by Jennifer Joy
Mrs. Beeton held the bonnet out to Elizabeth. "I had the groom ready two horses when Mr. Collins asked for the doctor."
Elizabeth fumbled with the ribbon on the bonnet, attempting to tie it with shaking fingers as she ran down the stairs and across the entrance hall. There was a reason she preferred to walk over the countryside rather than ride over it on a horse.
Swallowing her panic and extracting her fingers from the mess of ribbon at her chin, she ran down the steps to the courtyard after Colonel Fitzwilliam.
The groom had a mounting block ready for her. Elizabeth clambered up it and settled herself into the saddle before fear rendered her useless.
She ought not to have done it, but she looked down. It was such a long way down to the ground, her head spun and her pulse raced.
But it was too late to ask if Lady Catherine's stables housed another horse — a shorter horse. Nor would Elizabeth spare the precious minutes it would take to exchange mounts when it was clear her horse had been selected for the speed with which its long legs would take her to William.
She swallowed hard and focused on her goal. She placed William firmly in her mind's eye and recited the kings of England to calm her nerves before they fluttered and strained in a manner worthy of her mother.
"Ready?" the colonel asked.
Too scared to speak past the panic lodged in her throat, Elizabeth nodded and held on for dear life when her horse bolted after Colonel Fitzwilliam's mount at full speed.
Her heart leapt up into her throat and she weaved her fingers through the horse's mane, gripping the reins so tightly she lost feeling in her hands. She trusted her horse to keep up with the colonel since the speed at which they traveled pulled tears out of the corners of her eyes and blurred her vision. The hoofbeats of the groom following them with an extra horse faded as she raced forward.
She knew she had done a horrible job of tying her bonnet down when it flew off somewhere between Rosings and a path Colonel Fitzwilliam cut through to get to the lane before the constable's cart could reach Hunsford. She gritted her teeth when branches scratched at her arms and pulled at her hair.
Elizabeth prayed they had successfully intercepted the cart before it reached the village when they slowed to a bone-jarring trot, thus putting an end to her hair-raising gallop on the back of a rather tall horse. All she could see was a blob ahead of her, but when the Colonel stopped, she breathed a sigh of relief and dried her eyes as she slipped down the side of the horse to fall in a heap at its hooves.
Scrambling to her feet before she was noticed, she brushed the dust from her skirt and, by sheer force of will, walked upright to the back of the cart. To William.
She prayed the cart did not move as she grasped onto the iron bars holding William inside. It was the only thing preventing her from falling over until her legs could carry her weight reliably.
If Elizabeth lived one hundred years more, she would never forget the image of him. He was surrounded by bars and shackles, but the joy in his eyes on seeing her granted him a dignity and a beauty that took her recently recovered breath away.
She pulled on the lock in the vain hope it would spring loose. She heard the colonel speaking rather forcefully with the constable.
She reached through the bars, and William knelt down on the other side cradling her hands between his own. She would ride a thousand horses for the man kissing her scratched knuckles.
"You are too kind to trifle with me, Elizabeth. If your feelings remain the same as they were when I last spoke with you at the parsonage, then tell me immediately. Do I have any reason for hope?" he asked, his breath tickling her palm and making her legs wobble worse than the horse had.
The tension of Lady Catherine's accusations against her, William's arrest, her ladyship's apoplexy, and the sight of the only man she could ever love wrongfully imprisoned tightened around her so that she laughed to loosen its hold. "I do not have the custom of declaring my love on a whim or fancy. I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. There exists no other man whom I admire and respect as I do you. I would spend every waking hour in your company, and dream of you in my sleep lest I miss your company."
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered without hesitation.
They clasped each other's hands through the bars. What she would not give for him to hold her in his arms, to taste his lips, and twine her fingers through the curls at his neck as she longed to do.
Chapter 32
The colonel stormed around the corner, his complexion as red as a regimental coat. The constable appeared as if he wished to toss Colonel Fitzwilliam into the back of the cart with William.
