An Impromptu Bridenapping ~ Section I

By Elaine J.

Section I, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted Sunday, 7 November 2004

Elizabeth stood before the alter, barely able to keep from retching all over the minister. The right side of her body, the side closest to the odious Mr. Collins, was numb and icily tingly all at the same time. If his close proximity did this to her, what would she do tonight?! Her only escape was upon the minister's lips, though she took no hope from it. What possible objections could anyone have to her marrying Mr. Collins? Besides the fact that she herself would rather jump in front of an out of control carriage than have him touch her. But her parents had forced her into this marriage. Elizabeth hadn't talked to her father since the argument they had had in his library. She had flown from the room with every intention of running away. But Mr. Bennet knew his daughter too well, and when Elizabeth had looked out her window to throw down the bag she had hastily packed, she found a stable boy standing guard. Opening the door to her room also displayed another impromptu prison guard. She was trapped. And so she had stayed until this very moment, when a church full of observers left her no option but to remain just where she was.

“I object!” roared a deep strong voice from the back of the room. Elizabeth mused that she must be imagining things. But when she heard the rapid fall of footsteps down the church isle, and realized that others had heard the exclamation also, she slowly turned around to face the owner of those fast and heavy footsteps.

Her jaw dropped to the floor. Before the minister could even inquire whom made this objection and why, the objector stated his cause.

“I love this woman, and will not allow her to marry such a toad as Mr. Collins,” exclaimed a fiery Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. For the life of him, Darcy could not figure out where he had got the nerve to say such an ungentlemanly thing, but then when he saw the oily groom lay an outstretched arm on his bride, Darcy remembered. He had known her for such a short period of time, and knew he was going against all the propriety and social decorum he had always held dear, but he would not stand by and let his lovely Elizabeth become the property of that… that toady to his aunt! Nothing would stop him from his plan of action. Not even the bride.

Elizabeth looked on in helpless shock as she felt the cold, damp touch of her future husband ripped from her arm, and was dragged down the isle toward the large heavy church doors. Her new captor drew her forth from her prison and the mockingly bright sunlight blinded her. Darcy threw her up onto a rather large and fierce looking horse, mounted the beast himself, then fled with amazing speed from the scene of the kidnapping. He spoke not a word. He thought not of speaking. There would be time enough for that when he knew they were safe from followers and rescue parties; there would be time enough in Scotland.

Elizabeth did not desire to speak at the moment either. She wasn't quite sure that she would find her powers of speech in tact. She was sure they had been thoroughly broken by the shock of Mr. “I've something shoved up my arse” Darcy whisking her away from the most awful day of her life. Mr. Darcy!! And something else was nagging at her. It was something he had said before grabbing her away from Mr. Collins. She had been so entirely shocked at see his dark eyes aglow with anger and determination and… something else, that she had paid attention to nothing else. She knew that if she pushed it, she would never remember, so she let her mind fall to other things. It was too much to absorb at once, so she dismissed the very important fact that she was riding a horse, hanging onto Mr. Darcy for dear life, and concentrated on the thought that she was riding a horse. She had never before been one to ride. She distrusted the beasts after she had been thrown from one as a little girl. But she felt no fear now. It was peculiar, she was enjoying the wind pushing her curls from her tingling face, enjoying the steady rhythm of the horse's movement, enjoying the rolling green country side. She believed that with a little experience, she could learn to love riding.

Love. With a jolt, she remembered exactly what it was that Darcy had said while storming toward her down the church isle: “I love this woman.” And there had been utter honesty and conviction in his words. She knew, for her eyes had been locked with his the moment she had turned around. Love.

What was she to do?! She hated this man. He was insufferable, prideful, haughty, and disdainful. She could go on for hours in such a manner, but with only the fourth negative description of her kidnapper, she found herself remembering the way he had said those words, the way his hand, warm and electric, had been such a relief upon replacing Collins' hand on her arm, the way his eyes had held her own. And, she caught herself thinking, that he is very nice looking. Much more so than Mr. Collins. Very nice feeling also. She blushed at the thought, and the succeeding one in which she postulated that he felt much better than Collins would. Her head was a messy confusion. He was no gentleman. Look at what he had done to poor Wickham.

But those eyes. She could not get over them. She had never truly tried to understand Mr. Darcy before, always jumping to her own conclusions based on nothing but what she saw with her own eyes. And she knew of several clichéd sayings that reprimanded those who judged by outward appearance. And clichés only became clichés because they were so true. She sighed. When he had locked his eyes with her own on that long stomp down the church isle, it was as if he had opened the door of his soul to her. And she had found it blazing. It was not blackened by misdeeds and evil. She could not make sense of the man she saw in him in that instant and the man that Wickham claimed him to be. Oh how she wished she had an instant's mirror into Wickham's soul to see what good or evil laid claim there. But all she had was Wickham's word, and Darcy's astonishing revelations.

Where was he taking her? Should she go with him? Should she make him stop immediately? She knew that if she stayed on this horse she would be forced into marrying him. Was that his plan? But surely not! He hated her! But he had said he loved her! She was too confused to think anymore, and resting her head backward against Darcy's strong chest, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

They were not yet in Scotland, but they had made record time and would be safe enough in the small yet respectable inn he knew of in this small seaside village. Pulling the horse to a stop, he gazed down for the first time at the pilfered prize he carried possessively in his arms. Her head was leaning against his chest, a sensation he appreciated greatly, and she was asleep. How any human could fall asleep after an exciting fiasco such as that was completely beyond his understanding, and vexed him slightly. She should be as stirred and passionate as he. Shouldn't she? Looking at her, the thought that she might not return his affections entered his head for the first time. No, thought he, how could she not love me? I love her. I saved her from having to marry that… that man. He shook his head ruefully, remembering what he had called Collins to the audience of assembled wedding guests. Had she such a hold on him that seeing another man touch her made him exclaim things aloud that he could not now bring himself to utter in his own thoughts? The idea almost chilled him, until he looked at the lovely girl nestled between his arms. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “Wake up.” And she did. And as her eyelids fluttered open, her fine dark eyes grew wide in amazement.

“I… You… I thought it was a dream.” Then her face clouded over and sitting up straight, she clumsily dismounted the horse by herself, falling straight onto her bottom. Darcy, she was loath to see, leaped from the horse with the greatest of grace and pulled her to her feet before she had a chance to even mutter an oath.

“Are you alright Elizabeth,” he asked with uncertainty in his eyes. She was alright, but with his eyes upon her like that, she remained as confused as ever before. His soul was reaching out to her from those dark caring orbs and it totally disarmed her. Here she had been all prepared to hate the man who had absconded with her on her wedding day, and now she was not quite so sure how to regard him.

She nodded vaguely that she was well, then, finding her voice confidently spoke. “We must talk Mr. Darcy. Before we, or you, or I, go one step further, we must talk of what has happened.”

Nodding his assent to her truthful statement, he took her hand and led her toward the inn. A nearby stable hand took the horse, and Darcy slipped him a few coins. Before they entered the establishment, Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, and leaning down low, whispered in her ear. “I fear the only way to avoid scandal is to procure a room under false names, as husband and wife. I will, of course,” he added, remembering that even though he was now a kidnapper, he was first and foremost a gentleman, “sleep on the floor, and give you all the privacy you require my lady.” She stared at him. Pretend to be his wife? She couldn't! But then, she was supposed to be married. It could not hurt she told herself, realizing in some part of her that she had shoved down deep, that she had not a clue what she was getting herself into, and that whatever it was, it certainly was not proper. She nodded and took his arm.

They procured the largest and most accommodating room. It was actually a set of rooms that included a drawing room as well as a bedroom. The drawing room was furnished with a small couch and a large chair, as well as a solid yet scratched and worn table which was being prepared for dinner. Both Darcy and Elizabeth remained quite as the servants brought a warm washbasin, clean washcloths, and food enough for five quite hungry people. They sat at the table and ate rather sparingly for two who had undergone such a strange and stressful day. “You do not eat Miss. Bennet,” stated Darcy awkwardly. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes,” answered Elizabeth truthfully. “Something is the matter. I believe there are a few things which need to be discussed.” Darcy's face grew grim and she could sense that he was quite uncomfortable. “Do you mind, Mr. Darcy, explaining to me why you thought it necessary to rip me from my wedding like that?”

“Did you wish to marry Mr. Collins?”

“No…” she faltered, “but that is not the point. Answer my question.”

“Did not my objection this morning answer enough?” Darcy felt severely uncomfortable.

“Mr. Darcy, I am not at all sure that I heard you correctly this morning. I think I heard you say that you love me. But that is impossible!”

“Impossible! Impossible! Why should it be impossible that a good man fall in love with a good woman?! Impossible? Just yesterday I thought it impossible that I should ever break any of society's rigid standards and orders and here I am! A kidnapper and eloper. Nothing is impossible my dear Elizabeth. Least of all my love for you.”

“Elopement?” Elizabeth gulped the word down. It was impossible that this man should wish to marry her! (There was that word again.) She had escaped from one marriage directly into another. She had traded one hated bridegroom for one despised one.

Oh but those eyes. Why did they make her question her own judgments so? She was determined to find out the answers for once. She would confront him about Wickham. She did not yet know if she believed him to be innocent of his appointed crimes, but she did believe that he was an honest person. And if he were guilty, would rightly confess. And with this conviction, she started her questioning.

“You speak of elopement. Marriage. But sir, I have serious doubts about your character, and while even with these doubts you are a hundred times better than Mr. Collins, I refuse to marry a man I am unsure of.”

Unsure of him?! Unsure of what?! Darcy was startled by these confessions and could do naught but listen as she spoke of Wickham and all his accusations, his twisted versions of the truth, and heard in Elizabeth's voice a condemnation of himself. Could he have acted too hastily?

“So Mr. Darcy, I await your side of the tale. And while I doubt your innocence in the matter… for some reason… I trust that you are a truthful man.” She blushed at this, knowing that she had come to this knowledge through perusing his soul as she saw it from his eyes. She felt almost as if she had somehow trespassed. But another voice told her that he had given her the exclusive privilege of this private viewing and that she had only seen what he wanted her to see. “I trust that you will tell me the truth. And…” she added as an afterthought, with a hint of pleading in her voice, “please, do not lie to me.”

He wouldn't lie to her, he couldn't! For he feared that she would see right through him and that she would walk from this room and into oblivion. He told her about his sister's childish infatuation with his father's steward's son. He told her of Wickham's nefarious plot to gain the Darcy fortune and the innocent hand of Darcy's naïve sister. And the whole time he looked at her with those eyes. And sighing, she knew he spoke the truth. “I am sorry for having doubted you Mr. Darcy. But I still cannot marry you.”

Why the hell not! Yelled Mr. Darcy in his mind as his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed in distaste. He would not yell at her. But wait, he had not yet formally proposed! Saving the woman one loves from a wedding to an odious man is quite a chivalrous thing to do, but it does not entitle the kidnapper to an assumed acceptance of a proposal never proffered. Darcy's fierce gaze unknit and a softer one assumed it's place. “I am sorry Elizabeth, to be so unmindful. I have not yet proposed.”

But before he could do so, she interrupted, shaking her head. “No, no Mr. Darcy, you do not understand. I do not wish you to propose because I would not accept.” she did not wait for the shocked reply that was already rushing forth from his lips. “You have given me no hint of your affection. I suffered the greatest shock of my life today from your exclamation of love. I truly had no idea! If it is your manner to court a woman by insulting her and glaring fiercely at her all the time in disapproval, then I do not wish such a courtship!” There was an awkward silence. Elizabeth searched for her next words and Darcy began to think back over the weeks he had been in Hertfordshire. Insulted her? When? Oh… the first ball. He could barely remember that, was it possible that she had overheard him? Such a stinging insult would not soon leave the memory of any maid. He pushed back an embarrassed blush and tried to remember exactly what had prompted him to say such a thing. Hadn't he always thought of Elizabeth as the loveliest of creatures? Yes, he had, but in the beginning it had vexed him that she affected him so. He had been vexed at her for pulling some invisible and heretofore unknown strings of his heart. Now he did blush. He was truly an imbecile. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “ I am deeply sorry… you can not know. I… I am a complete dunce. I cannot hope that you might forgive me for saying such stupid things. But you must believe at I did not for one moment mean them.”

Elizabeth had not been prepared for a statement such as that from the almighty Darcy. He was looking down at the cuff of his jacket upon the table, refusing to meet her gaze. “Look at me. Please.” He did. He could deny her nothing after realizing how much of a cad he had actually been, and without even knowing it! She saw pain there, and truth, and that ever-present annoyance to Elizabeth: love. He was making it awfully hard to hate him! She sighed. “I believe you. Yet I still cannot marry you.”

“Why?” Darcy's question was forceful, his eyes stern and steely.

“I…I do not think I can hate you Mr. Darcy. Especially after saving me from a horrible marriage. You have helped me to attain what has been my sole desire for the past week after my father told me of my fate! You have helped me to escape! No, I do not hate you any longer. I believe you, and I trust you. And I have been wrong about you. And I know I should not so readily trust in you. But somehow, this faith in you seems all the more right since I have disliked and fought with you for so long. And who can hate anyone who loves them? But… Mr. Darcy… I do not fully know you. I do not love you. I've just escaped from a loveless marriage, I will not willingly go into another.”

“I understand.” And he did. He understood perfectly. But just because she did not love him now, did not mean that she would not in the future. If he had so changed her attitude toward him in one day, surely he could gain her heart quickly too! He had thrown rules and restrictions out the window with those fateful words: “I object!” Propriety seemed no longer an issue. If escape was her desire, he would help her in any way he could. But escape from him she would not. He had kidnapped her after all. She was his stolen treasure to keep. He was no longer Darcy the proper gentleman. No, he had withered under the fine gaze of a certain lady, and in his stead another had surfaced. Fitzwilliam the Dread Pirate Darcy smiled cunningly at the lady across from him, and took a sip of his soup.

Elizabeth lay in bed that night thinking of what a beautiful smile a certain gentleman possessed. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing with soft lips and straight white teeth, but there was something more to it. Something she had never seen in it before. But then again, she had never seen him smile before tonight. There was deviltry in it, a challenging smirk and a teasing gleam that appealed to her. She decided, as she fell into dreams, that she would try to provoke that smile as much as possible. It suited the usually austere gentleman, and she grinned in anticipation of the next day.

Darcy lay awake making plans. He had spoken with Elizabeth of Scotland. It was where he had planned on going anyway, not that he had had any plan to begin with, except for some vague outline of a plot. She had agreed. She could not, would not, go back to her parents now. Let them think she had eloped with another man, she had told him. They deserved it. Darcy had winced at her words. He knew that Elizabeth loved her father, and hated that she should be now so separated from him, physically and emotionally. It was why he would not force her to marry him. Elizabeth obviously did not take very well to being forced into anything she did not like. If she felt pressured by him, she would only run. And he could not have this. So he had requested to accompany her. They could travel as man and wife, deterring all nosy inquiries, and keeping Elizabeth safe from the dangers that would accompany a woman traveling alone. Elizabeth had accepted his proposals only after considering the sea traveling. She had never traveled by sea before, and was clearly anxious about it, though she bravely smiled and claimed it to be an adventure.

Once in Scotland, she would find some governess position. This was where Darcy's plans changed. She would not be finding such a position. Rather, he hoped that by the time she came to this point, he would have won her affections and her hand in marriage. Darcy owned a small but quaint cottage on the Scottish moors. It was isolated and without servants of any kind. It was where he went to escape the responsibilities that had plagued him since young adulthood with the advent of his parent's deaths. He could not wait for his return to it, with Elizabeth as his wife.

Chapter Two

Posted on Thursday, 11 November 2004

In her best Darcy manner, Elizabeth glared fiercely at the ship she was about to board. The sky above it was steely and gray and the ocean it swayed on was a perfect match to the ominous sky. Mr. Darcy was striding ahead with their bags in hand, as if the boat weren't about to sink underneath him. He handed their luggage off to one of the crewmen and just as purposely, strode back to Elizabeth's side.

He mentally congratulated himself on a job well done. Elizabeth looked stunning in the fine dark green dress he had procured for her today. They had realized upon awakening that the only clothes they had were the ones on their backs. And hers just happened to be, quite obviously, a wedding gown. He had insisted on her staying put while he shopped, convincing her that a woman buying clothes in a wedding gown might cause a stir. And, she realized, it might give her a little more time to sleep. She had had an exhausting day and night and her sleep had not been sound. So though she was rather doubtful that Mr. Darcy would be able to find the right fit for her, she let him have his way, and crawled once again into her bed.

She was awakened an hour later when she heard Mr. Darcy directing a servant to place his packages on the table, and was out of bed, and straightening her appearance by the time he lightly tapped on her door. “Miss Bennet, may I come in?” She bade him enter and gasped at the lovely purchases he held in his arms. There were three dresses in all. All of them colors she had never before been bold enough to wear. One was a rich red, embroidered with silken threads of cream. Another pure white with a pretty blue pattern, and the last was absolutely wonderful. It was a rich green silk that parted slightly at the empire waist to display a graceful fall of light cream of the same material. The sleeves were fitted and trimmed in the same cream material.

“Mr. Darcy,” she had objected, “I can not accept such finery. I am after all to be a governess! Who will believe I am such in any of the dresses you have bought!” Darcy was not to be so shaken from his purpose.

“Do you not like the gowns? I thought they would look lovely on you. And besides, you are not yet a governess. Until we reach Scotland, you travel as my wife, and subsequently, must, by all appearances, be so. You must realize that any wife of mine would be finely dressed.”

Elizabeth did realize this, and was actually quite happy with her kidnapper and now accomplice's logic. For she did sorely want to feel the softness of at least one of the gowns against her skin. Particularly the green one.

And so they came to be standing before the ship that would sail Elizabeth to her freedom, and Darcy to his impending happiness.

Together they climbed the plank that led to the deck of the ship. The captain was there to greet them. “Has everything been arranged as pertaining my orders?” asked Darcy.

“Yes sir,” answered the captain, “the cabin is all ready. Though, it's never been used for upscale travelers such as yourselves.”

“We'll make do.”

“Would you like to inspect them before we sail off?”

“That won't be necessary. I'm sure you've taken care of everything.” Darcy's words had been formal, noticed Elizabeth, but his attitude, his mannerisms, were not at all. There was warmth in his voice, and a smile on his face that had just not been there in Hertfordshire. This puzzled her. These people on this ship were surely lower socially than her family and neighbors, but Darcy treated them better; he afforded them more respect. She frowned with her thoughts and, absentmindedly, let Darcy lead her to the front railing of the small ship. She mused over these thoughts as the ship pulled anchor and left the port, as the sea winds rose and the choppy waves began to throw the ship gently and slightly.

I know my mother is overly silly. And so are most of my sisters. But not everyone in the country deserves to be treated with the disdain that Mr. Darcy so clearly treated them with! He is high handed and offensive with some, then respectful and outright friendly to others! Elizabeth frowned out over the ocean as the pit of her stomach began to flip over and over with each new wave the ship crashed over. She had never been on the sea before, and was beginning to think she would not like it.

“Miss Bennet,” spoke Darcy, noticing the frown on her face. And… surely her face should not be coming close to the same green shade as her gown! “Elizabeth! Are you ill?” Darcy mentally congratulated himself on such a spectacular question. Of course she was ill!

“I'm afraid I don't feel so well sir.” She grimaced up at him and without a word he took her below deck to the sleeping quarters. As he was about to usher Elizabeth into the small dark room, a voice from above urgently cried his name.

“Go in and lie down,” he ordered her. “I shall see why I am needed and return to you with all haste.”

Elizabeth spoke sparingly through her sickness. “Don't bother yourself sir. I shall just lie down. I'll be well soon.” And entering the room, she shut the door in his face. Darcy faced the shut metal door for no less than ten shocked and befuddled seconds until his name once again ripped through the air. Sharply, he turned on his well polished heal, and stomped gracefully up the stairs.

A disaster had happened up on deck. One of the masts had come loose and punched a nasty hole right through one of the sails. Darcy had spent hours above board helping the crew to fix the disaster. By the time the problem had been fixed, the sun had set and he was too exhausted to think of food.

Elizabeth. Had she awoken hungry? He doubted that she had. And if anything had appealed to her, it probably wouldn't have stayed with her. He let a half smile hint at the corners of his laugh and lightly chuckled as he opened the door to their room. The light was on, and Elizabeth was curled up sweetly, asleep, between the covers of the only bed in the room.

He could not have booked two rooms. They were supposed to be married. Yet he had specifically made sure that the single room would contain two beds. Bunk beds the first mate had told him. There were no bunk beds in this room. Possibly they were in the wrong room. But he knew ships like this only kept one room available to passengers. This was the only room. It looked like he would be sleeping on the floor. Without pillows or blankets of any sort. He eyed the hard corner of the stark and cold room wearily before resigning himself to his fate.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth had awoken. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and yawned in a way that made Darcy melt. “What time is it?”

“Sometime after sunset Miss. Bennet. Do you feel better?” He could tell she didn't. Her face still resembled a lighter, ugly shade of her dress.

“Truthfully, no. But I will prevail,” said Elizabeth as she swallowed deeply and closed her eyes. If Darcy had not suffered from seasickness himself as a child, he might have been fearful for her well being. But he knew she was in no danger. And rather, her predicament almost brought laughter to his lips. But he could not be that insensitive to his Elizabeth. Indeed, that was no way to woo her. Not that now was the time. Sitting down on the cold floor of the corner, her eyed Elizabeth.

“Sleep is the only remedy I'm afraid. And I'm exhausted.” And with that, he closed his eyes.

Elizabeth stared at him in confusion. His long legs stretched out in front of him, his shoulders backed against the wall, and his head leaned over to his right shoulder. His hair was now a mess of damp curls that hung limply and handsomely about his forehead and neck, and his face was red from the ocean wind. Only now did she grow curious as to what had kept him occupied while she lay agonizing in this room. She remembered that he had ran off at the call of his name. “Mr. Darcy…” she enquired, to which he opened his eyes.

“Hm?”

“What was so urgent above deck? You look worn ragged! Have you been fighting Ahab's elusive white whale? And…” for the first time, she noticed the shortage of beds. “You're sleeping on the floor!”

He gave her a small tired smile. “Quite perceptive of you. No, Ahab's obsession could never move me, there were problems with the masts and sails. All hands were needed.”

“So, you helped fix the boat?” This did not fit in with her idea of Darcy at all!

“Yes. I did. And I think I deserve some sleep now.” He gave her another smile. “Goodnight Elizabeth.”

“But why didn't you ask for two beds?”

“I did,” he spoke with closed eyes. “But they obviously misunderstood me.”

“But you can't sleep on the floor! Especially not after all your hard work.”

He opened his eyes and gave her a full-fledged soul melting smile. “There is one bed my lady. And you must have it.” Darcy knew a pirate would never be this gentlemanly, but he had to draw a line somewhere.

Elizabeth did not protest. As Darcy closed his eyes once more, so did she. She lay down, and would have fell into a comfortable stupor had the man in such close proximity not been so utterly uncomfortable. “Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes Miss. Bennet?”

“Um… it is not right for you to sleep on the floor. The bed is big enough for both of us. I do not see why two sensible adults cannot be realistic! There are two blankets on the bed. I will get under the second one and you can get under the top one. And… and we'll have a separation between us, but you will not suffer so.” She was embarrassed at proposing such a plan, but knew that it was the fairest, most sensible course of action. Yet her suggestion met with complete silence.

Darcy was ruminating. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he wanted to. The gentleman and pirate seemed to be locked in some bloody duel to the death. Only one of them would win. There could be no drawl.

Darcy did not join Elizabeth in her bed. But still every hopeful in Darcy's greater common sense, Elizabeth scooted back against the wall, knowing that she had done all she could. He was stubborn, that man, and strange. And different. She couldn't quite make him out though, ever since he had kidnapped her from her wedding, he had been constantly in her thoughts. She welcomed the distraction from her queasy stomach. She barely noticed it as she slowly began to drift off to sleep. But what she did notice was the creak of the mattress just before she fell into her dreams; the heavy weight and warmth of a hard body just inches from her. Separated by a cover! Ha!

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 14 November 2004

Elizabeth woke up with a heavy pressure across her waist. It wasn't an unpleasant pressure, indeed it felt quite nice. Opening her eyes and peering down her blanket covered body, she spied an arm, comfortably and elegantly slung across her waist. Turning her gaze to the side, she wasn't surprised to see the back of a dark curly head. Quickly she reminded herself of her very logical reasons for doing something so shameful, namely sharing a bed with a man unwed. Yes, her motives had been pure: they had had nothing to do with how nice he had felt the day he kidnapped her, riding behind her on that horse, holding her tight in his well formed arms, such a lovely contrast to the would be husband she had left stuttering at the alter… No, nothing to do with any of that, and all to do with being kind and reasonable.

She had to get up. It was one thing to share a bed out of need and reason, quite another to linger there in the morning. But how to go about releasing herself from his arm with out waking him? She rolled to the left yet found no yield from the wall. If she dared to roll right she was sure to find no yield from the gentleman sleeping there. Hesitating, for a moment, she started to wiggle downward toward the foot of the bed, but quickly realized, the further his arm rose toward her chest, that this plan of action was particularly inappropriate. Wriggling back up, the arm tightened and pulled her close to the torso it was attached to.

“You move too much,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the mop of unruly black hair.

Well, she thought, he'd certainly done a good job of stopping her escape.

“Mr. Darcy, we should get up,” she rejoined, realizing for the first time how ineffective the blanket “barrier” was.

“Why?”

Shocked, Elizabeth exclaimed “But you are a gentleman sir! And this is not appropriate!”

“You suggested the idea,” then added as he rolled his head around to look at his bedmate, “And Mr. Darcy the gentleman has taken a temporary leave of absence.”

She was relieved to no longer be talking to the back of his head, but his dark sincere gaze which now held something akin to teasing in it very much unnerved her… but not necessarily in a bad way. “What do you mean sir?”

He grinned mischievously. “He was thrown overboard last night. Now, Darcy the gentleman would never even have taken you up on your most gracious offer of the bed last night.”

“And who, pray tell, are you sir?” she was grinning herself now, forgetting the impropriety of the moment; lost in the silliness of the moment and Darcy's daring smile.

“Fitzwilliam the Dread Pirate Darcy,” he said quite gravely.

Elizabeth was silent for a mere couple seconds before she burst out in mirthful laughter. Darcy did not see what was funny, yet could not help but let the corners of his grave mouth turn upward at the sight of her smiling and jovial countenance, the sound of her lilting and hearty laugh. “Mr. Darcy, you are so changed from when I first met you.”

“Changed?” Darcy did not think so. “How so? I am the same now as I was when first I met you, only my heart had not yet been touched. And I'd never before kidnapped a woman and ran away with her to anywhere intent on elopement. But then of course, you stole my heart first.”

Elizabeth could find no answer for this declaration. Not with him staring so intently into her eyes like that. Those dark deep eyes. She had to break away or else… she had to break his gaze. Quickly, she turned to stare at the ceiling. What had she been asking him? She thought back, he had completely thrown her off with his words. She had stolen his heart, he claimed. How had she never known it?! He was always so grim, so pensive and forbidding. Of course! Now she knew what it was she had told him, he had changed since she first met him. Was the change in him truly all her doing? She blushed lightly.

