Chapter 8 Scampering About the Woods
Elizabeth hurried down to the kitchen, the cook and scullery maids were used to her little visits, begging them for some victuals in the morning.
The rest of the house, apart from the eldest Mr Darcy, were seldom seen before ten o'clock and no one ever ventured down to the kitchen. Miss Elizabeth had created quite a stir, the first time she had come down to beg for something to eat on her morning strolls. She had thought nothing of it until she saw the shocked expressions of the servants. At Longbourn, no one raised a brow at Elizabeth entering the kitchen but this was Pemberley. Having already committed the faux pas, Elizabeth saw no reason to leave empty-handed and had presented her errand as nonchalantly as her embarrassment permitted. The staff liked her though and soon she was greeted like it was a common occurrence that the residents of Pemberley visited the kitchen. Miss Bingley might have received a colder welcome but Miss Elizabeth was generally liked, even amongst the servants.
"Thank you, Betty." She smiled at the girl who handed her an apple and a leftover roll from last nights dinner. She left by a back door that led towards the path she was aiming for this morning. There was so little time left to scour and so much beautiful nature yet to explore. She sighed, she would never make all the visits she had envisioned but there was one view, in particular, she could not leave Pemberley without experiencing. The panoramic view of the Hunting Tower was worth the uphill climb.
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She stood on the edge, admiring the view. The cascading waters sparkled in the early morning sun—surrounded by blooms and shrubbery. It was going to be a good day, her aunt and uncle were expected to arrive around midday. They were to stay at the Rose and Crown, visiting friends and relations for a week before they headed home to London. On their journey north, they had visited Dove Dale, Chatsworth and Blenheim and must have much to tell.
The sun reached her countenance as it rose above the treetops, she tilted her head to bask in the warm rays, letting the mild breeze rustle the ringlets by her temples. She opened her eyes, slowly, and stared into a set of deep blue eyes that were too close for comfort and bent over her head, upside down. Where had he come from? Who was he? She had not seen anyone about a mere moment ago.
Elizabeth blinked, as she straightened her neck; a hand closed over her mouth while an arm wound around her waist and pulled her flush against the hard plains of the stranger's body. She froze for a mere moment, not from fear exactly but more like stunned into immobility. Her wits soon returned as her courage rose from indignation. She to screamed but the hand was too tight around her mouth, the sounds she emanated sounded like a muffled piglet; too weak to be heard.
"Hush, someone might be around."
Elizabeth's thoughts exactly, which were why she was trying to scream in the first place. She tried to wrench herself from the grip around her waist but the knave only grunted and tightened his grip.
"I mean you no harm but those miscreants at Pemberley are dangerous, I am trying to rescue you!"
That was rich coming from someone who had just accosted her and robbed her of her ability to speak and move! If anyone was a scoundrel it was certainly the ogre that had clamped her mouth and had the audacity to hold her by the waist.
"I need your help... Ouch!"
Elizabeth stamped her foot on the villain's toes, he yelped, cursed and butted her head. She guessed the latter was an accident brought on by her trampling of his toes. The thought of his forehead probably would hurt more than her hard scalp gave her a small sense of victory until he spread his legs wide to avoid a repeat performance.
"Please," he whispered in her ear and loosened the hand that clutched her mouth. "There is a murderer..."
Elizabeth screamed at the top of her lungs. She was in no mood to hear the villains wile accusations against people she deemed as her friends. How stupid did he think she was?
The hand clamped back down on her mouth.
Elizabeth tried to think before she reacted. The seconds cost her dearly, it was enough for the scoundrel to lock her legs with one of his. The hand around her waist let go but she was held in an iron grip around the head, close to his person while he struggled to remove his cravat which he used to tie a gag around her mouth. Her hands were pulled to her back before he lifted her and flung her over his shoulder.
She must weigh nothing to the stranger because he set out with long strides in a northern direction while Elizabeth kicked and screamed through the gag. After a few minutes of fighting, he stopped, tied her legs together and linked her hands to her feet. She still managed to buckle but not much.
Fear surged through Elizabeth, she tried to cover her tremble by pulling all her muscles taut but she doubted she met with much success.
He was taking her further and further away from Pemberley. What could be his purpose? Who was he? She had not gotten a good look at anything else but the blue eyes and whisks of long dark hair. The eyes looked strangely familiar but she could not say who they might belong to. What she was certain of was that he was very tall or he could not have towered over her like that. The only man she knew with that kind of height was Mr Darcy senior, who had blue eyes but his was wrinkled and his hair had silver streaks. This man was much younger. Mr George Darcy had very distinct green eyes and a lighter shade of brown hair, it was definitely not he.
Could he have mistaken her for somebody else? Someone with a fortune he could demand as compensation for her release? The dastard would be sorely disappointed when he discovered she was merely Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. The daughter of a country squire that has less than fifty pounds to her name and a thousand pounds inheritance she would not receive before her mother passed.
Mrs Bennet had just turned forty years, it would be a long wait. She chuckled at the thought, half out of her wits she reckoned since she could find humour at such a dire moment. It must be the fluttering nerves and palpitations she felt in her chest that drove her to it.
