Pirates and Prejudice
Read Pirates and Prejudice Online
Authors: Kara Louise
Pirates
and
Prejudice
by
KARA LOUISE
Copyright © 2013 Kara
Louise
All
rights reserved.
Cover Image by
Dreamstime.com
Cover Design by Kara Louise
Published by
Heartworks Publication
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means -- for example, mechanical, digital,
photocopy, recording -- without the prior written permission of the publisher.
An exception would be in brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kara Louise
Pirates and Prejudice
A note from
the author to my readers -
You may
be reading this book because you love Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
.
If that is the case, you love the characters as much as I do, and I hope you
will enjoy this variation that takes Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy on quite an
adventure.
If you
are reading this book because you enjoy pirate stories,vmy hope is that you
will be intrigued enough with the reference to
Pride and Prejudice
that
if you haven’t read it, you will want to.
This
story begins after some important events have taken place in Miss Austen’s
novel, and refers to them in backstory. While you can read this book without
reading her novel, I think your enjoyment will increase having done so.
I have
several people I wish to thank who were a great help in getting this book
written and into your hands. Thanks to Mary Anne Hinz and Gayle Mills for their
copy edits, Jakki Leatherberry for her story edits, and to my sisters, Donna
Natale and Cheryl Wallace, for their suggestions, support, and encouragement.
I also
wish to thank Jane Austen for her original inspiration of the characters and storyline.
Little did she know how deeply all her novels would touch people two centuries
later.
I hope you enjoy
Pirates and Prejudice.
London
A harsh, accusing voice inside Fitzwilliam Darcy’s head
uttered the words he had heard repeatedly the past few months, words that
tormented and haunted him.
“
You are the
last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!”
The words came
unexpectedly and seemingly without reason. Each time he heard them, he futilely
tried to ignore them or push them away. Unfortunately, they sounded as loud and
clear as the first time Elizabeth Bennet indignantly expressed her decided
estimation of his person.
Darcy shook his
head, wishing to free it of the assaulting voice. In a gruff whisper he said,
as much to himself as to the voice, “I have had enough of this!”
He drew in a
deep breath as he attempted to clear his mind, but he was in too great a stupor
for it to make a difference. He covered his ears with his hands as if
that would prevent him from hearing those hurtful words. He desperately wanted
the voice to go away, and he wished for some inner strength – inner resolve –
to shake off this feeling of utter despondency. He could not believe the extent
to which he had allowed himself to be tormented and to fall into such a
reprehensible state.
Each time he
recollected the words Miss Bennet had lashed out at him, he felt a dagger
pierce his heart. “Pull yourself together, man!” he muttered to himself. He
felt trapped in a quagmire of self-pity and regret, from which it seemed
impossible to extricate himself. His heart ached at both the memory of
her and the despondency she had brought upon him.
Darcy walked
along a bumpy cobblestone road in London, not far from the docks on the River
Thames. He hoped no one would recognize him in this less than desirable part of
town. The possibility always existed, however, of encountering someone who
might begin spreading rumours about his appalling state.
A couple of street
urchins skipped past him, not bothering to inquire after money. They barely
glanced at him, as if they thought he was as destitute as they were. He
was
destitute in the depths of him. He had never, in the course of his eight and
twenty years, allowed himself to become so negligent in his person, unbridled
in discipline, nor tormented in his heart and mind.
He inclined his
head at the sound of footsteps behind him, but could only discern two men who
had stopped to talk beneath the low-hanging branches of a nearby tree. He
narrowed his eyes at them, thinking for some reason they seemed out of place,
but he found it difficult to see them clearly enough to determine why he felt
that way.
He looked down
and absently kicked a loose stone that lay in his path, sending it spiralling
into the shrubbery.
Darcy had come
to London hoping to hide in the dark, crowded streets. He allowed his valet to
take time off to visit his family and told him that he would notify him when he
was again needed.
When he first
arrived in London, the persistent cold and rain seemed to echo his disposition.
When the sun finally began shining a week ago, however, it did nothing to
brighten his mood.
