The Journey (6 page)

“Shall you not get up now, Mr. Darcy?” I whispered.

“No.”

No!
What did he mean by that? In all my life I had never lain beside a man, and I found it most unsettling. Certainly, I was grateful that it was Mr. Darcy beside me and not Morgan, but I could not sleep beside a man, even if he was a gentleman!

“Why ever not, sir?”

“For two reasons — our captors may return at any moment to see that we obeyed their commands, and because I do not intend to have your outcries summon them again.”

“I did not cry out on purpose. One can hardly be blamed for one’s dreams.”

“I do not blame you, Miss Bennet. I simply state the facts. You are in a position to suffer a recurrence, and I shall not hazard Morgan making good on his threat. If I remain here beside you, I can awaken you before you resort to the earth-shattering noise you uttered before.”

“Mr. Darcy, I protest. I shall not spend the night under the same quilt with you.” I sat up, intending to rise. Immediately, I felt his hands upon my shoulders.

“Lie down!” With one movement, he pulled me down beside him. This time he kept one arm under my neck so that I lay on his shoulder with his other arm across my waist.

“Mr. Darcy!” I cried with force and volume.

“S-h-h! Have no fear that I am attempting to take advantage of you or the situation in which we find ourselves. I do this for your safekeeping, certainly not for any disreputable reason you may imagine. Believe me, I wish to be as free of this position as you do.”

Now, the man not only held me against my will but also insulted me!

“Let me go,” I said evenly.

“Will you remain beside me if I do?”

“Yes,” I spat out, “but only because of necessity.”

“What other reason could there be?”

He removed his arm from behind my neck. I attempted to move over slightly, but when I did, he followed me. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Could we please refrain from conversing any further?”

“As you wish. Good night.”

I turned on my side away from him, scooting as far away as I could, which was not far, given the scant dimensions of that quilt. Still extremely conscious of his presence, I could smell the scent of his skin, hear the gentle hum of his breathing, and feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I knew with certainty that I would never go back to sleep.

How had I ever come to be in such a dilemma? And if we did survive, as Mr. Darcy put it, what would happen to my reputation? When it became known that I had shared not only a room with this man, but slept beside him, how could I ever again hold up my head? Would anyone believe it was innocently done? I could imagine the gossip, how tarnished my good name would be, and what it would do to my family. How could Jane or any of my sisters ever hope to obtain marriage to honourable men after this? My entire family would partake of my shame.

Repeatedly, I wrestled with my worries, and when they began to diminish, instead of succumbing to sleep, my poor brain returned to the danger in which Mr. Darcy and I found ourselves. It did little good to worry about my name when my life was in jeopardy.

By morning light, I had slept less than two hours. I had remained in the same position the entire night, fearful that I might turn over and unknowingly touch Mr. Darcy. Thus, I was stiff and sore when I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I intended to move quietly in order not to awaken him, but when I turned, I was shocked to see him sitting at the table, watching me.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

For some reason, my hand immediately flew to my hair. My curls were all in disarray, and I was acutely conscious of how wrinkled my gown appeared. I pulled my pelisse closer, feeling exposed.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, as I walked across the room to the small storeroom that served as a poor excuse for a water closet. I doubt that I had ever been as embarrassed in my life at having to share such a necessity.

Behind the closed door, I took my time, using the advantage to smooth my skirt by hand as much as possible. Oh, how I longed for the simple pleasure of soap and water with which to wash! Water alone would have been welcomed, but we had drunk all that was given to us the night before.

I raked my fingers through my hair, discovered the hairpins that were still intact, and attempted to pin up as much as possible. I did not need a mirror’s reflection to tell me that my entire appearance remained unkempt. Well, naturally Mr. Darcy would not look perfect, either, I mused.

Sure enough, when I returned, I observed that his breeches appeared creased with wrinkles, and his redingote was less than impeccable. A razor and comb would have benefited him as well, but I had to admit, he probably looked much better than I did.

In truth, the dark shadow on his face and tangle of curls falling across his forehead did little to disparage his good looks. If only he had a pleasing manner, he would be a most attractive man. But then I remembered how horridly he had treated Mr. Wickham, and I knew that no matter how fine his visage, I could never be attracted to Mr. Darcy.

As I advanced into the room, he rose and walked to the window without acknowledging my return, for which I was grateful. If he were only half as bothered by this forced intimacy as I was, he would wish to afford me some semblance of privacy.

I sat down at the table and peered into the empty water pitcher, hoping it had somehow been magically refilled. We remained in silence for no little time, and I wondered what scene outside provoked his interest. As he did not remark upon it, apparently, there was nothing there. I assumed he was simply avoiding my presence. At last he turned and walked back to the table.

“Were you able to sleep?”

I shook my head. “Very little.”

“So I suspected.”

“I apologize if I kept you awake.”

“You did not. My own thoughts were impetus enough.”

I glanced at him then, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. “Do you wish to share them?” I doubted that he had entertained the same fears of the future that I did.

“I thought of ways we might escape our captors, and if we do, in what direction we should strike out.”

“Escape? Do you still entertain the thought? How?”

“We must be on our guard, Miss Bennet, and take advantage of whatever opportunity arises.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he could answer, we heard the key turn in the lock. Sneyd and the woman called Gert entered. She carried a tray containing bowls of gruel, two cups of strongly brewed tea, glasses, and another small pitcher of water. Sneyd remained at the door, while Gert slammed the tray down on the table, sloshing some of the precious tea out of the cups.

