Unforgiving Temper (63 page)

Darcy's torrent of questions was lost in
Lydia's hysterical sobs. “He was going to kill us…I am so sorry! I
did not want to leave her there alone! Lizzy made me go!”

Shaking her again, Darcy peered into the
anguished face. “Madam, calm yourself! Where…is…Elizabeth?”

Lydia sniffed loudly and shuddered, staring
at Darcy as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, Mr. Darcy –
you are here? But where is my father?! She needs Papá!” Fresh tears
bubbled up with more frantic sobs. “He is going to kill her! He is
going to throw her off the mount!”

Ignoring the gaping hole Lydia's report had
ripped through his gut, Darcy forced himself to focus. “You must
tell me – where are they?”

Lydia waved her hand distractedly in the
direction she had come. “There…on the road…but they will not be
there. He has a carriage. She is lost and it is all my fault!”

“Listen to me,” Darcy commanded as evenly as
he could. “You can help Elizabeth by getting to Longbourn with all
possible speed. Tell your father and Mr. Bingley to come at
once. Do you understand? With all possible speed!”

Wiping the tears with the back of her hand,
Lydia nodded briskly, at last appearing to be coherent. “Oh, yes,
Mr. Darcy, I will hurry! I promised Lizzy. I will bring them
at once!”

In the next instant, Darcy was astride his
horse, giving a quick look behind him to confirm the girl was
indeed on her way.

He urged the horse forward, silently cursing
the narrow, unfamiliar path that slowed his progress. Just as he
was beginning to think Lydia had misdirected him in her agitated
state, he came to the road. Free of the trees, the horse pranced
impatiently as Darcy's eyes swept in both directions.

To the right, the road lay empty. To the
left, he saw a carriage standing at a distance and beyond it,
Wickham and Elizabeth making their way along the edge of the road.
He began to calculate how long it would take the rest of the party
from Longbourn to arrive. In the next instant, all other thoughts
were obliterated from Darcy's mind as he saw Wickham stop abruptly
and lash out at Elizabeth, striking her viciously. A roar of wild
fury ripped from Darcy's throat drawing Wickham's head up in alarm.
Wickham scrutinized the horse and rider bearing down on him and
then bolted for the carriage, dragging Elizabeth behind him.

* * * *

Elizabeth could barely keep her feet under
her as Wickham threw her into the carriage with a vicious jerk that
nearly dislocated her arm and shouted a menacing command to be
silent. Ann Younge scrambled in after her, and took hold of her
arm. Wickham hurriedly climbed into the driver's seat, his foot
nearly missing the step in his haste.

“Hang on! Darcy is coming.”

“Darcy?!” Ann cried.

Without looking back, Wickham quickly
gathered the reins and wound them through his fingers. “Yes, I
should have known he would try to cheat me again. Hold on, we shall
have to make a mad dash of it.”

Elizabeth looked up to see a single horse and
rider bearing down from behind. Was it really him? It was! An
overwhelming flood of love and relief filled her heart and blurred
her vision. He had come! Anxiously she searched the road behind
him. Was he alone? Where were the others? It was far too dangerous
for one man!

With a loud “Ha!” Wickham slapped the reins,
startling the horses forward in a sudden lurch which sent the
ladies toppling onto the rear cushions.

Ann Younge let go of Elizabeth with a shriek.
“George, what are you doing?!”

“Hang on – and don't let her get away,” he
yelled in response as his hand fumbled in his coat pocket.
Elizabeth watched in horror as he retrieved a flintlock pistol.

“No!” she screamed, her panicked cry lost in
the clattering of the carriage.

Scrambling onto the back seat, she could see
Darcy closing in. She was opening her mouth to warn him of the gun
when Ann Younge's hand came down over her face, pulling her back
down in an attempt to regain her hold. Blocking Younge's hands with
her arms, Elizabeth twisted away, then pushed the woman back to the
other seat. Mrs. Younge leapt at Elizabeth again, this time
succeeding in capturing one arm and clutched it tenaciously.

