years ago, but now it is mandatory. With the magnanimous investing already and more to come and with Tish's farm to fill with endangered horses and men to tend them, I have new responsibilities, which need careful attention and nurturing. I guess I am glad now that Dad sent me to IU for that MBA. It means I will probably have to go to Corbin at least once a week for a day or two.”

  “Of course, Fitzwilliam. It isn't far. You do have the upstairs reserved. Perhaps I and later the children and I can accompany you. Then you can stay several days when it is necessary.”

  Shortly Elizabeth had her own announcement. “Fitzwilliam, since I won't be teaching at all now second semester, I'm going to dust off my mystery and give it another try.”

  “I'm glad.”

  “You see, pre-Claire, I had no grasp on the nature of a villain. I had no experience with antagonists. Experience is a great instructor. Now I believe I can truly catch the malice and the vitriol of the protagonist's nemesis.”

  Darcy surprised her pleasantly when he said, “I'd love to help with it, Lizzy. I too now know the manifestations of hate. I am sure you remember the anguish I have suffered over the fear of losing you. It is gone now, Elizabeth. I am as sure as I can be of anything that Claire Evans sent telepathic waves across Pope Road, which I somehow intercepted.”

  “Oh, would you help, Fitzwilliam? That would be splendid. I can see the cover now—In the Rafters by Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy.”

  “Your name comes first, Elizabeth.”

  TO BE CONTINUED….

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Glenna Mason is a lifelong admirer of all things Austen. Pride and Prejudice is of course the inspiration for her Regency romances: Mr. Darcy and the Lady with the Fine Eyes, Mr. Darcy’s Foreboding and The Pleasure of Mr. Darcy’s Love. In her fourth Pride and Prejudice variation, Glenna Mason takes the Austen hero and heroine in a new direction. She places them in the twenty-first century in her beloved Kentucky horse country in a combination of mystery and romance that guarantees to please.