Unforgiving Temper (64 page)

As they approached the devastating scene,
they could hear low, muffled groans coming from somewhere near the
wreckage. It did not take long to find Ann Younge sprawled in the
shallow ditch that lined the road, her right leg bent at an
unnatural angle. Covered in mud, she had a large scrape on her
forehead and the cut on her lip she had received from Elizabeth's
kick was bleeding freely. The sleeve of her coat was shredded,
revealing a long, ragged scrape the length of her arm. Elizabeth
was amazed the woman was still alive. Darcy swung down to assess
her injuries.

“Don't touch me!” Ann spat viciously, holding
a cut and swollen hand out against him. “I don't want your bloody
help!”

Darcy stepped back. “Very well then. We shall
send someone back for you.”

“Perhaps I should stay with her,” Elizabeth
whispered when he returned to the horse. “She does not look well at
all.”

“Absolutely not! The woman tried to kill you
not three minutes ago.”

“Yes, I know; but look at her. She can barely
move.”

“Nevertheless, it is out of the question. I
do not trust her for one minute. After this latest scheme with
Wickham, she is destined for Newgate and will be desperate to save
herself. It would not be safe for you to be alone with her in any
condition.”

“Very well, if you must be so stubborn, then
let us hurry. She is in a great deal of pain.”

Darcy mounted, settling Elizabeth on his lap
once more. As he put his arms around her, she turned to look into
his face.

“Should we check on Mr. Wickham as well
before we go? Mr. Jones may need additional supplies.”

Darcy thought of the mangled, motionless body
slumped in the road around the bend and quietly replied, “There is
no need. Wickham fell directly beneath the wheels and will not be
needing a doctor – now or ever again.”

Hearing Darcy's pronouncement, Ann Younge
burst into tears. “You couldn't stand to see us happy, could you?!
All he ever wanted was a chance to make something of himself and
you hated him for that! Your bloody pride was more important.”

“As soon as Miss Bennet is taken care
of, I shall send someone back for you,” Darcy announced as he
turned away.

He ignored the bitter curses that followed
him until he was well around the next bend in the road and thought
of Wickham. He could not pretend to grieve for the man who had
caused so much pain in his life, but he would be sad for a wasted
life; one that could have been more worthwhile had his childhood
companion chosen to do more than squander it in the pursuit of idle
pleasures. If Mrs. Younge had indeed loved Wickham, it had not
been enough to alter the man.

He took a deep cleansing breath and tightened
his arms around Elizabeth, allowing himself a slight smile when she
leaned back against him in response. She was safe.

For a while, they rode in silence, neither
willing to break the enchanted spell that enveloped them. At length
Darcy peered down at Elizabeth, wincing at the angry scratches and
her torn and muddy clothing. With her slipper now gone, he could
see her injured foot as well and he stifled an angry growl, wishing
he could take away the cruelty she had once more suffered for his
sake. He raised a hand, lightly tracing the large purple mark that
was rising on her cheek where Wickham had struck her.

“It will heal,” was her only response.

“I should have known,” he lamented. “I should
have done more to protect you from the start.”

“You are too severe on yourself, sir. It was
I who trusted the girl and followed her.”

Darcy looked down. “Yes, but it was only
because you thought I sent her.”

She straightened in his arms and looked at
him. “I will not allow you to take any blame in this.”

“You are a stubborn woman,” he chided,
shaking his head at the fierce determination in her upturned face.
His look dropped briefly to her lips, then rose to search the
depths of her eyes. “Elizabeth – ?”

She returned his gaze with a wide,
unwaveringly look of her own, giving him the answer to his unspoken
question. Bending slowly, he brushed her lips with his own. Her
quick intake of breath fed his desire and he kissed her again,
tightening his arms around her and bringing a painful reminder of
his injured shoulder. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold, pleased at
the delightfully self-conscious glow the kiss had generated in
Elizabeth.

They continued on without speaking until
Darcy realized with growing alarm that Elizabeth's silence was
laden with tears.

“Are you in pain? Shall I slow the pace?” He
shifted in the saddle, loosening his hold a little. “Shall I walk
and give you more room?”

