Page 23 of Not Without Me, Miss Elizabeth

"Three thousand pounds!" She was amazed.

"Indeed. I had hoped never to cross his path again, but it was not to be. I have a younger sister. She went to Ramsgate one summer with her companion, a Mrs. Younge, who proved a great deal less trustworthy than we supposed. She had formed an attachment of her own to Wickham, and gave him access to my sister, whom he persuaded to consent to an elopement to Scotland. I discovered it only the day before they meant to go, when my sister, quite by chance, confided the whole of it to me. I confronted him myself, and it became plain enough that his interest lay not in her, but in her considerable dowry. I paid him to leave, and heard nothing more of him until he took us captive."

Elizabeth was shocked to hear of Mr. Darcy’s sister being caught up in such an alarming scheme by none other than their captor; it began to make more sense, as to Wickham’s schemes, knowing now that Mr. Darcy had stopped the man from obtaining a pretty dowry sum. "Good heavens. Your poor sister; how old was she?"

"Scarcely fifteen." He paused before adding with an exhale. "The cad."

"Fifteen! He is a villain indeed, that is my own sister Lydia's age. I wonder you did not thrash him within an inch of his life." The news was shocking, that a man would do such a thing to a young girl.It is despicable,she told herself.

"Believe me, Miss Elizabeth, no man alive could have shown greater restraint than I did that day,” he said in a serious tone.

"I am heartily glad you were able to save her from him. Had you been but a day later…" She reflected, imagining the worst possible scenario.

He shook his head in turn. "I can scarcely bear to think of it. I should have been entirely undone."

"Yes, I believe I should feel just the same." Her thoughts turned, unbidden, to Sarah Lawson, whom Lydia had reported engaged at fourteen years old. "My own neighbourhood has its own Sarah Lawson, a farmer's daughter, an only child. Her father worked the land honestly enough, and provided decently for his family, until he lost his footing repairing a bridge upon his landlord's grounds, and fell to his death. Sarah was but ten years old. She and her mother have lived since upon the parish's charity; a small home, enough to eat, and what little more they can earn by their own labour. Sarah is fourteen now, and has begun, this past year, to look rather more a woman than a girl."

Mr. Darcy thought at once of Georgiana, how swiftly a sweet child gave way to a young woman, the change seeming to come almost overnight. He still could not entirely reconcile himself to it; some part of him wished her forever the little sister he remembered.

"My youngest sister came upon this girl, Sarah, behind one of the Meryton taverns, in the company of a soldier. Sarah claims herself engaged to be married. I expect her mother has already signed whatever consent the law requires for one so young. It grieves me for her sake; she will lose her girlhood entirely, trading it early for the promise of a more comfortable life. It hardly seems just."

"It is neither just nor easy, that a young woman should be made to choose between girlhood and poverty," he said solemnly.

There was a long moment of silence, before Elizabeth beckoned Mr. Darcy to join her again.

“Sir, why do I not try your binds again?” She nodded towards his tied wrists.

He compelled, returning to her side, and allowing Elizabeth to tug once again at the leather bindings of his wrists. They kept quiet, while she worked, until, after a while, Elizabeth found some success.

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, with sudden delight. "I believe I am making progress!"

***

No sooner had she felt the first give in the leather than footsteps sounded in the passage beyond. Mr. Darcy rose at once, positioning himself between Elizabeth and the door with a swiftness that left her, for a moment, feeling rather more secure than she had in days. The lock turned, and a man entered.

"'Ere's yer grub. Eat it," said the thin guard she believed was called Dan, setting down a tray bearing two mugs and a large bowl of porridge before withdrawing and locking the door once more behind him.

Their circumstances remained, in every material respect, unchanged.

Elizabeth, feeling suddenly parched, rose from the bed. "I believe I shall have something to drink." She knelt carefully and lifted one of the mugs to her lips, only to cough at the taste, a rather potent mead.

"What is it?" Darcy asked.

"Mead," she said, turning to him. "Would you care for some?"

"If you would be so kind, yes."

Elizabeth found that moving the mug in position proved an awkward business, with her own hands still bound, but she accomplished it withoutspilling a drop, before turning and holding the bottle carefully to Darcy’s lips and tipping it by degrees until he had drunk.

"More?" She asked politely.

A strange sort of almost smile graced his lips, "No, thank you."

Elizabeth chose not to dwell upon the look, though she felt something flutter unaccountably in her stomach as she returned to the tray and helped herself to a few spoonfuls of porridge.

After a moment, she turned back to him. "Would you care for a bite?"

Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement. "I am entirely at your service, Miss Elizabeth." She considered, briefly, lifting the whole bowl to his lips, but thought better of it, the porridge being still too warm to hold comfortably. She took up the spoon instead.