Spirited Away Read online

  Spirited Away

  A Pride and Prejudice Novella

  Alix James

  A Lady

  Illustrated by

  RL Sather

  Copyright © 2020 by Alix James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my Family

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Alix James

  1

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the steps of Netherfield, a shoulder’s breadth behind Bingley as they watched the carriage out of the drive. For the first time in days, he released the stale air kept prisoner in the depths of his lungs. He had survived the ordeal.

  Not that he had found it unpleasant to walk through the halls of the great house and hear her musical voice echoing near. Nor was it an odious fate to look up from his book or his dinner course and find her heart-shaped face opposite. Rather, it was a muddled warmth that overcame him when she was near—a curious blend of hair-raising thrill such as one of Richard Fitzwilliam’s hunts, and the bubbly sensation of too much champagne on a summer’s eve. Elizabeth Bennet: the Calypso of Hertfordshire.

  Charles Bingley kept waving every few seconds at the retreating carriage, as if the small gloved hand that had slipped out of the window twice already had not adequately assured him of its occupants’ regret at leave-taking. Caroline Bingley made a less than hospitable-sounding noise in her throat and turned back to the house, summoning her brother to follow her lead with a withering look. For his part, Darcy was only too glad to fall back to the drawing-room and pretend the last week had never happened.

  How had he, whose defenses had always before been unassailable, so quickly succumbed? It was almost as if she possessed some enchantment by which she had cast a silvery veil over all those imperfections he had noticed upon their first meeting and transformed them into qualities. Her mouth was too wide for her face, yet her smile was all the more brilliant for it. Her figure was too lithe to be called shapely, but none could equal her light, energetic steps. And those eyes, set fractionally too far from each other for fashion—perhaps the Creator had intended it so, to draw notice to their exotic shape and glorious sparkle.

  Something unnerving had begun to take place over the last days—something he had long anticipated with as much trepidation as desire. He was not easy in company—never had acquired the knack for ready retorts and witty charm. With his family, he was a simple, humble man, always earnest and never worried for what others thought of him. Among his peers in society, he was aloof, carefully measuring each word and manner for how it might be perceived, or what sort of confidence he projected. But with one impertinent girl from a nearly anonymous family in Hertfordshire, he discovered yet another side of himself. He was petrified—deliciously and hopelessly so.

  How easily her cleverness had satisfied his every notion of female perfection! When confronted with slights and barbs, she swatted them away with humor and good grace. She was a student of characters, as he was himself, but she frequently observed things that made him stop and reconsider his own opinions. And she read; philosophy to nourish her thinking, books of science to inform her mind, and novels to lighten her character. It had come to the point that the mere sound of her bewitching laugh sent Darcy’s organs into a twist and made his head light. Afflicted with madness he was, for if he permitted himself his desires, the consequences to his family’s reputation were immeasurable. The only trouble was that each day she was near, he cared less and less about that.

  Darcy restrained a taut sigh as Caroline launched into a soliloquy on the unfitness of the Bennet sisters for their society. Poor Charles tried to ignore her by toying with the fire, but this only provoked her to enlist Darcy’s aid in decrying the fair Jane Bennet’s virtues. Darcy performed minimally—confessing only that the family’s fortune was wanting and the manners of the parents and younger sisters were abysmal. Miss Bennet was an inoffensive creature, and he would not slander her, and Miss Elizabeth… well, anything he might say there would prove a bit too revealing, for he was incapable of concealment.

  Relief came after an hour, in the form of a footman carrying a salver. “An urgent message for you, Mr. Darcy.”

  His own curiosity was no less than that of the others in the room, for the note was not properly sealed or franked. A local message, then… but from whom? Miss Elizabeth would not be so immodest, though he would be a liar if he did not confess to himself that the thought of her sent his heart racing. Her father, perhaps? No, foolish fancy, that.

  Darcy excused himself to the privacy of his room for the discovery. As soon as he had opened the note, he was exceedingly glad that he had no witnesses to his astonishment.

  My dearest Cousin,

  Long have you been my ally in many things, much to Mama’s vexation and Richard’s amusement. You know I would never force you to bear that which you found abhorrent, nor would I impose any request upon you which could be to your disadvantage or displeasure. However, I am in great need.

  A fortnight ago, my beloved Mr. Sullivan proposed. You remember Daniel, for he was the young cousin of our neighbors, the Coburgs. Though he has no fortune of his own, I accepted with all joy, for no other could so perfectly suit my wants. Perhaps he is not the most handsome fellow, but I have heard from your own lips how a person’s attractions can grow through fond attachment until they are the loveliest being of your acquaintance. So it is with my own heart.

