A Peculiar Connection (13 page)

He looked back at Mr. Darcy, who dismounted and strode toward the carriage with a determined step. “Come, Elizabeth. Do not delay this good man’s journey.”

“I shall not. I am returning to Longbourn.”

“Sir,” the driver said. “If she don’t want to go with you, perhaps it’s best to let her be. I’ll see she gets to her destination safely.”

Mr. Darcy’s brows knit together into a single, fierce line as he turned upon the driver and informed him what he could do to his coach, his career, and his liberty if he persisted in abducting his cousin.

“Abductin’? I ain’t about nothin’ like that, sir. The lady paid her money.”

“If you do not release her to my care, I shall see you charged with seizure. My cousin is under my protection, and I have not relinquished it to you or anyone else.”

The man yielded under Mr. Darcy’s severity and drew back while my companions looked aghast. I knew no one would take my side against a man of his stature. He held out his hand, but instead of taking it, I shoved my valise at him. I then climbed out of the coach without his assistance, flinging myself away when he reached out to me.

“Do you want us to wait, miss?” the coachman asked.

“I told you she is under my protection.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was rigid and insistent.

“But the mist, sir. I fear the weather’s ’bout to turn nasty.”

“I shall see to her. Be on your way.”

With a final hesitant look in my direction, the driver slammed the passenger door shut and climbed aboard to his seat. Within moments, I watched my only means of escape lumber down the road.

I turned and glared at Mr. Darcy. “I hope you are satisfied.” Seizing my valise, I gripped it close to my chest like a shield and whirled around, taking resolute steps to follow the post.

“Do you propose to walk to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth?”

“You leave me no other choice.”

“I have a horse, or are you so blinded with anger you cannot see it?”

“You know I am no horsewoman, and do not suggest I ride with you because I refuse.”

“Very well. I shall walk and lead the horse while you ride.”

I shook my head and continued on, taking pains to lengthen my stride.

“You are behaving like a child.”

“Am I? Does that entitle you to assert yourself like a father? Never have I been so publicly shamed. I shall not forgive you.”

“Publicly? In front of those common folk?” He snorted his disdain. “And if we are to speak of shame, how do you think I appeared before my servants, much less my cousin and sister, when I was told you had run off in the night?”

I stopped and faced him. “I did not run off in the night. It was morning. Am I not a free woman? Do I not possess control over my own person? Am I not permitted to come and go as I please? Evidently not in your house, sir. I would never have travelled to Pemberley with you if I had known I would be held there against my will!”

“No one is holding you against your will.”

“Come now, Mr. Darcy, any fool can see you have just removed me from the only means I possessed to return home. If that is not holding me against my will, what is?”

“Travelling by post is not the only way you may return to Longbourn. It is an unthinking, dangerous choice. You are well aware that young ladies of breeding do not travel alone. All you had to do was tell me you wished to leave. My carriage would have been at your disposal. If you had considered this indefensible decision carefully, you would see that I carry the point.”

Thunder rumbled nearby, and the mist suddenly turned into fully developed raindrops. I glanced at the sky, lowered my head, and left him standing in the road. I had not walked a few steps before the rain grew even heavier and began to pelt my head and shoulders severely.

“Elizabeth, you cannot walk to the next town. Let me put you on the horse, for we must take cover from this storm.”

“No.” I refused to slow my pace or look back at him. I knew my actions were senseless, but I no longer cared. I only wished to escape his presence.

A flash of lightning bolted across the sky, and thunder bellowed so loudly that I ducked my head. Rain increased without pity, and I felt water trickle down inside my gown. Another lightning strike proved near enough that I cried aloud in fear.

“Come, we must find shelter,” Mr. Darcy commanded. He placed both hands on my waist and steered me across the road toward the woods. “Look, there is a bit of a shed before us.”

I could see nothing for the vehemence of the storm. Water streamed down my face and clouded my vision. Where was he taking me? We began to run until we reached a ditch already filling with water. Before I knew it, Mr. Darcy lifted me up into his arms and jumped the ditch, the horse following close behind. He climbed the slight incline and carried me into what appeared to be the remains of a hut. It had but three walls standing. The roof, however, hung over enough to provide some measure of protection.

