A Lady’s Choice

by Jane Hunter

  Felicity came up beside her and squeezed her hand tightly. “Lizzy, are you quite well?” she asked quietly.

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” she replied. “I am just nervous—”

  Elizabeth’s words died in her throat as Hamish McArthur approached. “My dear,” he said with a smile. “I have not been introduced to your friend?”

  “Indeed, you have not,” Felicity chirped. “This—is my oldest friend from Hertfordshire. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Lizzy, I am pleased to introduce you to Hamish McArthur, Lord Rackham.” Elizabeth smiled and curtseyed to answer Hamish’s polite bow.

  They spoke briefly before Felicity pulled Elizabeth away. “Are you ready for tomorrow, Lizzy?” Felicity whispered. Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

  “Hush,” Elizabeth said quietly, “but yes, I am.”

  “Good, I will come and fetch you in the morning.” Elizabeth could only nod, more afraid of being noticed than anything, but no one was looking their way and she almost breathed a sigh of relief at being ignored.

  “I think I will go up to bed,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  Felicity nodded and squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers. “Everything is arranged,” she said with a smile. Elizabeth smiled in return and pulled her hand from her friend’s grasp. She wound her way through the crowd and set her glass of wine upon the table before she left the drawing room.

  The hallway was a few degrees cooler and Elizabeth breathed a sigh as she walked to the grand staircase that led to the guest rooms. She went as quickly as she could, not wanting to be stopped for any conversation. She would ring for washing water before going to bed, but she did not want to speak to anyone else.

  She could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, and she slipped into her room just as the other guests were coming around the corner. She could hear voices, one that was perhaps familiar, but she could not tell from behind the wooden door. She leaned against the door, but the voices were too muffled and she did not want to risk being caught if she opened the door. Elizabeth shook her head and tugged on the bell to summon a maid.

  She would sort through her feelings, and everything else, tomorrow.

  True to her word, Felicity knocked upon Elizabeth’s door very early the next morning. Elizabeth had not had a restful sleep, instead, she had dozed in a chair she had pulled close to the fire and was awake when she heard Felicity tapping upon the door.

  Felicity’s blue eyes were wide and full of mischief. “Are you ready, Lizzy?” Elizabeth pulled a shawl around her shoulders and nodded. “Come now, we must go quickly and quietly. The house is still asleep, but it will not be long until they are awake and ready for the shoot.”

  The women crept quietly through the house and into the kitchens. Felicity grabbed scones and an apple and tucked them into a pocket in her skirts. Elizabeth took an apple and bit into it as they ran into the gardens. Felicity grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her into the forest toward to the gamekeeper’s cottage.

  The door to Mr. Scarborough’s cottage was ajar, and Felicity entered without hesitation. Elizabeth loitered in the small garden and ate her apple nervously. It was early morning, and the forest was full of mist, but a comforting plume of smoke came from the cottage chimney and the smell of fresh herbs from the garden soothed her anxious mood.

  “Lizzy, do hurry!” Felicity hissed from the doorway. “Everything is arranged. Mr. Scarborough will be with the dogs now, but he will return soon to fit us with our rifles.”

  Elizabeth threw her apple into the underbrush and wiped her hands on her skirts. She took a deep breath and followed her friend into the cottage. It was warm and dry inside, and Elizabeth was pleased to see it so well appointed. A comfortable life for a man like Mr. Scarborough, she thought.

  “See, Lizzy?” Felicity said eagerly. She pointed to two bundles wrapped in linen and tied with rough string. “I had them delivered here last night.”

  “Our clothes?”

  “Yes, but you must hurry, I hope you like what I picked out for Mr. Raleigh.”

  Elizabeth smiled and could not deny the excitement that rippled through her chest. “I am sure you chose very well,” she said.

  They unwrapped their bundles hurriedly and unfolded the clothing. Woollen breeches, linen shirts, wool vests, warm jackets, boots, and caps to conceal their hair. Felicity stepped into the clothing quickly, with the ease of someone who had done this very act a hundred times or more, but Elizabeth struggled with the buttons and needed Felicity’s help to bind down her breasts.

