Caroline did not like being escorted through a small seaside town on the arm of a mere sea captain. It was disgraceful! It was beneath her! And here she was, dazedly hooked onto the arm of said lowly sea captain, leaning heavily on him actually. It seemed that her legs were not working properly, and she did not know how she moved one in front of the other.
Despite the fact that her legs would not quite obey her commands, the haughty grimace on her face was in full swing. By the time they reached the quaint little inn in the middle of the small fishing village, Caroline was more angry than she could ever remember being. To be treated so by Mr. Darcy was unbearable.
She could not yet bring herself to believe that it had really been her Mr. Darcy who had swept Elizabeth away from Mr. Collins that fateful day. As far as Caroline was concerned, Elizabeth was perfectly suited for the odious clergyman.
The grimace on Caroline's face deepened as she stepped over the threshold to the inn and looked into the bustling morning atmosphere of the inn. She surveyed the room with a cold eye, noticing every knick and scrape on the tops of the tables that scattered the first floor of the inn that served as a type of tavern. She eyed suspiciously every occupant quaintly nibbling on bacon or gulping a mug of fresh cocoa. Caroline was amazed to see that this little establishment boasted not only male occupant, but female as well. Well, thought Caroline, at least not any reputable female.
She eyed the table of women warily. There were two men and a small boy with the three women who sitting at a rather large table in the back of the room. The boy was busy shoving forkfuls of something or other that made Caroline cringe into his mouth, and two dark eyed girls, obviously sisters, talked animatedly with the younger man sitting across from them. Caroline realized that one of the women, the one staring lovingly up at the older man, was the same annoyingly fiery blonde woman who had shared Darcy's ship with her and Mr. Bennet. The one that had not been locked into a room below deck.
Caroline's gaze was diverted from the female filed table as she realized that the captain was steering her towards a table and pulling a chair out for her to sit in. She sat down stiffly and gently as if the chair might break under her insubstantial weight. She sniffed disgustedly when the captain asked if she would like something to eat or drink, and resumed her perusal of her former shipmate and her companions.
A woman can never fight the temptation to weigh and judge other women, figuring out who is the better woman in everything from the shape of noses and the turn of a countenance to fashion sense and the musical quality of her giggle.
Caroline scanned the table thusly, measuring each woman in turn and, either finding faults or pulling them from her own imagination, immediately determined not to like them. Indeed, her judgment had been decided before she'd even set foot in the inn.
A pair of fine and familiar eyes flickered into Caroline's view. There were four women at the table. Why Caroline had not noticed the one at the end was a mystery to her, but one she quickly forgot with the dawning of the fact that it was Miss. Eliza Bennet who sat there with fine sparkling eyes and a waiting laugh. The waiting laugh erupted and Caroline was perturbed to find it musical indeed.
Quickly, she stood up from the table and made her way to the back of the room. "Miss. Jones," she said, fake syrupy adulation over every intonation. "This must be your husband, Mr. Darcy's dear friend." She turned to Mr. Jones. "I've heard so much about you sir. Mr. Darcy has always regarded your friendship highly."
"Oh," replied Mr. Jones, "You are Miss. Bingley right? I believe I saw you once or twice while in London a while back."
"Yes, yes. I was delighted when I learned that this charming little angel was your wife. She really is a dear. You must take care of her though, she was severely sick most of the time on the ship. But I'm sure you're aware of her weak constitution." Miss. Bingley smiled while Mr. Jones looked confusedly from her to his wife. His wife who had never been sick a day in her life and whose father owned a ship himself. She'd practically grown up on the sea. Mr. Jones was more likely to get seasick. Oftentimes his wife stayed above board, relishing in the salty spray of the sea, while he moaned and groaned below deck.
Caroline changed her line of interest to her real target. "Ah! I see we have a similar acquaintance Mrs. Jones." Her eyes now regarded Elizabeth coolly, extending a silent challenge of sorts. "I hope you have not missed your fiancée Miss. Bennet. He is quite worried for you you know."
