The Darcys of Pemberley (34 page)

“Would you mind telling me where we are going
and why you have abducted me?” she asked, hoping to elicit enough
information about his plot to make a plan of her own. As she
suspected, he was more than willing to oblige.

“Well, Mrs. Darcy, as I said before, I have
no intention of remaining here to be frustrated at every turn by
your ‘illustrious’ husband. In fact, I have decided to leave
England altogether – for the continent or perhaps America,
somewhere that my talents will be more rightly appreciated … and
richly rewarded. There certainly is no future for me here. You see,
I refuse to soil myself working the ground for my daily bread … or
to endure the punishment of any more time in your sister’s irksome
company.”

With difficulty, Elizabeth held back the
retort such a speech deserved.

“This
dreadful
news of hers was the
final blow that decided me. I never cared three straws for Lydia
except that she was eager to take me to her bed, with or without
benefit of marriage.
You
were always my true favorite,
Elizabeth, as I once was yours, if I am not very much mistaken. I
have often imagined how different things might have been had I
possessed the resources to apply for your hand years ago, when I am
convinced you would have been more than happy to accept me. Then
I
should have had the agreeable office of getting you with
child. Much as I detest infants, it might almost have been worth it
in your case. But nothing turns out as it should. Still, you will
be pleased to know that I have found a way for you to make it up to
me.”

“Indeed. How so?”

“You, my dear, are to induce your husband to
provide me the means for a dignified departure. Oh, and I shall
also insist that you favor me with a proper sendoff – something
special to remember you by. The recollection of it, and the thought
of Darcy’s horror when he discovers you, must be my consolation,”
he concluded matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth could restrain herself no longer.
“So, you mean to abandon your wife and child, assault your
sister-in-law, and inflict as much pain as possible on your
childhood friend and benefactor. Have I got it right? And you
wonder why people do not consider you a gentleman!”

Her rejoinder hit the mark. Wickham jerked
the horse to a stop, seized Elizabeth by the shoulders, and shook
her. “Mind your tongue, my dear,” he snarled. “If you value your
life, you will remember who is in control here and behave yourself,
else I will have no choice but to make this more unpleasant for you
than it otherwise need be.”

When Elizabeth did not resist or retaliate,
Wickham’s grip slackened slightly and a crooked grin overspread his
face. He slowly looked her up and down, savoring the sight as one
would a fine dinner spread on the table before the feasting begins.
Then, he abruptly kissed her full on the mouth. Other than an
involuntary drawing back, she offered no opposition. “See, now that
wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said triumphantly. “You might even enjoy
this, Mrs. Darcy. I certainly have had no complaints from the
ladies before, I assure you.”

As Elizabeth steeled herself for what lay
ahead, she experienced an odd detachment from her plight, a peace
in the face of disaster that defied explanation. It enabled her to
focus not on her tormenter, but on her object. She knew what she
must do. As Wickham continued to press his advances, she slid her
hand into her pocket and deftly freed her knife from its sheath,
whereupon she made one last attempt to dissuade him from making the
use of that weapon necessary.

“I warn you, sir, for your sake as well as my
own, you must desist at once.”

Wickham only laughed at her before resuming
his offensive.

Elizabeth was then determined, and when she
felt him trespass where only her husband had the right to go, she
acted. Without hesitation, she drew the knife from her pocket and
drove it deep into his belly. Wickham pulled away in astonishment,
attempting to stand. As he did so, Elizabeth gave him a great shove
and, before he could recover his balance, she slapped the reigns
hard and shouted.

The startled mare bolted ahead, causing the
gig to pitch and jerk erratically. As Wickham hung half in and half
out, Elizabeth thought she might succeed in disposing of her
assailant. Yet he somehow retained his grip and slowly hauled
himself back aboard, his eyes black with rage and cursing her
treachery all the while. If he had not definitely decided to murder
her before, Elizabeth knew he was fully capable of doing so
now.