“No, no – I am in much less pain than you, I
imagine,” she said, wiping at her tears and cautiously drawing his
arm back to her. “I was just thinking of Mr. Wickham. I have
never seen anyone injured so horribly and this whole dreadful
affair will ruin Jane's beautiful wedding day. It is all so awful.
Why could I not have prevented it?!”

“You could not have done anything to prevent
Wickham from doing what he did. He specifically chose this day on
purpose. At least he can do no more harm – to anyone.”

“Yes, that is true, but unfortunately for
Jane, he has given our neighbors one last scandal to gossip about.”
She sighed thoughtfully. “There will be many details to attend to
regarding this matter; and of course, it will prevent your calling
tomorrow morning.”

“I beg to differ, my dear Miss Bennet. I
have every intention of keeping our appointment.”

“As much as I would like it, you cannot! I
think we must wait awhile. This scandal will not be concealed and
it will take some time for it to be forgot.”

“I shall come nevertheless. You cannot keep
me away. Wickham kept us apart far too long when he was alive and I
will not allow him to continue doing so in death! I beg you will
not make me wait any longer.” With a sudden thought, he whispered
in her ear once again. “If need be, I shall apply to your mother. I
am certain I will find vast encouragement from that quarter.”

“Sir! I beg you do not!” Elizabeth cried in
genuine alarm.

“Then look for me first thing in the morning.
You have promised me an interview, and no power short of heaven
itself will prevent me from posing the question I have long desired
to ask you.”

Elizabeth drew a shuddering breath and leaned
back against him once more. “Very well. I see that you cannot be
persuaded otherwise.”

“I am happy to see you are not so stubborn in
all
things,” Darcy smiled, lifting her chin and kissing her
gently. “And come to think of it, you really should be more
concerned about what Caroline Bingley may say rather than any of
your neighborhood scandal-mongers.”

He enjoyed the little furrow his words put in
her brow as she turned to him. “Why Caroline Bingley?”

“Because, my dear, you should have heard her
complain about your petticoats last year, after you had walked to
Netherfield! If she sees you like THIS…well, do you really want to
give her the satisfaction?”

“I see your point, sir,” Elizabeth brightened
a little. “I suppose I shall have to sneak in the back way. If you
insist on attaching yourself to me, then I shall do my best not to
disgrace you – especially in front of Caroline Bingley!”

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes?” She looked up at him with such a
mischievous look that he could not resist the sudden urge to kiss
her once more. She willingly returned the kiss, only to pull back
at the sound of approaching riders.

“Darcy! Miss Bennet!” Bingley reined in
his horse when he recognized the pair. The six men with him stopped
as well, and he turned to the man beside him. “Kensington, would
you be so good as to find Mr. Bennet and his party and let
them know we have found Miss Bennet?”

Turning his attention back to Darcy and
Elizabeth, Bingley gave a great sigh. “Thank heavens we found you!
Miss Lydia – er, Mrs. Wickham – came bursting into the house
screaming for help. She was in a deplorable state, terrible bruises
all over her and such. We had a devil of a time getting anything
out of her. All we could make out was that Miss Bennet was in
trouble and you were looking for her. What happened?”

“It is a very long story, Charles. Right now,
we have work to do. Wickham and Ann Younge are up the road,” Darcy
announced grimly.

“Wickham?!” Bingley exclaimed. “I thought we
were rid of that blackguard.”

“We are now,” Darcy answered tersely. “He is
dead.” He looked to the men behind Bingley, pointing to one of
them. “You there, be so good as to fetch the authorities and
arrange to have the body taken in.”

The man nodded and turned about to return to
the village. Bingley and the remainder of his companions looked to
Darcy for their orders.

“You two in the back, there are a pair of
frantic horses running about the countryside in broken traces. They
will need to be caught and taken to Meryton. I imagine they are
from somewhere else, but someone in the village should know where
they belong.”

“And you,” Darcy pointed to the two remaining
men, “should notify someone to take care of what is left of the
carriage and then fetch Mr. Jones and a stretcher for a woman who
is badly injured. Tell him to be prepared for several injuries,
including a broken leg, if I am not mistaken. She is about half a
mile up the road from here. Let him know that the constable will be
looking for her as well.”

Elizabeth, who had been content to be silent
as Darcy issued the flurry of orders, suddenly spoke up. “Mr.
Roberts and Mr. Symms, I will amend those orders, if you please.
You may fetch the stretcher and take Mrs. Younge to Meryton;
but you will send Mr. Jones to Longbourn. Mr. Darcy has been
shot and his wounds must be attended to first. Mr. Jones' assistant
can see to Mrs. Younge for the time being.”