The pair of horses pulling the landau raced
down the lane with increasing speed, causing the aging coach to
veer dangerously. After several tries to extricate herself from
Younge's unyielding grasp, Elizabeth finally fisted her free hand
and swung with all her might, connecting fist to face with a force
that brought a painful cry from both women. Mrs. Younge let go
and fell back against the seat in a stunned daze. Elizabeth looked
back to warn Darcy, but he was not there! She saw him then, at the
front of the carriage, reaching for the horses. A movement from
Wickham caught her attention and she stared in horror as he leveled
the pistol at Darcy.

Darcy could see Elizabeth trying to tell him
something, but the pounding hooves and rattling carriage drowned
out her words and then Mrs. Younge pulled her down. He had to
stop the carriage! Urging his mount forward, he closed in on the
team of horses pulling the carriage. When he was even with the
mismatched pair, Darcy leaned out, reaching for the traces in an
attempt to draw them down.

Taking a quick glance at Wickham, his hand
instantly froze. He could not hear the sound, but he could see
Wickham laughing wildly, a pistol in his hand and a gleeful
expression playing on his face. Above the clatter, he heard a
horrified shriek. A distant part of his mind told him it was
Elizabeth, the woman he loved and would never have the chance to
marry – and instead of saving her, he would die right before her
eyes.

There was no time to dodge and no chance of
escape at such close range. Darcy watched helplessly as Wickham
took aim at his chest, his eyes wild and gloating. Suddenly, he saw
Wickham pitch forward as the gun fired, sending a puff of smoke
into the air, and Elizabeth was there pulling at Wickham's arm! In
the same instant, the bullet slammed into his shoulder, nearly
knocking him from his horse.

His hand slid through the horse's mane and he
frantically clutched at the coarse strands, barely managing to
catch himself. Straining against the pounding gait that threatened
to loosen his grip, he gritted his teeth against the searing pain
in his shoulder and pulled himself back into the saddle. One quick
downward glance revealed a dark, wet stain spreading across his
shoulder from beneath the ragged hole in his coat. If not for
Elizabeth's intervention, he had no doubt it would have been his
heart.

Darcy looked back just in time to see Wickham
deliver a powerful blow to Elizabeth with his fist sending her
tumbling backwards into the carriage. Outraged and helpless, he
watched her disappear from sight.

Even more desperate now to save Elizabeth,
Darcy reached again for the traces and then had to pull back,
ducking just as Wickham furiously hurled the discharged pistol at
him across the panicked horses. When Darcy reached a third time,
Wickham attacked with the carriage whip in a frenzied passion that
verged on madness. Responding to the crack of the whip, the horses
pushed harder, dashing forward at a furious pace. Wickham's lash
fell again and again, cutting lines across Darcy's back and arm,
and opening a small cut above his eye before he managed to catch
the whip and halt Wickham's assault.

He jerked on the whip, trying to disarm
Wickham, to no avail. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he moved
ahead, yanking fiercely and pulling Wickham forward off his seat.
Another wrenching tug pulled Wickham off balance against the
footboard and he was forced to let go of the whip in order to catch
himself.

Wickham started to regain his seat on the
bench, giving Darcy a triumphant, sneering look, just as the
forward wheel of the carriage struck a rut in the lane, pitching
the carriage violently and throwing him forward with such force he
had no chance to stop his fall. Clawing viciously at the footboard
as he slid down its front, Wickham's legs were caught by the
flaying hooves, and he was pulled under. A wild, feral scream rose
above the thundering hooves as he disappeared beneath the carriage.
Three heavy thumps sounded under the coach before it sped on with
increasing speed.

* * * *

Shaking her head to ease the ringing in her
ears and throbbing in her cheek, Elizabeth struggled to pick
herself up from the floor of the careening carriage where she had
landed. The last thing she had seen was a puff of smoke rising from
the gun in Wickham's hand and Darcy reeling from the impact of the
bullet. Panicked at the thought of what had happened, she was
scrambling forward when several loud thumps sounded beneath her
feet. Frantically, she looked to Darcy's horse and gasped in relief
when she saw that he was still there.

Ann Younge screamed and Elizabeth turned back
to see the woman gaping in stunned disbelief at the sight of a
bloodied and broken heap on the road behind them. Wickham was gone!
With no driver, the horses now had their head and were running
wildly down the road. Determined to save herself, Elizabeth moved
quickly. She had to try to stop them before they overturned the
carriage!

