Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Elizabeth woke the next morning feeling like her face was filled with gunpowder and about to explode. Gingerly, she put her fingers to her swollen cheek. It was odd to her that she flinched from her own touch. She was so focused on the pain that she didn't realize she was in Darcy's bed.
She put her hand down to her side, feeling the plush down comforter give beneath her fingertips. It was like stroking a cloud. The comforter in her room didn't feel like this.
And she remembered. She was in his room. Darcy's room. And he'd loved her from the first moment he'd seen her at the Christmas party. Everything was perfect.
Swinging her legs over the side of the high four-poster bed, Elizabeth gave a small smile at the yards of flannel that swirled about her lower body. She caught sight of herself in a mirror. The woman staring back had a nasty purple bruise and ill fitting clothes. She looked every bit of ridiculous.
She lifted the bottoms as if they were a long skirt of days gone by then padded quietly out of the bedroom to the living room but there was no sign of Darcy. No sounds were to be heard anywhere in the suite, then she noticed the French doors at the end of the long room. They were standing wide open.
The view was spectacular. And then there was the ocean. All she could see was Darcy. He stood, leaning against the railing, looking toward the sea. Rays of sunlight bounced of his bare shoulders. He was dressed in nothing but black silk pajama bottoms. His back was tanned as dark as his arms. Elizabeth suddenly envied Virginia for all those months she got to watch the tan progress. His muscles, taut and perfect, moved slightly every time he raised his teacup to his lips.
His lips.
Very suddenly, what could only be described as an attack came over her. She needed to kiss him or she would never recover. Taking two steps to cover the distance between them, distance that, as far Elizabeth was concerned, should never have existed, she dragged her fingertips up his spine.
"Good morning, Bill."
He feigned an exasperated sigh. "Really, Elizabeth. If you are going to insist on calling me something horrible-"
She popped up onto her tip-toes, kissing him. She couldn't stop herself. It had to be done. It was a dirty job....
Her body went from warm at the touch of his soft lips to burning hot as his arms locked around her. Fingers snaked through her tangle of curls while he crushed his lips to hers. His firm grasp belied his gentleness when he placed the whisper of a kiss against the purple mark on her cheek. Lips traveled down her jaw-line to her neck then her throat.
Elizabeth marveled at the soft skin sliding under her fingertips. She wanted to touch him so badly that she couldn't pull her hands away from him. Indeed, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him in her grasp. Her fingers passed over his breastbone. The tears welled into her eyes so quickly that they were gone before she knew she'd shed them. His heart threatened to tear through his chest at her touch.
"Let's go inside," she said, her mouth against the silky skin of his chest. "I believe it is too early to be out of bed."
Darcy was sound asleep when Elizabeth slipped out from under his arm. She quickly found her dress and slipped it on. She didn't want to wake him. They were both exhausted by the intensity of what had happened between them, but she couldn't put off leaving any longer. She had to get her belongings out of Benjamin's room and into Jane's. Or, even better, change Jane's room altogether.
And she wanted different clothes. Possibly that adorable pale blue camisole set she'd bought last spring.
She scolded herself. Focus.
Planting a kiss on her beloved's forehead, she smiled when he stirred. A curl of dark hair fell to his brow. His eyes opened when she pushed it away.
"Where are you going?" He asked, his voice husky with sleep.
"Mel Gibson called. We're running away to be married. He's bald now and I have a weakness for shiny heads."
"Hmmmmmm...okay." He licked his lips, still asleep.
Elizabeth stared a moment longer then quietly left the room.
Jane Bennet answered her door in a rather foul temper. She stubbed her toe on the leg of the bed when she rose to see who was calling on her. When she saw Elizabeth she barely grumbled a greeting.
Elizabeth waited, patiently sitting on the foot of her sister's bed as she brewed coffee in the room's complimentary pot. Jane was never human till after her fist cup.
While the coffee was dripping slowly into the carafe Jane disappeared into the bathroom. She secured her long blonde hair into a top-knot, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. When this was done, Jane nearly had the ability to be civil. She poured coffee into her cup then took a sip. The warm liquid filled her cold, sleeping veins. She was ready to face her sister.
She nearly dropped her cup. "What happened to your-? You spent the night with him!"
"I slept in his bed," Elizabeth replied, sheepishly. "Last night."
"Lizzy! You know what I mean!"
She looked at the floor, biting her lip. "Well, he slept in it this morning. In fact, he's asleep right now."
"You brazen hussy." Jane's voice filled with laughter. Then the joy melted from her face. "What happened to your cheek?"
"Ben proposed. Instead of a ring I got branded."
"Oh, Lizzy."
"It's all right. I think Will broke his jaw."
"Will should have kicked his a_s five ways from Sunday," Jane muttered.
Elizabeth looked down to the floor. It made her uncomfortable when Jane was angry because it happened so rarely. Jane was the nice sister, Elizabeth was the brash one. If Jane assumed her role for a moment, Elizabeth was confused as to how she should act. Jane was her barometer. When things weren't normal, she couldn't justify her own emotions. With Jane so angry at Benjamin, Elizabeth felt she should be more angry too.
Quite frankly, though, Elizabeth wasn't remotely concerned about Benjamin. In fact, she had not thought of him but briefly. She was too involved in this new passion for Darcy. It was like she had discovered a whole new world because her old world had never had this kind of love and desire. Her old world had never made her so blissful just because she knew somebody existed.
Jane, astute to Elizabeth's nature, picked up on the tone of her sister's emotions.
"You don't care at all about Ben right now, do you?"
"Not in the least. But I would like you to go over to his room with me. After last night, I don't want to be alone with him again."
"Of course."
"And, Jane, I would like to change rooms. If possible, I want us to go to another room altogether. Would you mind to terribly if I crashed your privacy?"
Jane smiled warmly at her sister. "Are you joking? Lizzy, I would take you in anytime you asked."
Elizabeth crossed the room as Jane dressed. When her sister had completed her task, Elizabeth knocked on the door the joined the rooms. She waited a few moments and knocked again. Silence filled her ears. For one dreadful instant, she imagined Benjamin lying face down in tidewater. She pushed the thought out of her mind. Regardless of however rotten he was, he didn't deserve to die.
"Let's use my key."
They entered Benjamin's room through the main hallway. The room was still dark as the curtains were still pulled tight. Elizabeth reached over and clicked on a light. The room was empty. She bit her lip to smother the small moan that wanted to escape her throat. Some of Benjamin's things were gone. But that wasn't what Elizabeth saw that made her body tremble with fear and anger and dread. She saw the strongbox lying open on the desk.
With caution that suggested she was approaching a rabid animal, she walked toward it. She knew before she got there what she would find. The tears spilled onto her cheeks when she saw the empty box. Emptied of everything but her passport and her airline ticket. Emptied of every cent she'd saved to give her sister and Benjamin the perfect vacation.
"That bloody b_____d." Elizabeth's voice shook with rage. "We cleaned us out, Jane. We can't pay for meals, we can't pay for our room. He even swiped my checkbook. All I have is my credit card and I don't think that will get us out of this."
Jane put her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders, trying to guide her out of the room, but she was like a marble statue. She could feel her sister's anger at Benjamin, but she knew that Elizabeth was more angry at herself. Angry for being such a poor judge of character.
"You couldn't of known he was capable of this, Lizzy."
"You knew, Jane. You knew all along that he could do this. I should've known too."
"No, Lizzy. I knew he was a rogue. I didn't think he was a thief."
Elizabeth looked at her sister, unable to keep her emotions from bubbling to the surface. She fell into Jane's arms sobbing.
She had trusted Benjamin for whatever reason and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. He had violated her brutally by using that trust against her. He had taken something she held sacred, twisted it, and replaced it with a horrible, warped reality where Elizabeth was a victim of her beliefs.
She took a deep, shuddering breath as she drew away from Jane. She cast a glance at the strongbox. She didn't want to be a victim. It was an utterly weak word and, if there was one thing Elizabeth was not, it was weak.
