Page 13 of Losing Lizzy

With each stroke of the oars, Darcy repeated his prayer, the one protecting his daughter from harm. When the rain started, he had shoved the blanket, the lantern, Elizabeth Anne’s doll, and the food Elizabeth had packed for them beneath the seat upon which he sat, hoping to keep it all relatively dry. Thankfully, the rain had not been as heavy so he had expected, but the winds had him fighting not to be driven into the Kentish coastline. He was soaked, not from the rain, but from his efforts to reach his child.

After what felt forever, Deadman’s Island came into view. Under the dark skies, it appeared more daunting than he had expected. The thought of a three-year-old left alone on such a place had him uttering a mix of prayers for the child’s safety, along with a string of curses, wishing Townsend and the man’s employer to the fires of Hell for the atrocities practiced against his family.

With a final burst of effort, he rammed the dinghy upon the so-called beach, actually a strip of marshland, just as it had been on Burntwick Island. Jumping out, he dragged the small boat onto the dry land so it would not float away. He paused only long enough to catch his breath and to shake out his arms to be rid of the cramps tightening his muscles in painful spasms.

Glancing up to the sky, he realized the rainstorm had moved inland, and the sky was brighter than when he had set off from Burntwick; however, the wind had not abated. In fact, it was, from his experience on the sea, what his fellow sailors would have called a “gale.”

Pulling his coat tighter about him, Darcy began to search the area closest to where the boat rested, carefully sweeping back and forth across the island, constantly calling his child’s name, although he was uncertain whether his words were being snatched away before anyone could hear them. Often, he paused to listen for a return cry, but, other than the occasional whistling sound of the wind as it shoved its way between openings created by cracks in the rocks or between remnants of abandoned structures—likely left over from the prison hulks, there was nothing moving except him, swirls of dead vegetation, and a myriad of insects that buzzed about his head.

Starting out again, he beseeched, “Elizabeth Anne!” What he hoped was dust, but was likely rotting bones and debris from prison hulks slapped him in the face, and he paused to wipe it from his mouth and eyes. “Please answer me!” he continued. “I know you are frightened, but your mother and I are here for you.” Naturally, he realized the child would not understand the hidden desperation in his words, but he worked hard to keep his tone the type that would induce his daughter to show herself, for if she was not near, he had no idea where next to search for her. He absolutely could not tell Elizabeth he had failed her again. She would never forgive him. Hell, he would never forgive himself!

He kicked up bones from a shallow grave, one where someone had died from some sort of agonizing disease. He had witnessed more than one crew mate suffer from scurvy and malaria. “Elizabeth Anne! Please, darling!” He turned in a slow circle, his eyes searching each rock and piece of lumber—each plant and scraggy tree—until, at length, they landed on a bit of yellow sticking out from a drab background. She was hidden behind two uprooted trees, whose branches were laced together, as if they chose to fall down in each other’s arms.

His first instinct was to rush over and grab her up into his embrace, but Darcy set his anticipation aside to approach slowly. She had experienced enough tragedy for any one lifetime. “Elizabeth Anne,” he said steadily, “I know you are behind the tree. Will you not come out, darling?”

At once, she began to whimper, and so he dropped down to his knees on the other side of the fallen trees in an attempt to coax her out without scaring her more. He wanted her to accept his protection—as her father. “I know you are frightened. I realize you do not know me, and I must imagine how dearly you want your mother.”

The word “mother set off her tears, and it was all Darcy could do not to reach over the limbs and snatch her into his arms to comfort her, but it was too soon. “Where’s mama?” she hiccupped. “Mr. Towsand say Mama was here, waitin’ for me, then he left. Mama not here.”

Darcy swallowed the curses rushing to his lips. Telling her he would take her to her mother had been his first choice to convince his daughter out of hiding. He must find a safe place for her from whatever animals roamed this island and from the storm. The wind had not slowed. “Your mama is on the shore watching for your return. With the wind and the rain, I did not want to risk her life. You require your mama, do you not?”

“And Uncle Allbirk.”

