The Journey (5 page)

He immediately strode to my side, looking at me intently. “Are you unharmed?”

I had barely answered with a nod, when Morgan interrupted. “Your
wife
is fine, only she refuses to write to your uncle. Says he won’t know her hand. So here.” He moved the paper in front of Mr. Darcy, who sat down beside me. “You write what I say and not one word more.”

“Why do you not write the note yourself?” Mr. Darcy asked. Sneyd snorted with laughter until Morgan silenced him with a glare.

“Because I give the orders!” He slammed his fist on the table once again. “And because it will mean more coming from you. But don’t fancy I can’t read or write. You write my message only. Understand?”

“Yes,” was the only reply he made before taking up the pen and dipping it in the pot of ink.

Once again, Morgan began to dictate the same message he had recited earlier. He named a time and place for deposit of the ransom and added, “It’s essential that you do exactly as this note says, or never again will you see either me, or my wife, or the heir to Pemberley.”

Mr. Darcy had written quickly, but with that last statement, he startled so that he caused a large ink blob on the page. Glancing at me with a look of utter astonishment, he raised his brows in question.

“Do not be alarmed, sir,” I said with haste, “that I have shared news of our expectant child with Mr. Morgan.”

“Very well,” Mr. Darcy mumbled. He recovered, completed the ransom note, and handed it to Morgan, who peered at it closely. At last, he appeared satisfied.

“All right. Take them back to their room, Sneyd.”

As we rose from our chairs, Mr. Darcy asked, “May we have bedding for the night — there is neither mattress nor fireplace in the room — and a candle as well?”

“And some water, I pray you, sir,” I added.

Morgan ordered Sneyd to fetch his blanket, which provoked another round of snivelling and complaining from the man, but he did as he was told. He indicated that I could carry the pitcher of water from the table, but he refused our request for a candle. Soon we found ourselves once again alone behind a locked door, this time in total darkness except for the moon’s faint light glimmering through the window.

“I brought you some bread,” I said, offering Mr. Darcy the hidden slice.

“Thank you.” He began to tear off small pieces. “My thirst is greater than my hunger.”

“Aye,” I agreed.

He handed the pitcher to me, and I drank from it before giving it back so that he could do the same. Suddenly the intimacy of that simple gesture, drinking from the same vessel, unnerved me. How could it be that I was sharing the necessities of life with
that
man, the last man I could imagine?

Unbidden, my eyes turned toward the lone quilt. Who would have thought Mr. Darcy and I would ever spend the night alone in the same room? I began to tremble, grateful for the cover of darkness.

“You can imagine my surprise to discover we are having a child, Miss Bennet. Do you care to enlighten me as to why?”

I felt my face flame, and once again, I was thankful there was little revealing moonlight. “The highwayman doubted that I was your wife, much less that your uncle would care more for me than for his own nephew. An heir was the only reason I could think of at the moment. I had little time to devise an answer.”

“Very clever. And is this our only child?”

“Yes. That is the reason this child is so important. We have attempted to have a babe for years, but to no avail.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Although I could not see his face clearly, I could hear the amusement in his voice. “I do not know, sir, perhaps because we married when I was quite young.”

“Indeed? How young?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen! Am I a robber of cradles?”

“Forgive me, but I was desperate to convince Morgan. Surely, you care little for your reputation in the eyes of these criminals.”

“You are correct, Miss Bennet. I care nothing for their regard other than they believe who I am and contact the earl. Forgive me for the strength of my reaction. I have a sister who is that very age, and I cannot abide the thought of any man preying upon her youth.”

“I have known several girls who married that young.”

“Perhaps in your sphere, but rarely in mine.”

Oh, there we were, back to his unbridled superiority!

“Is that so? I understand that in years past members of the royal family have entered marriage even younger, but then perhaps they, too, do not reside in your sphere.”

“I meant no disparagement, madam, but I have observed that your younger sisters frequent society at a much earlier age than most of my acquaintances.”

I blanched at the remembrance of Lydia and Kitty’s forward behaviour at the Netherfield ball and of the way Mary had embarrassed us all by putting herself in the forefront at the pianoforte. Nevertheless, I bristled at his condescension and shot him a look that would have withered any other young man in my society.

The moonlight provided just enough radiance for me to see his eyes narrow, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I rose quickly, signifying that I did not wish to discuss the matter further. In truth, I had not the energy or strength for any further altercation that night.

Picking up the blanket, I looked around the room, wondering which corner would prove warmest. I knew that the stone floor would not only be hard but cold. If I lay down against the far wall away from the window, perhaps with my coat and the cover, the night would afford me some rest.

Then the thought struck me that I might be in a somewhat vulnerable situation. Only one blanket existed! I certainly did not want Mr. Darcy to think I offered him an invitation by opening it as though I were making up a bed. He was a gentleman and I a gentleman’s daughter, but I knew nothing of his private life — or his morals for that matter. Quickly, I sat back down and placed the quilt upon the table, not bothering to fold it.

He picked it up and held it out to me. “Take the wrap. My coat is much heavier than yours.”

When I did not move, he rose and carried it to the far wall. “’Twill be a hard bed, but this should be the most sheltered spot in which you might sleep.”

“Where will you — ” I could not bring myself to finish the question.

“A chair will do for me. I can rest my head on the table. Besides, I shall probably sleep but little.”

“I should think you exhausted, sir, after that dreadful ride. I know that I am.”

“Then let us say good night, Miss Bennet.”