“Elizabeth, you've been quite for some time. Have I said something to offend you? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I should not have said such a thing.” Darcy was worried. Was she so indifferent to him that his declaration of love, so tenderly delivered affected her so meanly?

“No Mr. Darcy, you have offended me in no way, rather the opposite I would say.” She blushed a darker shade this time, and looked stubbornly toward the ceiling. She decided to bring to topic back to what it should be. “But you have changed sir, and I cannot think that it was all my doing. I must ask you a personal and rather… uncomfortable question, to ascertain if I'm correct in my appraisal.”

“Anything. I am at your service.”

“When… when did you begin to feel… deeper feelings for me?”

Darcy pursed his lips and pulled his dark brows together, seriously contemplating the question. “Hm. That is indeed a tough question.” One he figured he would answer in the hopes of gaining her love in return. He decided that the more he talked of his love for her, the more she might realize her own. It was a shot anyway. “In truth, I began to fall for you from the moment I saw you. And, again truthfully, it irked me. But your fine eyes soon got the best of me,” he smiled. “But, I believe I knew I loved you when you danced with me at Bingley's ball. When you challenged me with your gaze and threw verbal spears at my heart, I knew.”

“You are a strange man, to fall in love with a woman constantly fighting with you. I suppose it must be that no one else had the courage to, and you like brave women.”

“That must be it,” he agreed, a content smile on his face. She would not talk so comfortably about this if she did not in some way return his regard. He would have to ask her her very own question one day.”

“But you have proved my point Mr. Darcy. I cannot be the cause of your change. We were still in society long after Bingley's ball, and you were as grim and rude to my family and neighbors as you had been before that night.”

“Grim and rude! I've never been rude to a soul, unless they deserved it!”

“You are either self delusional, or a liar Mr. Darcy!” admonished Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in bed and turning her head to glare at him.

“I am neither!” shouted Darcy, mimicking Elizabeth. They both sat there in the crumpled bed, on a tiny boat being tossed about by the gentle sea, and glaring at each other ferociously. “Explain your words madam. So I may better understand your allegations and defend my actions.

“From the moment you took your place in the tiny sphere of our country society, you have looked down on us, refused to see beyond our meager fortunes to the people who lay beyond. You would not dance but with Bingley's sisters at that first ball, when many girls sat along the walls without partners.”

“Would it help if I said there was but one lady I desired to dance with that night?”

“I would not believe you sir. I have heard your mumbled yet scathing comments to your friend Miss. Caroline,” there was a hint of venom in Elizabeth's words when she all but spit out the name. “My family may be silly, but we are still gently born and bred. We may have no fortune to back our names and marriage prospects, but we are still of your station sir! I do not see how you managed to fall in love with me while hating my family and station, and seemingly hating me, the entire time!” She was livid. Forgetting propriety and decorum, she crawled right over Darcy and out of the bed. She stalked across the room, grabbed her one small bag, and marched to the small water closet that was adjacent their room.

Darcy was left startled and fuming and alone in the bed. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest before standing up and storming out of the room. Above deck, he leaned against the ship's railing and looked out over the dark, gently rolling sea. He had not been cold and aloof! He had not been rude and condescending! He had simply been… simply been himself! He mentally sent him back weeks past, further and further, sent himself back to the beginning. In his mind's eye, he surveyed himself in his memories. It was possibly his attitude could be misconstrued for a sense of superiority. But it wasn't. He knew that, but no one else did he reminded himself. He knew why he had acted so. But he did not know if he could admit this flaw to Elizabeth!

Darcy was shy. Horribly so. He remembered now that he had had so little friends while at school because of this malady. Bingley had been the only one determined and friendly enough to approach Dead Man Darcy (called so because of the dead, cold look on his face when in foreign company) and take the time to break down all of Darcy's carefully constructed walls. Bingley had helped Darcy overcome his social fears somewhat, but the darker and more somber man was still somewhat of a loner, feeling more comfortable in his own presence, than in the presence of others. Until now. He felt more comfortable now when Elizabeth was by his side than even when he was alone.

He had to tell her. But would she believe his excuse? The great lord and rich man Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had slept in her bed and just asserted his existence as a pirate was shy? She would never believe him. But he would try. He went back to the room, searching for a clean change of clothes, some fresh water to wash up in, and a lovely lady to apologize to.

She was not in the room. Worried, he knocked on the door to the water closet. No answer. He opened the door to find the small room bereft of any occupants. Calming himself, he made good on his other desires, a clean outfit and a brief scrub, and left the room in search of his captive. More like my captive, he corrected himself. She was nowhere above deck, and the captain had not seen her all day. Darcy's heart began to race, his pulse quickened and he took deep breaths to calm himself. One had to stay level headed when faced with a likely disaster. He searched to rooms in the ship one by one, which didn't take very long as the ship was extremely small. The last room in the boat was probably the one he should have checked first. But men in distress are not the most levelheaded of creatures.

She was sitting on top of a large, weathered, sliced, cut, yet steady table. Knives, pots and pans of all kinds hung dangerously above her head. A rather sharp and large knife grazed closely against a black curl. Quickly and deftly, Darcy jumped through the door into the kitchen and grabbed Elizabeth from the table. Not expecting such a thing to occur, Elizabeth let out a startled yelp. “Mr. Darcy! I shall never get used to you snatching me away from things. I do hope you do not make a habit of this! Could you relate to me the reason for this snatching? I do not think it could be `I love this woman' this time!”

“Unfortunately you are wrong. That statement is, most likely, at the root of it. You had a knife hanging above your head! Into your hair! Excuse me from feeling a bit concerned at the site. We are on a boat, being tossed violently about by waves!” He still held Elizabeth close to him, and would not have gave way had she not withdrew herself from his arms.

“Violent! The sea is so gentle today I can barely feel it… which is a good thing.” Then she added as an afterthought, “I am angry at you sir. And not because you pulled me so startlingly from the kitchen table.”

Darcy frowned. Could she not see that she could have been killed? She was reckless. She needed someone to watch over her. But he would never have the pleasure of such a task if he did not gain her trust and friendship again. “Elizabeth, Miss. Bennet, you were right, my behavior has been abominable. But I can explain.”

“I do not wish for excuses Mr. Darcy. What can you explain? There is nothing to explain.”

“But I fear there is. It… it embarrasses me to admit this to you… I… I am shy.” He said this last part under his breath, quickly.

“You are what sir? I did not hear that last part.” It would have been a miracle if Darcy had heard himself, he had said it so low. Diverting his eyes from his own, he stared down at his boots and repeated himself.

“I'm truly sorry Mr. Darcy, but I must have you repeat yourself once more. And look at me this time… please.” He did as she bade, but not first without a grumble. And once more Elizabeth saw truth. There was embarrassment, anger, pleading, and truth. “I believe you sir. Will you have breakfast with me? And tell me of this peculiar malady, and how it causes you to act like an ogre?” she smiled brightly at him and he found himself smiling slightly back. They had a wonderful, revealing breakfast. And indeed, the rest of the journey was very pleasant indeed.

They slept together the next night also. And again, Elizabeth woke up to a heavy arm around her waist. This time she did not wriggle away from it, but snuggled up against it until the man who owned it slipped silently from the bed. She feigned sleep until he had washed and left the room.

They stood together at the rail of the ship, looking out across misty waters and low hanging skies to a tiny sliver of land that loomed in the distance. His arm had snuck around her waist and she had let it stay. This would be over when they reached that tiny sliver. She would start searching for a job as a governess and he would leave her to go back to his home. He might even go back to Netherfield and his friends the Bingleys and Hursts. She blocked the thought from her mind and with all her bravery, leaned her head upon his shoulder. The act made him tighten his arm around her waist lean his own head against hers. He was winning her. He knew he was. He let himself hope he was.

“What are you thinking of Elizabeth?”

“Netherfield,” she answered truthfully without thinking. She would not let him think she had been thinking of him. “I was thinking of my sister, and your friend. And how they must miss us and wonder where we are.”

The thought of Bingley and Jane together bothered Darcy. Would his friend still be in love with the elder Miss. Bennet? Did she truly return his affections or was she simply a fortune hunter. Her sister was not that certain. Though he could not say as much for the rest of her family. Especially the mother. He did not voice these thoughts, but having the one person who might be able to relieve his worry about his friend and his “angel”, he could not keep completely silent. “Elizabeth, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“Your sister… does she know that Mr. Bingley seems to be in love with her?”

“Yes! Who could not see what is so plainly writ in every crevice of his face, every intonation of his voice,” she laughed.

“Does your sister love him back? Where it is quite obvious to see how Bingley feels, your sister's own heart is unreadable my lady. I do not wish for my friend to make an offer of marriage and be turned down. He is of a sensitive temperament. The last time he was “in love” he was heartbroken for several months. Though I do not believe he was truly in love that time. Yet, I cannot help but feel that he truly is this time. I would just like to know that your sister feels the same… and that her motives are pure.” Maybe, he thought afterwards, I should not have added that last part. Hopefully she would not take it the wrong way.

If he had seen Elizabeth's face, he would have seen it become quite serious before she answered. “My sisters motives are pure sir,” she answered coldly, though she did not move from his side. “And she is very much in love with your good friend. And I sincerely hope he voices his adoration soon, for I would love to hear of Jane's happiness if I cannot see it for myself.”

She was not mad at him. Thank the wonderfully good Lord! But she sounded sad. She did not think that she would ever see her sister again, or at least not soon. But he would take her wherever she wished to go! And especially if it was to see the two people most dear to them wed. He only hoped that they would be wed when they went, or else… or else they would not be there he reminded himself. Because it would not be proper to travel together, to live together in sin. Then did she not return his feelings? Did she not count on his marrying him?

“Elizabeth, what shall you do when we land?” he asked tentatively.

“I shall place an ad in a local paper for anyone needing someone to fill the position of governess.”

“Where will you stay?” He now turned to face her, taking each of her hands in his own.

“I suppose I shall find a room in some village until my ad is answered. Then, of course, I stay with my employer.”

“In some small cold room where you will catch your death of cold.” He peered intently down at him but she refused to meet his gaze.

“I have no other option. I cannot go home. I cannot marry Mr. Collins. Will not!” she added to enforce the matter. “The only other choice I have is to find employment. The only employment I am suited to is governess.” She looked out at the sea as she spoke these words, and felt her hands in his like hot coals.

“That is not your only option Elizabeth. Do you not know that?” Asked Darcy, forcing her to face him. She had tears glistening in the corners of her fine eyes and Darcy, brushed them away, wishing he could do so with his lips.

“I am not sure if there is another option. I do not dare hope for another one. The hope, the feeling, is so new in me, so new to me, that I know not what to do with it.”

“May I show you what to do with it Elizabeth? Will you let me show you?” His face crept closer to hers. Yet, even inches from her mouth, he halted, waiting for an answer. The pirate in him pushed him to dip down and take what he wanted, but the gentleman was adamant. He would wait for her consent.

“Please do. For I fear I am lost and need a guide.”

“Gladly my lady.” And with those words, he leaned in brushed her soft lips with his own. They stayed in this embrace for quite some time as Darcy led Elizabeth on a trip of rather startling and life changing revelations. She pulled her hands from his hands and ran them through the hair at the nape of his neck and he mimicked her action.

A whistle from behind them pulled them apart. The looked behind them to see a crew member smiling broadly, happy to see the physical love of the “married” couple. He chuckled as he went about his business and left Elizabeth and Darcy once again alone on the deck.

“Are you still lost?” choked Darcy.

“So that I fear I shall never find my way out!” she replied. “But, as long as you are my guide… then I shall brave it.”

He had no choice but to kiss her again. She had no desire to turn him away.

Chapter Four

Posted on Thursday, 18 November 2004

When they stepped off the boat onto the firm Scottish soil, Darcy carried their bags straight to the nearest respectable inn. It would still be a day's carriage ride to his estate and he and Elizabeth would need a roof over their heads. The night was crisp and inky black and Elizabeth's steps were slow and sleepy.

Darcy had not allowed her to sleep aboard the ship that night. “We shall sleep in a real room tonight,” he had told her. “And in separate beds.” This was his real reason for keeping Elizabeth up well past the witching hour. He did not want to leave her side, yet he knew he could not share a bed with her tonight and be a patient man. He must have a wall between himself and the object of his desire, no matter how much it pained him.

He paid for the rooms and followed the small boy up the stairs, a sleepy Elizabeth on his arm. The boy opened two doors side by side that led to Darcy and Elizabeth's adjoining rooms, then left when Darcy handed him a small shiny coin.

“Sleep,” he said to the yawning woman before him. Following her into one of the bedrooms, he kissed her softly on the lips. “Strangely, I am not yet tired. If you need me, I will be downstairs in the tavern. I have many things to get ready. Many plans to make my dear.” He smiled at her as she shook her head in acquiescence, and left the room.

Mechanically, Elizabeth washed her face, changed for the first time in several days, into a night shift, and threw herself under the covers. Pulling the warm blankets up to her chin, she closed her eyes to fall asleep. Or rather, tried to fall asleep. But she couldn't. She tossed and turned and flailed once or twice. Something was wrong. Sitting up against the simple wooden backboard of the bed, she crossed her arms across her chest and wracked her now alert brain for the problem. Why, when she'd been so tired, practically dead on her feet a few moments ago, could she not now fall quickly into a peaceful slumber? She was in a bed, was not being tossed about by the sea, it was probably close to morning, and she KNEW she was tired. Why then couldn't she sleep?

Perhaps…perhaps it was because of these things that she could not sleep. She had grown accustomed to the gentle toss of the ocean, to the small hard bed, to… yes, she had grown accustomed to the presence of Mr. Darcy beside her… Fitzwilliam. He had told her to call him William. Fitzwilliam was his cousin whom he knew she'd love, though not as much as she loved himself of course. She smiled with amusement at the memory of his words.

So it was because of Darcy that she could not sleep. Her mind searched him out, and now so did her body. Lighting a candle, she pulled her dress back on, and quickly fixed her hair in a small mirror. She tripped lightly down the stairs in search of him, and asked the woman in charge if she had seen him.

“Mr. Darcy has taken a private room in the back my lady, for his supper.”

Elizabeth hadn't eaten all day! She'd simply forgot about food. But now she felt her empty stomach complain and headed toward the direction the good lady had indicated.

The door was slightly ajar and a warm crackly light spilled into the shadowed hallway. Elizabeth stole slowly closer, and as she did, heard soft voices from beyond the door. One of them was Darcy's. the other voice was unknown to her.

“Well my boy, I saw the young lady in town,” said the unknown voice.

“Yes,” came Darcy's strangely cold one.

“Yes. It's said she's to be your wife!”

“My wife! And who was it that led you to believe this false conclusion? For I must admonish that there is no truth, whatsoever, in that statement!” There was fire and anger in his words.

“Then you are not to marry?” calmly asked the stranger.

“No!”

Elizabeth could take no more. She stalked away from the door, up the stairs, and threw herself on the bed fully clothed. If he did not intend to marry her, then what exactly did he intend to do?!

The cad! She thought he had been sincere in his protestations of love; thought he'd had noble and pure intentions! She thought he was a true gentleman!

Her clenched fists loosened, her eyes, which she had slammed shut, popped open wide, she sat bolt upright in the bed as the truth of the situation and the realization of her own naiveté slammed into her.

“He is a bloody pirate!” she yelled at no one in particular. Had his actions been those of a gentleman? No! He had kidnapped her, charmed her, and shared her bed. He had made a fool of her. And to think, he had even told her the truth of the matter: “Darcy the gentleman was thrown overboard,” he had said, “I am the Dread Pirate Darcy.”

She had found it amusing and exciting at the time to find out that stiff spine Darcy had a sense of humor. Now she knew it wasn't humor, it was truth.

There was no way she would find rest and reams tonight. Not now. Keeping her anger in her heart, to keep the pain at bay, she swept over to a small desk that contained paper and ink. Thinking as she dipped her pen in the ink well, she began to write.

Has Elizabeth arrived at the half open door sooner, she would have heard Darcy welcoming the sight and company of an old friend. “Mr. Jones! How wonderful to see an old friend of my fathers!” Mr. Jones had been considerably younger than Darcy senior, and considerably younger than Darcy junior, putting in just in the middle, and accessible to both father and son. His untimely departure to America after Darcy senior's death was a great loss to the younger Darcy, and the young man welcomed warmly the familiar face.

“How is Georgiana? And Pemberly?”

“Wonderful, wonderful! Though,” his face grew somber, Georgiana had a few problems last year. She is a brave, strong girl though.”

“Yes, yes she is. I hope everything is alright William,” said the man with fatherly care.

“Oh yes,” replied Darcy with a glint in his eye,” it is and soon will be better.”

“I think I know to what and whom you refer to.”

“Oh you do?” Darcy was confused. “Of course you do. I'm sure it is the biggest scandal,” said Darcy without the least bit of shame.

“Scandal? Oh no, to no one but those who “really” know Miss. Caroline Bingley.”

“I'm not sure I follow. We must be speaking of different things.”

“Well my boy, I saw the young lady in town.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. It is said she is to be your wife!”

Of course we already know the objections that fell from Darcy's lips after such a statement. And it is also tragic to know that, because fate and eavesdropping always work against the happiness of a couple, Elizabeth left at a most inappropriate time. For with Darcy's stern negative to the idea of marriage, she left, and the vile woman's name once again graced the lips of the two men ensconced in the fire lit chamber.

“Damn that Caroline Bingley!” cried Darcy.

“Calm your temper boy, calm your temper. Her rumors can do you no harm, but tell me, you mentioned a scandal. How could such an illustrious and proper name as yours be so associated?”

Darcy told him all, glad for a fatherly shoulder to help bear the weight of his actions and thought.

Mr. Jones laughed…heartily. Long, loud guffaws that carried upstairs to a stoic Elizabeth who heard not but the scratch of pen on paper and the whirl of thoughts in her head.

“So this is the woman you will marry eh William? If she can tempt you to do that, then I cannot wait to meet the maid!”

“I wish you to Roger, tomorrow perhaps? Will you witness our wedding?”

“Gladly, but first I must gather my daughters.”

“Your daughters? I… I never knew you had daughters, or children of any kind! How old are they?” How had he known this man for as long as he had and not known this? Surely they were new babes. Surely he had picked up a wife and children in America.

“Yes. Elaina and Rene. Twenty and sixteen.”

“Twenty and sixteen!”

The man laughed. Hard to believe, I know.”

“How come I never knew of them Roger! Did my father know?!”

“Yes, he knew. They lived with their mother, who lived in New York. That is why I moved the America William, to be with them.”

“How come they didn't live with you?”

“Because my wife left me, and took my daughters. I had not seen Elaina since she was four, and had never seen Rene. Not until I tracked them down in New York.”

“I had no idea. I'm sorry.” Darcy was deeply affected by the pain he saw deep in the older man's eyes.

“That is all past. I have my daughters now. And I should love to introduce them to you and your lovely fiancée.” He smiled, abolishing all pain from his features.

Darcy went to bed soon afterwards. He checked in on Elizabeth's sleeping form then, with some visible effort, tore himself from her peaceful visage to crawl into his own bed. With a wall between them.

He did not see his lovely captive until the next morning. He had taken breakfast in the same back room when she came calmly storming in. He did not understand how she could be calm and stormy at once, but her frozen features and cold movements together with that tumultuous, furious look in her eyes, spoke of trouble. What had happened? She slammed a newspaper on the table beside his breakfast plate.

“I was lucky to find the printer open last night.” It was a lie. She had banged on the printers door until he gave her entrance. She had told him so sob story to coerce him to print her ad.

“What is this?” Asked Darcy, picking up the paper.

“Read. It's quite obvious what it is.”

Darcy picked up the paper and silently read to himself. Quickly, he reached the part that was of most interest to both of them. Finished with the offending and rather surprising advertisement printed there, he raised an eyebrow and hurt gaze to Elizabeth. “Is this you advertisement?”

“Yes. I just thought you would like to know. I'm sure a reply will arrive for me soon. I will be off your hands for good sir.”

“Elizabeth?” Darcy rose from his chair and stepped tentatively toward her.

“No. I've made up my mind. I will not be played with. Our dealings are done sir.” And before the shock of such a statement could register in Darcy's wounded mind and heart, she was gone.

Chapter Five

Posted on Sunday, 21 November 2004,

Elizabeth was surprised to get an answer to her ad so quickly. Before she could lay her head on her pillow, the very day she threw her ad at Mr. Darcy, a heavy cream-colored envelope arrived addressed to her. It could only be one thing, she thought as she sat down at the little desk in her room. She had kept herself busy all day, remaking her wedding dress. She refused to wear Darcy's gowns. They were not befitting her new station in life. In them she was not her own woman, she was Darcy's. A day before, this thought might have made her feel a possessiveness toward the man who bought her such nice dresses. Today… she wished not to think about it. She had removed all the lace, all the pearls, from her dress; she had carefully pulled the intricate embroidery from its bodice. When she was done, it was a simple white gown devoid of all decoration and embellishment. It was plain and course. Perfect for her new station in life. She lifted out of the daze she had fell into and carefully opened the letter.

Miss. Bennett,

My children and I have just recently arrived here in Scotland. I was relieved to see your advertisement, as I am looking for a governess for my young son and a companion for my daughters. If you agree, your services are greatly needed immediately. I have no time for a reply to my letter. If you accept this job, simply be in front of your hotel at six tomorrow morning. A carriage will be waiting to take you to my estate.

Before you make your decision, I feel you should know that my name is synonymous with scandal. Your reputation might be tarnished for taking a job related to my household. All my servants take this risk. Is it one you are willing to take? If you accept my offer, we will discuss a salary once you have arrived.

Sincerely,
Mr. Roger Jones

Elizabeth was no stranger to scandal, especially not lately. She liked Mr. Jones' honesty; it spoke of a respectable man with a sense of humor, despite his reputation. She knew that she could not impugn on Mr. Darcy's hospitality any longer. She would pay back every penny for the dresses and room; she would be in that carriage at six.

The travel in the carriage had been lonely and tiring, but the house Elizabeth rolled up to was incredible beyond belief. It was a Scottish castle overgrown with the richest green ivy. The rolling hills that surrounded it were bright indeed, a glowing green backdrop for the deep green and gray of the castle and it's ivy. She was shown upstairs to her room by a bright-eyed young maid who was too shy to talk unless spoken to.

“You must be mistaken,” admonished Elizabeth. “This room is too grand for me! Surely you've shown me to the wrong room.”

The maid looked nervous, the small smile on her lips disappearing. “Oh no ma'am. This is the exact room. The master showed me himself.” She decided to be offended instead of scared, and with a flip of her nose upward, left the room and closed the door behind her.

Elizabeth, who had been expecting a small cold room somewhere close to the children's quarters had every right to be surprised by the elegance that confronted her. She sat with a thump on the bed, feeling quite overwhelmed. She would take up the subject of her lodgings with he employer when first she met him. With this thought, she went to the mirror to tidy herself up before being shortly presented before him. She was pale and tired looking, and the simple white dress that was wore on the day that was supposed to have been the end of her life, but ended up being just the beginning, washed out her features even more, making her look almost sickly. But, she sighed, there was nothing to be done about this. She could not afford new clothing until paid Mr. Darcy back. Which she would do. She felt quite certain that he would try to fight her on this, but she would fight him back every step of the way.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”

“Miss. The master wishes to see you now.” Nodding her head, she followed the maid down the grand staircase and knocked on a large dark wooden door to the right.

“Come in!” said a jolly voice from the other side of the door. The maid opened the door, and granted a suddenly shy and nervous Elizabeth entrance. The man she saw sat in a small yet comfortable looking chair to the side of the large mahogany desk centered in the room. “Ah! You must be the incomparable Miss. Bennett,” said the man, rising and striding across the room to grasp and thoroughly shake her hand. He was tall and well built with warm brown eyes and hair that was slightly silvered at temples and sprinkled like pepper throughout. He had laugh lines about his eyes and mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, making a slight bow once he had released her. “Are you Mr. Jones?”

“Yes, yes my dear, I am the very man. Now, have a seat my dear, and we'll discuss you're wages.”

“Before we do… I think that I've been put in the wrong room sir.”

“Oh no. I'm sure you were put right where you were intended to be put.”

“Oh no, the room is too grand sir. Surely there is some mistake.”

“Hm. Well, if you insist, but I would know nothing of it.” Mr. Jones' face went beat red. “I'm afraid I've not been completely honest with you Miss. Bennett.”

The very man she had admired for being utterly honest in his letter! All men were the same! First Darcy, then her employer… sigh. “Yes Mr. Jones.”

“This is not my estate Miss. Bennett. It belongs to a very good old friend who is providing me and my family with sanctuary while in this country. I'm afraid he is the one who has housed you in such an unsatisfactory manner.”

“Oh, I had no idea. My presence here isn't unsatisfactory in any way is it?”

“Oh quite the contrary dear,” said Mr. Jones slyly.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing dear, nothing. Let us go up and meet the girls. I'm afraid my friend and master of this house has abducted my son Hinton. You will meet him later.”

With that, she was swept upstairs to a series of large rooms on the third floor. She was ushered into a quaint little sitting room in between two bedrooms. Much to her amazement, two of the most exotic girls she had ever seen stood facing each other off in the middle of the room. Both had long curly dark hair that hung down their shoulders, defiant of all decorum and propriety. When they noticed that they were no longer alone in the room, they turned their sparking glares toward their father and guest. They were of the same height and build. The one on the right had slightly darker hair and lighter brown eyes, though her irises were not far from black. Her sister's hair had more auburn in it, more sunshine to it, and her eyes were as black as coal. Their skin was not the faint porcelain so coveted by Miss. Bingley and the rest of polite society. They were tanned darkly, the girl on the left more so than her sister however, whose skin had more of a dark olive look to it. “Hello father,” said the girl on the right. There was a sincere look of affection in the girl's eyes.

“Hello father,” echoed her sister, who still possessed an angry spark in the black wells of her orbs.

“Girls, I simply do not want to know what you were arguing about. I'm here to introduce your new governess.” The one with the darker hair shot him a deadly look. “I'm sorry, your new companion.” This seemed to appease her. “Miss Bennett, this is my eldest, Elaina,” he stepped toward the girl with the darker hair and affectionate eyes. They shook hands. Stepping to the other girl he announced, “And this is Rene, my youngest. Sixteen. Has yet to come out you know. She should this year. But we'll see.” Rene gave him a deadly scowl.

“I will be out this season Miss Bennett, whether my father approves or not.”

Elizabeth's eyes widened and Mr. Jones stepped closer to the door. “I'll just leave you ladies to get better acquainted,” said the cowering man as he left the room and practically ran down the hallway.

Elizabeth was left alone staring down her two charges, or rather, they were staring her down. “Well,” she said, not knowing quite what to say.

“Well,” they said in unison.

“You two could pass as twins! You look so much alike; only small differences.”

“We do not!” admonished Rene.

“Haha. Some say we do, some swear we don't. It's all in the eye of the beholder, as is everything else,” replied Elaina. Her younger sister rolled her eyes.

