by Robin Helm
“I need to bring it away with me. Or else burn it.”
“No! It is—of fine cotton lawn and quite comfortable! Why should I give it up?”
Heavens, was she blushing?
He certainly was!
“Suit yourself. See to it that Lady Catherine does not find it.” Darcy took up the closet door and his portmanteau. Unbolting the front door was awkward, but he managed it.
“You cannot leave now! It’s snowing!”
He turned. “This is April. It does not snow in April.”
“Suit yourself,” she scoffed. “But there was snow when I looked out earlier.”
Darcy paused, gave her a quelling look, and pulled open the door.
The sight of swirling snowflakes stopped him in his tracks. “Wonderful,” he spat. “Just wonderful.”
He crossed the threshold and resolutely made for the dock. Elizabeth dropped the knife and followed. “You cannot walk across miles of frozen ground in your stocking feet!” she called out. “You’ll lose your toes to frostbite.”
“As if that matters!” he flung back.
“But—”
He swung round. “Blast it all, Elizabeth! Do you not understand? I cannot be found here with you! And the ground is not frozen; the snow is only in the air.”
Darcy adjusted his hold on the closet door and stomped across the rough terrain. He stubbed a toe, but bit back a yelp. He would not give her the satisfaction.
Elizabeth was hard on his heels. “Galahad would never abandon a damsel in distress.”
“Galahad would never have allowed himself to be kidnapped,” he retorted. “Nor would he be embroiled in an execrable dilemma like this!”
“Should I instead call you Lochnivar? But no, Lochnivar cared nothing for fair Ellen’s reputation when he stole her from the wedding.”
“So daring in love, so dauntless in war,” Darcy muttered, quoting Scott. He’d been daring in love, all right. And Elizabeth’s scorn was the result!
“He loved her as much as she loved him,” Elizabeth insisted. “And yet her father wed her to a cowardly brute. So Lochnivar carried her away on his charger, without concern for what anyone thought.”
“Poetry is not meant to be a guide for life.”
“Why ever not? As you said yourself, Lady Catherine—and her fine opinions—can go hang!”
“Return to the house, Elizabeth,” said Darcy wearily. “You’ll catch your death out here.”
“As shall you!”
There was no point in arguing; he hadn’t the strength. He reached the end of the dock and knelt to float his makeshift raft on the surface of the water. Fortunately, it supported the weight of the portmanteau. Darcy began to unbutton his frock coat.
“Now what are you doing?”
“Are you still here? I thought I told you—”
“It’s freezing, and yet you are removing your coat.”
“I cannot swim while wearing this.” Carefully, Darcy added his coat to the raft. He began to unbutton his waistcoat.
He heard Elizabeth’s gasp of astonishment. “Upon my word! Will you remove all your clothes?”
“No, only these.”
“You intend to swim all that way?”
“I do.”
“You’ll never make it.”
“I thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said at last. “Are you always this stubborn?”
He had to smile; he could not help it. “This is hardly a new revelation, is it?”
Snow swirled round them; Elizabeth hugged herself against the cold. “Go back inside,” said Darcy gently. “Comfort yourself that you are escaping an unhappy future.”
“You are leaving me to face your aunt’s wrath alone! What can be worse than that?”
“Until death do us part is a long time to be miserable, Elizabeth.”
“Who said I would be miserable?”
“You did.”
Elizabeth laid a restraining hand on his arm. “If you truly loved me, you would not abandon me like this.”
It was as if her fingers burned through the fabric of his shirt. Darcy could not bear her touch. He roughly pulled away. “Please don’t.”
Surprise was in her eyes—and pain? No, that could not be right. She was merely sorry for him, in the way one pitied a suffering animal.
“Very well then, go!” cried Elizabeth. “Since you are determined to be rid of me!”
If only this were true! “Do you think this is easy for me, loving you as I do?”
There, he’d said it.
And why was he shouting? “Yes, I am stubborn,” he fairly growled. “And I never claimed to be Galahad. The best I can do for you, Elizabeth, is to give you your freedom.”