"No, Miss. Bingley, I've not missed my fiancée." Elizabeth spoke with unwavering truth and conviction. "May I enquire your reason for visiting an out of the way little hamlet such as this? I thought that surely a woman of your demeanor and station would not take pleasure in any sort of rustic country landscape." Elizabeth's eyebrow arched upward as she spoke, a strange glint in her eye.
"It is no secret why I've come here Miss. Bennet." The two stared each other down now. Their gazes locked in a duel to the death. "I've come to save Mr. Darcy."
Save Mr. Darcy? Save Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth, I am not the one who kidnapped him! She said as much to her adversary, her eyes widening as she pressed the palms of her hands against the table and pushed to a standing position.
"The man was obviously sick when he… when he…" stammered Caroline, unable to put a name to Darcy's daring act of rescuing Elizabeth from a Mr. Collins infested alter. "He was out of his mind! He did not know what he was doing." Caroline was adamant in this particular idea. It was either that, or the silly little country girl before her had tricked him in some way. But Darcy was the master of Pemberly, and of 10,000 pounds a year, and could thus be forgiven for anything.
Elizabeth laughed out loud, a harsher laugh than before. "Mr. Darcy is certainly not sick! Enthusiastic and impulsive, yes, but sick, no."
"Enthusiastic? Impulsive? You most obviously do not know Mr. Darcy," stated Caroline.
"Actually, Miss. Bingley, I believe I might be one of the few people who have ever been privileged enough to see the true Darcy. I assure you, you would have no taste for him." Elizabeth was almost amazed by her own audacity. Somehow, the knowledge that Darcy loved her and was marrying her this very day, and the challenge of so silly a woman as Caroline Bingley, emboldened her. A wicked thought entered her mind, tempted the back of her throat, and rolled sweetly over her tongue and through her parted lips. "Miss. Bingley, if you are not occupied this afternoon, perhaps you would consider attending my wedding." Elizabeth could not believe the words she had just uttered.
Neither could Caroline. Her jaw hung slack in a most undignified manner and her milky white complexion turned red as the soldiers' coats. Quickly clanking her jaw shut and narrowing her widened eyes, Caroline thrust her fists to her sides, turned sharply, and left the table without comment.
Elizabeth sat, blushing. "I should not have said that… I fear," spoke she into the muted silence that had fallen over the breakfast table's occupants.
"I thought it was brilliant!" exclaimed Rene, her eyes glowing with excitement. Elizabeth looked at the young girl, then at her older sister, whose eyes shone heavy with amusement and admiration. She could almost she the cogs in the girl's head fitting her words into a story of some sort. Young Mr. Richards' eyes held the same expression, though more prevalent was the look of astonishment, bewilderment. Mr. Jones and his wife mirrored these sentiments and Elizabeth began to feel quite ashamed of herself. After all, in the end, who would end up with the prize? Who was the one that her Mr. Darcy really loved? The answer was simple, and gave Elizabeth reason to regret her harsh treatment of Miss. Bingley, who would not come out of the whole ordeal as happily as Elizabeth surely would.
"I… I must go apologize to her." She stood up and turned around only to bump into a very flustered and serious looking Darcy.
"Apologize for what?" he asked, his keen eyes searching hers.
"Mr. Darcy," spoke Elizabeth, startled. "Did you happen to see which way Miss. Bingley went?"
"Why?"
"I need to have a word with her, alone," she added for good measure.
"I caught her fighting Captain Halloway to leave the inn. I assured her that she would have a ready room here, then instructed a maid to take her to the quarters I arranged for her."
Elizabeth frowned and pulled away. "You arranged for her to have a room here?" she asked.
