The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth

“You have nothing to apologize for, sir,” Elizabeth said faintly, but he could see a small crease of worry forming between her eyebrows.

“Please remain here and I will find substitute conveyance.” He attempted to appear calm and reassuring.

So Elizabeth and Celeste waited in the inn’s common room while Darcy and one of the footmen from the inn scoured the streets of Paris for a carriage for hire. As they were disappointed time and again, Darcy’s anxiety increased – every minute of delay would make it more difficult to escape the city. The sun had risen in the sky and it was turning into a steamy July day. Covered in the dust of the street, Darcy was tired and hot.

In their wanderings, they had canvassed a goodly part of the city and he had noticed many groups of disgruntled Frenchmen angrily exclaiming about “Les Anglais!” The situation was ripe for mob violence. We must depart as quickly as possible! As he watched the footman exit yet another stable with a grim expression on his face, Darcy sighed and cast about the street for another establishment where they could make inquiries. His eyes alighted on something and an idea began to form…..

Elizabeth had a pleasant conversation with Celeste over some tea at the worn table in the inn’s common room. In her passable French, she asked the girl questions about her family and employment with Mrs. Radnor. Celeste’s English was only a little better than Elizabeth’s French, so the conversation proceeded slowly. Elizabeth found her to be an interesting companion, but as the morning progressed she became worried that Celeste was unwell. Although the maid denied it, she seemed feverish, shivering in the warm room and rubbing her head as if it ached.

The longer they waited with no word from Darcy, the more Elizabeth’s anxiety built. Obviously he was finding it difficult to locate some means of escaping the city. What will we do if no carriage can be found? It would be very dangerous to linger even one more day.

Finally she saw Darcy’s tall figure in the inn’s doorway, silhouetted by the bright noontime light. Despite her anxiety about their plight, she had to admire what a fine figure he cut. He sank wearily into a hard wooden chair adjacent to the table. “I apologize for my lengthy absence! I hope the innkeeper has been taking good care of you.” Elizabeth nodded absently. “There are no real carriages to be had in this city. I believe we have searched everywhere. However, I have found something which will suffice to get us out of Paris at least.”

He rose and she followed him out the inn’s door into the courtyard where she saw a curricle drawn by two horses. It was a small carriage, meant for pleasure jaunts around the city, that could hold no more than two people on a small bench; it did not even boast a roof to shield the passengers from rain. “I bought the curricle and horses from their owner, so he does not expect their return. My thought was that the curricle would get us out of Paris at least. Once in the countryside, we may be able to exchange it for more suitable conveyance.” Darcy was watching her anxiously, as if fearing she would chastise him for not providing the carriage he had promised.

“This will do quite well,” she assured him and he seemed to relax slightly. Does my approval mean so much to him?

Then Darcy raised another objection. “My concern is that there is space for only two people. We must send Celeste back to her employer.”

“I u

nderstand,” Elizabeth said. “But you are a gentleman. I know I will be safe in your hands.” He blinked rapidly, seemingly surprised and touched by her confidence in him. “And we can hardly be expected to adhere to rules of strict propriety during a time of war. Please, sir, do not make yourself uneasy on my account.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” he murmured.

The next few minutes were occupied with supervising the tying of their trunks to the back of a vehicle not meant to hold luggage. Darcy gave Celeste a little money and sent her with his thanks back to her mistress. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that the maid would be able to rest at home rather than sicken herself by traversing the countryside with them. Within minutes Elizabeth and Darcy were perched next to each other on the curricle’s high seat and moving slowly out of the inn’s courtyard.

The streets of Paris were thronged with the normal noontime traffic as well as hundreds of English travelers seeking to escape the city. They made very slow progress, causing Mr. Darcy some anxiety as he constantly scanned their surroundings and slapped the reins to urge the horses to further speed. They often passed wandering knots of angry, shouting men who made Elizabeth feel very exposed in the small carriage’s high seat.

After passing a particularly dangerous-looking mob, Darcy took both the reins in one hand and pulled something out of the pocket of his great coat: a small pistol. Elizabeth regarded it with surprise. “A precaution only,” he insisted as he laid it across his lap. “I purchased it from the innkeeper. I have seen anti-English mobs all over Paris. A small incident could set off a violent reaction.”

To ward off her sense of vulnerability, Elizabeth pulled her shawl more tightly around her and tilted her head so her bonnet hid more of her face. She had to fight a sudden impulse to huddle closer to Mr. Darcy.