“This is not substantial, I admit,” Mr. Darcy said.

Of a sudden, we both seemed aware that he still held me. I was clinging to his neck, and the look that passed between his eyes and mine said more than words. Immediately, he released me to a standing position, and I averted my face. With one hand, I straightened my gown and pelisse while still clutching the valise close to my breast. He removed his hat and shook off the water. Glancing around, he pulled an old bench forward, dusted it off with his hand, and indicated I should sit.

“I shall stand,” I said. “The storm cannot last long.”

“And then what? Shall you persist in this stubborn pattern of yours?”

“I have no other recourse. You have seen to that.”

“You can return to Pemberley with me, change into dry clothing before you become ill, and if you insist, I will take you back to Longbourn first thing on the morrow.”

“No.”

“No? Is that the only reply I am to have? Why must you drive me to distraction with your ill behaviour?”

My ill behaviour?
How the man provoked me! I turned my back on him and walked to the far edge of the shelter, staring out as the wind arose and stirred the trees. We said nothing more for some time, but I heard him begin to pace back and forth like a wild animal longing to be loosed. I thought of our coupling in the dance the night before and how my senses quickened when he touched me. For all his elegance, his upright demeanour, his superior, gentlemanly composure, I knew…I knew there was a primitive, untamed side to Mr. Darcy that he kept hidden from the world.
He will unleash it someday
, I thought. Chills ran up my spine at the idea, and a fire welled up from deep within me.

But not with me.
I would never have more than the glimpse I had witnessed last night. He could never reveal that wild, passionate nature to me. It would be reserved for the woman he loved, if not the one he eventually took in marriage. It could not be me. Our father had seen to that. Suddenly, I hated George Darcy.
Why? Why had life conspired against us in this unthinkable manner?

“Elizabeth, you are trembling.”

I felt his hands on my shoulders as he turned me around to face him. I kept my eyes lowered, and I hoped he thought the tears that spilled down my cheeks were nothing more than the remains of the rain. He took off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. “Come and sit down. Pray, do not weep. The storm is moving past.”

I did as he said while he sat beside me holding my hand. “I want to go home, sir,” I said softly.

“First thing tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “I want to go today.”

“Elizabeth, you cannot go in this condition. Let us return to Pemberley, and I promise I shall take you back in the morning.”

“No. I wish to go today…alone.”

“I cannot allow you to travel alone. You know the journey will require you to stay overnight at roadside inns. It is not safe.”

“Send a maid along with your manservant. That will be sufficient.”

I kept my face turned away from his, but he lifted my chin so that he might see into my eyes, and I trembled again at the tenderness of his touch.

“Why do you insist that I not accompany you?”

Slowly, I raised my eyes to meet his. “Pray, do not ask me.”

His eyes held mine much longer than they should, and then they travelled down to my lips, and I watched him struggle to conquer the yearning that seemed to possess him. He tore his eyes from me, closing them as though he were in pain, and I saw him press his lips together while a great sigh escaped his guarded restraint. When he opened his eyes, he appeared as one haunted. Bowing his head in agreement, he released my hand and rose from the bench.

Within three-quarters of an hour, the storm stilled, and Mr. Darcy’s carriage arrived. Upon departing Pemberley, he had ordered his coachmen to follow, but he had raced ahead of them from Lambton once he learned I had boarded the post. He had even thought to bring my maid, and she hastened to cover my shoulders with a dry shawl once I climbed into the carriage.

“There has been a change in plans,” Mr. Darcy instructed his driver. “Do not return to Pemberley. Take Miss Bennet to her home in Hertfordshire.”

He went on to give his servant sufficient funds to cover expenses for several days of travel and explicit instructions for my care and protection during the trip. When finished, he directed the maid to withdraw from the coach while he bade me farewell. Sitting on the seat across from me, he leaned forward and took my hands in his once again, smiling slightly.