“Eliz – um, Miss Bennet,” Darcy frowned
in objection. “Denham can see to me. I really do not think that I
need – ”

“You most certainly do, Mr. Darcy,”
Elizabeth replied firmly. “I will not have you neglected for the
sake of a vicious, scheming woman like that.” She looked to the two
men who were hesitating, unsure of what to do. “Well, what are you
waiting for? Go on! And tell Mr. Jones to hurry.”

Exchanging a look between themselves, the two
farmers backed their horses and hurried off to carry out the
modified instructions.

“Now,” Elizabeth continued,
“Mr. Bingley, would you be so kind as to accompany us home? I
am certain everyone is awaiting news of us, and I would very much
like to get into some clean clothes.”

Darcy answered Bingley's curious look with an
indulgent shrug of his shoulders. “The lady seems to know her
mind.”

“So it seems,” Bingley smiled knowingly. “But
since you are not a member of the family – yet – shall I take
Miss Bennet up with me for the journey back to Longbourn?”

“I thank you, but no. I shall take her – that
is, unless you have any objections, Miss Bennet?”

“Why, no!” Elizabeth avoided Bingley's eyes
as she stammered her reply. That is…well…I, uh…it is just that I am
very
dirty, Mr. Bingley; and Mr. Darcy has already
suffered for it. I would not want to spoil your wedding
clothes.”

“There you have it,” Darcy grinned with
satisfaction. “Come along then, Bingley, we have a wedding
breakfast to finish!”

With a shake of his head, Bingley willingly
complied, falling in with Darcy as they turned toward Longbourn.
Elizabeth was now uncharacteristically quiet within his arms,
Bingley had the good sense not to fill the silence with senseless
chatter, and Darcy spent the time contemplating the morning and the
interview he intended to have with Elizabeth's father at the
earliest possible opportunity.

* * * *

“I tell you, Mr. Bennet, I do not know
what to make of it at all!”

The shrill, piercing voice rising from
Longbourn's dining room made Elizabeth pause on the staircase with
an urge to return to her room until her mother was finished
breakfasting. From the sound of it, there was yet another lecture
awaiting her on the lack of proper manners exhibited at Jane's
wedding celebration.

“My dear Mrs. Bennet, I daresay it does
little good to make yourself anxious over what is done. Our girls
are back with us safe and sound and Wickham can do no more
harm.”

Her father's reassuring voice pulled
Elizabeth forward again and she continued her painfully slow
descent. Between Wickham's brutal treatment and Darcy's perilous
rescue the day before, it seemed as if every part of her had been
stretched, twisted, or pulled in some fashion. Adding to her
overall discomfort was a fierce pain in her foot whenever she
happened to take a wrong step. At last reaching the bottom of the
stairs, she took a fortifying breath and stepped gingerly toward
the dinning room, but halted again when she heard Darcy's name
spoken.

“Thanks to Mr. Darcy, we were spared the
pain of losing them both. It is unthinkable what might have
happened if not for his quick actions and level head. Would that
there were more men like him.”

“I suppose you are right,” Mrs. Bennet
agreed grudgingly. “As proud and disagreeable as that man is, we
shall have to express our gratitude somehow; though he
was
a
lot of trouble, you know – and on Jane's wedding day too! I should
think he would have the good sense to bring Lizzy home and leave
without causing all that commotion.”

“The man was faint from loss of blood. You
can hardly blame him for toppling from his horse. John and Bingley
were right to bring him in. Perhaps our guests would have had less
knowledge of the affair had they not been alerted by your fervent
display of emotions.”

“What did you expect when Hill told me she
could not keep the table filled because the man was bleeding all
over the kitchen? I hope you noticed Mr. Jones' manner when he
finally arrived. He had absolutely no thought for our dear girls
who had suffered most terribly – especially poor Lydia! It is a
very good thing she was already tucked safely into bed. His only
concern was for Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy! The whole kitchen
was turned topsy-turvy just to patch him up, and the mess he made!
Well, I cannot begin to tell you! It was all I could do to get a
basin of warm water sent up to Lizzy.”