Author's note: Sorry, it took some time. The first draft of chapter 2 gave me writer's block. Lol. Hope you have fun reading.
The history of the woman standing barefoot on the precipice of the cliff was not long but complicated. This woman suffered ever since she lost her father. Her legal guardian, the clergyman who was previously employed in his Aunt Catherine's estate as a parson, had not been generous to her. The daughter of the late master of the house— a gentlewoman — was reduced to being a maid. And not just a maid. She became a gardener, a cook, and her cousin's children's governess. She couldn't escape the place even if she wanted to. She had no money, no prospects, no family. She had little to recommend herself. Her aunts and uncles ignored her, refusing to help her. Her mother eloped with a clerk when she was but five, taking her only sister Jane with her. It wasn't surprising to discover that this woman was rumored to be non compos mentis*.
Her circumstances led her a hard life but she was educated but could she counted as sensible as well? Her papa had hired a governess to teach her politics, science, mathematics — subjects not fit for a miss like her or any woman for that matter — as well as etiquette, embroidery, and the like but the man had no son to dote on and his estate was entailed away to an idiot. Although, no one could not deny the love this Bennet man held for his daughter. His daughter Elizabeth reminded him of his late mother, Rosanna. Elizabeth was clearly a true blooded Bennet; curly chestnut hair, bright dark eyes, and intellect. At least his wife had a streak of fidelity when they conceived his sweet girl.
Years later, when the girl turned twenty, a militia visited the town. She had been running an errand for her cousin's wife. She was to buy ribbons and laces for a ball held by Sir Lucas the morrow night. The girl had no idea the picture she presented these soldiers. A basket in hand, her petite form clad in a red cloak and blue dress. She was the perfect prey. The little red riding hood.
On her way to the seamstress shop, she was flanked by two blond red coats. These men introduced themselves gallantly. Charming, chivalrous, and, jovial men they were. Elizabeth's first instinct was to excuse herself immediately and be done with her errand but Lt. Wickham — Darcy snarled at the name — had been persuasive. His fair beauty was compelling to the firm Elizabeth who was shying away from his gaze.
And no matter how many times she tried to tell him of her indifference, he didn't stop. Darcy couldn't call it courting or pursuing. Clearly, Wickham was manipulating another innocent girl. In this case, however, Miss Bennet had more sense at first despite ending up falling in his trap.
"So where is Wickham now?" Asked Darcy, his voice tight and posture taut.
" 'e went away, sir. Don't know where. Just left. There were gossips around that he learnt the Miss was with child and didn't want no responsibility." The stable boy said, brushing Darcy's stallion meticulously.
Darcy gulped. "And was she? With child?"
The boy shrugged. "Don't know, sir. She stopped going outside. We stopped seeing her, sir, and then folks just started seeing her again on that cliff alone. They sayin' she waiting for him there. That he'll return to her. Poor Miss."
"No child has been seen?"
The boy once again shrugged. "Dunno, sir."
"Is she sane?"
"Dunno, sir."
Darcy was feeling frustrated that this boy wasn't giving him the answers he wanted. "What do you know more of the lady? What do you think really happened, boy?" He asked impatiently.
Seeing the irate look on the gentleman's face, he treaded his words carefully. "Well, my parents 're saying she's no lady. That she's Loot'n'nt's Hoer. But . . . " he stopped his brushing. "But I spoke to her once and I think her the nicest miss I've ever talked to. I don't know the whole story, sir, and I don't know what she's capable of doing." He sighed. "I don't think the story's entirely true but folks love gossips, sir, and they'd say anything to entertain themselves. She could be no wanton for all I know but y'know them. And they started to hate her. A lot of them used to like her."
"I see." Darcy said absent-mindedly.
The stable boy continued, "Anyways, the clergyman believed his cousin was a sinner—"
"What did he do to her?"
"I was just going to tell you, sir."
Darcy waved his hand. "Proceed."