Elizabeth was in too good a humor to allow their dark moods to spoil her moment. She had said, "Yes," to Fitzwilliam Darcy, and nothing (not even a murder accusation) would wedge itself between them. "What is the problem, gentlemen?" she asked lightly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam poked his thumb in the direction of the constable. "He will not release Darcy until the magistrate returns on the morrow."
The constable tightened his arms across his chest. "I take my orders from the magistrate. If he were to learn I allowed a prisoner who confessed to the worst crime known to man to go free, he would be greatly displeased. When the people of Hunsford find out, I will lose their trust and their business."
His reasoning was solid, but so was Elizabeth's. She tilted her chin and chewed on her lip before speaking. "I wonder how you will manage when it becomes known that Lady Catherine blames you for causing her apoplexy."
The constable took a step back. She had him.
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "I imagine the magistrate holds Lady Catherine in high regard and would not take kindly to the threats your actions have caused her ladyship by depriving her of her favorite nephew in her time of need."
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded gravely, though Elizabeth saw a twinkle of laughter in his eyes.
He said, "He is the only one who can bring her comfort in her distress. I do not think that would be the case if she believed him guilty of killing her only daughter, do you, good sir?"
The constable contorted his face and punched his palm. "You put me in a difficult place. I would never want it be said that I caused any harm to her ladyship, and yet I cannot let the prisoner go free until the real culprit reveals himself. I have to fulfill my duties to the people of Hunsford. They trust me."
William said, "If you will allow me to return to Rosings, and I make it known I am still under suspicion, that my aunt's influence is the only reason for my release, the real criminal may make himself manifest. His confidence in getting away with his crime may grow. And we will be there to see any missteps, which we would report to you directly."
"You swear you will not leave Rosings?"
William placed his hand over his heart. "On my honor and before these witnesses, I swear it."
The constable grumbled as he unlocked the cart, the hinges of the bars squeaking in protest. "I will let you go on the understanding you do not leave Rosings until this sordid business is brought to a satisfying conclusion for all. You must catch the real killer. For her ladyship's sake, I will guard my silence, but I cannot keep it secret much longer. This cart does not get much use, and several villagers saw me driving it out to the estate."
William reassured him, "It is as her ladyship would wish it. I thank you, and I will alert you to any progress we make in the discovery of the murderer."
Elizabeth felt William press his hand against the small of her back as he guided her to the horses held by one of Lady Catherine's grooms.
The cart clattered away, and the groom handed the reins of the horse Elizabeth had ridden to William.
"Have you sent for the doctor?" he asked while Elizabeth stared at the top of the saddle and mustered her courage for the ride awaiting her.
Colonel Fitzwilliam told him of the measures they had taken to care for their Aunt Catherine as he swung his leg over his horse with the ease of one much accustomed to ridi
ng. Unlike herself.
Elizabeth's heart was already racing before William wrapped his hands around her waist to assist her onto the sidesaddle.
"I did not know you were such an accomplished horsewoman. There are few who can keep up with Richard," he said, bursting with pride. A pride she did not deserve.
"You greatly exaggerate my talent, for I assure you I have none where horses are concerned. I have not ridden a horse these many years. It was only my desperation to see you that enabled me to hang on, but now that you are here, I fear my courage is failing me. Just looking up at the saddle makes me dizzy." Had they not been in such a hurry to return to Lady Catherine, she would have suggested they walk to Rosings.
She hated to disappoint William, but when his pride turned to a look of admiration, her honesty was justly rewarded.
Elizabeth had never been so beautiful to Darcy as she was at that moment — with her hair disheveled and curling wildly around her face, her bright eyes and rosy cheeks, and even the dirt gracing the front of her gown. (Miss Bingley would have been appalled.) Elizabeth would never back down from a challenge, and Darcy loved her all the more for it.
