A Matter of Honor

by Abigail Reynolds

  “In there.” This time it was her bandit.

  A lantern appeared in the doorway, seeming so bright after all the hours of darkness that Elizabeth threw her hand up in front of her eyes to block the glare. Above her hand the light reflected on the housekeeper’s lined face.

  At the moment she was the most comforting sight Elizabeth could imagine. “Mrs. MacLaren.”

  “Miss Merton? Oh, you poor dear. Ye must be ever so cold. And is this the poor gentleman?” Mrs. MacLaren leaned over Darcy. She turned back over her shoulder and called, “Bring in the blankets first!”

  Big Tom entered, so thoroughly bundled in a coat, scarf, and hat that she could not have recognized him except by his size. He carried a pile of thick woolens.

  “Put one over the poor gentleman, and give one to me for Miss Merton.”

  Like a child in the nursery, Elizabeth allowed Mrs. MacLaren to wrap her in a thick, scratchy blanket. Her back ached from sitting on the floor so long, and she thought she might never be warm again.

  “There, that will warm ye.” The housekeeper picked up the lantern and inspected the small room. “Oh, Mr. Jack,” she said reproachfully.

  The bandit, apparently Mr. Jack, stood just inside the blanket doorway, leaning against the wall. “It is sufficient to my needs.”

  Mrs. MacLaren snorted. “Our animals are housed better. Nae wonder ye would not let any of us come here. Your granny’s ghost will haunt me for this!”

  Did Mr. Jack smile a little? “Nay, she’s too busy haunting me for all my evil deeds.”

  “As well she should! Big Tom, some coal on that fire, if ye please.”

  Mrs. MacLaren bustled out, returning after a minute with a covered basket which she set down beside Elizabeth. “Food for ye. Cold meat, bread, cheese, and wine. Ye eat it now, do you hear?”

  “I hear,” said Elizabeth with a weak smile. “Mr. Jack, will you join me?”

  “I ate in the kitchen,” he said flatly.

  “Aye, because I made him!” Mrs. MacLaren left again. How many bundles had she brought?

  “’Tis a rare fury she is in,” remarked Mr. Jack, his Scottish accent more pronounced than it had been before.

  Elizabeth began digging in the basket, her stomach grumbling. She found a wedge of white cheese and bit into it, savoring the tangy flavor. After she swallowed, she asked, “In a fury with me?”

  “I believe we share the honors, though I am perhaps in the lead now.”

  “I did not truly expect you to go to Kinloch for supplies.”

  “I did not plan to. You came very close to dying tonight,” he said coolly.

  She choked on the cheese. “I thought you were going to shoot me,” she admitted. “I should not have insisted on staying.”

  “I left to find a good spot to push you over the cliff,” he continued as if she had said nothing. “I even made finger grooves in the sod to make it look as if you had tried to save yourself.”

  She shivered. “Thank you for changing your mind,” she said in a small voice.

  “This is not a game I am playing here. Remember that.” He stared down his beaked nose at her.

  She nodded. “But you have not always been a highwayman. Were you an apothecary before?”

  His mouth twisted. “No. And that is enough questions.”

  Mrs. MacLaren returned again, this time with a pillow and another basket. She slid the pillow under Mr. Darcy’s head, her movements gentle. Her words were anything but gentle, though. “Nan will watch over the gentleman through the night. Miss Merton will return to the house with me. And ye, Mr. Jack! Some of the men ye saved will be up here tomorrow morning to chink your walls and build ye a chimney, and ye will let them.” She stabbed her finger at him with each of the last words.

  “It is unnecessary,” he said icily.

  “It is necessary to their self-respect! Ye saved them when they were helpless, and now ye will act the part of your father’s son and let them repay a little of their debt so they can hold their heads up high for their last years. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you.” He sounded as if he were gritting his teeth.

  Mrs. MacLaren did not even acknowledge his words. “Nan, here’s the gentleman. Ye know what to do. Now come, Miss Merton.”

