Page 34 of Elizabeth’s Refuge (Mr. Underwood’s Elizabeth & Darcy Stories #16)

It was one of those grey and rainy days in Paris.

Everyone along the crowded Rue de Richelieu held huge umbrellas out.

Big black umbrellas, red umbrellas, multicolored umbrellas.

The people hurried back and forth in front of Elizabeth’s happy eyes, as she curled up in her armchair right next to the window.

Her mind wandered from the view to her husband.

Her Darcy.

Elizabeth sighed ever so happily.

It looked like there was a little pure river, several inches deep, flooding the road below her. The thick drops lashed her mullioned window panes.

She saw him walk up the road, and glance up at her window from under his umbrella. She waved at him. He reached the door, and there was the click of it opening.

Darcy entered the room slightly damp despite his excellent umbrella from the walk back from the fencing club he had entertained himself at for the past hour. He whistled as he opened his arms for an embrace and a kiss.

Before their reunion — after a whole three hours today — went further than a deep kiss, there was a sharp knock on the front door to their apartments. A few minutes later the housekeeper brought in a wiry young man who wore a riding coat and had the lean appearance of an athlete.

He had a leather pouch and said in a clear English voice, “Express sent from England. From England! Express.”

Elizabeth felt an anxiety as she stood next to Darcy. He reached to take the mail pouch from the young man.

“Apologies, sir.” The messenger shook his head. “The instructions were quite precise. To only give into the hands of the lady who is the recipient. You—”

“Who sent it!”

“Well, was his lordship, Earl of Lachglass. You be Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“I was, I am Mrs. Darcy now.” Elizabeth was surprised at how calm and steady her voice was.

Perhaps, some tiny part of her mind thought, he wrote to declare that he had realized the wrongness of his ways, and repentantly wished to assure Elizabeth she could return to England and have no further worry of being bothered by him.

The messenger drew out the still crisp letter from his oiled leather pouch that had protected it from the rain, and any other inclement conditions that may have been encountered on the journey from England.

He handed the letter to Elizabeth and then looked between the two of them with a sort of expectant smile.

“Find a different employer than that man if you wish a tip from me,” Darcy harshly said.

“Now, my dear, that comes perilously close to punishing the messenger.” Elizabeth stared at the letter, and the deeply imprinted wax seal of the earl.

She did not yet feel in sufficient command of herself to simply tear open the letter and look at what message was given to her by her enemy.

“Give the poor boy what you would have if this letter had been sent by a man we are on some friendly terms with.”

Darcy grunted with annoyance and fished a small silver coin from his purse.

He stepped closer to Elizabeth who had made no move to open the letter.

She recognized the stationery. It was the same paper she had used to have his daughter practice her letters with during her brief time in Lord Lachglass’s employ.

Fine and thick paper. And really excellent wax that gleamed even in the rainy grey light from the windows.

If she were of a different temperament, she might lever off the reddish purple wax, with the seal perfectly pressed into it, and store it in a collection of pieces of sealing wax she had received as one of the best in her collection.

The messenger was gone from the room, along with the housekeeper.

Darcy took the letter from her numb fingers, and he efficiently ripped it open, destroying the red wax and smearing a little bit into his fingernail.

He read the paper with at first a deepening scowl and then a completely blank emotionless face. No sign of what he felt was openly visible.

Elizabeth thought her Darcy might receive the promise of his own death from a physician with a similar expression. A proud and firm expression, but one that could not hide his worry or his feelings from Elizabeth, not from his Elizabeth who knew him so well.

“What news?”

Darcy put the letter down on the table. At first Elizabeth thought he was about to crumple the paper and toss it into the fire, but he thought better of that and instead just pushed the pages away.

“Your sister Kitty, and your mother. He has abducted and imprisoned them,” Darcy said at last, after a pause that was dreadful to Elizabeth’s feelings.

“He swears that he shall have them killed if you do not come to his estate in England. The letter has some other threats within it, but that is the essence of the matter.”

Elizabeth grabbed for the letter.

“You do not wish to read what he wrote. Believe me, you do not.” Darcy held the white fluttering pages away from her.

“What can we do? — do you think. Oh, God. What can we do?”

Darcy put the letter away in his waistcoat. He opened his mouth to respond, and for an instant Elizabeth felt a surge of hope that her Darcy would have some notion of what to do that would immediately rescue her mother and sister.

But he then closed his mouth.

Elizabeth shivered, like she had when she sat in his drawing room, awaiting Darcy’s return after walking six miles on a swollen foot in a freezing London without a coat or proper shoes.

“At the first we shall contact a judge in his county to send constables to his estate,” Darcy said at last, pacing next to the rainy window.

“This is not a sort of matter which he can expect to escape punishment from. This letter alone is proof that he is the one to cause the disappearance. He has been deeply incautious. When the magistrates descend on his house—”

“He will simply do what he swears, and kill my sister and my mother.”

“Elizabeth…” Darcy walked up to put his arms around her.

His touch was not enough to comfort her. She felt her skin crawling, and part of her wanted to shout at Darcy to leave her be.

Her mother. Her little sister.

Elizabeth panted horribly. She felt like a bare-knuckled punch had been delivered to her sternum, and the air would no longer come in.

“Breathe, Lizzy.” Darcy gripped her tightly, holding her body comfortingly against his solid mass. “Deep breaths. One breath in. Breathe out. One breath in. And then breathe out. Breathe, Lizzy.”

She followed his orders, and breathed in long shuddering breaths.

He kissed her hair. “We’ll rescue them. We’ll find a way.”

Her mother. Her sister.

Kitty had grown to look very like Elizabeth. Would Lord Lechery slake his lusts on her now that he could not touch Elizabeth? What did he plan to do with Elizabeth when she came to his estate — for she knew she must, even if he killed her.

She was shivering, feeling scared and unsafe, despite Darcy’s hold.

She saw her mother, her nervous anxious mother, who despite everything she loved. She imagined her mother caught in this terrifying situation, trying to complain of matters to her captors like she would to all her friends, and them screaming at her to shut up.

“I must go, as he ordered.”

“He means to kill you, or worse.”

“There is nothing worse than him killing me.” Elizabeth pulled out of Darcy’s hold and walked to the window. She hunched her shoulders.

The sky was still grey, rainy, and ugly.

Darcy walked up to her, but while he had a firmness in his face, she could tell from his manner that his mind was endlessly spinning, and not coming to any conclusion.

She gulped air repetitively, and she pressed her elbows against her sides, as though that pressure was the only thing which kept her from dissolving into a million pieces.

Then Darcy’s distraction faded away. He stood taller, with something that was almost a smile.

Yes , she saw him mouth to himself.

Darcy said, “Do you trust me? You have claimed me as your champion. Your dragon slayer.”

“He will kill my family. I must go. I see no other way. I must go.”

“Perhaps, we must go.” Darcy put his arms around her once more, and he held her tightly against him.

“But he shall not be permitted to win. Yes, we must go, and I fear that you will be the bait to draw the vile dragon out of hiding, so that he may be trapped and his hoard seized. But we can slay this dragon.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I mean it. I have a scheme in mind. We’ll win through this and turn the tables on him.”