Page 19 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Elizabeth extricated her hands gently from her sister’s grasp. “I cannot, Jane. I cannot return to face them all, least of all Jonathan Blackfriars.”
“But where shall you go? You cannot wander London unaccompanied. It is not safe, nor proper.”
Elizabeth could delay no more. The moment had arrived to share her plan, as improbable as it might sound. “I am not unaccompanied, Jane. I… I have arranged to travel with a gentleman.”
Jane’s expression registered pure astonishment. “A gentleman! Pray, what does that mean?”
“I met him in the park,” Elizabeth insisted. “He is honourable and kind. He understands my predicament and has offered a solution.”
“What manner of solution?” Jane asked, her voice edged with uncharacteristic sharpness.
Elizabeth hesitated. She knew just how this sounded. “We are to travel to Gretna Green. He has proposed marriage, Jane—a marriage of convenience that shall grant me protection from the Blackfriars and freedom to pursue my writing.”
Jane took a step backwards, her face pale with shock. “Marriage? To a stranger? Have you lost your senses entirely?”
“Perhaps I have,” Elizabeth conceded, “but I would rather risk marriage to Mr Darcy than certain misery with Jonathan Blackfriars. Mr Darcy promises I shall have independence, Jane. He will not stifle my ambitions or treat me as a possession.”
“But to marry a man you met but hours ago! It is lunacy, Lizzy. No, you cannot do this.”
“Is it madder than returning to a man who would extinguish all that makes me who I am?” Elizabeth said. “TheGardiners know of the Darcys, Jane. Aunt Gardiner has spoken of them before. They own the estate near Lambton where Aunt Gardiner grew up. They are people of consequence and good character.”
Jane remained unconvinced. “Even so, this plan seems reckless beyond measure.”
“I beg you, keep my confidence in this,” Elizabeth implored. “I shall write to you once we reach our destination. I promise.”
Before Jane could protest further, the distinctive rumble of carriage wheels drew their attention. An elegant travelling carriage approached, its polished exterior gleaming despite the rain. She was impressed by how quickly the driver had made the rounds from Cheapside to Mayfair and back again.
“That is his carriage,” Elizabeth whispered. “I must go.”
She embraced Jane and rushed down the street, waving to the coachman. The carriage slowed and she stepped forward, but in her haste, her foot slipped on the wet cobblestones. She stumbled, and the hem of her blue gown trailed through a muddy puddle, leaving a dark stain upon the fabric.
The carriage halted, and Mr Darcy stepped down, his tall figure commanding even in the dismal weather. He moved swiftly to Elizabeth’s side, helping her to her feet with a gentle but firm hand.
“Miss Bennet, are you injured?” he enquired, his dark eyes scanning her.
“No, merely my dignity,” Elizabeth replied. She attempted to sound cheery but her voice came out as miserableas she felt. He turned and looked after Jane, a frown on his forehead but he said nothing else. Instead, he waited patiently, then extended his hand to help Elizabeth into the carriage.
As the carriage lurched forward, Elizabeth felt the first stirrings of doubt. Was she, indeed, acting with unconscionable rashness? Had she exchanged one form of captivity for another?
“If you wish to return, Miss Bennet, you need only say the word,” Darcy said quietly, as if reading her thoughts. “I shall not hold you to our plan if you have reconsidered.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, struck by the sincerity she saw. This man, this near-stranger, offered her a choice. Which was something Jonathan Blackfriars had never done. That small courtesy strengthened her resolve.
“No, Mr Darcy,” she replied. “I have made my decision. Let us proceed as planned.”
As the carriage rolled through the rainy London streets, turning northward towards the Great North Road, Elizabeth stared out the window at the blurred outlines of the city.
Once they had left Cheapside, Elizabeth leaned back against the cushioned seat, uncertain whether the moisture on her cheeks came from raindrops or tears. Regardless, she brushed it away with a resolute hand. She had chosen her path, for better or worse, and there could be no turning back now.
Mr Darcy sat opposite her, his expression unreadable as he studied some distant point beyond the carriage window.
Elizabeth’s eyes lingered on his face for the first time—the strong lines of his profile, the quiet dignity of his bearing.
What manner of man had she entrusted her future to? Only time would reveal the answer to that most pressing of questions.
“It is a long journey to Gretna Green,” Darcy remarked, breaking the silence. “We shall stop for the night at an inn just past St Albans, if that meets with your approval.”
“It does,” Elizabeth replied, grateful for his consideration. “I thank you, Mr Darcy, for your kindness in this… unusual circumstance.”