“What is your first name?” asked the younger brazen beauty.

“Rene! Don't ask that!”

“No, it's fine. My name is Elizabeth. And now it is my turn to be bold. Why were you two about to tear each others heads off when I came in?”

Both girls' attitudes froze up and their glares turned fiery. The eldest answered first. “The same thing we always fight about, our mother.”

“Don't you say a word about her!”

“She took us from our father! She cheated on him! She left me to raise you!”

“You were never my mother! She raised me, not you! Why do you hate her for living her life!?”

“I do not hate her! I simply don't respect her! She was a lively person! A horrible mother!”

Elizabeth could see that they were about to start throwing fists; she had to do something and fast. “Girls!! Girls!! I think it's time we left this alone! If neither of you will listen to the other because you're so bent on screaming at each other, then this will lead no where good. I have four sisters of my own. What helps when we get in fights is separation. Now, each of you to your own rooms.”

Both girls turned annoyed gazes on her. Startled, she focused all her attention on not running away, and stared defiantly back. “Fine! You do not have to listen to me! But I will not stand here and listen to you scream at each other!” Elizabeth left the room, slamming the door after her. But she seemed to have slammed one door and walked into another. But it wasn't a door, it was a man. Looking up, expecting to see Mr. Jones, she tried valiantly not to faint at the man she did see there. There the pirate stood in all his frowning glory. She lost, she fainted.

Chapter Six

Posted on Sunday, 28 November 2004

Elizabeth awoke to four very curious pairs of eyes staring at her. Not willing to feel or think for the moment, she contemplated the various gazes. The two to the left of the bed were dark bright eyes fringed in thick lashes, their gazes ranged from bored to worried. The gazer who stood next to those two was… shorter and lighter. The little dark haired boy who peeked over the edge of her bed had the bluest eyes she had ever seen, and they were filled with wonderment. The last gaze that fell on her was the most uncomfortable and all encompassing she had ever been exposed to.

Darcy's deep eyes kept hers, and as always, she was able to read the depths of his soul there. He was confused, and hurt… and determined. She found it hard to remember why she had been so mad at him. Finding her voice, she spoke, but… not so intelligently.

“I did not faint,” she announced. Both girls at the end of her bed burst into mirthful laughter and their small brother's face lit in a playful smile. The smile of the tall man however, was more serious, and more solemn.

“I would never accuse you of so heinous an act my lady, but I'm afraid we have witnesses,” he swept his hand toward the three beside him who wore the looks of innocent angels. The eldest daughter, Elaina, spoke up.

“He,” she said referring to Darcy, “would have us leave you and he unattended in your room. But I would not hear of it! I don't care if he is master of this house! It would not be proper!”

“Oh there you go again,” muttered her sister. “Always after what is proper. I say let them alone! It's romantic!”

“Well, if you're so set on letting them alone, then why'd you follow us in here?!” Elaine beamed, predicting her rightful victory to that last verbal battle.

Darcy interrupted the girls' heated arguing, “I believe it is time for you to leave. I need to speak privately with Miss Bennet.”

“Oh, but Mr. Darcy,” spoke Elizabeth, “it would not be at all a proper example to set for the girls.”

“I don't care.” Said he to an astonished room, “I will be obeyed. Now,” he fixed a determined gaze on Mr. Jones' children. “Out.”

While Rene rolled her eyes and took her younger brother's hand, Elaina glared fiercely. A glare that, to be truthful, even took Mr. Darcy aback. When he was alone with his Elizabeth, he pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat down, stretching out and crossing his long, muscular, well-shaped legs.

Elizabeth chided herself for noticing such things, but could not help but glance appreciatively anyway. Neither knew what to say, how to begin.

“What are you doing here Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth peevishly.

“Why… because I live here of course.”

Silence once again descended upon the room until she chose to speak. “This must be a coincidence,” she said stubbornly and stupidly.

Darcy laughed. “Yes, just as my kidnapping you was an accident! Your being here madam, is as calculated as was my kidnapping you.”

“So… you just happened to have a friend here in need of a governess for his children? Or are they actors and peasants hired to play a part?” There was anger in her eyes.

“No, no, they are real. I certainly could not dream up children such as those, or give them to a man such as their father! It really is unexplainable. I never even knew Roger had children until the other day! It was fate that I ran into him the night we arrived in Scotland. If we hadn't I'd of had to do something illegal after you walked out on me yesterday. An action I feel compelled to tell you that you will explain to me before I leave this room!” There was a calm strength to Darcy's words. He meant every one of them.

Elizabeth was beginning to feel a bit confused. Perhaps she had acted hastily. She had heard him say he would never marry her, but he had gone to such lengths to bring her back to him. And just as she was about to attribute his desire for her to a purely lustful emotion, his intentions to her as unworthy and ignoble, her eyes met his. She would have to remember from now on that his eyes did strange things to her. She saw strange things in them. What she saw in them was… love. Pure, simple love. He would never sully her good name, her nobility by taking her as a mistress, by not honoring her with marriage.

But she had heard him. Heard his words spoken so sternly and mockingly.

But she also hated to give in. To lose. If she spoke to him now, he won. She had never felt so much confusion in her life.

“Elizabeth, speak. Please.” She glared, until she heard the pleading note of his please. He was exasperated by her, and with her. He loved her, and she was pushing his love away. It irked him beyond belief!

She sighed. “Is Mr. Jones the man you were talking to the night we arrived here? In that back room?”

Now it was Darcy's turn to be confused. “Yes, but how did you know I talked to him that night?”

“I could not sleep. So I went to find you. I heard you talking to a man.”

“Why did you not come in? I would have liked to introduce the woman I had thought was to be my wife.”

Elizabeth was startled from the bed. She flew up and towered over the sitting Darcy.' “That word! Wife! Wife implies marriage Mr. Darcy!”

“Of course it does! What else would it mean Elizabeth?” His voice rose to join hers now, making them more easily heard for the three sets of ears we know must have been pasted to the door.

“You are so indecisive sir! Is it your habit to flip flop on all issues?”

“I do not understand dear lady.” Darcy's tone was cold. “Please explain so I may defend myself.”

“Gladly! When I approached the door that night, I heard Mr. Jones tell you that he had seen me in town, and of his guess that we were to be married. You, sir, denied ever thinking about the possibility of marrying me.” Elizabeth glared fiercely at him before turning her back to him to stare out the window.

Silence once again descended. But only shortly, for quite quickly, Darcy's jovial laughter tore through the air. He jumped from his chair and placed his arms around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her back against his chest. She was so shocked by this that she did not, indeed could not, react as Darcy planted soft kisses atop her hair.

Elizabeth began to feel that she had somehow made a mistake; that she had acted foolishly. Turning around in his arms, she placed her hands on his chest to push herself away from him. And though she achieved the desired effect of distance, she found that his hands still rested possessively and naturally on her hips. He smiled that devastating smile down at her.

She frowned. She did not like being laughed at. “Mr. Darcy, I do not like being laughed at. Please, share with me the joke.”

Darcy wished to kiss the frown from her face, but decided that kisses might be more readily appreciated if the way was cleared by words first.

“Elizabeth, the lady in question, the one you overheard us speaking of was not you.”

Confusion, she guessed, was from now on to be a constant companion in her thoughts.

“Then who were you talking of?”

“Miss Bingley,” he said with a laugh. And after a second Elizabeth laughed with him, placing her head on his chest. Darcy would not speak, afraid to dislodge her head from its natural place. But she lifted it herself after a while and sat, dejectedly, on the bed.

“You love me,” she said with a frown, realization finally dawning on her.

“Of course I do,” he said, sitting beside her.

She looked at him, “But I'm such a fool. How could I have misinterpreted your words? I had so much evidence to the contrary. You are too good a man to love a fool.”

Now it was Darcy's turn to frown. “Love makes men and women fools. Elizabeth, I did not laugh earlier because I thought you foolish. My laugher was for joy. To me, the fact that you were so upset by what you thought you heard just proved to me that you cared.” He thought for a moment. “And besides… I am not a good man. I kidnapped you. I brought you here to my house with the plan of… well, never mind what my plan was. It wasn't good. Well, for me it was, and I supposed for you too…”

Elizabeth chuckled at this outward contemplation of his thoughts. The sound brought him out of his reverie with a blush.

“But I am not a good man,” he added solemnly. “I am a pirate.”

Elizabeth's large warm smile moved him to pull her closer.

“But you are. You did not kidnap me, you saved me.” And Darcy knew these words to be true. Truly! Mr. Collins as his Elizabeth's husband! The idea was absurd and insupportable. “And you brought me here for an answer,” continued Elizabeth. “An answer as to why I ran away yesterday.”

“Yes… Yes, that's why I brought you here…” They both knew it wasn't. They both smiled and Darcy drew her into a kiss.

“Elizabeth, I am going to ask you a question. And if I don't get the answer I want, well, I have a ship ready. I'm afraid I'll have to roll you up in those blankets, toss you over my shoulder, and carry you to Egypt or America, or Antarctica. Just somewhere far away where seasickness and close daily proximity will make you fall in love with me. She laughed at his seriousness.

With a twinkle in her eye she said, “Well, Dread Pirate Darcy, that is quite a threat. I guess it leaves me little options. What, sir, is your question?”

“Marry me.” It was not a question.

“So, marry you, or you kidnap me again. I should expect no softer alternatives from a pirate.”

Her tone was playful, her face glowing. Darcy was quite pleased with the prospect of her answer.

“Your answer Madame,” he said playfully strict.

“Yes. Since I do hate traveling by_” but she could not finish for her pirate fiancé's lips covered hers, preventing speech.

After a very pleasant interlude, Elizabeth looked up into Darcy's eyes, smiling. She left his arms and walked to the closed door.

“And just where do you think you're going?” asked a very happy Darcy who was not quite willing to let his Elizabeth out to see the rest of the world.

“I'm going to be a governess.” She left the room with an impish grin.

Chapter 7

Posted on Tuesday, 7 December 2004

Four sets of curious ears stumbled clumsily backwards as the bedroom door swung open. Elizabeth had anticipated three of these sets of ears, and the addition of a fourth eavesdropper made her blush. Fortunately, Mr. Jones' reddened cheeks spoke of embarrassment also. He fumbled with his words, “Ah… Miss Bennet. I was… uh… I was just… Miss Bennet,” He finished decisively, “Are you recovered?” Elizabeth might have laughed had a loud bellows not emanated from the room she had just exited.

“What do you mean you're going to be a governess?” When the owner of the voice did not follow his words into the hall, Elizabeth, and the four eavesdroppers entered the room themselves. Darcy stood rooted to one spot. Meeting his gaze, Elizabeth began to wonder if her words had been such a good idea after all.

“Sir, I was hired to be a companion to these two young women, and a governess for this child. I do not, indeed feel that I cannot, withdraw my services,” answered Elizabeth calmly.

“Oh yes you can! You just agreed to marry me! That agreement makes all previous arrangement null and void.”

Elizabeth could not counter these words, for a cacophony of sounds: gasps, giggles, groans and sighs arose from behind her.

“They're getting married!” came the excited pronouncement from Elaina.

“I told you so,” said her sister.

Their father smiled widely and strode across the room to Darcy, grasping and shaking his hand. “Congratulations my boy! After meeting your Miss Bennet this morning I just knew it was meant to be!”

The little boy stood by his sisters, wide-eyed and curious as to what a wedding meant.

And Mr. Darcy suddenly realized that Elizabeth was not the only one in the room. After a single bewildered instant, he returned the handshake and spoke. “Roger, tell Elizabeth that she was not truly needed here as a governess in the first place.”

Mr. Jones looked dubious. “Actually Darcy, It would be nice to have her help. But just until Rachel arrives,” he added last minute.

“Rachel? Who's Rachel?” asked Elizabeth.

“She's my wife,” answered Mr. Jones. “Hinton's mother. The girls' stepmother.”

This must be the scandal he had written of in his letter, thought Elizabeth. Divorce! She had never actually known a divorced person before, and her heart and ever-curious mind reached out to the girls who stood before her now. Turning to her fiancée she said, “Mr. Darcy, I will marry you. But only after Mrs. Jones arrives. Until then, I believe my services are needed elsewhere.”

Darcy thought about fighting her, this decision. But even the pirate in him cowered at the thought of an enraged Elizabeth. If he stole her away while angry and married her, then he would have an enraged and uncomplying wife. Which could not be a good thing, thought he. But he was used to getting his way.

“Roger, when is your wife due to arrive?”

“Three weeks from now,” was the answer.

“Three weeks…” mulled Darcy. “Three weeks… Fitzgerald!” screamed the man.

A short pudgy man with vibrant orange hair, a down turned mouth, and narrowed squinting eyes almost immediately entered the room. It seemed as if other on pretend errands that brought them, conveniently, to the hallway in front of the door, had taken the Jones' lead, and taken up eavesdropping.

“Yes sir?” asked the man who was presumably Fitzgerald.

“Yes. Send word to that ship I hired to… Roger, where is your wife at the moment?”

“In Bath, visiting her parents,” replied a confused Mr. Jones. “She'll leave there in a little over two weeks.”

“Send the ship to Bath,” said Darcy, turning back to Fitzgerald. “And tell them that the quicker they return, the larger their pay. Roger, write her a note and give it to Fitzgerald, along with the address of her parent's dwelling. Fitzgerald, give these items to the captain.” Finally, he turned to Elizabeth, smiling. “I see you are determined. But you must understand my lady, so am I.”

Chapter 8

Posted on Wednesday, 15 December 2004

Darcy was getting impatient. And it had only been a couple of hours since their agreement had been struck! Not trusting himself fully around his bride to be, he decided it would be best to avoid her presence all together. Which was a torture all in itself, he thought as he glared gloomily into an empty fireplace in a small but neat private study. He contemplated how long it would take the ship to reach bath, how long it would take the captain to find Mr. Jones's wife, and then how long it would take for them to return. A little over a week perhaps, thought Darcy hopefully.

He plopped himself down on a very comfortable, very large leather chair and continued to contemplate the empty fireplace. Actually, it was merely the direction his gaze lay in, for his mind's eye was in quite a different place. It lay upon the sleeping form of Elizabeth Bennett, as she had laid in the bed after her uncharacteristic swooning fiasco. Her dark curls had toppled from their hair pins and lay lovely and caressingly around her face. There was a serene look about her soft lips and her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. Her neck was slim and creamy and… and… and awfully washed out when set against the awful shade of what Darcy now realized had been her wedding dress. Of course, it was a very altered wedding dress, but it was still the garment she had donned on the morning she was forced to marry Collins. Perhaps the color was just off, thought Darcy, or perhaps the dress simply knew for what man it was being worn and formed to suit the toad. Perhaps the dress had been picked out with Collins in mind, or the slimy creature had actually had a hand in selecting it. Whatever it was, the dress was awful, and made Elizabeth look extremely ill.

The memory of Elizabeth's attire sparked another memory. After she had stormed away from him at the inn, he had found the dresses he had bought for her in his room. Well, he'd just give the dresses back! Standing up, he walked purposefully toward the door, but stopped dead in his tracks, hand poised to grab the doorknob. She wouldn't wear them. Of this Darcy was quite certain. He had only coerced her into wearing them from the start because they were traveling disguised as a married couple. Yes, knew Darcy, Elizabeth would insist on dressing according to her station. And until the young girls' stepmother arrived, she was a governess, and not suited for the finery that Darcy had picked out and purchased for her. Tis a pity, thought Darcy, the dresses become her quite well.

There had to be a solution to this. No future wife of his, temporary governess or not, would wear an old, ugly, altered wedding dress… Mr. Collins' wedding dress at that! He marched back over to his chair to once again ponder the nonexistent flames. The scowl that spread to his handsome dark eyes and that would frighten the bravest of men (even pirates) deepened with every thought that failed in bringing him a solution.

The scowl was gone. In one lightening quick thought, one instantaneous revelation, it had been abandoned for the sneakiest of smiles, a most roguish grin.

“Elizabeth…” spoke Rene tentatively, “may I ask where you got that dress?”

Elizabeth and the young women ventured out of doors the day after Mr. Darcy had sent Fitzgerald away with his missives, and were now ensconced within a very old, very fantastic ring of weathered gray stones. The grass that grew up around them was the greenest any of the girls had seen in their lives and the wind that swept their hair from their faces and necks must certainly have carried some ancient magical melody. Elizabeth sat on one of the stones, face to the wind, enjoying nature's beauty. Rene lay on her stomach in the grass, fingering wild flowers and thinking to herself. Elaina who lay face up, book in hand, had completely tuned out the world around her.

Elizabeth looked up at the younger sister, confused at such a question. “I… it was…” she didn't know whether or not to tell the girls of Mr. Darcy's actions on the day of her wedding to Mr. Collins. Would it be the proper thing for a governess to do? “That is not of consequence Rene. Tell me, what are you thinking? Elaina, what are you reading?”

Elaina looked up from her book. “I think you avoid the question for a very pertinent reason Miss. Bennett. And I for one am dying of curiosity to know why.” She sat up quickly with a glimmer in her eyes. “Tell us your story Elizabeth. I know there is one. A storyteller can smell a good story a mile away!”

Now this is interesting, thought Elizabeth. “A storyteller!? Pray tell, what do you mean by this Elaina?” But Elaina did not answer.

“My sister is a writer. If she is not reading some infernal book, she's got pen and parchment glued to her hands. But really, she does have a very good nose for interesting fables. You cannot hide your past from us. We are very nosy. Besides, the very fact that the handsomest man in the world is violently in love with you is the most compelling clue that you have a fascinating story to tell.”

“Yes,” spoke Elaina, “you must tell us, for we will not give up. We were raised in America mind you, and know a thing or two about perseverance.” Elizabeth looked from one lovely face to another and knew she would have to tell them. They really were a deadly team when working together. And truth be told, in a small way, she wanted to share her adventures.

“Ok. You asked about my dress… where I got it from. Well, there used to be a string of pearls here.” She trailed her fingers along the neckline of the dress. “And here and here.” Now her fingers found the hem of the dress and cuffs of the sleeves. “There was an overlying goldish material that hung from the waist and opened in front to reveal the part you see now. And there as a bow at the waist line.”

“It sounds awful!” exclaimed Rene.

“Rene!” exclaimed Elaina. “Do not be so rude!”

“You would have me lie instead?”

“I would have you say nothing at all!”

“Girls!” shouted Elizabeth, “do you want to hear the story or not?” They silenced and turned expectant eyes toward her. “This ugly gown, for I quite agree it was horrible, was my wedding gown.” she paused, waiting for exclamations of some sort. And though she saw the shock in the girls' faces, she also saw that they were being considerate of her tale.

“Go on!” they both exclaimed at once.

Elizabeth did. “I was being forced to marry one of the most odious men you will ever have seen. His hair was greasy and his skin quite sickly looking. But that I could have stomached had it not been for his outrageous character.” Elizabeth described Mr. Collins' incessant compliments and abnormal love for Rosings and Lady Catherine Debourgh. The girls groaned at appropriate places and laughed uproariously when she mimicked his voice quite successfully. “This is indeed a grand staircase Madame, but, I am afraid, it holds nothing in comparison with that magnificent work of art that is the staircase at Rosings.”

“Well, obviously you didn't marry him. How did you escape this fate worse than death?” asked Elaina.

“It was very much like something out of a book… only very different. For in books, when the preacher asks if anyone has a reason these two should not be wed, the very handsome, very charming love of the bride's life comes storming through the doors with exaltations of love on his lips. And this happened, but it did not happen.” The girls were growing very confused. “When the preacher spoke his liberating words, a very handsome man did storm down the isle with words of love on his lips. I believe his words were something along the lines of `I love this woman and will not allow her to be married to a toad like Collins!'”

“Mr. Darcy! I would melt, be puddle at his feet if he asked me to.” Elaina rolled her eyes at her younger sisters exhortations but, secretly, shared them. “Shh Rene, she is trying to tell the rest of the story. It sounds exactly like in the books Elizabeth. What was different?”

“Well, Mr. Darcy was indeed very handsome, but… as I knew him then… he lacked charm, he lacked civility, and he lacked my love. His exclamations of love for me came completely as a surprise. A very shocking one I might add. I thought he viewed me as lower in society, a country bumpkin. I thought he despised me. And to tell the truth, I despised him.”

“But he was saving you from that toad of a minister!” this time it was Elaina who interjected into Elizabeth's monologue. “And you've agreed to marry him!”

“I must confess that when he threw me up in front of him on his horse, I was feeling quite elated and pleased with my surprise suitor. Even running off with a man I hated seemed far more pleasing that marrying Collins. And… I am ashamed to tell you this, but as the ride progressed, I found myself feeling quite amiable towards my kidnapper. There was a determination to him, a spark of adventure that I had never before seen in his lifeless, disagreeable countenance.” Not to mention how wonderful his arms felt about me, thought Elizabeth, wisely deciding not to voice this little piece of information. “And as we began to talk, I learned things about him that I had never thought possible. He was shy, protective, and no more prideful than any man of his station has a right to be. He was utterly truthful with me, and utterly caring of me. We devised the plan of traveling to Scotland as man and wife so as not to cause scandalous talk. He bought me rather beautiful dresses to play the part of his wife. And by the time we reached Scotland, I had every intention of keeping them, and him. But misunderstandings occurred, thanks to my foolishness, and I returned the dresses and once again donned my loathed wedding dress after taking off all the trimmings. I could not wear such finery as a governess.” Elizabeth ended her tale thusly, knowing that the girls knew everything from there, having eavesdropped on her and Darcy's confrontation and reconciliation.

“That… is a wonderful story…” stated Rene matter of factly.

“I knew it would be,” bragged Elaina. But the girls' thoughts soon turned elsewhere.

“Do you still have to wear that dress though?” asked Rene. “It really is quite awful, and frankly, I don't know of a single governess who would think it fit to wear.” Strangely enough, her older sister kept her remarks about Rene's rudeness to herself, and suspiciously didn't even appear to object to them.

“Is it really that horrid?”

“Yes,” both girls said in unison.

“Well… I suppose that I should purchase some new garments when your father pays me.”

“Oh! Yes! We'll get daddy to give you an advance, and then we'll go shopping tomorrow! You have about the same shading as Elaina, though Elaina's complexion is a tad darker… but that doesn't matter over much. I bet you would look wonderful in soft pinks and browns. No more of that… whatever color that is you're wearing,” Rene was quite beside herself.

“No, don't argue with us,” commanded Elaina. “Just go tell father that you need an advance for appropriate clothes. While we were in town, before we came here, I heard that there is to be a ball at some neighboring estate. Father told us we could attend if we had a companion by then. And since you are the appointed she, you will obviously need something more suitable than that. He will understand. Truthfully, he is a push over when it comes to big brown eyes. A trait, thankfully, we all share. They are a blessing, don't you agree?”

Elizabeth laughed at how her ward's voice had sailed from business to playful so smoothly, and Rene shook her head in disagreement.

“I hate brown eyes myself. So boring! So plain. Now, green eyes are what is fashionable. What man wants to look lovingly down into pools the color of dirt?!”

“Rene! You are so disagreeable! You have gorgeous eyes. They're not even brown! They are black! It is unexplainable how you can make that statement with a straight face, and speaking in all honesty!”

“You're just upset because you have brown eyes too, and have to say such things to make yourself feel better about their color. You know you prefer green! It is a universal preference!”

Sighing, Elizabeth picked up her bonnet and walked away from the stone circle, two fiery, bickering girls trailing behind her.

Later that night, two dark heads popped into the solitude of Darcy's study through a small crack in the door. Both smiled impishly. “We're going shopping tomorrow,” said the one of jet black eyes and brownish auburn hair. The other girl's grin, impossibly, widened. The roguish smile once again adorned Darcy's lips.

Chapter 9

Posted on Tuesday, 21 December 2004

They decided to walk into town, though Mr. Darcy's rather elegant carriage was offered. Actually, Mr. Darcy thought the girls had used the carriage. Elizabeth, knowing that her fiancé would insist, accepted the offer, then purposefully walked of without the carriage, the two young excited girls in tow. She supposed it was wrong to think of them as young when the eldest was almost her age. But she could not help herself, though each was exceedingly different from the other, they shared the same child-like charm and innocence of youths in new bloom. Which, she supposed, was what Rene in fact was. Her charges were a mystery, and Elizabeth felt that an amiable stroll would be more conducive to answering probing questions than a formal carriage ride would be. The free air seemed to make people more free with each other, and Elizabeth tended to take full advantage of it.

"I have a question for the both of you. And if you answer it, i shall answer a question of your own. Remember, i told you my story yesterday. Now I wish to hear yours." The two dark haired girls exchanged glances.

"What is it you wish to know?" asked Elaina.

Elizabeth picked her words carefully. "I am curious about your mother. I realize that it might be a sore subject between you two, but... is she still alive?"

Rene answered first. "Yes, she is still alive. She lives with our stepfather in Boston.

"So then... your father and mother are divorced?"

"Yes," spoke Elaina. "And a blessing too. From what I have seen, they were not meant for each other at all."

"Only because father was cruel!" exclaimed Rene. "Only because he was controlling and smothered her!"

Elaina responded in a much calmer tone than the one used by her impassioned sister. "Rene, there were reasons for his actions. As you well know." She now addressed Elizabeth. "After I was born, my mother threw me off onto a maid she had hired to nurse me without father's permission. She soon took up her favored pastimes: drinking, smoking, gambling. My father had once enjoyed these very diversions. Their shared interest in these debaucheries was part of their attraction to one another. But as soon as he found out he was to have a child, he dropped everything except for those things which would provide respectfully for his family. He had assumed my mother would too, and that she would nurse me herself, that she would be a diligent mother. Oh, she loved me, but she loved her drinking and gambling more. She was young and beautiful, though so was father, and she desired only to flirt with those more young, more extravagant than herself. My father insisted she stay home and be a proper mother to her newborn daughter. But she wouldn't. He despaired himself of her ever changing, and her faults pained him because of his love for her. When he found out she was pregnant with Rene, he thought that this would finally be thing that made her settle down. But he was wrong. After he realized this, he tried to impose restrictions on her, forbid her certain things. But it only angered her. She left when Rene was but two months old, taking me and traveling to the America's in the arms of a wealthy soldier named Vincent Hazzel. She left no track for my father to follow, as far as I know, she left not even a note. But he did track us down, five years ago. He willingly gave my mother a divorce so that she could marry Vincent, though living in sin with my now stepfather did not bother her a bit." With a scowl, she seemed to have stopped her tale. But sudden joy seemed to light her face, and she spoke once more, this time more briefly. "But... once in America, father met Rachell. And was able to marry her once the divorce was final. They immediately had Hinton. So it has all turned out happily ever after I suppose."

Elizabeth thought it strange that the young girl should use such a phrase to describe that situation when it was normally used to describe one finding one's prince charming. But she abandoned this line of thought for the more pressing matter of the silent and enraged younger sister. Rene did not speak, and indeed, no one did for quite sometime. It was Elizabeth who finally broke the silence. "I... I am sorry for the trials you girls have endured. But... I am happy to know that a little happiness has come into your lives in the form of your stepmother and brother." She said this, hoping that Rene also approved of her father's additions to their family. "Do you mind if i ask still another question?"