“All is arranged. Stratton is to be trusted as well as the footmen. You may rely upon them with confidence.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you write to me?”

I shook my head.

“To Georgiana?”

“Of course, if she wishes.”

“You know she will.”

I looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Elizabeth, I…”

“Sir, I pray you say nothing more.”

He turned his eyes to the window, and in doing so, he sighed deeply. “Then let us say farewell, and God bless you, Elizabeth.” He raised my hands to his lips, and I caught my breath at the tenderness of his kiss.

“And you, sir,” I murmured.

With that, he bounded from the coach, the maid climbed aboard, and we set off. Although I tried not to look back, I could not keep myself from turning and waving to him from the window. He stood in the road, his hat in his hand, but he did not wave in return.

As long as I live and memory survives, that image endures.

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I resumed life at Longbourn almost as though I had never left. I told my parents Pemberley was a lovely place for a brief visit, but I could not remain longer. Mamá fretted and fumed as I expected, but my father simply patted my shoulder. Neither of them asked why I returned so quickly. Mamá was too busy complaining about my ingratitude, but I oftentimes looked up to see my father gaze upon me with a puzzled expression in his eyes. I did not seek him out to make further explanations, and he was not the type of father who made an effort to look into matters that might require more attention than he wished to give.

Fortunately, I had gained control over my emotions by the time I arrived home. I had wept during much of the first leg of the journey. Upon first observation of my discomfort, my maid asked whether she could be of assistance. When I refused and directed her to let me be, she followed my bidding and allowed me to indulge my grief while she shopped for our necessities at the first town we reached that proved large enough to contain suitable shops. On that first night back at Longbourn, I laid my head upon the pillow on which I had slept most of my life and knew my tears were done. I would no longer cry for what I could never have. I would content myself with the life before me.

As chance would have it, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had returned from their wedding tour only a week before my return. Jane and I clung to each other upon our first visit. Our joyful reunion reminded me how much I missed her and how I longed to confide in my childhood companion and dearest sister. I did not, however. I told no one the true reason I left Pemberley. For that matter, I had never told anyone—not even Jane—that I loved Mr. Darcy. Now that all hope was gone, what reason remained to do so? I could not think of destroying her happiness by letting her know I could never hope for true marital felicity. ’Twas more prudent to keep some sorrows buried.

“And what are your plans now, Jane?” I sat across from her at our dining table upon which Hill, at Mamá’s orders, had placed more dishes of food than we could ever consume.

“Caroline, Louisa, and Mr. Hurst join us next week.”

“But after their arrival, we will stay at Netherfield only a short while,” Mr. Bingley added before attacking a large helping of roast lamb.

“Oh no,” my mother began to whine. “Why, Mr. Bingley, when you have just returned, must you take my daughter from the county again so soon?”

“We shall travel to London for the Season, Mamá,” Jane said.

Her words greatly pleased my mother, and she ceased her complaints, choosing instead to rave about the balls and parties to which they would be invited—the opera, music recitals, plays, and art exhibits that were sure to fill their social calendar.

“Oh, Mr. Bingley, Jane is so beautiful that I am certain she will capture all of London’s attention.”

He readily agreed, grinning widely.

“Now, my dear, you must be diligent in returning calls and planning your first dinner party. Oh, I am all aflutter at the vision of your success. Have you ordered new gowns yet? You must allow me to advise you of the best warehouses in Town, for it will not do to purchase less than the finest materials.”

Jane assured her that all would be well, and I smiled, thinking that much had altered in our lives, and yet, much would never change.

A week or so after the arrival of Mr. Bingley’s sisters, we received an invitation to dinner at Netherfield. It was to be Jane’s first entertainment over which she would preside as mistress of the great house. My mother and sisters were alive with excitement. Kitty changed her gown three times that evening before making a final selection. Mary collected her best music so that she might play for us on Mr. Bingley’s pianoforte. I sighed at the thought of the opinion her performance would elicit from Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst.
Oh well
, I thought,
it is Jane’s home now, and they might as well accept us, for we have no intention of going away
.