She then proceeded to the storeroom and returned with the embarrassing chamber pot. I turned away, unable to face Mr. Darcy, while Sneyd began to snicker. Mr. Darcy, however, acted as though it were the most natural action in the world. Of course, he was accustomed to servants carrying and fetching for him. For that matter, I lived in a house containing servants, although I assumed not anywhere near the vast number he employed. Still, I could not help but feel uneasy. This should be a deed carried out in the privacy of one’s bedchamber, not in front of a snickering highwayman or in the presence of the most arrogant man whom I had ever encountered.

I suddenly remembered that I was to act as though I was married to that arrogant man, and so I raised my head and gave Sneyd the coldest of stares. “I require water and towels with which to wash. Will you see to it?”

“Oh, you
require
, do you, Missus?” He ran his eyes up and down my body, lingering about my bosom. “Well, we’ll see ’bout that.”

“See that you do it immediately!” Mr. Darcy barked.

“I’ll do it when and if Morgan says so, and not because the likes of you orders me to!” Sneyd drew his gun and waved it in our direction.

I saw Mr. Darcy straighten his spine and the angry expression about his eyes. Before there could be any further altercation, I spoke in a much more placating voice. “Tell Mr. Morgan that I would be grateful.”

With an answering scowl, he departed the room, and Mr. Darcy and I sat down to break our fast. Without sugar or milk, the tea was only tolerable, but we both were thirsty and I, at least, relished it. The gruel was another matter. Our hunger prevailed, however, and we both ate the distasteful dish. I had just finished the last spoonful when the door opened again. Gert returned with the emptied utensil for the water closet. She then literally gathered the dishes out from under our noses, placing them on the tray with a harsh clatter. It was obvious that she resented having to serve us. I attempted to soften her attitude by thanking her, but a sullen glare was all I received for my effort.

My request for bathing materials was never acknowledged, and eventually, the day grew long with such enforced imprisonment. In time, Mr. Darcy and I tired of straining to hear footsteps or voices. He still crossed the room to the window at the faintest sound from without, but after no attention from our captors other than a noon meal of the previous evening’s leftover, greasy broth, we soon grew less anxious and settled into the monotony of existing in a room without diversion. Devoid of books, newspapers, callers, even the interruption of servants, and lacking the freedom to come and go as we pleased, we were forced to rely upon each other for company.

Once more, we discussed the possibilities of escape. I was not clever enough to think of any, but Mr. Darcy envisioned several ideas. He reassured me repeatedly that his uncle and his cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, would move heaven and earth to rescue us once they learned of our whereabouts.

“My cousin possesses the resources of his regiment, so you see there is little to fear. If we do not escape, we shall be found.”

When at last we had exhausted that subject, there remained only the topics of polite conversation. Since Mr. Darcy and I had never done well with each other in that realm, I doubted we could discover a theme on which we both agreed enough to converse. I was mistaken, however.

He surprised me by asking my opinion on several concerns that were currently of interest throughout the country. Not only had my father introduced me to the London newspapers at an early age, but also he had taught me how to weigh the facts and arrive at my own conclusions. I think I surprised Mr. Darcy by competently rendering my views. He appeared pleasantly diverted by the fact that I knew of what I spoke.

“Miss Bennet, you obviously are an extensive reader, no matter your demurring remarks upon the matter when teased by Miss Bingley at Netherfield.”

“I would not employ the term extensive, sir, but if the subject holds my interest, I do my best to explore it.”

“And what, besides the events we have just discussed, holds your interest?”

“Oh, I would say an assortment of things — I enjoy certain novels, many of the current poets, and lately, I have been much taken with a book by James Sowerby.”

“Sowerby? So you consider yourself a student of nature?”

“Hardly, but I do love learning the names of trees, flowers, wild shrubs, and herbs. I find it fascinating to discover various uses for these old plants I have known all my life.”

“My sister, Georgiana, enjoys her stillroom and whiles away many afternoons drying flowers and concocting aromatic mixtures. You will have more than music to discuss with her once you meet.”

Once we meet? Unsure of how to respond, I fumbled about for another subject. “And do you have other siblings, sir?”

He shook his head. “No, I am not as blessed as you are with all of your sisters.”

That caused me to smile slightly, for we were both well aware of his disdain for certain of my sisters. “At times I feel my blessings are somewhat excessive. My home overflows with them.”

“And so you would not want always to live near Longbourn?”

Had I spoken of leaving Longbourn?

“Well, I have always wished to travel. I have seen little of the world, and yes, I long to visit new places. Tell me about your part of England.”

“Ah, Derbyshire. You will find that I am somewhat prejudiced, as I consider it the ideal place to live.”

“It is in the north country, is it not?”

He nodded. “Yes, it is filled with mountain peaks and rounded hills, forests, rivers, and the greenest of meadows to create what I consider perfection. You must see it for yourself. I cannot do justice to its beauty with words.”

“Perchance I shall. My aunt and uncle have invited me to tour the lakes with them this summer.”

“Your aunt and uncle?”

“The Gardiners from Gracechurch Street — near Cheapside.”

He frowned and looked away.

Our conversation lagged then, and I knew the reason why. Mr. Darcy did not care to be reminded of my unfortunate connections — that my uncle was in trade — even though I thought him one of the finest men in our family.

I rose from the table and took a turn about the small room. How I longed to go outside if only for a moment. I now understood how caged animals must fret at their captivity. I had just made the length of the room and turned back to retrace my steps, when he joined me.