  Felicity pulled a hat over her hair and fitted another over Elizabeth’s curls. She stood back and placed her hands on her hips. “Why, Mr. Raleigh,” Felicity said with a hint of surprise in her voice, “I am so glad to see you here this morning.”

  “And I you, Mr. Garret,” Elizabeth replied haltingly. “I thank you for the invitation.”

  Felicity smiled and covered her mouth to keep her laughter under control. “We look wonderful,” she said.

  “Do we?” Elizabeth was not sure. She felt odd in the gentleman’s clothes, the boots were heavy and the vest hugged her ribs tightly. It was not a corset, and she was certainly warmer than she ever would be in a gown and wool stockings.

  “We do, indeed,” Felicity said firmly. “Come, we must meet Mr. Scarborough.”

  Elizabeth tugged on her lapels and Felicity handed her a knitted wool scarf. Elizabeth looped it around her neck and smiled. “Indeed, let us go meet Mr. Scarborough.”

  * * *

  The gamekeeper said nothing about their attire, and greeted them as formally as if they were two gentlemen. He fitted them with rifles, and Elizabeth was grateful that she could lift it without too much trouble, but she did not know how long she would be able to maintain enough height to get a proper shot fired.

  She had never fired a rifle, and her father was not a hunter, so she had precious little experience with weapons. Mr. Raleigh was far more adventurous than Elizabeth herself would ever be.

  With Mr. Scarborough and his dogs in the lead, they set off to join the other hunters who were already organizing into ranks and shooting partners. Lord Rackham and another gentleman were making a fuss over their rifles, and Elizabeth turned her face away as Felicity giggled into her scarf.

  When all the men were assembled and Mr. Scarborough had given the instructions, the party set off. A troop of young boys followed them with extra shot, and the hunters followed the baying of the hounds as they ran off in search of pheasant and other game.

  The gentlemen were bestowed with long strides, and Elizabeth found herself working hard to keep up. Mr. Scarborough kept Elizabeth and Felicity away from the crowd of gentlemen as best he could, and Elizabeth did her best to enjoy the walk through the woods.

  Thankfully, no one noticed her struggles, and she was grateful when they paused for Mr. Scarborough to set his own spaniels off in search of pheasants to flush from their ground roosts.

  Mr. Scarborough was striking the brush with his walking stick and the dogs were hard at work rooting through the underbrush. It would not be long now, and then she would have to shoot. “Here now, sir, shant be a moment!” Mr. Scarborough’s shout was jovial. One of the spaniel’s barked and took off through the dry bush.

  “Here they come, sir!” Mr. Scarborough’s shout interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts.

  Felicity lifted her rifle to her shoulder, and they stood silent for a moment, their breath fogging in the chill air. All at once, a spaniel dashed through the trees and leapt into the brush. Two pheasants exploded upwards, their wings whistling and beating a sharp tattoo as they flew low.

  Felicity’s gun went off first, the sound of the shot echoed through the trees and made Elizabeth’s ears ring. She shouted for another weapon and the boy that followed them scrambled forward. Elizabeth closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger, wincing as the rifle jumped in her hands and slammed into her shoulder.

  “Well done, sir!” Mr. Scarborough’s shout made Elizabeth open her eyes and the boy pulled t
he rifle out of her hands.

  “Are you quite all right, Mr. Raleigh?” Felicity asked breathlessly.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. Just some smoke in my eyes, it is nothing.” She blinked quickly, as though to clear them. Felicity smiled broadly and clapped her on the shoulder. “Well done, Mr. Raleigh. We shall have pheasant for supper after all.”

  Elizabeth smiled in surprise. She had done it after all without even meaning to. Jane would never believe it. She would never believe any of it. Her sister had dressed in men’s clothing, shot a rifle, and killed a pheasant… Truly unbelievable.

  * * *

  Elizabeth’s shoulder ached fiercely and as they walked on through the forest, she began to feel faint and dizzy.