Darcy smiled with her pronunciation of Sheffield’s name. “Your Uncle Albert is protecting your mama right now from the storm.”

Her little lip trembled. From the cold or fear, he did not know. He could tell she had on a cape, but, with the dark, he could not tell whether it was heavy enough to protect her or not. “Who ‘tect me?” she asked sadly.

“Your mama thought I could do the job if you would permit it.”

“Who you?” she asked, her sweet face crunching up in an obvious new round of fear. Dirt and dried tears showed upon her cheeks.

“If I tell you who I am, I do not want you to be afraid. Can you be a brave girl, like your mama? ”

“Mama brave?” she asked.

“Oh, my darling child, your mama is one of the bravest people I know. She brought a beautiful little girl into the world. That takes someone special, do you not think?”

She stood for a brief second, and he could view more of her, but she nearly lost her balance when a gust of wind barreled down upon them. He was prepared to grab her, if necessary, but catching her to him would also bring about more fears, and Darcy would not have her unwilling to go with him. She squatted low again.

“Mama loves me,” she reasoned.

“Very much,” he assured. “And although you and I have just met, just like your mama, I love you.”

The wind sent a shiver of cold down his spine. He was certain his daughter must be equally as uncomfortable.

“Who you?” she repeated.

“I am your father,” he said softly.

She bolted upright and prepared to dart away. Her eyes were as round as saucers. “Mr. Towsand said there be dead people here. My papa is dead.”

Darcy moved slowly to keep her calm. “I am your father, Elizabeth Anne.” He spoke in quiet tones. “I will prove it to you. Your mama told me you would not trust me unless I knew the secret words. Is that not correct?”

“You know words?” she asked. Her eyes darted left and right, likely seeking another place to hide.

He held himself perfectly still. He could easily catch her, but he wanted her to trust him. However, the wind had again grown stronger, and dusk was upon them. He knew he should speed things along, while practicing care. “Years ago,” he began as he edged forward, “when your mama and I first met, there was a lady who thought I did not like your mama.”

“The witch Caroline?” she asked.

He was thankful to have cut ties with the Bingleys, but, God help him, it might be worth one social call just to hear his daughter call Caroline Bingley a “witch. ”

“Yes, the witch Caroline,” he said with a smile. “Anyway, I told the witch Caroline—.” The name was growing on him. “I had been mediating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bring a man. The pretty woman was your mother, and the secret words are ‘fine eyes.’”

She bolted then, but not away from him. Rather, right at him. Darcy caught her and scooped her into his arms. He kissed the side of her head and unbuttoned his coat. “Let us warm you properly.” He tucked her inside and wrapped the coat about her.

“You really my papa?”

“Most assuredly.”

“We find Mama?” she asked as she snuggled deeper into his warmth.

“We must wait until the wind passes,” he said as he turned his steps toward where he had left the dinghy. “But we have a blanket and some bread and cheese and what your mama says is your favorite doll to keep us company until we may leave this place.”

“I love Mama,” she said against the lawn of his shirt.

“I love your mama, also,” he said kissing her dark curls. He had not had a good look at all of her features, but, from what he could tell, she was formed in the image of his grandmother, Emilia Darcy. There was a portrait of Emilia in the Pemberley gallery, and he anticipated the pleasure of having a picnic lunch with his daughter before the portrait and telling Elizabeth Anne of the remarkable woman who was his daughter’s great-grandmother.

“I love Uncle Allbirk, too,” she said through a muffled sigh.

“He is one of my favorites, as well,” he shared. If Albert Sheffield asked for the moon, Darcy would attempt to package it up for him.

When they reached where he had left the boat, he retrieved the blanket and the doll and food. Wrapping his child in the blanket to keep her warmer, he set her out of the way of the wind. Then, he tore off some of the bread. “You hold your doll and eat, while your papa builds up some place to hide from the storm.”

“Yes, Papa.” Those two words reached into his chest and took root, bringing love back into his life. She was too young to understand how a man thought to be dead could finally be so full of life. All Elizabeth Anne knew was her mama had given him the secret words, which meant he could be her “papa.” It was an idea that made his chest swell with pride.