Darcy let a
small room near the docks owned by an elderly gentleman. The innkeeper was
grateful that his new renter, although keeping much to himself, did not seem
like one to cause problems and was always prompt with his payment.
Initially Darcy
had reasoned that the noise and constant activity in London would obscure his
tormented thoughts. But it had done little to alleviate the real pain he felt
in his heart.
Normally when in
London, he attended lavish parties and balls, went to the theatre or a concert,
and met with family and friends. As he walked the darkened street, he realized
how much he had wished – had even anticipated – doing all those things
accompanied by Elizabeth Bennet.
His hand went up
and rubbed his stubbly chin. He had not shaved nor trimmed his hair in close to
two months. He could now walk the streets of London in an unrecognizable state.
No one would suspect that he was the ever-fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy. He
seemed very much unlike the man on the inside, as well.
He dropped his
head, and the layers of his greatcoat flapped in the breeze as he walked nearer
to the docks. The odour of fish and garbage pervaded the air, and his stomach
writhed as the pungent smell assaulted his senses. He grasped a nearby railing
that looked over the murky waters to steady himself.
Footsteps behind
him quickened. He twisted his head and noticed a somewhat fashionable couple
walk towards him. He ducked his head so there would be no chance that they
would recognize him, but not before seeing a look of disgust and revulsion
etched on their faces at his despicable state. The gentleman ushered the woman
away, muttering something indiscernible as he did.
Relief washed
over Darcy that they did not seem to recognize him, but any gratefulness he
felt was soon overpowered by the feeling of shame that infused him. He swayed, and
his knees threatened to buckle. He felt as though he had little or no strength
left.
He grasped the
railing more forcibly as he felt himself begin to collapse onto the ground. He had
a fleeting thought that it would be best for him to jump into the river and end
it all. He was calculating just how many steps he would have to take to reach
the edge of the dock, when he heard another voice inside of him. This time,
however, it was louder than normal.
Get a grip, man!
You know who you are!
Darcy raked his
fingers through his long, unkempt hair, letting out a groan. Looking up to the
heavens, as if the voice came from the Almighty Himself, Darcy uttered a soft,
“Help me.”
He began to feel
dizzy, and his body trembled.
He heard
approaching footsteps again, more strident than the others. He lowered his head
down onto his hands, waiting for them to pass. Before he could formulate
another thought, he felt himself being grabbed forcefully about his arms. His
jerked his head from side to side, glancing up for a moment as he yelled in
protest. It was the two men he had seen earlier lurking nearby.
As he was pulled
to his feet, he struggled to free himself saying, “I have little money, but
take want you want and leave me be!”
Their grip
tightened, and they shoved him up against the railing. Darcy’s heart thundered
in his chest as the wooden beam jabbed into his stomach. Fear rose in him that
the men were going to throw him into the water. He thought it odd that just
moments before he was pondering jumping in himself, and now everything inside
fought against it.
Darcy’s hands
were suddenly pulled back behind him, and he felt something cold encircle his
wrists. Handcuffs! “What are you doing?” he mumbled. “I demand to know what is
going on!”
“Yer time is up,
Lockerly! Ye won’t be makin’ an escape this time!” one of the men said.
“Ye will likely
be hangin’ before the week is out!” the other said with a sneer.
Darcy shook his
head and tried to make sense of their words. He struggled one more time to free
himself from their grasp and the cruel bite of the handcuffs, but was unable.
Although nothing had sobered him up in the past month, this had quickly done
it. But he was still at a loss to understand what was happening.
He skewed his
head to look up at the man on his left. “What do you mean? Who are you talking
about? Who is this Lockerly?”
The man let out
a gruff laugh. “He is someone who don’t have much time left in this world. Now
start walkin’ and don’t you be trying to git away again, or we’ll shoot you, we
will! The reward for ye is dead
or
alive!”
“But
more
if ye is alive!” The other man laughed viciously.
As Darcy
staggered slowly, he felt a harsh push from behind. It was all he could do to
keep from stumbling. As his feet reluctantly obeyed, his mind struggled to
comprehend. The name Lockerly sounded familiar, but he could not recollect why.
