The Journey (11 page)

“Jonah’s Village lie twelve mile east of here.”

“Is that the only one?”

“You asked what’s the closest. Hazleden’s nigh on to eighteen mile southeast, but you have to follow the creek and wind ’round through the wood a’fore you find the road. The clear path leads to Jonah.”

“Come on,” Mr. Darcy motioned toward the door with his head, “and button your coat. It has rained earlier, and ’twill be bitter weather until the sun rises.”

After handing him his greatcoat, I turned to Gert, hesitating for a moment. “Thank you.”

Spitting a stream of tobacco into the fire, she picked up a small sack and handed it to me. “Some bread and taties.”

I took the bag gratefully and ran out the door behind Mr. Darcy. It was quite dark, the new moon reflecting barely a sliver of light before it ducked behind the clouds. He reached for my hand, and I had not the slightest hesitation in allowing him to hold it.

“Which way shall we go?” I whispered.

“To Hazleden.”

“Why not take the path to Jonah’s Village? It is closer.”

“Too easy to find us that way. Come along and walk softly. I do not trust that woman. We may be headed straight into a snare.”

“I trust her,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“A feeling.”

“Then let us hope your perception is correct, Miss Bennet.”

We ran across the open space between the cabin and the river and soon disappeared into the tall brush lining the bank. The noise of water rushing over the dam ahead grew louder as we neared it. Earlier, I had told Mr. Darcy about hearing a waterfall, and now it appeared to be even closer than I thought.

The reeds and grasses thickened the farther we walked, and I wondered how he could see ahead. In less than a half-hour, we reached the dam.

“Stay,” he whispered. “I shall return.”

A sense of panic swept over me when he released my hand, and I peered after him, desperate to keep him within sight as he vanished into the darkness. Rustling in the trees caused me to turn quickly, but nothing appeared. Surely, there must be wild animals in these woods — or wild men.

My teeth began to chatter, and I clasped hold of my arms, willing myself to remain still. Yet, the combined noise of my teeth and rapid heartbeat seemed monstrously loud to my ear, surely alerting anyone within miles that I was there alone. I turned round again and again, thinking I heard something or someone.

And then I truly did hear a crackling step and another. I placed my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, when a figure suddenly appeared before me!

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, and I almost bit my lip in two before I recognized that Mr. Darcy had returned. With a great sigh of relief, I let out the breath I had been holding.

“I climbed down to the dam, hoping there was a bridge built across it. It is a makeshift structure at best, now covered not only with running water, but broken down in the middle, impossible to cross. We shall be forced to keep to this side of the river.”

“How can we continue without light? We could fall in the water.”

“True, but we must chance it. We are not yet removed far enough from the cabin to bide our time. We must advance. Follow closely, and do not let go of my hand.”

He need not worry. I had no intention of letting him out of my sight again.

We travelled on through the night, how far I had not the slightest idea. More than once, we slipped into a bog of mud, and Mr. Darcy even stepped off the bank momentarily. Fortunately, the water was shallow at that point, and he quickly pushed me away and managed to free himself before we both fell in. My feet were growing heavier with each step, my shoes thoroughly clogged with thick layers of mud.

At last, Mr. Darcy halted and turned to look over his shoulder. My spirits rose when I saw the faint beginnings of morning light in the east.

He turned back to face me. “Can you go any farther?”

I nodded.

“Come on, then. The concealment provided by darkness will soon be lifted.”

We ploughed on through the reeds. The sharp stalks scraped my hands and cheeks. Oh, how I wished for the protection of a bonnet!

And I was so thirsty, my throat hurt. All that water lay just a few feet away, and yet we could not refresh ourselves, for it remained far too dark to draw any closer. But soon — soon, I knew we could drink our fill. That thought made my feet move, that and Mr. Darcy’s warm hand covering mine.

Eventually, a greater light appeared through the trees, illuminating the full expanse of the river. It was much wider than the creek by the cabin, perhaps at least three times its size in width, and I wondered at its depth.

Mr. Darcy kept an ever more constant eye on our surroundings. He turned his head from side to side and often looked over his shoulder. At last, he stopped abruptly, so much so that I walked straight into him.

“Forgive me.”

I attempted to step back, and in so doing, lost my footing. He immediately reached out and caught me, saving me from falling into the mud. I was grateful, for the hem of my petticoat was covered in muck. I hoped to prevent my dress from a similar fate.

“No,” he said, frowning, “it is I who should be forgiven. I have pushed you too far. I can see that you are spent.”

He could not have spoken truer words, and I felt certain that my appearance portrayed it. I did not even wish to think how bedraggled I must look, my hair streaming down my back, my gown three inches thick in dirt. But what did it matter? We were free from our captors and out in God’s good earth.

“I am well, sir. All I desire is water to drink.”

“Of course. I shall help you down the bank, but take care, for it is slippery.”

Cautiously, we climbed down to the water’s edge. Both of us fell to our knees, cupped the water into our hands, and lapped it up like dogs. I had never tasted wine more refreshing than that cold, clear river water.

When my thirst was slaked at last, I washed my face, wincing as the water stung the cuts in my cheeks and forehead. My expression of pain did not go unnoticed, for the next thing I knew, Mr. Darcy turned my face to meet his. Gently, he ran his thumb across the scratches.

“Those blasted reeds! I never should have pulled you through them.”

“No,” I said softly, taking his hand in mine. “You did what you had to do. Do not fear. I heal quickly.”