  Elizabeth cast a last glance at Darcy. Part of her wanted to insist on staying, but she could do more for him tomorrow if she slept. Besides, Mr. Jack’s emotionless recital of his plans to kill her had shaken her badly.

  She pushed aside the blanket door and stepped out into the moonlit night. The fresh air was a relief after the smoky interior, but she felt a tug of regret at leaving Darcy behind.

  Mrs. MacLaren thrust a lantern into her hands. “Ye carry that to light your way. We can see the path well enough by moonlight.”

  Elizabeth held the lantern in one gloved hand. She must remember to switch hands from time to time or her fingers would freeze. She had left her muff on Mr. Darcy’s hands.

  Chapter 10

  IT WAS NEARLY THE MIDDLE of the short Scottish winter day when Elizabeth arrived back at the ruined keep to a very different scene. Outside the walls two elderly men toiled with shovels, apparently searching for rocks. Inside the keep, Mr. Jack was listening intently to another old man while a younger one paced off an area beside his hut. No less than three Highland ponies stood in the corner.

  Elizabeth nodded to Mr. Jack before she ducked inside. Changes had been made there as well. A boy was filling the chinks in the wall with some sort of paste, and fresh straw had been strewn over the dirt floor. Mrs. MacLaren was nothing if not efficient.

  Mr. Darcy lay still with his eyes closed. The jagged cut on his forehead stood out vividly against his pale skin. Elizabeth’s heart sank. “How is he?” she asked the servant seated beside him.

  “As well as he can be. He moves from time to time.”

  He did not look uncomfortable, at least. It was less painful to see him lying there now that his head rested on a pillow, but his bruised and swollen face broke her heart. “Thank you. I will stay with him now if you wish to return to Kinloch.”

  “Better I remain here, miss. The menfolk will need to eat. Mrs. MacLaren sent the makings for tea, too, if ye would like some.”

  “Tea would be utterly delightful.” It seemed unimaginably luxurious in this barren place. “I do not know your name, although I assume it must be MacLaren.”

  “Nay, I’m a Campbell, miss. Peggy Campbell. I came from the other side of the ridge, but now I live at Kinloch.”

  Elizabeth settled herself on the floor next to Mr. Darcy as the woman placed a covered kettle among the coals. It was a little warmer today with the larger fire, but still chilly enough that Elizabeth felt no desire to remove her cloak. Mrs. Campbell had been sitting in a small wooden chair that must have come from Kinloch, but it would not feel right to be so far above Darcy. Sitting at his side felt right.

  And so wrong. She was supposed to be staying far away from Darcy. That was the only reason she had left Edinburgh. What was she doing, seeking out his company? But she could not stop herself. Something had changed, and now she had to be with him. She did not understand it, but there was no choice. And if there were any chance her presence might bring him even the slightest bit of comfort, she could not bear to be anywhere else.

  She could not take her eyes from his face, even though the sight of his injuries and his helplessness made her chest painfully tight. How had they ended up here? He had fallen so far from the proud, finely dressed figure she had first seen at the Meryton assembly, and it was all because of her. Well, not just because of her. Running off had not been her choice.

  A cup of tea appeared in front of her. “Here ye go, miss.”

  The mere sound of a kind voice and the miracle of hot tea made tears burn in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Thank you.” She set the saucer aside so she could wrap her cold fingers around the warm cup.

  “Unless ye need me here, miss, I’ll take some out to the men and see if I can do anyt
hing to help them,” said Mrs. Campbell.

  “I do not need anything.” Except for Darcy to open his eyes and look at her with that slight smile she remembered so well. But that was not going to happen, and she would not deserve it if it did.

  Mrs. Campbell wrapped herself in a thick cloak and carried a tray with the teapot outside. Elizabeth could hear her voice chatting with the workers. That thick Scottish burr had sounded so foreign to her when she first arrived, but now she hardly noticed it. If she ever returned to Longbourn, would the people there sound strange to her now?

