Chapter Four
Just before dawn, Elizabeth slid through the shadows to an open area within the woods just on the other side of Longbourn's southern border.
She had asked Hill, whose anger at her employer for breaking her beloved girl's heart had been obvious, to arrange a rendezvous between her and George.
Hill had obliged, made a noisy fuss over Elizabeth's paleness, and sent her to bed with strict instructions to the household that she was not to be disturbed.
She gave the girl a tonic to calm her nerves, and indeed, Elizabeth had slept for a short while before the old nurse had awakened her to send her on her way.
Elizabeth moved a branch away from her face and dipped low to avoid being hit as her fingers slid along the rough wood of the trees that lined the path.
The night was moonless, and Elizabeth toed her way up the track, finding that the tiny, flickering light from her lantern did not help at all.
Finally, she reached the field, having injured her big toe twice.
A soft glow throughout came from the many lamps that George had lit.
In the centre, a blanket was spread over the leaf-strewn ground.
George leaned against a tree, his tight face softening upon seeing her.
She almost dropped her lantern running towards him but somehow managed not to set the woods ablaze.
Moments later they were wrapped in each other's arms.
George covered Elizabeth's face with kisses, his lips warm and soft against her skin.
“I have missed ye fiercely, my love!” His fingers slipped through her loose curls to grasp the back of her head.
His hand slid down her neck, gently holding her while he pressed his forehead to hers.
Several quiet moments passed; Elizabeth savoured each one, wrapping time up a small box with a bright green bow. Bright green like George’s eyes.
“Not any more than I have missed ye.” She pressed her mouth to his once again, tears escaping down her cheeks.
Finally, they slipped downward to the blanket, their hands locked together as though they had been adhered with tree gum. George’s arm snaked around Elizabeth's shoulders and pulled her close. Sighing, she rested her cheek against his chest, happier than she had been in weeks.
“My dearest love,” said George as he brushed a kiss over her forehead, “I have a plan.”
She stared at him, unsure of what he might mean.
During their time apart, she had thought and thought on how she might avoid marriage to the dreaded High Lord Darcy, but she had not succeeded.
It seemed nothing short of death would allow her to escape.
Aside from that, she was not willing to let him win.
She would live long enough to make his life miserable and if that ended up being five years or five and twenty, then she would apply herself to the best of her ability.
“I managed to sell off some of my more valuable belongings. It is not a lot, but I have is enough to steal us away from here and go where nobody knows us. I am certain I can convince the rector to marry us in secret before we leave.”
She sat up, pulling out of his embrace. Her brow crinkled in confusion.
“Mr. Hambley would marry us without my father's approval? That does not seem very like him.”
“He vowed to me that he would do whatever it was that I required of him in my desperate time. Situations, my dear, do not get more desperate than they are currently. I would not dare ask ye to run with me if I could not offer ye marriage.”
“But what of my father’s contract with Lord Darcy?”
“What of it?” Irritation and ire laced George's voice. “What has thy father done but betray us and sell ye off?”
“George, he is still my papa and Longbourn, however unhappy at present, is still my home.”
“Thy home is with me, Liza! Ye were to be my wife, and we were to be happy! Those dreams have been shattered by the meddling of old men!”
“Papa loves me, George. And he loves ye. He did not want to hurt us.” The truth became clear to her even as she spoke it.
For the first time, her resentment melted away.
Papa was as pained as she was, perhaps more so since she had turned against him.
“He had to do what was best for Longbourn. People depend upon us for their bread and butter. Surely, ye must see that.”
“I do not see that! Why must I see that? I see a greedy old man who has auctioned his daughter's hand to the highest bidder. I see a devious man who has stolen another man's intended. I see a girl caught in an ill wind she did not wish to catch but must ride.”
Elizabeth stood and walked to a rock formation that looked a little like an open book.
When she and George were younger, they had come here with chalk and had written stories on the stone.
Rain would always wash them away, but they would return again and again, sometimes with a new story, sometimes with an old favourite.
They had always had this field, this rock, and each other.
He was right. She was riding an ill wind, but deep down, she rode it for a reason. Yes, she loved George, but she was born with responsibilities he did not understand. Longbourn would be hers someday, so she needed to do what must be done to protect it and the people who depended on it to survive.
