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Elizabeth

T he 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 facade.

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 had stopped 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.”

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. “The Gardiners 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 miserable as 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.”

“There is no need for thanks, Miss Bennet. I believe our arrangement shall prove advantageous to us both.”

His words, though spoken with apparent sincerity, reminded Elizabeth of the transactional nature of their understanding.

This was not to be a union of genuine affection, but rather one of mutual convenience.

She would do well to remember that distinction, lest she develop expectations their agreement could not fulfil.

As London receded behind them and the countryside unfolded, Elizabeth felt the weight of the day’s events descend upon her. Exhaustion claimed her, and she surrendered to its embrace, closing her eyes as the carriage bore her towards an uncertain future.