Disclaimer: Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights do not belong to me. Period.
"An Unexpected Encounter"
Chapter Two: Too Long I Roamed in the Night
Thank heavens the wind has finally died down, thought Fitzwilliam Darcy as he surveyed the bleak landscape. He was already tense with worry over Elizabeth, and the wind had only exacerbated his anxiety. Either it had been whistling at him like an impudent schoolboy or shrieking like a murder victim. When its howling had ceased at last, he felt a profound relief.
He thought it incredible that his horse had yet to suddenly bolt and flee like Elizabeth's had. It had certainly been nervous, especially when in new, unknown territory with that godforsaken wind ringing in its ears, but had been sensible enough to trust him. Darcy wished that he could trust himself as strongly. He had been searching for his wife for half an hour and he still had not found her.
He clenched the reins tightly in frustration. He sincerely hoped that he was not lost or wandering aimlessly in the same direction. The monotony of the terrain and the darkness of the night made it difficult to tell. He futilely tried to recall what direction he had first taken and where he had gone from there.
His frustration at himself soon turned into frustration at Elizabeth. God Almighty – why did the woman have to be so stubborn? He had told her that the stallion that she had selected was not to be trusted; he had warned her that it was unruly and had yet to be properly trained. Yet she would not be satisfied until she had mounted it. Why? Was it for the thrill of the ride or the stallion itself? He did not know. If she had only not been so headstrong, then –
Darcy shook his head to clear his angry thoughts. What was he thinking? Elizabeth was probably alone and lost with nowhere to turn. It did not matter whose fault it had truly been. Blaming her or himself did not help matters at all. His frustration gave way to worried concern as he pictured her alone on the moors with only her horse for company. He had been racing across this area for so long that he had forgotten how cold the weather was. I must find her, he thought determinedly. He would not stop until he had done so.
As he continued to search, he could not help but notice how utterly deserted the area was. He did not find it hard to believe; he could not imagine how people could reside here. Certainly not with that blasted wind and the stormy sky that raged above. He allowed himself a small flight of fancy by absurdly imaging Pemberley in the middle of the moor. He strongly doubted that it would retain much of its appeal then, no matter how beautiful it was.
He was distracted from his thoughts by his horse suddenly whinnying. He looked to see what had caught his steed's attention and his heart raced. There was someone else on the moor! And by the looks of it, the figure appeared to be female! His heart thumping with happiness and relief, Darcy urged his horse to a gallop.
She did not notice him at first, but at the sound of the horse galloping toward her, raised her head to see who was coming. Darcy raced toward her and opened his mouth to call out to her. But Elizabeth's name soon died in his throat once he saw that she was not, in fact, his wife. Disappointment clouded his exhilaration, but did not completely dampen his hopes. Perhaps this young lady could help him find his wife, if she herself was not already lost.
The young lady, in question, was looking at him apprehensively, as though expecting him to carry her off with him. Feeling rather embarrassed by his mistake and by his overreaction which surely must have startled her, Darcy hastily paid her the usual polite greetings and inquired about his wife. His heart sank when the young lady replied that no, she had not seen anyone, aside from him.
"As a matter of fact, I myself am searching for someone," she said briskly. "I have not found him yet, but would you mind accompanying me? I know these parts well. Perhaps we shall encounter your wife at some point; she cannot be that far away."
Darcy readily agreed and offered to share his horse, but she laughingly refused. "Oh, no, I prefer to walk, though I dearly love riding! Come down from your horse. Is not the moor a wondrous place to roam?"
Darcy privately disagreed, but said nothing and dismounted. He held the reins in one hand as he began to walk alongside her. He quickly took note of her appearance: her clothes were of fine fashion, but were disheveled, her hair was tousled from the wind. She was rather pretty, he thought, but there was something about her that did not bode well with him. He did not know why; after all, she did offer to help him.
She turned to him impulsively. "You are being awfully rude, sir. Here I am, generously offering to find your wife for you, and you have not even introduced yourself."
Darcy was not alarmed by her bluntness, since he was accustomed to hearing Elizabeth speak as such. "I beg your pardon, madam. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy," the young lady repeated. She shook her head. "No, I do not believe that I have heard of you. You must be rich, though." She took a long, bold look at him, as well as his horse. "Where are you from?"
