by Jan Hahn
“Are not the musicians talented? I have rarely heard such able completion of—”
“Elizabeth.” He twirled me around and stepped away.
I took Mr. Whitby’s hand and bowed in time to the rhythm before turning back to face Mr. Darcy. “Sir?”
“In your lifetime, have you ever, just once, danced without speaking?”
I glared at him as we clasped hands and stepped down the line. “Naturally. I simply—”
“Then, I pray you, bestow that favour upon me. Let us do nothing more than dance.”
We circled the last couple in line and faced each other. Oh! The man was impossible! Very well. I would not tell him if the house caught fire. I gritted my teeth and determined to complete the set, but only because I refused to call attention to myself by leaving the floor abruptly. But I would not enjoy it. Oh no, I would not enjoy one moment.
And then Mr. Darcy took my hands and whirled me around and around. I inhaled sharply as the tempo increased, but I matched him step for step. He stared into my eyes with a ferocity I recalled from our first dance together at Netherfield. I refused to cower but met his gaze fully. But why…why must he incline his head so near? The scent of his skin intoxicated me. And he must not allow his hands to caress my shoulders when we clasped each other to descend the line. Was it my imagination? No, I knew his hands lingered longer, much longer, than needed.
This would never do. The melody enchanted me, and I felt myself caught up in the fascination of dancing with him. All those feelings I had earlier confessed to God now flooded my heart, and I knew I was lost. I had not forgotten the spell he could weave over me. In spite of all my declarations and determination, I had not overcome the delight I experienced at his slightest touch. I loved him, but not with a sister’s love. And I never wanted our dance to end.
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That night, I did not close my eyes. Before dawn, I determined to leave Pemberley posthaste and return to Longbourn. I knew I could no longer stay in the same house with Mr. Darcy.
Chapter Seven
The post rumbled along the road outside Lambton with such jarring jolts that it set my teeth on edge. The driver seemed to possess innate knowledge of where each stone lay in our path, and I wondered whether he took mischievous delight in bouncing us up and down. How quickly I had accustomed myself to the comfort of Mr. Darcy’s carriage! The public conveyance possessed neither the luxurious padding nor spaciousness of his vehicle. Three fellow passengers—a woman and two older men—shared the coach, forcing an intimacy I found oppressive. One of them, evidently, had not bathed for some time, and I kept my nose as close to the open window as permitted. The bleak, overcast skies without matched the grimness of the interior as well as my frame of mind.
I had slipped out of the house without notice in the pre-dawn darkness. Knowing that the family would rise late because of the previous evening’s ball, I hoped the servants would be too busy to observe my departure. They had orders not to awaken any of us early, so I felt assured that I might make my escape without detection.
The five-mile walk to Lambton proved much more arduous than I expected, for the countryside possessed numerous inclines. I had packed my essentials in one small, light valise, but it grew heavy before I reached the town. In a brief note addressed to Mr. Darcy and Georgiana that I had left on my pillow, I told them I was leaving because I missed my family and Longbourn too much to remain at Pemberley.
While awaiting the arrival of the post in Lambton, I could not sit still. Fortunately, it ran on an early schedule that day, so we departed before ten in the morning. My head pounded by the time the horses worked themselves into a good speed. I took a deep breath and leaned back on the seat, realizing for the first time that I had clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. My nerves felt ready to crumble, and I struggled not to show my emotion. It would not do to expose myself in public, for I needed no offers of assistance that, naturally, would involve questions.
Misery possessed me. Why had I ever entertained the thought that I might visit Pemberley? It had all been a mistake, an impossible endeavour, a foolish, foolish dream. I would never be able to think of Mr. Darcy as my brother. Dancing one dance with him had dashed that illusion. I knew I must return to Longbourn and avoid ever seeing him again. I would never be Miss Darcy; I had no right. I would never have a place at my true father’s table. I would be forced to make a new life with someone else and in some other home.
