The couple that left the church was not Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of this Mr. Bennet was quite sure. This girl's skin was darker, her dark hair streaked with auburn in the sunlight. The boy was not as wide in the shoulders nor as tall as Mr. Darcy.
The patriarch of the estrogenic Bennet family was quite perplexed. He knew that Elizabeth had said twelve. He had been at the church at twelve, however, and the couple that had emerged from the building was not his daughter and her kidnapper.
He followed them. He didn't know why, it was a feeling he had. Somehow he wasn't surprised when they led him back to Darcy's boat, The Anne. He stopped a distance from the ship, hiding behind a conveniently stopped coach. He had a good view of the boat, and the group of people on its deck. The dark haired couple he'd confused as Elizabeth and Darcy stood close together, the unexpected target of curious looks and demanding glares. The blonde woman who had been on the boat with him was smiling as she clung to a tall man's arm. The tall man was the one glaring horribly at the dark haired couple. Being a disapproving father, Mr. Bennet easily recognized the ambivalence on the man's face. Another young girl, close in resemblance to the female counterpart of the dark haired couple, stood leaning against the ship's railing, a small boy at her side.
And there was Elizabeth. She stood smiling, a radiance glowing from her face that he had never seen before. He realized with a deadening of his heart that it was the man who had his arms around her waist that inspired this joy in his daughter. It was Mr. Darcy. Had he actually wished to keep this from his daughter? Had he actually wished her to be miserable the rest of his life? He blushed at the thought, shame staining his cheeks a bright red, down casting his eyes to his shoes. He realized with horribly clarity how bad of a father he was being, how selfish he was acting. He knew what he needed to do.
With slow, dragging step, Mr. Bennet walked up the gangplank.
Darcy's arms tightened abruptly around Elizabeth, pulling her protectively to his side. Elizabeth looked up startled into her new husband's face and frowned. His eyes gazed fiercely at something in the near distance, his mouth pulled tight, and his eyebrows knit together. She turned to see what he was glaring at, only to see her father's slumped shoulders trudging up the gangplank. She pulled Darcy's hands from her hips and pushed herself from his arms, silencing him with a hard look. She walked to her father and taking his hand, lead him to where Darcy stood.
"Father… I would like you to meet my husband." She knew her words sounded silly, that her hopes were futile, that her father would likely strike her husband and both would throw each other off the ship in the battle that would ensue. She hoped that Mr. Jones and Mr. Richards would be able to handle the situation. She stepped aside then, praying that each man might extend his hand in, if not friendship, then at least truce.
Long minutes passed. Long minutes that were lengthened even more by the beating of her heart in her chest, her throat, her ears. The two men stared stonily at one another, each suspicious about the other's actions.
Mr. Bennet extended his hand, and warily, Darcy grasped it.
"You make my daughter happy, and though I personally cannot see how, I know that Elizabeth is an intelligent woman, and I trust her judgment. Though you did not have my blessing before, you have it now, though I know it means nothing to you." The old man quieted on these last words, his eyes, which had once held Darcy's, now moved to the side, gazing out to sea. He dropped his hand to his side.
Elizabeth took it in her own, smiling up at her father. "Thank you," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Thank you Father. Your blessing does matter. You've no idea how much it matters papa."
He looked down into his daughters face. She still loved him. She still respected and needed him. Though she was married to a very worthy, handsome, intelligent and noble man, it changed nothing about the way she felt for him, her father.
He pulled her into his arms and sobbed silently into her ear, "I'm sorry Lizzy. So very, very sorry my dear." They remained locked in their embrace for some time, surrounded by the curious silence of the onlookers.
When he felt composed, Mr. Bennet pulled away and straightened himself. He turned to address his new son in law. "I would like to join in any festivities that might go on tonight… if you will have me."
"Of course we will," spoke Darcy without a moment's hesitation. You are my wife's father, and for her, you are welcome in my house.
The guards posted at the gangplank had not let her on the boat. No one, they told her, was to board after Mr. Darcy had. They had been direct orders from the pretty young girl with sparkling brown eyes and bouncing dark curls.