“What if I do not wish to be free? What if I have—changed my mind?”
He shrugged out of his waistcoat and threw it down to the raft below. “You’ll think better of it presently, my dear. Stand clear, if you do not wish to be splashed. I’ve always found it easier to jump straight in.”
“Fitzwilliam, no! You mustn’t!” Elizabeth’s eyes were pleading. “Nothing is worth this sacrifice!”
Darcy steeled his resolve. She was right; the shore was farther away than he thought. It would be a challenge to reach it. He sent up a silent prayer for strength.
Feet first, that was the best line of attack. If the lake were shallow here, he would soon find his footing and then plunge ahead into deeper water. Darcy drew a long breath, bent his knees, and sprang.
He heard Elizabeth give a cry.
He did not realise that she had flung her arms around him until together, he and Elizabeth hit the icy water.
CHAPTER 15
Darcy’s head cleared the surface of the lake, and his feet soon found the bottom. Thanks be to God, Elizabeth was nearby. She clung to him, coughing—a very good sign. At all costs, he must get her to safety.
“It’s cold,” she sputtered. “So horribly cold.”
“I know, love,” he said, tightening his hold. “I’ve got you. Are you hurt?”
“I—no.”
“You didn’t hit the dock as you jumped?”
She shook her head.
“Put your arms around my neck and lean on me. I’ll carry you.” Darcy lifted her and pushed through the water toward the shore. This was no easy feat, for her skirts tangled in his legs.
At last, he was able to set her on her feet; he held her close against his chest. She was shaking from the cold, and so was he—but no matter. She was safe.
He shouldn’t smile; they both were wet and miserable. And it was still snowing! But by Jove, what a turn of events! From deep within a chuckle bubbled up.
Elizabeth parted her wet hair and looked up at him. “Is that all you can do? Laugh?”
“We are in the suds, as Fitz would say. And there isn’t a blessed thing we can do about it.”
“I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam. I couldn’t let you do it; I just couldn’t.”
“You’ll hear no complaint from me! Save for the fact that every garment I own is soaked, and you are wearing your only dress.”
“But your dry clothes?”
“My portmanteau has descended to Davy Jones’ locker—or wherever bottom-dwellers of a lake reside.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“There’s no harm done, none at all. In fact, it’s rather fun. When Aunt Catherine arrives, she’ll find us inside, wrapped up in blankets, with all our clothes hanging on the line.”
“Oh—dear.”
“You are certain you’re not hurt? Here we go, then. I’ll carry you inside. Thank God we have a nice fire going.”
At the fireside, Darcy had to struggle with the buttons at the back of her muslin gown and the knotted tie that held her stays. Sweet punishment!
“I’ll just go rescue my clothes before the current carries them to deeper water. Will you be all right for a few minutes?”
“Yes—thank you.”
>
When Darcy returned, Elizabeth was wearing his nightshirt and Anne’s pink dressing gown. Wrapped in a blanket, she huddled at one end of the bedroom sofa. She indicated a pile of sodden clothing. “Will you take these outside and wring them for me?”
He wrung out her dress right there and hung it on the back of a chair.
“The water will ruin the floor,” she protested.
“Good,” he said, grinning. “Lady Catherine deserves no consideration.”
“How horrid you are.”
He laughed and went out. When he came back, he wore a blanket over his chest and shoulders. Was she blushing? Darcy hitched the blanket higher and wrung out his shirt.
Alas, the temptation to tease her was too much. He held up his wet shirt. “This should dry quickly, being of fine lawn—like my nightshirt.”
Elizabeth had the grace to laugh.
“If I may ask, why were you reluctant to part with it?”
She dipped her head adorably. “Because it is yours. And as you say, it is very fine.”
“So that is why you changed your mind about me. To keep my nightshirt.”
Her smile became coy. “Indeed, yes. And also, to have a new dress or two, for that one is quite ruined.” She paused.
