Lizzy and the Lord of Frogs

by Lady Waller

  The sun dipped low, casting earie shadow,s and a chill settled into the ground.

  She flipped to a chapter on enchantments. An involuntary shiver shook her shoulders.

  “Are you cold?” Darcy asked.

  His kindness only added to her frustration. She wanted to go back several days when she was ignorant of enchantments and ignorant of her misjudgment of Mr. Darcy.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, keeping her eyes focused on the book.

  “Perhaps we should head inside to a room with a fire?”

  “Mr. Darcy, I think I should know if I’m cold or not.”

  He backed away and bobbed his head.

  A sigh escaped her lips. “Enchantments can follow no rhyme or reason once they are cast. The cosmos determines the specifics and most often cannot be influenced as to the ending. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” He inched closer.

  “Unless the initial caster attempts to alter the enchantment.” Elizabeth closed the book. “We know that Wickham is the reason why, but we can only assume that he forced or paid this caster to set the enchantment.”

  Darcy croaked.

  “We need to find the caster,” she said. “And since you have not been too keen on my fairy theory, I’m going to assume this is another entity who can spell. Like a witch.”

  Darcy croaked.

  “A witch,” she repeated. She’d been arguing with Wickham and Lydia about Mrs. Hucklebee when he’d stormed off.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and allowed the epiphany to surround her thoughts. Wickham in the woods. Mrs. Hucklebee with the marks around her wrists. Mrs. Hucklebee chanting over Papa’s pocket watch. Mr. Darcy had tried to get the watch for her. That was how she found him.

  Elizabeth scooped Mr. Darcy into her hands and twirled. “I’ve got it! I’ve solved the riddle! I know where to go next.”

  Mr. Darcy rocked in her hands. “Please stop spinning.”

  After one more twirl, she flopped to the ground and laughed. Darcy hopped to the grass beside her.

  Elizabeth sobered. “I’m going to save you.”

  The intensity returned to his small, black eyes. “I never doubted you would.”

  Glancing away from him, she plucked a piece of grass and toyed with it. “Mr. Darcy, when you return to normal, I hope we can be friends.”

  There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity before he spoke. “I should like that very much.”

  “Lizzy! You’re going to catch a chill. Come inside.” Elizabeth’s father called to her from the kitchen door.

  In haste, she tied the apron around her waist. She placed Mr. Darcy in the pocket for what she hoped was one of the last times. “Tomorrow morning we shall slip away early and find Mrs. Hucklebee in the woods. I believe she is the key to everything.”

  “Where am I going to sleep tonight?” he asked.

  She bit the edge of her lip. “Tonight, you are not a man and I shall not think of you as one. You’ll stay in mine and Jane’s room. But after tonight, we shall never speak of it again.”

  “Agreed.”

  Elizabeth bounced into the house feeling light upon her feet. Her mother caught her in the hallway.

  “Take off that apron at once,” Mama said.

  She tried to think of an excuse to keep it on. “But Mama…”

  “Your strange attitude these past couple of days has scared away Mr. Collins. He’s just returned to say he’s going to speak with Mr. Lucas about an engagement to Charlotte.”

  “Oh no.” Her poor friend married to that bully of a man.

  “You should feel remorse. You’ve missed your chance and now we’ve no way of turning the tides of his affection without causing a scandal.” Mama batted her eyes as if she were holding back tears.

  Elizabeth had seen this act more than once. “I meant I’m sorry that Charlotte must suffer him. I’m glad to be free of his attentions.”

  Mama sucked in a sharp breath. “You ungrateful girl. After your father dies, the rest of us shall be cast out on the street.”

  Her mother stoked her ire like a poker rekindling flames in the fireplace. “Then let us hope father lives a long life.”

  “What I hope is that one day you have a house full of girls to worry over. Then you’ll finally understand my plight.”

  Elizabeth grabbed a fresh baked roll from the counter, still ignoring Mama’s request to remove the apron. “Then I shall pray for sons. Good night, Mama.”

