Darcy stopped. “No.” Keeping walking would not solve the problem. He rubbed his forehead. “I will go in.” He nodded at the man. “Thank you for coming out to me. I suppose they haven’t been seen in the town?”
“No, sir. We have been to all five post inns. The Darcy coach has not changed horses here.”
“Very well. They must have decided to change at smaller villages.” Darcy forced a smile. “Go and enjoy your meal. Make sure you and Mr. Monckton have good rooms. It is a hard ride again tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Reed left him at the door, and Darcy returned to the parlour, determined not to let Richard discompose him further.
Where was Elizabeth? Was she being ill-used? And what about his sister?
43
Five days. Five days in the coach, and Elizabeth knew her composure wouldn’t last much longer. Nor would their journey.
The chances of saving Georgiana and herself from their fate were receding; she’d not seen the slightest opportunity to escape their captors, and it was daily more difficult to try and keep Georgiana from her misery. The hardest part was being in constant company with Mr. Wickham each day. His gaze was becoming increasingly gloating and the way he looked at Georgiana, and even herself, sent a chill down her back. His conversation was becoming increasingly crude, designed to cause disgust and fear.
But now there was some faint hope, and it was nearly time. Each morning, the coach had stopped by a stream, and they’d both been taken down to wash as best they could. Mr. Wickham would watch Georgiana with undisguised lust, which sent a shiver through Elizabeth. She was very glad he hadn’t acted upon it yet, although she didn’t understand why he hadn’t done so.
One of his hired thugs would watch to ensure Elizabeth didn’t try to escape. Tom did not seem as brutal as the others, and he’d look away with a shamefaced expression while she bent over the stream and splashed water on her face.
Yesterday, he’d drawn closer, and she’d straightened up, giving him her most contemptuous look, but he’d looked furtively across at Mr. Wickham.
“Tomorrow,” he’d whispered hoarsely. “You must be ready tomorrow. I can’t help much, but you’ll have a few minutes when I walk away from this.”
That night, alone again in the coach, Elizabeth had talked to Georgiana, trying to get her to see that she must be ready, but not show any change in her behaviour.
“You must be quiet, Georgiana, and wait for my signal.” Elizabeth had no idea what Tom wanted her to be ready for, but the hope that bloomed within her made her realise she’d rather the worst happened during their attempt, than stay and allow Mr. Wickham to get away with his evil plans.
In all this time, there had been no indication of any pursuit, no sign that anybody they passed thought anything untoward was happening.
Desolately, she knew Mr. Darcy could never reach them in time. It wasn’t possible. His journey must be slower, for he’d have to search for them, ask to discover which road they’d taken. At least she was sure Mrs. Evans would have had him notified of what had happened.
It was late morning when the coach slowed, and turned off the road onto a narrow track. Elizabeth’s heart pounded. Was this where Tom planned to walk away, giving them the opportunity to escape? She had to admit to herself that she could still see no possibility of escape. Mr. Wickham kept a close eye on them, and he knew Georgiana was too fearful to run from him. He seemed confident Elizabeth wouldn’t leave her behind, and he was right.
“Remember, keep very quiet, and look over at me often to see my signal,” Elizabeth whispered to Georgiana, before moving away slightly to find a different part of the river bank. If they weren’t too close together, Mr. Wickham couldn’t catch both of them at once.
That was the extent of her planning. Without knowing Tom’s idea, she had no way of knowing what she might be called upon to do.
She swallowed the huge lump in her throat — she must be ready. She took her time in trying to tidy her hair with her hand, but didn’t unpin it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Wickham reclining on the bank, watching Georgiana. He was scowling, and Elizabeth thought he was almost certainly as tired of the journey as they were. She turned and glanced upstream a little way, then hastily looked away. She must not let Mr. Wickham see what Tom was doing. The heavy-set man had moved behind his master and she saw him pick up a small rock.
