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 nher 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.