"Pemberley, madam."
"Is it lovely?"
"I believe so,"
"Well, it cannot be as lovely as Thrushcross Grange," she declared.
"I do not know. I have never seen or heard of this Thrushcross Grange," returned Darcy.
"Well, you have never visited these parts, have you?"
"No, I have not."
"You should. I used to play here all the time when I was younger. Even now, I love to take walks here."
Darcy could not help but briefly smile as he thought of Elizabeth. "My wife enjoys taking long walks as well."
"Oh, does she? See, she could come with me," she insisted.
"Perhaps," Darcy replied, the young lady now bearing more and more resemblance to Elizabeth in his mind by her lively way of speaking.
She nodded vigorously. "Heathcliff and I used to spend hours together –"
"Heathcliff?" Darcy questioned.
Her face colored slightly. "He – he is an old friend of mine. It is he that I search for."
"Oh," Darcy decided not to pursue the subject.
Her face cleared as she looked at him, smiling mockingly. "You do not talk much, I take it?"
He shook his head. "I am afraid that I am not well-versed in the art of conversation."
"Pity," she drawled. "Your poor wife must suffer so."
"I believe she is quite accustomed to it by now," said Darcy dryly. "Although she does encourage me to practice more."
She laughed. "Practice? Well, I daresay that Heathcliff needs some as well; he can be so sulky at times."
"I suppose,"
She threw her head back and laughed again, a sharp, sudden movement that caught him by surprise. "'I suppose?' It is lucky you are handsome and rich, Mr. Darcy, otherwise your wife might have no compensation for having married such a deadly dull husband."
Darcy looked at her sharply. "I beg your pardon?"
Her smile was derisive. "Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy. I would hate to have you sulk as well. You are far too handsome to have such a stone face."
Darcy had the urge to leave her right there and then, but reminded himself that without her, he would become lost again. Coolly, he changed the subject. "You chastised me for my rudeness in failing to introduce myself. But you have not yet told me your name, madam."
"Catherine Earnshaw," she said proudly. "Soon to become Catherine Linton."
Darcy looked at her. There was smugness in her tone of voice, but there was also something else, something that he could not quite identify. "Congratulations," he said stiffly.
"I know, is it not wonderful?" she crowed. "It is he who stands to inherit Thrushcross Grange, the marvelous estate that I told you of earlier. Once we are married, I shall become the grandest lady in all the land!"
I highly doubt that, madam, thought Darcy sardonically.
She glanced at him. "Well? What are you thinking about in that head of yours? Why do you not speak?"
Her attention now fully on him, Darcy said quickly, "I was simply thinking how interesting it was that you share a name with both my aunt and one of my sisters-in-laws."
"Really?" She tilted her head to the side curiously. "That is a strange coincidence. What are they like?"
Darcy smiled wryly. He had a feeling that Miss Earnshaw would not be pleased to hear that his aunt was snobbish and domineering, and that his wife's sister was petulant and silly, though at least not as much as her sister, Lydia, was. "My aunt is…very strong-willed," he said carefully. "In fact, she has very high standing in society, so naturally she is accustomed to asserting herself. As for my sister-in-law, she is of a very lively nature."
The present Catherine smiled. "They sound charming," she remarked. "I wonder if I shall ever meet them."
Darcy's wry smile deepened as he imagined his aunt meeting Miss Earnshaw. If his aunt thought that Elizabeth was intolerable, well, she would absolutely despise Catherine Earnshaw. Their meeting would not go well, he was certain of that.
"Yes," Catherine was saying, all the while, "You say that your aunt is very wealthy? Perhaps my fiancé Edgar and I shall travel to meet her after we are married. No doubt she is refined and gracious."
Darcy coughed to hide his laugh. "Exceedingly,"
"Well, Edgar's parents are," she declared. "They are very kind and very, very refined. Mrs. Linton took great pains to teach me how to be a noble lady. I was born as one, you see," she clarified to him, "but I did not know how to act as one. No," she shook her head. "I was very wild, and I still am, I think. But perhaps once I am married, all that will change. Yes, I shall be a real lady and I shall be happy."