  She whisked past her mother and trotted up the stairs. How embarrassing to have Mr. Darcy as a witness to their quarrel. Once in her room she found Jane on the edge of the bed, tears running a path down her face.

  “Whatever is the matter,” Elizabeth asked. She sat down on the bed near her sister, leaving the apron on until she could remove it and Mr. Darcy without revealing his presence.

  “It hurts me to see Mr. Bingley so distraught. If they do not find Mr. Darcy or his body by the end of the week, he’ll have to return to London to deliver the news to Miss Georgiana.”

  Mr. Darcy moved around beneath the fabric and Elizabeth placed a hand on him to hold him still. “I have hope that Mr. Darcy will return soon and be relatively unharmed.”

  “Usually, you think the worst and I am the forever optimist. It is true that you’ve been acting strangely the past couple of days.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And who has made this observation? Mama or Mr. Collins?”

  Jane sniffed. “Both, I’m afraid.”

  The vanity held several handkerchiefs in a drawer, and Elizabeth rose to grab one for Jane. “Dry your tears and go down for supper.”

  “You’re not joining us tonight?”

  Elizabeth faked a cough into her hand. “I’m feeling poorly, so I think I’ll eat this roll and read until you come to bed.”

  “You’re the worst liar, Lizzy. But I understand how a book is more suitable company than Mr. Collins. I dare hope he doesn’t bore us again with more sermons.”

  She blew her older sister a kiss as she walked out the door. Mr. Darcy leapt from the pocket onto the bed. “Your sister Jane truly cares for Mr. Bingley?”

  “I believe her deeply in love with him already.”

  “Hmm.”

  “My sister is modest and not one to overly express her feelings as do Lydia and Kitty, but she would not shed tears for just any gentleman.”

  He crawled towards the headboard and rested on her pillow. “Will you read to me?”

  Her cheeks warmed at the intimate request. Only a frog, not a gentleman, she reminded herself. “Lord Byron’s poetry perhaps?”

  “Very fashionable of you.”

  She smiled and pulled the book from under her pillow. “I’m more than a simple country maiden, sir.”

  He closed his eyes. “You have proven that tenfold, madam.”

  Not wanting to join him on the bed just yet, she sat in the vanity chair and read aloud until she was sure he’d fallen into a deep slumber. Tomorrow, if all went as planned, his ordeal would end. From Jane’s side of the bed, she slipped under the covers and positioned her head in a way that Jane wouldn’t notice Mr. Darcy on the pillow.

  “Until tomorrow, lord of frogs,” she whispered.

  §

  Darcy opened one eye, not sure if Elizabeth’s deep breaths were the reason he’d awakened. The moon showed bright through the window where the curtains had been left open. In slumber she resembled an angel, with her soft lips slightly parted and her dark lashes resting on her cheeks.

  Something hard tapped his head and he focused his gaze on the intruding instrument. His body froze in place as he recognized the end of a pistol barrel. George Wickham stood over Elizabeth’s bed with a finger pressed against his lips. With the other hand, he pointed the pistol at Elizabeth and Jane. Both women slept, unaware of the insidious presence.

  The vile creature had snuck into their bedchamber and now threatened their lives. Helplessness engulfed him. He understood that he wasn’t to make a sound and nodd
ed in silent agreement. With a jarring force, Wickham grabbed Darcy and with quiet movements backed out of the room.

  Wickham squeezed his body so hard Darcy could scarcely breathe. His heart thumped, rapidly mirroring the pulse in his captor’s warm hand. Once they’d made it to the garden, he expected the man to kill him and throw his body in the bushes. Would the enchantment end with his death? Would his sister have a body to bury in the family tomb?

  His thoughts turned to Elizabeth. He didn’t get to say thank you for all she’d done for him. He didn’t get to say goodbye.

  At the edge of Longbourn’s garden, he croaked long and hard, the sound filled with anguish. The sound echoed in the dark night. At least Elizabeth was now safe from the threat of the pistol. Wickham would be a fool to return to the house.

