by Lady Waller
“Can these frogs speak?” she asked.
“No.”
One of the smaller frogs hopped forward and bumped her little frog on the nose.
“Are they your family?” she asked.
“No. They are a group of females who I’ve yet to be able to persuade to leave me alone.”
“Lady frogs. How interesting.” If the lady frogs could have expressions, Elizabeth believed they would all be wearing adoring ones. They hovered around the little frog, seeking out his favor.
“How long have you been out here?” she asked.
“Croak,” he said.
If a frog could show frustration, Elizabeth believed her little friend was deeply frustrated over his use of human language.
He bobbed up and down and twisted his head from side to side. She picked up a brown leaf and toyed with it, tearing little pieces off and letting them drop. The smaller female frogs hopped about between them.
What if she was asking the wrong questions? A few years back, her closest friend Charlotte had given her a book about fairies from Scotland and enchantments they cast on unsuspecting humans. Elizabeth had found it frightening and never read to the end, but what if the little frog was under a fairy’s enchantment? It could be one where he had to finish a quest before he could break the spell. Therefore, he couldn’t just give her the answers she required to assist him. She cringed as another piece of realism chipped away. Realistic or not, she decided to test her theory.
“Is this a leaf?” she asked.
“Of course it is,” he said.
“Are we in a forest?”
“Yes.” His tone took on an air of agitation.
She arched an eyebrow. “And your name is…”
“Croak!”
“Aha. You can’t answer any questions I ask directly about how you came to be, can you?”
“I don’t think so.” He blinked twice. “How clever you are.”
She smiled down at him. “I think you are under a fairy’s enchantment—as ridiculous as I sound. But why don’t we focus on one problem at a time? I need Papa’s pocket watch and to return home before I’m missed. If you can help me with those two things, I’ll grant you the favor you wanted in exchange yesterday. In fact, I’ll grant you as many favors as you need within reason.”
“Agreed. I would have had the watch for you sooner, but a hungry owl spent most of the night waiting for me in that tree.” He used his front leg to point to a tree beside them.
“How awful for you.” She stood up and checked the trees. “I shall watch for birds while you get the pocket watch.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth watched the skies and kept an eye on the little frog. He crawled through the tangle of roots hanging over the ravine. After he made it to the very edge, he jumped to a dirt ledge near the watch. His focus and determination were an amazing sight. With another jump he made it to the ledge with the watch and hooked one of his front legs through the gold loop above the winder. He glanced around and then back up at her.
“How can I help?” she asked.
“The watch is much heavier than I estimated.”
“I think we will have to work together.” She knelt down by the edge of the ravine and used one hand to hold onto the roots. The other she stretched as far as she could towards him. “Jump to my hand and I’ll catch you.”
He rocked from side to side. “Perhaps we should think of another way.”
She stretched a bit further, her shoulder burning while her other hand gripped the roots so tight little shards of bark tore into her skin. “Little frog, I need you to trust me.”
The frog nodded and squatted with his belly close to the dirt before thrusting forward with his back legs. She swung her hand and grasped him gently from the air. Her little frog hung between her opened fingers, but the watch slipped from his front leg and bounced down the side of the ravine, this time to the bottom. With a crack, the watch hit the rocks below.
“That’s unfortunate,” the frog said. His little body quivered in her hand.
Elizabeth pulled hard on the roots until she was upright. Sadness washed over her. “Indeed it is.”
“And with the failure goes our bargain.”
She held her hand up until the little frog’s nose paralleled hers. “We tried and that’s what is important. Papa will forgive me for losing his watch, but he would not forgive me for allowing a man to suffer an enchantment as a frog. Is that your favor? To help you turn back into a man?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Then that is what we shall do.” She opened her apron pocket and placed the little frog inside. A few croaks greeted her from the ground. “Sorry lady frogs. You shall have to find another lord to follow.”
Chapter Six
Darcy rocked back and forth against Elizabeth’s legs inside the pocket. He clung to the soft cloth, but it didn’t stop him from bouncing around. The motion reminded him of a particularly rough sea voyage he’d taken as a child. “Do I have to sit inside the apron?”
She stopped walking and peered down at him. “I’m sorry. Is it terribly uncomfortable?”
Mortifyingly embarrassing, he thought. But he couldn’t say that out loud. “It’s difficult not being able to see where we’re going.”
How preposterous that he knew who she was but he couldn’t tell her about the witch or Mr. Wickham or even his name. He was completely at her mercy. Along the way he’d tried several attempts to tell her about what happened in the woods, but all that came out of his mouth were a series of croaks.
“Would you prefer to sit on my shoulder like a bird?” Her soft brown eyes danced with merriment.
The teasing darkened his mood. He answered with a flat, “No.”
“We’re almost to Longbourn. Then I will let you out and we will solve this frog riddle together.”
His mood lightened at her words. Elizabeth had been the correct choice for an ally. Not that he’d had too many alternatives, but reaching out to her instead of leaping after men on horses had worked out in his favor. He’d find a way to get through to her about the witch. She could take him and they’d force the haggard woman to turn him back human. Then he’d deal with George Wickham.
