He shook his head. “Please stay there. I may need you at the reins if I have to guide the horses.” Moving one last branch, he surveyed his progress, hoping there was enough room for the carriage to pass. Suddenly rough hands grabbed him from behind and spun him around. He received a blow to the stomach before he knew what was happening and went sprawling in the dirt of the road. “Les Anglais!” A voice spat out.
Chapter 5
The voice of his attacker continued with a flood of French which Darcy’s brain automatically translated even as he realized that several voices were shouting. “Don’t let the English filth escape! Make them pay!” Still on the ground, he glared up into the faces of his attackers, a group of five rough-looking men, glaring at him with anger and hatred. Darcy pushed himself to his feet, but two men immediately came forward and grabbed his arms. In French he attempted to reason with them: “We are only trying to leave the city. We have no quarrel with you. Please, I have a frightened young lady with me.” Several of the men leered at Elizabeth and he instantly wished he had not drawn their attention to her.
While he spoke, he felt in the pocket of his great coat. With a sense of despair, he realized he had left the pistol on the seat of the carriage. He had to protect Elizabeth! But, now he realized that in attempting to save her, he had led her into greater danger!
Attempting to formulate a plan, he thrust his hands further into his pockets, finding a few francs which he proffered in one hand. The sight of the coins distracted some of the men, as he intended. He dropped the franc coins on the ground and a two of the men raced to retrieve them; however, the other men’s arms holding him held firm. Not distracted enough, he thought ruefully. He had additional money in his trunk and thought about bribing their way free, but the men had no reason to treat them well once they had the money; Darcy was in no position to bargain.
The biggest man, apparently the mob’s unofficial leader, picked up a board with several nails still sticking out of it. Menace radiated from every inch of his body, he raised it over his head, preparing to strike Darcy, who struggled – to no avail – to escape his captors’ grip. Staring at the jagged nails, Darcy braced himself for the blow.
Now Then he heard a woman’s voice: “Arretez!” Elizabeth was standing in the curricle, the pistol pointing directly at his attackers. “Let him go!” The men stared at her in astonishment. “Maintenant!” As she made an angry gesture, her face was fierce and her manner was very commanding. The hands holding Darcy loosened their grip and he quickly shrugged them off. He launched himself toward the curricle, knowing that now was the time to make good their escape before the thugs realized how they could use their superior numbers to overcome one woman with a pistol.
Elizabeth sank down to the seat as he climbed up into it. “Keep the pistol trained on them!” He hissed to her as he took up the reins and she immediately made a threatening gesture with the gun at the men who stood in the road. “Deplacez! Now! Maintenant! ” The men stared at the gun, but then slowly shifted out of the way. Their leader looked down and spat in the dirt, muttering to himself, clearly deciding it would not be worth the trouble to attack the English couple. Darcy slapped the reins and maneuvered the horse through the breach he had created in the barrier; for the first time he was grateful that their conveyance was small and narrow. After they passed though the barrier, Elizabeth turned on the seat so she could point the pistol on any ruffians who might follow them. Darcy slapped the reins again, urging the horses into a run and they had soon left the thugs far behind.
Fortunately, the curricle quickly reached the countryside. There were few other carriages on the road; the only people they saw were working in the fields far from the road. Darcy slowed the horses to a trot, not wanting to exhaust the creatures as Elizabeth relaxed her death grip on the pistol and it fell into her lap. It was only then that Darcy realized her hands were trembling violently. “I do not believe I have ever been so frightened in my entire life. Not even when Charlotte Lucas’s brother tricked me into running through the bull pasture and it chased me!” She laughed a little shakily.
What a woman! He thought. Capable of making a jest even in these straitened circumstances. Most women of his acquaintance would be having hysterics. No wonder I fell in love with her! “Thank you for your quick thinking. You saved my life.” He noticed that his voice was low and husky with emotion.
“My thinking was not at all quick. It took me forever to recall the pistol lying beside me.” She shook her head self-deprecatingly, rubbing the palms of her hands against her skirt in an attempt to dry them. Gingerly, she handed the pistol back to him and he stowed it in his coat.
Darcy chuckled. “It was very timely as far as I am concerned.”
“I was grateful they did not challenge me further,” Elizabeth admitted, wrapping her arms around herself. “I have no idea how to fire a pistol. They would have laughed to see me attempt it.”
“You were very convincing.” He glanced over at her. Although her expression was resolute, he could see that she was trembling all over. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and embrace her until the shaking subsided. He wanted to pull down her hair, bury his face in it and kiss her neck….I must quit this line of thought before it spins out of control. She trusts me to be a gentleman! She had no idea how much her simple statement of trust back in the inn had affected him. In that instant he had resolved he would live up to her trust in him. Given her recent fright, she did not need to fend off a too ardent – and perhaps unwelcome – admirer. Still, he watched her clasp her gloved hands shakily together and wished he could help her quell her nerves.
