“She’s a girl, how much work—”
Elizabeth kicked Finn in the stomach.
He make an oomphing noise and the knife fell out of his hand.
If only her arms were free, she could grab it. She would have a weapon.
The man at her back, Eli, held her all the tighter, however. He stood up, bringing her with him. “Finn and I got her first.”
“I say we put it to a roll of the dice,” said one of the newcomers. “That’s fair, leaving it up to fate, that is.”
“We were here first,” said Finn, scooping the knife up off the floor. “She’s ours.” He put the knife in one of the other man’s faces. “And if you don’t like it, then I’ll cut out your eye.”
The man raised his arms in surrender. “Ah, very well, boys, let’s let them have the first poke, then. Her cunny’s not going anywhere, is it?”
The other men laughed in approval.
“Just be quick about it,” said one.
“Yeah, what are you doing?” said another.
“I was going to cut off her dress if you lot hadn’t stumbled in,” said Finn.
“Well, then do it,” said a newcomer.
And they all turned their gazes onto Elizabeth’s body.
She shut her eyes against it. Inside, she was started to shut herself down. Something bad was going to happen to her, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to feel much of it if she could help it. She had fought, and she had lost. Now, it was time to burrow inside, to take her mind away from what was happening, to go limp. She wouldn’t be part of this, not really. It would happen to her, but only to her body. She would take her spirit and hide it and protect it.
Finn grasped her bodice again, and she heard the sound of the knife going through the fabric.
But she didn’t feel the air on her as he bared it. She didn’t feel anything.
* * *
Someone was knocking on the door to his cabin, but Darcy didn’t care about that either.
“Cap’n!” called the voice of Mackie. “Cap’n, you awake?”
“Go away,” he whispered. But he might not have. He might have only thought it. It was difficult to lift any of his limbs now. He was tired.
Truly, if done properly, smoking opium could be energizing. But he hadn’t gone that route tonight. No, instead, he had smoked a lot, hoping for oblivion, for being blanketed in joy and welcoming, wondrous sleep.
At any rate, he wasn’t sure if he had spoken or not.
The banging was still happening, but it sounded far away, as if it was taking place in another world, the old world, where things were bright and sharp and painful, and Darcy didn’t have any desire to go back into that world.
The door burst open. “Cap’n!” Mackie was carrying a lantern, and it was bright.
Darcy shied away from it. “The devil take you, Jacob Mackie.”
Mackie strode across the room and dragged him to his feet. “You’ve been plundering the opium again, haven’t you, Cap’n?”
Darcy shoved him away. Now that he was standing, it was as if a spell had broken, and the real world was intruding again. “To hell with you, I’m serious.”
“It’s the girl, Cap’n. You took her out on the deck today and now the men are going after her.”
Darcy blinked, hard. “The girl.”
“The one you didn’t kill, sir. The one who’s been causing trouble ever since you let her on board, just as you thought she would?”
Darcy smacked his lips together. His mouth was dry. “Where’s my sword?”
“You’re in no state to wield it, if I do say so myself.”
He rubbed his face. “Fine, fine. Let’s…” He pointed at the door and staggered forward.
Mackie grabbed him, pulling an arm over his shoulder to support him.
Darcy shoved him off. “I don’t need that, man. I’m fine.” He took several more shaking steps before the business of how to walk seemed to return to him. Squaring his shoulders, he strode out of the cabin.
Mackie caught up to him. “Shouldn’t we be going a bit faster?”
“Are we going slowly?” But then he saw that the door to Miss Bennet’s cabin was open, and he heard the sound of laughter coming from within it.
The sound galvanized him, and he ran forward, seizing the first man he found inside the door and throwing him out. He pulled aside three men before he saw her.
She was pressed against the wall, her dress cut to her belly button, one of her breasts on display for anyone to see. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but he could see the terror etched into her expression.
“Stop!” he bellowed.
The men all turned to look at him and they cowered.
“Cap’n,” said Brown. “You can’t be angry with us, not truly. If you put a woman on board a ship like this, there’s no way that—”
“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” said Darcy. He turned and looked at each of the men, gazing into their eyes, cataloging the faces of those who had been involved.
Then he rushed to Miss Bennet, pulling the tatters of her dress over her body, covering her, and he lifted her into his arms.
The men scattered before him.
He didn’t look at them. He just carried her down the hallway and into his own cabin, where he shut the door and enclosed them both inside. He carried her to his bed and laid her there.
She didn’t move. She lay there, her eyes still squeezed shut.
“Miss Bennet,” he whispered.
“Mr. Darcy?” she said, slowly opening her eyes and looking around. “Where am I? Is it over already?” She looked down at her body, saw that her dress was still somewhat intact. She touched the place where it had been cut. “Oh. It didn’t happen, did it?”
“I think I got to you in time.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll kill them all in the morning.”
She sat up, and her dress gapped open.
He looked away.
She pulled it closed.
He handed her a blanket from the bed. “I would have killed them tonight, but the fact of the matter is, I’m not really at my best.” He looked around for a chair, found one, and sank into it.
