Page 39 of Bella Darcy is on the Run

They stared at one another, both still breathing hard, and then Bella began to laugh. "We escaped," she said, her body shaking and breath escaping in wheezing pants. "We actually escaped."

George laughed too then, shaking his head as though he could scarcely believe it himself. "You have a knack for violence, Princess."

"I am not sure that is a character trait most accomplished young ladies aspire to..."

"You are decidedly not most accomplished young ladies."

Bella smiled at him and he smiled back, his dimple winking. They stood there grinning at one another like idiots for what felt like several minutes before George's features softened. His eyes darkened and he licked his lips nervously.

"I do not quite know how to put it into words, Princess. These have been the most unusual and terrifying few days of my life, but also some of the most glorious."

Bella stepped towards him, reaching out almost without thinking, and he took her hands in his and drew her closer. This time, when he kissed her it was achingly sweet and slow. He ran his thumbs over her cheeks as he tenderly took possession of her mouth, his stubble rasping against her skin most pleasantly, and when he finally pulled back she felt as though she had woken from some wonderful dream, blurry and satisfied and still a little lost in the magic of it.

George kissed her gently on the forehead. "We should get you home, Miss Darcy of the Pemberley Darcys."

Bella laughed, but she was not ready to leave the dream quite yet. She caught hold of the tattered front of his shirt and pulled him back to her, pressing her lips to his and pouring all the feelings she could not quite name into the kiss.

"Oh, Bella," he murmured when they parted, his hands still holding her close. "You have my heart. You are my heart. Do I have yours?"

Before she could answer, there was a loud cough behind them and they jumped apart.

"MISS ARABELLA JANE DARCY." The voice boomed across the road and Bella knew who would be standing there before she even turned.

She slowly spun on her heel, noticing George take several prudent steps away from her as she did so. She found her mother and father standing behind them with a group of men she did not recognise, all of whom appeared to have developed a sudden and intense interest in their shoes.

Chapter Nineteen

Elizabeth's feet hurt. She felt as though she had spent most of the last twenty-four hours exploring Falmouth on foot, and this was no pleasurable stroll around a seaside town. She had accompanied her husband into every draughty warehouse, every cramped shipping office and every smoky, low-ceilinged bar where sailors shouted obscenities at one another and sucked on filthy-smelling pipes. William would not have had her accompany him, of course. In fact, he had been vehemently against the idea, but she could not sit idly by while her husband travelled every part of the town in search of their daughter.

Lydia's home was very much Lydia's home, which meant that while it was cheerful and comfortable, it was also chaotic and loud. She owned more possessions and fripperies than Elizabeth thought could fill Pemberley's grand ballroom and, kind as Lydia was, her kindness was not the quiet sort. Her girls appreciated the fussing attention of Lydia and her friends, the unusual but very thoughtful Mrs Gossling and Miss Blaine, but Elizabeth found it increasingly difficult to bear. She had to think clearly and rationally. If she allowed herself to be caught up in the emotional confusion of Lydia's world, she feared she would simply fall to pieces.

She had always been very fond of walking, but at that moment she would happily have accepted the services of a grand old-fashioned sedan chair if it would take the pressure off her multiplying blisters. They had made very little progress. There were rumours and whispers, but it seemed no one in the town was particularly keen to speak to them. Most appeared scared to death. Silas Trevethan seemed to have an unusual degree of influence over many of the residents, particularly the working people in and around the docks.

The church bell sounded seven and Elizabeth felt another twist of dread. Time was running out. At nine they would be required to hand over the ransom, an amount that had been obtained with no little difficulty and was now under armed guard in Lydia's attic. It was an amount of money that even Pemberley could not bear to part with comfortably and all of their futures would be affected by the loss—with no guarantee that it would restore Bella to them. They had perhaps another half an hour, an hour at most, in which to search before the failing light forced them to abandon the attempt.

William had said very little throughout the day. She would have been surprised if she had heard five complete words from him. He simply kept moving, kept looking, kept following up each new lead. He had barely eaten or slept and she wondered just how long he could bear the strain of their daughter's second disappearance in as many weeks. The lines on his face seemed deeper than they had before, and more than once Elizabeth had wanted to take his hand and tell him that they would find her. She had not. They had both had all of the comforting words they could stomach. They needed Bella.

They rounded another corner on their way to a warehouse on the edge of town. It was a property mentioned by a small boy at one of the taverns they had visited. He had wandered by their table and imparted the information under his breath before melting into the crowd before either she or William could ask a single question. It was a thin lead, but it was something, and the group consisting of Elizabeth, William and several local men employed to aid in the search trudged into another road lined with modest houses.

Elizabeth stopped short. A man and a woman stood beside a low stone wall, both filthy and dishevelled, kissing in full view of the road. The woman's hair was loose and wild and the man's face was bruised, while both of their clothes were streaked with dirt. For one passing second, Elizabeth took them for a dockworker and a woman of easy virtue, albeit one who had begun plying her wares very early in the evening.

Then she noticed that beneath the muck, the clothes were fine. She took another step and stopped again. One of the men beside her gave an uncomfortable cough. The woman shifted and Elizabeth caught sight of her face and a familiar gold locket. "Bella," she breathed.

She looked towards her husband and had never seen so many emotions pass over his face so quickly. Wonder became joy, joy became worry and worry became righteous fury in the blink of an eye.

"MISS ARABELLA JANE DARCY."

Their daughter leapt apart from the young man as though she had been burned. Elizabeth barely had time to register the face of the gentleman who took a few stumbling steps away from Bella before William was moving. She reached for his arm, realising at once that he was about to explode in incandescent rage, something Darcy did so rarely that she believed she had witnessed it only once or twice in the whole of their marriage. The material of his coat slipped through her grasp and she suspected he had not even noticed her touch.

William crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and seized the young man by the front of his already torn shirt, dragging him forwards until their faces were only inches apart.

"You have detained my daughter, sir, involved her in Lord knows what danger and now I find you laying hands upon her in the middle of the road. Give me one good reason why I should not call you out on the spot, or better still, wring your presumptuous neck."

"Mr Darcy, I can assure you, sir, that whatever you may think, I have done everything in my power to keep your daughter safe."

"Papa!" Bella reached William before Elizabeth did and caught hold of his arm, clinging to it despite his efforts to shake her off. "Please let George go. That is, please let Captain Harwood go. He helped me escape. I could not have gotten away without him and he has been most gentlemanly. Please do not harm him or call him out. I beg of you."

William blinked twice, seeming to come back to himself, and slowly released the young man, who immediately took a step backwards and regarded him warily. Then her husband appeared to see his daughter properly for the first time. He looked over her face reverently, brushing at a smear of dirt with his thumb, and whatever remained of his anger vanished.