"Yes, what else could I do? Elizabeth, forget Miss. Bingley for the moment. The preacher has been sent for and you and I are to wed within two hours time, and there is something I must talk with you about." His words as well as his look was serious, and though Elizabeth did not feel that he had answered her questions at all, she had learned not to jump to conclusions where Darcy was concerned. The infuriating man could be incredibly vague at times.
"Yes, we must talk. But then I really must have a word with Miss. Bingley afterwards."
"Yes Elizabeth, you shall have anything you like… but first," and taking her hand through the crook of his arm, he led her into the same back room where Elizabeth had first misheard his conversation with Mr. Jones. He sat her in a comfortable armchair and commenced pacing. Her eyes followed him patiently until he stopped directly in front of her. "You are marrying me today," he asserted fiercely.
"Yes, of course I am." She might have laughed had her intended not looked as disturbed as he did now. "William… what is the matter?"
There was only one way to tell her. "Your father is here."
"My father! But how? Have you seen him?" A part of Elizabeth felt elated that her father would be at her wedding. But reality soon came crashing in as she realized that her father's presence here was most likely not a propitious occurrence. He was sure to oppose her marriage to the man who kidnapped her from her first wedding.
"Yes. I've spoken to him. He came here with Miss. Bingely on the boat I sent for Mrs. Jones. Needless to say, he's very upset. He does not wish us to marry." Darcy was silent for a moment, deep in reflection. Elizabeth was lost in thought also, afraid to voice her fears.
"I was wrong," spoke Darcy, breaking the silence, "to have done what I did. I've been selfish, and Elizabeth, I haven't let myself think about what I've done to you because I thought that whatever we've formed between us made up for all my discretions. I've denied you a wedding surrounded by your family and friends, forced you into a hurried, traditionless ceremony just because I am impatient to have you for my own. And my very actions have put built up a wall against any friendly relationship I might have with those that you love. I've sacrificed my nobility, which was mine to freely give, and I do not regret giving it for you; but I've also sacrificed your nobility, and that was not mine to take. I've done an unforgivable thing that will surely mar and strain our union.
"Your father has every right in the world to be angry with me, to hate me. If I were in his place, and a man had absconded with Georgiana, I'd be just as angry.
"I am truly sorry Elizabeth," ended Darcy. He stood with feet slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and his hidden gaze devouring the flames that roared in the fireplace. Elizabeth sat still in her chair, gazing as intently at his back as he was at the fire.
"I… I believe I am confused," she stuttered simply. Darcy did not turn around, so she continued. "You assure me that we are to be married today in one breath, and then in the next, you more or less confess to me that you regret saving me from that horrid wedding. Which is it sir, so that I may know what my afternoon plans include?"
"Do you not see Miss. Bennet? I finally understand that I did you no favors in taking you that day. My intentions were purely selfish; I did not think of your reputation, only of my own happiness."
Elizabeth frowned when he would not look at her. She scowled when she realized that it had been a Miss. Bennet that had stiffly passed between his teeth and not the sweet rolling tones of the way he said Elizabeth. She stood up from the chair and stood to side of him, studying him profile. Shadows and light played across the planes of his face, his dark curls were tousled, windblown, his clothes were in slight disarray, and a cold glint narrowed his dark brooding eyes. He had never looked more the pirate to her than he did now.
Still he would not look at her. If he looked her way, he knew he would not be able to back down; he would not be able to give her up so freely. He felt the heat of her gaze burn hotter on his skin than the heat of the flames that scorched through his clothing. He was glad when she walked silently away. He tried to ignore the fact that she took his heart with her out the door.
Elizabeth was not quite as angry as we might all believe. She had jumped to conclusions before concerning Darcy, and she would not do it now. She knew he still loved her; he was just having an attack of guilty conscience, brought on by the unexpected arrival of her father.
He wouldn't listen to her, whatever she said, Elizabeth was sure of that. Her father would not listen to her either. She was as certain of this as she was of the other. Her father would pack her up and ship her back to Mr. Collins. The thought sent horrible shivers up and down her spine. "No, no, no," she repeated devoutly under her breath. Was she to be denied the happiness that Darcy had admitted to so selfishly taking?
