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(From Part 1: The First
Day:)
Elizabeth, frightened and exhausted,
crouched at the base of a tree, trying to recover her strength and
sense of direction. She knew she could not remain where she was, for
to stop moving in this cold was to perish. From time to time she
called out for assistance. Certainly her presence was missed. There
could be men looking for her. All she had to do was remain strong
and she would be saved.
But as the minutes dragged on, helplessness
overcame her courage. She was just one young lady in a strange town
used to travelers coming through. Why would she be missed? No one
knew her; no one would notice her absence—at least until her uncle’s
man arrived from London. If he could reach Bromley—if the weather
did not force him to turn back.
Is there to be no deliverance?
she wondered.
Is
this where I am to die?
Something pierced her despair. A faint sound
floating over the howling winds.
“…iss …enn…”
It was a voice! “Here!” she shouted. “Here I
am! Help!” The sound was growing stronger! Elizabeth staggered to
her feet and screamed with all her strength, “Over here! Over here!”
“Miss
Bennet!… I am coming… Miss Bennet!”
The deep, masculine voice was angel’s music
to Elizabeth’s ears. “Oh, please, please hurry!” The seconds dragged
by. Elizabeth shivered, as much from anticipation of rescue as the
cold. Oh, thank God, thank
God! The words ran like a chant through her mind. She gave
thanksgivings to her Lord, vowing that she would use this second
chance to be a better person, to treat all with kindness,
forbearance, and patience, and never make sport of any person ever
again!
Elizabeth was nearly blinded by the
blizzard. Then, there—a figure was making its way between the trees
towards her! A man—a man in coat and top hat! “I am over here, good
sir!”
“I will be there…in a moment…Miss Bennet!”
Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped. She
recognized that voice! No! It
cannot be! It cannot be him!
Ten seconds later she was face-to-face with
Fitzwilliam Darcy, and her knees had turned to pudding.
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