The Journey

by Hahn, Jan

  “I understand. You must hurry home tonight to your sister, and you will want to see your uncle and aunt. Tomorrow will be soon enough for our talk.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mr. Darcy replied. “I shall meet with you shortly after mid-day, if that is convenient.”

  “Perfect,” my father answered.

  Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam then walked toward the stairs, and both of them bowed. The colonel expressed his wishes that I should recover quickly from the trip.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, “and allow me once again to express my deep appreciation for all you have done to rescue us.”

  He smiled and turned his attention back to my aunt and uncle. Mr. Darcy, however, spoke directly to Jane. “Good night, Miss Bennet.”

  He then turned back to me and locked his gaze upon mine.

  “Good night, Mr. Darcy,” I murmured.

  “May you rest easy tonight, Elizabeth,” he said softly.

  Gooseflesh crept up my arms. Why had he addressed me in that familiar way within earshot of others? Had it become such habit that it slipped out, or did it mean something much more important? Did it have anything to do with meeting my father on the morrow? Before I could even begin to consider the enormity of the possibility, he and the colonel walked out the door.

  After I had changed into my nightgown, Jane offered to brush out my hair, a practice we had performed for each other since childhood. I gladly accepted, and throwing a shawl around my shoulders, sat at her feet on the rug before the fireplace. As she ran the brush from my scalp down the length of my curls, I revelled in the feelings of comfort and security derived from such a simple action. I was safe.

  I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the rhythm, longing to be back at Longbourn, wishing it were a week earlier and I had never begun that journey to Town. Our greatest concern then had been how soon Mr. Bingley would call after the Netherfield ball.

  “Jane, did Mr. Bingley travel from Hertfordshire to Town in the carriage with you and Father?”

  “Yes, along with Mr. Hurst.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What stimulating conversation did that gentleman offer?”

  She laughed lightly. “Very little that I can recall. We had gone but five miles before he began to snore.”

  “Excellent! Now tell me that Father also fell asleep, and Mr. Bingley took advantage of the situation to propose.”

  “Lizzy! Do be serious.”

  “But you were thrown together oft times throughout this nightmare, were you not?”

  “At first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jane sighed. “When we received that horrible post informing us of what had happened, Mr. Bingley called that morning. He was most kind and tried to be as reassuring as possible.”

  “As well he should have.”

  “He also offered his second carriage for our trip to London, and he suggested that we all travel together that evening.”

  “Well and good,” I said, rising to stir the fire.

  “But since we arrived in Town, I have not seen him.”

  “What? He has not called on you in three days?”

  She shook her head, casting her eyes down to her lap. “I am sure he has had many things to occupy his time, what with his sisters’ distress.”

  “But what was he like before that when you were together?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was he himself? Was he pleasant and amiable, and did he appear to be as much in love with you as ever?” I took the brush from her and began to apply generous strokes to her long, blonde hair.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I do not know that Mr. Bingley is in love with me.”

  “How can you doubt it? I have never seen a man so attentive, so doting.” She did not make any reply, and so I ventured further. “Has his manner changed since the Netherfield Ball?”

  “No,” she replied somewhat wistfully, “I cannot say that it changed. Of course, he did not call at Longbourn even once during the week after the ball, which seemed somewhat unusual, but you are aware of that. And then I received the note from Caroline saying the entire party was removing to Town, and shortly after that, Father came in and announced that you were to travel with them. Lizzy, I have the strangest feeling that Mr. Bingley might never have called again except for your misfortune.”

  And I knew the reason why! Mr. Darcy had already cautioned him against Jane. How could he! My blood ran hot just thinking about such a blatant injustice committed against my dear, sweet sister, but I bit my tongue and did not tell her. I could not bring myself to squash her hopes and dreams.

  I laid the brush aside and crawled up on the four-poster bed, kicking off my slippers and hugging my knees to my chest while staring at the dying fire.