What was a girl to do when the men in her life kept so suddenly changing on her. Her father, who had always doted upon his favorite daughter, and whom she thought would never suffer to see her married to a man so clearly not her equal, had decided to chain her kicking and screaming to an odious parson who adored and odious old woman. And now the confidant, take charge Darcy she had come to know and love had reverted back to the shy, appearance worshiping man that had so irked her when she had first met him. Where was the doting father?! Where was the Dread Pirate?!
Elizabeth sighed in frustration. But as an answer developed in her clear mind, she realized that keeping her mind free from anger had been an invaluable strategy. Hastening up her steps, she peered into the public dinning area to find that the Joneses and Mr. Richards still sat at the back table. Caroline Bingley would have to wait for the moment, thought Elizabeth, failing to find the tall silk bedecked woman anywhere in sight. The guilt from their earlier encounter was lessening, and Elizabeth was once again beginning to believe that her small attacks had not been so very harsh after all. But perhaps this was because her future with Mr. Darcy was not now sealed. There was still a slight chance that Caroline could win, and this solidified her as the enemy in Elizabeth's mind, leaving no room for sympathy.
"Miss. Jones, Elaina, Rene?" All three women looked up at Elizabeth, the men studied her curiously. "May I have a word with you?" She opened her gaze to now include Mr. Richards and the sisters' father. "And, I believe I could use your help as well," she added calmly.
"What is this about Miss. Bennet?" inquired Mr. Jones. He pulled a chair out from under the table and bid Elizabeth sit.
Taking the offered seat, Elizabeth spoke candidly. "I have just finished speaking with Mr. Darcy about the wedding. Complications have arisen that he believes will keep us from marrying today. Indeed, he says we may not ever wed. My father has come. He intends to take me back to the man I was to wed before Darcy… I mean… that is, before I met Mr. Darcy."
"Oh but Elizabeth! You can't marry that other man!" Rene seemed almost livid. "Surely Mr. Darcy will not let you!"
"Rene," spoke her father, "I'm sure Mr. Darcy has his reason." The older man stared thoughtfully into space for no more than a moment before turning to Mr. Richards. "Mr. Richards, I believe we should go talk with Mr. Darcy." The young secretary nodded his head in agreement, having formed a great respect for Darcy since the advice of the night before, and with Mr. Jones, rose from the table and bowing to the ladies, exited the room.
Elizabeth remained silent, but Mrs. Jones filled the void. "I believe we should retire to the girls' room. We can talk in private there." The small blonde woman led the way as the three taller, dark haired girls followed in her energetic wake, little Hinton clinging to his mommy's hand. Mrs. Jones signaled for a maid to stoke the fire and then shooed her from the room as they all took seats in various chairs or on the large bed that sat in the center of the room.
"You have every intention of marrying Mr. Darcy today don't you?" spoke Mrs. Jones, her words more statement than question.
A small smile slipped onto Elizabeth's lips. "How did you know Mrs. Jones?"
"Please, you must call me Rachel. It was easy to see your determination. I was there once also you see." The sisters giggled and smiled, remembering the way their stepmother had had to fight to convince their father that it was all right to marry. "What do you plan on doing about all this Elizabeth? You don't mind if I call you Elizabeth do you? I've never been much for formality."
"Yes, of course you may call me Elizabeth. And… I have a small plan worked out. But… it will depend on the amount of help I can scrape together." At this, she glanced hopefully from one woman to another. Each smiled mischievously, and Elizabeth's hopes rose considerably.
"What is this small plan?" asked Elaina, a curious light entering her eyes as she leaned closer to the fire, her voice low.
"Why," spoke Elizabeth, sitting straight up in her chair, chin held high, "to become a pirate."