The Dread Mr. Darcy Read online

  The lifeboat pitched and rocked on the ocean as the men rowed them over to Darcy’s ship.

  So, how had Mr. Darcy become a pirate? She had heard that he had no money, that he’d gambled his fortune away, and that there was little left except his family estate. His sister had been killed in some tragedy. Elizabeth wasn’t certain, but she thought the girl had been flung from a horse to her death. Darcy had no other family. He had apparently taken the loss of her hard. How Mr. Wickham figured into it, she couldn’t say. Whatever the case, it seemed that Darcy was desperate. He’d turned to piracy because he had nothing else to lose.

  But she had never imagined a man that she had once seen in polite society could become so bloodthirsty. It was absolutely dreadful.

  Still, she supposed that neither of them were in the same position that they’d been that day in which they’d exchanged polite greeting at Meryton. Both of them had changed, and for the worse.

  She hadn’t turned to piracy, and she wasn’t running about with daggers threatening to kill people, but she had fallen as well.

  It had been years ago. Six years ago. Back before she’d watched every single one of her four sisters marry, one after the other, while she got no offers.

  Even Mr. Collins, the man on whom their estate was entailed, should have asked for her hand, by all rights. Jane was engaged, and she was the next oldest sister. But he had skipped her and gone straight to Mary. Of course, Elizabeth had to admit that Collins and Mary did have rather twin dispositions, and they were made for each other.

  A year after Kitty had made a match with a man wealthy in the silk trade, Elizabeth’s father had died. Longbourn had passed to Collins and her sister Mary. Elizabeth was welcome there, but she found the two of them frightfully difficult to be around. Everything was a sermon. Everything was about suffering, and the lessons one learns from such a state, and how Elizabeth must be marked by God to learn many, many lessons, somewhat like Job or Abraham. It was enough to make Elizabeth want to tear out her own hair.

  So, then Elizabeth began to spend all her time moving from relation to relation, like a stray cat going wherever they would feed her.

  At some point, she supposed they had all grown rather sick of her, because they had gotten together and put the money together to send her to India. She thought that Kitty’s husband—the man’s name was Bolton—had contributed the most funds to the pot, but she was embarrassed to say that she thought they all had, even Lydia’s pisspoor military husband who was rather bad with money. He was like Darcy in that way. Too much gambling. Lydia did not have excellent taste in men.

  At any rate, Elizabeth thought they had meant for her to be pleased by the gift of the trip to India, but Elizabeth had only felt as if she was so unwanted that she had to be shipped across the ocean to find a husband.

  More and more, men of good breeding were coming to India to work for the East India Company, and when they got there, they were all alone, because there were no women besides the locals. The men of India were eager for English women, and the women who came here were always married off.

  True, it would mean that Elizabeth might live out the rest of her days in a foreign land, never seeing her family or friends again, but they didn’t seem to want her underfoot, and they had gone to some trouble to put the voyage together for her. She didn’t feel as though she could refuse.

  It was true that never getting married meant that she would be worthless. She would be a bother to her family, not useful in any way, and she would be no one of consequence. She would live out her years in the way and lonely. So, she told herself that India was a worthy alternative.

  However, she hadn’t found a husband here either. She didn’t know why. All of the other women who’d accompanied her six months ago were married by now, some even already with child. She had gone to all the same events as they, danced with men, smiled, curtsied, and made small talk. Sometimes, she thought that someone was interested.

  But nothing ever came of it.

  No one asked for her hand.

  And so, it must mean that something was wrong with her. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She knew that she had her faults. All people did. She wasn’t a flawless beauty, for one thing. Her lips seemed a little to big for her face and her nose perhaps a bit too small. She was thin, but not as thin as some, and her hips were perhaps too wide.

  But the other women who had come over with her were no more or less pretty than she was, at least not on any level that she could understand.

  Why hadn’t she found a husband?

  Well, sometimes people didn’t.

  She had known the women who had been spinsters in England and had often thought to herself that they looked just the same as the other married women of their own age. The truth was that sometimes, a woman just got left out. There was no man for her, and she had to live out her life on her own.

  Apparently, Elizabeth was such a woman.

  It was odd, truly. When she had boarded the vessel that she was now leaving behind, she had thought to herself that her life was over and that there was really no point in living anymore. She had known that she was bound back to England, to be an annoyance to everyone she loved.

  But strangely, when her life had been threatened, she hadn’t given in, allowed death to take her.

  No, she’d found that she fiercely wanted to live. A life without a husband was sure to be a sad one, but it was better than no life at all, it seemed.

  She shut her eyes and held onto that feeling, to the joy of being alive. She had felt so little joy in so long. But it was amazing how living through a life-threatening experience managed to realign her priorities.

  When they reached the pirate ship, Elizabeth looked around with curiosity. She half expected the ship to look quite different than any other, as if the fact it was used for piracy would mean that evil oozed out of its boards.

  But the truth was, it was disappointingly ordinary, like every other ship she’d ever seen.

