Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
LOCKED IN
The assemblies in Meryton were held in the large rooms which comprised the whole of the uppermost floor of the Merry Fox.
They were modern rooms, well-ventilated and bright with one feature Elizabeth particularly admired: columns.
Columns that made for excellent hiding spots when her mother was being especially mortifying.
As she was now.
Mrs Bennet held court among the matrons who had once been her friends, crowing loudly about Jane’s triumph in having secured two dances with the bachelor lately arrived in town, Mr Bingley.
He does seem to like her, Elizabeth thought, glancing over to where Jane and Mr Bingley were speaking together in close conference, only partly concealed by their own column.
But Mama ought not to boast, not in the past and certainly not now.
She looked uneasily towards the place where Mr Bingley’s two sisters stood, looking at Jane and their brother with undisguised disapproval.
Miss Bingley leant towards her sister, whispering something with a disgusted curl of her lip and a small gesture of her fan towards Mrs Bennet.
Her sister, Mrs Hurst, shot a glance towards the matrons, her mouth pressed into a tight frown that was followed by a roll of her eyes.
Elizabeth thought she might intervene, as she often did in similar situations. Keeping to the outer edges of the room, she moved quietly towards her mother only to freeze in place when she heard her begin to decry her own marital prospects.
“It is a comfort to have at least one daughter who understands what is expected of her,” Mrs Bennet said, her words slightly slurred as she leant too close to Mrs Goulding on her left.
“If she had only accepted Mr Collins, we would all still be at Longbourn! Instead we find ourselves six ladies in a tiny hovel in the City!”
The little group of ladies went silent, and they all seemed to be looking somewhere else, their uneasiness obvious.
Elizabeth closed her eyes against the swell of humiliation within her.
On her mother’s right side sat Lady Lucas, mother of the former Miss Charlotte Lucas who had accepted Elizabeth’s cousin Mr Collins, and who now held Mrs Bennet’s former place as mistress of Longbourn.
Yes, Elizabeth’s own stubborn pride had been her friend’s gain. Yes, her refusal of her cousin had cost them all their home. And yes, her mother would likely never forgive her for it. She knew not if she could ever forgive herself for it.
The moment might have passed, but just when it seemed it might, Mrs Philips chimed in, “It would have been a comfort to you to see Lizzy settled, I am sure. I do not know who will ever be good enough for her!”
With that, she could endure no more. Hastily, she retraced her steps, moving away from her mother and the other matrons and going towards the servants’ passageway.
It was narrow and dark and led to a room that might be made into an extra guest chamber, should the need arise.
Alas, a mile off the London Road, the need rarely arose.
The owners of the Merry Fox counted themselves fortunate when even half of their chambers were occupied.
It was a vast relief to see the heavy wooden door and step inside. It was even more a relief to close the door firmly behind her, the music and noise of the assembly abruptly muted.
Relief was short-lived, alas, for as she turned the key in the lock and removed it, she dropped it.
Bending to retrieve it, she inadvertently kicked it and sent it sliding beneath the heavy door with a speed and precision she never could have managed if she tried it.
Poking her fingers beneath the door to retrieve it did nothing and might have even pushed it farther away from her.
She sat back and sighed. What now? Jane will surely come to find me and see the key in the hall, she decided. No need to panic.
Rising, she took a step back, shocked when she collided with a large and warm object. She exclaimed, rather inelegantly, “Oh!”
She spun round, taking in a tall, well-dressed stranger who had a lamp in one hand and looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Even more surprising was the fierce scowl on his face.
“You did not engage the lock, did you?” He spoke sharply.
She smiled apologetically. “I am afraid I did.”
Evidently he did not believe her, for he leant over her, reaching around to grasp the knob with his other hand, and attempted to open it. When it refused to give way, he took a large step back and muttered something, though Elizabeth could not discern what it was.
“I…I beg your pardon, sir.”
“It is a double-acting tumbler lock,” he announced, gesturing angrily towards it.
Surprised into momentary silence, she finally asked, “Meaning…?”
“Meaning without the key, we are locked in.”
“Yes, it seems we are.”