While his daughter watched, he tugged the boat closer to a rock formation and tilted it upward to lean against the rocks, but be out of the way of the wind. The inside faced the rocks. “Are you prepared to crawl into your papa’s special hiding place?”

She eyed the structure skeptically, but she followed him inside. He crossed his legs and set the blanket on his lap. Placing her in the middle of it, he draped the ends around her and leaned against the rocks to support himself and her. “Is that not better?” he asked, breaking off some of the cheese and handing it to her.

“You make a ‘pecial hidin’ place before?” She took a big bite of the cheese.

He caressed her head and rested it against his chest. “When your papa was a little older than you, my mama and papa would use blankets to make special hiding places in my nursery. We would sit together, just like you and I are right this minute, and we would have cakes and play games. Those were some of my best memories.” Memories he would enjoy replicating with his child.

“Mama say you like tapple tarts, like me,” she said around a mouthful of bread.

It should not surprise Darcy that Elizabeth had taken note of his food preferences, but it did. Moreover, it pleased him she had shared bits of him with their daughter. “Apple tarts are my favorite.”

“Uncle Allbirk likes berry bread best.”

“Yes, he does. Thank you for reminding me of that fact.” He kissed the top of her head.

“This is Miss Jane.” She handed him her doll .

Darcy said, “Miss Jane is the name of your mama’s sister.” He wondered if Elizabeth had suggested the name to their child.

“Mama have sister?”

“Yes, your mama has four sisters,” he explained.

“I want sister.”

Darcy would enjoy more children, but Elizabeth thought there would be no others. He reminded himself to be satisfied with what God had provided him. “Your papa’s sister, your Aunt Georgiana, had a baby this week. You have a new cousin. Would that be a good gift for now?”

“Another girl?” Her voice sounded sleepy.

“No, a boy.”

“You ’ave house, Papa?”

He stroked her hair and bent to whisper in her ear. “I own the most magnificent house you will ever see. Think of a castle. And horses. And sheep. And lovely things to eat.”

“And more dolls?” she murmured.

“As many as you want. And pretty dresses.” He continued to whisper his dreams for her into her ear as she fell asleep cuddled into the curve of his body.

* * *

Elizabeth watched the island for the signal Mr. Darcy promised, but, so far, there was no notice. She and Jasper sat in Mr. Darcy’s coach, both wearing coats, hats, gloves, and covering themselves with blankets. Mr. Farrin and Mr. Jacobsen tended the teams of both coaches, and she had demanded that Mr. Sheffield seek comfort at the nearby inn. Although her friend protested, she had insisted. The gentleman had yet to recover fully from his recent contagion.

“How long do you think it will be before Mr. Darcy sends the signal?” she asked aloud.

Mr. Farrin had maneuvered Mr. Darcy’s coach as close to Shepherd’s Creek as was possible in the marshlands, without it becoming stuck in the watery soil. As she had refused to be far from the coast, the coachman had insisted the carriage would provide her some protection from the wind and storm .

“The rain has stopped,” Jasper reminded her, “but the wind has increased. Mr. Darcy may not be able to keep the lantern lit until this weather passes over us. Even if he does set the light, we might not be able to see it. A single light so far away is questionable, ma’am,” he cautioned.

“I know you speak the truth, and you wish to decrease my worry; yet, I shall not rest until I know they are both safe.”

“Mr. Darcy will not fail you, ma’am. Those of us at Darcy House and at Pemberley know him a man of his word.”

* * *

Darcy woke from one of the most contented dreams he had experienced in many years. A warm bundle along his front filled his lungs with the sweet scent of cheese and a little girl. Unfortunately, his legs were numb from being twisted beneath him. He thought to straighten them, but realized he was still hidden behind the dinghy, and there was no extra room to purchase. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting on damp ground and holding his precious daughter. “Life is perfect, little one. You make it that way.” He nuzzled her head.

Fully awake now, he listened for the wind, but it had finally calmed. “We should return you to your mother, my darling girl.” He shifted Lizzy away from his chest and placed her down on the ground, carefully working a part of the blanket loose to protect her head.