  “Are you quite well, Mr. Raleigh,” Felicity asked quietly.

  “I—I believe I should go back to the house,” Elizabeth said.

  Felicity pressed her lips together, but nodded shortly. “Yes, go back to the cottage and change your clothes before you go back to the house. The ladies will be in the drawing room. Tell them I am taken ill.”

  Elizabeth nodded and thanked Mr. Scarborough for a most diverting morning. She gave her rifle to one of the boys who followed and strode through the underbrush in the direction of the gamekeeper’s cottage. Thankfully the sun was just beginning to ride low in the sky and she was able to find her way back without too much trouble.

  She stepped through the door and closed it behind her. The fire burned low in the hearth and Elizabeth laid a new log upon the embers and revived it back to burning with little effort.

  Elizabeth had felt confident when she had held the rifle and walked with Felicity through the forest. They had looked the part, indeed, but now that she was away from prying eyes, her confidence had begun to falter just a little. She removed her jacket and waistcoat, wincing at the movement. She pulled the linen shirt over her head and cried out just a little at the pain in her shoulder. She looked down and swallowed another gasp as she saw the damage that the rifle had done. Her shoulder was a mosaic of red and purple bruising. She had tried to ignore the pain while they had been shooting, but it would be impossible to avoid it now. She touched it gently, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through her arm. Her fingers were stained black with gunpowder, and her cheek stung where she had rested it upon the rifle before firing.

  Elizabeth rubbed at her cheek and wished desperately for some washing water. She would have to call for some when she arrived back at Grenleigh.

  No matter.

  She reached down to loosen the binding over her breasts, but just as she was about to unwind the linen, she heard the sound of boots crunching over the path outside the cottage. Panic flooded through her and she looked for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to conceal herself.

  “Mr. Scarborough!” Elizabeth grabbed her discarded linen shirt just as the door to the cottage opened.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and braced herself to be discovered… perhaps she could convince this person to keep her secret, perhaps—

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flew open and her mouth dropped open as she met the dark and surprised gaze of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  “I—Mr. Darcy… what are you doing here?”

  Mr. Darcy blinked and stepped into the cottage. “I am come to see Mr. Scarborough,” he said. “But you—what are you—”

  “It is a misunderstanding,” Elizabeth stammered. Her cheeks heated as she clutched the linen shirt close to her chest. She was clad only in men’s breeches and boots, with only a length of linen separating her bare skin from the gentleman’s gaze. She could not mistake the look in his eyes, and the difficulty he had in tearing his eyes away from her flesh.

  “A misunderstanding,” he repeated her words and Elizabeth swallowed hard.

  “Yes… I was… I was just—”

  “Elizabeth,” he said thickly, “I had thought never to see you again.” Elizabeth’s embarrassed blush became one of anger instead of awkwardness.

  “But why?” she asked , forgetting that she was almost disrobed before him. “After what you did for my family—for me? What could keep you from Hertfordshire? You promised that you would speak to Mr. Bingley about Jane… did you forget your promise to me? Have you already forgotten those words?”

  Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes blazed and Elizabeth instantly regretted her words. He strode into the cottage and Elizabeth had to stop herself from stepping back as he approached. He stood close, almost too close, and she was desperately aware of how little clothing she was wearing. Her dress lay just out of reach—anything she could have wanted to use to hide herself from the intensity of Mr. Darcy’s gaze was out of reach.

  “I have forgotten nothing,” Mr. Darcy said quietly. Elizabeth closed her eyes to try and escape his scrutiny, but she could feel his eyes upon her. “And now I find you here, in Scotland of all places… dressed in—what are you wearing?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flew open and she looked up at him, not knowing how to answer. “I—”

  Mr. Darcy swallowed thickly, and Elizabeth’s heart beat hard and fast in her chest. “Seeing you here, Elizabeth, it brings everything rushing back to me. Every word we have exchanged, both hard and sweet—the way I felt when I saw you at Pemberley…” Elizabeth gasped as his hand came up to caress her cheek and she could not flinch away from the heat of his palm, or the way his eyes held her captive.

