Hey guys. did you all like kick ass Lizzie? ive read so many 'lizzie gets kidnapped' stories with Darcy to the rescue that i wanted to write a flip of that. :) This Lizzie was definitely bad ass enough to manage herself. lets find out how Darcy fared!...
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Chapter 22
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Darcy's story
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As Darcy watched his wife storm off he noted, absently, that there was no actual storm. Not even a gust of wind or heating of the air around them. Nothing.
He was too stunned by the whole ordeal for that fact to fully impact on him but it would do so, and soon.
First he was angry, but as always the anger swiftly gave way and on this occasion there was a riot of emotions ready to rage in to the gaping hole where anger had been only moments before. He knew he needed to clear his head and identify these emotions. He was nothing if not meticulous and he knew he needed a level head before approaching his wife, and indeed any of his family, again.
He walked, what he really wished to do was ride, but his horse was nowhere near and walking was the best he could do. He also lifted some large boulders, careful not to move any which would cause soil to shift. It was a way of flexing muscles even if they were mental ones rather than physical. The exertion still soothed and calmed him, allowing more rational thoughts to occupy his mind.
He ran over the events of the preceding hour, trying to understand what had caused them both to react so violently.
He sighed, he realised a good deal of that was down to him. He could not quite understand himself.
First off he was very frustrated, he loved his wife, more than life itself, and he wished to show her. He yearned for her love and her touch. It was like a physical ache that he could do nothing about, at least not without compromising his wife's safety, which is something he would never do. At least that was what he told himself, and it had seemed to make sense at the time. Hindsight was a beautiful, tragic thing.
Elizabeth clearly knew about the Darcy legacy and the odd events of the previous night. He had intended to tell her everything but it was upsetting to find she already knew. He still could not understand how Caroline fitted in, why had she smelled like Elizabeth? What had her plan been? Just to hurt his wife? He would not be surprised.
He felt anger anew at the idea that she had planned everything. The letter also perchance? But no, that was in Elizabeth's hand, so even if she had engineered him finding it, the issue was still the same. What did that letter mean?
He had been desperate to speak to Elizabeth, to find out if he had been cuckold. But she had left this morning without speaking to him.
Richard had managed to distract him for a time, but when the carriage returned and only three women had come in to the house, something had snapped.
He had stormed off after his wife, wanting to talk and feeling like she was ignoring him, it only made him more frustrated and that manifested in more anger. He was not sensible enough of his own feelings to wisely delay the upcoming confrontation, and what a confrontation it had been.
He growled to himself, he had not meant to hurl accusations at her, but he had refused to be cowed by her accusations when he had evidence of her own deceit. When she had started to unravel his accusations, he was not under good regulation and could do nothing to stop the effects of her words from showing across his face. Once she had figured out his shame he could not even speak in his defence, he had no defence and she knew it.
He wanted to allow her some time, which was why he had not run after her, he also needed time to calm, which was what he was doing now. However the more he thought about things, the more despondent he became.
He was all in the wrong, and she was right to be angry.
That feeling, of shame, was now almost overwhelming. When it had previously fuelled his anger it now only fuelled despair.
How could she ever forgive him? He didn't even deserve to ask it of her.
It was only then that he allowed himself to think on her last words. Only two. 'Samantha' and 'child'. Two words that had changed everything. Firstly, making him realise how truly obnoxious he had been, and second making him realise how utterly deficient he had been. He should have noticed, she should have noticed, had she not been distracted by his ridiculous behaviour.
He groaned in desperation, moaning against all hope that this could be fixed.
It was then that the full impact of their fight hit him. 'Times of great emotional stress'. An argument as heated as their previous and yet no external sign of magic. He had seen her aura agitated and yet she had not allowed any to escape. Had she learned to contain it? What had changed since their last argument? Or was it just her own awareness that had wrought the change?
He was still ruminating on these thoughts when he felt the twist of nausea in his gut, a wince far more acute than anything he had felt before.