  His captor shook him hard. “Shut up, you disgusting creature.”

  “Just kill me and get it over with.” Darcy fought against the dizziness of being carried so carelessly. “Then I won’t have to continue to suffer your company a moment longer.”

  “Always the better man, aren’t you? Even when you’re the lowliest creature in the Shire. I will kill you, but first you’ll tell me everything Miss Elizabeth knows. Killing you and the witch will be done with ease, but I don’t wish to kill the Bennet girl if I can prove her to be insane instead.”

  “You’re not clever enough to best her,” Darcy said. “I haven’t been able to tell her the truth because of the curse, but she figured out every detail with barely a clue.”

  “Impossible. She’s but a simple woman and they are too easy to manipulate.” Wickham’s voice quivered with unveiled disgust. He holstered the pistol to push through the bushes.

  “I fear you underestimate the fairer sex.” Darcy glanced around, noting they were taking the same path into the woods that Elizabeth had used a couple of days prior. Why return him into the woods to kill him?

  His eyes adjusted against the bright moonlight. They followed along the deep ravine where Elizabeth had dropped her father’s pocket watch. If she had been visiting her friend, then the woman must live nearby. He had no way to warn her.

  Wickham stopped as if gauging his direction. A series of croaks resonated around him. Darcy’s lady frogs bounced through the bushes and off of the trees. The group had grown considerably in the day and a half he’d been with Elizabeth.

  He counted twenty but there had to be more. Twisting his head, behind him he caught a wisp of white peek out from behind a tree.

  No! Why had she followed them into the woods? Darcy struggled against Wickham’s hand.

  “Be still or I’ll crush you now.”

  Darcy croaked. The lady frogs gathered closer, as did Elizabeth.

  A branch cracked and Wickham started. He withdrew his pistol. “Who goes there? Show yourself!”

  Darcy wouldn’t allow the man to hurt Elizabeth. He croaked and croaked in rapid succession, sending the lady frogs into a flurry of movement.

  Wickham twisted and turned as the lady frogs began to land near his boots. One jumped on his face and he wiped it away. He swung his arm around. “Get away from me.”

  The frogs were faster than him and in a hoard jumped on his face, arms, legs, and boots. He half-dropped Darcy to fend off the attackers and in an attempt to keep his grasp, wrenched Darcy’s leg until there was a snap.

  The pain seared through Darcy’s body. Thick blood oozed from where the bone protruded through the leathery skin. Darcy squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

  When he opened them again, Elizabeth appeared beside them. In her disheveled gown, with her long brown hair wild about her shoulders, he couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful avenging angel. She raised a broken branch and smacked it hard against Wickham’s arm. The pistol dropped to the ground. She repeated the action on the opposite arm and Wickham released his grasp on Darcy. The frogs continued to bounce on and off Wickham until he couldn’t distinguish one frog from the next.

  Elizabeth scooped up Darcy and backed away from the scores of frogs attacking Wickham. He batted at them and twisted in circles until he stumbled over the edge of the ravine.

  “No!” Elizabeth gasped. She crept to the edge and they both peered over the side.

  Wickham’s body laid on the rocks bent in an unnatural position. Even in the darkness, Darcy could see the man’s eyes were open in the stare of death.

  “He’s gone,” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth held him close to her chest. “You’re bleeding.”

  He moaned. “I’m feeling weak.”

  “We’re not far from Mrs. Hucklebee’s shack.” She held him close and pushed through the bushes. “I pray she’ll know what to do.”

  “H—how?”

  “Shh. Save your strength. I felt Wickham lift you from my pillow. I was never far behind and waited for the right moment.” Her tear-filled voice caught on the word moment. She sniffed. “I thought he’d kill you before I had a chance to intervene.”

  “You are quite the heroine,” he whispered.

