The Journey

Also by JAN HAHN

AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE JOURNEY

Copyright © 2011 by Jan Hahn

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information: P.O. Box 34, Oysterville WA 98641

ISBN: 978-1-936009-15-2

Graphic design by Ellen Pickels

Front cover: “A Study,” Edmund Blair Leighton, 1895.
Back cover: “The New London Royal Mail,” Charles Hunt Engraving, 1851.

Acknowledgments

Writing a story is a solitary exercise, but transforming it into a book requires assistance. I am deeply indebted to the following people for giving this tale of mine a life of its own.

To my dear family for indulging me with the time to write and loving encouragement to follow my muse;

To Beth Miller and Jennifer Padgett who provided edits, suggestions, and generous support in the preliminary stages of writing;

To Debbie Styne whose sharp eye, keen insight, and editing skills made the story so much better;

To Michele Reed and Ellen Pickels of Meryton Press for Michele’s patient guidance and Ellen’s talented sense of style and form;

To Janis Blackburn and Janet Taylor for their confidence in me, their excitement in the project, and their loyal friendship;

To Patricia West, an extraordinarily generous reader I met online, who was the first person to truly urge me to publish this book;

And to Jane Austen, who created Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet, and all the other fascinating characters in her books. Her genius has delighted countless readers for two hundred years, and I am blessed to be numbered among them.

In memory of my beloved Mr. Darcy

Chapter One

My back ached with a sharp, persistent pain by the time he slowed the horse to a walk. We had galloped hard and fast for more than an hour at least, much faster than I imagined one could ride a horse through woods as thick and tangled as a briar patch.

There was no definite trail to follow, no easy path; rather, we pushed our way through brambles and thickets, sharp branches scratching at my cheeks and neck. I must admit that he attempted to avoid them, pulling me in the opposite direction if he spied the tree limbs before they hit us, but two people on a horse could lean only so far without falling off, and this man had no intention of falling or allowing me to slip from his grasp. No, he had locked his arms around me, one hand secured upon my waist, holding me against his body in the most intimate embrace I had ever known.

I felt the heat of his hands upon me through his black leather gloves. He was dressed entirely in black, from boots to cape to the jaunty hat on his head with a fluffy dark feather stuck in the band. Blonde curls escaped from beneath his hat and provided the only contrast to his dark appearance. He possessed the bluest eyes I had ever seen, a blue I had witnessed in neither man nor woman — almost crystalline — eyes I would have considered striking if encountered in a ballroom or parlour. Staring straight ahead through cut-outs in the black mask covering his face, however, they appeared deadly.

“Make haste,” he said, motioning to the four horsemen behind us. “From here on until we know the cottage is vacant, be silent as a corpse.”

We began to climb a slight hill. I grew even more conscious of my precarious position when he leaned forward with the incline and in doing so thrust his head against mine. We rode almost cheek to cheek, his breath warm against my face.

How had I come to be in such danger? I was amazed at how quickly my life had changed, how one decision altered its entire direction, and how, unknowingly, I embarked upon a journey that was to have such a profound effect upon my future.

* * *

Two hours earlier, Mr. Bingley’s carriage had rocked back and forth in a rhythmic, singsong cadence, monotonous enough to lull a person to sleep. That is, if a person felt at ease with her fellow travellers. Neither Mrs. Hurst nor Miss Bingley had ever put me at ease, and Mr. Darcy was the last man in the world who would inspire tranquillity.

I strove to keep my eyes from the gentleman’s person, a daunting task since he sat directly across from me. Miss Bingley had fluttered about him for the first hour of the trip, remarking upon the weather, the tedium of travel and her gratitude to have his company to brighten the journey. She spoke of various people of society they both knew and denigrated the ladies in the most casual of terms unless they were titled, married, and particularly fond of her. And then she went on and on about how she could not wait to reach Town and leave the boredom of country society behind.

Mrs. Hurst agreed with each of her sister’s comments, adding her own encouragement when given the opportunity, but I noticed that Mr. Darcy said little, responding only when pressed to do so. Conversation was rarely directed at me, and thus I was relieved of making but few remarks.

Yet, even though I was not required to enter into the general conversation, escape into slumber was all but impossible under Mr. Darcy’s continuous, disapproving scrutiny. I did my utmost to avoid meeting his eyes, watching the passing landscape with more than usual interest or turning to observe Mrs. Hurst, sitting beside me, when she was allowed to speak.