  Jane rose and gathered her things. “You must sleep, Lizzy. I have kept you long enough.” She walked over to kiss my forehead, and I caught her hand.

  “Jane, stay with me tonight.”

  “But dearest, will you not rest better alone?”

  I shook my head. “I do not want to be alone.”

  She sat down beside me and patted my hand. “Are you still afraid?” I nodded. “Then, of course, I will. Would it help to talk about it?”

  I sighed. “Oh, I hardly know where to begin.”

  “At the beginning,” she said.

  And so I told her the story from the way Caroline Bingley had flirted with Mr. Darcy in the carriage to the moment Colonel Fitzwilliam surprised me in the woods.

  She was horrified at my description of Sneyd and his vulgar remarks and vile threats, and her eyes grew wide when I described Gert, the other two men and the cabin where we all stayed. My picture of Morgan, however, caused her to gasp aloud, especially when I told her of his scar and how he had rescued me from Sneyd’s ugly advances. She could not believe I had actually sung for him and that we had danced together, and when I related the story of his childhood, I saw the sympathy that I expected reflected in her eyes.

  “Perchance, he is not as bad as he wishes people to think he is,” she said softly.

  “That is exactly what I think, Jane. He pretends to be a dastardly, infamous character, but in fact, he seems more like a poor, unfortunate youth who never really had a chance.”

  “You said he did kill someone, though.”

  “He did, and I do not know how it came about, but I believe it was to save his own life. The man evidently came at him with a knife or sword to inflict the wound that scarred his face.”

  Jane leaned forward and peered into my eyes. “Lizzy, do you care for this Morgan?”

  I glanced away and rose from the bed to stir the fire yet again. “In another time, another place, I might have. As it is, I can only feel pity for him. And fear.”

  “Fear?”

  “They may hang him.”

  “Is that not the punishment for theft and kidnapping?”

  “Possibly transportation, but if he is wanted for killing that man, then murder will be added to his charges, and he has not a chance.”

  She lowered her eyes and made no reply. What could she say? I could see no way out for Morgan.

  Silently, we pulled back the blankets and plumped our pillows. Jane was just about to blow out the candle when my aunt tapped lightly at the door and then opened it.

  “I have brought you one of my sleeping draughts, Lizzy. I thought you might need it, for your father and I agree that a night of good, sound sleep will benefit you more than anything. Shall I mix it up for you?”

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  She busied herself stirring the medicine into a glass of water.

  “Has my father retired yet?”

  “I believe he has. He has been under a great strain the last few days, my dear, but, of course, you realize that. Did you wish to see him tonight? I am sure he would not mind rising for you.”

  “No, no, it can wait until morning. It is just that — well, I wanted to ask him about the meeting he has arranged with Mr. Darcy. Do you know anyth
ing about that?”

  My aunt and Jane exchanged glances.

  “Come and sit here by the fire, Lizzy.” I did as I was told, while Jane pulled up a chair, and Mrs. Gardiner sat across from me. “My dearest girl, there has been a great deal of talk. The gossip has even been spread in the newspapers. They say that you and Mr. Darcy represented yourselves as married when accosted by those highwaymen.”

  “We did, but only to save me.”

  “They threatened her with terrible things,” Jane added.

  “I can well imagine, and Mr. Darcy is to be commended for his actions, but you must see what this has done to you. When those men go to trial, the story will be broadcast far and wide.”

  “Everyone will know that we only pretended to be married, and they will know the reason why. I should think it a good thing!”

  Mrs. Gardiner pressed her lips together and twisted her hands. “Lizzy, what kind of arrangements — how were you and Mr. Darcy — that is, where did you stay? Were you placed in the same room all those days . . . and nights?”

  It felt like a great stone had fallen on my chest, pulling me down into a whirling vortex of dread. I hung my head and could not face her. “Yes,” I said softly.

  “Then you see what I mean.”