Darcy knew that look. Smiling, he waited.
“I never thought to marry for money, as you know, but now I see that money is quite convenient. Although—we haven’t any at the moment, have we?”
“Nothing of value, save for my ring.”
“Is it still snowing?”
“I’ll look.” Darcy went out to the front room and parted the curtain. Immediately he stepped aside to avoid being seen. Here it was, the moment of reckoning. He watched as Fitz climbed down to open the coach door for his aunt—and only his aunt. Aside from the coachmen, there was no one else.
At once Darcy returned to the bedroom. “My dear,” he said quietly, “we have company.”
Elizabeth started up. “Lady Catherine?”
“In the flesh. Her travelling coach just pulled up. She must have risked Sunday travel.”
“But Fitzwilliam, I-I am not dressed for callers. Unless I squeeze myself into one of Anne’s ridiculous party dresses! But the buttons will not close at the back—and my ankles will show.
Darcy could not help but smile. “Everyone knows that a man is seduced by ankles.”
“Oh, you!”
“And yet, you might have something there.” Darcy’s smile grew wider. “A very good idea. Better than good, brilliant.”
“Why do I not trust you?”
Darcy’s gaze returned to the front room. “I believe our enemy, the lake, is about to become our friend. It will take time for my aunt and Fitz to row over—if Fitz can remember how to row.”
“Perhaps one of the coachmen does?”
“Lady Catherine wouldn’t dare bring a witness across. It will be just the two of them. We have perhaps five minutes.”
“To do what?”
“To set the stage for a grand melodrama.”
“It will be all that and more. Lady Catherine will tear me to shreds.”
“I think not. We have the upper hand.”
“I most certainly do not! I am wearing only your nightshirt and a blanket!”
“Don’t forget Anne’s frilly robe.” Darcy dropped to one knee before her and took hold of her hand. “What say you, dearest Elizabeth? Will you have me for your husband?”
Her eyes were wide. “I—”
Justice made him add, “Or perhaps you would prefer my cousin? Doubtless this is why Aunt Catherine brought Fitz along.”
Elizabeth put up her chin. “I shan’t be forced to marry anyone!”
“I concur. But if given a choice?” Darcy’s voice softened. “Fitz is a decent fellow, my love. I can see why you would choose him over me.”
“But I do not want him! Will you think me shameless if I—if I choose you?”
Darcy could scarcely breathe for joy.
“If the truth be known,” she went on, “I have been regretting my refusal for days.”
“Have you indeed,” he whispered. “I am the happiest man alive. Now then, about my busy aunt, who is determined to interrupt. Are you up to feeling brave?”
“I haven’t much courage left, but yes—if you are with me.”
“Now and always.” His smile widened into a grin. “What say you to giving Lady Catherine a scare?”
Her eyes studied his face. “How do you mean?”
“You cannot climb back into your wet clothes. Thus, we are left with you in a blanket and me, wet and half-dressed. Naturally, Lady Catherine will assume that she has caught us—”
“Caught us?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Shall we treat her to a little scene? In flagrante delicto?”
“Fitzwilliam, no! That would be cruel.”
“She deserves to suffer a little, don’t you think?”
“It is most unwise to taunt her, for we would never live it down! Heavens, we shall never live any of this down!” She hesitated. “What did you have in mind?”
“You remain here on the sofa, bundled in your blanket, and I take the role of seducer. Now then, let me see. No cravat, no waistcoat. I’ll just put on my shirt again. It is only a little wet.”
Darcy shook it out and turned away from Elizabeth. Even so, he could feel her gaze on his bare back as he dressed. It was a struggle to get the shirt on, but the end result was perfect. It clung to his chest in a way that Lady Catherine would not appreciate!
It was all he could do to keep from laughing. He tucked in the shirt and turned to Elizabeth. “Now then, sleeves rolled up?”
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
“Shall I put on my wet stockings? Does a fellow seduce a woman in stocking feet?”
