Disclaimer: Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights do not belong to me.
Note: Dear Lord, it's been eight years since I started this thing? This is why I don't start a story until I know how it's going to end, because otherwise I'll take forever to finish it.
"An Unexpected Encounter"
Chapter Three: Out on the Wiley, Windy Moors
Elizabeth shivered. The night had grown colder and with it, so had her companion. She watched Heathcliff warily. After his outburst regarding his unfaithful sweetheart, he had sunk into moody silence. Not unlike the dark moods that drifted over her husband, on occasion. Though at least when Fitzwilliam was in a foul temper, he was at home or away from her. Not alone with her outside in the moors in the dead of night.
An icy wind swept over her skin. Elizabeth rubbed her arms, doubting that her goosebumps were entirely caused by the chill. Having exhausted his rage, Heathcliff now seemed content to ignore her. At several points, she was forced to pick up her skirts and chase after him, so vigorously he outpaced her. At no point did he apologize for leaving her behind or slow his pace, and after a few failed retorts, she had ceased her complaints. He was her only hope of finding her husband.
When his fury had subsided, Elizabeth had hoped that his mood would mellow. But the opposite seemed to be true. She could see the deep-seated hints of anger lingering in his features. Every so often, his mouth would curl and Elizabeth, thinking that he intended to speak, would wait. Instead, his teeth would bare into a sneer before his mouth would lapse back into a grimace.
She had no notion of what ominous thoughts were drifting through his mind, but she dearly hoped that she was not the subject of them.
She surveyed the moors, hoping that they would come across another, less temperamental wanderer. Moonlight glided over the hill's vegetation and for a moment, Elizabeth was struck by the moor's beauty. It was still cold and barren, but perhaps in the stronger light of the sun, the shrubs and bushes would look as picturesque as flowers.
Her eyes veered back to her companion. And, perhaps, Heathcliff would not seem as forbidding. One look at his scowling countenance and her fingers gripped the folds of her skirts. Perhaps.
She cleared her throat. "I never noticed before, but the moors are quite lovely." She attempted a smile. "Perhaps my husband and I could return for a nice walk in the daytime, when it's not as much trouble to get lost."
Heathcliff snorted. "You wish to go to the moor for a stroll?"
"Of course not." The wind tousled her bonnet. "The moor is far too vast for a simple stroll. Besides, I love to walk."
Heathcliff's eyebrows rose. "You do?"
"Oh, yes." She nodded. "Once I walked all the way from Longbourn to Netherfield, which are three miles apart. It was quite a shocking sight for my husband."
He blinked and then the corners of his mouth curled. "He was probably wondering what a self-respecting lady was doing tramping across the countryside."
Elizabeth laughed lightly. "Well, he did say that he would not like his sister to make such an exhibition. And I am afraid that my walk did nothing to improve me in the eyes of his best friend's sisters." A warm glow settled in her chest as she remembered her husband's blush when he confessed that he had secretly found her disheveled state to be bewitching. "But I still go on walks and he does not mind."
"Oh?" Heathcliff cocked his head. "So, he didn't stamp that out of you?"
She shook her head with a smile. "No. He knew that I was a low-born girl from the country when he married me." She imitated a woeful look. "So, alas, that is his lot to bear."
A smile tugged at his lips and Elizabeth felt a pang of relief as they walked on.
It was not long, however, until Heathcliff's mood darkened again. With a wistful look, he said quietly, "You don't think that Linton will stamp it out of Cathy, do you?"
Elizabeth winced. She had hoped that this subject would never be mentioned again. "I...I do not know." She weighed her words carefully. "I have never met them, sir, so I am in no position to..."
"Because he can't!" He shook his head wildly. "Cathy can say that she's a noble lady, but she and I know the truth. He can't tame her!" Despair seeped into his voice. "I can't live without her – I can't!"
What do I say? Elizabeth wondered, her fingers digging into her skirts. "Sir?"