“I cannot run with ye.” She surprised herself with how certain and final her words sounded.
“What?”
“I cannot run. It is clear that one of us must stop acting like a child and I offer my resignation. Duty is involved, my dear, bonny George, and, while I may not like it, I cannot ignore it. We were fortunate to have the time we had, but my path lies in the north.”
“Liza, ye cannot be serious.”
“But I am. If I do not marry Lord Darcy, my father loses Longbourn. He would become a tenant on his own land, my land. The people that depend upon us would be frozen out. I cannot in good faith let that happen. I cannot be responsible for the heartache of so many, not when it can be spared with the small cost of one broken heart.”
“And what of my heart?”
She smiled sadly. “It shall mend, and ye shall find a lovely girl to smile upon.”
“There will never be another. That is a lie ye shall whisper so ye may sleep more soundly.” The bitterness in his voice stung.
“Think not for one moment, George, that this is full of ease for me. Mock me not! I am dying! Ye! Ye can stay here, in our home, with our friends, but I! I am being sent beyond the border of our region! I shall have no friends, no loved ones, and yet ye mock. Inform me, bonny George, when did ye become so damn cruel?”
He caught her face in his hands and delivered a kiss to her stubborn mouth.
“A thousand apologies, beloved. I had been thinking of my own heart and forgot that thine is more precious.”
At that moment, Elizabeth found she had lost her patience for George’s poetic meanderings. “I must go. This was a mistake. Forgive me, my dearest George, for any past and future sins I make against ye. I love ye.”
She kissed him once more and ripped herself from him before he could utter another word.
Grabbing one of the bigger lanterns from the ground, Elizabeth's trek through the woods was a little bit easier this time.
The sun would be rising soon, so she made her way straight to the churchyard to pretend she had been visiting her mother's grave.
Up ahead on the left side of the old dirt cart path was a house.
Horses were tied to posts in front and a light or two glowed from behind the frosted glass on the first floor.
The house, affectionately known by the male residents of Meryton as Queen's Knees, was infamous.
The house offered gaming, spirits, and the most popular attraction, whores.
She had seen one of the ladies once when she was a child. The woman had had the brightest red hair she had ever seen. Her skin was pale like moonlight, and her cheeks had been streaked bright with rouge. Her gown was cut so low that Elizabeth had fancied she had seen more flesh than fabric.
Lost in her memories of the fallen woman, Elizabeth jumped at hearing her own name.
“I say, Miss Bennet, I did not expect to happen upon you quite so early today or late this evening. Whichever, I suppose, you prefer.”
Lord Darcy was just on the other side of the brothel gate, unhitching his massive grey horse. He had a grin on his face, and Elizabeth found her hand itching to smack it away.
“I can see thy commitment to me is certain in the presence of my Papa, but no more than that.” Her voice was as dry as tinder.
“Oh, I am committed to you, my lovely future bride. A man, though, has his needs, and we are not married yet.”
“I shiver with anticipation for the arrival of our wedding day when ye shall bed thy wife then take up with thy whores. I shall be so very honoured,” she muttered, sarcasm lacing her every word.
“Pray, what has you out wandering so late? You are not coming from the direction of your house.”
She bit her lip. Should she say she was on her way to the cemetery? She would surely be discovered. Saying she was out for a walk would be a lie. Elizabeth drew a deep breath, offered him her best bright smile and said, “I was returning from a visit to see George.”
Despite the darkness, the rage in Lord Darcy's eyes was plain, and the speed with which he was over the fence was truly frightening. Instantly pain shot through her arms as his fingers dug into the muscles. She shouted out but he did not seem to notice.
“You were with him? Alone? I should take a switch to your hide myself!”
“If only ye had the right to do so, sir. I am not yet thy wife.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “If it is proven you have been spoiled then you shall not be my wife at all, and your bride-price will be forfeited. I shall own your father.”
“Ye would not dare.”
“You know nothing half so well as my will, Elizabeth. Have you not yet learned that I am capable of anything? If I doubt your purity, I am well within my rights to have you inspected.”