  The captain took her down into the belly of the ship, throwing open the door to a small room that only contained a bedroll. The place smelled faintly of onions.

  He had the men deposit her trunk on the floor and then told them to leave. He looked around the room. “Until recently, this was food storage. I had the men clean it out for you, because it is just down the hall from my quarters.” He pointed.

  She looked and saw a door a few feet away. It had a brass handle.

  “If anyone comes and gives you trouble, come and find me,” he said.

  She nodded.

  He looked her over.

  She raised her chin.

  “You still haven’t thanked me, Miss Bennet.”

  “Oh, haven’t I?”

  “No,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything.

  His nostrils flared, and he leaned close. “Have a care, Miss Bennet. I might change my mind and kill you any time I like.”

  “And that is precisely why I shall not thank you, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows at that. And then, recovering, he chuckled slowly. “Have it your way.” He shoved her inside her room and shut the door.

  At once, she was plunged into darkness. He hadn’t even given her a lamp.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Don’t see why you didn’t just kill her,” said Mackie. “Would have, if it was me.”

  “I meant to,” said Darcy, sighing. “But I changed my mind at the last minute.”

  “You’re the one always saying a woman on a ship is nothing but trouble.”

  “And she will be,” said Darcy. “Nothing but trouble, I’m sure of it.”

  “So? Why didn’t you kill her?”

  Darcy made a sour face. “Are you in the habit of murdering lovely young ladies, Mackie?”

  “Well, no, I suppose not, but we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes. I know that, and you know it, too. If you’re feeling squeamish, Cap’n, I’d be happy to stick her for you.”

  “No, th
at won’t be necessary,” said Darcy. He turned, looking around his quarters. “I didn’t call you here to talk about whether or not it was a good idea to keep her alive. I know it wasn’t.”

  “Well, I don’t see why you did it then.”

  “There’s no reason for it.” Darcy glared at him. “Just stop it, why don’t you? I don’t want to discuss that.”

  Mackie crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t say anything.

  Truthfully, Darcy wasn’t exactly sure why he’d kept her alive. He did remember her, at least vaguely. Not enough to recall her name or her family or anything about her. But he remembered the night that he had confronted Wickham. Of course he remembered that. And he remembered Bingley’s bride. She had been pretty, and she’d had a bevy of sisters, some of them horrid. The mother had been abominable. He remembered that.

  But Darcy had been to many balls, and been introduced to many English women, many of whom had been at least as winsome as this Miss Bennet. She didn’t stand out or anything. There was nothing significant about her.

  That wasn’t the reason he hadn’t killed her.

  But perhaps it was uncomfortable to kill someone that he knew, that he had been introduced to in England. As improper and wicked as he was, perhaps that was a line he didn’t want to cross.

  And what he had said to Mackie was true. He wasn’t in the habit of murdering lovely young ladies. He preferred not to kill anyone at all, in fact. He was a pirate, but he liked to get his loot by trickery and conniving rather than by violence. He could kill when he needed to, and he did. He wasn’t squeamish or anything. He just didn’t… well, he didn’t enjoy killing, and it was a messy and tiring sort of business, so if he could avoid it, he would.

  In this case, it hadn’t been avoidable, but in the case of Miss Bennet…

  Oh, dash it all, it made no sense. She knew who he was. If she got back to England somehow, she’d probably spread it all over, telling everyone how he’d become a bloodthirsty pirate. He really should kill her just to shut her up.

  “Why’d you bring me here then?” said Mackie.

  “Only because I want you to keep an eye on her,” said Darcy. “All the men know that there’s a woman on board, and I can say she’s under my protection until I’m blue in the face, but that doesn’t mean they’ll keep away. And I can’t watch her every second.”

  “You didn’t kill that girl because you want her for yourself. That’s it, ain’t it, Cap’n? You’ve got a fancy for her. She is a fine lady, she is, very proper and pretty and delicate-like.”

  “I don’t want her,” said Darcy, but his voice was gruff. And it had been a long time since… Well, that was true for all the men. A life at sea was not a life of gentility. Women didn’t belong here, and—

  Well, he liked to think that he was different than other men. Men like Wickham, for instance.

  Mr. Darcy did not bed innocent virgins.

  Oh, damnation. Why had she brought up that name? Darcy thought of all of it far more often than he’d like, but he had gone a long, long stretch without any thought of Wickham or of Georgiana. And yet, now, the pain was still so fresh that he could hardly bear it, even after all these years.

  He swallowed hard.

  “Well, if you don’t want her for yourself I don’t see why you care so much about her,” said Mackie. “Why not just throw her to the men for a bit of sport?”

  “You and I both know that would turn out badly,” he said. “It would only cause strife amongst the men. There are too many of them and not enough of her. Besides… that would be awful for her.”

  Mackie furrowed his brow. “So, you don’t want anything to happen to this one, then, Cap’n? She did seem to know you. Is she from this mysterious past of yours you won’t talk about?”

  “Let’s leave this conversation, Mackie.” Darcy turned on the man and fixed him with a stern look.