Although my friend Charlotte had in the past accused me of being romantic, I did possess a practical side. I acknowledged that I must marry, and since I could never marry the man I loved, I would return to Longbourn and make myself agreeable to any man I could respect. As long as he proved honourable and kind, I would endure the union.
Why had I not remained at Pemberley then and allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam to propose? I closed my eyes at the thought. Yes, he possessed excellent qualifications, but there was his connection with Mr. Darcy. I could not bear to think I would enter into a marriage where I was certain to be cast into his company. The idea was intolerable! ’Twould be better even to marry a farmer, and after all, was that not a more suitable match for one born as the result of a dishonourable situation?
My girlish dreams of a loving union had tumbled to the ground as quickly as the mist now falling outside the coach. I leaned my head against the side of the carriage and closed my eyes, hoping I might sleep and never waken.
I know not how long I slept, but I did awaken with abruptness. Amid shouts from without, the coach halted quickly.
“What’s happenin’?” The woman beside me grabbed her basket and clutched it to her chest. “It’s not the highwaymen, is it? Oh, pray, don’t let it be highwaymen!”
Our two male companions rose and peered out each window of the coach. I drew back from the man nearest me, for my nose identified him as the person in need of a bath. Within moments, we heard the driver shout again and the distinct tone of a gentleman contradict him. I closed my eyes in dismay, for I could not fail to recognize the voice.
“I tell you she is my cousin,” Mr. Darcy said. “Whether she purchased her fare under the name Bennet is immaterial. The lady is a guest at Pemberley, and I would never allow her to travel unattended in a public coach. I demand you release her to my care without delay.”
“She never said she was from Pemberley, sir,” the coachman answered. He opened the door and pushed back the man who hung halfway out the window. I shrank back when he offered his hand to assist me. “Come on, miss. Your cousin’s here to take you home.”
“No, I shall not go with him. I bought a pass for Hertfordshire. It is paid for, and I have the right to travel on this coach.”
He looked back at Mr. Darcy, who dismounted and strode toward the carriage with a determined step. “Come, Elizabeth. Do not delay this good man’s journey.”
“I shall not. I am returning to Longbourn.”
“Sir,” the driver said. “If she don’t want to go with you, perhaps it’s best to let her be. I’ll see she gets to her destination safely.”
Mr. Darcy’s brows knit together into a single, fierce line as he turned upon the driver and informed him what he could do to his coach, his career, and his liberty if he persisted in abducting his cousin.
“Abductin’? I ain’t about nothin’ like that, sir. The lady paid her money.”
“If you do not release her to my care, I shall see you charged with seizure. My cousin is under my protection, and I have not relinquished it to you or anyone else.”
The man yielded under Mr. Darcy’s severity and drew back while my companions looked aghast. I knew no one would take my side against a man of his stature. He held out his hand, but instead of taking it, I shoved my valise at him. I then climbed out of the coach without his assistance, flinging myself away when he reached out to me.
“Do you want us to wait, miss?” the coachman asked.
“I told you she is under my protection.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was rigid and insistent.
/> “But the mist, sir. I fear the weather’s ’bout to turn nasty.”
“I shall see to her. Be on your way.”
With a final hesitant look in my direction, the driver slammed the passenger door shut and climbed aboard to his seat. Within moments, I watched my only means of escape lumber down the road.
I turned and glared at Mr. Darcy. “I hope you are satisfied.” Seizing my valise, I gripped it close to my chest like a shield and whirled around, taking resolute steps to follow the post.
“Do you propose to walk to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth?”
“You leave me no other choice.”
“I have a horse, or are you so blinded with anger you cannot see it?”
“You know I am no horsewoman, and do not suggest I ride with you because I refuse.”
“Very well. I shall walk and lead the horse while you ride.”
I shook my head and continued on, taking pains to lengthen my stride.
“You are behaving like a child.”
“Am I? Does that entitle you to assert yourself like a father? Never have I been so publicly shamed. I shall not forgive you.”