"You may," stated Elaina, "after you have answered a question of our own. Rene, do you have a question you are particularly curious about?" Elizabeth supposed it was a sort of peace offering, and she was glad to note that it worked. Rene's face calmed slightly as she became evermore thoughtful.

"What do you love most about Mr. Darcy? Besides his gorgeous face and wonderful rear end."

"Rene!" admonished Elaina, turning a shocked glance toward her sister and a burning blush to Elizabeth. Rene simply smiled mischievously, waiting for an answer.

Elizabeth herself laughed. "Rene, you should not say such things," she reprimanded, though mentally agreeing with the young girl on both assertions of Darcy's "gorgeous face" and "fine rear end." "I suppose what I love most about Mr. Darcy is... well... him. He would not be my Mr. Darcy if he were not the combination of all the traits that make him up. He is not one single thing to me, he is all of his characteristics combined. He is utter truthfulness. Even if he tried to lie to me, his eyes would betray him. But he has never tried. He is nobility. Though I thought him horrible when i first met him, i find him wonderfully noble now. The best of gentlemen. He is intelligent and loving and loyal. I... I suppose what i love the most about him is that... is that he loves me, and he does so diligently and perseveringly. Even when I've been an ignorant and silly little fool, he still loves me. It shows bad judgment on his part, I know, but it is something I am more than willing to forgive and overlook." She finished with a whimsical, longing smile, suddenly wishing she were far from this dirt road and these two girls and quite scandalously closeted with her future husband. Perhaps if she had let him throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to his boat and Antarctica, or Australia, or Africa.

She heard beside her two identical sighs. Turning to the two girls she told them, "One day, you will both find a man like my Mr. Darcy. It is inevitable. You are both brilliantly beautiful you know." Rene colored and murmured a thank you while Elaina rolled her eyes and stared at the ground. When she finally lifted them, they were cold and blank, staring cooling down the path the three girls traveled. They soon forgot their questions as the town and dress shop drew near. Though Elizabeth stored away Elaina's look and reaction in the back of her mind, determined to talk to the girl who Elizabeth felt could become a fast friend.

Mr. Jones rode through town later that afternoon. Rene had soon lost interest in shopping, and in truth, so had Elaina. Neither had ever been the sort of girls whose sole delight laid in clothes. And in truth neither was Elizabeth, but she felt she had to rid herself of the last remnant of Mr. Collins. So she was grateful when a obviously tired Elaina declined Mr. Jones' offer to have tea in a shop across the street before heading back to the manner. Rene did except her father's offer, leaving the two older women alone to shop and walk home later. And the two girls felt comfortable with this.

They walked home an hour later, having purchased two serviceable cream colored gowns for her role as governess, and one other. Elizabeth was secretly glad that Elaina had convinced her into this last purchase, for though it was miles about the simple attire befitting a governess; it was something she knew Darcy would appreciate seeing her in.

But Elizabeth had to leave these thoughts. Instead, she focused on the girl walking beside her. "Elaina, this may seem an impertinent question, and you do not have to answer it by any means, but... why are you not married? You are twenty, yes? I would assume..." she trailed off.

"No, I do not mind answering you. Not at all actually. I am not ashamed of being unmarried. I see no reason to be so. Did you? Before you married Mr. Darcy?"

"No, not at all! I would have remained so until I found a man worthy to love. I guess I'm lucky to have found him now."

"Very lucky indeed," said Elaina morosely. "I will answer you question," she said with a sigh, "though the answer is a story."

"I like stories, as do you. And we have a lot of time to waste. So please, tell me."

Elaina seemed to be thinking quite intently as they walked on for the next several minutes. Then she began. "There was a man. A boy really, at the time. I met him when i was fourteen. You see, we were far from rich in America. We lived in the city with my mother losing job after job for seamstresses and households. I began to work as soon as i was old enough. I worked in the house of a writer once, Mr. Alexander Nell. He quickly picked up on my love of books, my interest in writing. He took me along as a pupil, refusing to let me pay for his services. I loved him, but he was not the man, the boy. The boy was another pupil of his. And for the longest time, I would not even acknowledge Jon's presence. I had to focus solely on my art you see. But, when I was fifteen, I found one of his stories lying around, read it, and fell in love with it. It was witty and sweet, and inspiring. And I told him so. They say flattering is the best way to anyone's heart. Well, after that, we became fast friends. We talked all the time, and read each other's works, helping where we could. We had so much in common, from what we wanted in life, to the same sense of humor.

"I fell in love with him. But I was too shy. I knew he would never see me as anything other than a friend. I began to care about my looks, always wearing my best dresses around him, and fixing my hair in a particular way that he had said looked nice on me. I see my actions as childish and silly now.

"When we were seventeen, three years ago, we entered short stories in a contest without telling Alex. Jon won and i did not. In fact, they sent my submission back to me, claiming that this was a contest for those who could truly dedicate themselves to their art. A woman could not. Jon was offered the chance to travel to England and study at Oxford. It was a chance he could not and indeed should not have passed up. He left. I stayed with Alex and my family. Comforted only by the fact that I had my beloved father back. And that hopefully he would one day take me away from my mother and the life she led. Which he did." Here, Elaina's tale ended. She stared listlessly off into the distance.

"Did you never hear from Jon again?" asked Elizabeth.

"Once. He wrote. He told me that he had been in a terrible accident. That the horse pulling his carriage had been spooked for some reason and bolted into a run. It turned a sharp corner, throwing the carriage against a tree and him along with it. When he wrote, he lay in a hospital bed. He had lost his memory for a week, and when it came back, the first thing he asked for was a pen and paper to write to me. Or so he said. Men are quite capable of lying you know."

"Everyone is capable of lying Elaina."

She refused to meet Elizabeth's eyes. "Do you still love him? Even after all these years?"

She refused to answer Elizabeth's question. "If Mr. Darcy were to disappear for three years, would all those qualities that you say make him the man you love simply disappear? Would you still love him three years later?"

It was a fair question to be sure. It deserved a fair answer. "Yes, I would still love Darcy. How could I not?"

"Then you understand now? Rene does not understand. She thinks me a fool for hanging onto him for so long. And I think myself a fool now and then too. He did not even love me back."

They spent the rest of the walk back in utter silence.

Chapter 10

Posted on Tuesday, 21 December 2004

Elizabeth's third day as governess was much more boring and much less revealing than her second day. She spent the morning teaching little Hinton of the crystal blue eyes and dashing smile to read, then spent the afternoon in music and dancing lessons with Elaina and Rene. It seemed that they had lacked the proper education for ladies of their station while growing up in America. True, they had a hardiness, independence, and courage that only an American woman could exude, but they simply lacked the obvious refinements. Neither could needlepoint, neither were versed in the polite topics of conversation, neither danced at all, and neither knew proper table etiquette. They were bright, intelligent, spirited young women, but would be found completely lacking when facing Caroline Bingley and those of her ilk. Elizabeth did not want the girls to be hurt. Or rather, as it was more likely, for anyone insulting the girls to be punched, by the girls or their protective and adoring father. Elizabeth had her work cut out for her.

She would not stop helping them once she married Mr. Darcy. This she had firmly decided. The elder girl intrigued her as only someone who is deep, and mysterious and inexplicably lonely can. And the younger one reminded her of her own younger sisters, only different. This one acted silly for a reason, and Elizabeth had no idea why. Why would a girl, so obviously talented, go to such great lengths to cover it?

The first ten minutes at the piano that afternoon had gone wonderful, Rene picking up the art geniously. But after several praises from Elizabeth, Elaina, and even Mr. Jones who had idly strolled by the room, Rene started purposefully missing keys, feigning ignorance, asserting: "I shall quit! I am no good at it anyway." She did not try at all the rest of the lesson, and Elizabeth was glad when Hinton came running into the music room proclaiming that he needed his Miss Bennet to help him paint a picture.

Then she had helped him climb a tree, and then watched him run races with a neighbor boy, and listened to his plans to build a boat before she drug the reluctant boy back to the house for dinner. He was a charming child, all smiles, sparkling eyes, and rampant energy.

Mr. Darcy was not at dinner. Matter of fact, Elizabeth had not seen her fiancé since her first day as governess and his future wife, when after lunch he passed her fleetingly in the hallway on her way to the girls' rooms. He had given her the most heart melting smile and his hand had briefly brushed against her own...

Where was he? She wanted to see him, to talk to him. She hadn't had a good conversation with him since they had dispelled all of their misunderstandings. That conversation had led to other pastimes that required the use of the lips for quite different services. And, though she supposed it was not at all proper or decorous (as if any of her actions since her horrid wedding day to Collins had been, and perhaps because of this), she felt she had a right as Darcy's intended, to these sort of attentions. Yes, her undeniable right was being abused, and the one who had bestowed it upon her was abusing it.

She walked to her room with these thoughts dominating her mind. She had told Rene and Elaina that she would read alone in her bedroom tonight instead of keeping company with them in the sitting room that connected their two bedrooms. They had of course assented, knowing they could argue all they wanted without bugging anyone else if she did this. But when Elizabeth reached her room, she could not concentrate on her book, or writing the very complicated letter to her siste that she had been planning out over the last two nights. So she walked around the room. She knew what was making her restless. She missed Mr. Darcy.

Stopping in front of her bureau, she opened the dark wooden doors and fingered the brown silk that hung temptingly inside. This dress had been her guilty pleasure the day before when shopping. She could just picture herself in it, and in Darcy's eyes. It was a rich color that accented the glossy lighter colors of brown that played throughout the darker shades of her hair. The square neck was trimmed with a soft satiny pink, as were the short slightly puffed sleeves, the waist, and the hem. It was very simple, but oh so elegant, and Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to try it on. So try it on she did.

Elaina had been right, she thought as she surveyed herself in the full length mirror. It was wonderful.

A piercing shriek ripped through the quiet of the settling house. It was a child's scream, a scream that was punctuated by heart rending sobs. Elizabeth flew from her room, following the sound of the screams, running into Elaina and Rene on the way downstairs. They were the first to reach the scene. At the foot of the master staircase leading from the entry way of the house, laid a small screaming mass of rumpled clothing, tears, and blood. All three girls rushed down to little Hinton crying his name. Just as they reached the boy, Mr. Jones and Mr. Darcy came flying from opposite corners of the house toward the small boy who could not be quieted and the trio of harried women. Mr. Jones swept them all aside and examined the boy who never missed a beat in his screams. By this time, the entire household had been wakened and a circle of servants crowded round the distressed group. The bleeding was coming from an arm that hung limply to the laying boy's side, forced into a peculiar and impossible position.

"Someone bring me a hard flat surface. A board, a serving tray, anything!" commanded Mr. Jones in a calm yet terrified voice. Several of the servants dashed off to find something that would fit the older man's request. "Hinton my boy," said the father calmly, "you must calm down. I know it hurts, I know my poor boy, but you will be alright. Please Hinton, can you tell me what happened? I have to know so that I can tell the doctor when he arrives, and he can fix you." At that, one of the servants ran into the room, announcing loudly that one of the younger male servants left on horse as soon as he saw what had happened, and was on his way to the nearest doctor.

Hinton calmed down with some effort, and between gasps for breath and small, heart wrenching sobs, squeaked out sparingly few words to the small group huddled over his reclining form. "I thought... fun. Didn't mean to. Staircase... a good shiny rail. But I went too fast."

A servant appeared with a small flat silver tray. Mr. Jones slid the flat surface under the boy's arm and kept a stony face as his son yelled in pain. "Fitzwilliam," said Mr. Jones, "I need you to lift the tray at the exact same time I lift Hinton. His arm is obviously broke, through the skin I think. We can not risk overly moving his arm and causing more damage. We need some place downstairs to put him." The two men coordinated their movements to provide as little pain as possible to the boy and the three girls flew off to gather warm water, clean linens, and good stout alcohol to dull the pain. Though Elizabeth was wary about giving spirits to one so young, she knew of nothing else to alleviate the boy's obvious pain.

While she hurried to find the room the men had lodged the boy in, she couldn't help but consider Mr. Jones' words. Through the skin. She shivered. She hoped it wasn't so.

No one got to bed till late that night. The doctor had come and went and still no one could sleep. Mr. Jones sat watch in the most comfortable chair Mr. Darcy could produce, never closing a protective eye on the pale yet sleeping countenance of his injured son. Rene lay awake in dread, Elaina in contemplative silence.

Elizabeth was simply not tired. She paced her room back and forth, knowing she would never succumb to slumber's allure. And, she was sure, neither would Darcy. She went in search of him.

It did not take her long to locate him. He too was pacing the lushly carpeted floor of his study. She spied him through a crack in the door, and silently pushed the crack wider, watching her affianced. His hair was a tumbled mess and his cravat was completely undone, as was his vest, which hung open quite haphazardly. A corner of his shirt had come untucked and he had never thought to right it. His eyes were dark and troubled... and tired.

He stopped his pacing and faced the silent figure in his doorway. At the mere sight of her, his weariness seemed to melt away. His eyes lightened and his shoulders straightened. He was content to simply stare at her. And it was quite surprising when she flew across the few feet that separated them and flung herself into his arms. "He will be okay, won't he?" she mumbled into Darcy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I could not stay when the doctor arrived. I did not wish to see... to see..."

"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I understand. I would not wish you to witness such a thing. The poor lad." Reluctantly yet purposefully, Darcy pushed Elizabeth from the circle of his arms and led her to a coach by the fireplace. A roaring fire cast shadows on their faces. "He is a hearty boy. And though the bone coming through the skin did much damage..." Darcy stopped here, noticing the shudder that passed over Elizabeth's features as he had said these last words. But she dogged him on.

"Please, tell me what happened. What the doctor said. I wish to know everything."

"Of course. Though the bone coming through the skin caused much damage, no muscles, miraculously, were torn. The doctor replaced the bone and sewed up the wound. Hinton sleeps, and we will know by morning if fever has set in. The doctor is staying here tonight, in case any emergency care is needed. It is a shame he lives so far. But he has agreed to stay on until we need him as he has an apprentice keeping watch over his clinic in the village." He reached over and smoothed an escaped curl back behind Elizabeth's ear. "The boy will live. His arm will pain him much, and it may never be the same again, but he will not be handicapped by it. The doctor says so, and I believe it to be true. And so must you... why are you not asleep Elizabeth, it is late."

"Why are you not asleep good sir?"

"Of course. But could you not attempt to rest?" asked Darcy almost pleadingly.

"Could you not attempt sir?" admonished Elizabeth half teasingly, half seriously. "I will strike a bargain with you, since you are so fond of them. If you retire for the evening, at least attempting to lay in bed and close your eyes, then so shall I. Deal?"

Darcy appeared to seriously weigh her proposal. "Deal. I must first finish up some things in here."

"Then how do I know you will honor your word Mr. Darcy?"

"If you do not trust me my lady, then you may stay upon that coach until I am through with my business. Does that suit you?"

Elizabeth weighed this proposal as seriously as Darcy had appeared to weigh her own. "Yes, yes it does suit me. Conclude you business then, good sir." Something strangely akin to disappointment flitted strangely across Darcy's eyes before the left the coach for what awaited him at his desk.

Elizabeth pondered the disappointment she had seen in his eyes upon her pronouncement to stay. Did he not want her here? The question was so prominent in her mind that she didn't even get to watch him and teasingly distract him as she had planned on doing. And before she knew it, he rose from his desk and walked to the door, stopping only in its door frame to call her name. Distractedly, she stood and walked to his side. Halfway to her room, she had solved the riddle... she hoped.

"William, I do trust you," she spoke, halting their steps and staring up into his somber face. I only wished to stay to be near you longer, to watch you. I did not stay because I do not trust you. Surely you realize this."

"Surely I don't dear lady. You have not trusted me before, and you did not like me very well before I absconded with you. It pains me to say that I have reason to doubt."

"And it pains me to hear you say such things." Darcy could see that she truly was hurt. But, he remarked mentally as he watched her frown turn into a brilliant beaming smile, she was quite resilient. "But know that from now on it is so! I do trust you! And do not give me a reason not too! Or I'll take you to your very own pirate ship and have you walk the plank!"

Darcy laughed a rich deep melodious laugh, and pulled Elizabeth into his side as he continued their walk to her room. Elizabeth joined her lilting laugh to his, matching her steps to his stride by stride. They reached her door in perfect harmony.

"Good night Mr. Darcy," said she softly.

"What happened to William?" asked he even softer.

She gave him a bewitching smile and stepped away from him, turning the door knob and stepping part way into the room.

"Wait! Elizabeth, where did you get that gown?"

Elizabeth had forgotten that she wore the brown silk, that she had rushed from the room at Hinton's scream with the garment still on her person. She blushed, and instead of staring at her toes, chose to challenge him with her eyes. Let him tease her for her purchase! Let him see the dress! Hadn't she bought it with him in mind?

"It is, Elizabeth, a dress not quite befitting the station of governess. It is much more fine and elegant than that plain, yet fitting cream gown you wore today. Tell me, why would a governess purchase such a luxury, and why would she put it on late in the evening?" Darcy challenged her right back. He knew, or hoped he knew, exactly why she had bought the dress. He simply wanted to hear her say it.

"It is not befitting the station of a governess, but William," she emphasized the use of his familiar name, "it is befitting the station of your wife. I am not sorry I bought it sir. It is beautiful, and I love it. And... and I had thought you might approve as well." Elizabeth's assurance wavered slightly at the end.

"I very much approve Elizabeth. Very much indeed. You are breathtaking in it."

Elizabeth smiled satisfactorily at him, while Darcy's gaze remained somewhat far off, heavy.

"I'm afraid it is rather wrinkled after..." a yawn broke through her speech. "after tonight's ordeal." She shielded another yawn with the back of her hand.

Bending down and brushing a gentle kiss across first her forehead, then her fluttering eyelids, then at last her lips, he lowly murmured goodnight, hovering inches from her face, then turned and left.

The cold air rushed at Elizabeth's face as she realized her William no longer stood so close, that his kisses were gone. She opened her eyes abruptly and frowned, stifling yet another yawn. She closed the door pondering Darcy's abrupt disappearance, and gently lingering her fingers on the tingling spot his lips had left on hers.

Chapter 11

Posted on Wednesday, 22 December 2004

It had been two weeks since Darcy had sent his pir- his ship out to find Mrs. Jones and bring her back to her waiting husband, irascible stepdaughters, and ailing son. If ever there was a family in need of a maternal head figure, it was this one.

Darcy was also growing impatient for Mrs. Jones to arrive. He had counted on waiting to marry his Elizabeth but a week! And now his planned time had doubled and his patience had been cut in half. He should've went to find Mrs. Jones himself. But suppose Elizabeth ran off again while he was away. No, the duty of finding and absconding with Mrs. Rachel Jones had to be hefted upon the capable shoulders of his ship's captain. He had other more serious matters to attend to.

Darcy frowned. An unusual calm had descended upon his house. He had figured it would be just the opposite tonight. For a ball was to be held at a neighboring estate tonight, and both daughters were being allowed to attend, along with their governess of course. Darcy had expected his house to reverberate with the arguments of the two sisters over clothes and jewelry, and with his Elizabeth's admonitions that the two girls should not fight so.

But there was nothing. Something was not right, Darcy was sure of it. Gathering all his courage, and reminding himself that he was indeed a self proclaimed pirate and therefore should not fear two mere slips of girls, he made his way from his study, up the stairs and towards the series of rooms he had allocated for the sisters to share.

He put an ear up against the door, listening for some sign of life. He heard nothing. Lightly, he tapped on the door before turning the handle and entering.

Three dark haired women stood staring each other down, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. Sparks flew.

Oh God, thought Darcy, surely even the devil himself would run in fear from this harrowing scene. But I will not! “Eli- Miss. Bennett,” he corrected himself, remembering that they were in the company of two others. “Miss. Bennett, is there a problem here?”

“No problem Mr. Darcy, simply a clash of wills,” answered Elizabeth, without taking her gaze away from young Rene. A clash of wills, Darcy realized, could indeed be a problem when the wills were as strong and stubborn as these three surely were.

“May I be of some assistance?” he offered.

Rene's eyes lit up and she threw herself toward Mr. Darcy. Grabbing his arm tightly with her slender fingers, she looked up at him pleadingly. “Oh Mr. Darcy! Yes please do help me. Father just sent a note from town saying that he would not be back tonight in time for the ball!”

“But,” Darcy interrupted, “your father is not going to the ball, Miss. Jones.”

“Exactly! He was to stay here and watch after Hinton, and now he can't! And Miss. Bennett and Elaina are insisting I stay here to watch our brother. But it isn't fair! Tell them it isn't fair Mr. Darcy, you must!”

Darcy looked toward his fiancé, “Miss. Bennett, I'm sure there's a reason for having the younger Miss. Jones stay here, I can see several of my own. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me with some of yours?” Rene gasped and let go of Darcy's arm as if it had suddenly turned red hot and burned her.

“You will not help me!” She dramatically exclaimed. Yet it was not silly dramatics, Darcy could see. There was no flippancy in her looks, no, just cold fury over her self created injustice.

Elizabeth spoke. “She is but sixteen sir, and has yet to come out. Yes, her father was willing to let her come to this small ball tonight, but due to circumstances, it has become clear that she is the only choice to watch her brother. I cannot stay, for the girls cannot go without some sort of chaperone, even if it is only Elaina going. And Elaina must go sir. I simply insist on it. She is the eldest daughter after all."

And has more propriety and grace than her sister, thought Darcy. He did not feel the youngest was ready for society yet. She did not show good judgment, and if she were Darcy's daughter, would not see the light of day until she did. It would be more of a danger to put the youngest most beautiful daughter amongst all the strapping Scottish lads. Yes, most dangerous. “I believe you are right Miss. Bennett. The younger Miss. Jones should shoulder the responsibility of looking after her brother,” spoke Darcy. Turning to Rene he admonished, “I have seen you interact little with your brother, this should be good for both of you.” With those words, he thought he had the whole situation under control.

“I WILL NOT STAY HOME!!! I WILL ATTEND THE BALL AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME!!!” The cold and determined look in Rene's eyes was enough to stop any words anyone had meant to contribute dead on their tongues. Elaina knew that look. She knew that frustrating and frustrated tone of voice. Her sister would not give in. With a sigh and a sinking heart, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I will stay. I've never had a love for balls or parties anyhow. And Rene obviously is delirious to go. I've no problem staying with Hinton. It will please me to spend time with him.”

Rene said nothing, but strode into her room with a triumphant smile, stopping in her doorway to finally speak, “I must dress for the ball.” She never even turned to face the others in the room, just silently shut the door behind her.

“Elaina,” said an exasperated Elizabeth, “You will not do this. You may not like balls, but this will be good for you. You cannot sit behind your paper and pen all your life. You can't live life through books and your own imagination.”

Darcy was quite confused and worried about Elizabeth's speech. What did she mean? What ailed his friend's poor daughter? He looked at her. She looked healthy enough. But he knew quite well that not all illnesses showed outwardly. Some were of the mind… some of the heart.

“Darcy,” complained Elizabeth, “surely you can command Rene to stay home tonight. Elaina must go. There was a pleading in her eyes as well as her voice, and Darcy knew he could deny her nothing. But what could he do about this matter? One girl was willing to stay home, the other was dying to go. Did it really matter all that much? He said as much aloud.

“Truly Elizabeth,” said Elaina, “I do not care. Someone needs to stay with Hinton, and it is better if it is someone who will not be despairing over her ill fate the entire time. I am fine with this arrangement.” She smiled a weak smile that never reached her eyes and told Elizabeth to prepare for the ball, shooing both her and the master of the house from her sitting room.

“Elizabeth,” questioned Darcy once they were outside in the hallway, “why is it so important for the young girl to attend the ball this evening? She will have several chances once Roger and his wife take the children to London next year.”

Elizabeth frowned at his words and turned to walk towards the staircase that led to the next floor and her room. Inviting her to follow by talking to him over his shoulder. “Do you remember when I came to your study the day after our shopping venture?”

“Yes,” answered Darcy as he came up beside her, matching his steps to hers. “Is this about the young man you told me about? Did you actually contact him?”

She stopped her steps and turned up to him with a dazzling smile. “Yes Mr. Darcy, I did. And he is to arrive tonight… and to attend the ball.” He smiled at her obvious delight in the matter. “Although… I'd hoped that Mrs. Jones would be here by now. A governess cannot very well employ a copyist.” Her brows knit together at this unexpected complication.

“A copyist? I thought you said the lad was a great author.”

“Well, he wrote me, and it turns out that his career has not taken off like everyone thought it would. He has been working as a copyist for money, and then writing his novels on the side. I do not know what I shall do about him.”

“Besides play a bit of match making with him I suppose.”

She blushed. “Yes… besides that. But Mr. Darcy, there really is not match making to do here. She already loves him. I'm just putting them in the same place at the same time. There is nothing wrong in that is there?” Darcy did not answer, only laughed. They had reached her bedroom door and Darcy dropped a tiny, warm kiss on her forehead.

“Do not worry Elizabeth, we shall figure something out for your little scheme.” He started to leave, but turned on his heal to face her once more. “Elizabeth,” he asked, his brow furrowing, “what if the young man is not in a position to be part of any matchmaking scheme? What if he is already married, or engaged?”

“He is not. I made sure,” she answered matter of factly.

“Elizabeth! Surely you did not just right out ask the man!”

“No sir I did not! And I'm offended you have so little belief in my intelligence. I told him that I was looking for an unattached individual who would be able to uproot his life to start anew in a different country. I said that I had been told that he was a delightful young man who had fallen on hard times, and that I should write to ask for his services. He wrote back that he had no obligations whatsoever and that he would be on his way when I received his letter.”

“Why did you not involve me more in this little scheme of yours? I'm the pirate here, I have more experience in getting my way.”

“Your pirating career is quite new my Dread Pirate Darcy, and though you've started with quite a bang, I'm afraid you're still quite the amateur.” She smiled up at him playfully, while he dropped one final kiss, this time upon her nose.

He turned to walk away, but swung back to her, a question in his eyes. “Miss. Bennett, may I have the honor of dancing the first dance with you tonight?”

Smiling prettily before closing her door behind her, she answered, “Yes Mr. Darcy, of course you may.”

A very handsome young man stood all alone against the back wall. He held in his hand a glass of wine and kept on his face an amused expression. Rene found the very handsome man very handsome indeed. He was tall and tan with a foreign air about him with his dark eyes and hair. Was he Italian? Perhaps Spanish. Not full blood though. No, that was obvious. But quite frankly, she did not care. She turned her mind instead to matters of greater import: financial status. Though she was but sixteen, she knew the importance of a man with money and status. He was dressed plainly, that was true, but cleanly and in colors that suited him.

Rene made her way through the crowd toward the stranger at the back of the room. She had to reach him before the dance ended and Elizabeth and Mr.Darcy finished Dancing. It was the only dance Elizabeth would dance all night, deciding it was best to stay by her young ward. She had only agreed to the one dance because of Rene's promise to stay put. Rene only kept her promises, however, if it suited her. She snuck a glance over her shoulder and spied the couple smiling at each other: Elizabeth shyly and Mr. Darcy quite brazenly. Rolling her eyes, Rene turned her attention back to the very handsome man. She was but a few feet from him now.