  She reached out to touch Darcy’s cheek, drawing back quickly when he stirred. Without opening his eyes, his hand moved jerkily, patting the opposite side of his chest as if searching for something he thought should be there. His eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

  Elizabeth caught her breath. “Are you looking for something, Mr. Darcy?”

  He mumbled something inaudible. Surely it had to be a good sign that he was trying to speak.

  She leaned close to him. “What did you say?”

  “Mark,” he muttered.

  “Mark? What kind of mark? Or do you mean someone named Mark?” she asked.

  “Book. Mark.” Saying the words seemed to exhaust him.

  Bookmark. He must have had the bookmark she made him in his coat pocket. A flush of heat rose in her chest. Even only half conscious, the first thing he wanted was her bookmark. She did not deserve such devotion. “It is not here,” she prevaricated. She would make him a new one. And she would not start crying again. She would not.

  He made a sound that might have been a reply if his mouth had not been so dry.

  She dipped a clean cloth in her tea. “Open your mouth,” she instructed. When he obeyed, she slid the wet part of the cloth between his lips.

  He sucked on it, his eyes still closed. “More.”

  She dipped it in the tea three more times before he seemed satisfied. Leaning towards him again, she asked, “Do you want anything else?”

  His eyes opened again and met hers. “Just you,” he whispered, and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  AN HOUR OR TWO LATER, Darcy finally shifted and turned his head to face her. His eyes did not open, but she could not resist laying her fingers on his cheek. “Mr. Darcy?” It was worth a try.

  His eyelids fluttered open, and he seemed to focus his gaze on her.

  “Are you awake?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Elizabeth?” He sounded hoarse, but his speech was much clearer and sounded altogether wonderful.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad.” The knot of tension inside her began to unravel.

  He looked from side to side. “Where am I?”

  She beamed at him. “In a ruined old hill fort. You were attacked and robbed on the road. They took your coat and boots and left you unconscious. A man found you before you froze and brought you here.”

  His brow creased. “But how do you come to be here?”

  She could not help laughing, giddy with relief. “I stumbled across you as a result of being impertinent, difficult, and refusing to accept good advice.”

  He smiled slightly. “That sounds like you.” He raised his head, winced, and set it back on the pillow.

  “Does your head hurt?”

  He touched his scalp. “Like someone is smashing it with a hammer.”

  “Be careful. You were hit there, and the wound is not closed. But you must be thirsty after all this time.”

  “Parched.”

  “I have some tea here – cold, like everything else – and I think there is a bottle of wine somewhere.”

  “Even cold tea would taste good at the moment.”

  She poured a cup of tea. “Do you think you could sit up if I helped you?”

  “I can manage.” With a wince, he propped himself up on his elbows, gritting his teeth. He took three quick swallows and collapsed back on the pillow, one hand rubbing his forehead. “Where did you say I am?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “An old hill fort in the Highlands. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

  “Yes,” he croaked. “You can tell me what I did to make you hate me.” His eyelids sagged, as if the sentence had exhausted him.

  “I do not hate you! Not at all!”

  He pressed his lips together, then said, “You chose to be ruined rather than marry me.”

  Elizabeth rocked back on her heels. She had never considered what Darcy might think of her decision to leave her family rather than to turn to him, since that had never been the choice she faced. Still, if he truly loved her, it must have hurt him deeply. But how could she reassure him without telling him the truth? “I do not hate you,” she said hesitantly. “I never did. If I had truly faced ruination, of course I would have accepted your offer.”

  “But you did not. You left instead.”

  She shook her head, trying to choose her words carefully. “There was not any gossip when I left. I had to choose between leaving my family or allowing them to suffer certain consequences, including ruining my reputation. Until you told me, I did not know the scandal had reached Meryton, and that my departure had not protected my family after all.”

  “Why leave if there was no gossip?” He sounded bewildered.

  She bit her lip until it hurt. “I cannot explain it to you, nor tell you why, and I beg of you not to ask me any more. The important part is that I did not leave rather than marry you.”

  His face seemed to relax. “Good. Too much. You, and Bingley, and then Jasper. Nothing.”