He regarded her without bothering to hide his suspicion. “Did you know I would be in here?” he accused. “Alone? Did you see me leave the assembly?”
“What? No, of course not. I do not even know who you are,” Elizabeth replied incredulously. “What do you think I might want to do—get you alone in here and damage your reputation?”
“You would not be the first to seek to entrap a man, forcing him to save your reputation through marriage.”
“Do believe me when I say I have every wish to maintain my reputation in a manner that will not require marriage to a stranger,” she retorted.
“A lady wishing to maintain her reputation does not often hie off to secluded rooms and lock herself in with no thought to who might be in there with her.”
Hateful man. “I wished,” she said, enunciating very clearly, “to be alone. In fact, I still wish, most ardently, to be alone, as I presume you did as well. Perhaps if we just stop talking, we can each pretend we are alone.”
The man did not answer, turning his back to her, and walking farther into the room.
His footsteps sounded angry, though, for the life of her, she could not imagine why.
Clearly he had hit upon the same notion she had—an escape into solitude.
That they had escaped to the same room was nothing more than the perverseness of mischance.
That she had locked them in was nothing more than bad luck on her part.
She turned, placing her hand upon the doorknob and testing it to see if it was definitely locked, which it was.
Perhaps there is an extra key in here somewhere.
She thought about asking for the lamp, still clenched angrily in her companion’s fist, but decided against it.
The dim moonlight coming through the window would have to do.
The room was comfortable but sparsely furnished, so the possible hiding spots were few. Plain sight was the only place for it to be, but it was shadowy and dim, so Elizabeth began roaming the room, running her hand over the furnishings and beneath the small tables just in case.
After a few minutes of such activity, she heard him say, “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a key.” She did not bother to look his way, and he said nothing more.
“You dropped the key.”
“An extra key,” she said, not bothering to hide her impatience with him.
As she moved about the room, her foot, clad only in her light dancing slipper, hit against an unknown assailant in the shadows, and she cried out.
She sank into the sofa nearby with a little groan, and lowered her hand to rub her foot.
She wondered if it was dark enough for her to remove her shoe to better examine her toes.
“Are you injured?” He made it sound as if it were some shade in her character if she were.
“More surprised than hurt,” she replied. “I jammed my toe against what I suppose is a wooden footstool. I did not see it in the dark.”
There was a short pause until he said, in more kindly accents, “That can be uncommonly painful.”
“I have suffered more than my fair share of broken toes. It makes the subsequent trauma that much more agonising. But—” She gave a dismissive little laugh. “—I daresay I shall live.”
“And alas the injury was quite in vain, it seems?”
“Unfortunately it was,” she agreed. “No key to be found.”
He walked slowly towards the door, rapping against it with his knuckles and giving the knob another rattle. “I wonder if there is any way to break it open?”
“It seems very solid. I think we must hope for a maid or someone to come to our rescue. Anyone passing by will see the key on the floor and realise the room was inadvertently locked.”
“With good fortune, it will be sooner than later.”
“One dares hope,” Elizabeth replied. In truth, she had little hope of that happening.
Her search for the key had left dust on her fingers, and the room had a smell that suggested it needed an airing.
She was familiar enough with the inn to know just where the room was in relation to the rest of the building—tucked snugly down a hall.
The likelihood of anyone coming by seemed slim.
The man turned away from the door to look at her. “Being that it seems we shall be stuck here together for a time, perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves? I am—”
“No!” Elizabeth nearly shrieked the syllable. “Pray do not!”
He paused a moment, and in the dim light of the lamp, Elizabeth saw the astonishment on his countenance. “I beg your pardon?”
“I do not wish to know your name,” she replied.
There was a brief silence and then he said, “Why not?”
“You can hardly maintain that I tried to trap you into matrimony if I do not even know your name, can you? We may both be protected by anonymity.”
He frowned and looked down at the lamp he held, then walked the few paces to where she sat.
“May I?” He gestured to the sofa, and she nodded.
He took a seat beside her and carefully sat his lamp on the offending footstool.
“It will be difficult to have any conversation if we cannot call each other anything.”