Elizabeth answered with a gurgle of laughter.
“Agreed, no stockings.” Next Darcy contemplated the front of his breeches.
She guessed his thoughts. “Those must to stay on, sir.”
“Decidedly. But we are looking to scare Aunt Catherine. This should do it.” He unfastened the top two buttons.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy!”
This daring touch pleased him immensely, given that seduction was not his forte. “Now that the stage is set,” he said, “things become a little more difficult—for you.” He hesitated. “Do you, er, mind if I kiss you?”
“I-I suppose that would be best, as we must keep up appearances.”
She was as shy as he was!
Her next words confirmed this. “I know nothing about kissing, so you are in for a disappointment.”
“Kissing is not exactly in my line either. Wait, you’ve kissed no one? Not even Wickham?”
“No! Certainly not. Why would I wish to kiss him? I could ask you about seducing chambermaids.”
“Girls whose families I know, who have served us for years? Please. Give me some credit for having morals. Besides, my father would’ve had my hide. I am one of the Stiff-and-Decent Darcys.”
Elizabeth dimpled. “But not, I trust, with me …”
He settled beside her and gathered her into his arms. It was beyond wonderful to hold her like this. His lips touched Elizabeth’s soft cheek, and he whispered, “Most definitely not with you.”
oOo
Lady Catherine climbed out of her coach, an awkward business. Her lumbago was acting up. Here was yet another crime to lay at Darcy’s feet. So much inconvenience he had caused, simply because he would not do his duty!
“There it is,” she announced to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Grimstone House. The scene of the seduction.”
He blew smoke from his cigar into the cold air. Lady Catherine looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Must you smoke?”
“I am outdoors, Aunt.”
“Nevertheless, it is a filthy habit. Something you picked up in the army, no doubt. You father would never tolerate such a thing. He, like any decent gentleman, prefers snuff.”
Colonel Fitzwill
iam did not answer. He was studying the house on the island.
In spite of her heavy coat, Lady Catherine shivered. There was a breeze, and it was snowing lightly. How typical of Dartmoor to be unobliging as to weather!
“Someone’s home, all right, with fires burning. There is rising heat coming from the tops of both chimneys.”
Lady Catherine clicked her tongue. “Darcy, Darcy. How the mighty have fallen. I am thoroughly ashamed of you.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam flicked ash from his cigar and strode down to the dock. He stood at its end and gazed at the water.
Lady Catherine picked her way toward him. This was a perilous task for a woman her age, given the uneven state of the ground. It was with relief that she reached the dock.
Colonel Fitzwilliam continued to frown. “I wonder,” he said. “Why is the rowboat on this side of the lake?”
She attempted a laugh. “You’ll have to ask your cousin.”
“And what is that in the water, yonder?” He pointed. “It looks like fabric of some kind, white fabric with tailing ends. A shirt, perhaps?”
“What would a shirt be doing in the water? Shouldn’t Darcy be wearing it?”
“That is what I mean to find out. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Just a minute, young man. I am coming too.”
She saw him hesitate. “That might not be the best idea, ma’am. Who knows what we’ll find in there?”
“Why, Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, of course.”
“It could be vagrants. You know, gypsies and the like.”
“In this forsaken place? Don’t be silly. Everyone knows gypsies are thieves and robbers. Out here, there is no one to rob.”
“The boat on this side of the shore suggests the presence of others, who will likely return.”
“They shan’t return while we have the boat. Kindly do as you are told. I do not intend to be left behind.”
“Very well, ma’am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll have my pistol at the ready.”
“Good gracious, you don’t intend to shoot Darcy!”
“Why are you so convinced that he is within?”
This, of course, was unanswerable. “We are wasting time,” Lady Catherine announced. “Help me into the boat, Hudson.”
“As I’ve said before, ma’am, I prefer—”
“Yes, yes, I know. When you cease to act like a foolish schoolboy, perhaps I shall call you Richard. Although why you prefer that name is beyond me.”