Upon seeing the anguish on his face, her voice softened. "Mr. Heathcliff?" With a racing heart, she stepped closer. "Mr. Heathcliff, you cannot continue to torment yourself like this. I know that you love Cathy, but there are other women in the world and you must –"
His teeth clenched. "There is no other woman for me."
"Mr. Heathcliff..."
"No!" The exclamation shot out from him like gunfire. Elizabeth backed away, shocked by the ferocity in his expression. "She is mine, I am hers, and that Linton whelp can go to hell!"
His hands convulsed and Elizabeth, her heart leaping in alarm, fancied that he was imagining how best to strangle his rival in love.
As if reading her thoughts, he whipped around. Elizabeth shrank upon seeing the malevolent look in his eyes.
Of all the men in the world that I could chance upon in this ghastly place, she thought, her heart hammering. She took a step back.
He glared at her, his face darkening.
I wonder what Mama would say, A hysterical laugh bubbled in Elizabeth's chest. Yes, Mama, it was quite an act of impropriety to wander alone with a fiend in the middle of the night. At least he had the forethought to murder me before I could put a black mark on the name of Darcy!
Common sense took over and she chastised herself for weakness. Steadying her heart, she mustered up her courage. "Well...I do hope that we haven't gotten lost, sir," she said with a smile that she hoped did not betray her fear. Her eyes flitted over the barren ground, hoping to find a rock within her reach. "These moors are lovely, but you must agree that they are no substitute for a proper bed. You have been so good as to guide me, but I feel that I have taken far too much of your time. If you will permit me, I shall leave to find my husband myself."
Heathcliff did not respond, and her pulse quickened. "Unless you wish to continue our search?"
His shoulders tensed, as if waiting for something.
"Sir?"
"Heathcliff!"
He sprang forward, as if cut from a leash. Elizabeth barely had time to turn around to see who had called before Heathcliff barreled past her. She tottered, nearly falling over. Righting herself, she peered out to see where the miserable devil had rushed off.
He had scrambled down the hill and Elizabeth could see two people with him. One was a woman, her hair floating in the wind. The other was a man with a horse.
Her heart leaped. "Mr. Darcy!"
The man's head shot up. Casting all thoughts of impropriety to the wind, she drew up her skirts and dashed down the hill, praying that she was not in error.
Her feet pounded against the hard dirt, and she barely registered Heathcliff and the unknown lady as she saw, to her immense relief, that it was her husband. Swallowing her sob, she skidded to a stop and then flung herself towards him. "Fitzwilliam!"
He lunged forward and caught her, his strong arms enveloping her within seconds. "Elizabeth!"
She buried her face in his chest. Pressing her cheek against the warm, soft fabric of his coat, she inhaled the familiar scents of horse and cologne.
He cradled her close. "I was so frightened," he whispered. "All I could think about was you, wandering alone with that accursed horse."
She broke into a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Oh, that horse." She raised his eyes to meet his. "My love, can you ever forgive me?"
He caressed her face. "Elizabeth, it wasn't your fault."
"No, you were right. I never should have mounted that brute." Her smile wavered. "Now you have lost one of your prized horses, because even he could see how silly I was, and I have caused you such trouble and now everyone in Derbyshire will know what a fine fool Mrs. Darcy is..."
He kissed her forehead. "You're safe and that's all that matters." He lowered his mouth to her lips and she relaxed into his kiss.
With a pang of embarrassment, Elizabeth remembered her companion. "Wait, Fitzwilliam." She reluctantly withdrew from her husband's embrace. "There is someone whom you should thank. While looking for you, I encountered a fellow wanderer in the moor."
He blinked, and his cheeks colored. "Yes, so did I." Clearing his throat, he turned them both around, his arm still around Elizabeth's waist. "Miss Earnshaw, may I present my..."
His words trailed off and Elizabeth saw, to her surprise, that Heathcliff and the young lady had not appeared to notice the emotional display between her and her husband. Or anything at all, aside from each other.
Heathcliff was staring at the young woman with an expression that Elizabeth found rather discomforting. His eyes were dark and intense as they bored into the young lady's face.
