For the first time in her life, the sound of the door lock sliding closed filled Elizabeth Bennet with great jubilation. She was saved! As the tears in her eyes threatened to spill forth in elation, she struggled to regain control of her emotions. Over the past month, she had learned in the most difficult way imaginable not to take for granted the harsh unexpectedness of life. She could not allow herself to rejoice until she was fully and safely free from the walls of this wretched place.
The smell of fresh food was calling to her as her stomach groaned in hunger, and rising slowly from the bed, she made her way to the tray. The sight of so many sweet and savory offerings made her mouth water in anticipation; she had not been presented with such a feast since Longbourn. Even before her restriction to bread and cheese in punishment for her attempt to escape, her meals had consisted of little compared to that which she was accustom. A piece of meat and a hot roll had been the extent of her morning meals. But before her now was a tray overflowing with muffins and cold meats, plumb cake and eggs. Even a pot of chocolate had been provided for their pleasure. Greedily, she filled a plate and retreated to the window to eat as she watched King Street pass below her.
Although her lips were well occupied in devouring her food, her thoughts were soon otherwise engaged. Was she truly saved from her despair? Mr. Darcy had promised her in earnest that she would be returned to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but how soon was such a reunion to be achieved? What would happen to her after she was returned to her family? Surely, she could not return to Longbourn and the authority of Mr. Collins, but her uncle, though a successful businessman, certainly could not afford to take on the expense of supporting a grown woman in what was sure to be her spinsterhood. And what of her sisters? Clearly none of them were safe while under his charge, but what other alternative was there to be had? How were they to be rescued from his care and supported in a respectable manner, one which would provide for them until they were safely settled into marriage?
These thoughts plagued her as she ate, but try as she might, there simply were not any answers to be had. Defeated by the impossibility of the situation, her thoughts then shifted to her savior, Mr. Darcy. Five hundred pounds! Such a sum to forfeit in assistance to a woman so wholly unconnected to him! What would drive him to agree to such outrageous terms? Unwilling to believe that he could care for her still after the horrid accusations she had hurled at him at Hunsford, she desperately sought another answer.
Naïve no longer, she fully understood what tempted gentlemen to an establishment such as Madame Amelia's. He was of course a young, virile man who had at his disposal the means to pursue the pleasures of the flesh without risking entanglement or scandal. But that did not make his declaration that it was a mistress he sought any less shocking for Elizabeth to hear, and a small part of her wondered if there was some amount of truth to all he had said. Had he come to the brothel last night in search of a mistress for his exclusive use?
The thought of such made her stomach churn, as she did not want to imagine such a lack of morality possible in her redeemer. If there was one man in the world whom she wished to think no ill of at that moment in time, it was Mr. Darcy. However, her recent exposure to the evils of this world made it impossible for her to not question him and his intentions. What if he was, in all actuality, telling the complete truth? What if he did wish for her to serve as his mistress? Five hundred pounds was more than twice the annual income her mother and sisters received following Papa's death. While he was a wealthy man to be sure, that was simply too much.
Consumed with these dark thoughts, she began to quietly pace the chamber. Finding the garments still lying upon the bed, she glanced down at her attire and quickly divested herself of the chemise, as if the very feel of it burned her skin. Hastily, she covered herself with the proper shift she had been provided before making work of the petticoat and stays. One advantage to being raised as one of five sisters with only one maid to attend them was knowing how to easily dress oneself, stays included. She was quite pleased to discover that they actually served to ease some of the discomfort which had been bedeviling her since she first awoke; however, when she donned the gown she had been given, her distress returned as she found the cut too low for her modesty. Struggle as she may, she could not adjust the clothing in any such way as to make her feel comfortable enough to face Mr. Darcy again.
Resigning herself to further humiliation before the gentleman, she again withdrew to the window to await his arrival, absentmindedly working her hair into a simple knot. If Mr. Darcy meant her any dishonour, why would he promise to return her to her uncle? For surely a restoration to her family would no longer leave her unprotected, and therefore with no need to assume a position of such disgrace as a gentleman's mistress. Was he perhaps depending upon her feelings of gratitude or some other sense of obligation to compel her into fulfilling her end of the arrangement? No. No, this was foolishness. Mr. Darcy was a man of honour. If nothing else, not his letter to her in April nor the accounts of him gained from his friends and family had proven otherwise, his actions the previous night had shown him to be as much. She could hold no doubt that he was a man whom she could trust and rely upon to do all that was proper and right. Right?
Her thoughts continued in this vein for she knew not how long, as countless workers and thieves, beggars and miscreants moved back and forth along the street below. More questions arising with each passing minute, but none receiving a satisfactory answer. Eventually, she was roused from her deliberations by the sound of the door unlocking and looking at the mantle clock realized that nearly two hours had passed since he had left. Her heart in her throat, she turned to face the chamber door, uncertain who it would be crossing the threshold. Her stomach dropped as Madame Amelia entered the bedchamber, her face painted in a false display of kindness and affability. But, she was followed immediately by Mr. Darcy, who strode with confidence into the room, his eyes seeking her out. In that moment, she knew she was free.
Once again brimming with joy and battling her tears, she watched as he gestured towards the door, an invitation for her to precede him from the room. She was only too happy to accede, maintaining a wide berth as she passed the madame and made her way into the hall. Keeping her eyes on the floor as they moved along the corridor, she could feel the presence of the gentleman close beside her, too close for propriety. But as his presence brought only comfort, she found herself wishing he were even closer. Drawing on his strength and the assurance with which he moved, she felt her courage rise as each step brought her closer to freedom. In silence, they descended the servants' stairs and made their way towards the front of the house, only raising her eyes when she knew the front door to be in sight. As it opened before her, she released all pretense of calmness and rushed forward, hurrying passed Thomas and down the steps leading to the street, unwilling to stop lest some cruel twist of fate tried to once again pull her back into the darkness. So intent as she was on heading straight towards the waiting carriage, she was surprised to find that Mr. Darcy had overtaken her, reaching it before she. Opening the door and reaching for her hand, he assisted her in mounting the steps, and as she did she could not stop herself from turning upon him a look of such unadulterated delight and infinite gratitude. For no words could ever adequately express all she felt towards him in that moment.