They had reached the bottom of the hill; she could feel the terrain flattening out although she could see nothing but the idiot's derrière and her tresses who had come loose from its pins. The brute said not a word... She guessed she was on the wrong side of where she would prefer to be but she could not be certain.
The reprobate carrying her shifted her around. Finally, she waited for him to release her legs so that she could stand on her own two feet. It did not happen, instead, she was tossed over the back of a horse, laying on her stomach. The man mounted and kicked off into a full gallop. She was dangling awkwardly over the horse's neck with no possibility to grab anything to steady herself. She lifted off the horse with every step and pounded down on the poor animal every time the hooves touched the ground. It must be as uncomfortable for the steed as it was for herself.
Her stomach and ribs got the brunt of it, she could not quench the groan, neither could she stem the tears burning in her eyes. It was a good thing she was gagged, the fabric soaked up what was leaking from her eyes and moistened her dry mouth. She swore to herself that the bastard would never see her cry if it took everything she got. He did not deserve the satisfaction of seeing he had succeeded in hurting her.
The horse eventually slowed to a trot which did not enhance her comfort but rather made the humps come more frequently but with less force. She was so sore at this point that she rather thought a grazing feather would hurt. She was in hell! She must have been struck by lightning, had perished without noticing and had ended up in this burning inferno because of a sin she had committed. Honour thou parents she was culpable of sinful thoughts if none of her actions had been.
Her legs felt different, she registered before she realised that they had been loosened with her hands. She thought of grabbing the mane of the horse to steady herself when she was hoisted up into a sitting position. The arm around her waist dug into her bruised ribs and she could not quench the shriek that followed.
The sudden light burned her eyes. She blinked to adjust, wanting to know where she was but the landscape did and did not, look familiar. She could not ask the rogue as she still had the gag in her mouth.
She guessed it was the river Derwent he was leading them towards to let his horse drink but she could not be certain but it was unlikely they had ridden long enough to reach another river of its size. Elizabeth tried to picture the map over Derbyshire in Pemberley's library. Hopefully, they would continue along its bank.
The knave had to sleep sometime and when he did, she would follow the river home or rather, back to Pemberley where her aunt and uncle would arrive and take her home to Longbourn. She was never setting foot in Derbyshire ever again. Its perks did not way up for its shortcomings.
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They rode for most of the day, occasionally letting the horse rest and drink. Neither spoke. Elizabeth had not the opportunity with her mouth gagged but thought she had no need to as she was not keeping his company for much longer. She did study him when they dismounted on their second stop by the river. He left her where she was sitting and bent down by the embankment, ran his hand into the water and drank greedily. She watched as her stomach growled and she realised that she was exceedingly thirsty. The gag had dried what moister she had had in her mouth but to get to the water, she must dismount the enormous horse she was currently clutching on to for dear life and untie the gag. Would he let her or would he deny her?
She had no choice but to let herself slide down the side of the black beast. She hit the ground with a thud, rose with great difficulty but she managed without asking the lowlife for his aid which was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. She would not exhibit any fear but neither would she appear as she needed him or show him any deference.
After untying her gag, she drank greedily while she checked her pocket. It still carried the roll she had been given by a kitchen maid this morning. She could eat it now or save it for later. Would the villain take it from her if she showed him she had food? She should better not risk it.
The lowlife stood too close for comfort; he was obviously expecting her to try to escape. She better lull him into believing she would not until a better opportunity presented itself. To run now would just be stupid, her much shorter legs would make her easily overtaken although she prided herself of being quite the accomplished runner.
She let her gaze travel up his form as she rose from her hunched position by the river bank.
He wore boots but most of them were covered by coarse woad-coloured trousers made of homespun wool. Elizabeth suspected that wherever he came from, they did not have a spinning wheel but still used the drop spindle with a whorl.
He wore a waistcoat in the same fabric as his trousers and a linen shirt. His arms were currently crossed at his chest in an intimidating posture. His countenance, however, was the most symmetric she had ever seen. Blue eyes regarded her with an intensity she found unsettling but she was not going to show him any trepidation. She mirrored his stance and donned her most haughty expression which made the corner of his mouth twitch.
He was rakishly handsome. No, that did not cover it, he was the perfection of countenance. This must be the kind of man Mrs Darcy had spoken about. Not an ordinary handsomeness but an ethereal beauty that must have cost him his heart and soul—evil through and through like the dryads of the myths. She was certainly not going to succumb to any of his charms of which there were none besides his outer appearance.
Elizabeth sucked in her cheeks, pursed her lips and glared back at him. She did not know where to put her hands so she rested them on her hips. If he was taking an intimidating stance, so could she.
"Your gag must have been too tight; your eyes are red-rimmed."
"Would you deem it gentlemanly to point out lacks in a lady's appearance?"
His face cracked into a smile, revealing perfect white teeth. He could at least have had a crooked tooth if there had been any justice in the world.
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The sun was about to set, he must stop soon. The horse was barely moving forward, utterly exhausted. This could not be any more comfortable for the horse than it was for her battered and bruised body. Gentlemen, in general, seemed to care much for their steeds, would a rouge be of similar sentiment?