She swayed towards him, no less entranced. Elizabeth observed that the young woman was rather pretty. Her hair, loose and tousled by the wind, draped over her shoulders in luxuriant dark curls. In the moonlight, Elizabeth could see that she was fair of skin and the bearing of her shoulders indicated nobility. Yet there was something in the curve of her mouth that Elizabeth did not like. Or perhaps it was the expression in her eyes, no less intense than Heathcliff's, as she drank in his features.
"Cathy..."
Elizabeth's eyes widened. This was Cathy? The young woman whom Heathcliff had ranted and stormed about?
"Heathcliff..." the young woman breathed, her hands entwining in his dark, matted hair.
Cheeks flushing, Elizabeth exchanged a look with her husband. Already discomfited due to their want of propriety, he now seemed doubly embarrassed to be witnessing another's. He cleared his throat again. "Pardon me...Miss Earnshaw?"
The lovers did not appear to hear him. Darcy's horse gave a faint snort, and Elizabeth imagined that it too was dismayed. Elizabeth turned to the animal with a smile. "And how are you, Benedict?" The horse lowered his head as she stroked his brown muzzle.
Watching the enraptured couple, Elizabeth said, "Perhaps we should leave them alone, Fitzwilliam."
With a sigh of impatience, Darcy raised his voice. "Miss Earnshaw!"
Heathcliff and Cathy Earnshaw broke apart and whipped round to face Darcy. Heathcliff was glowering while Cathy bore a sulky expression. "What the devil is it?" Cathy snapped.
Darcy's voice was cool. "I simply wished to introduce my wife to you. And to thank you for escorting me through the moor."
"Your wife...oh, that's right." Cathy cocked her head. "The one who likes to take long walks? Yes, I remember." She laughed, tossing her mane of hair back. "This gent couldn't stop talking about you. I told him that we ought to go for a walk together."
"Oh, I...thank you." Feeling a bit of trepidation, Elizabeth nevertheless curtsied. "My name is Elizabeth Darcy. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Earnshaw." She rose, a willing smile on her face. "Thank you for assisting my husband. I'm afraid that neither of us is familiar with these moors."
"You should come here more often," said Cathy. She gave Heathcliff a queer smile. "Heathcliff and I used to play together here all the time when we were young."
"Heathcliff?" Darcy's eyebrows rose. To Elizabeth's surprise, she saw a drop of pity flicker across his face.
With affected lightness, Elizabeth said, "Oh, yes, Mr. Heathcliff mentioned you." She turned to Heathcliff. "Mr. Heathcliff, this is my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." She clasped Darcy's hand. "Mr. Heathcliff was my guide through the moors, Mr. Darcy."
"Oh, is that so?" Darcy assumed a stiff politeness and bowed. "Then you have my thanks, sir."
Heathcliff watched him in silence and Elizabeth prayed that he would not have another outburst. "So...the two of you are off, then?" he said impatiently.
Yes, the sooner the better.
"Now, Heathcliff, don't be rude!" Cathy scolded him. "I hate to think of what you told this poor woman about me."
"What I told her?" Heathcliff's eyes flashed. He pointed at Darcy. "And what were you telling this dandy, Cathy? That's a fancy coat he's got. Nice horse, too." Heathcliff shot Benedict a contemptuous look. "Why, I'd wager that he's even richer than that milksop you've been swooning over."
"Don't you talk about Edgar like that!" Cathy's voice rose to a shriek. Elizabeth flinched, startled by the sudden change in Miss Earnshaw's mood.
"How would you prefer that I talk about the man who swooped in and stole my love away?" Heathcliff roared. "A pitiful, useless whelp who doesn't understand you –"
"He'll make me the grandest lady in all the land! You're just jealous that he can give me that and you can't!"
Elizabeth was speechless. She had assumed that Heathcliff's description of his lady love's motivations was exaggerated, the result of self-pity and histrionics. She had been quite ready to pity Cathy, for having once been involved with such a brute. But now that Elizabeth observed her and Heathcliff, each glaring at each other and panting like two dogs eying each other in a fight, she was uncertain as to which of them was more unpleasant.