So Caroline had watched the ceremony with cold rage from the back of a deserted cart. She knew she could not gain access to the boat without creating a scene. She would not create a scene! It was simply not something Caroline Bingley did. She did not stay to see the rather complying kidnapped groom stoop to kiss the lips of his new wife. She had, instead, began her plan of action. Darcy and the country wench were legally married now, but was her life over? Were her plans ruined? No! Caroline Bingley was nothing if not resilient. With this in mind, she went off in search of the fastest boat in dock. She would reach England by tomorrow night, Rosings by the next morning, and within two more days, have the righteously indignant and overly repellant Collins as her ally.
Caroline, though usually sensible, could not admit defeat in this case. For by the time she returned with Collins at her side, the marriage act, considering the excited impatience of not only Darcy, but Elizabeth as well, was quite likely to have taken place already. Several times… if Darcy had anything to do with it… which he most certainly did.
Darcy stepped into the carriage and pulled the dark curtains over the windows. Taking a deep breath, he sat across from his wife, wishing to talk first. For he knew that once he touched her, there would be no time for talking, no breath for it. He had nearly carried her away into one of the Anne's rooms when he had kissed her to end the ceremony. To control himself, he concentrated on his wife's smiling eyes.
"Are you alright with going back to the house?"
"Yes," she answered softly. "I prefer it. We would take up every single room in that small inn if our small army insisted on staying there. But… surely you did not have to hire another carriage. We might have just borrowed your messenger's horse for my father to ride, and traveled back the same way we traveled here."
"With me on a horse and you in a carriage with silly young girls and an injured young boy? No. Besides, Mrs. Jones is better suited to ride in there. They do not have a governess any longer. Their mother has returned." He smiled. She had traded the title of governess for that of Mrs. Darcy. It was the most wonderful thing in the world… though it had taken a deuced long time in happening!
"Yes, but there is still room for me, if Hinton sat on one of our laps. And then you would only have had to get the horse for father," countered the ever sensible Elizabeth.
"Madam pirate… I would not expect someone who has just forced a man into marriage to not want to be alone with him. You should be asserting your superiority over me. Am I your slave now? Is that why you've captured me?"
She laughed musically and Darcy almost vaulted out of his seat to take her into his arms. But, clinching his fists, kept his position across from her. "William… Dread Pirate Darcy, you are not my captive, not my slave. You are my husband. And since I am the Pirate Queen, you are now my King, and we shall have to rule the high seas ruthlessly together. It's just that…"
"Yes Elizabeth? You can tell me anything."
"It's just that you must stay over on that side of the carriage."
Darcy erupted in jovial laughter and Elizabeth scowled when it seemed that he could not stop.
"I do not see that anything is funny Mr. Darcy!"
He answered her in between bursts of laughter and gasps for breath. "Oh my dear Elizabeth, do you mean that you do not feel it quite safe to be alone in a carriage with your husband!"
She blushed. How could she not! "It's just that. Darcy… you cannot begin to understand how I love you I believe. And I'm afraid that if you kiss me… then I will not want you to stop. And… nothing about our marriage or courtship has been typical, traditional, normal. And I find that it does not bother me as much as I thought it would… only… I'd like for our wedding night to be very special. And a carriage does not strike me as a wonderfully romantic place to make love!" She ended with her eyes boring into his, daring him to make fun of her.
"Elizabeth, I would never… I could never… do you think so low of me?"
"Well, you are very passionate, and very impulsive."
Darcy wanted to laugh, but did not want to step on the sensibilities of his new wife. "Those seem to be characteristics I've only just recently developed. You seem to have triggered the passionate, impulsive side of me, dear heart.
"But you've nothing to worry about. I've a surprise for you… for tonight. It's a place I've dreamed of us being man and wife in… and it is the only place I wish to take you to tonight. Until then, you are completely safe from me."
"Completely safe?" she asked, her face changing from serious to playful in an instant.
"Of course! Do you doubt me?" he said, playfully indignant.
"No. And to prove my trust… come sit by me my husband. I find that I would like to spend the remainder of our trip with your arm about my shoulders."
And of course Darcy was helpless to resist. She was, after all, the pirate queen, and a mere pirate king was nothing to the charms and wiles of his woman. Moving to her side, he pulled her frame against his own and slipped his arm about her gently sloping shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyelids pulled softly down over her fine eyes. The eyes that had first attracted him to her. They were his now. She was his! How had he been so lucky? He kissed her gently yet possessively, and then with a contented sigh, she rested her head upon his shoulder, and closed her eyes to sleep. It had after all, been quite an eventful day.