“Publicly? In front of those common folk?” He snorted his disdain. “And if we are to speak of shame, how do you think I appeared before my servants, much less my cousin and sister, when I was told you had run off in the night?”
I stopped and faced him. “I did not run off in the night. It was morning. Am I not a free woman? Do I not possess control over my own person? Am I not permitted to come and go as I please? Evidently not in your house, sir. I would never have travelled to Pemberley with you if I had known I would be held there against my will!”
“No one is holding you against your will.”
“Come now, Mr. Darcy, any fool can see you have just removed me from the only means I possessed to return home. If that is not holding me against my will, what is?”
“Travelling by post is not the only way you may return to Longbourn. It is an unthinking, dangerous choice. You are well aware that young ladies of breeding do not travel alone. All you had to do was tell me you wished to leave. My carriage would have been at your disposal. If you had considered this indefensible decision carefully, you would see that I carry the point.”
Thunder rumbled nearby, and the mist suddenly turned into fully developed raindrops. I glanced at the sky, lowered my head, and left him standing in the road. I had not walked a few steps before the rain grew even heavier and began to pelt my head and shoulders severely.
“Elizabeth, you cannot walk to the next town. Let me put you on the horse, for we must take cover from this storm.”
“No.” I refused to slow my pace or look back at him. I knew my actions were senseless, but I no longer cared. I only wished to escape his presence.
A flash of lightning bolted across the sky, and thunder bellowed so loudly that I ducked my head. Rain increased without pity, and I felt water trickle down inside my gown. Another lightning strike proved near enough that I cried aloud in fear.
“Come, we must find shelter,” Mr. Darcy commanded. He placed both hands on my waist and steered me across the road toward the woods. “Look, there is a bit of a shed before us.”
I could see nothing for the vehemence of the storm. Water streamed down my face and clouded my vision. Where was he taking me? We began to run until we reached a ditch already filling with water. Before I knew it, Mr. Darcy lifted me up into his arms and jumped the ditch, the horse following close behind. He climbed the slight incline and carried me into what appeared to be the remains of a hut. It had but three walls standing. The roof, however, hung over enough to provide some measure of protection.
“This is not substantial, I admit,” Mr. Darcy said.
Of a sudden, we both seemed aware that he still held me. I was clinging to his neck, and the look that passed between his eyes and mine said more than words. Immediately, he released me to a standing position, and I averted my face. With one hand, I straightened my gown and pelisse while still clutching the valise close to my breast. He removed his hat and shook off the water. Glancing around, he pulled an old bench forward, dusted it off with his hand, and indicated I should sit.
“I shall stand,” I said. “The storm cannot last long.”
“And then what? Shall you persist in this stubborn pattern of yours?”
“I have no other recourse. You have seen to that.”
“You can return to Pemberley with me, change into dry clothing before you become ill, and if you insist, I will take you back to Longbourn first thing on the morrow.”
“No.”
“No? Is that the only reply I am to have? Why must you drive me to distraction with your ill behaviour?”
My ill behaviour? How the man provoked me! I turned my back on him and walked to the far edge of the shelter, staring out as the wind arose and stirred the trees. We said nothing more for some time, but I heard him begin to pace back and forth like a wild animal longing to be loosed. I thought of our coupling in the dance the night before and how my senses quickened when he touched me. For all his elegance, his upright demeanour, his superior, gentlemanly composure, I knew…I knew there was a primitive, untamed side to Mr. Darcy that he kept hidden from the world. He will unleash it someday, I thought. Chills ran up my spine at the idea, and a fire welled up from deep within me.
But not with me. I would never have more than the glimpse I had witnessed last night. He could never reveal that wild, passionate nature to me. It would be reserved for the woman he loved, if not the one he eventually took in marriage. It could not be me. Our father had seen to that. Suddenly, I hated George Darcy. Why? Why had life conspired against us in this unthinkable manner?