  “But nothing happened, Aunt. Mr. Darcy did nothing untoward. We did nothing wrong.”

  Was I lying? I had omitted what happened at the cave. I had not even shared that with Jane. At times, I fancied that perhaps I had somehow imagined it.

  “Must all that be told?” Jane asked. “Why should anyone at the trial have to know where Lizzy and Mr. Darcy slept? It has nothing to do with the crimes those men committed.”

  “You are correct, Jane,” my aunt said, “but I doubt there is any way it will not be revealed. As I said before, this has been in the newspapers. Reporters will be present, and questions will be asked. You can hardly expect criminals to protect Lizzy’s reputation.”

  She rose to leave. “And even if by some miracle the particulars were not told, just the fact that Mr. Darcy declared you as his wife and you spent four days and nights in captivity together — well, people will assume the worst. Oh, it will not harm Mr. Darcy’s good name, but Lizzy, unless he offers marriage — ”

  Marriage! There, the word had actually been spoken aloud.

  “Well, it will do none of us any good to dwell on it tonight. Drink the potion, dear, and let it work its magic. And let us pray that Mr. Darcy will do the right thing or, if he is not willing, that your father and uncle can persuade him otherwise.” My aunt patted my shoulder and kissed my forehead. “Good night, my dear.”

  She must have left the room, but I do not remember it. I sat there stunned, unable to move. Why had I been unable to face this inevitability? Why had I allowed my sanguine nature to believe that everything would somehow sort itself out once we were freed? Why was I such a fool?

  “Lizzy?” I became conscious that Jane stood before me. “Shall you not do as Aunt instructed and take the medicine?”

  Woodenly, I put the glass to my lips and swallowed its contents. I allowed my sister to lead me to the bed and tuck me in. After blowing out the candle, she crawled under the covers on the other side.

  “Dearest, try not to worry,” she said. “I have always thought Mr. Darcy a better man than you do. I think all shall work out well.”

  “He will not marry me, Jane,” I said, my voice coming out utterly defeated.

  “How can you say that? You do not know for sure.”

  “I know.”

  “But how?”

  “Oh, do not ask me,” I cried. I would not begin to tell her how he had ruined her chances with Mr. Bingley, how he considered any alliance with our family with abhorrence. I could not break her heart. “And besides, I do not wish to marry him.”

  “But Lizzy, consider that he is rich and handsome and has a great estate in Derbyshire.”

  “There is more to a man than wealth and looks and great estates. I should never marry a man whose character I could not admire. Remember how he disregarded his father’s wishes and cheated Mr. Wickham of his inheritance.”

  Jane sighed. “No one is perfect, and you must remember, there are two sides to every story. Have you ever asked him about Mr. Wickham?”

  “I have and he has not denied it. Oh, what does it matter? Believe me when I tell you, he will not ask me to marry him.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “I just do.” I turned over then, welcoming the drowsiness caused by the sleeping draught as it released me from a world I could no longer face.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning I slept quite late. The sleeping potion had provided the first truly refreshing rest I had experienced in days. Glancing out the window, I could see that the sun had climbed high in the sky, and the morning fog was completely burned off.

  Suddenly, I recalled that my father’s meeting with Mr. Darcy was set for a little past mid-day, and I hurried to get dressed. Not bothering to call the maid, I washed, fastened my dress, pinned up my hair, and put on my shoes. I was pleased to see that the dark circles had now vanished from beneath my eyes, and I almost looked myself again.

  I found the breakfast room empty, but the teapot was still warm, and I poured myself a cup. A maid soon appeared, asking if I desired breakfast, which I refused.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Miss Jane took the children to the park across the way,” she answered, “but not until that Mr. Darcy shooed them reporters away from the front stoop.”

  “Reporters? Here?”

  “Yes, Miss, four or five of them. They been camped out there since early mornin’, pesterin’ me when I went out to pick up the milk and Firkin when he went for the paper.”