"You go to your room and call the front desk. Tell them we need a constable and that they need to alert authorities on the mainland. Give them Ben's description. Make sure they know he is injured."
Elizabeth started for the door.
"Where are you going?" Jane asked.
"I'm going to get my boyfriend to kick his a_s," she replied, the usual look of mischief in her brown eyes. But, what was out of the ordinary, was the dangerous glint of malice that accompanied it.
She had been gone for far too long. The bed, although occupied by the both of them only briefly, was too empty, too cold. He cast a longing glance at the bedroom door, sighing as he pulled himself out of the bed.
The clock whispered to him that it was half past noon. Elizabeth had left him just after ten. He had been awake enough to mark her departure mentally. He chose a pair of jeans and a grey v-neck tee-shirt then headed for the shower, secretly hoping that she would return to join him. He lingered under the hot spray just in case.
Finally, he gave up and finished his morning rituals. A nagging doubt crept in a sinister fashion into the back of his mind. Maybe she thought she made a mistake. Maybe she didn't love him. Maybe Elizabeth had let him believe, let him hope for just a moment to torture him. Maybe she was begging Benjamin's forgiveness and accepting his proposal at that very moment. But the maybes could go on forever if he let them. While the doubt remained, small and nagging, everything else told him that Elizabeth, though she had a fierce temper could never be so cruel. He fought hard to remind the doubt of the passion they had shared and the tenderness she'd spoken with when they lay together after.
He heard what could only be described as a cacophony as he left the bathroom. It lie just beyond the bedroom door, out in the suite. The telephone was ringing. There was somebody pounding and screaming at the door. Darcy rushed out, grabbing the receiver as he skidded to the door. He clicked the telephone and swung the door on its hinges at the same time.
There stood Jane Bennet, mid-pound, with a cellular telephone tucked to her ear.
"Hello, Jane," was Darcy's wry response into the handset.
She gave him a withering look as she disconnected the telephone. She stormed past him.
"Did she come back here?" Jane demanded. There was a barely controlled terror building in her voice. "I can't find her. Did she come for you?"
"I haven't seen her since she went for clothes." He felt his stomach begin to clench painfully inside his body. The look of fear in Jane's eyes only made it worse. "What happened?"
Her composure slipped like ice breaking away from a glacier. She had wanted so desperately to find Elizabeth here but now her mind filled with horrible things that could've happened. When Elizabeth had not returned immediately with Darcy, Jane had rung his room but there had been no answer. She wanted to go in search of them when the deputy constable and the hotel manager arrived to ask about the robbery. She had been trapped while the DC questioned them both. Then he called the constable on the mainland who put out an APB on Benjamin.
"I can't find her, Darcy," Jane choked. "I can't find her. Oh, Lord, what is she thinking? We don't know where he went."
Jane's hysteria was terrifying. She wasn't answering his questions and, again, his mind pooled with a sea of maybes. However, these maybes were infinitely worse. He noticed that Jane rocked slightly while she sobbed.
He led her to the nearest chair, depositing her as a mother would a sick child. Tenderly, he pushed a flaxen lock away from her cheek. He placed his hands on her shoulders with a firm but gentle grip. Darcy looked Jane squarely in the eyes.
"Jane." His voice commanded attention. She focused on him. "Jane, you must tell me what happened."
His lover's sister closed her eyes as if that act alone could restore the world to its rightful state. A long, deep breath was trapped in her lungs. It hung heavily on the air as she expelled it.
"Ben's taken-"
Images of Elizabeth being abducted flooded his mind. Reflexively, his hold on her shoulder's tightened. She barely noticed.
"-all of Lizzy's money. She's broke. She doesn't think she'll be able to pay for the trip. And now I can't find her. She said she was coming for you, but she didn't and I don't know where she is."
Jane's body was wracked with another round of sobs.
"So you looked for her?"
She nodded, her face turning a violent shade of red. "She's not to be found."
"The tavern?"
Nod.
"The pizza stand?"
Nod.
"The High Rock?"
She looked at him quizzically.
"It's the cliff on the south side of the island. I used to go there when I first arrived. It has an incredible view. She loves places like that."
"I didn't know about it. I couldn't check there." Her voice was brittle, helpless.
Darcy picked up the telephone and placed a call to the constable, using his name and his wealth to let the lawman know that this particular thief was indeed a very wanted man. Then he called the tavern on the beach.
"This is Virginia," was the greeting.
"Gin? Darcy."
"Mr. D., have you found Miss Bennet yet?" Her voice was thick with concern.
"I just found out. Can Rick spare you so that you may come and sit with Jane?"
He heard the line go muffled for a moment with hushed voices on the other end.
"Pop says he'll close up shop and come sit with Jane. He wants me to help you look."
Darcy was struck again with the kindness of the Blackchurches. That they would lose business to help him touched his heart.
"I appreciate the offer, but I couldn't ask you to do that," Darcy replied.
"Too late," Virginia answered. "Pop's already clearing out patrons. We'll be there shortly.
"Thank you, Gin," Darcy choked.
When he clicked off the telephone, he ran the back of his hand across his eyes. He told himself (but failed to convince himself) that he was not wiping away tears of joy, tears of pain.
Elizabeth swallowed her rage like a bitter pill, but she could do nothing about the shame and embarrassment that were the more overpowering emotions. She hung her head low during her aimless walk around the island. Vaguely aware that she was wearing a crumpled dress, a bruised face, and lust-knotted hair, she lumbered along blindly. Not exactly sure where she was going, she knew only that she didn't want to chance seeing anybody she might know.
Considering I found Will here, who is to say I might not run into Wickham? Elizabeth pondered. Or, better yet, Caroline Bingley?
She smiled ruefully when she thought of Wickham. Had she not fallen under the spell of his charm and easy nature also? Was she doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again? She had never really trusted Benjamin, but she never thought him capable of such deceit. She'd thought the same of Wickham until she learned of his terrible betrayal of Georgiana Darcy. Darcy. Will.
"Lord, what must he think of me? Stupid girl," she spat.
Her final destination was a rock which sat in the midst of other rocks that formed a high, tiny peninsula. She managed to lift her head high enough to look out before her. The ocean had taken on the color of slate, reflecting the grey clouds which obscured the morning sun that had glanced off Darcy's back. The clouds looked as if they were set explode any moment.
She had the briefest impulse to swan dive off the rocks into the water to wash away her woes.
"Don't be silly, Lizzy. That wouldn't be a jump. It would be a free fall and it would kill you," she said, letting her words glide away on the ocean breeze.
Elizabeth felt the wetness form in her eyes, but she did nothing. Her vision blurred as the hot tears stung her eyeballs. She blinked, sending salty trails down the curve of her cheeks. The rest of her body remained still as she wept until she could no longer weep.
Finally, exhaustion caught up with her. She lie back on the rock to stare up into the ever greying clouds. She closed her tear-weary eyes.
Elizabeth fell asleep.
Virgina and Rick stole into Darcy's penthouse through the open French door. The old man gave the younger a grave look as he took in Jane's sagging features.
"Mayhap she found da ole bahstad an' gave 'im whatfor," he said. But even he didn't sound convinced.
Virginia nodded her head, keeping her eyes away from Darcy's and focused on Jane. "Your sister will be fine. You'll see."
Rick settled into the chair next to Jane's. He patted her hand. "Things'll wurk ow. They alays do."
"Thank you, Mr. Blackchurch." She tried to smile at him. "I appreciate this."
He watched as Virginia and Darcy silently disappeared through the French doors as a gentle rain began to fall. A gentle rain that would almost certainly not remain gentle for long. With nearly seventy years on this island, Rick had seen all kinds of freak weather. If the fair Miss Bennet had gone after that rat, she would be at sea during a raging storm. If she had stayed on the island there were very few places she could take shelter. It was Sunday and most of the shops were closed. He hoped that, just this once, the dull ache deep in his aged back wasn't the telltale sign of a ripper of a storm.