She knew it was not proper to introduce herself. She needed an introduction from someone she knew who knew him also. “Hello,” she said, fluttering her fan in front of her face.

“Hello…” spoke the man awkwardly. Then, because he had never been in such a situation before, “And you are?”

She laughed a tiny, flirtatious laugh. “I am Rene Jones. And you?”

The man's eyes opened wide for a moment, and his jaw went slack, forming a slight O. He shut his mouth quickly and controlled the width of his eyes. “Miss. Jones,” he said, showing he had no intention of breaking decorum and addressing her as simply Rene. She frowned at this, but he continued. “I am Mr. Richards.” His voice was gruff, disapproving.

“Mr. Richards… I noticed you standing alone. Do you know anyone here?”

“Actually, Miss. Jones, I am here to meet someone. A Miss Bennet. Do you know her by any chance?” he inquired. But before she could answer, a man's voice spoke from over her shoulder. Recognizing the deep tone, Rene groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward.

The voice from right behind her said, “Miss. Jones, you seem to have strayed from the table we left you beside. Pray tell me young miss, did you lose your way?”

Rene turned around and looked up into the very angry eyes of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth's arm rested within the crook of his, and her eyes held as much disappointment as did Darcy's. “Miss. Bennett, you shall be glad I lost my way. I've run into someone who claims that he is here specifically to meet you. Miss. Bennett, Mr. Darcy, this is Mr. Richards. Mr. Richards, may I introduce Mr. Darcy and his fiancé, Miss. Bennett. My family and I are staying with Mr. Darcy at his estate. It's but half a mile from this one,” she haughtily stated. Then added, as a mischievous afterthought, “Miss. Bennett is also residing there, as my and my siblings' governess.”

Elizabeth took control of the conversation away from the young girl. “It is so good to finally meet you Mr. Richards. I was excited to get your letter. I had intended to interview you tonight, to explain to you my plans… but, it seems that plans have changed. You see, I had fully believed I would be married by now, and in a better situation to employ you,” she said this with a laugh and a smile, turning to her fiancé as he prepared to speak.

“Yes, plans have not quite gone as expected Mr. Richards. It is to me that you will be seeking employment now. It seems I'm in dire need of a secretary's assistance, and the job is yours if it is one that you can perform suitably. I understand it is not the profession to which you are aspiring, but I do not feel there will be any problems with you working personally on the side,” Darcy offered.

Mr. Richard's face broke into a sincere grin. He thoroughly liked these two. Though the man did not smile unless smiled upon by the woman on his arm, the woman was all warmth. “Yes! The job would be quite suitable indeed. If I may ask Mr. Darcy, when can I begin?”

“Tomorrow,” spoke Darcy, “I find I will require your services first thing tomorrow. Bring your things with you. There is plenty of room at my estate. Matter of fact, you will have a whole wing of the house to yourself. Though,” he added as a sort of statement to himself than to anyone else, “I am quickly running out of wings to allocate to people."

Elizabeth tried valiantly to contain her mirth at her fiancé's apparent consternation, and succeeded in only producing a sparkling smile. “Rene,” she said to the young girl who was clearly trying to figure out whether she was upset that she had been excluded from the conversation, or thrilled that the handsome Mr. Richards would be in the same house as her. “I believe you've seen enough for tonight. I'm sure it's all been quite exciting, and I believe I am ready to return to the house.”

“Miss Bennett! We just got here! You cannot mean to make me leave!”

“I do indeed intend to make you leave Rene,” she said before turning to Mr. Richards. “I am sorry we must take our leave of you, and I hope you have not been offended by any forward manners…” Rene gasped at Elizabeth's words.

“I—'' but she was cut off.

“No harm was done Miss Bennet. It was lovely to meet you, and you Miss. Jones. Mr. Darcy,” he bowed to the esteemed personage and then watched as they left the ballroom.

“Mr. Darcy…” Mr. Richardson asked of his new employer, looking up from the desk he was sitting at. “May I ask a question that you might find… personal in content?”

Darcy looked up, his usual glower in place. “You may, but I reserve the right not to answer it.”

“Yes sir. Is all of Mr. Jones' family staying with you here?”

“Yes. All but the wife. She is yet to come,” Darcy grumbled gloomily under his breath. “But she will be here shortly,” he added with much determination. She'd better be, thought he, or I'll be forced to break my promise, and I do not break promises. Indeed, it was only the mantra breathed silently under his breath (I do not break promises) that kept him from sweeping up his bride to be and carrying her to the nearest preacher. He had let nothing stop him from sweeping her up before, and it took all his control not to do it now. It was funny; he had never lost control of his good sensibilities with anything but her.

“I think you should know sir,” Mr. Richards said, interrupting Darcy's thoughts, “that I am acquainted with the family. In truth, I've never met Mr. And Mrs. Jones, or the little boy. And I had only before heard of the younger Miss. Jones until last night. But… I know the elder Miss. Jones quite well. We were friends. I knew, last night, that Miss. Jones was Elaina's sister for I'd heard the name many times before, and they look so much alike that it is remarkable. I thought, sir, that it would be wise for you to know that I was already acquainted with the lady, since you are my employer. I hope that you do not think I have deceived you in any way.”

“Deceived? Of course not. How were you to know that your friend's family was staying with me. And really, what does it matter? Perhaps it will help to make you more comfortable here, help you to settle better.”

“Yes sir, indeed sir.”

“Mr. Richards…”

“Yes sir?”

“It is unnecessary to have more than one sir in any sentence. Indeed, I find that I do not require one. Darcy, will be sufficient. I like to keep on friendly terms with my employees.”

The young man smiled brightly, instantly warming to his employer. “Please, you must call me Richards then… or Jon. I find I prefer it when people use my first name. I'm no one of great import anyhow.”

“Jon, we are all of great import to at least one person in this world,” said Darcy, dispensing advice as if her were indeed a great sage. Jon Richards smiled once more as he looked back down at his work.

“Elaina, he is perhaps the finest figure of a man I have ever laid eyes on, besides Mr. Darcy of course. But we cannot hope to attain such perfection as that. He looks like some foreign heathen prince with his dark hair and eyes and skin. Swarthy is the word for him. And he is to stay here! In this house! With us!”

“Rene, he is here to work, I forbid you to interrupt him.”

“You would wouldn't you. And I suppose that if he looked your way, whispered in your ear, or offered you kisses, you would turn him away. You are immune to such frivolous things I suppose.”

“You suppose wrong dear sister. I am merely careful of who I would allow to bestow such attentions upon me, as you should be.”

“You are only young once dear sister, why not live it well?”

Elaina frowned but did not reply. She knew she would never win the battle with her stubborn sister. Rene had been too influenced by their mother. “What is his name Rene?” she asked her sister as a sort of peace offering, knowing that the younger girl would warm quickly to the subject of Mr. Darcy's new secretary.

“His name is Mr. Richards, and he used to be an author, or he's trying to be, or something like that. But he's fallen on hard times and has taken the position offered to him by Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Richards?” If Rene had been paying any attention to her sister at all, she would have noticed that her olive skin had drained of all color.

“Yes. I believe it was Elizabeth's idea to hire him. I deduced from the very brief conversation that it was she who first contacted him.”

“It was… Rene, did you happen to hear what his first name was?”

“No, he did not tell me his first name. He was trying to be proper. But I could tell he wanted to tell me. He was eyeing me up and down and obviously enjoying the site. I believe Elaina, that I might just have a beau before you do!”

Elaina did not answer her sister's callous remark, instead she dropped the book she had been reading and walked from the room without a word, Rene's confused gaze following her until the door shut.

Was it he? Was it the same Mr. Richards? Was it the man she knew better as Jon? It just could not be, but it was all there, the description, the career, and Elizabeth. The fact that Elizabeth was one of the only souls who knew about her insane and ongoing infatuation with the boy of her youth was the most damning evidence of all. It most assuredly could not be a coincidence.

She could kill her well-intentioned companion. She had not thought Elizabeth the kind to meddle so thoroughly in others' lives. Perhaps Mr. Darcy's controlling and pirate like side had rubbed off on the lady.

But then again… she felt like running up to Elizabeth and wrapping her arms around her in the biggest of hugs. It was confusing. She wanted nothing more than to sit and talk for hours on end with her old friend, as they used to do at their mentor's house, but at the same time, she was scared to death.

“Elaina,” said a strange voice from far off. She had been staring at her hands, and now she lifted her gaze out across the stair railing she stood at. Nothing. No one. “Elaina,” again. The voice came from down below. She turned the corner slightly and looked down the flight of stairs just below her. He was standing there smiling hesitantly up at her. When she smiled hesitantly and surprisingly back, his smile widened and consumed the whole of his face. Her's followed suit. She hurried down the steps, not too fast for she did not want him to think her too eager, and threw her arms around his neck, as he did to her.

“My dear friend, I did not think to ever see you again,” she exclaimed, pulling away from him.

“Nothing and no one can keep me from you,” he teased, a sparkle in his eye. That was the way with them. Other would have called it flirting. But truthfully, neither had a single concept of what flirting was, or how it was done. It was something that only came naturally when one was with the other, and they did not see it as flirting at all. Neither could give it a name either. It was simply the way they interacted.

“So, Mr. Richards, you are the all important secretary to the all important Mr. Darcy. How important you are,” she laughed.

“Yes, but I've this strange feeling that he does not really need me. He gives me the strangest things to do. For instance, at the moment I am on an errand to retrieve a list the daily upstairs chores from the head maid. She is to relate them to me while I write them down.”

“An important task indeed good sir.”

“Indeed. Would you come with me on my errand? We have much to catch up on. That is… if you are not busy.”

“I am never busy here Mr. Richards. I spend my days reading and writing and the most spinsterly of pastimes… crocheting.” She threw her head back and laughed as he did too, and joined him in his foray into the most exciting world of upstairs chores.

Chapter 12

Posted on Thursday, 6 January 2005

Mrs. Rachel Jones received her husband's letter with a scowl the third day after it had been sent. It was scrawled, hastily written, she deduced, and there was a tone that broached absolutely no argument in it. Her stubborn husband had often used such a tone with her, only to have her do as she pleased in the end. If it had not been for the fact that she loved him, they might not be married at all. He had refused to marry her. I am not in a place to take a wife, he had told her. He had at the time been in the process of gaining his daughter's love and protection, and divorcing the woman who had hid his daughters from him for so long.

But she had persisted, had stayed by his side all the while, being friend before wife. Indeed, she had known that she was the only woman who would put up with his temper and bullheadedness. She smiled as she remembered that once one could work past her husband's rough exterior, he was as gentle as a lamb, as giving as a saint. And he loved his wife.

It was now two weeks after the letter had been sent, and Mrs. Jones was growing weary of her arduous journey to reach her husband's side. She also grew weary of the unexpected passengers who had gained passage on Mr. Darcy's private ship. The lady called herself Miss. Caroline Bingley. The gentleman went by the name of Mr. Bennet. He often paced the ship from stern to bow, a ferocious scowl between his brows. He muttered while he paced, stormed actually, and Mrs. Jones would often watch him, wondering what had happened to so enrage the man. These musing came, of course, in between the curious imaginings as to what could have caused her husband to send his friend's ship to bring her to him from Bath.

The woman… Miss. Caroline Bingley… was not just amusing. No, she was altogether an annoyance. Her fits of seasickness, fright, and ravings had been what delayed their journey for over a week now. The captain had not known what he was getting into when a tall young lady acquainted him with her acquaintance with his master Mr. Darcy. “We are particularly close friends,” she related to him. As she had promised, she paid him well for board for her and her traveling companion, an aging gentleman who proved to be no relation to her whatsoever. Indeed, for all the respect she showed him, she knew him not at all except as a beggar from the street. Mrs. Jones contemplated this relationship as well. Why did they travel together? It did not make sense. Yet…nothing made sense since her husband's letter.

Staring out at the rolling gray ocean, trying valiantly to ignore the matching violent clouds that swirled overhead, a small smile graced her lips as a blonde lock of hair was torn from the bun at the nape of her neck. A small sliver of fog-enveloped land arose in the distance.

He paced in his study. It had been over two weeks, two weeks! And needless to say, Darcy was more than restless. His plan had somehow gone horribly wrong, and now not only was he kept from his Elizabeth longer than he had expected, but Mr. Jones grew more worried by the day that his wife had come to some sort of ill. If she had, Darcy would never be able to forgive himself. It seemed that Darcy's presence had not been good for his friend. First the young boy, who was growing stronger by the day, breaks his arm, and then his wife goes missing, and now the two older daughters seemed ready to kill each other.

That last one was really Elizabeth's fault. She had brought the young man, Mr. Richards, into the house. Well, he had… but it had been upon Elizabeth's request, and at the moment he had seen nothing wrong with it. Oh how he saw the action's follies now. The young Mr. Richards was a studious worker, a talented writer, and gentleman of wonderful manners. He was a total dunce at all other things however. For instance, the lad seemed never to notice the way two very different yet very alike young ladies stared at him.

Darcy plopped himself down into a chair and decided to quite quit thinking of the situation. It did not work, for the situation simply came to him.

“I cannot see that he shows any unusual interest in her Elizabeth. I do not see why you tell me to keep my distance. I have as much right to Mr. Richard's time and attention as does she!”

“The only one who has true right on the young man's time is Mr. Darcy. Mr. Richards is after all his employee. And you flirt shamelessly Rene. It is not becoming.”

The young girl did not seem to understand, or care for that matter. “Do you know that he looks her way more than he looks mine? Can you conceive such a notion? It is absurd. My mother always said that Elaina is the brain, and I am the beauty. Everyone knows that I am prettier than she.”

“Do not say such things Rene. Do you know how shallow you sound? Both you and your sister are both beautiful and smart. But have a regard for your sister's feelings. He is her friend from long ago. You know this. Do you not see how she feels for him?”

“Yes, I do,” Rene replied with a laugh, “But I do not see that he feels for her back. Oh, I grant you that there is affection, but it being stronger than usual is not very apparent. He cares for her as no more than a friend… I am quite sure.”

Darcy heard a single set of footsteps take off purposefully up the stairs. He dared not peek his head out from behind his study door. That was until he heard the loud sigh and the thump. Curiosity got the better of him. Opening the door a crack, he looked to the left of the doorframe. Elizabeth leaned against the wall, her eyes closed, her hand massaging the base of her neck.

“Is all alright Miss. Bennet?” spoke Darcy rather haltingly, using her last name in the likelihood that some servant should pass by. Elizabeth's eyes flew open and her hand flew to her chest as a small gasp escaped from between her lips.

“Oh! Mr. Darcy, it is you. You gave me a fright.”

“I am truly sorry. I… I overheard your conversation with the younger Miss. Jones. It seems she is proving a hindrance to your love schemes?”

Elizabeth frowned. “It is not a love scheme. I am simply helping a starving artist and a lonely young girl.”

“Yes, but if your ultimate intention includes marriage between those two, then I should have to categorize it as a love scheme.” He smiled at her, and might have taken her hand in his to graze a kiss upon her knuckles, had a short butler with a rather hawkish nose not interrupted them.

“Mr. Darcy, sir, I have just received a message from town. Your ship arrived at port last night. The man you had waiting set out on horseback as soon as it touched dock and arrived here only just now. Mrs. Jones is safe and ready to see her family sir, or so she told your man.”

Darcy's eyebrows shot up and he did his best to smother the grin that threatened to pop up uncharacteristically onto his lips. “Give the man a fresh horse and send him back to the village. Mrs. Jones is not to leave. We will meet her by this time tomorrow at the Green Hill Inn. She is invited to a wedding.” At this, he did smile, and he did take Elizabeth's hand in his own as the butler vanished down the hallway. “Elizabeth, can you be ready in two hours time? Wait, what time is it?”

“Noon, I believe, but aren't we being a bit hasty? What if Mrs. Jones has already set out for here?” asked Elizabeth somewhat hesitantly.

“She won't have. I told the captain my plans. He was to send word when they arrived so that I could prepare everyone to ride into town for the wedding.”

“Well you might have told me of the plan Mr. Darcy! I've known nothing but that I'll marry you when Mr. Jones' wife arrives,” replied Elizabeth with a somewhat indignant tone to her voice.

Darcy sensed that he might have done something wrong, but knew not what to say. Had she changed her mind then? Had something happened to make her feel less for him? Perhaps he had been mistaken in the first place? He stepped back into his office and beckoned Elizabeth to follow him. When she had passed through the doorway, he closed the door behind her and ushered her to a seat beside the fire.

She sat, and watched him pace for a while, wondering why that horrific scowl marred his face. She tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes, for he always opened his very soul to her there (indeed he could not shut her out there), but was unable to lock a single glance. She would wait for him.

After about five full laps of serious pacing, Darcy came to stand directly in front of her, his hands clasped business like behind his back. “Have your feelings changed? Do you no longer wish to marry me? Have you come to realize that you no longer love me?” He had held her eyes with his own fierce ones until this last question. Then he could do not but turn stiffly toward the fire, afraid of her answers.

He shouldn't be afraid, the silly man, thought Elizabeth. She might have burst out in laughter had his countenance and voice not appeared so serious. She wished to tease him mercilessly, but knew that he needed solid reassurance. To think that she had once thought this man had more confidence and pride than any had a right to! And here he was, his very breath hanging on what words might fall from her lips. Now the threatening laughter turned to outright joy. She was truly blessed.

“Mr. Darcy,” she started, standing from the chair and forcing his gaze onto her. “Do you think me that fickle? No, my feelings have not changed. And no matter how many times I become angry at you, or frustrated, or displeased, I will always love you.” She smiled warmly up at her soon to be husband and marveled that he was smiling back. It was one of those knee weakening, sense crushing, teeth baring smiles that made her long for one thing only: him. “Two hours you say William? I believe I can be ready in one.” She tossed a flirtatious grin back at him as she left the room. The door clicked quietly behind her and… she couldn't be sure… but she could have sworn she heard a “WHOOOOO HOOOOOO!” as she made her way down the sunlit hallway.

Three men escorted a large carriage along the well-shaped road in the middle of a dark quiet night. They were all tall and dark and handsome, though of varying ages, and had differing looks upon their faces, revealed only by the silver moonlight that bathed the scene.

The man closest to the carriage was the eldest of the three, with silver shots of gray through his short dark brown hair. He stayed close to the carriage and looked in on its occupants often, reprimanding one in a stern tone or laughing with another in a deep hearty guffaw. He had told them often to sleep, yet it seemed that sleep was something that none of the carriage's occupants could bring themselves to do.

One man, the youngest, walked close to the horses, talking to no one, and keeping a steady pace. He had a thoughtful look on his face. His eyes were distant, his brows pulled slightly together, and his mouth was set in a soft line.

The man who led this midnight excursion rode ahead of the rest, but not out of site of the carriage. There was an impatience in his eyes, an energy in his body that made it seem as if he could bolt his horse into a run at any moment. There was also determination. The man would every so often look back at the carriage, checking to see that all was in accordance with his wishes. When he did so this time, his gaze fell upon the youngest man traveling close to the horses pulling the carriage. He wondered what it was the young man was so intent in.

“Mr. Richards,” called out the rich and deep voice of Mr. Darcy. “Come ride with me.”

Mr. Richards broke his horse into a slight gallop, and matched his horses pace to his employer's when he pulled up beside him. “Is there something you need Mr. Darcy?”

“A conversation, actually.”

Mr. Richards was taken aback. Why would the great Mr. Darcy wish to speak like friends with his employee? He had noticed that the man was kind to his servants, but he had thought that he would keep a class-conscious distance as well. “Well, sir, I do not know what we would speak of. Anything you like of course.” Mr. Richards realized that he had said sir. He was not supposed to say sir to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy had asked him not to. He swallowed a lump of nervousness in his throat and hoped his employer would overlook his folly.

“I would like to know about you, Mr. Richards. What sort of things do you write about? What sort of life have you lived? What do you wish for the future? It is still a long ride that lies before us and I find I need the companionship of a male comrade of some sort. Indeed, I was to have my best friend stand up with me at my wedding, but now I find that my newly acquired spontaneity leaves me without him. And, if I should ask you to stand up with me, as Mr. Jones should probably give Miss. Bennet away, I find I should know something of you.”

Mr. Richards was somewhat dumbfounded to so suddenly be thrown onto such an intimate level with his employer. But why not? He was a personable man, and he found that Mr. Darcy was probably very friendly as well, a good man to have as a friend and mentor. “Yes, perhaps you should. But… I hardly know where to start.”

“Well, where are you from?” asked Darcy inquisitively.

“My father is Italian, and my mother is half English, half Sioux Indian. So, I'm a bit of a mix. But… I'm not poor sir, well, not if I took what my parents would have me take. My father is part of the aristocracy in Italy. And my mother's English hails from a very wealthy English line. And my Indian ancestors are the noblest of people.”

“You get a bit defensive about your background don't you?”

Mr. Richards blushed, but luckily, it was hid by the dark of night. “Yes. There are those in London, in Paris, who accept me for my exoticness, and then there are those who have shunned me, who have refused to read a word of my writing because of my ancestry.”

“Is that why you've fallen on hard times, why you've accepted a secretarial job in lieu of your passion?”

“Yes, that and something that happened to me a while back.” He waited for a comment from the man beside him, but all that me him was silence, an indicator that the boy should go on with his story. “I had fallen in good with a very beautiful, very rich patroness. She was married, and was looking for something more than a young writer to dote upon and sponsor. She wanted a lover. I couldn't do this, I wouldn't. I was raised very close to the Christian church, and at one time entertained ideas of the priesthood, but found as I grew older that I had a desire for a family, for the love of a good woman. I would not taint this desire of mine with something as impure and ignoble as an affaire.”

Darcy nodded agreement to the young man's statement. The boy had spirit, and fortitude, and good character, and Darcy heartily approved.

“She continued to sponsor my writing however,” continued Richards. “She thought of me as a challenge, as a young idealistic god who would one day be hers. I let her think this, though now I realize it was wrong of me, and continued to live on the money she provided me. But I was to pay for my folly. The horses that were pulling the cart I rode in one day were spooked by something in the busy London streets. They reared and rushed into a sprint. I was thrown from the cart and landed hard on the ground. I do not remember anything after that.” He finished in silence.

“Were you rendered unable to write after that? Physically? Mentally?” asked a now intrigued Darcy.

“No. Matter of fact, I wrote some of my best work after the accident. But my sponsor realized that I was mortal after all, that I was not a god. She could be bothered with nothing less, so she abandoned me. I am thankful for it now however, for I'd rather have more honest work. You, Mr. Darcy, have provided me that chance. And your kind fiancée. Though,” he added with a hint of confusion. “I'm not quite clear on how you can to find out about me. How was it you came to ask for my services? I do not wish to ask things that you do not wish to answer sir, but it has been a matter of confusion to me since I received Miss. Bennet's note.” Richards had his suspicions, his ideas as to what, or rather who might have brought notice to his name and person, but he wished verification, if he could get it.

Darcy was elated at the direction this conversation suddenly took, for it had been the direction he had intended all along. “Truthfully, since I have no reason to hide the truth, Miss. Bennet was informed of your situation by your friend, the elder Miss. Jones. The young girl did not know much about you, only that you had suffered an accident and had fallen on hard times. It was enough for Miss. Bennet. She has a giving nature,” and a tendency toward scheming, thought Darcy, “that leads her to do as much for her fellow man as possible… and woman.”

“So… it was Elaina…” Richards' voice tapered off into the night.

Darcy took his opening, hoping that the boy trusted him enough to give it to him. “Yes, Elaina… Mr. Richards, I have a question to ask you. It is of a rather personal nature, and I wish to let you know that you are not required to answer it. Had anyone asked me about Miss. Bennet when I first formed an affection for her, I would have scowled at them and uttered some lie. Matter of fact…” he said thoughtfully, “I believe I often did,” thinking of Caroline's hurtful jabs about Elizabeth's mother, and his own horrible insults to Elizabeth's beauty. Darcy did not give the younger man a chance to think, he simply charged ahead. “Mr. Richards, do you have any attentions towards Miss. Rene Jones?”

“Rene!? Rene? Rene?” he asked for the third time, as if unable to understand the simple name.

“Yes, Mr. Richards, Rene,” replied Darcy gruffly, trying to act in all seriousness with this delicate matter.

“Rene,” Mr. Richards was beginning to sound like a parrot thought Darcy. “No,” Richards almost laughed, “I've never thought of the younger Miss. Jones as… as… as anything really! She is too brazen for me, to colorful and loud. She is a beautiful and smart girl, she is witty and would be popular in the circles of high society I believe…but she is not for me. Why do you ask?”

“Are you blind man? She has followed you doggedly around the house since you have been there,” stated Darcy bluntly.

Mr. Richards blinked, then blinked again, as if assimilating this information for the first time. “Has she? I… I'm afraid my mind has been elsewhere,” he admitted with a blush, which was also blessedly covered by the night.

“On the elder Miss. Jones…” offered Darcy.

“What!” exclaimed Richards. Truly, this conversation with his employer was more revealing and deep than he had ever thought it would be. Why would Mr. Darcy bate him so? “Elaina… Elaina and I are just friends. We… we've always been so.”

“You do not say that with affirmation, or with happiness. You do not sound content.”

“These are my personal matters sir, and I am not obligated to reveal them to you.”

“No, no you are not. But I might have some advice for you.”

Richards could not help his curiosity. “And that is?”

“Women are never as they appear. Either they are hiding something because they are afraid of you, or they are hiding something because they are afraid of society, or you're just a complete idiot and read them all wrong!” Darcy chuckled, remembering when Elizabeth had told him that she hated him. And after he had kidnapped her from her wedding no less. He had pictured her looking adoringly into his eyes and thanking him with loving kisses, and had received harsh words and plans concerning governesses. He chuckled again, causing Mr. Richards to look on silently, perplexed, waiting for more words of wisdom from his employer.

“I thought Miss Bennet in love with me when I first… proposed to her,” spoke Darcy in confidence, relying on the word proposed rather than telling the young man that he had kidnapped his bride to be from her first wedding. “But she told me she hated me. And because I loved her, I pursued her until she loved me back. And I have learned something raising my sister Georgiana, and living in a house with three very headstrong girls this past two weeks.”

“What is that?” asked Mr. Richards. He was surprised that Darcy had confided that story to him, that the man was taking a parental role almost.

Darcy laughed once more. “Assume nothing. Always ask if you are unsure, and… they like pirates.”

“What?!”

“Nothing. Just… do not, like some bloody martyr, refuse to approach the girl of your heart because you are afraid she does not love you back. Chase her. Runaway with her… or at least threaten to.” He ended with a chuckle.

Richards was quite confused. Mr. Darcy was being quite enigmatic, silly even. He might have asked a question to follow up his employer's absurd remarks, but they were interrupted by a pretty head thrust out the carriage window.

“What is it you laugh about?” questioned Mr. Jones' youngest daughter. “I am not tired, and would like to share the joke.”