"And he locked her up for quite some time. Didn't want her to touch his children or wander around the place. Miss Bennet liked long walks, sir. 'Tis why she's so healthy all the time, I think, and well, it was torture to her. After months, we started seeing her in Oakham Mount but the place is forbidden, sir. It's immoral to be there but we often see her walking up to the place and —"
"And then what?"
He paused. "The men, sir. Some soldiers, sir, newly stationed in the town heard these gossips and you know how it works." The boy grimaced. "They started following and asking her whenever they got the chance to see her, sir. They really thought she was a whore and she accepted their offers, sir."
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did she really?"
"According to the elders, sir."
The gentleman rubbed his forehead. "And you think she didn't?"
"I don't know, sir."
"That is enough, young man. Thank you." Darcy said before tossing two coin to the boy. "Is he all right now?"
"Yes, sir. You can take him now." The boy said, pulling the reigns and giving it to the gentleman. "Good morning again, sir."
Darcy tipped his hat and mounted Ares, his sorrel-colored stallion. It was still early in the day. Anne and the two Fitzwilliams were still abed and though he was minutes away from breakfast, he had no plans to join them. He felt suffocated whenever they were near. The talk of the wedding exhausted him and he desired to get away from it all at once.
He looked around and smelt the fresh drew of the air. The sun was already peaking from the trees. Darcy urged his horse to speed up and halted him, looking up at the mount where he had seen the woman. He didn't know why he was looking up. Perhaps, he was expecting the woman to appear and look down at him. He shook his head, annoyed at himself for being interested in the woman's story.
It is that Wickham's doing.
Darcy gripped the reigns tighter. My god, it was his fault. His. She could have avoided this tragedy if it weren't for his idiocy. He had Wickham in his clutches. He could have killed him and thrown him in a ditch when he tried to seduce Georgiana. But no. Damn it, no. He let Wickham go, convincing himself he'd turn into a new leaf and contented that the scoundrel would no longer bother his family. And this innocent woman had been sullied by Wickham. He felt rage boiling up his throat. Now, he felt angry at himself. Disgusted and ashamed.
He sneered. His stomach was lurching. He wanted to vomit. His hands itched, wanting to scour the whole area to find the woman and apologize. Darcy closed his eyes and let out a calming breath.
The sound of hooves broke him out of his thoughts and he followed the sound, seeing a flash of unbound brown hair and green clothing. Darcy kicked Ares and soon they followed the equestrian. Perhaps, the rider noticed him tailing her since he slowed down.
He wasn't expecting to meet the aforementioned lady so soon. And he certainly wasn't expecting his breath to be taken away. "Miss, I—"
"It's you." There was surprised recognition in her tone. ". . . again, sir."
He cleared his throat. "Yes, it is me."
She just looked at him with her dark candid eyes. Was she truly surprised to see him? He cleared his throat. "Good morning, Miss."
She blinked at him and her own horse started to squirm. "I . . . I," she paled but decided to be polite as well. "Good morning, sir."
"You have a fine horse." He said. Upon his word, was he truly making a conversation with this woman by telling her she had a fine horse? Apologize Darcy. The voice inside his head said. He replied inwardly, getting there.
She was reluctant to reply — to open her mouth. "Yes. Yes, she is." Her eyes widened to see her horse nuzzling Darcy's hand. She pulled the reigns to put some distance between them. "She is saying thank you."
"You are welcome."
"Her name's Venus."
He nodded. Ares, the greek god of war. Venus, the roman goddess of beauty. He ought to laugh. "You are welcome, Venus."
She poised her horse ahead even though the mare was wanting to get closer to the gentleman's stallion. "I must go now, sir. Thank you for . . ." She glared at the horizon. "being polite."
"Where are you going, Miss?"
Her jaw clenched and her spine straightened. Darcy could almost feel the invisible barrier she's erecting between them. "I believe that is none of your concern, sir."
"No, I believe it is not." Her knuckles were whitening from her grip of the reigns. "I only mean to accompany you. I mean no harm. Upon my honour, Madam."