Somehow, though, Rick knew it did. He did the only thing he could. He gave Jane and weak smile and braced for the storm.
Darcy gave Virginia Jane's cell phone with instructions to look on the north side of the island while he covered the south.
"If you find her call me," he said.
Virginia nodded. "You too."
Without another moment's hesitation, they parted ways. The rain fell without either of them considering it.
Darcy made his way toward the point where the island jutted into the sea. Something told him to look there. He recalled how delighted with the wilderness Elizabeth had been at Rosings. She had smiled and laughed. She had told him how she'd have loved to have gardens like that.
He made his way over the beach, checking the chair that they had occupied. He wasn't surprised to find it empty. If Elizabeth didn't want to be found she wouldn't go someplace obvious. As he left the beach, the rain turned colder and fell harder.
Now he noticed it.
Darcy let his instinct guide him. He headed straight for High Rock. The rain began falling in sheets like movable glass. When he reached the rocks they were slick and in no condition for climbing. He could hardly see.
Carefully, he placed his feet in crevasses, trying to gain footing in the scraggly surface. He was mindful that one wrong step could cost him dearly. The cliff wasn't narrow, but there was loose rock scattered about everywhere to prove dangerous.
Thunder smashed over his head causing his face to snap up. His foot slipped and he caught himself just as lightening struck to his right about eighty feet.
Another small step then another. A few moments later, Darcy was chilled to the bone but not by a rain so cold that he imagined he could see his breath. There was something far worse just inches from his shoe.
There plastered to the granite beneath his feet was the butter yellow cloth of a dress that he was familiar with. He wanted to throw himself at it so he did.
Only by the grace of God did Darcy not fall.
Her body was pale with a slight blue tinge. Hair was matted to her face like dark splatterings of paint; lips were white and slack.
Darcy placed a gentle hand on her chest, looking for that gentle rhythm, willing her chest to rise and fall. He bargained with whatever greater power that would listen to just let her be alive, let her be safe.
His fingers moved to her throat searching for a pulse. It was stronger than he expected. She looked so broken that it should've been faint.
The wind picked up around them. He had to get her down before it got worse though he couldn't imagine how it could possibly get anymore violent than it was at that moment.
Gently, Darcy slipped his hand beneath her head. There was a wetness there that didn't mesh with the water from above that threatened to take them both. He held her up with his other hand as he stared at the blood that quickly washed away with the storm.
"Lizzy!" He yelled with every bit of power his voice would allow him. "Elizabeth! Wake up!"
She didn't stir.
Darcy closed his eyes, turning his face skyward to offer up a silent prayer. He didn't care who listened as long as whoever it was got them off the scrag safely. If she hadn't been bleeding he could have resigned himself to waiting the storm out, but she was and it scared him. They had to get down now.
"Lizzy, please wake up," he pleaded again. His lips were very close to her delicate pale ear. "Please."
Again no sign of awareness that he was even there. He gave her lips a brief brush, hoping that this would not be the last time he would kiss her in this life.
"I'll get you home safe. I'll see you as Mistress of Pemberley, Miss Bennet. You can be sure of that," he said, sternly. If she had been awake she would have laughed at his assumption.
Drawing a deep breath, Darcy rose with Elizabeth in his arms, taking one slow, perilous step at a time.
Virginia had searched her half of the island completely so she moved south toward High Rock Point. It was the most scenic spot on the island which is why the British colonials had named the island Granite Pointe.
She thought for a moment about retrieving her rain slicker from home but it was moot. She was already soaked and the slicker would make her hot and wet instead of cold.
When she reached High Rock there were torrents of rain that seemed bent on beating her into the ground. The sea churned violently as gales of wind scrubbed the surface. Making any kind of trek up the dirt path was shaky at best, even on good days. The storm made it positively lethal.
She stared up at the winding path for a moment, wondering if she should call Darcy. She never trusted cell phones. They never seemed to work when you needed them. Still....
She pulled Jane's phone out of her pocket and was slightly relieved to find that the battery had died.
"Help."
For a moment Virginia wasn't sure she heard anything. It sounded so distant and tiny. She stared up, trying to block the water from her eyes. She could barley make out Darcy and a bundle of yellow that could only be Elizabeth. She dove into the muddy path before her, sinking in past the tops of her the hiking boots she had chosen to wear. A fateful choice, her mother would have said.
"Darcy!" She called back to him, hoping he heard her and praying that she didn't startle him at the same time. She clawed through the mud and loose rock, relieved that the path wasn't very steep. Otherwise, any kind of rescue would have been impossible.
Darcy saw Virginia's tall, strong figure begin to climb toward him. He tried to make his feet go forward but couldn't. Elizabeth's form blocked his vision and made the next step a gamble. After a minutes that seemed like years, Virginia reached him covered head to toe in greyish clay mud.
She gave him a weak smile. "Remind me to thank Miss Bennet later for my full body spa experience."
Darcy looked heavenward again to give his thanks. Without another word, they readjusted Elizabeth and began the trip down the craggy rock.
Jane was lying on the couch with the light blanket that Rick had covered her with pulled tightly beneath her chin. She'd fallen asleep as Rick talked, at her request, about how he'd come to be the proprietor of the tavern on the beach. Rick smiled as he looked at her. He would've fallen asleep too.
It amazed Rick how much Jane reminded him of his beloved Imiah, Virginia's mother. There was a scant physical resemblance; their eyes being that nearly perfect shade of sky blue. Imiah's grandmother, an old wise woman among her people, had said that blue eyes among their people meant wisdom and knowledge beyond years. Grandmother had been right. Imiah was wise and soulful and deserved much better than being a barmaid at her husband's side.
Imiah had never wanted for anything. Her assurances kept Rick content, but not happy. He always thought she was worth more. It was his one regret in life that they'd lived so simply. Not that he would've known what to do with a leisurely lifestyle, but his wife would've known.
Jane and Imiah shared the same smile, the same lilting voice, so rich and deep it felt like velvet against your skin. Jane possessed all the little things that Rick missed in his wife.
He was too old for her. He knew that, of course, and would never imagine her to see him as Imiah saw him. Even then, he wasn't sure how she'd seem him either. Rick would've been surprised to learn that Imiah thought him to be the most handsome man she'd ever seen and the most caring and good. She fallen in love with him the moment she saw him, a scant two moments before he did the same.
Blonde curls trembled gently as Jane whimpered in her dreams. Rick gently tucked the blanket tighter around her. A soft mutter floated through the air.
"This poor girl wants her sister back. It's the least You could do."
Not overly religious, Rick and God had been on shaky terms at best for a long time. Rick had never quite forgiven Him for making Imiah sick then taking her when he knew that he would be here still for a very long time. Rick's only consolation was that Imiah had seen Virginia grow up and had known her as a young woman before the end finally came. He gave God that allowance, but not an inch more.
The door to the suite crashed open, slamming into the wall so hard that Rick fancied he'd seen it move an inch. Darcy stood in the doorjamb, holding a limp, soaked Elizabeth in his arms. Virginia, just as wet and dirty as Darcy, was before him. For a moment, Rick was shocked that Virginia had such power. Then he thought again of her mother and the shock faded.
"Call a doctor!" Darcy bellowed, snapping Jane awake. She was off the sofa in less time than it took to bat an eye. She rushed Darcy and Virginia to help with her sister.
Rick was dialing the telephone before the trio had even disappeared into the bedroom. He wondered at himself still knowing Doctor Gilling's telephone number from memory after all these years. Doc Gilling had been the Blackchurch family physician for over forty years. Since the Blackchurches still numbered two. Virginia had been a blessed surprise. Imiah had been thirty-seven when she'd given birth after years of trying. Gilling had delivered Virginia Blackchurch into life and Imiah Blackchurch into death. Rick wouldn't let the doctor near him for any amount of money.
"Aye, Doc. Tis Rick Blackchurch," the crusty old man said when the good doctor answered. "Ya know dat Anglish fella? Well, 'is gurl's right sick. Come to da pinthause at da Tally."