She worked her way forward again, picking
herself up each time she was thrown back down by violent lurches.
Finally getting onto the forward seat of the carriage, she pulled
herself up behind the driver's bench. Holding tight with one hand
and ignoring Darcy's horrified expression, she leaned over,
stretching precariously across the very place Wickham had been
sitting moments before, refusing to think of the gruesome
consequences should she fail in her attempt. She reached her free
hand toward the driverless traces, but they lay just beyond her
reach. Shifting her weight, she stretched further, grazing the
leather traces with her fingertips. Another violent lurch of the
carriage forced her to grab the seat iron surrounding the bench
with both hands to keep from falling and before she could try
again, another bounce freed the reins from the footboard, sending
them sliding to the road below and leaving the frenzied horses to
run with no way to check them.

Looking around for another means of bringing
the equipage to a halt, Elizabeth quickly dismissed any possibility
of help from Mrs. Younge who now sat in a bewildered stupor,
seemingly oblivious to anything. Turning to Darcy, she found him
next to the carriage, working to match his horse with its
increasingly riotous pace. Motioning to the coachman's bench, she
shouted to make herself heard above the deafening sounds of
galloping horses and rattling carriage.

“The reins – I cannot reach them! Can
you?”

“No, they are gone under!” Darcy's booming
voice came in reply. “The horses have their head now – there is no
stopping them.” His eyes measured the unsteady carriage
apprehensively. “You must get off now! The carriage is going too
fast to make the next turn!”

Elizabeth looked anxiously at the sharp turn
that was rapidly approaching.

“I cannot jump. It is going too fast!” she
called over the rumble of the wheels.

“Can you get yourself to the side?”

“Yes, I think so.” Holding tightly to the
driver's bench and fighting the sway of the carriage, Elizabeth
inched her way to the edge of the seat, barely managing to stay
upright.

Darcy guided his galloping horse next to the
carriage and Elizabeth reached for his outstretched hand. A surge
of elation flooded her heart as she felt his fingers close around
hers. She leaned toward him, ready to be caught up in his arms, a
trusting, fearless faith burning in her eyes.

In the next instant, she cried out in terror.
Mrs. Younge had leapt from her seat, roughly grabbing
Elizabeth's ankle. “Oh, no you don't! You're not leaving me to die
alone!” she shrieked, her eyes wild with desperation and fury.

Elizabeth's hand was nearly torn from Darcy's
grip and he tightened his hold. Panic enveloped her as she
stretched precariously between Darcy and Mrs. Younge's
tenacious hold.

“Release her, Mrs. Younge,” Darcy
bellowed vehemently.

He leaned into his saddle, gripping the horse
with his legs alone and twisted around to grab Elizabeth's hand
more firmly with both of his.

“Not a chance!” Ann screamed back, tightening
her hold. “You killed George! An eye for an eye, Darcy!”

“Then I shall be happy to repay
my
debt!” Elizabeth exclaimed furiously as she lashed out with her
other foot, delivering a powerful kick that landed squarely in
Mrs. Younge's face. With a strangled cry Ann fell backwards
against the cushions, Elizabeth's muddy slipper clutched in her
hands. Instantly, Darcy pulled hard, bringing Elizabeth across the
breach and safely onto his lap.

His arms securely around her, Elizabeth could
not stop trembling as Darcy brought the horse to a halt.

“Are you all right?” he whispered softly.

“Yes,” she murmured, reveling in the feeling
of his nearness as she clung tightly to his neck. “I am now.”

She felt him draw a deep breath before
loosening his hold on her. “I must help Mrs. Younge if she
will let me. Will you be all right?”

Elizabeth looked at the driverless carriage
careening toward the turn at full speed, Mrs. Younge clinging
to the side with her bloodied face twisted in mute horror. Before
Darcy could move to lift her down, Elizabeth gasped, “Oh, no! It is
too late!”

He followed her gaze and they both watched as
the carriage reached the turn at full speed. It veered dangerously,
teetering on two wheels as it disappeared from sight. For a brief
moment the air was filled with an eerie silence, followed
immediately by Mrs. Younge's piercing scream and then a loud
splintering crash. Darcy spurred the horse forward.