The Journey (4 page)

“Miss Bennet, I know our circumstances appear formidable, but we can survive this.” He walked across the room and stood before me. “Do you think you can untie these knots?”

“Of course. I should have done so immediately.”

He turned his back, and I struggled with the rope tied in multiple knots around his wrists. When I could not loosen it, I reached for a hairpin. My bonnet had been lost long ago, and I became conscious that most of my curls streamed down my back, but I did find two or three pins still remaining and, with one, pried open the tight binding.

“Resourceful.” Mr. Darcy rubbed his wrists. “Now, we must make something of a plan.”

“A plan? What kind of plan? We can see there is but one way out of this room, and it is locked. We are at the mercy of desperate men, sir! There is nothing we can do.”

“We can stay alive, and that is of the utmost importance. The first thing we must do is consider how to represent ourselves as a married couple.”

“How . . . how do we accomplish that?”

“For one thing, we must address each other by our Christian names. Would not husband and wife speak thus?”

I barely nodded. I had been astounded at how imaginative he had been during the entire situation. I recalled how Mr. Darcy had teased Mr. Bingley at Netherfield concerning his air of humility, going so far as to call it deceitful. Yet now his careful attention to truth seemed to have vanished, for he had conjured up one tale after another at lightning speed and all in order to prevent harm to Mr. Bingley’s sisters and to me. I could not imagine portraying his wife and yet, within a heartbeat, he had declared me to be just that. Now he proposed that we enact those roles.

“And perhaps you should stand closer to me when the highwaymen are present, as though you wished to cling to me.”

“I am not the clinging type, Mr. Darcy, and I have observed few married people engage in such manner while in public.”

“Of course not in the society we are accustomed to, but these are extreme circumstances, and they call for unusual measures. Would not a frightened wife cling to her husband in the company of ruffians such as those in the other room?”

Again I nodded slightly, somewhat put off that he had placed himself in control of both of us and yet grateful for his earlier intervention. Still, I felt uncomfortable at the thought of his suggestion. I sank down heavily on one of the chairs and immediately regretted it, for a slight moan slipped out unbidden.

“Are you unwell?”

“No, no, it is nothing,” I felt my cheeks grow warm.

“What is it, Miss Ben — Elizabeth?”

“Truly, it is of no significance. I am not used to riding a horse for such a lengthy time.”

He smiled slightly and turned his head aside. I rolled my eyes, wondering how I had come to this point in my life where I must confess to the last man in all of England I wished to converse with that I had a bruised derriere! I decided to speak of another matter.

“Will the earl truly provide the ransom funds?”

“My uncle would not hesitate to secure my freedom with whatever monies are requested. The only problem may be whether he believes this gang actually has me in their possession.”

“Why should he doubt that?”

“It depends upon how the ransom is requested. If they demand it for the release of myself and my
wife,
he may suspect it is counterfeit.”

“Oh.” Dismay filled my heart.

“Do not be disheartened,” he said, pulling out the remaining chair and sitting across from me. “My signature on any written note may be enough to win my uncle’s approval, and surely the remainder of our party will soon be found, and they can testify to our situation.”

“If you had not named me as your wife, your chances would be much greater.”

“Perhaps, but you would have had no chance at all.”

The tone of his voice was oddly tender, and I turned aside, unwilling to meet his gaze. Could it be that this man, whom I had considered devoid of kindness or obligation toward Mr. Wickham, had another facet to his character?

He rose and once more crossed the room to the window. “From the position of the sun, it appears we have travelled east, although I cannot be certain, for with all those twists and turns in the woods it was impossible to ascertain our direction.”

“We did not travel towards London, then?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it; however, we may not be that far away. Hopefully, a rider can reach the earl’s estate in less than a day. We must insist that they contact him immediately.”

Just then, the door opened. Sneyd stood upon the threshold. “Darcy, you ain’t one what insists on nothin.’ We do the insistin’ here.”

Mr. Darcy whirled around and strode to my side.

“I see you got the ropes untied. No matter. It don’t mean you be goin’ anywheres.” He entered the room and stood before me. “You, Missus, are to come with me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Mr. Darcy demanded.

“Morgan wants her.”

“I insist on accompanying my wife!”

Sneyd pulled his gun from his waistband. “I told you a’fore. You ain’t the one what does the insistin.’ Now, get out of my way.”

“If you harm her — ”

Sneyd just snickered and pushed Mr. Darcy back with the tip of his pistol, seeming to take great pleasure in robbing him of any power whatsoever. Grabbing hold of my arm, he pushed me through the doorway, slammed the door, and turned the key in the lock.

His hold on my arm was rough and bruising as he propelled me down the hallway and into the main room of the cottage. There I saw one of the outlaws cleaning his pistol while Gert stirred a foul smelling mixture, cooking in a great black pot that hung in the fireplace.

Morgan sat at one end of the table. He raised his head when I appeared, raking his glittering blue eyes up and down the length of me. For the first time in my life, I felt undressed by a man’s stare, as though he could see right through my gown and undergarments.

He no longer wore a mask — none of the men did. I was shocked to see a long, jagged scar slashed across his cheek. I was also astonished at how handsome he was and how little the scar diminished his appearance. In another setting, another time, his fair looks would have attracted every woman in attendance. Dressed in black, however, a rough, blonde stubble covering his chin and the chilling expression about his eyes, I could deem him handsome but not in any manner attractive.

“
Mrs.
Darcy,” he said, motioning with his hand. “Do come and sit down.”