The helpful innkeeper had recommended a route out of the city that was less traveled. As they made their slow way to the outskirts of the city, the people and carriages were sparser. Darcy had just gotten the horse up to a trot when he turned the carriage onto a new street and immediately spied some debris blocking the road ahead. Although no inhabitants seemed to be about, houses crowded the street on both sides. When they arrived at the blockage – broken furniture combined with tree branches in a haphazard heap – he pulled up the horses and alighted from the carriage. Frustrated at any delay, Darcy hastily began to clear a path wide enough for the curricle to pass through. Elizabeth also started to climb down from the carriage. “I can help.”

He shook his head. “Please stay there. I may need you at the reins if I have to guide the horses.” Moving one last branch, he surveyed his progress, hoping there was enough room for the carriage to pass. Suddenly rough hands grabbed him from behind and spun him around. He received a blow to the stomach before he knew what was happening and went sprawling in the dirt of the road. “Les Anglais!” A voice spat out.

Chapter 5

The voice of his attacker continued with a flood of French which Darcy’s brain automatically translated even as he realized that several voices were shouting. “Don’t let the English filth escape! Make them pay!” Still on the ground, he glared up into the faces of his attackers, a group of five rough-looking men, glaring at him with anger and hatred. Darcy pushed himself to his feet, but two men immediately came forward and grabbed his arms. In French he attempted to reason with them: “We are only trying to leave the city. We have no quarrel with you. Please, I have a frightened young lady with me.” Several of the men leered at Elizabeth and he instantly wished he had not drawn their attention to her.

While he spoke, he felt in the pocket of his great coat. With a sense of despair, he realized he had left the pistol on the seat of the carriage. He had to protect Elizabeth! But, now he realized that in attempting to save her, he had led her into greater danger!

Attempting to formulate a plan, he thrust his hands further into his pockets, finding a few francs which he proffered in one hand. The sight of the coins distracted some of the men, as he intended. He dropped the franc coins on the ground and a two of the men raced to retrieve them; however, the other men’s arms holding him held firm. Not distracted enough, he thought ruefully. He had additional money in his trunk and thought about bribing their way free, but the men had no reason to treat them well once they had the money; Darcy was in no position to bargain.

The biggest man, apparently the mob’s unofficial leader, picked up a board with several nails still sticking out of it. Menace radiated from every inch of his body, he raised it over his head, preparing to strike Darcy, who struggled – to no avail – to escape his captors’ grip. Staring at the jagged nails, Darcy braced himself for the blow.

Now Then he heard a woman’s voice: “Arretez!” Elizabeth was standing in the curricle, the pistol pointing directly at his attackers. “Let him go!” The men stared at her in astonishment. “Maintenant!” As she made an angry gesture, her face was fierce and her manner was very commanding. The hands holding Darcy loosened their grip and he quickly shrugged them off. He launched himself toward the curricle, knowing that now was the time to make good their escape before the thugs realized how they could use their superior numbers to overcome one woman with a pistol.

Elizabeth sank down to the seat as he climbed up into it. “Keep the pistol trained on them!” He hissed to her as he took up the reins and she immediately made a threatening gesture with the gun at the men who stood in the road. “Deplacez! Now! Maintenant! ” The men stared at the gun, but then slowly shifted out of the way. Their leader looked down and spat in the dirt, muttering to himself, clearly deciding it would not be worth the trouble to attack the English couple. Darcy slapped the reins and maneuvered the horse through the breach he had created in the barrier; for the first time he was grateful that their conveyance was small and narrow. After they passed though the barrier, Elizabeth turned on the seat so she could point the pistol on any ruffians who might follow them. Darcy slapped the reins again, urging the horses into a run and they had soon left the thugs far behind.

Fortunately, the curricle quickly reached the countryside. There were few other carriages on the road; the only people they saw were working in the fields far from the road. Darcy slowed the horses to a trot, not wanting to exhaust the creatures as Elizabeth relaxed her death grip on the pistol and it fell into her lap. It was only then that Darcy realized her hands were trembling violently. “I do not believe I have ever been so frightened in my entire life. Not even when Charlotte Lucas’s brother tricked me into running through the bull pasture and it chased me!” She laughed a little shakily.

What a woman! He thought. Capable of making a jest even in these straitened circumstances. Most women of his acquaintance would be having hysterics. No wonder I fell in love with her! “Thank you for your quick thinking. You saved my life.” He noticed that his voice was low and husky with emotion.

“My thinking was not at all quick. It took me forever to recall the pistol lying beside me.” She shook her head self-deprecatingly, rubbing the palms of her hands against her skirt in an attempt to dry them. Gingerly, she handed the pistol back to him and he stowed it in his coat.

Darcy chuckled. “It was very timely as far as I am concerned.”