She felt a strange sensation of a bond forming between herself and the horse, tied to this brute of a man against their will.
She had expected them to bed down for the night at an inn or at least an old hunting cabin. It was not to be. Mr Whomever, finally stopped by a large oak tree with enormous branches stretching out over their heads. He dismounted and tied off the horse while Elizabeth fell to the ground in much the same manner as before—with very little grace.
Mr Brute, she decided to call him as he had offered her no name and she was certainly not going to beg for an introduction, was currently finding moss and leaves, throwing it on the ground at the foot of the great oak. Bedding, she surmised to her discomfort.
While he was thus occupied, she munched clandestinely on her roll. The last she had eaten was an apple in the morning. She was ravenous and not inclined to share her little morsel with the overgrown brute. He did not notice and she was able to finish her roll without having to share.
When he deemed the ground sufficiently soft, he opened his saddlebag and pulled out a tartan and some stale bread and a suspicious-looking cheese Elizabeth was very happy she could wrinkle her nose at and shake her head in rejection. He looked surprised but did not push her to take part in his meal. He devoured the bread and cheese while she sauntered down to the river. They had not left the horse since her gag had been removed and she drank her fill.
Unfortunately, the water made the need to refresh a pressing matter. How was she supposed to address such a delicate matter with a caveman? She simply decided not to and sauntered innocently to the left when she came back from the river. Missing the oak with a few yards and continued into the woodland behind it. She needed a bush or rather a cluster of bushes or a large rock to hide behind. She found the latter, a large boulder that would conceal her from any prying eyes. She stopped and turned to lift her skirts but the reprobate had managed to follow her without making a single sound; her temper flared.
"Would you mind?" she lifted one eyebrow to accentuate his ridiculous stalking.
He shook his head and did not budge.
"I need some privacy!" Even a child would understand that request and he did, sort of. He turned his back at her but did not leave as she wanted him to.
"You cannot possibly expect me to refresh myself with you hovering over me at a few feet's distance!"
He took one step away.
Elizabeth threw her hands in the air which he could not see with his back turned yet she would swear he smiled like the imbecile he was. It did not matter. In a few hours, she would be far away from him. She was never going to see him again and he was not going to tell anyone because that would be admitting to a criminal offence that would have him hanging by a noose. It was almost so tempting an image that she might not mind the embarrassment.
Elizabeth got her business over with and stomped back to camp. He gestured for her to lay down by the foot of the tree. She hesitated, could he have nefarious intentions beyond sleeping? The thought had not entered her mind until now. Oh, why had she not run sooner?
"Lay down! I know it is not the comfort you are used to."
"Comfort? I..." Elizabeth's gaze shifted between the makeshift bed and reprobate beside her, he could not expect her to succumb willingly. The blackguard had the audacity to look annoyed before disbelief clouded his features.
"I can assure you, you are safe from me, the thought is insufferable!"
The last end of his sentence was delivered with much conviction. His eyes were ablaze with fury while the downturned corners of his mouth spoke of his distaste at the notion. Elizabeth was convinced he had not taken her because of some personal interest. It must be for monetary gain of which he would be sorely disappointed.
"I have only your safety in mind," he added with a deep frown.
Elizabeth scoffed, "I was perfectly safe at Pemberley, you may return me dither on the morrow. I promise I will not mention this little incident to anyone if you do. I am not of a mind to have my reputation nor that of my sisters destroyed. I will simply tell everyone that I got lost in the woods. No one needs to be any wiser."
"Out of the question, you have no idea what dangers lurk in the halls of that viper's nest. Mr Darcy is not to be trusted."
"I am not inclined to listen to you, of all people, disparaging my dear friends!"
"Suit yourself!"
Mr Brute stomped off to see to his horse but not far enough for her to try to escape. Elizabeth thought that to feign sleep and wait until he succumbed would be her best chance. She lay down on the appointed location and listened intently to his movements. It had not been wise to agitate him because he was pacing restlessly, back and forth behind her back. It felt like an eternity before he lay down beside her, careful not to touch her person, a blessing she included in her evening prayer. One must be satisfied with small mercies when there were none other to be had.
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Elizabeth waited patiently for the miscreant behind her back to fall asleep while avoiding the same state for herself. It would not do to wake up here in the morning. She did not feel exhausted but invigorated by the thought of escaping his clutches.
Her patience paid off. Mr Brute's even breath produced soft snoring sounds. He had finally fallen asleep, neither was he touching her which made the task of wriggling herself away from him a little easier. She jiggled out of the tartan he had covered them both in, managed to get up into a crawling position whilst making sure she did not touch him and slithered from the captivators clutch.
Elizabeth tiptoed down to the river she intended to follow to the safety of Pemberley. Her days of roaming around unattended out of doors were at an end, if she could just manage to walk home without any food to eat.
She realised she would not be able to walk as fast as they had ridden but two days should be sufficient and she had plenty of water. The berries on the woodland floor were ripe for the picking, there might be a few left even if it was a little late in the season.