Free to move more fully, he slowly unfolded his large frame, turning upon his knees to crawl through the narrow opening he had created, to stand once more upon Deadman’s Island. Gingerly, he stretched his arms over his head. and felt the tenderness in his back and arms from his rowing efforts a few hours prior; however, he remained pleased. The pain was well worth it. Elizabeth would be thrilled.

“Elizabeth!” he chastised himself. So consumed with holding his child, he had forgotten to set the lantern. She would be frantic. “It would be foolish to light it now,” he instructed himself. “Just deliver your child, and all will be well.” He prayed she would not be too angry with him .

Therefore, he caught the side of the dingy and turned it to half walk and half tug it toward the water. During the joy of having Elizabeth Anne safe, he had not considered the edge of the water would be farther removed than when he arrived on the island last evening, as the tide had gone out. However, at length, the boat was in place. He returned then for the food and the lantern, which he lit and placed in the bow to light their way and to signal those on shore of their arrival, specifically, to signal Elizabeth. Finally, he carried the sleepy child to a special place in the bottom of the dinghy.

“You leave, Papa?” she murmured.

“Not without you, my girl,” he said as he placed her down. “We are going to find your mother,” he assured softly, removing the curls from her face. “Rest now.”

Within minutes, he shoved off, using the oars to turn the small boat toward the mainland, allowing the lantern to light his way back to Elizabeth and what he hoped would be a new life.

* * *

Darcy could not refrain from smiling as he watched Elizabeth cutting up Lizzy’s food into bite-sized pieces. Last evening, he had not even thought of breaking the cheese and bread into smaller pieces so his child would not choke on them. He had a great deal to learn about being a parent and was prepared to be a ready student.

Elizabeth had been pacing the beach when he carried their daughter to her. She had frozen in place when she noted his approach. “Lizzy Anne is home,” he said softly, jarring her into action.

“Oh, William, you found her.” She rolled back the blanket to look upon their child. He knew it was killing her not to grab her daughter from his grasp and kiss the child all over. “Was she frightened? Was it terrible on the island?”

“I would not wish to spend the night there if I had not been holding this special gift from God. Nor the day.”

She had traced a line along their child’s cheek. “I pray this incident will not cause her to have nightmares. ”

“I attempted to add memories. I propped the dinghy against a rock formation to make us a special hiding place. Then I told her of my mother and father making a similar place with blankets for me as a child. Told her Pemberley was like a castle. I promised her all the dolls she wanted and pretty dresses for her to wear.”

She raised her eyebrow then. “What if I choose not to marry you?” she challenged. “Will you take Lizzy from me?”

“I would never torment you in that manner,” he said in all honesty. “However, I cannot promise I shan’t make a nuisance of myself and offer you my hand in marriage, at least, once per day. Likely more often. Nor can I promise not to employ our daughter to wear down your resolve.”

She rose up onto her toes to kiss Elizabeth Anne’s head. “You would use my child against me?”

He leaned to the side to brush a kiss across her forehead. “No, but I would use our child to win your heart.”

“You already own my heart, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said softly. Her eyes locking with his. “However, I fear Lady Catherine will not cease her manipulations until she has her way. I refuse to place Elizabeth Anne in danger again. If that means we live apart, then so be it.”

“All I ask is you do not provide me your answer until you view for yourself what I have planned for her ladyship.”

* * *

They had traveled to Rosings Park at a less frantic pace than the ones they had both employed the day before to reach Queenborough. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Liles and Mr. Ruffe, the two smugglers he had trusted with Elizabeth’s life, had made an early appearance at the inn with Sidney Townsend in tow.

“That was quick, gentlemen.” Darcy had asked the men to wait until Elizabeth escorted their daughter on a walk into Queenborough before he met with the men. He would not have Lizzy Anne encounter the scoundrel again.

“We seen no reason not to enjoy a hunt,” Liles said with a grin. “With the storm, there be no other employment to kept us busy.”