  “Mr. Darcy, I—”

  But he did not let her complete her thought. He closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips gently to hers. Elizabeth stiffened, and then the intensity of her feelings crashed against her mind and heart, and she relaxed against his touch. Mr. Darcy’s hand caressed her cheek as his other hand pulled the linen shirt she clutched away. He dropped it to the floor and laid his hand upon the bare flesh of her waist. Elizabeth moaned as he pulled her closer and the chill of his jacket sank into her flesh.

  She was almost naked against him and she was intensely aware of the heat of his palm against her skin as it moved over her back and his fingers tugged at the length of linen that bound her breasts.

  Mr. Darcy dragged his lips from hers and his eyes burned with a desire that left her breathless. “My Elizabeth—I have tried to fight these emotions. I have tried to push this desire from my heart, but seeing you again, being near you again, it has brought everything back and I cannot fight it any longer. I must tell you, once more, how much I ardently admire and love you—but unlike my first admission of this fact, I do not regret it. I embrace it.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as Mr. Darcy’s mouth descended on hers once more. Now that it was reality, Elizabeth knew that this moment, this feeling, it was everything she had wanted. Everything she had hoped for when she had met Mr. Darcy again at Pemberley, and even more so when he had stepped in to rescue Lydia from her own folly.

  As his lips moved against hers, he pulled gently at the linen wrapped around her ribs, and Elizabeth sighed against his mouth as the pressure on her ribs was released and she stood against him, half-naked and shameless.

  Mr. Darcy’s arms tightened around her, crushing her against his chest as his mouth opened and his tongue teased at her lips. Elizabeth moaned again as his hand pressed against the small of her back and she felt something hard and unyielding press against her thigh.

  Mr. Darcy’s lips moved from her mouth along her jaw and down her neck, devouring the taste of her flesh as his hands roved over her back and the swell of her hip to grip her buttocks. Elizabeth gasped and her head fell back as Mr. Darcy’s heated mouth trailed down her neck and over her collarbone and he pulled her against him.

  All at once, Elizabeth’s senses returned. She heard voices outside, boots on the path, the barking of Mr. Scarborough’s dogs. She pushed Mr. Darcy away and grabbed for the linen shirt that lay upon the floor.

  She pulled it over her head and gathered her gown and slippers into the linen the gentleman’s clothes had been wrapped in only
a few hours ago. Mr. Darcy stared at her, his eyes still swimming with desire and his pulse still pounding at his throat.

  “You must help me,” Elizabeth whispered. “I cannot be discovered here!”

  Mr. Darcy nodded dumbly, as though hearing the voices outside the cottage for the first time. “Of course,” he whispered. He moved to the door as Elizabeth scrambled to pull her jacket over her shoulders. She cried out in pain, and Mr. Darcy flinched toward her.

  “You are injured,” he said softly, his voice was full of concern and Elizabeth’s heart lurched in her chest.

  “It is nothing,” she said. “The rifle… it is nothing. Please, please you must keep them away until I can escape!” Mr. Darcy nodded, but it was obvious that he did not want to leave her. “Please!”

  With another lingering look, Mr. Darcy opened the door of the cottage and stepped out into the waning afternoon sunlight. He left the door open behind him so that Elizabeth could slip out unnoticed. She pulled the cap down over her hair and tied the scarf around her throat. She leaned against the doorframe and listened as Mr. Darcy spoke to Mr. Scarborough and the gentleman who accompanied him.

  She took a deep breath and crept through the door, keeping her body tight against the side of the gamekeeper’s cottage before she was safely out of sight and could flee into the woods.

  With her dress and slippers clutched under her arm, Elizabeth ran as fast as she dared through the forest toward the safety of Grenleigh.

  * * *

  to be continued…

  A Highland Reel

  Mr. Darcy’s Highland Fling ~ Book 2

  Elizabeth Bennet ran as fast as her tired legs could carry her back to Grenleigh. She skirted the courtyard where footmen stood together doing more talking than polishing the brass on the carriages that sat outside the house. She must avoid being seen.