  “What do they want?”

  She looked down, appearing hesitant. “Don’t rightly know, Miss. Just askin’ lots of questions about you and the gentleman.”

  “Oh,” I said, sinking down upon a nearby chair.

  “We didn’t tell them nothin’, Miss, I promise. Neither Firkin nor me said a word.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “You say Mr. Darcy is here?”

  “Yes, Miss. He’s with Mr. Bennet and the master and mistress in the parlour.”

  “I see. Thank you; that will be all.”

  She left the room, and I placed the cup of tea on the table, having swallowed just a sip. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. An uncomfortable knot burned in my stomach at the thought of what was being discussed in the parlour.

  Well, I thought, I may as well face it. I would not have my father and uncle beg the man to marry me.

  In the hallway, I observed that the door to the room where they gathered was closed, but just outside, I stopped, for I could hear conversation within.

  “Naturally, I am aware of the inferiority of our alliance, of my family’s objections, indeed, of its being a degradation in their eyes,” Mr. Darcy said, “but that is a consequence I shall have to bear. There is nothing else to be done. We must marry and the sooner the better.”

  “Yes,” my uncle agreed. “The sooner the better for all concerned in view of the widespread publicity.”

  My pulse quickened, and I felt the blood rush to my face. How dare he! I thrust open the door and walked in without knocking.

  “Lizzy,” my aunt said, immediately crossing the room to take my hand. “Did you sleep well?”

  The others greeted me, and I somehow murmured my replies. All the while, I kept my eyes upon Mr. Darcy. He had bowed somewhat stiffly, but his colour was not heightened, nor did he appear ill at ease, but rather quite sure of himself.

  “My dear,” my father said, “come in and be seated. We discuss your and Mr. Darcy’s future, so naturally you should participate.”

  “Thank you, Father. I confess I am at a loss as to why he is here as I do not see our futures corresponding in any way.”

  “Well,” my uncle said, “you must realize the severity of the circumstances
. Mr. Darcy has come this morning, perfectly willing and accommodating. He agrees with your father and me that you be married as quickly as possible.”

  “Married? I fail to understand your meaning, Uncle. Mr. Darcy has not asked me to marry him, and I certainly have not agreed to any such union.”

  “But it is all arranged,” he said. “Things cannot be made right soon enough. I am sure you would agree.”

  “I do not agree.” My tone sounded harsh even to my ears, and I did not mean to insult my uncle. “Begging your pardon, Uncle, but I do not see the need to make anything right. Mr. Darcy and I went through a terrible experience, but we are now rescued unharmed. We can both go about our lives from now on as though it never happened. I certainly do not see any reason for marriage.”

  My father took my hand. “You must face facts. The whole city is talking about this. You and Mr. Darcy said you were married. Witnesses have attested to the fact. You were then held in the same room for several days and nights. Mr. Darcy said you even told the highwayman you carried his child!”

  I glared at Mr. Darcy. What had possessed him to reveal that?

  “Papá, that was only one of many ruses we used to protect ourselves. You know it is untrue.”

  “Of course I do, my dear, but it will come out at the trial. Your name will be blackened.”

  “Why? Why should it be told? I do not understand why this should be!”

  Mr. Darcy spoke then for the first time. “Might I speak with Elizabeth alone?”

  “If she agrees,” my father answered, turning to me.

  I shrugged, and he and the Gardiners departed the room, closing the door behind them. Mr. Darcy walked to the fireplace and then to the window. He clenched his hands and placed his fist at his mouth more than once. I felt a nervous fluttering in my stomach as my eyes followed him about the room. At last, he pulled a chair out and sat before me, leaning forward.

  “Elizabeth, the time has come to be sensible. There is no other way. We must marry.”

  “No,” I said.

  He flinched, recoiling as though I had struck him. “No? Just the singular word — no? This is all the reply that I am to have the honour of expecting? I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.”