Rick didn't bother to await the doctor's reply. He hung up knowing that the man was probably already out the door.
There was a ruckus in the bedroom. Carefully, Rick pushed open the heavy wooden door to see his quiet, gentle Jane mightily angry with Darcy. She was blocking him from the bed where Lizzy lie. They had already managed to strip her of her wet clothes and cover her with every blanket they could find. Rick noticed a thick white towel beneath her sopping dark hair was tinged a light pink.
"You get out of those clothes! I can take care of Lizzy. I don't want either of you ill as well," Jane stared hard at both Darcy and Virginia. Seeing the logic behind it, Virginia immediately slipped away to go home. Rick watched her go.
"I won't leave her," said Darcy.
"Boy, yer as stubburn as a horse's back half. Miss Jane's right, ya know." Rick put a careful hand on Darcy's thick, muscular shoulder. He could tell the argument had escalated from the moment they had all set foot in the room. "I cawled Doc Gilling, lad. 'E's on 'is way. There tain't notin' more ya can do. Might as well oblige da laydee."
He turned Darcy toward the bathroom door. Reluctantly, the younger man gathered his things and retreated to obey Jane's order of a hot shower and dry clothes.
The silence was thick and heavy. Each one of them felt they suddenly knew what it would be like to be encased in iron. The doctor was in with Elizabeth. He had wanted to examine her privately. With great protest from Jane and Darcy, he was allowed to proceed only after Virginia had physically pushed them out of the room upon her arrival.
When Doctor Gilling slipped into the parlor from the bedroom he noticed that he was the instant center of attention. He never got used to it.
"Doctor?" Darcy's voice sounded like he'd swallowed a bucket of chalkdust.
"She has a moderate concussion. She woke up briefly while I was in there and she was coherent, but I'm still worried. I would move her to the hospital on the mainland, but the move here was traumatic enough. I don't want to risk it.
"She should be allowed to rest, but I want her awakened every hour on the hour. That should help the injury. I managed to bandage her head. I don't think the wound needed stitched."
The room itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Darcy thanked the Doctor then spun on the room. "I'm taking first watch."
He promptly disappeared into the bedroom where he set the alarm clock for an hour and laid down on the bed next to Elizabeth's battered body.
The first watch over Elizabeth Bennet's pale, still form bled into a second watch then a third. The hours crept past them all with a slowness that reminded Jane of waiting for Death itself. Virginia, having already walked Rick home and come back, was across from her chair on the couch, half-lying against one of the arms. Occasionally they would doze then snap to when they heard the bells of the old fashioned brass alarm clock clang then abruptly stop.
Eighteen hours had passed. It was nearly ten in the morning. And neither woman had been let in to sit with Elizabeth. Darcy had demanded that he be responsible for her. He'd ordered them to sleep, thinking that they might. Even the room next door was too far away from her. He lie next to her from that first moment, refusing to acknowledge that he could have help.
He watched her chest rise and fall in that steady, secure rhythm that sleep brought. Watching her was hypnotic and Darcy caught a few moments of sleep amidst the anguish of willing her better. When the alarm would sound, he'd stroke her cheek gently and call her beautiful name.
"Lizzy. Lizzy, wake up."
The first few times, Elizabeth barely stirred. She would open her eyes briefly then sink back into her drowsy abyss. As the hours marched on, though, she became more aware.
"Lizzy. Lizzy, wake up."
"Bill?" She asked after the bells rang again. The echoes seemed to bounce around inside her skull, distorting things around her.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'll always be here."
"My head hurts so much. What happened?" Each word caused exquisite pain. Elizabeth felt like Zeus birthing Athena when she'd finished it.
"Not now, Lizzy. We'll talk about it later."
In darkness that Elizabeth wasn't aware of, she tried to give him a smile, but the searing pain in her head stopped her. She managed a small cry. Immediately, she felt a soft, cool cloth against her cheeks. It felt like the smallest bit of heaven.
He'd turned on the lamp on the bureau across the bedroom then thrown a pale blue oxford shirt over it. The room was illuminated softly. His heart ached when the dim light caught the pain that the words she'd uttered brought to her. Her face softened as he stroked it with the cloth, doing the things his mother had done for him when he was ill in bed.
She braved the pain to speak again. She sensed somehow that he was here because something bad had happened. He was here because it had happened to her. "I love you. With all my heart."
His lips brushed hers as he allowed her to return to her dream state. He wiped away his own tears from her smooth white cheeks while he stared down at her face.
The night gave way to another perfect island morning. At eight, Doctor Gilling appeared to check on his patient and Darcy ordered up room service for Jane and Virginia then sealed himself off into their room. Doctor Gilling smiled as he explained to the women what he'd already told Darcy.
"She'll be fine. The cut wasn't deep at all. It was just a moderate concussion. Made her sleepy, but other than that she'll be good as new in a couple of days."
"Why did she bleed so much? I've never seen so much bloody in my life." Virginia shook her head as if trying to pop the memory out of her ear.
"They tend to bleed a little more than your average wound. The abrasion isn't even an inch long and not more than a couple centimeters deep."
Jane thanked the doctor as she walked him to the door. "Your brother-in-law is fiercely protective of his wife, miss. They must have gone through an awful lot to be together."
She simply nodded, not feeling the need to correct Doctor Gilling's assumption. She shut the door behind him, turned back to Virginia, and let go of a breath she felt like she'd been holding for days. Jane Bennet felt like she'd been waiting for days. She waited for Darcy to need relief from watching over her sister; she waited for the constable to call. She wanted more than anything to be of use, to be done waiting.
The bells of the brass clock signaled that it was finally ten in the morning. A few minutes later the telephone rang and finally, Jane had something to do. But it stopped ringing before she could answer it. Frustrated, she grumbled as Virginia gave a small laugh.
Darcy opened the door, his face a mixture of mild amusement and determination. He didn't seem tired and he was wearing fresh clothes. He walked into the room and smiled gently at Jane.
"I dare say that your sister has made a complete recovery. She's just ordered me out of the bedroom because I am annoying her by hovering about like, how did she put it? Oh, yes. Your mother."
Jane stifled a relieved giggle. "I'm sorry about that. That is a horrible comparison indeed." The elder sister walked toward the bedroom door with Virginia standing to follow.
He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Tell her I'll be back."
With a nod Jane and Virginia closed the door behind them, leaving William Darcy to himself. He made his way toward the open French doors where the sun sparkled on the rolling blue waves below. There was no evidence of yesterdays disasters beyond these rooms. Out there, everything was calm and people were living lives that had nothing to do with them. Except one.
One person had very much to do with them. One person that could have cost Darcy the most precious thing he'd ever had. One person who was the reason she ran, the reason she climbed, the reason she slipped.
Benjamin had been found and William Darcy was ready to pay him a visit.
There were certain advantages to having more money than one person alone could count. Benjamin Reynolds-Smythe, of course, being at least two generations removed from the fortune that had once blessed his ancient line, had his own suspicions as to what money could buy. He assumed that one could gain power, respect, and friends. And while that might have been true in some respects, Benjamin didn't realize that with vast amounts of money a person also had to take responsibility.
However, Fitzwilliam Darcy, being the son of old money, old name, and unimaginable riches knew exactly what perks came with the kind of wealth that small nations envied. Darcy was used to luxuries most definitely as he had never known anything else, but in his heart of hearts he knew that money could not buy what he most treasured. Money couldn't buy him honor, love, or happiness. Money couldn't purchase Georgiana's trust or Elizabeth's smile. Deep inside, Darcy knew that the best things in life weren't bought; they were earned.
That wasn't to say, though, that wealth didn't enable Darcy certain perks. In fact, his wealth had lead him to persuade Constable Standish to let him pay his guest a private visit. And Constable Standish, being a reasonable man, agreed. Darcy had not done anything so base as to bribe the lawman, thought he might have if reasoning with him didn't work. He'd just appealed to the constable's sense of honor. He's shared the tale of Elizabeth's disappearance and her harrowing recovery. The lawman's steely grey eyes never left Darcy's face during the tale.