Instantly, she understood what he was about to do, and her heart leapt. But Georgiana would be unprepared. She hurried over to Georgiana and leaned closer to her.
“Georgiana!” she hissed. “Pretend you have something in your eye!” She turned the girl’s face away from what was about to happen as the girl rubbed at her eyes. “And keep quiet!” If Georgiana screamed the men still at the coach would hear, and all would be lost. Holding Georgiana’s head into her bosom, she turned and glanced at the bank.
At that moment Tom stepped forward. He struck the back of Mr. Wickham’s head with the rock in his fist. Elizabeth flinched. While she had dreamed of doing such a thing over the last few days, she knew she would never have dared strike him so hard, and it was likely he might not even have been stunned.
Mr. Wickham had been sitting up, looking at her suspiciously, but he fell forward and lay still. Tom dropped the stone and hastened towards them.
“Quickly, miss,” he said. “Don't go to the nearest cottages, go that way.” He pointed south. “There are some more cottages near the road. Ask for help. They’ll hide you.” He turned away. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be found. I’m sorry I can’t help more. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Tom. May you have good fortune, too,” Elizabeth whispered after him. She gave Georgiana a little shake.
“Hurry! We must go before they get suspicious.” She didn’t look back. Georgiana struggled a little, trying to look behind her. “Don’t look back, Georgiana. We must go.”
“Is he dead?” The girl’s voice trembled.
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth tried to reassure her. “But remember, he did the exact same thing to your brother, who’d done nothing to deserve it. And Mr. Wickham definitely deserves what he got.”
Georgiana seemed to steel herself. “Which way must we go?”
“This way!” Elizabeth took her hand and led her along the riverbank. She would keep away from the lane as long as she could. As they threaded their way through the bushes, she wondered how long it would be before the men at the coach went in search of their master. Or perhaps Mr. Wickham would recover his senses sooner.
She hoped it would take them some moments to ensure he was recovered before they would be at liberty to start searching for her and Georgiana? Would they think Tom was still with them?
Soon a row of small farmer’s cottages came into view and Elizabeth turned for the lane. Glancing north nervously as they rejoined it, dreading seeing the coach approaching, she chose the fourth cottage along. Perhaps if there was a search, going through the other cottages first meant it would take longer for Mr. Wickham to find them.
As she knocked on the door, she wished she and Georgiana did not look quite as disreputable as they did.
The plump woman who came to the door looked at them askance. “What …?”
Elizabeth interrupted, glancing back again. “I’m so sorry to have to call here looking like this, but can you hide us? There is a man who is trying to take my friend to Scotland to force her to marry. He’s threatened us both in the coach from London, and we’ve only just managed to run away from them.” She looked back along the lane, wondering what she would do if they were not believed.
The woman looked shocked. “Oh! Are you the young ladies spoken of by the duke’s steward this very morning?” She opened the door wider. “Come in! Come in, quickly!”
Elizabeth pushed Georgiana in front of her. “I’m sorry, I don't think so, no. But we are in desperate need of your assistance.”
“You must be those young ladies.” The woman drew the curtain across the front wi
ndow. “The steward came to see all of us this morning. The duke has had a message from London, and we’re to keep an eye out for any coach with a crest on it, especially if it doesn’t stop, or is on a back road. We have to report it at once.” She beckoned them through into the tiny scullery at the back. “You’ll be better in here. I must go and tell my neighbour to send for my husband.”
Elizabeth’s heart jumped into her throat. “Why must you send for him?”
The woman looked at her disbelievingly. “We were told we must send news at once to Blackwell Court. I suppose they will send assistance for you.”
“Georgiana,” Elizabeth turned to her friend. “Do you know of Blackwell Court, or who lives there? Might they be helping Mr. Wickham? Perhaps we ought to leave now.”
“No, no! If they were helping him, they wouldn’t have told us you’d been abducted, would they?” The woman seemed anxious to keep them in the cottage. “I’ll help you, it looks as if you’ve had a terrible time. When the duke comes, he’ll take you to his estate, and you’ll be safe. I’m honoured you chose this cottage.”