I also found it amusing to watch Miss Bingley edge closer and closer to Mr. Darcy on the seat they shared. She could not have chosen a more pleasing position for herself, I thought, unless she could rid the carriage of her sister and me. Alas, we would plague her efforts for the duration of the journey to London.

“I trust your relations in Town are in good health, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said suddenly.

I startled, shocked at his address. “They are, sir, thank you.”

“And so I understand this trip is not one of necessity, but pleasure?”

I nodded, but before I could respond, Caroline jumped in. “Well, from what I have heard, it is perhaps both, is it not, Miss Eliza? Are you not in need of escaping an uncomfortable situation at home?”

“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Miss Bingley. I do not escape anything. I join my aunt and uncle at their invitation.”

“You speak of your mother’s brother who resides in Cheapside, do you not?” Caroline purred.

“Yes, Mr. Edward Gardiner.” My first thought had been to correct her by saying that my relatives lived
near
Cheapside, but I did not think she deserved the compliment of that particular information.

“And pray tell us, Miss Eliza, what is your uncle’s occupation?”

“He is a merchant.”

“Ah, in trade.” Caroline arched her eyebrows with a knowing look at her sister. “I see.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from making a sharp retort, but I was truly surprised when Mr. Darcy said, “Was not your grandfather also in trade in London, Miss Bingley? Perhaps he knew Mr. Gardiner’s father or grandfather.”

Her eyes widened as she beseeched Mrs. Hurst with a desperate look. Her sister quickly answered for her. “That was many, many, many years ago, Mr. Darcy. None of our family has been in trade since then, I can assure you.”

“Yes, well, many of us profit from the endeavours of our ancestors.”

His remarks put an end to the topic, causing a strained silence in the carriage until Caroline returned to the question of why I was making the trip to Town.

“I heard that you wished to leave Longbourn because of a proposal of marriage. My sister and I were both shocked to learn that you refused Mr. Collins’s generous offer.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Hurst joined in. “I would think the gentleman might have made an excellent match for you. Is he not to inherit your father’s estate in the future?”

Feeling condescension dripping about me, I wanted to snap at them, but I steeled myself to answer graciously. “I did not deem his inheritance a sufficient inducement for matrimony.”

“Well,” Miss Bingley said, “for your sake, I hope you do not live to regret it. I sensed a shortage of eligible prospects in Hertfordshire.”

“Aye, might I suggest you look elsewhere for a possible husband, Miss Bingley, for although Hertfordshire contains excellent men, I doubt that any one of them would be a suitable match for you.”

“Me? I was not speaking of myself, Miss Bennet! I most certainly do not seek a husband from anyone residing in the country. When I marry, it shall be to a man of breeding, a man who possesses a certain air, a definite manner of carrying himself, a cosmopolitan at home in London or Vienna, not someone who buries himself in country society.”

“’Tis a pity,” Mr. Darcy said, “for that excludes the eligible gentlemen from Derbyshire.”

Caroline gasped, realizing she had placed her foot squarely in her mouth, and began to stammer and sputter as to what she truly meant, but Mr. Darcy said nothing further. Indeed, the entire conversation ceased, and we rode no little way in complete silence.

He turned to look out the window, and I happened to catch a glimpse of his face, detecting a slight smirk about his mouth. Despite Miss Bingley’s enchantment with him, obviously he was not similarly inclined. I took a deep breath and sighed, marvelling once again that I was in that carriage and making that trip with the last three people alive who wished for my company.

Although I had evaded giving Miss Bingley an answer for the reasons behind my excursion, in truth I
was
making somewhat of an escape to Town in order to avoid my mother’s wrath. Since I had refused Mr. Collins’s proposal, disappointment had rendered her distraught. She had directed her livid anger at me for over two weeks. Even though my father had taken my side in the matter, it did little to change her opinion, and life at Longbourn had become excessively unpleasant.

When Papá had returned from Meryton earlier in the week and called me into his library, I was surprised and yet relieved to hear his news.

“Lizzy, how would you like to visit the Gardiners for a while, at least until they join us for Christmastide?”

“Very much, sir, but must I go alone? May Jane go with me?”

“No, no, your sister is needed here for my sanity if nothing else. I cannot part with both of you when your mother is in such a state, but you shall not go unattended. I have procured a means of travel for you that shall be quite safe. I met with Mr. Bingley at Sir William Lucas’s house this morning, and he informed me that his entire party is returning to Town at the end of the week. When I said that I was thinking of sending you to visit your aunt and uncle, he invited you to make the trip in his carriage with his sisters. Now, what do you think of this fine arrangement?”