She fended him off with all her might, but
Wickham had the advantage, despite his bleeding wound. Neither of
them had a spare hand to reign in the horse. With all the commotion
to the rear, the frightened creature ran wild, the gig careening
dangerously behind. In the midst of all this, it occurred to
Elizabeth that the experience seemed increasingly familiar, as if
she had lived through it before. Just as the horse faltered, she
understood why; it was her nightmare come to life.

The mare went down with the crack of bone and
a shriek of equine terror. At the same moment, the gig’s right
wheel struck a large stone, sending the rest of the assemblage
flying. Elizabeth had the strange sensation of being suspended in
mid-air for an impossible length of time, the broken carriage and
its contents slowly revolving about her. Then it was over in a
flash as everything crashed back to earth with the appalling clamor
attendant to total destruction. Elizabeth cried out in pain, and
all went black.

~*~

At the same time, Mr. Darcy’s expedition was
drawing to a more peaceful conclusion. The missing carriage and
travelers had been located just ten miles south of Lambton, their
failure to arrive at Pemberley owing, as originally supposed, to
nothing more serious than a broken axle.

The ladies were relieved that help had come,
though somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the rescue party.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence raised further speculation in
Georgiana’s mind. The two exchanged a questioning look, each
wondering why the other was so far from where they were supposed to
be. All explanations were deferred for a more suitable time and
place, however.

The ladies and their belongings were soon
transferred to the other carriage, and their journey home
recommenced forthwith. Three men stayed behind to help repair the
broken axle. The rest joined the procession back to Pemberley,
which, with the rescue accomplished, proceeded at a more leisurely
pace. By midday, Georgiana and Charlotte were safely delivered to
the doors of the great house and handed over to the assiduous care
of Mrs. Reynolds.

Darcy was promptly given the note that
Elizabeth had left for his information. The contents worried him
excessively, especially after he learnt that she apparently had
been taken away by Wickham himself. Darcy then hurried outside to
reassemble the men who had lately fetched his sister home, to now
accompany him in search of his wife. They tarried only long enough
to harness fresh horses before setting out again, this time in the
direction of the Wickhams’ cottage.

Once there, Darcy pounded on the door and
ordered Sarah, who answered, to fetch her mistress instantly. “Is
your sister here?” he demanded of Mrs. Wickham.

“Lord, no! Should she be?”

“What about your husband? Where is he?”

“He has been out all day, if it is any of
your
concern,” replied Lydia, peevishly.

With his worst fears substantiated, Darcy’s
alarm increased. “It
is
my concern, and it should be yours
as well if you care anything about your sister. So listen
carefully. I think something grave has happened to Elizabeth, and
that your husband is the cause of it. If you do not wish to be held
responsible for the consequences, I would advise you to tell me
what you know about the business.”

Lydia claimed to be entirely ignorant, an
assertion which Mr. Darcy was inclined to believe. He enlightened
her directly. “Your husband called at Pemberley this morning and
persuaded your sister to go with him on the pretense that you were
injured and needed her help. Here you stand before me, perfectly
sound, and neither of them has been seen for hours! Do you have any
idea where he has taken her?”

Lydia was not particularly quick-witted under
the best of circumstances. At present, with such shocking news and
such a stormy-tempered man before her, it took a minute for her to
comprehend. “Mr. Wickham has taken Elizabeth somewhere? Are you
sure?”

“Quite sure,” Darcy said with forced
patience. “Now, for your sister’s sake,
please
think
carefully
. If Wickham wanted to conceal himself or someone
else, where would he go?”

Although Lydia still did not follow Mr.
Darcy’s premise, she applied herself to the question. After a
moment’s rumination, she said, “He would surely make for London if
he could, but I still cannot believe …”

“Is there somewhere else, perhaps some place
nearby, that he might go if he could not get to London?” Darcy
asked, reasoning that Wickham could not have traveled towards town
without being seen by the search party from Pemberley.