"Your honor means nothing to me." She muttered, her ears deaf of the honour she was promised. "Sir, do not delay me any longer. I plead you."
He was inclined to argue with her, to prolong her talk with him. "Miss, I only mean to give you company while I find my lady flowers. Do you know where they grow in abundance?"
She pressed her lips into a thin line but Darcy saw her wary eyes lit up in curosity. "I was about to find fresh flowers for the mistress as well."
He nodded. "Lead the way."
"Sir." She said icily. "You must not be seen with me. Do you know these woods and the gossips they come with?"
He feigned innocence and shrugged. "No. I'm afraid I don't."
"Then you must be new here." She said, resigned. "From Netherfield?"
"Yes. Forgive me. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy."
She looked at her her clammy hands holding the reigns, blanching for she was now required to speak her given name. She felt his expectant eyes on her, compelling her to speak something.
She wasn't expecting him to smile. "No worries, Miss. Anonymity would be a bit fun, don't you think? However, it's unfair since you already know my name and I don't know yours."
She let out a scoff. This was obvious because of the puff of smoke she exhaled. Still, even with her prudence, she obliged leading the way. Darcy smiled thinly. He felt her irritation with him as she raced her horse to the field. He looked at her form as she rode. She was quite possibly the most magnificent female rider he had ever met. She looked to be intimately bonded with her mare as he was with Ares. But as a gentleman, he could not approve of her riding astride it. It was inappropriate and incongruous. Anne never rode a horse in her entire life— a carriage pulled by horses didn't count. And he never allowed Georgiana to mount a horse without a guide.
Her face was bare, lacking any cosmetics often seen in the faces of some women. But she was pretty. Yet she didn't look delicate either. There was something oddly independent and free in her, transcending her misery and loneliness. Darcy clenched his jaw, thinking of Wickham and how he destroyed her. That demon destroyed her life. Her innocence. Her future. And he suddenly felt obligated to her.
"Your lady, what kind of flowers does she like?" The woman asked him, mounting down her horse.
Darcy looked at the stretch of land covered by trees and he was severely impressed with the amount of flowers thriving in the area. Pemberley needed this kind of fertile soil. He lifted his eyes to watch her bend down and pluck a couple of red flowers, resembling roses. He realized he hadn't answered her questions.
"She likes roses."
She didn't turn around but he knew she heard him. After grabbing her share of flora, the woman walked to her horse and took a kind of wrap for her flowers.
"What kind of flowers are they?" Darcy asked.
"These are begonias. They are my mistress's." She sighed. "Roses, sir, am I correct?"
"Yes." He looked at her intensely. Her pale hand went to her elbow nervously. "Did you plant all these?"
"Yes. When I went on long walks as a child, I—" she flushed and stopped, flustered.
"Please continue."
"No, I can't. We must hurry." She said before picking up her skirts and briskly walking up to a patch where red, white, and, pink roses grew. Once again, Darcy was mesmerized at the sight of her crouched down, picking assortment of roses. She hastened to him. "I do not know what color of roses your lady likes, Mr. Darcy."
"As long as they're roses, Miss. I don't think it would be a problem to her."
She nodded but made no move to give the bouquet of roses. She made quick various stops around the place, plucking pretty flowers and putting it into the wrap with the other roses. A minute and a half later, she handed it to him. "Here, sir."
He averted his gaze from her and looked at the collection of flowers. The sweet fragrance wafted to his nose. "They are beautiful. She will love it. Thank you."
She curtsied and mounted her horse, holding her own bouquet in her arms. Darcy mounted his own. "Shall I see again soon, Miss?" To apologize. To offer her security and away from the prying eyes of this town.
She was blunt, he would give her that. "No. I don't think you shall, sir. I bid you good-bye." A single whip of reigns and her horse carried her away from him. Darcy's gaze dropped to the roses. At least he knew Anne would adore this. She need not know that the barefoot girl on the cliff gave this to him while the sun was rising to the sky.