"D__n wasted piece of flesh, ain't he?" Standish muttered. "You should have heard him wailing about who he was last night. Frankly, Darcy, I'd have beat him myself if I thought I could take him."
Darcy nodded but said nothing.
Constable Standish unlocked the door. "We recovered most everything that Miss Jane Bennet reported missing. I think Smythe may have spent a few pennies to get over here from the Pointe."
"That's fine. Just as long as Miss Bennet's things are returned to her."
They moved through the door. Darcy stopped while Standish moved toward Benjamin's cell.
"Smythe! Smythe, get your lazy, aristocratic butt up off that cot, boy. You are about to receive a visitor." Standish said the last with great bravado as if he were a majordomo announcing regal guests.
"The name is Reynolds-Smythe. You'll do kindly to remember it. You'll be writing it on checks to me for the rest of your god-forsaken life when I sue you," Benjamin hissed.
"Oh, come on, Smythe. I thought you were a gentleman," Standish put a hand on his hip then chortled. "Wait. Real gentlemen don't hit ladies. I suppose I'll not mistake you for a gentleman again."
The constable looked smug as Darcy came into view behind him. Benjamin's eyes widened as he recalled the fuzzy memory of Darcy that he had. He had seen the blurred visage of the man only a moment before the fist crashed into his face. Benjamin's hand glided up to his injury. Darcy had not broken it, but it felt like millions of tiny land mines had been planted beneath his formerly flawless skin.
"This is Fitzwilliam Darcy," said the constable.
"You. Constable, arrest this man. Arrest him at once. This is the man that did this to my face. I want to press charges." Benjamin tried to look smug the purple blossom that covered half his face.
Standish began to laugh. "Are you crazy, boy? I haven't any evidence. It is your rotten word, your poor rotten word against the rich, sterling word of Mr. Darcy." The constable laughed again as he handed the keys of the cell to Darcy. "Schmuck."
Still chuckling, Standish returned back up the hall and to the office outside. He wasn't worried about any other prisoners because there were any so he was happy to oblige Darcy in his request. Not that it would've have mattered. Justice was justice out here on the islands. It just may have been administered a little differently.
Benjamin glared at Darcy through the bars. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I?" Darcy's voice remained calm but there was an unmistakable chill lying beneath. It slipped through the air and encircled Benjamin's spine.
Instinctively, he gulped.
"What were you thinking last night when you hit the woman you just proposed to?"
Benjamin's mouth tried to sneak up into a smirk. "You don't know Elizabeth. She's the kind of woman who needs to learn respect."
"You don't gain respect by hurting a person you claim to love." The words that Darcy said were more true to him than he ever could have imagined. It was a hard lesson to learn, but he had and Elizabeth loved him for it. Almost as an afterthought he added: "She nearly died because of you."
The prisoner before him was pathetic. The smell of fear seemed to waft from him like the aroma of dead fish on the sea air. It stank the place up, making Darcy want to gag.
"She wasn't even there that night."
"But you upset her so badly that she ran off in the storm. She nearly died because of you."
"Why do you give such a damn about her, Darcy? She's a hot little piece, but there are hotter ones out here on these islands. That barmaid at that beach front bar is a better piece of tail by far, I'm sure."
Darcy felt his anger boil up and flare. His blood scalded his veins. "You'll take kindly to remember that ladies are not to be talked of like that."
"Darcy? Why is that name so bloody familiar?" Benjamin wondered aloud. "Weren'you the chap-? Yeah, rumour had it that you were turned down by a looker and it threw you for a loop." He was silent for a moment. "Elizabeth. She threw you over. That little trollop, must have wanted something more than money. Explains why it was so easy to bed her." It was a lie. They both knew it.
The key was driven home and the gate was open before Benjamin could even register that Darcy was moving. Benjamin's bruised body was slammed into the wall with such force that both men heard teeth rattle inside his head.
"You are not even allowed to speak her name," Darcy said each word slowly, deliberately to make it perfectly clear how deadly serious he was.
A quick, slight nod from the prisoner. Fear filled his eyes. Darcy could feel the tremors throughout Benjamin's body. Darcy let him go then back away a half step. An instant later, his fist was buried inside the softness of Benjamin's stomach. Benjamin immediately gagged. Another blow to the stomach and a right hook to his uninjured cheek. The skin above his eye split open and blood splashed forth.
Darcy took a quick step back to avoid the gore.
"Consider this your only warning," he offered as he turned to take his leave. He took one step forward then felt Benjamin's body plunge into his back. He went reeling and crashed into the cell's iron bars.
It took a moment to regain his balance but he managed to do so before the battered man could stand. Pulling his leg back he delivered a powerful kick into the ribs of the writhing body on the floor. With that blow, Benjamin wretched. Bloodied, battered, and broken, Benjamin lie moaning in a puddle of vomit. Darcy stared down at the pile of man on the floor and then did something he'd never done in the course of his life. Darcy coughed then spat on the man. He covered the distance to the gate walking backward and quickly left the cell.
"Don't go near her again because, if you do, I'll kill you with my bare hands."
His only reply was that of a low, aching groan.
Fitzwilliam Darcy turned on his heel, shaken to the core that he could have made such a threat. What was worse, Darcy knew that if he didn't walk away at that moment, he wouldn't have waited for Benjamin to violate her again. Darcy simply would have killed him. He let himself into the office of the jail and thanked the constable.
He walked out into the warm, bright sunlight feeling strangely cold.
The airport was nothing more than a building with a counter, a few chairs, and a vending machine that was empty half of the time. Outside, there was a thin strip of blacktop that was barely four miles long. A rather low-tech site for a vacation destination, but these islands were a well-kept secret paradise. The tourists that ended up here came back year after year and often didn't divulge their secret getaway. There were enough of them that the economy boomed, but not too many to ruin the surroundings that people came for.
Darcy watched as his private plane landed. He had not seen it or its pilot, Pete, since his arrival four months before. He smiled ruefully at the remembrance of the events that drove him here, but quickly pushed the bad out of his thoughts. Everything was fine now. He only wished that he could believe that it would stay that way.
The small plane taxied to a large square of blacktop at the end of the strip. It was the best imitation of a tarmac he'd ever seen. A few minutes later the plane's door was released and the two passengers on board appeared. Drew, tall and handsome with a tangle of dark blonde curls, was nearly carrying the fairer Charles Bingley. Even from his distant vantage point, Darcy could see that Charles was not a well man. He was coloured an angry shade of green. A gold cart, old and battered, met them to bring them across the blacktop. It waited while the luggage and men situated themselves.
Darcy walked outside to meet the golf cart as it puttered to a stop near the airport's singular entrance. Moments later, Drew Fitzwilliam was bounding towards his cousin, grinning like a loon.
"I've heard of rustic, Old Man, but this is downright primitive! Have the natives threatened to eat you yet?"
Darcy shook his head no.
"Then you must be doing something wrong." The base comment was followed by a silly giggle that indicated that Drew was still harboring his boarding school tendencies. "It's good to see you," he managed when he caught his breath.
"And I you, dear cousin," Darcy replied dryly. "I'm utterly amazed that you managed to get the Old Boy here."
Drew leaned in close to his cousin, his curls glinting in the sunlight. He squinted one eye and adopted his best Cockney accent. "I got 'im frightful schnockered, I did. And once we got on the plane I kept him frightful schnockered. He'd wake up and I'd shove a brandy in his general direction. He was passed out most of the flight."
"Christ, Drew, you could've killed him!" Darcy exclaimed.
Drew looked thoughtful for a moment. "I checked his pulse. I know CPR. He was in good hands."
His cousin rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised you family hasn't disowned you for being the bane of their existence, Old Chap."
"I'm much too adorable to disown. Mother would never allow it."
A gagging sound interrupted the witty banter. Their gazes both traveled back the cart where the greenish Charles Bingley was hanging over the side, his shoulders convulsing with each heave.