Darcy did not know how to reply to that, so said nothing. They walked on. To Darcy's surprise, Catherine's mood seemed to fade with each passing step. Her arrogant smile slipped away as she fell into thought. She was now biting her lip anxiously, her eyes focused on the ground. He sensed a general feeling of unease about her. Softening his tone, he quietly asked, "What is ailing you, Miss Earnshaw?"
She shook her head distractedly. "Nothing, Mr. Darcy. Nothing at all."
Watching her carefully, he said slowly, "Just why are you meeting this Heathcliff fellow?"
Her head snapped up. She looked at him warily before smiling brightly. "Why…to bring him news of my impending marriage. We are such good friends and all." But her smile did not reach her eyes.
"Only friends?" he said skeptically. He had not missed the color that had risen in her cheeks again.
She opened her mouth to answer, but quickly closed it. Darcy sighed. "Miss Earnshaw," he began, "it is clear to me that you admire Mr. Linton's wealth. But allow me to ask one question, do you love him?"
Her face flushed even more, but this time it was with anger. "You sound just like my housekeeper, Nelly! Of course I do, he is handsome and rich and kind and most agreeable."
"Then why are you meeting another man alone in the middle of the night?" he said pointedly.
Again, she said nothing. "Does your fiancé know of this?" he said sternly.
She visibly winced. "No,"
"Are you planning to arrange more nightly meetings between you and this Heathcliff?"
Her chin rose. "No. I plan on letting him stay in Thrushcross Grange with us."
Darcy could not believe his ears. "Why?"
"Well, unfortunately, he is in a position much below mine," she said patronizingly. "My brother was horrid to him – stripped him of everything and made him into a servant. He is quite wild and ill-bred."
"And this is why you will not marry Heathcliff instead, I suppose?" said Darcy, his eyebrows raised.
"Well, you cannot expect a lady like me to marry someone who is so beneath me," she said haughtily. "It would be a disgrace for me to marry him, just as I told Nelly."
She did have a point, Darcy grudgingly admitted to himself. Marrying a servant would certainly bring her social ridicule and even exile. He grimaced as he remembered echoing similar sentiments in his first proposal to Elizabeth. She had been greatly offended and rightly so. But it was the truth, nevertheless.
But I married her anyway, he reminded himself. He looked back at Catherine and frowned. "So, the sole reason that you will not marry Heathcliff is because he is socially inferior to you?"
"Yes,"
"Then why do you want to bring him into your home?"
"Well, to help him, of course," she said airily. "When I am married, I shall raise him above his station and improve his living." But Darcy was not fooled. Her words were nothing more than a feeble excuse, a self-righteous bluff.
"And will your future husband assist you in your noble endeavor?" he asked sarcastically.
She scowled. "No. But Edgar will have to learn to accept it. I will be mistress of the house; I should have the right to bring my friends over whenever I please."
Darcy shook his head. "Does he love you, Miss Earnshaw?"
She was caught off guard. "What do you mean? Who?"
"Edgar Linton."
"Well, of course he does," she said stoutly. "He told me he did, when he proposed."
"And does Heathcliff love you?"
She faltered in embarrassment. "Yes,"
"Can you seriously expect two men who are in love with you to live peaceably together in the same house?"
She did not reply, but hurriedly looked away from him. Why am I so concerned? Darcy thought. It is none of my business.
His thoughts were interrupted when Catherine abruptly said, "You cannot judge me, Mr. Darcy! You do not know the whole story." Her words were defiant and fierce.
"I do not," he conceded. "And I am not judging anyone, Miss Earnshaw. But I do believe that you are making a grave error."
She fixed him with a determined look. "Would you mind if I told it to you? The moor is vast and we have not found anyone yet. They must be further away than I thought."
"If it pleases you," he said calmly. After she opened her mouth to speak, he immediately regretted his words. Miss Earnshaw clearly loved to talk and her story was ensured to be long. Whatever it takes to find Elizabeth, he thought wearily as Catherine proceeded to tell him her story of woe.