  He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the night. Crickets chirping and frogs singing to one another. The frog songs held a touch of sadness and Darcy hated that so many had fallen into the ravine with Wickham. All to save him. The creatures weren’t to be underestimated, much like his Elizabeth. His Elizabeth.

  If he lived and returned to human, he’d still never deserve such an amazing woman. All his prejudices against her and her family washed away. He’d rather have a woman who would die for him than any noble-born lady in England.

  If only he were allowed to live, he thought as darkness clouded his vision and took over his consciousness.

  §

  Elizabeth fought the onslaught of tears escaping her eyes and running paths down her cheeks. Darcy felt so limp, so lifeless in her hands. Please, she prayed. Please don’t die. She rounded a grouping of trees and came upon Mrs. Hucklebee’s shack. A candle in the window flickered like a beacon of hope.

  The door opened wide before she had a chance to knock.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, dearest.”

  “He’s hurt.” In the light, Darcy’s frog body appeared bloody and mangled, a sight much worse than she could have imagined.

  “Oh dear.” Mrs. Hucklebee took him into her hands and placed him on her small table. Her eyes watered. “I don’t think there is anything I can do for him now.”

  “Change him back. End the enchantment.” A few sobs escaped her lips and her shoulders shook with their magnitude. “H—he’ll be fine if you turn him back.”

  Mrs. Hucklebee tore a piece of her dress and placed it over the majority of his body, leaving only his eyes and mouth uncovered. “Once the enchantment is cast, the cosmos and spirits determine the outcome. If he is meant to return to human form, then it shall happen.”

  Elizabeth dropped to her knees, her face level with the table. Her vision blurred with tears and desperation. “Mr. Darcy, can you hear me? You’re going to be fine. I’ll find another way.”

  His mouth parted and he took a deep breath. After he released it, he opened one eye. “You have done your best, and I shall forever love you for that. When Wickham stole me from your pillow, my only thought was I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye.” Her heart tore into a million pieces. She’d been so wrong about him, about everything. “I want to tell you how I’ve misjudged you and how you made me smile and so many other things. It’s not fair for you to leave now when my feelings for you have grown.”

  Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her lips against his frog mouth in a simple kiss. “Frog or man, I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  A puff of breath released from his mouth and then his body stilled. His lifeless black eyes stared off past her out the window. Elizabeth backed away into the corner of the shack and placed her head against her knees. Sobs racked her body and her ears rang as the sorrow engulfed her.

  The table cracked and crashed to the ground. Startled,
Elizabeth jerked her head and wiped away the tears.

  Mr. Darcy—the fully clothed human version—lay in a heap on the dirt floor. “Ugh.”

  She gathered her skirts and crawled to him. “You’re alive. I don’t believe it.”

  “I can scarcely believe it myself,” he said, leaning up on one elbow. “Although, I think my leg is still broken.”

  Elizabeth pulled the bottom of his trousers up until she revealed the broken bone protruding through his skin. She tore the bottom of her skirt and gently wrapped it around the wound. “You need a doctor to set the break.”

  “Elizabeth,” he said and reached for her.

  She took his hand and kissed the knuckles. “Shh. We have to find a way to get you back to town.”

  “It’s my turn to help, dearest. I’ll finish dressing his wound.” Mrs. Hucklebee kneeled beside Darcy. “You need to get back home before you are missed.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “She’s right. There is so much to explain that can’t be explained. Wickham’s death will be investigated by the regiment, and I don’t want you to admit to any involvement.”

  “But he was going to kill you and Mrs. Hucklebee.”

  “No one will believe the story as it has unfolded over the past few days. We must come up with a tale that people will accept as truth.” He pulled his hand from hers and cupped her face. “Mrs. Hucklebee will help me. Go home and I shall come for you.”

  Elizabeth nodded and a final tear slipped from her eye. Darcy caught it with his thumb and wiped it away.

  “And when I come for you, I shall be asking for your hand in marriage.”

  Elizabeth smiled and the broken pieces of her heart mended. “And when you come for me, I shall say yes.”

  Chapter Nine