Sneyd prodded me slightly, and I took a few steps, pulled out the chair farthest from the leader of the highwaymen, and started to sit down.

“Not way down there,” Morgan commanded. “Come and place yourself beside me where I can behold your comely face.”

“I prefer to sit here.”

“And I prefer that you sit beside me!” He slammed his fist upon the table. “You’d do well to remember that
my
preferences are obeyed here.”

Sneyd pulled me from the chair and pushed me toward him, forcing me to sit at the table next to the man in black.

“Bring that slop you’re cooking, Gert — a plate for me and one for our guest.”

The woman shot Morgan a dark look, but she did as he ordered. She placed bowls before us containing a type of soup with a few chunks of unidentifiable meat swimming in greasy broth.

“Where’s the bread?” he demanded.

“Keep a civil tongue. I’m gettin’ it!” she spat at him.

Setting a board of bread before us, she sliced it while the other men filled their bowls from the pot over the fire. They all soon sat at the table and slurped the distasteful food into their mouths with disgusting noises. When I turned away from the bowl, Morgan stopped eating and leaned back in his chair.

“Not good enough for the likes of you, right, Missus?”

“I have little appetite.” I reached for the glass of water set before me.

“I don’t blame you. Gert’s not much of a cook.”

“Gert’s not much of anythin,’” Merle said, causing Sneyd to break out in raucous laughter.

“Shut your filthy gobs,” the woman said, raising an iron skillet she held in her hand.

“Whether you like the food or not,
Mrs.
Darcy,” Morgan said, “eat it. Since your husband says you’re the prize filly, I won’t have you wasting away before your uptown relations pay up.”

I reached for a slice of bread, and slowly tearing off small bites, I forced myself to eat, washing it down with a swallow of water. Suddenly I realized the depth of my thirst and drained the glass.

“Pour her some ale,” he directed the woman.

“I have had enough, but may I take it to Mr. Darcy?”

“
Mr.
Darcy? I thought the man be your husband.”

“He is, but I — I refer to him in that manner when . . . in company.”

“And what do you call him when you’re all alone?” Sneyd asked, inclining his dirty face near mine and laughing.

“Leave her alone,” Morgan commanded, slamming his fist on the table once more. I jumped at the noise and sat up straighter in the chair. “All of you, get out. You, too, Gert. Either outside or to bed. Merle, you relieve Rufus and take first watch tonight. Fetch him a plate, and tell him to sleep out back in the stable.”

“But Nate, I want some more of this soup,” Sneyd whined.

“I said, get out! Now!”

Each of them obeyed his command, and the room soon emptied. I sat alone with the man in black, trembling as gooseflesh crawled up my spine. What did he intend to do with me?

Rising, he strode to the fireplace, and while doing so, I took the opportunity to snatch another piece of bread, which I hid in my skirt for Mr. Darcy. It appeared the highwaymen had no intention of feeding him that night. I barely had time to fold a portion of my skirt over the crust before he whirled around and narrowed his crystal eyes at me.

“I want the truth,” he said, his voice menacing. “Are you that gent’s wife?”

I took a deep breath but did not turn or break his gaze. I looked him dead on and lied. “I am.”

He waited a few moments, his gaze boring through mine as though he would stare the truth out of me. “And just why would your husband’s people be more troubled about your well-being than they would for his?”

I bit my lip, took a bite of bread, and chewed slowly before answering, my mind frantic to concoct a reason. “Because . . . because I am with child.”

“With child?”

“Yes. I carry the heir to Pemberley, and the babe’s welfare is of utmost importance to my husband’s family.”

Dear God, what had I done now?
In less than a day, I had gone from an unmarried maiden to not only a wife but an expectant mother.

“Your figure’s not that of a woman with child.”

“It is very early.”

“And do you have other brats?”

I shook my head. “That is why this one is of such consequence. We . . . we have waited a long time.”

“You don’t bear the looks of a woman old enough to have waited long.”

“I — I have always possessed an unusually youthful complexion. And I . . . I married quite young.”

“Is that so? How young?”

“I was but sixteen.” I had not yet seen my twenty-first birthday, but I desperately hoped he would think me older.

The man continued to stare at me, striding around the room while doing so. I sensed that he was contemplating whether anything I had said was plausible, and I prayed that he would believe me. At length, he stopped and retrieved a wrinkled sheet of paper from his pocket. He fetched a quill and pot of ink from the mantel above the fireplace and placed them before me.

“Write what I say: To the Earl of Matlock — My husband and I are held by Nathanael Morgan, leader of the most notorious band of highwaymen in all England. He wants — no, he demands five thousand pounds in gold by — ”

I wrote nothing, and when he ceased pacing to look over my shoulder, a scowl furrowed his brow. “Why don’t you write?”

“It would be better for my husband to write to his uncle.”

“Why? Why should he write and not you? I thought you’re the favourite.”

“I am . . . but I am not in the habit of corresponding with the earl. In truth, I have never written to him before. He would not recognize my script, whereas he would be well acquainted with that of his nephew. If it came from me, he might consider the note false, written by any fortune hunter seeking extortion.”

Once again, he began pacing, rubbing his beard as he walked, and obviously thinking about what I had just proposed. Then, striding to the hallway, he hollered for Sneyd. “Go get the other one! Bring him in here.”

How could I alert Mr. Darcy to the new fabrications I had invented so that he would not appear surprised or make some slip when they were mentioned? My pulse raced as I worried. Surely, there must be some way I could signal him. Before I could think of a solution, however, Sneyd shoved him into the room.