The two men
shoved him along impatiently, talking between themselves about the reward they
would receive and how fortunate they were to have caught him. They occasionally
gave him a sharp jab or roughly tugged his arm, ignoring any protest Darcy was
able to mutter. He could not believe anyone would be treated in such a manner
and began to wonder what they intended to do with him.
He wriggled his
hands, trying to free himself from the cuffs, but that only served to bring
about more pain, as the metal rings gripped his wrists without mercy.
“Where are you
taking me?” Darcy asked, his voice and head a little clearer. “I demand to know
who you are and why you are treating me in such a contemptible manner!”
The two men
laughed. One said, “I think Lockerly has been trying to pass himself off as a
gentleman, with that smooth, polished voice.” He laughed again. “Too bad he
don’t
look
the part of a gentleman!”
Darcy winced. In
refusing his offer of marriage, Miss Bennet had accused him of acting in a most
ungentleman-like manner. He had always thought he displayed nothing but the
opposite.
At another harsh
push, Darcy steeled himself. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy! You have no right to
treat me thusly. I demand to know where you are taking me and why!”
Both men laughed
again as if it were a joke. “You are Fitzwilliam Darcy?” asked one. “Well,
beggin’ your pardon, but
I
am the Prince Regent!”
They turned down
a dark alley, and Darcy could not be sure that his feet would cooperate much
longer. He was being dragged along and had no means by which to steady himself
since his hands were bound behind him. At one point, he faltered, and then
stumbled to the ground. Turning his face just in time, the side of his head
crashed into the dirt.
Instead of
asking whether he was hurt, the two men laughed again and jerked him up. Darcy
felt warm liquid streaming down his neck. He knew he was bleeding from
somewhere near his ear.
“You have no
right to be doing this!” he cried out to them. “I demand some respect and to be
taken immediately to the authorities!”
“Take you to the
authorities?” the taller of the two men asked. “Now
that
we can do! As a
matter of fact, we is takin’ ye to the Thames Police Headquarters!”
They began to
walk faster, and Darcy realized that they were indeed headed there. His
body noticeably relaxed, and he found it much easier to walk when he was not
fighting the two men. He took in a deep breath and hoped this misunderstanding
might be cleared up shortly.
They came to the
large brick building, the men holding onto him in a firm grip.
“We got ’em!”
one of the men hollered. “We got Lockerly!”
“I am not this Lockerly!”
Darcy repeated as he attempted to recollect who Lockerly was and why they
thought it was him.
Several men
rushed out. Darcy found himself in the grip of two more men. “Bring him in at
once!” one of the men demanded.
Darcy was
forcibly brought inside, and another man rushed past them. He heard the sound
of keys and a metal door being opened. He was then thrown inside, and he
crumpled to the ground. One of the men came in and removed the handcuffs from
his wrists. He slowly lifted his head as the door was closed and locked.
He realized
immediately that he had been put inside a cell.
Perhaps it is merely my
drunken state that has me here,
he thought.
I shall sleep it off and be
released in the morning.
The men remained
outside the door speaking in low voices to each other. Darcy heard a little.
“It is him; I am
sure! Look at this drawing!”
“He had much
longer hair and beard,” said another.
“Probably had it
cut and shaved to disguise himself,” another suggested.
“Just think!”
one man shouted. “We have recaptured Lockerly, the pirate! He won’t escape this
time, and he’ll soon suffer the same fate as all his shipmates!”
Suddenly all the
men laughed. “Looks like we’ll be having another hanging soon!”
Darcy suddenly realized
why he had recognized the name. Lockerly had been captured a while back, along
with his band of pirates, but somehow he alone had escaped. All the men had
been found guilty of piracy and hung. He shuddered as he thought that they had
mistaken him for this evil man.
He determined
that he was not in a state to argue with these men and decided he would wait
until morning when he had a clear head. He glanced about at his primitive
surroundings and saw a block slab upon which a blanket and pillow rested. He
pulled himself up onto it and lay down, finding it cold and hard. He closed his
eyes, not bothering to unfold the blanket.