The two men rode up to the carriage window, one on each side. Darcy slowed his horse and lowered his head to look into the carriage. Seeing his curious stare, Elizabeth turned toward him and smiled a sleepy smile. Young Hinton was asleep in her lap; his head limp against her shoulder. Darcy was jolted with the sudden idea that one day it would be their child she cradled so. The two Miss. Joneses sat opposite his fiancée and her little ward, smiling into the opposite window at Mr. Richards. Rene's smile was planned and beguiling, Elaina's was sweet and tentative… and sad.

“We were joking of nothing ladies,” informed Mr. Richards. “We were just talking business, as men do.”

Elizabeth looked curiously at her future husband, cocking her head to one side. He gave her a slight smile as if to say, later my love, and said instead, “We shall be at the Green Hill Inn by sunrise. That should be in about two hours, I think. Then we marry.”

“But Mr. Darcy,” interrupted Rene, “What about her wedding dress, and her family? Are they not to be here? Shouldn't the bride have some say in the matter?”

“None whatsoever,” answered Elizabeth instead of Darcy, “For you see, I have agreed to marry a pirate, and knew from the beginning what I was getting into,” she said quite seriously.”

“Indeed you did,” he replied gravely before riding to the front once more. “Indeed you did.” Only Elizabeth noticed the sudden moonlight glinting on a mischievous gleam in her pirate fiancé's eye.

“A pirate… whatever do you mean Elizabeth?” asked Elaina, taking her attention away from her friend and the sister who flirted with him.

“Mr. Darcy is a self proclaimed Pirate girls, Mr. Richards, and,” she ended with a smile, “I'm his captive!”

Chapter 13

Posted on Wednesday, 12 January 2005

The tiny seaside village was just beginning to awaken. Sleepy shopkeepers opened their shops and a boy rubbing his eyes with balled up fists stood almost lifelessly on a street corner, a stack of newspapers at his side.

Darcy's carriage stopped close to the gangplank of a good-sized ship with the name Anne painted across the side. A small woman with shinning blonde hair leaned excitedly over one railing as the ship's crewmen scuttled about, unloading, cleaning, shouting orders and gruff replies.

Darcy himself scowled at the men unloading the ship. Surely they carried too much luggage for one woman! “Jones!” he yelled. “Does your wife carry enough clothes for herself and your daughters?”

Mr. Jones frowned. “No Darce, only one of those trunks is hers. I don't recognize the other ones.” Now both men stared at the trunks, hands on their hips, eyebrows pulled down low and contemplative over their dark eyes.

The other man in the company, Mr. Richards, helped the ladies from the carriage. Rene smiled up prettily at him as she clung to his arm. The easy grin he returned her turned to a scowl though when she left his side to go greet her mother in law who was walking off the ship. Elaina followed after her sister and after a moment overflowing with serious thought, Mr. Richards followed after Elaina, offering her his arm. She took it, smiling a strange smile of shyness and deep friendship. Elizabeth watched all this from her spot by the carriage, a small hand holding onto little Hinton's shoulder, a smug smile upon her lips. When she saw that the blonde woman, whom she assumed to be Mrs. Jones had left the precarious gangplank and was firmly on the ground, she released the little boy's shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear.

“I believe that is your mama Hinton. Should you go greet her?” The little boy's face illuminated in a bright smile that only little boys can have and ran as fast as he dared toward the shape he recognized as his mother. Elizabeth watched still as Hinton threw his arms around Mrs. Jones and she scooped him up her arms. When she put the boy down again, she threw an arm around each girl and began to walk toward Elizabeth. Elizabeth scanned the area, looking for the three men who were their escorts and protectors. They were nowhere in sight.

“And are you the Miss. Elizabeth Bennet my stepdaughters and son have been telling me about?”

Elizabeth brought her stare around to face Mrs. Jones. “Yes, I am. And it is nice to meet you Mrs. Jones. I've heard so much about you.”

“I suppose the girls have told you how horrible and strict I am and my son has told him how I don't allow him to eat cookies for breakfast.” There was a laugh in her voice that was irresistible, and Elizabeth hoped that she would get to spend much time getting to know the woman before her.

“Oh no, nothing so hideous I assure you,” Elizabeth replied.

“I wish to thank you for looking after my children in my absence, it was very good of you.”

“It was no problem. And I do hope you are not too shocked by your son's arm.”

“Oh no! It was bound to happen at some time, what with the way he rampages about all the time.”

“He is a spirited child.”

“Like my daughters here,” Mrs. Jones responded, gracing her stepdaughters with a loving smile. “Also like me I'm afraid.”

“And father,” said the sisters together, laughing.

Elizabeth just could not picture the usually amiable Mr. Jones as spirited in any way. But she knew that his family would know him better than she ever could.

“Speaking of your father… where is the man? And the most mysterious Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Jones cast a roving eye in all directions.

“And where is Mr. Richards?” asked Rene. He was with us when we met Rachel on the gangplank, but he has disappeared.

The four women looked about them, confusion writ all over their faces. Exactly where had all the men gone?

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Jones had gone to talk to the ship's captain to find out what had delayed what was supposed to have been a relatively short journey. On their way up the gangplank, they spotted Mr. Richards, and Darcy waved for the young man to follow him, thinking of expanding the duties that belong to the position of secretary to include keeping notes on the maintenance and upkeep of a good ship.

They had not but touched the planks of the ship's floorboards when the captain came rushing up to the three men, agitation obvious in the tilt of his mouth, the tone of his words.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy, I'm afraid we've run into a bit of a problem sir.”

“I'd say you have. You were supposed to have been back a week ago!”

“Yes, but it is because of this problem that we were delayed.”

“Well man, explain!” exclaimed Mr. Jones. “Did my wife become sick? Was there trouble at sea? Storms?”

“No sir, no sir. The journey would have gone smoothly and quickly had we not mistakenly picked up extra passengers in Bath.” The man bit his lower lip, as if expecting a beating or at least harsh, loud words. But all he received was a calm question.

“Passengers? The plan did not include picking up extra passengers Mr. Halloway,” spoke Darcy coolly.

“Yes sir, I know, but they claimed to know you, to have urgent business with you. Indeed, the woman claimed to be your betrothed.”

“My what!” Now Darcy's temper and volume rose, causing beads of sweat to break out on the captain's forehead.

“But it was a lie sir. One of the men heard her talking to the old man that is traveling with her. They was sayin' scandalous things about you sir, that you had kidnapped the old man's daughter and run away with her, ruinin her reputation. That you had promised to marry the woman on the ship but then you took this other lady in stead. So we locked em up Mr. Darcy. The man, he was sayin that he was goin to kill ya once he saw ya. And that's when we realized that we was harborin criminals and liars.” He looked to him employer for some sign that he had done right. But Darcy's face was unreadable.

“You… locked them up?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Would you like me to take ya to em?”

“Yes… yes I would.” Darcy knew that if his captain really had locked up who he thought the captain had locked up, then his life was about to become just a bit harder.

They followed the well-intentioned captain down into the ship and Mr. Jones turned to Mr. Darcy. “Darcy, what is going on? Do you think you know these people? What could they be thinking?”

Darcy did not answer.

Mr. Richard's mind was working fast, putting the captain's story and Darcy's revelation together quickly. Hadn't Mr. Darcy said that Miss. Bennet had hated him at first, but that he had doggedly pursued her until she had agreed to be his? Could he have kidnapped Miss. Bennet? Surely not. Mr. Darcy was one of the most straightforward, honest and noble men Mr. Richards had ever met.

When they reached a door at the back of the boat, the captain pulled out a key. “They're in this room sir. I kept em in a suit, so they'd be comfortable, but I locked the door.”

Darcy turned to his two companions before the captain could put the key in the lock. “Roger my friend, I think I should handle this. Why don't you go to your wife and family. Tell Miss. Bennet to prepare for our wedding. I'll handle this situation as quickly as possible and will return to the inn before too long. Mr. Richards,” he said, nodding his head to the young man, “I think you should go with Mr. Jones. Four women and a small rambunctious child might be too much for even a man of Roger's stamina to handle.” He smiled a smile that did not quite seem whole hearted and turned back to the captain and the locked door once Mr. Jones and Mr. Richards had walked back up on deck. Nodding his assent to the captain, the key was slid into the lock, the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

Darcy took a deep breath, and entered the darkened room.

Both occupants of the cabin looked up when the captain entered, Darcy following close behind.

Caroline jumped from a chair she had taken at the back of the small but accommodating room. “Mr. Darcy! I am so glad you have come. You will not believe the atrocities I've been exposed to, the injustices that have been heaped upon me! That man!” she exclaimed, pointing towards Captain Halloway, “threw me in this room, accusing me of treasonous plans!” She huffed up to Darcy and threw her arms across her chest, attempting to look as pained and hurt as possible. Darcy did not think she looked hurt or pained at all. He thought she looked indignant and righteous, and he almost not keep himself from rolling his eyes at her protestations. But, living a lifetime of being reserved had its benefits, and Mr. Darcy was successfully able to keep his face void of all disapproving emotion.

“Mr. Darcy,” came a threatening growl from a dark corner of the small cabin. Mr. Bennet stepped up to the man, standing a few feet behind Miss. Bingley. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

Darcy felt cornered and cramped in this tiny room with so many glaring eyes and murderous intents on him. “Captain Halloway,” he said, turning toward the man, “would you please escort Miss. Bingley to the local inn? I'll be along in a while.”
Caroline looked as if she were about to refuse to go with the good captain, but before she could get out a single word, Halloway had her arm in his and was escorting her from the room, never one to tarry on his employer's orders.

“Mr. Bennet, I believe we need to talk in private,” spoke Darcy, as the captain drug Caroline unceremoniously out the door.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I have an unusually important matter to discuss with you, you lying, menacing, preying cad!” Mr. Bennet drew quickly closer to Mr. Darcy, a fist shaking dangerously close to Darcy's face. Darcy drew back a step.

“Mr. Bennet, can we please sit calmly and have a civilized conversation about all this? Please, take a seat.” Darcy pulled a chair from under a table and offered it to the older man. Mr. Bennet glared cautiously at the man who kidnapped his daughter. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime of cautious deliberation on the elder Bennet's part, the man took the chair that Darcy offered, and Darcy sat himself across the table from the other man.

“I'll give one chance to explain your actions to my satisfaction, though I can't promise you I won't still take actions against you. You have thoroughly endangered my daughter's person, and ruined her reputation, not to mention your own sir, so speak carefully, and I recommend the truth.”

Darcy was not used to being interrogated. He was usually the one with the upper hand in every situation. And here he was, explaining his actions to someone else. It was totally new for the master of Pemberley, and needless to say, he did not like it. But he knew that in this instance, he had been in the wrong. It had been scandalous to kidnap his future bride from another wedding, and he really had no sane reason to offer that could make his motives seem better than they were. So, setting in place the grim stone face Darcy look, he began an explanation.

“To start out with sir, I do not regret rescuing your daughter from what would have been a disastrous union.”

Mr. Bennet looked as if he was about to interrupt, but Mr. Darcy silenced him.

“No sir, pray do not interrupt me. I've much to say and wish to get it out all at once. You may ask as many questions as you like after I've had my say.” There was not question to Darcy's voice. He was telling the older man what to do in a tone that breached no argument. He continued his explanation.

“I was not thinking sir, not logically at least. When I showed up at the church, my only thought was that I could not allow a woman such as Elizabeth Bennet marry a man such as Mr. Collins. She is smart, witty, beautiful and vivacious. Mr. Collins is none of these, and I do not mean to criticize Mr. Bennet, but I cannot see how either you or your wife thought it an appropriate match. Surely you see how much more valuable your daughter is.” He did not wait for an answer.

“I had no thought to whether my actions were appropriate or not, or indeed whether they would be accepted or not by your daughter. I simply knew that I loved her, and could let her marry no other man than myself. Of course I realize now that I was very presumptuous in my thoughts and actions. And sir, let me assure you, that had Elizabeth not had plans of her own after our escape, we'd have already been married long ago. But I can assure you also that no inappropriate actions have taken place. Both of us have remained as pure and innocent in our dealings as any decent couple can admit to. And I finish, sir, by saying that we are to marry this very afternoon, and I know Elizabeth would be delighted to have you present. Indeed, it has been my greatest regret, that even though I've won the desire of my heart, my actions have taken from her the grand wedding she might have had, the opportunity of having her loved ones look on as she begins a new chapter of her life.” With that, Darcy quit talking and looked onto Mr. Bennet, awaiting a reply of any sort. It was not long in coming either.

“You are marrying her then. And she wishes to marry you?”

“Yes sir, miraculously, she does.”

“May I see her?”

“Of course! She is not my prisoner! Matter of fact, she's been acting as governess in my household for the past two weeks.” At the incredulous look on his future father in law's face, Darcy knew that further explanation would be needed. “It was not my idea. I did not want her to do such a thing, but since my friend and his children were staying with me, and his wife was visiting her parents, Elizabeth felt that they needed her more than I. Though I beg to differ on that point to a certain extent,” mused Darcy almost to himself. “She has been housed in the best of rooms, in a hallway on a completely different floor than my own, across the hall from the quarters where the two girls she was looking after slept. Can you find any fault in my actions sir?”

“Aside from the fact that you kidnapped my daughter on her wedding day, absconded with her across the ocean to Scotland, where you housed her at your own estate where she worked as a governess while engaged to you, no, no Mr. Darcy, I cannot,” spoke Mr. Bennet, his words heavy with disdain.

“I can tell that you do not like me sir,” said Darcy icily. “I wish it were not so, for we are soon to be related.”

“No Mr. Darcy, I do not like you. And that remains to be seen. Miss. Bingley has just been telling me that you were to marry her. What do you have to say to that man?”

“You may choose to believe me or Miss. Bingley. Would I be right in believing that no matter what I say, you will side with her?”

“She did not kidnap my daughter!”

“Then I will not be able to bring you around?” asked Darcy, though there was no questioning tone to his voice.

“No, sir, you will not. I'll be taking my daughter home this very day.”

“You will not be able to sir, for your daughter, will soon be my wife. And once she is so, it will be you who is the kidnapper.” Darcy stood from the chair as if to leave, but halted his steps and turned back to the man at the table. “I knew it would be rough between us, because of my inexcusable actions. But I had hoped that once you saw my love for Elizabeth, you would be persuaded to forgive me. I see it is not so. And because I know it will pain Elizabeth, it pains me. But I will marry her; you will not stop me.” Darcy left the room, a scowling Mr. Bennet remained seated looking into the empty doorway that the infuriating daughternapper had just vacated.

Chapter 14

Posted on Thursday, 20 January 2005

Caroline did not like being escorted through a small seaside town on the arm of a mere sea captain. It was disgraceful! It was beneath her! And here she was, dazedly hooked onto the arm of said lowly sea captain, leaning heavily on him actually. It seemed that her legs were not working properly, and she did not know how she moved one in front of the other.

Despite the fact that her legs would not quite obey her commands, the haughty grimace on her face was in full swing. By the time they reached the quaint little inn in the middle of the small fishing village, Caroline was more angry than she could ever remember being. To be treated so by Mr. Darcy was unbearable.

She could not yet bring herself to believe that it had really been her Mr. Darcy who had swept Elizabeth away from Mr. Collins that fateful day. As far as Caroline was concerned, Elizabeth was perfectly suited for the odious clergyman.

The grimace on Caroline's face deepened as she stepped over the threshold to the inn and looked into the bustling morning atmosphere of the inn. She surveyed the room with a cold eye, noticing every knick and scrape on the tops of the tables that scattered the first floor of the inn that served as a type of tavern. She eyed suspiciously every occupant quaintly nibbling on bacon or gulping a mug of fresh cocoa. Caroline was amazed to see that this little establishment boasted not only male occupant, but female as well. Well, thought Caroline, at least not any reputable female.

She eyed the table of women warily. There were two men and a small boy with the three women who sitting at a rather large table in the back of the room. The boy was busy shoving forkfuls of something or other that made Caroline cringe into his mouth, and two dark eyed girls, obviously sisters, talked animatedly with the younger man sitting across from them. Caroline realized that one of the women, the one staring lovingly up at the older man, was the same annoyingly fiery blonde woman who had shared Darcy's ship with her and Mr. Bennet. The one that had not been locked into a room below deck.

Caroline's gaze was diverted from the female filled table as she realized that the captain was steering her towards a table and pulling a chair out for her to sit in. She sat down stiffly and gently as if the chair might break under her insubstantial weight. She sniffed disgustedly when the captain asked if she would like something to eat or drink, and resumed her perusal of her former shipmate and her companions.

A woman can never fight the temptation to weigh and judge other women, figuring out who is the better woman in everything from the shape of noses and the turn of a countenance to fashion sense and the musical quality of her giggle.

Caroline scanned the table thusly, measuring each woman in turn and, either finding faults or pulling them from her own imagination, immediately determined not to like them. Indeed, her judgment had been decided before she'd even set foot in the inn.

A pair of fine and familiar eyes flickered into Caroline's view. There were four women at the table. Why Caroline had not noticed the one at the end was a mystery to her, but one she quickly forgot with the dawning of the fact that it was Miss. Eliza Bennet who sat there with fine sparkling eyes and a waiting laugh. The waiting laugh erupted and Caroline was perturbed to find it musical indeed.

Quickly, she stood up from the table and made her way to the back of the room. “Miss. Jones,” she said, fake syrupy adulation over every intonation. “This must be your husband, Mr. Darcy's dear friend.” She turned to Mr. Jones. “I've heard so much about you sir. Mr. Darcy has always regarded your friendship highly.”

“Oh,” replied Mr. Jones, “You are Miss. Bingley right? I believe I saw you once or twice while in London a while back.”

“Yes, yes. I was delighted when I learned that this charming little angel was your wife. She really is a dear. You must take care of her though, she was severely sick most of the time on the ship. But I'm sure you're aware of her weak constitution.” Miss. Bingley smiled while Mr. Jones looked confusedly from her to his wife. His wife who had never been sick a day in her life and whose father owned a ship himself. She'd practically grown up on the sea. Mr. Jones was more likely to get seasick. Oftentimes his wife stayed above board, relishing in the salty spray of the sea, while he moaned and groaned below deck.

Caroline changed her line of interest to her real target. “Ah! I see we have a similar acquaintance Mrs. Jones.” Her eyes now regarded Elizabeth coolly, extending a silent challenge of sorts. “I hope you have not missed your fiancée Miss. Bennet. He is quite worried for you you know.”

“No, Miss. Bingley, I've not missed my fiancée.” Elizabeth spoke with unwavering truth and conviction. “May I enquire your reason for visiting an out of the way little hamlet such as this? I thought that surely a woman of your demeanor and station would not take pleasure in any sort of rustic country landscape.” Elizabeth's eyebrow arched upward as she spoke, a strange glint in her eye.

“It is no secret why I've come here Miss. Bennet.” The two stared each other down now. Their gazes locked in a duel to the death. “I've come to save Mr. Darcy.”

Save Mr. Darcy? Save Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth, I am not the one who kidnapped him! She said as much to her adversary, her eyes widening as she pressed the palms of her hands against the table and pushed to a standing position.

“The man was obviously sick when he… when he…” stammered Caroline, unable to put a name to Darcy's daring act of rescuing Elizabeth from a Mr. Collins infested alter. “He was out of his mind! He did not know what he was doing.” Caroline was adamant in this particular idea. It was either that, or the silly little country girl before her had tricked him in some way. But Darcy was the master of Pemberley, and of 10,000 pounds a year, and could thus be forgiven for anything.

Elizabeth laughed out loud, a harsher laugh than before. “Mr. Darcy is certainly not sick! Enthusiastic and impulsive, yes, but sick, no.”

“Enthusiastic? Impulsive? You most obviously do not know Mr. Darcy,” stated Caroline.

“Actually, Miss. Bingley, I believe I might be one of the few people who have ever been privileged enough to see the true Darcy. I assure you, you would have no taste for him.” Elizabeth was almost amazed by her own audacity. Somehow, the knowledge that Darcy loved her and was marrying her this very day, and the challenge of so silly a woman as Caroline Bingley, emboldened her. A wicked thought entered her mind, tempted the back of her throat, and rolled sweetly over her tongue and through her parted lips. “Miss. Bingley, if you are not occupied this afternoon, perhaps you would consider attending my wedding.” Elizabeth could not believe the words she had just uttered.

Neither could Caroline. Her jaw hung slack in a most undignified manner and her milky white complexion turned red as the soldiers' coats. Quickly clanking her jaw shut and narrowing her widened eyes, Caroline thrust her fists to her sides, turned sharply, and left the table without comment.

Elizabeth sat, blushing. “I should not have said that… I fear,” spoke she into the muted silence that had fallen over the breakfast table's occupants.

“I thought it was brilliant!” exclaimed Rene, her eyes glowing with excitement. Elizabeth looked at the young girl, then at her older sister, whose eyes shone heavy with amusement and admiration. She could almost she the cogs in the girl's head fitting her words into a story of some sort. Young Mr. Richards' eyes held the same expression, though more prevalent was the look of astonishment, bewilderment. Mr. Jones and his wife mirrored these sentiments and Elizabeth began to feel quite ashamed of herself. After all, in the end, who would end up with the prize? Who was the one that her Mr. Darcy really loved? The answer was simple, and gave Elizabeth reason to regret her harsh treatment of Miss. Bingley, who would not come out of the whole ordeal as happily as Elizabeth surely would.

“I… I must go apologize to her.” She stood up and turned around only to bump into a very flustered and serious looking Darcy.

“Apologize for what?” he asked, his keen eyes searching hers.

“Mr. Darcy,” spoke Elizabeth, startled. “Did you happen to see which way Miss. Bingley went?”

“Why?”

“I need to have a word with her, alone,” she added for good measure.

“I caught her fighting Captain Halloway to leave the inn. I assured her that she would have a ready room here, then instructed a maid to take her to the quarters I arranged for her.”

Elizabeth frowned and pulled away. “You arranged for her to have a room here?” she asked.

“Yes, what else could I do? Elizabeth, forget Miss. Bingley for the moment. The preacher has been sent for and you and I are to wed within two hours time, and there is something I must talk with you about.” His words as well as his look was serious, and though Elizabeth did not feel that he had answered her questions at all, she had learned not to jump to conclusions where Darcy was concerned. The infuriating man could be incredibly vague at times.

“Yes, we must talk. But then I really must have a word with Miss. Bingley afterwards.”

“Yes Elizabeth, you shall have anything you like… but first,” and taking her hand through the crook of his arm, he led her into the same back room where Elizabeth had first misheard his conversation with Mr. Jones. He sat her in a comfortable armchair and commenced pacing. Her eyes followed him patiently until he stopped directly in front of her. “You are marrying me today,” he asserted fiercely.

“Yes, of course I am.” She might have laughed had her intended not looked as disturbed as he did now. “William… what is the matter?”

There was only one way to tell her. “Your father is here.”

“My father! But how? Have you seen him?” A part of Elizabeth felt elated that her father would be at her wedding. But reality soon came crashing in as she realized that her father's presence here was most likely not a propitious occurrence. He was sure to oppose her marriage to the man who kidnapped her from her first wedding.

“Yes. I've spoken to him. He came here with Miss. Bingley on the boat I sent for Mrs. Jones. Needless to say, he's very upset. He does not wish us to marry.” Darcy was silent for a moment, deep in reflection. Elizabeth was lost in thought also, afraid to voice her fears.

“I was wrong,” spoke Darcy, breaking the silence, “to have done what I did. I've been selfish, and Elizabeth, I haven't let myself think about what I've done to you because I thought that whatever we've formed between us made up for all my discretions. I've denied you a wedding surrounded by your family and friends, forced you into a hurried, tradition less ceremony just because I am impatient to have you for my own. And my very actions have put built up a wall against any friendly relationship I might have with those that you love. I've sacrificed my nobility, which was mine to freely give, and I do not regret giving it for you; but I've also sacrificed your nobility, and that was not mine to take. I've done an unforgivable thing that will surely mar and strain our union.

“Your father has every right in the world to be angry with me, to hate me. If I were in his place, and a man had absconded with Georgiana, I'd be just as angry.

“I am truly sorry Elizabeth,” ended Darcy. He stood with feet slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and his hidden gaze devouring the flames that roared in the fireplace. Elizabeth sat still in her chair, gazing as intently at his back as he was at the fire.

“I… I believe I am confused,” she stuttered simply. Darcy did not turn around, so she continued. “You assure me that we are to be married today in one breath, and then in the next, you more or less confess to me that you regret saving me from that horrid wedding. Which is it sir, so that I may know what my afternoon plans include?”

“Do you not see Miss. Bennet? I finally understand that I did you no favors in taking you that day. My intentions were purely selfish; I did not think of your reputation, only of my own happiness.”

Elizabeth frowned when he would not look at her. She scowled when she realized that it had been a Miss. Bennet that had stiffly passed between his teeth and not the sweet rolling tones of the way he said Elizabeth. She stood up from the chair and stood to side of him, studying him profile. Shadows and light played across the planes of his face, his dark curls were tousled, windblown, his clothes were in slight disarray, and a cold glint narrowed his dark brooding eyes. He had never looked more the pirate to her than he did now.

Still he would not look at her. If he looked her way, he knew he would not be able to back down; he would not be able to give her up so freely. He felt the heat of her gaze burn hotter on his skin than the heat of the flames that scorched through his clothing. He was glad when she walked silently away. He tried to ignore the fact that she took his heart with her out the door.

Elizabeth was not quite as angry as we might all believe. She had jumped to conclusions before concerning Darcy, and she would not do it now. She knew he still loved her; he was just having an attack of guilty conscience, brought on by the unexpected arrival of her father.

He wouldn't listen to her, whatever she said, Elizabeth was sure of that. Her father would not listen to her either. She was as certain of this as she was of the other. Her father would pack her up and ship her back to Mr. Collins. The thought sent horrible shivers up and down her spine. “No, no, no,” she repeated devoutly under her breath. Was she to be denied the happiness that Darcy had admitted to so selfishly taking? What was a girl to do when the men in her life kept so suddenly changing on her? Her father, who had always doted upon his favorite daughter, and whom she thought would never suffer to see her married to a man so clearly not her equal, had decided to chain her kicking and screaming to an odious parson who adored and odious old woman. And now the confidant, take charge Darcy she had come to know and love had reverted back to the shy, appearance worshiping man that had so irked her when she had first met him. Where was the doting father?! Where was the Dread Pirate?!

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. But as an answer developed in her clear mind, she realized that keeping her mind free from anger had been an invaluable strategy. Hastening up her steps, she peered into the public dinning area to find that the Joneses and Mr. Richards still sat at the back table. Caroline Bingley would have to wait for the moment, thought Elizabeth, failing to find the tall silk bedecked woman anywhere in sight. The guilt from their earlier encounter was lessening, and Elizabeth was once again beginning to believe that her small attacks had not been so very harsh after all. But perhaps this was because her future with Mr. Darcy was not now sealed. There was still a slight chance that Caroline could win, and this solidified her as the enemy in Elizabeth's mind, leaving no room for sympathy.

“Miss. Jones, Elaina, Rene?” All three women looked up at Elizabeth, the men studied her curiously. “May I have a word with you?” She opened her gaze to now include Mr. Richards and the sisters' father. “And, I believe I could use your help as well,” she added calmly.