“Elizabeth, you are trembling.”
I felt his hands on my shoulders as he turned me around to face him. I kept my eyes lowered, and I hoped he thought the tears that spilled down my cheeks were nothing more than the remains of the rain. He took off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. “Come and sit down. Pray, do not weep. The storm is moving past.”
I did as he said while he sat beside me holding my hand. “I want to go home, sir,” I said softly.
“First thing tomorrow.”
I shook my head. “I want to go today.”
“Elizabeth, you cannot go in this condition. Let us return to Pemberley, and I promise I shall take you back in the morning.”
“No. I wish to go today…alone.”
“I cannot allow you to travel alone. You know the journey will require you to stay overnight at roadside inns. It is not safe.”
“Send a maid along with your manservant. That will be sufficient.”
I kept my face turned away from his, but he lifted my chin so that he might see into my eyes, and I trembled again at the tenderness of his touch.
“Why do you insist that I not accompany you?”
Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet his. “Pray, do not ask me.”
His eyes held mine much longer than they should, and then they travelled down to my lips, and I watched him struggle to conquer the yearning that seemed to possess him. He tore his eyes from me, closing them as though he were in pain, and I saw him press his lips together while a great sigh escaped his guarded restraint. When he opened his eyes, he appeared as one haunted. Bowing his head in agreement, he released my hand and rose from the bench.
Within three-quarters of an hour, the storm stilled, and Mr. Darcy’s carriage arrived. Upon departing Pemberley, he had ordered his coachmen to follow, but he had raced ahead of them from Lambton once he learned I had boarded the post. He had even thought to bring my maid, and she hastened to cover my shoulders with a dry shawl once I climbed into the carriage.
“There has been a change in plans,” Mr. Darcy instructed his driver. “Do not return to Pemberley. Take Miss Bennet to her home in Hertfordshire.”
He went on to give his servant sufficient funds to cover expenses for several days of travel and explicit instructions for my care and prot
ection during the trip. When finished, he directed the maid to withdraw from the coach while he bade me farewell. Sitting on the seat across from me, he leaned forward and took my hands in his once again, smiling slightly.
“All is arranged. Stratton is to be trusted as well as the footmen. You may rely upon them with confidence.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you write to me?”
I shook my head.
“To Georgiana?”
“Of course, if she wishes.”
“You know she will.”
I looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Elizabeth, I…”
“Sir, I pray you say nothing more.”
He turned his eyes to the window, and in doing so, he sighed deeply. “Then let us say farewell, and God bless you, Elizabeth.” He raised my hands to his lips, and I caught my breath at the tenderness of his kiss.
“And you, sir,” I murmured.
With that, he bounded from the coach, the maid climbed aboard, and we set off. Although I tried not to look back, I could not keep myself from turning and waving to him from the window. He stood in the road, his hat in his hand, but he did not wave in return.
As long as I live and memory survives, that image endures.
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I resumed life at Longbourn almost as though I had never left. I told my parents Pemberley was a lovely place for a brief visit, but I could not remain longer. Mamá fretted and fumed as I expected, but my father simply patted my shoulder. Neither of them asked why I returned so quickly. Mamá was too busy complaining about my ingratitude, but I oftentimes looked up to see my father gaze upon me with a puzzled expression in his eyes. I did not seek him out to make further explanations, and he was not the type of father who made an effort to look into matters that might require more attention than he wished to give.
Fortunately, I had gained control over my emotions by the time I arrived home. I had wept during much of the first leg of the journey. Upon first observation of my discomfort, my maid asked whether she could be of assistance. When I refused and directed her to let me be, she followed my bidding and allowed me to indulge my grief while she shopped for our necessities at the first town we reached that proved large enough to contain suitable shops. On that first night back at Longbourn, I laid my head upon the pillow on which I had slept most of my life and knew my tears were done. I would no longer cry for what I could never have. I would content myself with the life before me.
