Chapter Five #4
"What did you say?"
"I said no. Anne does not require me to rescue her from an evening she is plainly enjoying." He turned and strode towards the doors.
"Darcy! Come back here at once."
Several guests looked towards them. He ignored their curious stares and passed into the corridor, searching for any sign of Elizabeth.
The passage was quieter than the ballroom, though the music still followed him through the open doors.
Alcoves lined one wall, each containing a marble bust or small upholstered seat, but he could see no movement within them.
Behind him came the sharp tap of Lady Catherine’s cane. "Darcy, this behaviour is intolerable. I insist that you return and partner Anne immediately."
He quickened his pace. He had no clear idea what he would say if he found Elizabeth.
He knew that he must express himself less awkwardly.
He would apologise for speaking so carelessly of Jane’s attachment and promise to take whatever action he could to make things right.
Whether Elizabeth accepted the apology was beyond his control, but she would hear it.
At the end of the corridor, he glanced back and saw his aunt bearing down upon him with surprising speed, the plumes in her headdress trembling with every step.
There were two doors ahead. One opened into the main corridor, while the other was narrower and set back within the panelling, easy to overlook unless one knew it was there. Darcy chose the less obvious door.
It led into a servants’ passage which he remembered connected with the back stairs and the lower rooms of the house.
He had used it once before, many years ago, when he and Fitzwilliam had stolen a plate of biscuits intended for tea with some illustrious visitor.
Lady Catherine had pursued them through the house with one slipper in her hand, brandishing it like a club while Fitzwilliam scattered crumbs in their wake.
Darcy almost laughed as he hurried along the narrow passage. Nearly twenty years had passed, and once again he was fleeing his aunt through the servants’ quarters after behaving in a manner she considered entirely unacceptable.
At the far end, a steep flight of stone steps descended towards the kitchens, storerooms and cellars below.
He heard his aunt's voice, "Fitzwilliam Darcy! Stop this nonsense!"
He moved farther down the steps, though the absurdity of hiding from his aunt in her own house was not lost upon him.
"I saw you come this way. Do not imagine that creeping through the servants’ passages will release you from your obligations."
Darcy reached the lower landing and paused.
To his left, the corridor opened towards the kitchens, where servants moved briskly between steaming dishes and trays of wine.
Straight ahead, another narrow staircase climbed towards the rear of the house and the guest chambers above.
Lady Catherine would most likely assume he had taken that route in search of his room.
A heavy door stood slightly ajar beside him.
Without stopping to examine where it led, Darcy slipped through and pulled it firmly closed behind him.
The latch fell into place with a metallic click and somewhere in the gloom someone drew in a startled breath.
Darcy wheeled around. The room was cool and almost dark, though a narrow window near the ceiling allowed in enough moonlight to reveal stone walls, wooden racks and the gleam of glass bottles.
More alarming than any of these was the woman standing several feet away, the amber silk of her gown catching the pale light.
"Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth stared at him, her expression fierce even in the dim light. She gave him a stern look and held a finger to her lips.
For several seconds, neither moved. Outside, Lady Catherine’s cane struck the floor above them, followed by her voice demanding that Darcy cease behaving like a sulky child. The clack of her cane and sound of her threats and protestations continued past the door until they faded away altogether.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Two things, Mr Darcy. You will address me correctly. That would be as Miss Bennet, or Miss Elizabeth, either is suitable in Jane’s absence. Secondly, what on God's green earth are you doing?"
He scuffed at the dust on the cellar floor with the toe of his boot. "My aunt was being difficult," he said, knowing even as the words left him that they were insufficient. "Miss Bennet," he added belatedly.
Elizabeth drew herself up. "Well, as diverting as this has been, I believe I shall return to Charlotte." She crossed to the door and turned the handle, only to find that it would not move. Her brows drew together. She tried again with greater force, but the heavy door remained firmly shut.
Behind her, Darcy said, "That cannot be."
Elizabeth looked back at him. "Has the great Mr Darcy of Pemberley acquired the ability to command locked doors to open? I pray you would demonstrate it quickly, so that I may find Charlotte and leave Rosings with all possible haste."
He came towards her and reached for the handle. "Allow me."
He thought he saw her roll her eyes once more, but she said nothing and stepped aside.
Darcy pulled hard enough to make the latch rattle in its setting, but the door refused to open. He tried again with greater force, bracing one foot against the stone floor, before abandoning the handle and striking the heavy wood with the flat of his hand.
"Hallo?" he called. "Is anyone there?"
He waited, but no answering footsteps came.
Beyond the thick door, Rosings was alive with music, conversation and the movement of servants hurrying between the kitchens and ballroom.
Even if someone passed through the corridor outside, Darcy doubted they would hear him above the noise and through the solid oak.
He struck the door again, harder this time. "Hallo!"
Still nothing. "It seems the lock caught when I closed the door," he said at last.
Elizabeth folded her arms and looked at him with grim satisfaction. "So, in your determination to escape your aunt, you have managed to imprison us both in her wine cellar. I suppose I ought to be impressed. Your disastrous decisions are becoming increasingly inventive."