  You may imagine that securing Mama’s blessing was a trying affair. I shall spare you the details, but Daniel had the hounds set after him, the dear man. As for me, Mama has circulated the report that I am afflicted with scarlet fever and can receive no guests save that odious parson of hers! Even he is being sent away to preserve the secret. And so, my favorite cousin, I have done something that will astonish you nearly as much as it has myself; I have run away.

  I had your last letter, in which you described your intent to journey to Hertfordshire. I secreted it from Mama—despise me if you will, but I was rather desperate. You were the only person I could think to turn to just now. Pray, dear Cousin, if you have the slightest compassion, as I know you do, come to me at the Ram’s Head Inn in Meryton as quickly as ever you may. I will be waiting most anxiously,

  Anne

  Darcy nearly collapsed into his chair, so profound was his dismay. Anne—gentle, submissive Anne, on the run and hiding at an inn like some common doxy! His horror was matched only by his resolve that no one should learn of her outrageous behavior… and that no harm should come to her.

  He sent a footman to the stables with a message to saddle his horse. A quarter of an hour later, dressed in his riding breeches with a greatcoat thrown over his arm, he made his harried excuses to the Bing
leys.

  “Forgive me—” He bowed from the door. “A matter of some urgency, it cannot be helped. I shall return before dinner.”

  The startled gasps and disappointed pleas from the ladies faded quickly, for mere moments later, his horse’s hooves were pounding the gravel, on the road to Meryton.

  2

  “Elizabeth, how could you bring Jane home so soon? Why, I think she might have taken a chill again,” Mrs. Bennet fretted. “Truly, did not Mr. Bingley himself say that she was better off where she was for another day or two?”

  Elizabeth caught a sigh between her teeth and forced a cheerful smile. It helped that her father sat opposite her, offering a conciliatory chuckle and a twinkle in his eye every so often. “Mama, Jane herself desired to come away. It is not as if she was ever so ill in the first place that she was in any danger. Her comfort is better served at home.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “I daresay she was near to coaxing Mr. Bingley into offering for her, and he would surely have done so if you had not brought her away. You said yourself that she was well enough to come to the drawing-room and that he was ever so gentle with her.”

  This time, her sigh was audible. “I beg your forgiveness, Mama. But I did hear, at least I believe I heard that there is to be a ball soon at Netherfield. And, you know, Mr. Bingley enjoys riding into Meryton quite often. Surely, within a week, Jane will feel well enough to walk to town, and they may flirt as freely as any couple in broad daylight has ever done.”

  Her father skillfully disguised a snort of laughter as a mild cough as he lifted his paper once more.

  “Oh, you have no compassion on my nerves, Lizzy! You mock your poor mama, and at such a time with Mr. Collins coming to look over Longbourn this very evening as if ‘tis already his own!”

  Elizabeth sobered. “Dearest Mama, I am sorry. Do not be concerned over Papa’s cousin—I am sure he will prove… amusing.”

  Mr. Bennet coughed again—longer this time.

  Mrs. Bennet sniffled into her handkerchief, but then her eyes sharpened. “Oh, I had nearly forgot—my silver chocolate service! Mr. Bennet, that was my mother’s kettle, and I’ll not have Mr. Collins presuming he is to inherit my silver!”

  “Calm yourself, my dear,” was her father’s laconic response. “I am sure that none could desire such a meretricious piece as the one belonging to your late mother. Such… fine taste… surely, it is above Mr. Collins’s pretensions.”

  Mrs. Bennet nodded, somewhat relieved. “Yes, yes, you are right, Mr. Bennet. All the same, I would feel much better if it is not here when he should start counting the silver, for I’ve no doubt he will do such a thing! Lizzy, you look positively restless. Take my silver to my sister Philips and ask her to hold it for me for a fortnight—stay, I will send a note.”

  “Mama, surely it is not so important as that!” Elizabeth objected.

  Mrs. Bennet froze and sent her daughter a look that might have been interpreted as hunted, if it belonged to an animal rather than a woman. “Not. My. Silver.” She hissed between clenched teeth. “And hurry back, for if this Mr. Collins is inclined to offer for one of my girls, I shan’t have you looking like a hoyden when he arrives to look you over.”

  Elizabeth sighed a third time.

  It was an ugly piece, and that was stating it kindly. Elizabeth had always marveled that any artist could have wrought something so grotesque out of the finest sterling. Even its purpose of serving hot, rich sweetness did nothing to improve it in the mind’s eye—it was simply a monstrous thing.

  At least it was not heavy, a fact for which Elizabeth was grateful as she flew over the fields. It was at least half an hour shorter this way, and even faster when she could run part of the distance. In short order, she had arrived—breathless—at the top of the main street in Meryton. She wiped the worst of the mud from her boot heels with a stick, straightened her skirts, and strode into town with purpose, her basket clutched at her side.