“Who is he?” Georgiana pushed herself straighter.
“The Duke of Durdar,” the farm woman replied. “He’s a very good master, and we all respect him very much.”
Georgiana looked at Elizabeth. “I think my uncle knows him.”
She didn’t sound very sure, Elizabeth thought. But there was nothing else to be done. For nigh on a week, she’d had little sleep at night. Coupled with the fear of what would happen to them, the bone-wrenching exhaustion was sapping her caution.
“Very well. But I’m anxious that soon they’ll be searching for us.”
When the woman had gone outside, Elizabeth reached for Georgiana’s hand. “How are you?”
The girl was shivering. “I’m not sure, Elizabeth. But I couldn’t bear it if he caught us again.” Tears filled her eyes. “Do you really think it’s over? Are we safe now?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know. He is a dreadful man, and very determined. We shall have to hope these people are able to help us quickly — and have the will to do so.”
She glanced at the door. Any assistance would be welcome, but none more than Mr. Darcy. Where was he? Would he walk into Mr. Wickham’s trap, thinking he still held Elizabeth and Georgiana?
44
Darcy slid wearily from his horse in front of the Ox post inn on the corner of Lonsdale Street.
Carlisle, at last.
He frowned as his cousin dismounted beside him. In all this time, there had been no trace of Elizabeth, Georgiana, or their captors.
Of course, they might have taken the east road to the north. Richard said the earl had sent a party that way. But Darcy didn’t know, and the strain of his ignorance and guilt weighed ever more heavily on his heart.
He glanced at the sun. It was early afternoon; once they’d checked here for post, as they’d promised the earl, there would be time to push on with fresh horses, further to the Scottish border.
“Once more into the breach, my friend.” Richard spoke lightly, but his eyes were concerned as he looked at Darcy.
“Yes.” Darcy said shortly, and turned for the inn. His heart jumped, Mr. Reed was hurrying from it.
“What is it?”
“I have retained the parlour for your use, sir. But there is an express from London. I will wait for further instructions.”
“Thank you.” Darcy turned to the grooms.
“Wait. Don’t take the horses yet, until I’ve read the letter.”
Nodding at them, he strode into the inn, Richard close behind him. He must not allow his hopes to be raised too high, there had hardly been time for the earl’s post to have arrived without waiting for news to send. But he longed to discover what was happening.
As soon as they were ensconced in the parlour, he broke the seal and scanned the letter impatiently, gesturing Richard to read it over his shoulder. He frowned, turned the page, and read it again, carefully.
“Do you know this duke? What’s he like?”
Richard shook his head. “I’ve never met him, although I know he’s been a friend of Father’s since — oh, their Cambridge days, I think. They work together in the Lords a great deal. Father thinks a lot of him. If Father has asked for his assistance, it will certainly be forthcoming.”
“Let us go at once to Blackwell Court.” Darcy folded the letter into his breast pocket, and hurried outside.
He nodded at the waiting servants. “I need one of you to ride with us to Blackwell Court, by the fastest route. A shilling to the man who knows where to go.”
A scramble immediately ensued, and soon he and Richard, with their servants, were trotting behind a satisfied-looking groom. Darcy dropped back to speak to his steward.
“Blackwell Court is the estate of the Duke of Durdar, Mr. Reed. The Earl of Matlock has asked for his assistance, and Colonel Fitzwilliam says that he is certain to provide it. Perhaps he has had time to make local enquiries.”
“Yes, sir. If Blackwell Court is in Durdar itself, it is a little over three miles away.”
Darcy managed a smile. “You’ve acquainted yourself with the maps.”
“I have.” Mr. Reed nodded. Darcy spurred the horse forward and drew alongside Richard.
“Durdar itself is three miles hence. What do you think His Grace will have done for us?”