Elaina and Richards had somehow connived to deprive Mr. Bennet from his horse, setting him up quite comfortably inside the other carriage in Elaina's stead. Elaina had only ever ridden a horse twice in her life, but found that if was something she wished thoroughly to know how to do, and well. So she listened patiently to the commands given her by her riding companion, oblivious to the curious stares her own father was cutting towards her.
When Richards was quite sure that she had the hang of it, and was not going to fall to her doom, he paced his horse beside her, and they dropped a considerable distance behind the carriages and Mr. Jones, who was leading the party.
"Elaina… May I speak with your father… about us?" Jonathan's voice was timid, quiet, unsure, and the deep timbre of it made Elaine blush and sigh deeply all at once.
"Please do. Tonight?"
"Yes! If the opportunity arises… most certainly!"
"What about right now? He's alone, and has nothing to do, nothing to otherwise occupy his attentions. It's perfect Jonboy. You cannot say no."
He frowned his disagreement, but looking from her determined playful eyes to her father riding ahead alone, he realized that she was right. Now was the perfect time. And he was sure that her father was not blind, nor a fool. He was quite aware that there was something between his daughter and Mr. Darcy's secretary… the impoverished amateur writer. Impoverished… surely Mr. Jones would not mind. But… did Richards himself mind? He would not be able to provide for the girl he loved; he would not be able to give her the comfortable life that her father had given her. She would be back at square one with him… thrown back into the poverty she had lived in when she lived with her mother.
She was still watching him, pushing him to make his intentions known to her father. He threw her a weak smile and pushed his horse forward.
Mr. Jones's shoulders were broad, strong, as if he had spent his life doing battle, and would at any moment be poised to re-enter it. Had the battle he had fought been for his daughters? Would he still wage wars on their behalves? Richards somehow knew he would.
"Mr. Jones… I wish to speak with you sir."
"I've expected this Richards. You may, of course, have your say, but I will speak first. And you will listen." The two men rode side by side, staring forward into the shaded unknown of the tree lined road.
"Yes, of course sir."
"You wish for the hand of my daughter Elaina. Is that right?"
Richards nodded his answer, and Mr. Jones's head shifted ever so slightly to see it. "I thought so. I assume Elaina has told you our story. Indeed, she never leaves a story untold. So I assume that you realize that I have only just regained my daughters. I'd not seen my Elaina for thirteen years, and was only able to have her with me as a part of my life for a year now. She would not leave with me without her sister. And I did not want to leave without Rene either. I wonder… do you appreciate your talks with her as I do? Do you marvel at her wit and feel pride at her beauty?
"But these are unfair questions. You are not her father. You cannot feel the same way for her that I do.
"You are a good man Jonathan Richards. And I believe that you have my daughter's best interests at heart. You may marry my daughter. I ask but one thing." He ended, now turning fully to face the young man riding beside him. His face was grave, his brown eyes young and vital once more, refusing to be denied. The man, thought Richards, could have a vicious temper is provoked.
"Anything sir. Anything for Elaina's hand." And he meant it.
"I would tell you not to be scared, but I find that I want you that way concerning my daughter. I will not see her hurt or lacking in any way. And since I believe that denying you in her life would hurt her immeasurably, I cannot, I will not do it. But I must insist that you have a long engagement."
"That's all!" exclaimed Richards with much relief. Truthfully, he would prefer a quick marriage much like Mr. Darcy and Miss. Elizabeth…Mrs. Darcy now… but if a long engagement was the only thing that Elaina's father asked of him, then he would surely comply.
"Yes boy, that is all. You may marry her when you will be able to provide adequately for her. When you have made your fortune. Not a large one mind you, because she will have money enough in her own right, but a good sized one. I do not care how you go about doing this. If it comes to you by your art, then so be it, and the happier for you. But if your writing will not pay off, then you must consider looking in other directions. Do you understand Richards?"
"Yes. I understand. And I agree. I myself was rather ashamed about having nothing to give to her. I will do my best sir, and my best, you may be assured, is more than most men's." The determination now shone sharp from Richard's eyes, and Mr. Jones laughed lowly.
"I believe you Richards, I believe you."