Another streak of anger inflamed him at the abuse Elizabeth had undergone in the woods by the hands of Wickham. The man had no right to touch her.
“I can’t keep calling you little frog and since you can’t tell me your name, perhaps I can choose one for you for now.”
“I don’t see why not,” he answered. What she called him didn’t matter until he could reveal his real name.
“Papa always hoped for a boy, but unfortunately he was saddled with me and my four sisters. Quite a burden. He did mention that if he were to ever have a boy he’d call him William. Do you dislike William?”
Darcy bobbed his head. William was indeed close enough to his given name to provide him a familiar comfort. “William is a good name.”
“Lord William of the frogs,” she said, laughter sitting heavy on her voice.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, reminded of a conversation they’d once had at Netherfield.
“Is it so horrible to share a laugh with a friend?” she asked.
“I suppose not.” Had Elizabeth considered them to be friends when they’d talked at Netherfield? He’d been so taken with her ability to shrug off the snobbery of the Bingley sisters that it never occurred to him that she’d considered him a potential friend. At the ball he could tell she no longer had a smile to share with him. Was that the doing of Wickham? Would she look at both of them differently after the way Wickham had treated her in the woods?
“Oh no,” she said, her voice strained with irritation.
“What is it?” He climbed towards the top of the pocket but she bumped him back down.
“Stay quiet,” she said under her breath.
“Miss Elizabeth!” A man’s voice rang out from nearby. Not Wickham or Mr. Bennet, as Darcy had spoken to both men
enough to know them.
“Mr. Collins. I didn’t expect you to rise so early after last night’s entertainment,” Elizabeth said.
Ah, Mr. Collins. The parson who boasted about being in Darcy’s aunt’s favor. Darcy should’ve warned the man that Aunt Catherine’s favor could turn quicker than the tide. At the Netherfield Ball he’d stayed close to Elizabeth’s side. Did the man fancy her? Slowly, so that she wouldn’t notice his movements, Darcy climbed to the top of the pocket.
Mr. Collins approached them, his shoulders squared and his chin tilted, giving him an air of authority. “The Lord’s service begins at sunrise. It is Lady Catherine’s wish that I be available from sunrise to sunset and I find it imprudent not to disappoint her ladyship.”
Darcy cringed at the man’s use of his aunt’s name to establish influence.
“I’ll leave you to your work, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth took a step forward, but Mr. Collins blocked her path.
“You’ve disobeyed your mother by going into the Dark Woods again, haven’t you?” Collins asked.
“I don’t wish to be rude, but my actions are not your concern.”
Collins’ eyebrows drew together. “Then it is a good thing I’ve spoken with your mother about the best way to curtail your rebellious behavior.”
Elizabeth pressed a hand against her stomach, almost knocking him from his perch. Darcy glanced up at her paling face.
“And how exactly would you propose to curtail my behavior?” she asked.
Darcy’s dislike for the man rose tenfold.
“Marriage. I have asked your parent’s permission and they have granted it.”
“Without speaking to me first, both my parents gave you permission to marry me?”
Collins backed up a step. “Well, they gave me permission to ask.”
Elizabeth glanced down at Darcy and rolled her eyes to the side before focusing her attention on her obviously unwanted suitor. “Mr. Collins, I don’t have time for marriage proposals this morning. Or the curtailing of my behavior. I’m on an urgent quest.”
Darcy wondered if his wide frog mouth could smile. If so, her answer made him smile. How many women would have fluttered and batted their eyes at a man proposing marriage. Not Elizabeth.
She jiggled the pocket so that he once again fell back down to the bottom. There were no further words from Mr. Collins and Darcy closed his eyes, imagining the man’s expression of disappointment and confusion.
Several doors opened and closed and boots clumped on a wooden floor. Smells of meat cooking and vegetables boiling hit him hard but didn’t entice his appetite. They were inside Elizabeth’s house. No one else confronted her, and he felt them climb the stairs to the second floor.
After another door shut, Elizabeth scooped her hand in the pocket and lifted him out. She set him on a bed in the middle of room.
“There,” she said. “Now we can think properly without interruption or fear of owls.”
Darcy took in the small bedroom, noting a vanity with an oval mirror in one corner and a chifferobe against the wall near the window. The wallpaper had a pink background with a pattern of green garland vine leaves. The room suited Elizabeth well and the pink of the wallpaper cast a glow against her pale skin, making her eyes even more compelling.
“William?” She sat on the edge of the bed.
Embarrassment made his tongue heavy. He’d been lost in thoughts while admiring her. He puffed his chest and searched for any other topic than the one sitting at the edge of his mind. After several seconds, he gave in. “Are you going to marry that man from the garden? The one who proposed just now?”
She scoffed. “How could I marry a man who admits he wishes to control me?”
Darcy tilted his head. “For security and a home. Did he not say he was well acquainted with a Lady?”
She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “Should I suffer a man who doesn’t truly love me just so I can be mistress of my own home and acquainted with a Lady?”
He edged closer to her hand. “What do you want?”