  There was little of note in town this afternoon. Few souls milled about, and those who did were not among her favorites. She passed on, her eyes skipping to and fro for some item of interest. The Stevens family’s new coachman loitered outside the blacksmith’s with a handsome team of bays. The Lucases’ youngest maid and the Purvis’ senior footman were walking out together—that was a development sure to displease Lady Lucas when she lost her kitchen girl.

  And what was this? Mary King wearing a new walking gown that looked to be fresh from a London modiste? Perhaps the rumors were true, and the girl had some fortune after all. She might even catch a husband after all—for the poor girl possessed few enough natural attractions.

  Elizabeth paused and looked up from the street. The Philips’ domicile was on the second floor of her uncle’s building, directly beside the inn. As she preferred to avoid troubling her uncle at his work, she went around the back way, passing through the stable yard.

  Only one horse stood saddled in the yard, and he was a dazzling creature if she had ever seen one. Elizabeth, no great admirer of horseflesh herself, could not help but to cast an appreciative eye over the beast as he stood quietly beside a groom. Not only was he exquisitely proportioned and fitted out, but he was the very image of health and good care. What a fine thing if such a handsome creature belonged to the cousin expected to arrive that evening! A man of such taste could not be all bad. But no, he would not have stopped off at the inn, and so another vain hope died.

  She turned from the horse and sought her aunt’s window. There would be a glow from her sitting room… but the light that caught her eye was from the third floor of the inn next door. A woman’s shadow and a man’s figure crossed over the drawn shade. They were rendered clearly enough for Elizabeth to make out agitation—hands gesturing, fists on hips… and then the woman seemed to fall forward in supplication, casting her head over the gentleman’s shoulder.

  Gracious! Perhaps I have read too many novels, but I would dearly love to know the rest of that story! she thought to herself. But, as it was no affair of hers, she knocked at the rear entrance of her aunt’s home and made her delivery.

  She did not stay long, for she hoped to be home before it was full dark, but she promised to return on the day after the next to satisfy her aunt’s craving for company. Just as she was opening the door to leave, her eyes caught a flash of movement from the stable yard. The striking-looking horse was being mounted, his rider’s back turned. A tall, broad fellow… The gentleman tossed a coin to the groom, who caught it and then stared in disbelief and gratitude. Then, the rider whirled the horse about and was in a full gallop before he was entirely out of the stable yard.

  Elizabeth hesitated before pushing the door open the rest of the way. The gentleman’s manner had been furtive and hurried, as if he desired for none to witness his presence. Even the groom shuffled off and pretended that nothing at all had just occurred. Elizabeth stared after the rider, for she had recognized that face. Indeed, it might just be the most memorable personage in all her acquaintance, if not necessarily for pleasant reasons.

  Mr. Darcy.

  3

  “My dear Mr. Darcy, do you ride out again so soon?”

  Darcy stopped short in the hall and forced his voice and manner to serenity before turning to face his hostess. “I offer my regrets, Miss Bingley, but I cannot delay.”

  The lady pouted most artistically. “But you and my brother have already brought in a dozen birds—why! I think we shall have to send them to the tenants to eat if you go out yet again. You are such a splendid shot; you cannot miss.”

  “My purpose this afternoon is not shooting, Miss Bingley. If you will excuse me, I shall return by tea time.”

  “And Louisa and I were to walk in the garden!” she lamented. “We had hoped for your company. Of course, if your duty is unavoidable, you must go, but you are terribly cryptic about it all. Ah, I know what it must be!” She paced slowly around him, laughing and attempting to blush. “Never you mind, sir, for your secret is s
afe with me.”

  Darcy lifted a brow, wondering what “secret” she had divined. Rather than prolonging the conversation, he simply bowed. “You are most gracious, madam.”

  It had been two days since he had received Anne’s reckless missive. In all that time, he had found little alternative to simply leaving Anne alone in her room in the inn. A lucky—or, rather, unlucky transgression on Anne’s part, when she had ventured out after Darcy had expressly implored her to stay in—had brought a young lady named Sarah Long into Anne’s fellowship. Inspiration had struck, and after a covert visit to the girl’s guardians, Darcy had secured the young lady’s company for Anne during her stay. He was only grateful that the girl’s status in society was just high enough that she was a suitable companion but not so high that her family objected to the healthy addition he had agreed to make to her meager dowry.

  Still, it was a frightful chance. Girls like Sarah Long had friends and would be missed, no matter what excuses her aunt made. Every day increased the risk of discovery and encouraged potential gossip, but what was there to do? Anne was of age, and he could not force her to remove to their uncle’s townhouse in London. So resolute was she that even the suggestion of calling Richard to Meryton was met with suspicion, but at last, she had permitted him to write the letter.