“What is this about Miss. Bennet?” inquired Mr. Jones. He pulled a chair out from under the table and bid Elizabeth sit.

Taking the offered seat, Elizabeth spoke candidly. “I have just finished speaking with Mr. Darcy about the wedding. Complications have arisen that he believes will keep us from marrying today. Indeed, he says we may not ever wed. My father has come. He intends to take me back to the man I was to wed before Darcy… I mean… that is, before I met Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh but Elizabeth! You can't marry that other man!” Rene seemed almost livid. “Surely Mr. Darcy will not let you!”

“Rene,” spoke her father, “I'm sure Mr. Darcy has his reason.” The older man stared thoughtfully into space for no more than a moment before turning to Mr. Richards. “Mr. Richards, I believe we should go talk with Mr. Darcy.” The young secretary nodded his head in agreement, having formed a great respect for Darcy since the advice of the night before, and with Mr. Jones, rose from the table and bowing to the ladies, exited the room.

Elizabeth remained silent, but Mrs. Jones filled the void. “I believe we should retire to the girls' room. We can talk in private there.” The small blonde woman led the way as the three taller, dark haired girls followed in her energetic wake, little Hinton clinging to his mommy's hand. Mrs. Jones signaled for a maid to stoke the fire and then shooed her from the room as they all took seats in various chairs or on the large bed that sat in the center of the room.

“You have every intention of marrying Mr. Darcy today don't you?” spoke Mrs. Jones, her words more statement than question.

A small smile slipped onto Elizabeth's lips. “How did you know Mrs. Jones?”

“Please, you must call me Rachel. It was easy to see your determination. I was there once also you see.” The sisters giggled and smiled, remembering the way their stepmother had had to fight to convince their father that it was all right to marry. “What do you plan on doing about all this Elizabeth? You don't mind if I call you Elizabeth do you? I've never been much for formality.”

“Yes, of course you may call me Elizabeth. And… I have a small plan worked out. But… it will depend on the amount of help I can scrape together.” At this, she glanced hopefully from one woman to another. Each smiled mischievously, and Elizabeth's hopes rose considerably.

“What is this small plan?” asked Elaina, a curious light entering her eyes as she leaned closer to the fire, her voice low.

“Why,” spoke Elizabeth, sitting straight up in her chair, chin held high, “to become a pirate.”

Chapter 15

Posted on Wednesday, 26 January 2005

Elizabeth scurried toward the port with Rene trailing behind her.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth, wait up. You're moving much too fast! The ship isn't going to set sail unless Mr. Darcy orders it so. You've nothing to rush for!” The young girl was breathless with trying to keep up. Elizabeth heard it in Rene's voice and slowed her steps, stopping for a minute to wait for her companion, her partner in piracy. After Elizabeth had taken over the title of pirate, so had all the other women in the room, Rachel Jones pronouncing quite heartily that “sometimes a spot of piracy is the only way to ever get anything done.”

They matched their steps easily to each other and began a companionable stroll towards the docks.

“Elizabeth,” asked Rene, “May I speak with you about something?”

“Yes, of course. You may speak with me about anything,” answered Elizabeth.

“Elaina loves Mr. Richards. I know she does so do not play dumb with me. It is one of the reasons I've flirted so atrociously with him. I wanted to aggravate her into showing her affection for him, into fighting for him. I suspect that she's been in love with him since we lived in America. All her stories seem to have some far off dark haired romantic figure in them, some unattainable and perfect man who will never give the flawed and tragic heroin a second glance.” Rene laughed. “It is all rather funny isn't it! Mr. Richards let me read one of his stories the other day Elizabeth, and I couldn't believe it! Do you know what it was about?” Her voice was shaking with barely controlled mirth. “A brooding and handsome young man falls in love with the smart and beautiful and eccentric young woman who thinks of him as nothing but a friend! And of course, the smart, beautiful, eccentric young woman sounds much like Elaina.”

“So you mean to tell me that this whole time you've been harassing your sister about Mr. Richards… it has been to goad her into showing him how she feels?” Elizabeth was stunned. She had certainly not seen this coming.

“Yes, or to goad Mr. Richards into declaring to me, or her, his true feelings towards my sister. They are the two most obtuse, stubborn, and blind people I know. And they're supposed to be intelligent!” Rene loosed a small “hmph” and focused on a ship that was growing on the horizon. “But what do we do now? There's smiling and furtive hidden glances aplenty, but nothing solid. We must convince Mr. Richards to confess Elizabeth! We just have to! I am absolutely determined to have him as a brother in law!”

“Maybe they will come together on their own Rene. It just takes some people more time to feel comfortable showing their affections than others,” spoke Elizabeth, thinking of Jane, and how Charlotte had warned her of hiding so completely such emotions.

The girls lapsed into silence as the ships in the port loomed closer, the bustle of the seaside quickened, and the smell of fish in the air became stronger. Elizabeth easily spied Darcy's ship, The Anne, and walked purposefully toward it, quickening her steps, Rene following in her wake.

When they reached the gangplank to the Anne, Rene turned to Elizabeth once more. “That is what you told Elaina to do isn't it?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to come with you, told Rachel to go to Mr. Darcy, and then you spoke privately with Elaina, and never told us her part in your little plan. And since you were so secretive, ou had to be discussing a sensitive subject.” Her words tumbled faster as she spoke, building up momentum for the final revelation. “And what could be more sensitive a topic to her than Jonathan Richards?”

Elizabeth smiled proudly at the younger girl. “I knew you were brilliant Rene.”

“But how? What is Elaina going to be able to do that will help you marry Mr. Darcy today? And that includes Mr. Richards at that! This is an impossible scheme Elizabeth! I don't see what you're getting at in the least. Why won't you tell us your whole plan?” Rene pouted, jutting her lip out as far as it would go and narrowing her eyes. “Why don't we just hire thieves to kidnap Mr. Darcy for you?”

“Because my father or Miss. Bingley for that matter, would hire thieves to kidnap me! No, it must be done this way.” They resumed their journey up the gang plank and boarded the ship. Captain Halloway, having just reached the boat himself, greeted the women suspiciously.

“I'm afraid you two young ladies are gowin ta haf ta leave. You have no business here,” spoke the good captain.

“I'm sure we do,” answered Elizabeth. “A man took passage on this ship with a younger woman. He is my father and I wish to know in which direction he went in when he left the ship.”

“Your father Miss.? Well then, he hasn't gone in any direction. He has yet to leave the boat.”

“Then might I speak with him? Will you show me to him?”

“I do not think tha tit could hurt ma'am. Follow me.”

Elizabeth followed closely, her young companion as close on her heels as she was on the captains.

“I do not know why he has stayed on the boat ma'am. Perhaps he was just waitin for you though,” spoke the captain abruptly, stopping mid sentence to look back at her. She collided into him, and Rene into her, just as Captain Halloway picked up his steps once more, leading them below deck. He stopped just short of a door in a small hallway.

“He's in there ma'am. I assume you wish to speak w' im privately.”

“Yes thank you,” she replied, opening the door and motioning Rene to follow her through into the room.

Her father stood looking out the porthole, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Father.”

With one word, whispered in rather worried tones, the man tuned around to find the unsure gaze of his missing daughter centered squarely on him. She saw relief flood his eyes as he closed the space between them and took her into his arms.

“Oh Lizzy, You are alright I see,” he finally said, holding her at arms length to inspect her for any damage.

“Yes father, I am very much alright.” Elizabeth thought that there might be tears pulling at the corner of her eyes, and she pulled her determination tight around her. “And, besides not being with you and Jane, I am very happy as well.”

Mr. Bennet's face hardened. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and once more clasped his hands behind his back. “I've come to take you back Lizzy. Back home. To your mother, and to Jane, and to Mr. Collins.” There was no give in his words, but Elizabeth would not give either.

“I would gladly come back home to you, or Jane, or Mother, Father, but not to Mr. Collins. I do not love him, and refuse to marry him, as I always have. You knew when you approved the engagement that I was miserable over it. I told you then that I would not marry that odious man, and you did not listen. And if it had not been for Mr. Darcy, I very well might have been forced to do your bidding! I might very well be shackled to a toad for the rest of my life!

“But as it is, Father, Mr. Darcy did rescue me. And I put special emphasis on the word rescue. For even traveling with a man I thought to be ignoble and prideful was more tempting than marrying that… that man. And I now know that Mr. Darcy is the best of men, and the only man I could ever respect as a husband… the only man that I could ever love.”

“Elizabeth—“ interrupted Mr. Bennet heatedly.

“No! Do not interrupt. I came to see if I could garner your approval of my marriage. Have I? Do you bless the union I will enter into with Mr. Darcy this day?”

“Never,” came her father's cold negative. “You will do as I say Elizabeth, and you will marry Mr. Collins.”

“No, no I will not. If you change your mind father, and wish to walk me down the isle, we will be at the local church at noon. I would like to have your blessing father.”

He just glared at her.

She sighed in reply to her glare then turned her back on him and faced Rene who stood patiently in the doorway. “Come Rene, there is much to be done.”

Mr. Bennet was furious. His favorite daughter, the one who was a paragon of sense and reliability had turned as silly, no, sillier, far sillier than her sisters. He stormed around the room for a bit before pulling up the chain of his weathered pocket watch. Eleven o'clock. One hour. He had one hour before the accursed union was solidified. And he was quite sure that he had a better chance of stopping the wedding than he did of convincing Elizabeth to get a divorce. Why had he done it all, he thought warily. Why had he forced her to marry Mr. Collins? Why had he chased her all the way here, insisting that she leave the man she did love and marry a man she didn't, even after the kidnapping had caused such a scandal as to make it almost imperative that Elizabeth did marry Darcy.

He knew why. She was his daughter. And as her father, he was her rock. And especially with their particular family, they were each others' sensible companions in a house full of ridiculousness. Mr. Collins was also ridiculous, and totally unworthy of his favorite daughter. But, as long as she was married to Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet remained his daughter's sensible rock in a life full of… well… silliness. But, if Elizabeth married, dependable, noble, intelligent Mr. Darcy, then where did that leave him? Who was he to his daughter once she had found someone to replace him?

No, he'd effectively lose his favorite if she married Mr. Darcy. He could not let this happen.

It never occurred to him that this was a tad selfish, and that if he loved his “favorite” so much, he would want what made her happiest, and that at the moment was Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Bennet stopped and stared out the porthole for a second more before striding purposefully toward the door and throwing it open. He left the boat then, never noticing the two pairs of dark feminine eyes watching him from its railing.

Elaina knocked carefully on the thick wooden door before her. She could hear voices on the other side: the light almost joking voice of her father, Darcy's deep timbre, and Mr. Richardson's lyric tones that would hold a hint of a laugh if he were smiling. She was bid enter, and before she turned the door's handle, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Elaina,” said her father, “do you need something child?”

“No, yes. Yes, father. I was wishing to talk to Mr. Richards actually. It is a matter of great importance, that only another writer could understand.” She really wasn't lying to her father. It was a matter of great importance, and most likely, Mr. Richards would only understand because he had the same hopelessly romantic notions that she had. It came with the writing territory really.

Richards looked inquisitively at Elaina. “A passage?” He asked.

“Yes, a passage. I'm having a bit of a hard time making sense of this poem. Shakespeare. His meaning is simply alluding me I'm afraid.” Elaina knew he could not pass up a chance to read Shakespeare, or to assert his literary superiority. It was a never-ending mock battle between them. One they both had always delighted in. “Would you care to have a look at it Mr. Richards?” She held his eyes for as long as she could, hoping to grab his attention. And she did, for a while, until he tore his eyes from hers and looked to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy nodded his head in approval, and Elaina realized that the man looked more somber and forbidding than she had ever seen him. He actually looked morose… unapproachable… cold. If this was what he was like without Elizabeth, then her little lies and trickeries today certainly were for a good cause. She was sure he would frighten many small children if he walked around continually looking like that.

Mr. Richards turned his gaze once more to his friend and nodded his assent, following her from the room. She led him up the stairs and into the small parlor that had been paid for for the ladies use. Yet when she closed the door behind Mr. Richards, she did not hurry to find the troublesome Shakespearean poem. She simply leaned against the door and looked strangely at Mr. Richards.

Mr. Richards, was growing uncomfortable under her odd gaze. “The Shakespeare? Elaine?” He added when she did not answer his first question. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before stepping away from the door, her eyes still holding his.

“Jon… I lied,” she stated bluntly, worry escaping into her voice.

“You have? Well, what is the truth?”

She stepped closer to him. “I need your help Jon. Very badly. If you refuse to help me, I… I don't know what I'll do!” There was an edge to her voice that alarmed him.

“Elaina, what is it? You can tell me. I'll help you with whatever it is. You should know that.” He had steered her to an arm chair during this speech and now knelt before her, looking up into her eyes.

“You promise you'll help?”

“Yes, of course. With anything.”

Only now did she allow herself a tiny smile. She had him. He could not back out of a promise. Though she thoroughly hoped he didn't despise her for manipulating him so after this was all done. But surely he would not fault her scheme. Surely he would see the romantic conclusion it would help to bring about. With a heavy intake of breath, she began. “As you know, Mr. Darcy is refusing to marry Elizabeth now.”

Mr. Richards was momentarily caught off guard. Why was she talking about Miss. Bennet and Mr. Darcy? “Yes, he told us the wedding was called off. He did not however, say why. Do you perhaps know this little detail?”

She smiled again, and told him of Miss. Bennet's father's untimely arrival. She could see by the confusion on his face that he did not know the whole Elizabeth, Darcy, bridenapping story, and she did not think it imperative to tell him at the moment. Besides, he might steal the story for his own. And she fully intended to use it herself. But creative writing aside, it had come time for her to take him up on his promise.

“That is why I need your help,” she ended.

Mr. Richards looked almost disappointed. Scenes of heroes and knights rescuing distressed damsels had ridden through his head ever since she had first asked for his help. And now it appeared that she wasn't even the one in distress! “How can I help, Elaina?”

“Now Jon, remember that you promised.” She once again pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. His silence beckoned her to continue. “We must get married,” she exclaimed before she could even form the right words in her mind. And oh! How wrong it had all come out! She clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. She closed her eyes abruptly, not wanting to see his reaction to her words.

Silence. She did not open her eyes. “That came out wrong. Oh I'm so sorry.” She tried to chuckle her eyes closed, but it came out rather despairingly. “What I meant to say was that-“ and she was cut off by the feeling of hands wrapping around her arms. She risked opening her eyes when the hands, presumably Mr. Richards, had pulled her to a standing position, oh so close to him. He was not much taller than she, and she looked him straight in the eye. What was in them stopped her heart, sent shivers up her spin and made her breath catch in her throat. The kind of reactions she wrote about before the heroine tragically dies (or her lover does), and loneliness once again descends on the world.

But this was real, not fiction, and Elizabeth and Darcy and the wedding that was not to be had been swept completely from her mind. For one split second, Elaina thought that Jon was going to lean in and kiss her. And he did. And all thought was also swept from her mind.

When he raised his lips from hers, he found her eyes closed, and nudged her chin up a bit with his thumb to coerce her into opening them. He was glad, relieved, when she did. For along with confusion and shock, he found excitement and longing in them as well. “Yes, we must.”

“Excuse me?” said Elaine. She wasn't sure she could form or understand a coherent sentence at this point.

“I was just agreeing with you. Though I never hoped to ask you, to receive your approval, I never once thought that you might ask me! It is all very improper you know, but we are both forward thinkers are we not?” He looked down at her jubilantly. She was rather jubilant herself, hearing his words, knowing for sure, for the first time, that he might love her as she had him all these years. But of course, she had not meant to ask him to marry her. And if she did not tell him this, then Elizabeth's plan would not work. And even if she did wish to stay like this forever, she was on something of a short schedule.

“We must be at the church by noon!” she exclaimed, realizing once more that she had not said exactly what she should have said. She rushed on, not giving him the time to do anything. “No, no, that came out all wrong as well,” she said, pulling herself from his arms and walking to a safe distance across the room. “Let me explain. First I will say that I most definitely would like to explore… that,” she faltered, not being able to come up with a sufficient word for their kiss. “But not just yet. We must get to the church soon. Elizabeth is determined to marry Darcy and he will not because of, oh I don't know why! But she will have her way with this Jon, and I mean to help her. And you promised me anything! And so you have to help me!”

Richards' eyes, which had previously held uncontained joy, switched coldly to confusion and then restrained anger as her words tumbled forth. At least she had said that she would be open to exploring the kiss. And he knew she would, he had seen it in her eyes. So putting that all behind him, for now, he tried to make sense of her declaration. “And why must we go to the church?” he asked calmly.

“Why, to get the preacher of course.”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “It is ten past eleven. We have plenty of time till twelve. Why not explain this plan to me more thoroughly?”

She leapt across the room and yanked at his arm, pulling him towards the door. I'll explain on the way over there. We don't have nearly as much time as you think!” Perplexed, he followed her out of the door, hoping that she would prove good on her vow to explain to him on the way to the church. When they stepped out onto the street, he took her hand through the crook of his arm, pulling her just a little bit closer than he might have dared to before. She looked up at him, noticing the slight change, and smiled brilliantly.

Chapter 16

Posted on Friday, 28 January 2005

For the second time in an hour, there came a knocking on the study door Darcy was sulking behind.

“Good God, I just wish to be left alone,” he agonized to his companion in misery, Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones did not answer him, simply bid the new intruder enter.

“My dear,” said Mrs. Jones to her husband upon entering the room, “Mr. Darcy,” she said, ultimately locking eyes with the younger man. “Sir, you must come with me now. I'm afraid something terrible has happened. Elizabeth-“

But she was cut off. “Elizabeth! Is she alright? Where is she? Tell me woman!” he roared at last, losing quickly whatever patience he might have started out with.

Rachel Jones succeeded in schooling her smile. It would not do at the moment. For though Mr. Darcy might not notice her amusement in all his fury and agitation, her husband surely would, and then his sharp mind might put two and two together. But would he disapprove? Or did he wish as she did that Darcy would not be so self sacrificing. It was not a romantic thing to do at all! But Darcy's right eye was now twitching and she was afraid he might grab her and shake her at any moment.

“She went to The Anne. She meant to go speak with her father, to make him see her side of things, to show him that she truly loved you and was happy with you. But… her father…” Mrs. Jones' words trailed off, leaving the rest to Mr. Darcy's currently very active imagination. His eyes widened. She took up where she left off. “He will not let her leave the boat. He has paid your ship's crew off handsomely to keep her there as prisoner. Your captain however refused to follow any orders but your own sir. Rene went with her, and escaped the boat before Elizabeth could, bringing word to me of all that had transpired.”

Darcy darted from the room, no word or thought foremost in his mind but an achingly sweet image of his Elizabeth branded there. He had given up pirating only to find that he might have to actually put the self declared title to purpose. For surely he would have to use all his pirate trickery to board a boat of hired thugs and recapture what he had rightfully stolen in the first place.

It is a testimony to Darcy's somewhat harried state of mind that he did not merely think of offering an even larger sum of money to the ships' crew and skewering them with one of him infamous Darcy Glances. Fear for one much beloved can do strange things to man and woman.

It did not take long to reach the village's small port. And when he did, looking striking and windblown atop his black horse, he was rather confused. The Anne did not look like a well-guarded prison. He wondered if he walked up on deck if he would be stopped or not. Was not the easiest way most likely the best? And didn't his swaggering pirate arrogance demand he make fools of them all by simply sweeping aboard in broad daylight? Yes!

A faint chime of church bells struck the hour: noon. An appropriate time for a dramatic confrontation. And so Darcy dismounted and mounted a look of cold fury and imposing confidence upon his face. He did indeed sweep aboard the ship, daring all nonexistent threats to step his way. But once on the ship's neat deck he was all alone.

Except for Elizabeth. She stood, a mischievous spark at the corners of her smile, at the curve of the front of the boat. It didn't take long for Darcy to reach her side and take her possessively into his arms, his gaze still sweeping warily and guardedly two and fro.

“Elizabeth, my lovely Elizabeth, you have not been hurt. Are you ready to escape?” he asked her, finally coming to look into her eyes. Strangely, he noticed a spark of mischief there as well.

No, Mr. Darcy, I do not need to escape.”

He frowned down at her, and she tamed her hint of a smile into a look that was quite serious. She stepped from his arms, placed her fists on her hips and looked up his imposing height with defiance in her eyes.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, I, Elizabeth the Conqueror, bold pirate Queen of the seven seas, have commandeered your vessel, have coerced your men to my side, and have kidnapped a most famous pirate.”

He stared, baffled by her words and the laughing delight that shined from her fine eyes.

“A pirate queen must, logically, have a pirate for her king! You, Dread Pirate Darcy,” she said with a sneer and a smirk, “have refused to marry me, leaving me to take drastic measures. I must tell you sir, that in this matter, I will have my way.” She thought for a second. A sparkling, tense silence filled the air between and around them. “Consider yourself kidnapped sir!”

Oh how he wanted to laugh at her. Oh how he wanted to take her in his arms an squeeze her (in frustration as much as in joy). “But Elizabeth, you must understand that-“

She stopped him. “No. We can talk later. It is past noon. We've not much time. Rene,” she spoke, looking over his shoulder, “please bring Pastor Ryans out. The groom has arrived.”

Mr. Bennet spotted the church just as the bells struck noon. He should have found it much sooner, but his agitation had interfered with his navigational skills, and he had lost himself on the narrow, uncomplicated streets of the tiny seaside village more times than seemed possible.

He rushed at the door… only to find it locked. Quickly, he ran around to the side of the dusty white building and found a window situated close to the ground. The window stood at the back of the church, and Mr. Bennet's gaze traveled up the isle balanced on each side by simple wooden pews and to the couple that stood just below a preacher.

Elizabeth's dark curls hung loose in back, and Darcy's arms hung to his sides. If the enraged father had paid more attention to the pair, he might have noticed that the woman before him was a tad tall to be Elizabeth, and that the presumed Darcy's hair was straight, without the wavy disarray that the master of Pemberley's hair often fell into; that the man's frame was slighter, the woman's hair a slightly different shade.

But, being an agitated father, he noticed none of this, and instead, flew into a fury. Rushing back towards the door, he banged loudly with his fists, paying no heed to the pain the useless pummeling sent up his arms. He yelled, loudly, angrily: “Unhand my daughter villain! I will never forgive you Elizabeth! Never!”

Mr. Bennet though, as we know, was not a silly man. He knew when he was beaten. Walking back now, a dejected slump to his step, he moved back to the window. When Elizabeth exited this church, it would be as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet, her father's favorite, replaced by Elizabeth Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley. He gazed in the window once more, but could not stomach to watch even the couple's backs as the ceremony was silently performed. He could not hear the words, but they reverberated in his mind nonetheless. He turned his back to the scene and once again walked to the church door.

Should he go back to the boat?

Should he stay here to see his daughter?

No, she was no longer his daughter. She was Darcy's wife. “I am very much alright,” she had said to him happily. She had fallen in love with a good, sensible man. But Mr. Bennet had never wanted his daughter to fall in love. Love was fine for Jane, and lust for the other three silly girls he'd produced, but not for Lizzy. She was a sensible creature. And love was simply not a sensible emotion. It assuredly made its victims insensible. He knew! He had loved his wife when he'd married her. Or… perhaps that had been lust.

Such musings occupied the fretful father while much lighter subject matter was being discussed at the alter inside the church. The “preacher,” a young man who'd not yet taken his vows, and therefore did not have the power to exercise any marriage vows, was fascinated with his guests. He had read what there was to read of Jonathan Richards' work and admired it very much. He asked questions of both young writers as they stood in the charade of a marriage pose, and cast furtive, curious glanced toward Elaina. Jonathan did not like this, and frowned everytime the young clergyman's eyes skimmed over his friend. At one point, he took Elaina's hand possessively and stared pointedly at the clergyman.

“I… I'm sorry for staring Miss. Jones, Mr. Richards,” he stammered. “It's just that the resemblance is amazing!” He turned to face Jonathan more than Elaina. “Surely this is the “woman whose shadow lurks in my heart,” he said, quoting a line from one of Richard' more desperate works. “I am sorry sir, for you are such an original and imaginative writer but… all your leading ladies carry the same physical attributes and… she is just it! Dark hair and eyes and skin, obviously intelligent with some sort of mysterious quality about her. Surely it is no coincidence!”

Elaina turned her attention from the clergyman to Jonathan. He was blushing! Had he written her into his stories? If he had, it sounded as if he had been more than kind in describing her.

But hadn't she done the same with him? Hadn't someone fitting his description fit into each one of her stories? She blushed now, feeling silly for fixating on him so. He was real, and faulty, and human just like her.

But was the young clergyman right? She locked her eyes with his, and after an eternity of sparking silence, Jonathan spoke. “What time is it?”

The clergyman answered, “Half past the hour sir.”

“Do you think it's safe?” asked Elaina, turning around to stare at the double doors at the end of the long isle, wishing that she could have seen what might have come from that sparking tension. He had been acting differently towards her since her slip of the tongue at the inn. He had kissed her. And that had certainly never happened before. Now he walked down the church isle and carefully opened the door. Stepping out into the bright afternoon sun, he turned his head this way and that, looking for persons of potentially enraged demeanors. After all, he was playing Darcy, the man Mr. Bennet would hate after today. Not a good role for my own safety, thought Mr. Richards vaguely.

Unexpectedly, Elaina was at his side. “Is it safe, do you think?”

“It seems to be so,” replied Richards.

“Do you think it worked? Do you think we deterred him? Do you think Elizabeth and Darcy had enough time?”

“I'm quite sure they have. Only… I'm not so sure if Elizabeth would be able to coerce him into marrying her. He has very specific feelings on this matter Elaina.”

“She's giving him no choice Jon. If they have had time, then they are married, mark my words,” she said, smirking up at him.

He frowned in reply. “You always think you know more than me don't you Elaina?”

“Why yes, Jonny me boy. But it is only because I do. Matter of fact-“

Lips crashed down on lips and Elaina was effectively stopped from saying whatever it was she had been about to say. Actually, she was effectively stopped from thinking whatever it was she had been about to say. In all truth, she was stopped from thinking of anything at all.

Jonathan lifted his head and studied her face, her reaction.

“Mr. Richards, what was that for? I did not propose to you.”

“No, but really you did not propose to me the first time either. Or, you did not mean to. I…” He stopped, realizing belatedly that they were in full public view. Pulling her back into the church and shutting the doors behind them, he asked the young clergyman (who had seen the tableau outside the church and had promptly acted as if the church was in dire need of cleaning) to leave them in private. The young man did so quite promptly.

“Elaina, I think of you as my very best friend. Even after all these years apart, you are still dearer to me than anyone I met in London, or anyone I left in America. And I only left because you were so persistent that I should follow my dream, that at least one of us should succeed in the world. I knew you had no feelings for me then, and it broke my heart, and so I left.” He was across the isle from her, his hands placed firmly on the back of the last wooden pew, staring strongly at something ahead of him.

“I? I broke your heart? But if that's the case, then that implies that you loved me then.”