'Elizabeth' an anguished cry and he whirled around, as if to make off after her, only to come face to face with an unknown man. He frowned and would have pushed past him, likely without a word, if four others had not stepped out from their hiding places, surrounding him.
Darcy felt only irritation at the distraction and wished only to make his way to Elizabeth, his fear for his wife, and unborn child, stopping all rational thought. He barely noticed the shields forming around him.
"Move, I must away. I don't know who you ... Think..."
His head swam, he dropped to his knees. It was then he noticed the shields but it was too late. He tried a feeble attempt to break through but he could not and next he was slipping in to unconsciousness.
When he had woken he had been on a cart, bound, gagged and unable to see through the scratchy sac carelessly draped over his face. His magic was at such a low level he could barely wield it, let alone use it to aid his own predicament.
His one relief and comfort was that he could barely feel the pull of danger connecting him to Elizabeth. He sighed in relief and hoped that meant she was well, she had evaded capture! He allowed himself a small smile, she was such and impressive witch, he was continually surprised by her. He then felt another wave of despair, an emotion fast becoming too familiar to him. Richard would no doubt give chase but he noted the men were covering their tracks using magic, so unless they stopped or stayed on the main road long enough for mounted men to catch up, it was unlikely he would be found.
Georgiana's gift could help, but he knew Richard would not bring her along on such an expedition. If only Elizabeth had such a gift, he berated himself sternly. And then felt horror at the idea of his wife setting off to find him, he should not desire such a situation and became glad of his ridiculous mistake for a fleeting moment.
No, he would have to save himself.
He had very little magic, not enough to do more than take notice of the magic around him, he could sense there were men using earth magic to smooth tracks but would not be able to manipulate the earth to leave a mark, not yet anyway, but if his magic gained in strength he might.
He bided his time, hoping if he stayed quiet they would forget about him.
"Well, well, you are quite the catch, I can see why she would want you!"
He jumped as fingers ran over his chest, only then realising the words were directed at him.
"Ah" a chuckle "and not as oblivious as we had thought."
The hood was removed and he was looking in to the face of a young woman who would have been pretty, very pretty, if her face wasn't twisted in hate.
Her fingers trailed over his face and she hummed appreciatively. He attempted to reach for her power but she withdrew her fingers.
"Tsk, let's not spoil the moment" she almost leered at him, he shuddered, it was not pleasant to be leered at. He was somewhat disturbed.
"Yes, if you had been my master, I may have wished to stay in service."
Darcy frowned at the inflection on the word service, confusion writ across his face. She answered with a cruel smile.
"Yes, I was once in service, before my talents were discovered. I might have stayed if you had been the one to decide that a maid was for more than cleaning"
Darcy felt sick, he knew too many instances of maids being taken advantage of. This witch in front of him clearly held some resentment over such an occurrence, likely with good cause. Then next moment his compassion was squashed as her hand trailed suggestively down his body. He flinched away from her hand, eyes glaring.
"Hmmm, pity" she smiled, more of a grimace really, and leaned in. He had no way of backing up further. "Night night" she whispered before pressing her lips to his and pulling the small amount of budding magic he had accumulated. He blacked out quickly.
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When Darcy next opened his eyes it took all his restraint not to groan, he remembered himself just in time and hoped he had not let on that he was awake.
His sack was no longer on his face and he cracked an eye open to look around. Unfortunately there was hardly anything to see. He was low in the cart, facing the front, and could not see much besides trees lining the roads. Dawn was streaking the night sky and the sun was behind him, so he was heading west. For all the help that knowledge is, he scoffed to himself. There were a number of wizards sleeping on the benches around the cart, the woman and another man sat on the drivers seat. At least one or two unaccounted for. Possibly behind him but he dared not move too much to check.
When he heard a low chuckle and an oath accompanied by a reference to a card trick, he was glad he had not. It appeared the last two men were playing a game on the bench behind him.