I spread the quilt on the floor and, lying down, wrapped myself up in it. Since I had nothing for a pillow, I raised my arm and reclined my head upon it. I did not sleep for some time, though. The events of the day tormented my thoughts, and no matter how tired, I could not quell my fear.

Over and over, I relived the nightmare of our abduction. What would we do, and how should we escape? When I did not arrive at the Gardiner’s at the expected time, my uncle would most likely contact my father on the morrow, possibly by express even tonight, and my entire family would be worried for my welfare. I worried for my welfare!

I began to turn back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position. At last I gave up, and rising, I tiptoed across the room to look out the window.

“Are you unwell, Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy’s voice startled me.

“No. Forgive me, I did not mean to awaken you.”

“I was not asleep. Are you having difficulty resting on that hard floor?”

“Very much so.” I heard him rise and soon felt his presence at the window. “A greater hindrance is that I cannot remove the events of this day from my mind.”

“Nor can I,” he replied, “but have faith. I shall do everything possible to get us out of this predicament. We are both intelligent people. In truth, I have been attracted to that part of your character. Together we will survive this.”

Attracted? I felt a slight catch in my chest. That was the closest thing to a compliment Mr. Darcy had ever bestowed upon me. Suddenly I was aware of how closely we stood.

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured. “I shall attempt to dwell on that thought.”

“Shall we try to sleep once more?”

I agreed and returned to my pallet while he made his way back to the table and chairs. I found that I could breathe easier when he was safely across the room, but I still had difficulty sleeping, for I could feel his eyes upon me, and I wondered if it was but an invention of my fanciful imagination.

Chapter Three

His rough hands encircled my waist once more, but this time I faced him. As he placed his cheek next to mine, the stubble on his jaw scratched my skin, and when I pushed away from him, I saw the coldness in his glittering blue eyes.

“Do not resist me,” he commanded, and with one hand, he pulled me toward him. His eyes devoured my lips as I soon imagined his mouth doing the same. “I will have you, my pretty, no matter the consequence.”

Nearer and nearer his mouth approached mine, and I knew that I was helpless, unable to break free. Just as his lips brushed mine, I turned my head with every ounce of effort I had left and began to scream. Over and over, I screamed and screamed and screamed!

“Elizabeth!”

I heard a man crying out my name, and I screamed anew. I felt myself gathered into his arms, as he shook me slightly. At the same time, I heard other voices and the violent sounds of a door thrust open. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see that it was Mr. Darcy who held me while Morgan stood in the doorway. Sneyd followed behind, lifting a candle up high.

“Elizabeth, wake up!”

“What’s going on in here?” Morgan demanded. “What’s all the screeching about?”

Mr. Darcy released me and stood up to face the highwaymen. “Obviously, she suffered a nightmare — hardly unusual under the circumstances.”

“Is that true?” Morgan took the candle and held it close to my face. “Are you unharmed?”

“Yes,” I murmured, “I am well.”

“Look at this, Nate.” Sneyd motioned towards the table. The chair in which Mr. Darcy had slept lay on its side. “He what kicked over this chair be in a mighty hurry.”

Morgan turned his sight from the chair to Mr. Darcy to me, once again holding the candle aloft for closer inspection. “Why do you not sleep with your pretty wife, sir, if she is your wife?”

Mr. Darcy made no reply

“Hmm? What’s wrong? Is your brain too foggy to make up another lie?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Mr. Darcy lifted his chin.

“The game’s finished, Darcy. We heard you kick over the chair when the girl started screaming. She slept alone, didn’t she? I don’t think you two are married at all. I think you’re playing us for fools.”

My heart turned over.
What had I done?

“You, sir, are mistaken.” Mr. Darcy drew himself up even straighter than usual. He was a tall man. With an erect and imposing stature, he appeared to be one few would dare question.

“There is a simple explanation. Of course, she is my wife. She has been for several years, and she now carries my child. Because of her condition, which if you doubt, you may fetch a doctor to confirm, and because of the torturous journey you forced upon her, I allowed her the scant comfort of this poor excuse of a quilt. By any gentlewoman’s standards, it can hardly be deemed large enough for one, much less two people. I assure you it was only for her ease that I elected to spend the night in a chair, and the fact, of course, that I wished to keep watch.”

“Keep watch!” Sneyd sneered. “We’re the ones what keeps watch!”

“Shut your mouth!” Morgan demanded.

Once again, he stared hard at me and then moved the candle toward Mr. Darcy’s face, as though its dim light might reveal whether he spoke the truth. He paced up and down the length of the room several times. I held my breath, wondering what he would do next. He stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

“Lie down with her.”

“What?”

“I said, lie beside your wife!”

Mr. Darcy looked at me and opened his mouth to protest. “We . . . we are hardly in the habit of displaying such intimacy in the company of others.”

Morgan drew his pistol, and stepping even closer, he placed it beneath Mr. Darcy’s chin. “This is the last time I’ll say it. Sleep with the girl!”

Immediately, Mr. Darcy dropped to the floor and sat beside me.

“Now, keep your
wife
quiet. One more peep out of her and she sleeps with me. Do you understand,
Mister
Darcy?”

He nodded. Without another word, as though we had practiced it, we both reclined at the same time, lying side by side under the blanket. Sneyd began to snicker until Morgan silenced him with a curt nod of his head. They departed the room without uttering another word. The only sound to be heard was the slam of the door and click of the lock.

We lay there motionless. In truth, I held my breath. I strained to hear departing footsteps, but it was impossible through the thick slab of a door. After a silence of some moments, I began to breathe easier.