"I suppose it would be a bad time to tell him that we have to take a boat back to the island I'm on, right?" Darcy asked, laughing.
Darcy moved forward to retrieve the sagging Bingley, exposing his shirt's bloodied back. He was stopped by Drew's hand on his shoulder.
"What's this back here?"
"We've had a bit of excitement around here," Darcy replied, half-turning.
Drew's eyes narrowed. "More exciting than that time with those twins in-" He stopped at the stern look on his cousin's face. "Oh, I see. Bad excitement."
The other man snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Can we please get Charles and go home? And can I borrow a shirt? Elizabeth will kill me if she sees this."
"Elizabeth?" Drew asked, taking a step closer. "Surely not our Miss Ben-"
"Not in front of Charles. I want this to be a surprise." He cast a glance at his retching friend. "That is if we can manage to get him sober again."
When they finally got Charles to stand alone and walk, they got a taxi to the other side of the big island. They arrived at the port where Darcy changed his shirt after he let a sailboat. While Charles slept it off below deck, Darcy related the events of the last few days. He ended with the incident in the jail cell.
"Elizabeth isn't to know," Darcy commanded.
"My lips are sealed, Will. Our fair Elizabeth will never here the dirty truth from these lips." he paused dramatically. "How do you think Jane will react when she sees Charlie again?"
"Hopefully the same way I did when I saw Elizabeth. It was as if time stood still. Nothing had changed, Drew. That's a lie. I loved her more."
Drew grinned. "Indeed. When am I going to get my very own Miss Bennet?"
Darcy shook his head, laughing. "When you find one that can look at your ugly puss."
"Well, then, I guess I'll divert my attentions from the Bennets and move on. There's bound to be somebody who can accept me," Drew said, sadly. Then he brightened. "In fact, I'm sure I can find a girl out here who'll drink till I'm cute!"
Darcy shook his head, glad to have Drew and Charles there. He stifled a laugh as Drew struck a dramatic pose. Things were looking up.
The guests of Fitzwilliam Darcy were hidden safely away so that Charles could be made presentable. He was feeling much better after following the episode on the tarmac with one over the side of the sailboat and a final brandy-induced retching fit once he'd gained footing on ground.
"I've never seen such a thin man expel so much!" Drew exclaimed with the last bit of expurgance. "I half-expect to see organs soon."
"May I remind you, Old Chap, that you are the one who put Charles in this mess."
"Only helping the Cause," replied Drew, a wicked gleam in his grey hazel eyes.
Darcy arched a brow then shook his head. Drew had been impossible since birth. It was his special talent.
He had taken Drew and Charles to Virginia and Rick's house. As promised Virginia had left the key hidden outside so that he could leave them be during the day. Rick and Virginia had opened up their cozy little guest room, telling Darcy that Drew and Charles were to make themselves at home.
Once they were settled in, Charles disappeared into the bathroom to shower. He was only encouraged by his friends in the matter. When he was out of earshot, Drew, who was walking around looking at the photos scattered about, asked Darcy about Jane.
"I was wrong to interfere. They are adults and entitled to make their own decisions," he replied, solemnly.
"Very true. And you aren't doing this just for Elizabeth's benefit?"
"Well, I was at first, of course. But I like Jane now that I've talked to her. She's brilliant and I think that she'll make Charles quite happy."
"Will, Charles is always quite happy," was Drew's wry answer.
Darcy chuckled. "I suppose you're right. But it couldn't have escaped your notice that he wasn't as happy after Jane was gone."
Drew shrugged. He picked up a frame off of the upright piano that sat like a shrine in the parlor. It was an informal family portrait of the Blackchurches, taken only a month before Imiah Blackchurch had died.
"These people, who are they?" He asked.
"The man is Rick Blackchurch. The younger woman is his daughter, Virginia, but everybody calls her Gin. I'm afraid that I don't know Mrs. Blackchurch's first name." Darcy stood and crossed the room to look at the photograph over Drew's shoulder. "Rick and Gin run an outdoor tavern out on the West beach. They've been quite good to me since I've been here."
"You shouldn't have run off like you did. You gave Georgie quite a fright," Drew muttered. It was very rare that he turned serious. "Mum and Dad were quite worried about you also." Darcy left alone the implication that Drew was upset with his brash decision to runaway also.
"I'll give them my apologies in person. When Elizabeth is well enough to go home, I'll be returning to England with her."
"She's done quite a number on you, Old Man. Who would have ever thought that Stonewall Darcy would have been so affected by a lady?"
Darcy shrugged. "Most certainly not myself. But it happened and there's nothing more to it. I wouldn't change a thing."
He took his leave then, reminding Drew that he would be back before the plan tonight was to go into effect.
"And what will I be doing this evening?" Drew asked. "Will I get to visit with our lovely Elizabeth?"
"I'm kicking Jane out of the penthouse. What makes you think you'll be welcome?" Darcy chuckled.
"Just as I thought. You find the girl of my dreams and I get thrown over for her!"
Darcy shook his head and left Drew to bear the weight of Charles' anger and confusion. He still wasn't exactly sure as to why he'd been dragged halfway around the world. It would be Drew's job to explain as much as he could without giving up that Jane was on the island. That was to be Darcy's task. Darcy did not envy his cousin the pestering that he would endure from Charles on his return from the shower.
He returned to the Tally, starting up the sandstone steps that lead to the balcony entrance of the penthouse suite. The stairs wrapped around the side of the Tally. It was a short flight, or so it seemed because the steps were wide. There were other rooms that opened onto the steps, but the penthouse was the only one with a balcony. They petered out into a smooth, extremely pale orange-colored landing that was inlaid sporadically with brick red and blue tile. There was a high, gated wall that insured privacy from anybody who walked up the entire flight of steps.
Unlocking and opening the gate, Darcy held his breath at the site before him. The late afternoon sun fell all around her as she sat sipping tea. Her hair, damp and curling, hung loose about her shoulders. Her legs were bare and tucked up under her chin, but the rest of her body was wrapped in a pale grey silk robe that had seen many, many better days. There was a large red stain just visible behind her right knee on the breast of the robe.
Elizabeth caught him looking at the stain.
"I've had this robe for ages. I tried to everything to remove it, but it was stubborn. I finally gave up, but I couldn't part with the robe. It's too bloody comfortable."
"What is it?" He asked, crossing to her, staring into her face.
"Jane and I were having a "we hate men" night. She'd been stood up by Barry the Barracuda and I was having a dry spell. We thought our best consolation would be a Cary Grant film festival and cherry cheesecake."
She held out her hand, which he took without pretense, and she pulled him down to her mouth. The kiss became searing after only moments and he pulled back to kneel beside her.
"Where have you been?" Elizabeth asked.
Without missing a beat, Darcy replied: "Working on a surprise for you."
"Because the constable called. They've found Ben. He's in jail."
"Excellent," said he. He brushed his lips over Elizabeth's palm.
"I wonder, sir, why are you trying to distract me? Could it be that you have already paid a visit to out little felon?"
Darcy straightened, stepped back, and looked down at her. "How can you make light of this?"
She took a sip of tea, staring thoughtfully at him as she set the cup down. She was angry. She was hurt. She was betrayed. But none of that mattered because the love of her life, and she was convinced that that was absolutely true, was standing before her, loving her back. Elizabeth wasn't stupid. She knew Darcy had been wearing a different shirt when he'd left her that morning after his long vigil. She had to grant him that he'd tried. Tried very well to fool her. The shirt was the same color, but even a blind man could see that it had been tailored for a man whose arm muscles had less bulk.
"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should just go beat the h__l out of him." she replied, gazing at him with a perfect arched brow. Everything about her tone indicated that he was caught. "But enough talk of Ben. He is verboten. As is any talk of rain or mud or concussions. Today is a good day, even if it is half over."
Darcy looked at his watch. "Do you have plans for this evening?"
"Well, I was thinking about going rock climbing," she let her voice trail away as her cheeks, one still a mottled purple, turned rosy with a smile.
"How about a night in?"
"Gee, because we didn't do that last night."