I heard his quick intake of breath — or was it mine — as I saw the tenderness in his eyes. He wore the same expression that had graced his face earlier in the night when he had held me within his arms. Slowly, we both stood up, and this time he was the one to break our gaze, turning his face away.

“We can no longer travel in the open. We must make our way into the woods.” He led me back up the embankment.

An hour later, it was full daylight, and we were enmeshed within the deep wood. I hoped that Mr. Darcy had some idea of our whereabouts, for I was hopelessly lost. I could no longer hear even faint sounds of the river, and I worried that we had wandered far too great a distance from its boundary. The soles of my feet burned, and I suspected that blisters had formed beneath the first and second toes of my left foot.

“Mr. Darcy, I can go no farther.” I reached out to brace myself against the trunk of a beech tree.

He turned and frowned. “Of course. Over here is a clear spot. Come and seat yourself against this sturdy oak.”

He took my hand and led me a few feet more, where I scraped my shoes against the tree’s bark, shedding most of the mud before I gladly sank to the ground. Covered in fallen leaves and bits of dried grasses, the hard ground felt as comforting to me as a corn-husked mattress.

“Shall you eat a bite of something?” he asked, kneeling beside me and taking Gert’s small bag from my hand.

He broke off part of the bread, and I took it from him, but I refused the cold potatoes. While we ate, we discussed the possibilities of what might have transpired at the cabin. Mr. Darcy suggested that the highwaymen could have fought off another band of ruffians who had descended upon them, or in an even more likely scene, they may have turned on each other.

I recalled that this very morning was the deadline Morgan had dictated in the ransom note. Could they have gone to meet the Earl of Matlock and retrieve the gold? If so, why would he not have left someone to guard us? Why would Gert have released us?

“Many questions,” Mr. Darcy said, “and few answers. What I should most like to know is who fired the weapons and the present whereabouts of those criminals?”

“I do wish you could have alerted your uncle to our location, but of course you could not with Morgan reading your message.”

“Whether he read it or not, that information would have been impossible to relate, because I simply do not know where we are.”

I sighed in agreement, and after a bit, I methodically began to massage the sides of my sore feet through my shoes.

“Why not remove them for a brief time?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I fear my feet are far too swollen. I might never be able to pull the shoes on again. I must persevere. I know it is imperative that we push on with great haste.”

“Yes, haste is important, but in doing so, you must not be harmed. Your face and hands are scratched, and now your feet are injured. Of what could I have been thinking?”

I was surprised to hear his expression of remorse. “Do not distress yourself, sir. Our escape has been uppermost in your mind throughout this ordeal, and I am grateful.”

My voice had unexpectedly softened with that last statement, and I felt a slight catch in my throat. His eyes met mine, diffused with that familiar tender light once again.

I forced myself to look away and break the spell.

We were now delivered from our imprisonment, and God willing, we would safely rejoin civilized society in the near future, a society that would prohibit any furtherance of the feelings recently awakened in my heart. Once we returned, all this would be as nothing more than a dream. He would once again be proud, wealthy Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and I would be Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of a country gentleman, far below the echelon of society in which Mr. Darcy dwelt.

It was past time to put an end to this attraction taking root within my heart and which I dared suspect he might possibly return in kind. It was time to place some distance between us, to return to my saucy speech and manner. It had served me well in the past and would again, I felt certain.

And so, with a gleam in my eye, I spoke. “After all, I know what a tiresome creature I can be, and that I have tried your patience more than once. I did think I was up to this trek, though, since I bear the noted reputation of being an excellent walker.”

I lifted my chin, giving him a somewhat cheeky smile. He coloured immediately, and I knew that he remembered hearing me so described by Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in the dining hall at Netherfield. Until then, however, he did not know that, having stood without in the hallway, I had chanced to overhear the remark.

“Miss Bennet, I . . .” he faltered, casting his eyes about the glen as though searching for an appropriate response.

I could not refrain from sympathizing somewhat with his predicament.

“It is of little consequence, sir. I have long been acquainted with Miss Bingley’s disapprobation of me. I fear that I measure up neither to her standards of an accomplished woman nor those of her sister. In truth, I would guess that I have fretted away at least three-quarters of a moment because of the distinct certainty that I never shall.”

He smiled slightly, relief evident in his eyes that I found the remembrance somewhat humorous.

“I hope that you do not count me a conspirator in their accounts. Although their brother and I are good friends, I do not share a similarity of opinions with Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst.”

“Is that so? I must have been mistaken in my first impressions then, for you appeared nigh to identical in manners at the Meryton assembly, again at the party at Lucas Lodge, and at the Netherfield ball. In your censure of Hertfordshire society, I would have judged you and Mr. Bingley’s sisters in perfect agreement. Have no fear, however, that I hold you responsible for their remarks. No, no, I should never accuse you of that — for you bear the onerous task of answering for your own.”

“Oh?” He settled himself against the nearby beech, leaning back against its trunk. “Any in particular?”

I pursed my lips as though combing my memory, searching for the exact statement with which I might confront him. “As I recall, there exists an ample reckoning upon which I might rely.”

“Such as?”

“Well, let me think on the matter.” I pretended to continue my search, tapping my fingers against my chin. “Hmm, this will do, as I consider it a fundamental example.”

I lowered my voice and put on my best rendition of his haughty tone. “Mr. Bingley, I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. That particular declaration certainly signifies.

“And then, of course, I often amuse myself with the recollection of your companion statement — she is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy, you need not rely on either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst for assistance in notable opinions or conversation. You are quite the master of your own.”