She wrapped herself up in the blanket.
He leaned back, shutting his eyes. “If you want to take off the dress and just wrap up in the blanket, I won’t peek, I promise.” Even though he’d already seen— But he shook that thought off. It would be obscene to find Miss Bennet desirable under those circumstances, and he simply wasn’t going to allow himself to do it.
It was quiet for several minutes.
Then, her voice, unsteady, quiet. “Thank you.”
He yawned. “Don’t thank me, Miss Bennet. It’s all my fault you’re even being subjected to this.”
More silence. She didn’t contradict him.
He felt himself slipping off into an opium dream, the colors behind his eyelids swirling delectably. He smiled. Perfect. Well, except for the fact that this chair wasn’t that comfortable… But even that wasn’t much of a bother. He could ignore that discomfort, since he was being pumped full of the most joyous, ecstatic feelings.
“You can open your eyes now,” she murmured.
“That’s okay.” His chin was resting on his chest. He was vaguely aware that his voice sounded a little slurred, as if he’d been drugged. He chuckled to himself. That was the truth of it, actually.
“Are you all right?”
Oh, was she really going to keep talking? He forced himself to sit up, to open his eyes. “I am marvelous, Miss Bennet.” He stretched out the syllables in marvelous. He smiled at her. She was really beautiful in this light. Well, maybe that was the opium talking.
No, she was a beautiful woman. She had lovely wrists. They were so delicate and small. And her neck, it was long and graceful, and he could imagine that it would be quite a nice thing to brush his fingers over her chin, and feather them over that graceful neck. And then let them dip lower, down over her collarbone, to her…
He flashed on her naked breast.
He shook himself. No. He wasn’t going to think about that. He shouldn’t have seen it. She had been terrified, and taking pleasure in her molestation was disgusting.
He held up a finger. “I’m going to go lie down.” He pointed to his cushions, where the opium pipe was still out, next to the lamp. “Over there.”
“You’ve been smoking opium,” she said, her voice one of understanding dawning.
He laughed softly, getting to his feet. God, it was hell standing. He stumbled to the cushions and threw himself down on his back. He gazed up at the ceiling. That was better.
Her voice carried. “Once I hurt my arm rather badly, and I was given laudanum, and it was… very nice. Is smoking opium the same at all?”
He laughed again. “Oh, laudanum is nothing compared to smoking, Miss Bennet. Laudanum is a smudgy shadow of the excellence that can be obtained if one knows what he’s about.”
She didn’t say anything.
He raised his head to look at her.
She looked like a refugee, younger than her years, huddled on his bed with the blanket clutched around her shoulders.
“You can sleep, you know,” he said. “I’ll be over here, and no one will bother you in my cabin.” He shut his eyes again.
It was quiet again for a long stretch, and he sunk into himself again, into a world of color and pleasure, soft and wonderful.
“Mr. Darcy?” came her voice, cutting through it.
“What?” he groaned. “And don’t call me that.”
“Are you quite sure that no one will come in here?”
“Very sure, madam.”
“What if they did? Would you wake up?”
He struggled to sit up. He pointed. “Do you see that there? My dagger, hanging?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Why don’t we say that’s your dagger from now on, hmm? Sleep curled around it, and if anyone should disturb you, stab him with it.” He flopped back on the cushion, and it was as if a soft, warm open mouth swallowed him whole.
If she said more, he didn’t hear it. He was lost to his pleasure.
* * *
When Elizabeth awoke, she was tangled in the blankets of Darcy’s bed. She struggled to sit up, still keeping herself covered, because she wasn’t wearing anything. The tatters of her dress were lying on the ground.
She was alone in Darcy’s cabin.
There was a window on the far side of the room—a small round thing up near the ceiling. Bright light was streaming inside. It must be late morning from the look of it.
Elizabeth pulled the dagger that Darcy had given her out from underneath the pillow, and then she stood up, wrapping a blanket around her. It trailed on the ground as she made her way back to her room.
She surveyed the room in wonder. There was no sign that anything terrible had happened to her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but she supposed that part of her had thought that the place would be marked somehow, ruined by the awfulness of what had nearly taken place.
But that was silly, she supposed.
She shut the door tightly and rummaged through her trunk for something else to wear. It was ridiculous having all these evening dresses. No one here cared whether she was wearing long sleeves or short, and she hadn’t touched her gloves since India. She yanked something on, missing having a maid to help her dress, and then she tucked the dagger, safe in its little sheath, inside the front of her bodice.
Having it made her feel safer.
She looked around the room.
If she were smart, she supposed, she would hole up in here, hiding away from the men who had threatened her, but she didn’t think she could quite bear it in here. There might be no sign of what happened, but that didn’t mean that she liked it in this dark, onion-smelling room, cut off like a prisoner.
She touched the dagger, felt its cold hardness.
And she walked down the hallway, free.
She had a weapon. She could kill them all. She could start with Darcy and stick them all in the throat, let them bleed out—
But she wasn’t at all sure that she could manage that. She remembered how she had struggled against the men last night, how they were so strong when she was fighting with everything she had.