Daringly, he held the soft leather reins in one hand while reaching over and enclosing one of her hands in his. She stiffened perceptibly and he thought she would draw her hand away. Then she relaxed a little and smiled, but she did not turn in his direction or meet his eyes. “Mr. Darcy, I believe you are trying to take advantage of my discomposure to flirt with me!”
The pert tone in her voice told him she was not truly offended. “Am I not permitted to provide you with one shred of comfort?” He tried to match her light tone.
“Comfort? I do not believe etiquette books for young women cover the topic of comfort!” She gave a little laugh he found completely endearing.
“A serious deficiency.” Darcy said solemnly.
“Indeed, I believe I will write to the author of my mother’s favorite book and suggest that he discuss appropriate behavior when escaping an angry mob in France with an unmarried gentleman. That subject was sorely neglected in the last edition!” She smiled at him mischievously.
Now he laughed aloud and again fought an almost irresistible impulse to take her into his arms. Her ability to notice the absurd and humorous in any circumstance delighted him. At the same time, he attempted to remind himself that even though she was accepting a modicum of comfort, it did not mean that her opinion of him had changed. Regretfully, he released her hand, not wishing her to believe he was taking advantage of their circumstances.
Silence stretched between them as the horses continued at a sedate trot. Although Elizabeth had made light of the situation, he could not help but dwell on the impropriety: unrelated single men and women should never travel together. If word of this journey reached England, everyone would assume he had compromised her and her father would demand that Darcy marry her. That would not be such a bad fate as far as Darcy was concerned. But, no, he did not desire her consent under those circumstances. He could not imagine her reaction to be coerced in such a way, but it would not be good.
What was her true reaction to traveling with him? She had joked about it, but the humor could mask discomfort. Perhaps she had been uncomfortable when he took her hand. He cleared his throat. “I…apologize for the impropriety….I wish we could have brought Mrs. Radnor’s maid for your comfort.”
She gazed steadily at her hands clasped in front of her. “Please do not apologize again for circumstances beyond your control. I know you
would never take advantage.”
She would not be so sanguine if she knew some of the fantasies I have had about her, Darcy thought. Nevertheless he was touched that she voiced her trust of him so forthrightly and decisively. Dare I hope her opinion of me is improving? Perhaps I now rank above a shopkeeper! He smiled a little at the thought.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth glanced at him questioningly.
“I had viewed our time in Paris as an opportunity to demonstrate my better nature,” he explained. “Instead I have displayed a talent for getting you alone.”
This brought no laughter from her, instead she seemed pensive. “On the contrary, I believe you have shown a loyalty and resourcefulness that are quite admirable. I could never have escaped Paris on my own.” Her compliments spread warmth throughout his body.
He smiled at her. “I should denigrate myself more often just for the pleasure of hearing you sing my praises. Perhaps I should describe myself as unpleasant and ugly?”
She laughed aloud at this until she was gasping for breath. “And to think I once believed you had no sense of humor!” Her opinion of me is improving, he thought happily. Hope surged through him.
“I am afraid you have not always seen me at my best,” he confessed, gazing steadily at the road.
He sensed her eyes were on his face. “I am beginning to understand that.” He turned slightly to gaze into her face. The intimacy of her tone made him shiver a little and her fine blue eyes were so captivating he thought he could never tear his away. Suddenly he wished that they were in a drawing room somewhere and not on a carriage seat where he could not gaze on her easily or take her in his arms. Just as well I do not have the chance to do something foolish and impulsive. For a moment he considered pulling the curricle to the side of the road so they could talk, but he knew they could not afford to waste time. He thought of the irony. I have longed for a chance to get Elizabeth alone and uninterrupted, but not under circumstances such as these.
Several hours later, silence had fallen over the travelers. The sky was gray and overcast, suiting Elizabeth’s mood. Although the countryside was pretty enough, it was unvarying – mostly farmland – and she was weary of it. She watched Darcy’s large capable hands handle the reins and wished she could decipher the puzzle this man represented. Although his letter had compelled her to modify her worst opinions about him, she had still considered him proud and difficult. After all, his harsh words about her family had been heartfelt, if tactless – although she was forced to admit he had not been entirely wrong either.
When she had encountered him at the ball in Paris, he had been amiable, but still proud and reserved. Now, however, she was seeing a very different side of him. When not surrounded by other people, he was more quick-witted and relaxed. She was conscious not only of the honor of his attention, but also the depth of caring he exhibited for her. Although she liked to think of herself as independent and capable, she recognized that she had needed his help to escape Paris, and she found his devotion to her protection – even to the point of jeopardizing his life – somewhat thrilling. It filled her with warmth to think that he valued her that highly.
Her thoughts about him were quite different from what they had been when she had arrived in France. She no longer experienced anger or antipathy – or even wounded pride. In their place she felt admiration and affection, but was there more in her heart? She had never been in love. How did it feel?