  “I do not understand.” What did she have in common with the two men?

  “You...would rather lose everything than marry me. Bingley tossed away our friendship. Jasper wanted nothing to do with me. I thought he liked me, but that was only when he needed me.” Deep lines were etched by his mouth.

  “Jasper does like you. He said you were a very decent sort, accepting and loyal. It is just that seeing you reminds him of a time when he was very unhappy.” She did not know why it was so important for him to understand that, but it was. “Bingley was wrong, and I imagine he knows it by now. Jane knows that you proposed and gave me the letter.”

  Darcy’s mouth twisted. “Bingley did not believe me.”

  She could fill in the rest for herself after what he had told her at Christmas. “No, he did not, and he should have known better.”

  His eyes were almost closed. “Bingley,” he mumbled.

  “What about him?”

  He started to shake his head, but stopped with a wince. It must have hurt. Why had she kept him talking for so long?

  “You should rest. We can talk more later.”

  His eyes flew open and peered at her anxiously. “Later?”

  “Yes, later,” she said firmly. “I will stay here, and if I have to leave for the night, I will return. You will have plenty of time to speak to me.”

  “Mmm.” At least he sounded happier.

  WHEN DARCY BEGAN TO doze, Elizabeth sought out the highwayman. Cold air struck her face when she pushed past the blanket door. The larger fire had made more of a difference in the temperature inside than she had thought.

  Three old men were working together on what appeared to be a new wall, or perhaps the back of a chimney, but she did not see her highwayman there. She approached them tentatively. “Pardon me. I am looking for Mr. Jack. Is he here?”

  The nearest man touched his forelock. “Aye, miss, just t’other side of the wall.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth followed his pointing finger around the end of the ruined wall.

  The highwayman was heaving stone blocks into a wheelbarrow. “Yes, Miss Merton?” he said wearily, but it was clearly her presence rather than stones that wearied him.

  “He is awake.”

  “I thought he would be soon,” he said coldly. He bent his knees and lifted another stone, blowing out his breath with the effort.

  Yes, he was definitely angry at her. “What ransom are you pl
anning to ask for him?”

  He looked as if he had tasted something sour. “What difference does that make?”

  “It will take weeks at best to get a ransom from England. If I guarantee to pay the ransom if they do not, would you allow me to take him to Kinloch to recover?”

  He crossed his arms and glared at her. “How do you suppose I can hold him for ransom when a dozen people now know where he is and can tell him how to get away?” He spoke as if explaining the obvious to a particularly backwards child. “That was the cost of letting you live.”

  She had not expected that. “But all of those people are loyal to you.”

  “Loyal enough to hang for my sake? I think not.”

  She lifted her chin. “In that case, I owe you the ransom.”

  His lip curled. “Miss Merton, why do you insist on pretending I am an honorable man?”

  She crossed her arms to show she could be as stubborn as he could. “I do not know why you have undertaken to be a highwayman, but I know one thing: you are doing it to benefit someone else.”

  “And how did you arrive at that interesting conclusion?” he asked icily.

  Her temper began to slip. “Am I to believe your ill-gotten gains go to support your luxurious lifestyle?”

  He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Perhaps I am simply a very bad highwayman. No more questions.” He turned his back on her.

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth in frustration. She would have to approach him again later.

  DARCY PUSHED HIMSELF up enough to take a sip of the tea Elizabeth had left for him. He had to gather his strength to get to his feet. His needs must be attended to in Elizabeth’s absence. It was embarrassing enough to know she had seen him in his shirtsleeves and cared for him when he was unconscious.

  The tea moistened his parched mouth but only worsened the hammering inside his skull. Somehow he managed to sit up anyway. His empty stomach protested as he struggled to keep the few sips of tea down.

  Dammit. He needed something to hold onto if he wanted to stand. Gritting his teeth, he leaned over to drag the chair nearer. Bracing his hands on the seat, he pushed himself to his knees and waited until the room was no longer spinning. God, if only his head would stop pounding!