And if she killed Darcy, who would stop the men if she couldn’t?
Well, perhaps she wouldn’t kill him. Perhaps she would just keep the dagger and only use it if anyone came close again. Ever.
She emerged into the hold, an open space. Steps leading to the higher decks were in the middle of the room, and she heard a voice filtering down from above.
Darcy.
“…appalled at these men’s behavior, and if I find that anyone else threatens Miss Bennet, you’ll be dealt with in the same way.”
She started up the steps. His voice grew louder and clearer.
“We are going to China, as I’ve told you, and there will be women for everyone. We’ll stop at one of those Flower Boats in Canton for three whole days if it means I don’t have to worry about this kind of business.”
She got to the top of the steps and was on the next level. Another set of steps would take her to the main deck. She began to climb.
“You are men, not animals,” Darcy was saying. “And there is no reason that you should behave so. You can control yourselves if you set your mind to it. There is absolutely no excuse for this despicable activity.”
A splash.
She got to the top of the steps and came out on the main deck. The sky was blue, dotted with tiny white clouds. The water matched the sky, and she pulled in a long draught of sea air.
Another splash.
She turned, and then she saw that Darcy was standing in front of all of the men on the ship, who were gathered, looking solemn.
In front of them were five headless bodies.
Darcy was kicking them over board, rolling them under the bottom rung of the railing.
Another splash.
“So,” he said to the assembled men. “We’re clear, then?”
There was no response from the men.
Darcy turned, and he caught sight of her. He gestured. “Well, Miss Bennet, there you are.” He turned back to the men. “It shouldn’t be a problem for Miss Bennet to walk freely on the ship, should it?”
None of the men were looking at her.
“Oh, come now,” said Darcy. “You all have mothers. Sisters. Think how you would feel if one of them were trapped on this ship in the way that Miss Bennet is.”
“There won’t be any problem, Cap’n,” spoke up one of the men, raising his gaze. “I think we all understand what will happen if there is.”
“Good,” said Darcy, giving another of the bodies a kick.
Splash.
He smiled at Elizabeth. “It’s a pity, though, I must say, Miss Bennet. One of these men was the cook. I don’t suppose you know how to cook?”
“Me?” she squeaked. The entire scene was too macabre to fathom. The dead men—where were their heads?—the casualness of Darcy’s demeanor as he disposed of their remains, the silent men who looked on. What was this place that she had been thrust into? What kind of barbaric world was she trapped in?
“I thought not,” said Darcy, sighing. “They never teach gentlewomen in England anything useful.”
“I can cook, sir,” spoke up one of the men.
“Yes, I suppose you’ll have to do,” said Darcy, kicking the last few of the bodies overboard, one after the other. He clutched the railing and peered down into the depths, watching them sink. “And when we get back to India, perhaps we can pick up a few more hands.” He waved carelessly at the men. “All right, back to work then. Show’s over.”
The men began to scatter, mumbling to each other, casting glances at her. They didn’t look pleased.
Darcy wandered over to her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
She parted her lips, but no sound came out.
�
��Told you I’d kill them for you.”
“For me?” She shook her head. She didn’t know if she wanted these men’s blood on her hands.
He sighed. “There’s really no pleasing you, is there?” He chuckled and went by her, leaving her there alone on the deck, in the brilliant sun and the fresh air.
CHAPTER FIVE
“You can’t stay on the ship alone,” said Darcy. “Besides, you must be hungry.”
Elizabeth stared out over the city of Canton, which looked to her like a labyrinth of canals and boats, almost the way she imagined Venice might look. She’d never been to Italy, of course, but she had read stories about that city, about the streets made of water, and this looked somewhat like that, buildings jutting up out of the ocean with docks lining the front of them, boats floating down the waterways.
And in front of them, the place where Darcy said they were going, was a mass of boats, all tied together. It looked like a huge house floating on the water, brightly colored paper lanterns hanging from the shallow slopes of the roofs. They were called Flower Boats, apparently, but Elizabeth didn’t know what that meant or why they were called that. She didn’t see any flowers.
“They have food there?” She didn’t see any food either.
“Among other things,” he said. “It’s not what they are well-known for, but it is possible to get food there. I have been to this place before, and I assure you, I won’t steer you wrong.”
“But you said that the men would find women here,” she said, eyeing him. “This Flower Boat, it is really a house of ill repute, isn’t it? A brothel. And you want to take me there.”
He sighed. “The port of Canton, Miss Bennet, is hardly a place for a proper English lady. As for the whores, I can’t see why they’d bother you. A bit of bare female flesh must be something you’re accustomed to seeing on occasion, or do you shut your eyes when you dress?”
She glared at him. “I hardly think I’ll be welcome.”
“You can’t stay on the ship alone.”
She looked around the deck. The men had all left already, singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs as they rowed away on the lifeboats. She would be quite alone here, it was true. And she was hungry. But this was awful.
The Dread Mr. Darcy Page 5