Darcy’s hand brushed against her arm as he shifted on the hard wooden bench and again she felt that familiar tingle of electricity, a physical rush of energy that she had experienced with no other man. What did it mean? All of these questions were causing a headache; she rubbed her forehead with her hand.
She studied Darcy’s profile as he gazed intently at the road ahead. What did Darcy experience when their hands touched? Did he sense the same electricity? A little shiver passed through her. His proximity and sheer masculinity were a little intimidating, but also somewhat exciting. What is happening to me? I never used to have such thoughts!
When he had proposed at Hunsford, she had not believed that he truly loved her, rather he had seemed infatuated with a concept of how he wished she would be – if she were separated from her family. Recently, however, his constant devotion and sensitivity to her comfort had convinced her that his love for her was genuine. And his conversation had convinced her that he understood her far better than she had given him credit for.
She must take his affection seriously, but she had been more comfortable when it could be easily dismissed. What had she given him in exchange for his devotion? He had risked his life and reputation for a woman who had refused his proposal in an angry and insulting manner. Had Elizabeth even granted him hope that her opinion might change? Or shown him that it had already altered somewhat? Did he believe he was risking his life for a woman who would still angrily refuse him? She contemplated whether there was some way to demonstrate how her thoughts had changed.
Slowly and deliberately Elizabeth put her hand on the bench between her and Darcy. He did not seem to notice at once and it rested there a moment, but she discerned a slight stiffening in his posture. Then he unhurriedly placed his hand on top of hers. Elizabeth blushed and smiled, but did not turn toward him, unready for that step. Darcy had a small smile on his face as well, and – when she did not pull her hand away – he consolidated his hold by further intertwining her fingers with his. Elizabeth found the small gesture both thrilling and comforting.
Later in the afternoon their conversation turned to books, discovering that they shared many common interests in poetry, history, and the plays of Shakespeare. When they discussed contemporary novels, Darcy had some strong opinions about their value and they were not complimentary. While Elizabeth allowed that many novels were lurid or overly sentimental, she maintained that many were well worth reading. Darcy took the opposing view, apparently without having read many of the books in question.
When she discovered the potential conflict, Elizabeth said amiably, “Well, it appears we cannot agree on this point. Have you read the latest volume of Wordsworth?” Darcy was silent for so long Elizabeth feared she had offended him somehow. “Mr. Darcy?”
Her inquiry roused him from his reverie and he peered at her intently. “I have never known you to retreat from an argument before.”
“Are you asking me to quarrel with you?” She shifted on the unyielding wooden seat, thinking that every muscle in her body now ached like her head, and she had no energy for her usual verbal sparring.
“Not on principle. However I would hope you are frank with me when your opinions differ from mine.”
Elizabeth weighed her response for a moment before replying. “When I have been frank with you in the past, I have made some hurtful declarations. I have many sins to atone for.”
“Must you do so by agreeing with me?” An ironic smile quirked up one side of his mouth.
Elizabeth forced herself to think clearly through the fatigue that clouded her mind. “Earlier in Netherfield and Rosings, your good opinion did not matter to me.” His face darkened at this reminder and he shifted his gaze back to the dusty road. “Now it does. Furthermore, you are risking your life to save mine. Surely that deserves some consideration.”
“Find another way to show it.” The words came out almost as a growl. Now she was certain he was offended, but she reminded herself that she had misunderstood him before. His commanding ways did not always demonstrate disapproval.
“You truly wish me to disagree with you?”
“I wish to hear what you are truly thinking. I know you are capable of that.” He sighed, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I receive very little frankness from most of the people in my life.” She suddenly recalled that he did not regard Miss Bingley as worth arguing with.
“You wish to know what I truly think?” This conversation was important; she pushed herself to focus on it.
He suddenly seemed very wary, every muscle in his body tense,
but he nodded. “Yes.”
“I think you are a very good man.” She could see his profile as he started a little and then turned to see if she was serious. They locked eyes for a moment, and then he gave a small smile.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet.”
She shrugged. “You asked me to be honest.”
Silence fell between them for a few minutes. Elizabeth was quite eager to be quit of the carriage. As she adjusted her bonnet, her head felt too large and swollen all out of proportion. The sunlight was weak on a cloudy day, but it still seemed too bright to her. She had never experienced such a headache! Was it the weather? It had been cool and damp all day. Pressing at her temples, she wished she could somehow relieve the pressure in her head.
“All you well?” Darcy regarded her with concern.
“Just a headache.”
“We shall arrive at a small town in about an hour. Hopefully we can exchange these horses for fresh ones. Perhaps we may rest for an hour and obtain some tea.”
She nodded, but even that small movement hurt. What was wrong with her head? As her foggy brain pondered this question she felt the first fat raindrop land on her arm. “Oh dear!” She peered up at the low hanging clouds in dismay as the first drop was followed by a multitude of others. In a matter of minutes her clothes were soaked. She pulled her shawl around her head, but it provided little protection.
The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 7