Darcy thought quickly, the man in front of him was close, if he could touch his skin he could draw his magic, his own was improved but still far from strong. The carriage bumped and he saw an opportunity to edge closer. Another bump another inch. He was only milimeters away now.
"Oi" a shout from behind him "not so fast sneaky one."
He was roughly rolled on to his back and found himself looking in to the face of one of the ugliest men ever.
"I see wha' you is abou'."
The man kicked him in the side and Darcy groaned.
"Tha's for tryin' ta be sneaky like."
He reached down and Darcy found his magic draining away, he tried to do what Elizabeth had done, strengthen a shield then reverse the flow but he simply did not have enough strength and he found himself slipping back in to the blackness that accompanied a magic draining. Cursing himself for being unable to fool these men.
When next he woke, he found himself on the floor of something solid, or at least not moving. Memories were quick to return and he suppressed the groan lest someone was watching over him. He vowed to himself hat he would not be drained again. To that effect he gathered the meagre amount of magic that had formed and wrapped a shield around it, it was barely more than a layer of fabric over a puddle of water, but he was content that to a quick view he would appear very nearly completely drained.
He then looked carefully around, trying to move as little as possible. He was slumped against a wall, possibly a house or a cottage. The walls seemed too well built to be a barn, but he owned that some of the older stables might be built of such stonework. The floor was dirty, there was no furnishings, but on closer inspection he realised there likely had been. An abode then. The room was a good size, the Windows, glassless but of good proportions. A nice house as was. Now in disrepair, almost ruins.
He could not see more without moving and so closed his eyes and sent his senses out, trying to pin point any auras in the surrounding area. There was one close by and behind him. He sighed in relief for his own foresight in not moving. There were many others nearby and he counted their number with dismay. How was he to evade so many?
He noticed a bustle in the auras and a pair of magicians entered the room he was in.
"Sam, wake up, we need to move 'im."
There was a grunt from nearby.
"The lady is nearly 'ere 'n she wanted him locked away, he needs to regain some power for what she as planned for 'im, n he still looks weak as a baby. You not been draining him extra 'ave you?"
There was no reply, Darcy assumed the man had shaken his head.
"Well come on then."
A moment later Darcy was being lifted, none of his skin was in contact with his movers, he tried lolling his head to the side but the men were wearing high collars, or scarves. He almost groaned in frustration but before he could think of another plan he was unceremoniously dumped to the floor and he heard a door shutting and the sound of a key turning. His eyes flew open to find himself in a cupboard similar to the one for storing food in at Pemberley. Why this one had a key was anyone's guess, mayhap the servants of the latest master were prone to stealing food. Darcy didn't bother to spend anymore time pondering it, instead he was up and prowling to see what he could learn of his confinement.
Within ten minutes he had learned enough, the room was small, there was nothing to eat and likely due to mice, thanks to the tell tale droppings around. The door was solid enough and the lock and hinges were, surprisingly, well maintained. He could sense about four individuals beyond the door, occasionally more, but he could not hear what they were discussing. Through the key hole he could see the key. It was casually discarded on a big table in the middle of the room, the kitchen as was, right next to a man's hand.
A plan was forming in his mind, if the man could be distracted, he could get that key. It was made of iron, an earth metal, he could float it. He concentrated on lifting it, just enough to be off the table, he held his breath as it wobbled slightly, but no one looked around.
He was just thinking of moving something else when noises broke out all around. Not wishing to lose the opportunity he moved the key towards him. It clanked as it hit the floor but no one paid attention. The men were shouting and running to and fro. Something was definitely occurring, he just hoped it was not something that would prove more detrimental to himself. Without further delay he slid the key under the door and it was the work of a moment to turn it and release himself.
It was that moment that a blast of fire came through the door and two of his guards were knocked over. Her opened the door and managed to get a hand on two others, quickly rendering them unconscious.
He looked up at his saviour and felt a wave of surprise, mingled with relief and desire, as he saw Elizabeth, wild, untamed and glowing, stride through the door