“I did. I do.” It was hard for him to say it. He hadn't said it all those years ago because he had been scared of losing the friendship he so loved. But now he knew that the chance of something more with her was more important to him than the friendship he had left in America.

Darcy had said to take what he wanted, to conquer fear and chase his dreams until he attained them… or until they melted pleasantly into his arms, murmuring “yes” to one all important question. A determined gleam lit his eyes and he took one large step over the isle to take Elaina once more in his arms.

“You confuse me Richards. Until this afternoon, you never so much as offered me your hand to help me from a seat!”

“It's because I knew I couldn't take it. It is because I knew I'd pull you here, into my arms, and then you'd slap me and never speak to me again.”

This revelation certainly shocked the elder Jones girl. When she'd regained her composure enough to speak, it was to settle his fears. “I have not slapped you yet have I? And you've done quite a bit more than hold me in your arms.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I know. And it's brought me to a wonderful conclusion too.”

“Oh has it? And that is, sir?”

“That you will marry me.” He bravely rested his forehead against hers, refusing to let anxiety and doubt creep into his heart. She would not still be here with him if she was going to reject him. He was quite sure of this.

And he was quite right. Elaina said nothing, but it was not for lack of anything good to say, she simply didn't know what to say first. “When?” was what finally came out.

He kissed her again.

Chapter 17

Posted on Monday, 14 February 2005

The couple that left the church was not Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of this Mr. Bennet was quite sure. This girl's skin was darker, her dark hair streaked with auburn in the sunlight. The boy was not as wide in the shoulders nor as tall as Mr. Darcy.

The patriarch of the estrogenic Bennet family was quite perplexed. He knew that Elizabeth had said twelve. He had been at the church at twelve, however, and the couple that had emerged from the building was not his daughter and her kidnapper.

He followed them. He didn't know why, it was a feeling he had. Somehow he wasn't surprised when they led him back to Darcy's boat, The Anne. He stopped a distance from the ship, hiding behind a conveniently stopped coach. He had a good view of the boat, and the group of people on its deck. The dark haired couple he'd confused as Elizabeth and Darcy stood close together, the unexpected target of curious looks and demanding glares. The blonde woman who had been on the boat with him was smiling as she clung to a tall man's arm. The tall man was the one glaring horribly at the dark haired couple. Being a disapproving father, Mr. Bennet easily recognized the ambivalence on the man's face. Another young girl, close in resemblance to the female counterpart of the dark haired couple, stood leaning against the ship's railing, a small boy at her side.

And there was Elizabeth. She stood smiling, a radiance glowing from her face that he had never seen before. He realized with a deadening of his heart that it was the man who had his arms around her waist that inspired this joy in his daughter. It was Mr. Darcy. Had he actually wished to keep this from his daughter? Had he actually wished her to be miserable the rest of his life? He blushed at the thought, shame staining his cheeks a bright red, down casting his eyes to his shoes. He realized with horribly clarity how bad of a father he was being, how selfish he was acting. He knew what he needed to do.

With slow, dragging step, Mr. Bennet walked up the gangplank.

Darcy's arms tightened abruptly around Elizabeth, pulling her protectively to his side. Elizabeth looked up startled into her new husband's face and frowned. His eyes gazed fiercely at something in the near distance, his mouth pulled tight, and his eyebrows knit together. She turned to see what he was glaring at, only to see her father's slumped shoulders trudging up the gangplank. She pulled Darcy's hands from her hips and pushed herself from his arms, silencing him with a hard look. She walked to her father and taking his hand, lead him to where Darcy stood.

“Father… I would like you to meet my husband.” She knew her words sounded silly, that her hopes were futile, that her father would likely strike her husband and both would throw each other off the ship in the battle that would ensue. She hoped that Mr. Jones and Mr. Richards would be able to handle the situation. She stepped aside then, praying that each man might extend his hand in, if not friendship, then at least truce.

Long minutes passed. Long minutes that were lengthened even more by the beating of her heart in her chest, her throat, her ears. The two men stared stonily at one another, each suspicious about the other's actions.

Mr. Bennet extended his hand, and warily, Darcy grasped it.

“You make my daughter happy, and though I personally cannot see how, I know that Elizabeth is an intelligent woman, and I trust her judgment. Though you did not have my blessing before, you have it now, though I know it means nothing to you.” The old man quieted on these last words, his eyes, which had once held Darcy's, now moved to the side, gazing out to sea. He dropped his hand to his side.

Elizabeth took it in her own, smiling up at her father. “Thank you,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Thank you Father. Your blessing does matter. You've no idea how much it matters papa.”

He looked down into his daughters face. She still loved him. She still respected and needed him. Though she was married to a very worthy, handsome, intelligent and noble man, it changed nothing about the way she felt for him, her father.

He pulled her into his arms and sobbed silently into her ear, “I'm sorry Lizzy. So very, very sorry my dear.” They remained locked in their embrace for some time, surrounded by the curious silence of the onlookers.

When he felt composed, Mr. Bennet pulled away and straightened himself. He turned to address his new son in law. “I would like to join in any festivities that might go on tonight… if you will have me.”

“Of course we will,” spoke Darcy without a moment's hesitation. You are my wife's father, and for her, you are welcome in my house.

The guards posted at the gangplank had not let her on the boat. No one, they told her, was to board after Mr. Darcy had. They had been direct orders from the pretty young girl with sparkling brown eyes and bouncing dark curls.

So Caroline had watched the ceremony with cold rage from the back of a deserted cart. She knew she could not gain access to the boat without creating a scene. She would not create a scene! It was simply not something Caroline Bingley did. She did not stay to see the rather complying kidnapped groom stoop to kiss the lips of his new wife. She had, instead, began her plan of action. Darcy and the country wench were legally married now, but was her life over? Were her plans ruined? No! Caroline Bingley was nothing if not resilient. With this in mind, she went off in search of the fastest boat in dock. She would reach England by tomorrow night, Rosings by the next morning, and within two more days, have the righteously indignant and overly repellant Collins as her ally.

Caroline, though usually sensible, could not admit defeat in this case. For by the time she returned with Collins at her side, the marriage act, considering the excited impatience of not only Darcy, but Elizabeth as well, was quite likely to have taken place already. Several times… if Darcy had anything to do with it… which he most certainly did.

Darcy stepped into the carriage and pulled the dark curtains over the windows. Taking a deep breath, he sat across from his wife, wishing to talk first. For he knew that once he touched her, there would be no time for talking, no breath for it. He had nearly carried her away into one of the Anne's rooms when he had kissed her to end the ceremony. To control himself, he concentrated on his wife's smiling eyes.

“Are you alright with going back to the house?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I prefer it. We would take up every single room in that small inn if our small army insisted on staying there. But… surely you did not have to hire another carriage. We might have just borrowed your messenger's horse for my father to ride, and traveled back the same way we traveled here.”

“With me on a horse and you in a carriage with silly young girls and an injured young boy? No. Besides, Mrs. Jones is better suited to ride in there. They do not have a governess any longer. Their mother has returned.” He smiled. She had traded the title of governess for that of Mrs. Darcy. It was the most wonderful thing in the world… though it had taken a deuced long time in happening!

“Yes, but there is still room for me, if Hinton sat on one of our laps. And then you would only have had to get the horse for father,” countered the ever sensible Elizabeth.

“Madam pirate… I would not expect someone who has just forced a man into marriage to not want to be alone with him. You should be asserting your superiority over me. Am I your slave now? Is that why you've captured me?”

She laughed musically and Darcy almost vaulted out of his seat to take her into his arms. But, clinching his fists, kept his position across from her. “William… Dread Pirate Darcy, you are not my captive, not my slave. You are my husband. And since I am the Pirate Queen, you are now my King, and we shall have to rule the high seas ruthlessly together. It's just that…”

“Yes Elizabeth? You can tell me anything.”

“It's just that you must stay over on that side of the carriage.”

Darcy erupted in jovial laughter and Elizabeth scowled when it seemed that he could not stop.

“I do not see that anything is funny Mr. Darcy!”

He answered her in between bursts of laughter and gasps for breath. “Oh my dear Elizabeth, do you mean that you do not feel it quite safe to be alone in a carriage with your husband?!”

She blushed. How could she not! “It's just that. Darcy… you cannot begin to understand how I love you I believe. And I'm afraid that if you kiss me… then I will not want you to stop. And… nothing about our marriage or courtship has been typical, traditional, normal. And I find that it does not bother me as much as I thought it would… only… I'd like for our wedding night to be very special. And a carriage does not strike me as a wonderfully romantic place to make love!” She ended with her eyes boring into his, daring him to make fun of her.

“Elizabeth, I would never… I could never… do you think so low of me?”

“Well, you are very passionate, and very impulsive.”

Darcy wanted to laugh, but did not want to step on the sensibilities of his new wife. “Those seem to be characteristics I've only just recently developed. You seem to have triggered the passionate, impulsive side of me, dear heart.

“But you've nothing to worry about. I've a surprise for you… for tonight. It's a place I've dreamed of us being man and wife in… and it is the only place I wish to take you to tonight. Until then, you are completely safe from me.”

“Completely safe?” she asked, her face changing from serious to playful in an instant.

“Of course! Do you doubt me?” he said, playfully indignant.

“No. And to prove my trust… come sit by me my husband. I find that I would like to spend the remainder of our trip with your arm about my shoulders.”

And of course Darcy was helpless to resist. She was, after all, the pirate queen, and a mere pirate king was nothing to the charms and wiles of his woman. Moving to her side, he pulled her frame against his own and slipped his arm about her gently sloping shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyelids pulled softly down over her fine eyes. The eyes that had first attracted him to her. They were his now. She was his! How had he been so lucky? He kissed her gently yet possessively, and then with a contented sigh, she rested her head upon his shoulder, and closed her eyes to sleep. It had after all, been quite an eventful day.

Elaina and Richards had somehow connived to deprive Mr. Bennet from his horse, setting him up quite comfortably inside the other carriage in Elaina's stead. Elaina had only ever ridden a horse twice in her life, but found that if was something she wished thoroughly to know how to do, and well. So she listened patiently to the commands given her by her riding companion, oblivious to the curious stares her own father was cutting towards her.

When Richards was quite sure that she had the hang of it, and was not going to fall to her doom, he paced his horse beside her, and they dropped a considerable distance behind the carriages and Mr. Jones, who was leading the party.

“Elaina… May I speak with your father… about us?” Jonathan's voice was timid, quiet, unsure, and the deep timbre of it made Elaine blush and sigh deeply all at once.

“Please do. Tonight?”

“Yes! If the opportunity arises… most certainly!”

“What about right now? He's alone, and has nothing to do, nothing to otherwise occupy his attentions. It's perfect Jonboy. You cannot say no.”

He frowned his disagreement, but looking from her determined playful eyes to her father riding ahead alone, he realized that she was right. Now was the perfect time. And he was sure that her father was not blind, nor a fool. He was quite aware that there was something between his daughter and Mr. Darcy's secretary… the impoverished amateur writer. Impoverished… surely Mr. Jones would not mind. But… did Richards himself mind? He would not be able to provide for the girl he loved; he would not be able to give her the comfortable life that her father had given her. She would be back at square one with him… thrown back into the poverty she had lived in when she lived with her mother.

She was still watching him, pushing him to make his intentions known to her father. He threw her a weak smile and pushed his horse forward.

Mr. Jones's shoulders were broad, strong, as if he had spent his life doing battle, and would at any moment be poised to re-enter it. Had the battle he had fought been for his daughters? Would he still wage wars on their behalves? Richards somehow knew he would.

“Mr. Jones… I wish to speak with you sir.”

“I've expected this Richards. You may, of course, have your say, but I will speak first. And you will listen.” The two men rode side by side, staring forward into the shaded unknown of the tree lined road.

“Yes, of course sir.”

“You wish for the hand of my daughter Elaina. Is that right?”

Richards nodded his answer, and Mr. Jones's head shifted ever so slightly to see it. “I thought so. I assume Elaina has told you our story. Indeed, she never leaves a story untold. So I assume that you realize that I have only just regained my daughters. I'd not seen my Elaina for thirteen years, and was only able to have her with me as a part of my life for a year now. She would not leave with me without her sister. And I did not want to leave without Rene either. I wonder… do you appreciate your talks with her as I do? Do you marvel at her wit and feel pride at her beauty?

“But these are unfair questions. You are not her father. You cannot feel the same way for her that I do.

“You are a good man Jonathan Richards. And I believe that you have my daughter's best interests at heart. You may marry my daughter. I ask but one thing.” He ended, now turning fully to face the young man riding beside him. His face was grave, his brown eyes young and vital once more, refusing to be denied. The man, thought Richards, could have a vicious temper is provoked.

“Anything sir. Anything for Elaina's hand.” And he meant it.

“I would tell you not to be scared, but I find that I want you that way concerning my daughter. I will not see her hurt or lacking in any way. And since I believe that denying you in her life would hurt her immeasurably, I cannot, I will not do it. But I must insist that you have a long engagement.”

“That's all!” exclaimed Richards with much relief. Truthfully, he would prefer a quick marriage much like Mr. Darcy and Miss. Elizabeth…Mrs. Darcy now… but if a long engagement was the only thing that Elaina's father asked of him…

Chapter 18

Posted on Saturday, 9 April 2005

Merely a week had passed since Mr. And Mrs. Darcy's disappearance into the secluded cabin located somewhere on Mr. Darcy's vast Scottish estate. While it is not polite to dwell on the intimate dealings of any two people, it is important to note that Darcy was not disappointed in the reality of his previous daydreams involving Elizabeth and said cabin. Undeniably, the daydreams could not live up to the reality of leaping flames in the fireplace, tingling wine, and dancing eyes. Therefore, it was with heavy hearts that Darcy and his new wife set out to leave their honeymoon hideaway. They would liked to have had a considerably longer honeymoon, but due to the unusual circumstances surrounding their marriage, decided that the increased activity at Darcy's residence and the complete lack of knowledge on the Bennet family's half, were pressing situations indeed.

Walking up the wide steps arm in arm, they were at first unaware of the increasing noises emanating from the previously serene house (Perhaps they had simply become accustomed to the very loud “disagreements of the Jones sisters). But when the undeniable sound of smashing glass accosted their ears, they simultaneously broke into a mad dash to reach the offenders quickly. The sounds of fighting, for fighting it surely was, came from a small sitting room to the side of the entrance. The door stood wide open; servants peeked cautiously in, wishing to see the commotion, but not wishing to be hit by various flying objects in the process. Darcy and Elizabeth did not wait to enter the room cautiously, instead they charged into the room, Darcy taking in the scene in one quick second. The room was split. Mr. Richards stood on one side of the room, valiantly attempting to hold back a raging Rene while casting worried glances at his new fiancé who stood, hands on hips, glaring ominously at the occupants of the other side of the room. Darcy was not sure, as he was sure Richards was not sure, that Elaina was not going to do more than just glare. She seemed perched on the edge of violent action. However, since her younger sister had already toppled over said edge, it was more important to make sure her flailing fists and kicking knees did not come in contact with the object (or objects) of their desire.

The occupants of the other side of the room were astonishing to say the least. Darcy had not thought that such a cataclysm was possible. Surely some demon in hell had set his store against him for there was no other way in which this combination of… annoyances to say it lightly, could ever come together. Or perhaps, thought Darcy uncharacteristically lightly, it was fated for such unwelcome and wholly unappealing personages to unite. For unite they had. And a more unholy and frightening triumvirate could certainly not be found, for the combined powers of Caroline Bingley, William Collins, and Lady Catherine De Bourgh stood aghast on the other side of the room.

Darcy spared a quick look for Elizabeth who looked exceedingly shocked one second, then exceedingly amused the next. And truthfully, Elizabeth was not over worried. Had perhaps this trio arrived a week and a day earlier, before she had secured her beloved husband, she might have felt worry, dread even, but as it was, she could not be harmed. Unless, that is, this combined threat had called upon some unearthly powers to gain their wills. But that, of course, was highly unlikely.

“Darcy!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, ever in charge as always. “Call away these heathens! They say they are guests in your home, but you obviously would not allow such wild chits to abide under your roof!” She had apparently decided to deal with the most immediate threat first.

“You evil old hag!” exclaimed Rene before anyone could comment. “Elizabeth! She's here to tear you from Mr. Darcy! And to… to… to give you to him!” she cast a disgusted and accusatory finger in Mr. Collins' direction. “And she,” now the finger turned towards Caroline, “means to have Mr. Darcy for herself!”

“Will you allow such blatant disrespect for myself Darcy! Will you? Will you! Surely you will see to her immediate removal from this premise! Do not fret with it! I can do it for myself!” At that, she began to screech the name of some unknown servant.

“Aunt Catherine!” Bellowed Darcy, attempting to gain control of the overwhelming situation. “The commotion shall desist this very moment!” If the racket made within the house had not been heard for miles, surely Mr. Darcy's voice had. Silence inevitably ensued this loud command, and strangely (but perhaps not so strange), triumphant grins grew upon the lips of all in the room, except for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy who were quite perturbed by the disturbance.

Lady Catherine's triumphant mien was spurred by the idea that her nephew was about to call off those wild monsters in the form of young girls and he hope that he would soon renounce the pretty young lady on his arm and throw her to the man she was really supposed to be married to. Lady Catherine of course, was soon to be disappointed, for with a fierce gaze, her own nephew turned on her!

“Aunt Catherine, what is the meaning of this? You have never stepped foot in Scotland in your life, and now you come not only into a foreign land, but into my home?!”

“Your home is my home Darcy! I do not know what you mean by all this!” she sent a worried glance toward Rene and Elaina. “Send those things from the room this instant!”

“What things?” inquired Elizabeth. “The chairs, the tables, the pictures perhaps?” Elizabeth knew she should not tease the old lady so, but her wicked streak had a habit of appearing at the most inopportune moments.

“What things indeed! Those monsters! Those girls!”

“Oh. Rene and Elaina? I am quite sure, Lady Catherine, that they take great exception to being referred to as `things.' But I believe you are right in the matter.” Darcy looked at his wife, startled, as did all in the room.

“William,” she spoke to her husband, “I believe I shall take both Miss. Jones' into their room and speak with them.”

Darcy looked confused at first. He couldn't figure out whether she was separating the two opposing factions, attempting to find some peace, or if she was simply abandoning him to the cold mercy of his aunt. “Yes…I shall come to you later.” He smiled at her as she walked from the room ushering the two taller young ladies in front of her. Strangely, thought Darcy, they had not uttered a single protest.

Darcy turned his attention to his young secretary who now stood purposeless in the middle of the room. Stooping to a small desk, he dipped an idle pen into an inkwell and scratched quickly across a blank sheet of paper. “Mr. Richards, thank you for your assistance during my absence, but you are free to go now. I must speak with my aunt alone. Before you run off to console your fiancé however, I would have you send a messenger to the village.” With these words, Darcy handed the neatly folded paper to Mr. Richards.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” spoke Richards succinctly while bowing gracefully. He turned on one well-polished heel, a move he had learned by studying his new boss and mentor Mr. Darcy, and swept from the room.

Darcy then turned to the Trying Triumvirate. “Aunt Catherine, Caroline, Mr. Collins, I give you leave to explain your presence on my estate, and then I will ask you to quickly take your departure.”

“That was the man Elizabeth! The one you told us of, whom Mr. Darcy saved you from! Oh Elizabeth he's so ugly!” Rene was quick to release her excited thoughts as Elizabeth closed the heavy door of the girls' sitting room behind them.

“Rene, that's unfair. It's not so much that he's… well… Well Elizabeth I must be honest, if not so cruelly so as Rene, but that Mr. Collins is certainly not the most attractive man. Not near as handsome as Mr. Darcy.” Rene snorted as if in disbelief that Elaina could even make such a comparison. “But it's not so much that he's… not handsome, than that he's such a fool. The things he said, the way he coddled up to that horrid old woman and that skinny snobbish woman. It's quite clear she's a fortune hunter Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth was trying hard to keep her smile from her lips. The American girls' candidness was fresh and most certainly appealing. They certainly were not prone to simpering praise as many young girls were of those higher in society, and they were also not prone to giving a benefit of a doubt to those undeserving of good opinions. They were not like her dear sister Jane, and not at all like any of her other sisters, though before she might have regarded Rene as close to Lydia in personality.

In the end she lost the battle with the corners of her lips and they pulled upward into an undeniably impish grin. “I should scold both of you for saying such things.” But as she had often thought them herself, she knew she wouldn't. “Now,” she said, plopping rather inelegantly into a nearby chair, “what exactly happened in there?”

Rene looked to her older sister, the experienced storyteller, to relay the events as they had happened.

“Rene and I were in the Library with Jonathan when we heard a carriage roll across the gravel out front. We didn't really think much of it until that woman, Lady Catherine, came bursting through the doors, demanding to see her `revered nephew,' the distinguished, and obviously in trouble, Mr. Darcy. When she spied us lounging rather languidly about the furniture she demanded to know who we were and what we were doing in her nephew's house. Of course we told her that our father was a close friend of Mr. Darcy and that he was away at the moment, with his wife. With you.”

“Oh Elizabeth,” interrupted Rene, “she was so angry! She kept demanding to know exactly who Elizabeth Bennet was, and was beside herself that `this Bennet girl cannot be of any social standing if I've never heard of her!' And then that odious Miss. Bingley started in about how countrified you were, how inelegant and unrefined. `Hardly a beauty!' said she, among other insults. She said that you were to go back and marry Mr. Collins, the greasy man standing beside her, because Mr. Darcy had been gravely mistaken. She said you were nothing more than a wench of a fortune hunter!”

“And that's when Rene ran at her,” said Elaina matter of factly.

“Rene ran at Miss. Bingley?! To attack her?!” exclaimed a not so surprised Elizabeth. Ashamedly, her exclamation was more out of amusement than any real surprise.

“Yes! She did! But then Jonathan pulled her back before she could crawl over the couch that stood between her and Miss. Bingley.”

Elizabeth wanted to chuckle at the image of Rene crawling, skirts and all, over the couch in the library to bowl over a defenseless Miss. Bingley. “Well that was quick thinking on Mr. Richards' part.”

Elaina agreed with an emphatic nod of her head before continuing. “And that's when you and Mr. Darcy made you fortunate entrance. Had you not appeared… Jonathan would not have been able to hold both of us back I'm afraid.”

“Yes, I doubt he would,” agreed Elizabeth.

“You have stolen Mr. Collins' wife nephew. I demand you return her.” She did not wait for Mr. Darcy to answer, but continued as if simply making known the disorganized thoughts of her mind. “But I assume you will refuse to do what is most sensible. But it is not your fault that a conniving temptress has ensnared you. A virtuous, chaste young man can only hold out for so long.”

Darcy, whose countenance was growing an ever brighter shade of red as his aunt called his wife a “conniving temptress” was thrown totally off guard by her next comment regarding his weak state of chastity. A state that, if had not been remedied by youthful indiscretions, was most certainly, after the last week in a secluded cottage with Elizabeth Bennet, no longer a problem for him. He blanched, his eyes widened, and all powers of speech failed him. His aunt was referring to… and she had called Elizabeth…! He would not dignify her remarks with an answer, and simply waited for her to finish, for she was still talking.

“I've no doubt that I can obtain whatever annulment or papers that I need to. And if there is a child, we shall simply attribute it to Mr. Collins. You are both tall of stature and dark of looks.” Mr. Collins didn't look as if her was quite comfortable with the idea of taking credit for Mr. Darcy's progeny, but was confused by the fact that the idea came from the very lips of his patroness, the great condescending Lady Catherine DeBourg. Mr. Darcy certainly did not like the idea of his child being raised by that greasy amphibian of a man, and the set line of his jaw hardened into seemingly unbreakable stone, and the cold ice of his glare turned lethal, not that anyone in the room noticed, with the exception of Mr. Collins who was quite sure that Mr. Darcy felt just as unfavorable about Lady Catherine's idea as he did, or as he might have, had his patroness not been the one to recommend it, thought the poor parson confusedly. Lady Catherine went on. “And we shall tell all that that man was simply not you. You were at Rosings with me, not stealing a bride from the altar.”

Her rantings were absurd. Darcy could not fathom how she thought she could pull this elaborate lie off, but he suspected that she had finally found something beyond her great influence. He KNEW she had found something beyond her great influence, for nothing could make him give up his Elizabeth. With this thought, some of the anger he felt subsided, and his aunt's words sounded sillier than ever. Finally, he interrupted her.

“Aunt, you do not understand. Elizabeth is my wife until death do us part. I will not annul our marriage. I've no desire to anything of the sort! I bloody kidnapped her! I kidnapped her, and convinced her to marry me! Despite your slander of her character, Elizabeth is the most virtuous of women. I will not allow anyone who does so to remain in my home, our home.” His words were final, and though not punctuated by a finger pointing towards the door, should have been for all the steely purpose in them.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy! She is this man's wife!” Lady Catherine did point her finger, but towards the sweating, obviously uncomfortable Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins thought of reminding her that the wedding ceremony had never been finished, a fact she was should have been very well aware of, but Mr. Darcy was quicker than him.

“Aunt Catherine,” spoke Darcy, surprisingly calm, “She is Elizabeth Darcy, not Elizabeth Collins. She is my wife. I did not want to have to actually throw you from my house Aunt, but now I must ask you to leave. I am not sorry to Mr. Collins for abducting his bride, he and Elizabeth would never have suited one another, and I do not even want to know what part Miss. Bingley played in this great drama, but not a single one of you is welcome in my house.” With those final words, Darcy stomped towards the sitting room door. He had hardly exited the room however, when he felt a violent jerk on his arm. Swinging around, he came face to face with Miss. Caroline Bingley.

“Miss. Bingley, I suggest you tread carefully with whatever you have to say. I am in no humor to put up with your nonsense.”

“I am in disbelief sir. I was under the impression that we shared an understanding,” was her offended remark.

“An understanding? What have I ever done to prompt you to hold such beliefs?” He stood waiting for an answer, but of course, she could give him none.

“She is beneath you in every way. How can you possibly connect yourself with someone so lowly?” Her voice was heated now, angry.

“Lowly? Lower than me? How? In circumstance? In financial holdings? Perhaps. But in virtue, character, intelligence, humor? I think not. Your abundance of the aspects you find her so deficient in could never make up for your total lack of the qualities that make her dear to me.” He paused, letting the fury drain from his tone. It was not gentlemanly to say such things, though a pirate might. “I would not have said such things Miss. Bingley, had you not pursued them. I do not wish to overly grieve you, but perhaps you might come to learn exactly what traits are important, and which are not.” Ignoring her confounded gaze and drooping jaw, he pulled his arm from her grasp and turned towards the room he knew Elizabeth and the Jones girls would be.

Stopping to knock on the door to their sitting room, his eminent knock was momentarily halted by his butler, inelegantly rushing towards him.

“What is it?” he asked cautiously.

“Lady Catherine. She is refusing to leave, refuses to let her parson leave and the young lady.”

Darcy took this news without emotion except for the imperceptible hardening of his features: eyes, jaw, lips. “She refuses to leave,” he stated more for himself than as a confirmation with the butler of his aunt's actions.

“Yes sir.”

“Send word for preparations to begin immediately. My wife and I will be traveling home tomorrow. Pemberley awaits.”

---