"Elizabeth, I think you hit your head harder than we thought. You've gone rotten."
"Darling, I've always been rotten. You of all people should know that."
Darcy gave Elizabeth a smile when he left her at 8:30 that evening. He promised that he would be back shortly, that he was taking care of her surprise then disappeared. She watched after him, puzzled.
Jane had promised to meet Virginia at the tavern at a quarter past nine, which gave Darcy a little more than a half an hour to explain himself to Charles.
"I'm half mad, Old Man, trying to figure out why I am here!" Charles cried.
"Because of Jane," was Darcy's quiet answer.
"My Jane?" Charles asked, turning to face his friend. "What of her?"
"She's here, on this island," Darcy paused. "And it was my fault that you never knew she tried to contact you all those months ago. I kept it from you because I didn't think she felt anything for you. I was wrong, Charles."
"You? You kept her from me? All those months?" Charles looked at him, his face blank then filling with hurt as if someone were standing over his head with a pitcher of pain. "Why was it in your power to assume Jane's feelings for me?"
"It wasn't. I was wrong," Darcy repeated. "And I'm terribly sorry. She's wonderful and kind. And, what's more, she loves you."
Darcy watched Charles pace the small length of the parlor. Charles very rarely got angry so he was never quite sure what to do with that particular emotion. He always seemed to walk around a lot.
"You have nerve, Old Man."
Darcy sighed. It was a good sign that Charles used his nickname.
"You don't know how sorry I am."
A crooked smiled played over Charles' face. "I think I do. You had Drew give me enough bloody brandy to pickle me just so that you could bring about a reconciliation between Jane and myself. Thank you for giving a d__m, Darcy."
"Now go, Old Boy. Your fair maiden awaits you," Darcy said, standing and slapping Charles' shoulder.
"I'm still angry, Darce, but I think I'll get over it."
The two friends shook hands, each of them looking forward to a quiet evening with the women they loved.
"Jane, I think I've been stood up," Virginia said. "He was supposed to meet me here."
"Perhaps you got your wires crossed. Maybe he'll meet you across the street," the ever-helpful, ever-optimistic Jane Bennet suggested.
Virginia cast a glance at her watch. It was time.
"You know, I think I'll just go over to the volleyball court for a bit. Pop has got the part-time girl, Alicia, coming in to cover for me tonight. Why don't you come with me?"
She watched Jane mull it over carefully in her head. Darcy had given Virginia an argument for nearly every excuse he thought Jane might use to bow out. The list whirled through her head at high speed.
"Well," Jane began. "I think Darcy and Lizzy might enjoy a bit of time together."
The other woman let out a breath without realizing that she was holding it.
"Am I dressed appropriately?" Jane asked. She was wearing a pair of cut-off khakis and a dark cornflower blue tank top that matched her eyes. Her bare feet should have had white tennis shoes on them but she had taken them off and tied the laces together. She'd told Virginia that she wanted to appreciate "barefoot weather" while she still had the chance.
"You're fine," Virginia assured her.
The young women said good-bye to Rick once Alicia arrived. He nodded at them, shooing them away with an abrupt wave of his hand. They started up the West Beach toward Spike Alley, where the permanent volleyball court was located. Rumour had it that the caretaker of the site was a former beach bum who had come to the island seeking his fortune. He had found it in volleyball rental.
There was a hut on the side of the court furthest from the ocean. It was where Arthur, the volleyball guru, resided. There was a counter and a cot in the thatch hut. The counter housed the balls; the cot housed Arthur.
A game of uneven teams was already in progress. The score was grossly lower for the team with one less player. Jane gave Virginia a radiant smile.
"You go ahead. I'm sure you enjoy this sport much more than I do."
Virginia grinned. Jane was going along with the plan perfectly and Virginia hadn't even coaxed her once. She thanked her lucky stars that her friend was so amiable. Impulsively, she hugged Jane warmly and bounced off to join in the play.
Even in all her elegance and grace, Virginia looked just as at home on the court. She dove, set, and spiked the ball like a pro, thought Jane. Of course, she'd played the game for years whereas Jane's exposure had been limited indeed. She found a seat at a table on the small patio to watch the drama of the sport unfold. She marveled how the players didn't seem to mind the sharp, stinging clouds of sand that exploded into the air or the ease with which they seemed not to mind diving into billions of jagged, tiny rocks.
Jane was so entranced by the game that she didn't notice Bingley at all. He stood next to her table, out of her line of vision as she watched the players on the beach. She was as beautiful as she'd been the last time he'd seen her at Sir William's annual Christmas party.
She had taken special care in dressing that evening, though she didn't need to. In his eyes, she was always an angel, but it was a special night because it was the first anniversary of their meeting.
And now his darling angel, his Jane, sat before him still looking more beautiful than any girl in the world had a right to. He could scarce draw breath as he stared at her. Then he remembered that he should probably speak to her.
"Jane Bennet? Fancy meeting you here," he said, just loud enough for her to hear him.
She flew around at the sound of the voice that still crept into her dreams at night. Until Charles Bingley Jane had never truly been in love. She had dated a few men: Barry the Barracuda, Craig of the Unibrow, Morton of the Unfortunate Christian Name and a few more. She had enjoyed their company with the exception of Barry, a Rebound Guy who was all hands and large teeth.
But Charles; Charles was different. When Jane talked Bingley listened. He absorbed every word she said and its effect was reflected on his face. He was a perfect mirror for her. And he was gentle and kind. Nobody had ever held Jane's heart the way Bingley had done. From the moment she met him, she felt as though she had known him all her life.
"Charles?" Jane managed to choke out as she came face to face with him.
"I had hoped that we were still on a first name basis," he said as he gave her that lopsided grin that touched her heart whenever she saw it.
"What are you doing here? Charles, you hate to fly." She added in a whisper as though she were speaking to herself.
"I would have ridden strapped to the airplane wing just to see you again, Janey," he replied softly.
"What are you doing here?" She repeated her question with just a trace of anger in her voice.
"Darcy brought me here."
"Why?"
"Because I still love you."
The woman was at a loss. He still loved her. Then how could he have gone all those months without seeing her or returning her calls? How could he have abandoned her so wholly?
He saw the confusion and anger on her face. "I do still love you. I know that may be a bit tough to think about right now. Please believe me when I say that I'm sorry. I had a lot on my plate with Louisa and Caroline. They were dead-set against you, remember."
Ever-gallant, Bingley refused to acknowledge Darcy's part in their estrangement to Jane. He could see Darcy was finally at peace within Elizabeth's love. If Jane blamed Darcy Elizabeth only had one choice between them. So, no, Bingley wouldn't give Darcy up, even if it cost him the love of his life.
Slowly, Jane nodded. She did recall how tense things were whenever she was in a room with the Bingley sisters. She knew that they thought their brother could do better than her and she resented their treatment of him. But she wanted to look past it because they were Charles' only blood relatives. She had wanted to work out their differences.
"You could have told me that, Charles, instead of letting me wonder. You needn't have hurt me so."
"I know. I made horrid mistakes. I can't place all the blame on Louisa and Caroline. They often misplaced your messages, but I should have returned your calls. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me, Jane? I'll make it up to you. The heartache, the loss. I'll find a way, move heaven and hell, to make it up to you." There was a painful pleading in his voice that could only have been borne in sincerity.
Something deep inside Jane, in a place where any human hardly ever touches, clicked into place with the touch of Bingley's hand against her cheek.
"Jane, will you marry me?"
She blinked at him and opened her eyes to speak but no words flowed.
"I was an ar_e. Flat out. I don't deserve you, but I want you. I still feel you around me constantly. I still smell your soap, hear your laugh. Everything reminds me of you. You're in everything I do, Jane. I don't ever want to be without you again. Please, will you be my wife?"
His blue eyes were so clear, so honest. She could only nod. He grinned his crooked grin at her and, flying out of his seat, he gathered her up in his arms. His kiss was tender but passionate as though he'd never kissed her before.