“In that case, he would probably hole up in
some out-of-the-way corner of Pemberley. This place is vast enough
to hide anything, and I daresay Wickham knows it as well as you do,
every pathway, road, and dirt track. Why, only last week, when we
were out for a drive in the gig, he took me down a rough lane I had
never noticed before. He said he wanted to see where it went and if
it could be driven in a carriage.”

With further encouragement, Lydia described
the road and its location in more detail. It was not an overly
promising lead, but it seemed as good a place as any to begin the
search. Leaving a man behind to keep watch, Darcy led the rest in
the direction of the lane about which Lydia had told him.

The whole party now sensed the more solemn
import of their work, the evidence of foul play in this case being
far more decided than on the morning’s mission. Into any side lane
or path large enough to accommodate the missing gig, Mr. Darcy sent
a pair of men to investigate whilst the rest of the party continued
down the main road. The men were armed and instructed to signal the
others with a single shot if they found anything. Several areas had
already been explored without result by the time they reached the
road Lydia had suggested. There the appearance of fresh wheel marks
in the dirt reinforced Darcy’s intention to investigate this
particular lane himself.

Enlisting Colonel Fitzwilliam’s assistance,
Darcy left the rest of the men to await his signal or return. He
rode as hard as the rough character of the track would allow, the
colonel just behind him. Although he had not come that way himself
for years, Darcy recollected that he had once discovered a
makeshift cabin, long abandoned, down one such dirt lane. He could
imagine that a secluded spot of that sort would suit Wickham’s
purposes exactly, satisfying his need for concealment and privacy.
Yes, he could imagine the scene only too well. Darcy shuddered and
dug his heels hard into his horse’s flanks.

Discovery

A ride of less than five minutes brought the
two men upon the horrific scene of the accident. Before his horse
could even be brought to a complete stop, Darcy flung himself from
the saddle and began his search. He frantically cast his eyes over
the field of destruction, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

The colonel was momentarily arrested by the
pitiful sight of the mare, which had been lying still until their
approach stirred her to make another futile attempt to stand. It
was immediately clear what needed to be done. With a single shot,
Fitzwilliam both ended the creature’s suffering and signaled the
other men.

Wickham’s motionless body sprawled just
beyond the wrecked gig. Darcy did not stop to investigate. He
pressed on, finally discovering Elizabeth hidden in the brush
nearby, curled up with her head turned away at an awkward angle. A
cry of anguish escaped him at the sight of her small, crumpled
form, bloody and battered. He dropped to his knees by her side,
desperately seeking some proof that she lived. Darcy felt the pale
skin of her cheek; it was frighteningly cool. He called her name
without response. No visible sign of respiration stirred within
her. With a wrenching sob, he leaned down to gather his wife’s
broken body to himself.

Elizabeth moaned softly.

Darcy drew in a quaking breath. “She is
alive, Fitzwilliam!” he shouted. “Thank God, she is alive!” For the
moment, nothing else mattered.

The two men quickly freed Elizabeth from the
tangle of the thicket, which had likely cushioned her fall. Then
Darcy ever so gently lifted her from the brush and started back
through the scattered debris. “What about him?” he asked the
colonel, with a nod toward Wickham.

Fitzwilliam looked grim and shook his
head.

Leaving the accident scene behind, they
continued down the lane to meet the approaching carriage and search
party. As the other men looked on in silent respect, Mr. Darcy bore
his unconscious wife into the coach with the greatest care.

“Fitzwilliam,” he said. “I cannot leave her.
Could you…?”

“I am at your service, Darcy.”

“Then get to Kympton as fast as you can.
Summon the surgeon, Mr. Poole, to Pemberley at once. Tell Mr.
Thornton also. And someone must get a message through to
Heatheridge. Elizabeth would want her sisters with her.”

“Leave it to me, my friend,” said
Fitzwilliam, placing his hand on Darcy’s shoulder. The two
exchanged an intense look. Then Fitzwilliam set off on his mission
whilst the carriage made for home.