A smile curved the edges of her lips. “A man who cares for my opinions and doesn’t mind that I am not so very accomplished.”
Her words made his skin crawl, and he thought back to how he’d once lectured her on what defined an accomplished woman. He’d been nervous and reciting what he’d been told made up accomplishments by society standards. Perhaps next time he’d ask her opinion on the subject and listen. But only if he were to break the spell and return to human. As much as he wanted to spend the afternoon learning more about her, they had to focus on the task before them.
Confined to speaking only when he didn’t make any close mention of who he was or how he came to be, he had to form all his questions correctly. He thought for a minute, and then proceeded. “Do you have a plan for how to grant me the favor?”
Elizabeth stood and tossed her hands in the air. “You are so easy to converse with that I almost forgot we need to fix your predicament. I need to find the book on fairies.”
Darcy blinked at the compliment. Easy to converse with. He liked that.
A harsh knock from outside drew a gasp from her. She untied the apron and tossed it over his head. “Do not move.”
The hinges creaked as she opened the door.
“Who are you talking to?” A woman asked.
“No one, Mama,” Elizabeth said.
The woman grunted. “I’ve sent an invitation for the Bingleys to join us for supper. Your father and Jane are once again assisting with the search of Mr. Darcy for all the good it’ll do them. If that man is not found soon, Mr. Bingley may never offer for Jane. You and your sisters are to once again entertain Mr. Collins until your father returns.”
“Oh, Mama.” Elizabeth coughed a couple of times. “I’m not feeling well. May I spend some time alone in my room reading?”
Her mother sighed loud enough to shake the walls. “The rest of my daughters are so eager to please.” The voice faded down the hallway.
He heard the door click and Elizabeth pulled the apron from his head.
“I don’t think we’ll be disturbed again for a while.” She dropped to her knees and pulled up the dust cover away from the bottom of the bed. “That book is here somewhere.”
A hunger pang twisted in his gut. When was the last time he’d had a meal? It seemed his frog body needed nourishment often. He crawled to the edge where she rifled under the bed. “I hate to ask this, but…”
She sat up until her nose was close to his. “Yes?”
“I need to eat.” He swallowed hard. “And take care of some other private matters.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks began turning the same color as the walls. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked if you needed something. Shall I take you to the gardens?”
“Yes, thank you. It won’t take long, I promise.”
She tied on the apron and laid her hand flat so he could crawl onto it. He liked the warmth of her skin and missed it when she set him in the pocket. They bounced down the stairs—well, he bounced while she walked—and made it outside and into the garden without encountering any obstacles.
When she stopped, she pulled him from the pocket and set him in the grass. “We are at the far edge of the garden where we can’t be seen from the house, but we have to be careful since there are chickens and other livestock running amok. I’ve brought you closer to the hog pen where the leftover slop will have attracted bugs.”
How very considerate of her, but he didn’t want her to stand over him. “I shall need you to turn your back.”
She laughed and twirled away from him. “What a modest enchanted frog you are, William.”
He couldn’t stomach the idea of her watching him eat a bug or two. When he returned to human, the actions he’d taken as a frog would still be prevalent in her mind.
It didn’t take long for a fly to cross his path. He snapped his tongue and brought the buzzing creature to a quick death in his mouth. One more and he should be satisfied for at
least a few hours.
He hopped a little closer to the scraps of food that had missed the hog trough. A fly lit on something resembling a corncob. Another snap of his tongue and he’d accomplished his mission. Whilst Elizabeth still had her back turned, he took care of his other “business” too. As he was ready to call out to her, the annoying Mr. Collins called her name.
Collins crossed the garden and a group of chickens followed close at his boot heels. “Miss Elizabeth, I simply must speak with you.”
Darcy jumped to the side of a fence post to get better positioning. The chickens must have caught sight of his movement because they perked up and gaggled towards him.
Elizabeth backed up to the post and cupped her hands behind her. He jumped into her palm.
He couldn’t see Mr. Collins but his shadow on the ground appeared beside them and engulfed Elizabeth’s. A new wave of irritation rumbled through Darcy’s frame.
“Miss Elizabeth, your mother said you were feeling unwell.”
Her hands shook slightly, jiggling his legs. “I decided a bit of fresh air might help, but it hasn’t. I’ll return to my room.”
“Perhaps your visit to the woods has brought on this illness. Hunsford does not have such temptations. When we are married, you shall have many children and other such duties to keep you busy enough.”
“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth’s tone had taken on a sharp edge. “I have not agreed to marry you nor do I plan to do so in the future.”
Collins wasted their time. Darcy crawled from Elizabeth’s hand up her arm to her shoulder. Her head jerked to the side but she didn’t attempt to move him.
The next time Collins opened his mouth Darcy jumped and landed on the middle of his face.
“Agh!” The man shrieked and stumbled backwards over the flock of meandering chickens. “Get it off! Get it off!”
“Be still, sir. It’s only a frog.” Elizabeth scooped Darcy from Collins’ face. Giggles slipped from lips and her shoulders shook. She slipped him inside her pocket and he felt the rhythm of her walking across the garden.