Suddenly, the whole beach exploded into a thunderous round of applause. Jane's body jerked from being startled. She and Bingley both stared toward the beach.
The volleyball game had halted to watch the drama unfold on the patio. Jane couldn't help the giddy giggle that bubbled up inside her. She fell against Bingley in a fit of laughter as Virginia peeled off a loud wolf whistle.
Night settled over the island, flowing into every crevasse and corner like hot candle wax. A slow, smooth progression of dark blues and violets and degrees of blackness mingled to create a warm and inviting quilt especially for lovers to cling to each other under. The ocean breeze gathered other tiny fragrances to its bosom as it swept the landscape. Scents coconut and pineapple would occasionally drop down and settle around in bubbles that made her think of drinks served with umbrellas.
Elizabeth stood on the balcony, breathing in the island deep and full. She let the thought of never leaving dance through her brain then smiled it away. This place was magical and sacred. She had found him here. To live here forever would steal that special feeling away. Stepping away from the balcony ledge, Elizabeth turned to light the last of the candles that she'd ordered up from the gift shop below.
They were white beeswax candles of every shape and size and scented with lavender. By chance, she had chosen the very scent that Darcy had associated with her for these many months. He didn't realize that Elizabeth thought of him every time she smelled it also. It reminded her of the day she fell in love with him. Lavender for love. It seemed logical to her. The scent of the candles inside hung heavy in the air. She hadn't even bothered to put on her own lavender perfume because the aroma had clung to her body and clothes.
The breeze slipped around her again, strong enough to move the skirt of her pale violet negligee away from her body and make the candle flames dance and flicker, but, miraculously, not die. This time the breeze blew no tropical drink bubbles, but brought tiny prickles across her skin. Her arms were bare. The nightgown she worn was held in place by thin ribbons of violet silk lying on her ivory shoulders.
The silk hugged her upper body with the cloth forming a more of a bustline than a neckline. It grew loose just past her hips where the skirt of the gown stopped abruptly at mid-calf. It looked more like a slip that went under a fancy dress and Elizabeth had her own suspicions, but once she put it one, she knew she'd made the right choice. She'd pulled her coffee-colored curls into a pile on top of her head with a few stray ringlets making their escape from the prison of the hairband.
Elizabeth had to admit that, even with a shiner and the shrinking but still present bump on her head, she looked presentable enough to melt one Fitzwilliam Darcy's heart. Of that she was sure because just knowing that he was under the same sky melted hers.
The click of the key in the lock of the penthouse door was soft and, had she not been waiting and straining to hear it, she would not have. Quietly, she slipped into the soft, inky shadows and disappeared from sight.
The room before him was glowing. Darcy had never seen a room so warm and soft as what lie before him beyond the penthouse door. It was almost as if he'd stepped back to a time before the harsh fire of modern convenience had consumed the world. Back to that moment in history when a lady's gentle features were complimented by subtle light. Darcy was a relic to be sure, but a relic from a simpler time.
The mahogany table that served as an entryway table had all different lengths and widths of glowing beeswax on it. A stark white card stood screaming his name silently among them in a careful small, neat hand. Lavender, his Lizzy's scent, hovered in the air like an angel above the earth. The world shimmered with her magic.
He took the note card from the table.
My love,Seek and ye shall find the object
that you desire, but first find the
clothes to wear on your adventure.
E.
Darcy moved to the bedroom with a blissful smile on his face. Just knowing that she was there, wanting to be his made him ache. Gently, the bedroom door gave. He began to hide his disappointment when he found that she wasn't lying in wait for him, but then shrugged the feeling away. This was an obvious seduction and Elizabeth would not do anything less than make him work for his prize.
Lying on the bed, however, was a pair of black silk boxer shorts. And another white card.
For this adventure no tie or ugly,loud shirt is required.
He gave a chuckle. Who knew that she didn't appreciate his blending in with the natives?
Quickly, with Elizabeth invading his brain again, causing him to become very much a one-track mind sort of fellow, he tossed aside all clothing that could possibly get in the way and pulled on the boxers. He turned to leave the room and saw a third card taped to the back of the door. He took a minute to marvel that Elizabeth would know that he always closed the door behind him after so brief a time together. He plucked the note from the door and let his eyes fall to the delicate script inside.
Do you know how much I love you? Doyou know how my heart swells when
even the thought of you crosses my
mind? Do you know that from this
moment on I intend to never be with-
out you again? Do you? Tonight you
shall.
E.
Swallowing every urge he had to pull the door off its hinges, Darcy took a deep breath and went in search of her. Their rooms (he had long-since forgotten to think of the penthouse as his alone) still shimmered and shone and smelled like her. He let the scent of her waft through him and over him and out of him. Being surrounded by her was a version of personal heaven.
The balcony doors opened into the night. Vaguely, he knew that somewhere out there Rick was serving up drinks and Virginia was enjoying a night off; that Drew was probably getting into trouble and that Jane and Charles were probably holed away in the hotel room that Darcy had reserved for them. But the thoughts of other people were faint, like a photograph that had sat too long in the sun. He was focused on his lover. She was all that really existed to him.
Shadows jumped and danced around him as he stepped onto the cool tiles of the balcony. He felt small goose-pimples break out over his flesh in retaliation at the chilly night air.
"Tell me, good sir, that you are not cold." Her voice, so close he could feel her breath on his shoulder blade, rode the air.
"Quite the opposite, my lady."
He stood, fighting with himself not to grab her, with his back to her. Finally, he gave up the fight and turned, but she was gone. He looked around the darkened balcony, but there was no Elizabeth. Then he noticed the gate stood open and the flicker of a flame was growing faint around the curve of the building.
Fixing his grip on his own candle, he started after her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the glow of her candle was gone and he stood alone on the path to the beach. He squinted into the darkness, straining for a glimpse of her. In his search, he took another step forward and felt something slide next to his foot. Careful not to lose the flame on his own candle, he saw a length of red silk ribbon on the path. He picked it up.
It smelled of lavender.
A few steps later, he discovered another length of ribbon, then another. The trail of lavendered red silk led him to an alcove that he'd never been in before. And there, sitting in a circle of flames encapsulated in small glass jars, sat Elizabeth.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. There was a moment when he hadn't thought her the most beautiful creature he'd ever beheld, but, in that sliver of time, there was nothing that could have even compared to the way the twinkling light played over her white skin or through her dark hair. The way her gown glittered or her eyes sparkled. In that moment, Darcy was certain that he was only too lucky that she had picked him.
"Come and sit with me, Bill."
The name made him laugh then smile. "All right. That's it. I'm giving you an equally monstrous nickname."
"And that would be?"
"Bess."
A crooked smile that was the most charming thing he'd ever seen played over her pink lips. "Fine. Bill and Bess. We sound like we're a hundred and fifty years old."
He settled into place beside her, his gaze suddenly very heavy. "Trust me, Bess, I don't feel a hundred and fifty years old."
She ran a hand over his chest. "Somehow, I think you're right."
As if by gravitational force, their lips suddenly met. There was no tenderness, no gentleness, but it was filled with need and passion. The kind of kiss that lovers kiss after devastation and heartbreak have torn them asunder; the kind of kiss that shakes the earth to its core.
Elizabeth felt her body fall back into the cool cotton that she'd lain out earlier that evening, but she was only slightly aware of it. All she knew for sure was that she was being devoured by Darcy's hungry lips and she didn't mind at all. Kisses were covering her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, throat, and ears. So many kisses that counting them would be like counting the stars in the sky.
"I love you, Elizabeth," he growled against the thin skin of her neck, into her pounding pulse.
Hair like silk slipped through her fingers as she pressed his head harder into the hollow of her throat. She wanted to speak, but couldn't. He had stolen her voice as well as her heart. Criminal.
His kisses slowed and he pulled back from her, staring into her eyes. In the candlelight, Darcy's eyes were black and deep. Staring into them, Elizabeth found her voice. She pulled his face to hers and with her lips barely touching his, she whispered "I love you, Will."