"Oh, am I?" Heathcliff's lip curled. He turned to Darcy. "What's your name again? Darcy?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's a shame that this Darcy fellow's already married. Just imagine the fine houses you'd have then, Cathy." Cruelty twisted his mouth. "Then again, if he is really the fine fellow that Mrs. Darcy says he is, perhaps he could spare you a bauble or two, whenever his wife isn't enough for him."
Darcy's face whitened and Elizabeth stifled a gasp. She knew that Heathcliff was an ill-mannered boor, but to suggest such a thing? And to the woman who, according to him, was his very soul?
Simmering with fury, she released Darcy's hand and marched forward.
"How dare you!" screamed Cathy, halting Elizabeth in her tracks. "How dare you imply that I could – that I could lower myself to such a –"
"Oh?" He rounded on her. "And how is that different from what you're suggesting, my dear? Do you think me a simpleton? You can't wait to wear Linton's ring, but you'll still drag me out to the moor while his back is turned?" Heathcliff's voice grew incoherent with rage. "Delilah was a saint compared to you – faithless, conniving fiend that you are!"
Darcy strode forward. "That is enough, sir!" His voice rang with cold authority. "Whether or not that is true, that is no way to speak to a lady."
"Oh, go to hell, you feckless fool!"
Elizabeth's eyes blazed. "And I would thank you, sir, not to address my husband in such a manner." Heathcliff glared at her, but she refused to flinch. She stared back at him, meeting his black glare defiantly.
Her voice was polite but cool. "Thank you for your assistance. As you can see, I am in no further need of your services and I see no reason for our association to continue." She curtsied to him and then faced Cathy. "I wish you joy of him, Miss Earnshaw. In fact, I cannot imagine any two people more well-suited to one another. I hope that Mr. Linton will agree."
Heathcliff let out a bark of a laugh and Cathy grew scarlet.
"Goodnight."
She took hold of Darcy's arm and motioned towards Benedict. "Shall we go, my dear?"
His eyes narrowed, Darcy replied, "Gladly." He bowed to Heathcliff and Cathy. "Goodnight, sir. Madam."
As soon as Elizabeth was securely seated on Benedict, he swung himself up and gave the horse a hard kick. Benedict broke into a gallop and before long, Heathcliff and Cathy were shadows in the distance.
Darcy tightened the reins and Benedict eased into a canter. Darcy gave a sigh. "What a night." He looked over his shoulder. "How are you feeling, my dear?"
Elizabeth gave him a tired smile. "Much better now that I'm with you." She slumped against his back. "Would you think me unkind if I wished to never lay eyes on those two again?"
He laughed. "If you are unkind, then so am I, for I harbor the same sentiments." He returned his gaze to the front. "Though I am grateful to that young man for guiding you, I confess that the thought of you being alone with him alarms me."
"It alarmed me," she mumbled. "How on earth Miss Earnshaw can stand to be with him..."
Darcy gave a sharp laugh. "During my walk with her, I wondered how Heathcliff could stand to be with her. She told me the whole sorry tale of her engagement and seemed to be only concerned with how much trouble it was for her." He shook his head. "I have not yet met this Linton fellow, but if he is wise, he should steer clear of both of them."
"But Miss Earnshaw and Heathcliff made it quite clear that she was engaged to him." Elizabeth paused. "Still, the scandal of a broken engagement would be a happier fate compared to living with those two. In their...arrangement." Her voice dripped with disgust.
"Agreed."
They rode on. The wind streaked past them and Elizabeth shivered. "Do you know the way back, Fitzwilliam?"
"Miss Earnshaw pointed the direction to Thrushcross Grange during our walk. We could ask the Lintons for assistance." Darcy paused. "Though I suppose that I should have asked for directions a few minutes ago."
Elizabeth snorted. "They did not seem inclined to help." She tugged down her bonnet. "Where is this Thrushcross – Fitzwilliam!"
His head turned sharply. "What is it, Elizabeth?"