“I don’t know, Darcy. But if I were in his position and received such a letter, I would send out to all my local acquaintances, and all the tenant farmers, and ensure they knew of the situation, telling them to inform at once if they had any suspicion the coach was in the locale.”
Darcy’s spirits rose. “My thoughts exactly.” A duke would surely have the resources to assist them.
“Don’t get your hopes too high,” Richard warned. “He will only have got the letter earlier today, or late last night. It will have been the same express that bought Father’s letter to you.”
Darcy grimaced. They were retracing their steps southward. If they’d known, they could have stopped there, and saved an hour. It might make all the difference.
“I mean it, Darcy.” Richard’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “They might not be anywhere near here. We might yet have to go on into Scotland, and call on the Laird mentioned in Father’s letter.”
“I know,” Darcy said. “But I have to hope. How can I know what they have endured? I must find them, I must!”
“We must,” his cousin corrected. “We will. Soon, I hope, or you will waste away entirely.”
Darcy jerked his head irritably. How could he relax, how could he eat well, knowing Elizabeth was suffering unknown hardship and privation?
He looked up at the impressive facade of Blackwell Court as they reined in outside the entrance. He was aware Mr. Reed was paying the Carlisle groom his shilling, and the man turned his horse and rode away down the drive.
He and Richard hurried up the steps and the butler opened the door before they could knock.
“Is His Grace at home?” Darcy drew the letter out of his pocket. “I understand my uncle has written to him, asking for assistance in recovering my … sister and her friend.”
The butler looked bemused. “Yes, sir. But His Grace has left in his coach to go to the cottages. He went as soon as he heard the news.”
“What cottages?” Darcy didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and hailed the grooms who were leading the horses away.
“Halloo! Bring those horses back! At once!” He turned back to the butler.
“Tell me what you know.” He knew Richard was close behind him.
The man drew himself up. “His Grace’s steward called on all the nearby cottages this morning. He asked that any information be brought to His Grace at once.” He looked harassed. “Then, not an hour ago, one of the farmers arrived, saying two young ladies had sought his wife’s assistance. They said they had escaped a man who was taking them to Scotland. His Grace at once had his coach prepared and left for
the Lower Durdar cottages, with his steward and a number of men.”
“When?” Darcy saw Reed and Monckton mounting, and the grooms holding the remaining two horses for him and his cousin.
“About thirty minutes ago, sir,” the butler said, and hesitated. “Take a groom with you, they will know where to go.”
Darcy turned; Richard was already hurrying down the steps. He looked back at the butler. “Did the man say anything about seeing the Darcy coach, or any of their abductors?”
“No, sir. He came at once, so they may have arrived after he left.”
Darcy felt grim. “All right. Thank you for your help. We will go and join His Grace.” He ran down the steps, and the remaining groom assisted him to mount.
“The other groom is getting a horse, Darcy.” Richard’s animal was jittery with excitement, and the mood was infecting the other horses.
The other groom rode from the yard towards them. “Do you know where to go?” Darcy called over, and the lad touched his cap.
“Yes, sir!” He turned and trotted along the drive.
“Hurry!” Darcy urged his horse on. “Will they be there before we reach them?”
“Aye, sir. It’s not far. They will have been there for a while now.”
“Where?” Darcy craned forward. When would those cottages come into view?
Richard rode alongside. “We must be careful, Darcy. Wickham may have caught up with them.”
“Yes. I hope the duke is careful.” Darcy couldn’t bear it if Wickham harmed them, feeling himself cornered. “How will Wickham behave if he feels he is trapped?”
Richard glowered at him. “I meant you must take care, Darcy! Hold back until we have discerned the situation. If he is holding Miss Bennet, she might be harmed if you go in too hastily.”
Darcy growled to himself. His cousin had hit on just the right thing to say to stop him. And he didn’t like it.
It was obvious when they turned the corner. The Darcy coach was outside a smart little row of cottages, with small, but well-tended, front gardens. Another, even larger coach was angled across the lane, blocking the Darcy coach from moving off.
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