Page 18 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Elizabeth
The rain fell in heavy sheets over London, cascading down the stone buildings and turning the streets into murky rivers. Elizabeth Bennet stood beneath a narrow shopfront awning; her small portmanteau clutched tightly to her side. From her vantage point, she saw the Gardiner’s house clearly but was too far away for anyone to have seen her.
She had changed from her wedding gown into a simple blue travelling gown, the mud-spattered hem evidence of her hasty retreat through the sodden streets.
Worry and anticipation flooded her. What if her family returned sooner than expected? Would they force her back to the church, back to St Martin’s in the Field, where Jonathan would force her to be his bride?
She could not help but glance nervously in that direction, half expecting to see her would-be husband striding towards her with that possessive gleam in his eye.
The rain had afforded her some protection, sending pedestrians scurrying for shelter and obscuring the view of anyone who might search for her. Still, Elizabeth’s nerves remained taut.
She remembered with panic that they had not agreed upon a time. And what if he didn’t come?
What if this Mr Darcy had realised after their parting that he was quite mad to propose such a thing? Yet, she had no other option. Her future now relied upon a man whom she had spoken to for not even half an hour. A man who could be not quite right. Or was it her who was not quite right?
A flash of movement caught her eye, and she pressed herself against the building’s façade. Several carriages had arrived and even from this distance, she recognised her father’s distinctive gait as he descended from one. She spotted her sister Jane exit then and the urge to speak to her overcame her. She had left a note for her family but her sister deserved more.
“You,” she called to a passing paper boy. “Do you see the people over yonder?” she pointed and the boy nodded.
“Go and tell the blonde-haired lady to come here. Do not say why and do not let anyone overhear you. Run into her and drop your papers so you have a chance to whisper to her,” she said, aware of how reckless this was.
“I cannae ruin my papers,” he said in a thick Scottish accent.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into her reticule and withdrew a few coins.
“Here, that should pay for the papers. Now please, go quickly. And remember, only the blonde woman in the blue gown.”
The boy nodded and Elizabeth watched as he rushed down the street and ran across, water splashing up around his ankles as he ran. Her parents, Jane, and the Gardiners hadstopped in front of the door, engaged in conversation while her younger sisters had gone inside.
The paperboy closed the distance between them and as she’d requested, bumped into Jane, and dropped some of his papers. Jane bent down at once to assist him and then, the boy rose and was gone.
Had he told her to meet her here? For a split second, she worried her sister might tell her parents but she simply stood there, hands clasped before her lap. Then, the party entered the house.
What if the boy had not done as she asked? What if he’d said nothing to Jane at all? Then she would need to leave without saying goodbye.
Her throat grew thick as if something were lodged there and Elizabeth drew back further into the shadows in case something had gone awry.
Her retreat proved unnecessary when a familiar figure hurried across the street towards her hiding place, heedless of the rain soaking her fine muslin gown. Jane.
“Lizzy!” Jane called in a hushed tone as she approached, her blue eyes widened with concern. She ducked beneath the awning, raindrops glistening in her hair.
“Jane,” she called and fell into her sister’s arms.
“Oh, Lizzy. I could hardly believe it when the paper boy told me to meet you here. Everyone is searching for you. The Blackfriars are in a state of considerable agitation.”
“I imagine they are,” Elizabeth murmured, a touch of defiance entering her tone. “You did not tell our parents where I am, did you?”
“No, but please you must come inside with me. They are fretting terribly.”
“I cannot,” she said pulling Jane further back. ‘Pray, what happened at the church? What did the Blackfriars say?”
“Jonathan Blackfriars has declared the entire Bennet family beneath notice,” Jane continued. “He claims you have humiliated him beyond reparation. Mother is quite distressed, she has taken to her salts three times already. Father is unusually quiet, and the Gardiners are most concerned for your wellbeing.”
Elizabeth’s resolve faltered temporarily at the mention of her aunt and uncle, who had always shown her such kindness. “And what of the rest? Kitty and Lydia? Mary?”
“Mary quotes scripture on filial duty, while Kitty and Lydia seem more interested in the spectacle than your welfare, I am afraid,” Jane admitted. “We plan to return to Longbourn at first light tomorrow. They believe you to be there.”
Jane captured Elizabeth’s hands in her own, her expression earnest. “Lizzy, please, come inside with me now. Make peace with the family. This… this flight cannot lead to any good end.”