"It's the horse!"
Standing a few paces away was the same black stallion that had been the cause of their troubles. Darcy harrumphed. "That miserable creature. Well, I didn't consider him a loss, but we might as well take him back, now that we've found him."
The wind shrieked and the horse's eyes flew open, its ears upright.
"Don't tell me that he's about to run off again." Darcy steered Benedict round.
The shrieking intensified and Elizabeth realized that it wasn't the wind. It was the howl of human voices.
"The moors called to you, didn't they? You can't leave them any more than you can leave me!"
"I know what I'm doing, Heathcliff!"
Elizabeth's heart sank, and Darcy groaned. "Those two are still arguing?"
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. "I don't see them."
"You've betrayed yourself, Cathy, you cannot –"
The black horse bolted. With a low oath, Darcy kicked Benedict to a gallop. Elizabeth protested, "Leave it alone, Fitzwilliam, it's not worth it."
"Trust me, my dear, I know. However, if Miss Earnshaw was correct, that way leads to Thrushcross Grange."
As they raced forward, the voices grew louder. Look as she may, Elizabeth could see nothing.
The black horse galloped past ravines and jutting rocks. Elizabeth's breath slammed into her lungs as Benedict leaped past a crooked tree and dipped into a valley below the moor. Sure enough, she could see hints of roofs and she sank against Darcy's back, gladdened beyond words to see signs of human civilization.
Darcy pulled the reins and Benedict eased into a trot. A few steps ahead of them was a walled park. Above the elegantly sculpted hedges towered a grand house. To Elizabeth's relief, warm light emitted from inside, illuminating the myriad of flowerpots that each flanked a window. The house was not as large as Pemberley, but it was still an impressive sight.
No wonder Miss Earnshaw yearns to be its mistress one day.
Finally, Darcy drew Benedict to a halt. "Yes, this is Thrushcross Grange."
He dismounted. "I remember Miss Earnshaw telling me about its gardens." He held out his arms and Elizabeth fell into them. He gently lowered her to the ground and then patted Benedict's neck. "Good ride, sir." The horse snorted in reply.
Elizabeth heard a high-pitched whinnying and turned to see the black horse pawing the ground restlessly.
Darcy scowled. "Now what's he all worked up about?" He walked over to the horse. "Calm down, we're safe now."
He held out a hand to grasp the reins, but the horse darted away from him. It pranced about, its tail high and swishing.
Benedict started and Elizabeth grabbed the reins instantly to restrain him. "Don't fret, Benedict." She rubbed his muzzle. "Don't mind him." She prayed that Benedict would not panic. She had had enough outbursts today.
"Come now, what's wrong?" Darcy walked over to the black horse. "You wanted to leave the moor, now we're out of it. Now you want to go back?"
With a frantic whinny, the black horse swung around and burst into a run.
"Stop!" Darcy shouted.
But the horse was deaf to his cries. It hurtled off into the distance, its black coat melding easily with the night.
Darcy stared after it and then, with a whirl of impatience, stalked back to Elizabeth. "Forget it. If that foolish horse wants to starve in the wilderness, that's his choice." He eyed Benedict. "How is he?"
Elizabeth stroked Benedict's ears. "He was a little alarmed, but otherwise he's fine." Her fingers stilled as the shrieking entered her ears again. "Fitzwilliam...is that the wind?"
Darcy frowned and gazed out at the moor. "I'm not sure. I hear something."
His mouth tightened. "But whatever it is, I am heartily sick of it." He turned round and began walking towards the garden walls. "I have had quite enough excitement for tonight and I would dearly love some peace and quiet."
Elizabeth smiled. "As would I." She took one last look at the moor, at the moonlit fields and jutting rocks. The wind's howls quieted to a low keening. The crooked tree in the distance waved its distorted branches, as if inviting her to return.
Elizabeth's smile turned wry. This night had certainly been unusual and filled with thrills and danger. But if the moor thought that it could beckon her back, as it had Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw, it was wrong.
She turned and joined her husband.