Darcy glanced to Townsend, who sported more than one bruise and laceration upon his person. “It appears your prey put up a fight.”

Mr. Ruffe shrugged his shoulders in an act of dismissal. “Not much of one. None of us believe a man should take a child from its mother. You possess a fine lady, sir, if’n you don’t mind me sayin’ so. She be very kind to us, last eve. Made certain we had a meal at the inn and all.”

Darcy smiled easily. Hi s Elizabeth had enchanted two of the North Kent gang. “I am blessed as a man may be.” He looked to Townsend. “I fear I do not have enough coins with me to pay for your services, gentlemen, and I assume you would not wish a bank note.”

Mr. Liles presented Darcy a toothy smile. “Ruffe and me thought we might carry an express to that colonel you mentioned. Been awhile since either of us be in London. You said he could see us properly paid.”

“Excellent plan. Allow me to send my servant to fetch the local magistrate while I write instructions to my cousin and my housekeeper to see you also are fed a proper meal.” He paused to calculate in his head. “I, too, hope to be in London later today or tomorrow, at the latest. It may not be necessary for you to speak to the colonel, if you wish to delay just a bit. After all, it is Saturday, and the banks are closed.”

“We cud wait to travel,” Liles reasoned, “if’n it mean we continue to deal with you.”

“If I were at my home, you would be easily presented admittance, and I have access to funds my cousin does not,” he explained.

“Then we travel later today, not wishin’ to travel on the Sabbath.”

“Neither do I,” Darcy explained. “Such is the reason I mean to reach Rochester soon and be done with the madness that has plagued my family for four years. You may call on me after services tomorrow. For now, allow me to offer you these coins in good faith.”

Darcy gestured Jasper forward. He instructed, “Please ask the magistrate to join me here.”

“Yes, sir.” Jasper rushed away to do Darcy’s biding.

“If’n you not mind, we best leave before the magistrate arrives. Wouldn’t want to permit him to know we had anything to do with this.”

Darcy understood. The men before him likely had had more than one run-in with the law. “We will meet again tomorrow.” Liles and Ruffe nodded and then disappeared into the busy town.

“Don’t I possess any rights?” Townsend protested.

“Not of which I am aware,” Darcy said casually. “In case my aunt did not tell you, I am a rich man, and money can purchase anything—even the gallows upon which you will swing for your crime of kidnapping my child.”

“Her ladyship is rich also,” Townsend protested. “She will see to my release.”

“Although I believe it a poor system, in England, a man’s wealth always outweighs a woman’ s ,” Darcy declared. “And if you think Lady Catherine holds honor and will not place this caper upon yours and Harwood’s shoulders, you are a fool. Moreover, I possess plans for her ladyship. Her reign of power is coming quickly to an end.”

“She is your family,” Townsend argued. “You would not wish your family’s name brought into account.”

Darcy leaned forward to press his point. “My family has grown smaller in the last month. I have even cut an ear l from those I call ‘family.’ If I can banish an earl, I will have no qualms in bringing down my wrath upon the widow of a common baronet.”

Townsend’s brows burrowed. “You would not,” he protested.

“I would,” Darcy declared. “My allegiance is to the woman you know as ‘Mrs. Dartmore’ and my child.”

“Your bast—” Townsend began .

But Darcy’s fist arrived before the loggerhead could finish the word. He yanked Townsend’s head upward by the hair of the man’s head. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “Do not even think that word in relation to my child. It would suit me just as well to place a bullet between your eyes, and, if you think I am too deep into Society’s pockets to make good on my threat, you should know I survived four years upon The Lost Sparro w , one of the most dangerous and ruthless pirate ships on the sea.” He noted how Townsend’s pupils dilated in surprise. “Now, here is how we are going to finish this. You will be presented the choice of hanging for your crimes or knowing transportation. While you are contemplating your decision, you should consider the fact that three members of The Lost Sparro w , which is now in dock and under the authority of the British Royal Navy, have already provided the government signed statements implicating Lady Catherine de Bourgh in my kidnapping. My aunt has no hope of escaping my vengeance and neither do you.”