  “As you wish,” said Mackie, but Darcy thought he detected a little smirk.

  She was from his past, but Darcy couldn’t for the life of him figure out how she’d ended up here. It didn’t make any sense. What was a girl like Miss Bennet doing out at sea near India? Even blown off course by a storm, it was a strange place for a young woman to be.

  “That’ll be all, then, Mackie,” said Darcy. “Make sure the men keep clear of her. And keep clear of her yourself, you understand?”

  “Sure thing, Cap’n,” said Mackie, and he went off out of the cabin.

  What the hell was she doing here? And how badly was she going to ruin his life?

  He rubbed his temples. If he had any sense, he would just kill her.

  * * *

  “Well, sit down,” Darcy was saying. He gestured to a seat at the table in his cabin, looking at Elizabeth expectantly.

  Elizabeth didn’t want to do anything that he told her to, just on principle. She thought that perhaps if she defied him, it would somehow send him a message that she wasn’t to be trifled with. Perhaps being difficult made her feel better, made her feel as if she wasn’t a prisoner on a pirate ship who might be killed at any moment. So, she simply stood there.

  Darcy glared at her. “You want to starve to death?”

  The food arrayed on the table did look good. It wasn’t anything like what she’d eat on land, but for ship’s food, it was a fairly decent spread. He’d plundered the live chickens on the ship she’d been traveling on and had one of them killed and cooked. There were tinned green beans and some kind of pudding. And she was hungry. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the day before, and her stomach rumbled. Even so, she lifted her chin.

  Darcy shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He sat down himself and began to pick up platters and load his plate with food.

  Elizabeth bit down on her lip. And then, hating herself for it, she sat down too.

  “Come to your senses, I see?” said Darcy, passing her a platter of chicken. “You’ll have to serve yourself, madam. There are no servants here, as you can see. Still, I’ve taken pains to make you feel a bit more comfortable. I don’t eat this way every day.”

  She dipped food onto her plate, heaping piles of it. She didn’t say anything.

  “And still you don’t thank me,” Darcy said in a low voice. “Miss Bennet, I’m beginning to think you are an ungrateful wretch.”

  Her head snapped up. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Darcy, for killing everyone on board the ship that was to take me home and for bringing me on board a pirate ship and keeping me in a dark hole that stinks of onions. I’m ever so pleased about it.”

  He pointed at her with his fork. “I told you to call me Captain, did I not?”

  She clenched her jaw.

  He smiled. “And I hardly need to remind you how much worse it could be, do I? Or perhaps I should just kill you right now. You’re quite an inconvenience when all is said and done.”

  She shivered. And then the defiance gripped her again. “Is this how it’s going to be?” she said in an even voice. “Any time I do anything that annoys you, you’ll threaten my life?”

  Darcy raised his eyebrows, and then he laughed. “You’ve got a bit of fire to you, don’t you, Miss Bennet? I confess I did not get that impression of you back in England.”

  “Well, that was a long time ago, sir. I’m not the young and starry-eyed girl I was then.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “Which brings me to my question. Why are you here? Why aren’t you safe at home married to some gentleman, popping out children?”

  It stung to be asked. It shouldn’t, but it did, because she felt like a failure. She deliberately took a bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed before answering. “Well, I was unlucky and didn’t find a husband, so I came to India, hoping that one of the men who had come here from England might marry me, but…” She grimaced. “I was unlucky in that as well. And it seems that my luck has become altogether abominable, since I’ve been captured by you.” She raised her gaze to gauge his reaction. If he looked at her with
pity, it would gall her. She didn’t want anything from this man. He might have spared her life, but that didn’t mean he was kind.

  But he barely looked up. “Yes, I’m sorry about that, but I’m sure that as soon as you get back to England, you can set about righting all that. You’ll find a husband next Season, to be sure.”

  She set down her silverware. She was shocked. Didn’t he realize how far she had lowered herself, how she had scraped, desperate for a match? Apparently, he didn’t.

  He glanced at her. “Something wrong with the food?”

  She picked up her fork and began eating again.

  “A pretty girl like you should have no problem finding a husband,” he said.

  She wanted to pick up her plate and hurl it at him. “You think I’m pretty?” she said icily. “Well, you are the only man in England to think so, if six years of waiting for an offer is any indication. And I don’t suppose it’s saying much if I’ve captured your attentions.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Because I’ve become a pirate who kills people?”

  “Well, that, and because of your behavior in England before you disappeared,” she said. “Drinking and gambling away your fortune. I understand that you were grieving your sister—”

  Darcy choked on his food.

  She set down her fork. “Listen, I am no stranger to grief. My father was very dear to me, and when he died, I was quite despondent, and I know that you have lost your parents as well, so losing your sister must have—”

  “Don’t ever mention my sister, if you please, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy tightly.

  * * *

  Darcy was seething. The woman had been on his ship for less than a day, and she had already reopened all his old wounds. As if she could possibly understand that Georgiana’s loss wasn’t painful only because of grief, but because of guilt.