"We cannot afford to lose any time returning to my aunt. I fear walking is out of the question, but under the circumstances, it is proper for a gentleman to come to the assistance of his lady."
To the groom, he said, "You may return this horse back to the stables. I will ensure Miss Bennet's safe return to Rosings on my horse." He held the reins out for the man to take.
Before Elizabeth could fully comprehend what he intended to do, he swooped her off her feet and carried her in his arms to the waiting horse. Her gasp of surprise soon turned to one of delight, and she nearly undid Darcy when she snuggled against his chest and buried her face against his neck. He heard her breathe in and felt her breath tickle the tender flesh around his ear.
She tightened her grasp around his neck when he lifted her onto the saddle and swung up behind her, nestling her in his lap where she sighed contentedly like one of Georgiana's kittens. Dear Lord, he was on fire.
He followed Richard mindlessly, his thoughts too consumed with the vixen in his lap to focus on anything other than her. Fortunately, his cousin adjusted his pace so they did not fall too far behind, and his occasional glances kept Darcy from doing anything entirely inappropriate when Elizabeth's fingers twirled around the hair at his neck and tugged.
They passed a narrow thicket of trees, and Darcy's restraint weakened with every step of the horse rocking Elizabeth against him. Her fingers had moved from his hair to his cravat where she stroked the soft fabric and rubbed her cheek against it until he thought he would burst into flames.
He did not see Elizabeth's bonnet until the horse stopped to nibble at it on the tree limb it dangled from. He leaned over to pluck it away from the tree, tugging the ribbon free, and disappointing the horse.
Elizabeth gasped. "My poor bonnet. It was far nicer than the original, but its superiority did not spare it from a similar fate. Shall we reward our noble steed with an apple for finding it?"
The horse seemed to understand a treat was in store for him and walked with more enthusiasm.
Darcy smiled. He would replace the bonnet as many times as it was required for the joy of seeing Elizabeth receive it. It was not lost on him how she tenderly attempted to smooth over the frayed straw and the creases in the ribbon.
She looked up at him and he rubbed his chin against her forehead where the fine hair had escaped the confines of her pins and braids. "I am not sorry for it. Your hair smells divine." He closed his eyes and inhaled, only opening them again when he felt the sun warming them from the other side of the thicket. They were near the house now.
Would that the house was farther away, and Aunt Catherine was in better health. He could have carried Elizabeth cradled against his chest as she was all day and still miss the feel of her when they had to part.
Wrapping his hands around her waist, he helped her down from the horse without jarring her too badly when her feet touched the ground.
He would have stood with his hands around her waist, ensuring she did not topple over, for much longer had she not reminded him of his duty.
"Your aunt," she whispered, tugging his hand as she turned toward the house where Richard waited for them at the top of the steps.
"I hope you did not suffer too greatly on our return to Rosings, Miss Bennet," Richard teased, winking at Darcy.
Elizabeth grinned devilishly. "I rather liked it and look forward to repeating the activity."
"Lord help me," Darcy mumbled. If he had been free to travel to Longbourn, he would have galloped there on his aunt's fastest mount to ask Mr. Bennet for his permission to marry Elizabeth that same day.
"Lord help us catch the murderer and be free of this mess before the magistrate returns on the morrow. He may not be as reasonable as the constable," added Richard, charging into the house ready for battle.
Chapter 33
Mr. and Mrs. Collins greeted them in Aunt Catherine's bedchamber amongst the hustle and bustle of Mrs. Beeton directing the maids.
Mrs. Collins ran to Elizabeth's side. "Lizzy, I am so glad you have returned with Mr. Darcy. Her ladyship is greatly agitated. Nothing we do calms her."
Mr. Collins joined them, his appalled expression at the disheveled appearance of his cousin clearly distressing him. "My dear cousin Elizabeth, I do hope you did not suffer an accident. Perhaps you would wish to look in a mirror before approaching her ladyship. We do not want your appearance to cause her further distress."
Darcy wanted to growl at Mr. Collins and his self-serving concern. Elizabeth looked perfect.
Mrs. Collins clucked her tongue at her husband and smoothed Elizabeth's hair. "Her ladyship will not mind so long as she is surrounded by family and friends to offer her comfort."
It soon became clear to Darcy that his aunt's greatest source of discomfort was, in fact, Mr. Collins. And yet, he dismissed every attempt by Mrs. Jenkinson, Richard, Darcy, and even Mrs. Beeton to get him to leave.
Mrs. Collins, being of a more practical mind, took advantage of the doctor's arrival to suggest they depart for the parsonage to return at a more convenient time for her ladyship.
Mr. Collins rebutted vehemently. "How could we possibly leave Lady Catherine when it is our duty, nay our great privilege, to bestow upon her the same kindness she has granted us with her patronage? No, my dear Mrs. Collins, we are to be at her ladyship's disposal at all hours of the day and night so we might offer our humble comfort and thus assist in her recovery."
Mrs. Collins replied with a smile pasted on her face. "Would it not be more convenient for Lady Catherine to send for us at her convenience rather than impose on her hospitality?"
Elizabeth agreed with her, but Mr. Collins disregarded their sensibleness.
"Surely it is not an imposition when we are more qualified than anyone else to see to her proper care, although I can understand why she would not wish for so many gentlemen to be present in her bedchamber." He looked at Darcy and Richard as if to suggest they were the imposition, not him.
Mr. Collins' face lit up as an idea occurred to him, an idea with which Darcy would most assuredly disagree.
Clasping his hands together, his face shining with delight, he said, "I have the perfect solution, my dearest Mrs. Collins. You must stay here with her ladyship. There are several advantages to the arrangement. You will have the reassurance of seeing to her ladyship's proper care (which will be a great source of relief to you, I am certain), and you will be able to send for me should her ladyship request my presence. Not that I presume Lady Catherine would honor me by calling me to her side during her time of illness, but I suggest the possibility out of my humble desire to be of service to her ladyship when she has been so kind as to bless me with her benevolence."
Mrs. Collins seemed to be at a loss for words, but it was plain to everyone except her husband that she did not wish to stay on as a nursemaid.
Eliz
abeth said, "Her ladyship has a great number of maids to tend to her, as well as the company of Mrs. Jenkinson to offer her comfort. I, also, will stay until her ladyship wishes for me to leave. There is no need for Mrs. Collins—"
Mr. Collins waved Elizabeth's suggestion away with a flutter of his hand. "Nonsense, Cousin Elizabeth. There is no one better qualified than Mrs. Collins to ease Lady Catherine's discomfort."
Darcy was well-aware Mr. Collins never lost an opportunity to gain favor in his patroness' eyes, but his insertion of his own wife into Aunt Catherine's household was no more than a shocking act of ambitious presumption. Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head.
Darcy watched Mrs. Collins, confident she would present an irrefutably sound reason not to stay while still preserving a thread of her husband's dignity.
"Very well," she said, "Far be it from me to deny our esteemed patroness of the comfort with which I can provide her, but allow me to return to the parsonage to fetch some items for my own use if I am to stay here. Is that agreeable to you, Mr. Darcy?"
Taken aback by her willingness to comply with her husband's unreasonable wish, Darcy answered, "You have always been welcome at Rosings, Mrs. Collins. I will not deprive my aunt of your company now."
Truth be told, he agreed more for Elizabeth's sake than for his aunt's. If Elizabeth planned to stay until the time agreed upon by herself and Aunt Catherine, then she would need a friend. And Darcy would need a more reliable chaperone than Richard if he were to reside under the same roof with the woman who had agreed to become his wife — the woman who proved her superior character in the tender care and thoughtful entertainment of the woman who had only ever treated her with the greatest condescension and haughty disdain. The future Mrs. Darcy.
Lady Catherine was restless all evening, only calming when Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed to stand guard in her room so she might attempt to sleep.
