“Well, to be sure,” said Elizabeth. “That is an apt description, but if you murder him, you will be hung, and then how shall we get home?”
“I rather imagine they won’t come to hang me until at least the morning, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bingley, sniffing.
“He’s there!” said Jane, pointing.
“What?” Elizabeth looked out the window, and sure enough, there was Mr. Wickham, going down the side of the road. He was carrying a bottle of some sort of strong drink, and as they approached, they could hear him bellowing out Jane’s name.
“Stop the coach!” cried Bingley, shooting up straight and hitting his head on the ceiling.
The coach lurched to a halt, and Bingley threw open the door and went out, taking the gun with him. “How dare you, Wickham, how dare you?”
“Oh, Bingley, it’s you,” said Wickham idly. “You haven’t seen Miss Bennet walking about, have you? She and I are playing a little game, you see. It’s a chasing game. But I’m rather drunk, and I’m getting a bit bored with it all.”
“You wretch!” roared Bingley.
“I say, Bingley, have you been drinking as well?”
“You would have ravaged her,” Bingley said, and now his voice was suddenly quiet. “Are you even a man, Wickham, or are you some kind of devil?”
Wickham lifted his chin. “Am I a devil? Me? It’s her you should asking that question of.”
“Who? Miss Bennet?”
“Indeed. What is it about her? She’s pretty enough, but so pretty to drive us both out of our minds? Why must I have her? Why? I’ve never put so much on the line to get between a set of legs before, and now here we are, and you’ve lost your head over her too. She’s the devil, Bingley. Some kind of demoness that’s turned us into raving idiots.”
Bingley shook his head. “Stop talking. I don’t want to see your mouth moving anymore.” He raised the gun he was holding.
“What are you going to do with that, Bingley? Shoot me?”
“Yes,” said Bingley.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Bingley, you have been drinking,” said Wickham. Abruptly, he rushed at Bingley, seizing the gun as he did so.
The gun went off, but the shot went harmlessly into the air, not hitting anyone.
The two men grappled over the revolver for several moments, but then Wickham wrenched it from Bingley’s hands and flung it away. He pulled back a fist and jammed it into Bingley’s stomach.
Bingley doubled over, howling.
Wickham dashed toward the coach.
The driver was on the ground, yelling something at Wickham, but Wickham dove around him and climbed up into the driver’s seat himself.
Jane shrieked.
Wickham laughed.
The carriage started to move.
Bingley had recovered and was running toward the carriage.
“No!” cried Elizabeth. She turned to Jane. “We have to jump out. Now, quick before the horses gather much speed.”
The driver was running next to them, too, yelling insults at Wickham.
“Jump out?” said Jane.
“Oh, Jane, there is no time to lose!”
But now, the coach was moving rather quickly, and when Elizabeth looked out the door, she didn’t think they could jump after all. Instead, she and Jane clung to each other, and the coach rumbled off into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After some time, the carriage came to a stop, and Wickham jumped down out of the driver’s seat to come around to the open door.
Jane and Elizabeth were very cold, having had the door open the whole time, the wind rushing in on them. They could see that they were stopped in a wood. The road ahead of them was narrow, winding around a bend through the trees. It was cold, and it was very, very dark.
Mr. Wickham laughed. “Well, I’m not sure what it is I’m going to do with Miss Elizabeth. But perhaps it would be a laugh to have you too. After all, that would make Darcy cross.” He climbed up into the carriage and surveyed the sisters. “Yes, one go round with Jane, and then a bit of a break before a go round with Lizzy. Capital.” He rubbed his hands together.
“I don’t think Mr. Darcy would care,” said Elizabeth, glaring at him. “He never came back to inquire after me.”
“Didn’t he?” Wickham laughed.
“As you well know,” said Elizabeth. “Since you’re the one who spoke to him and sent that note to Jane.”
Wickham furrowed his brow. “Oh, yes, I vaguely remember doing that.”
“Wait,” said Elizabeth. “Have you done something to Mr. Darcy?”
“No, not a thing,” said Wickham. “Not a thing.” He pointed at Jane’s dress. “Rip off the hem of your dress, then.”
“No,” said Jane, glaring at him. “I’ll do no such thing.”
Wickham slapped her across the face.
Jane gasped.
Elizabeth screamed.
“Do it,” growled Wickham.
Jane shook, hand to her cheek.
“Oh, it didn’t hurt so bad as all that,” said Wickham. “Likely, you’re just surprised. No one ever raised a hand to you before. Probably would have been better behaved if you’d had a few things beaten into you. We can fix all that.” He nodded at the skirt. “Now. Rip. Once you’ve gotten it, tie up your sister.”
“What?” said Jane.
“I can’t have her trying to escape or go at me or run for help while you and I are busy, now can I?” said Wickham.
Upon which, Elizabeth threw herself at Wickham, her hands outstretched. She went for his eyes.
Wickham cried out.
Elizabeth clawed at his face.
He shoved her off. “You hedge whore!”
Jane thrust out a foot, kicking Wickham from behind.
He turned to her. “No more of that, now!”
Elizabeth seized a hunk of his hair and pulled.
Wickham shrieked.
Jane began to pummel him.
Together, they pushed him down on the floor of the coach and they hit and kicked and scratched until he begged them for mercy.
“Stop it, please, I beg you, no more!” he said, and he sounded rather on the verge of tears.
“Fine,” said Elizabeth. “Out of the coach.”
“What?” said Wickham. “We are in the middle of nowhere.”
“Out of the coach!” said Elizabeth.
“Fine, fine,” said Wickham and climbed out.
Elizabeth went out after him and gathered up her skirts to climb into the driver’s seat. “Close the door, Jane!” she called, gathering up the reins.
Jane pulled the door shut.
“You can’t leave me here!” cried Wickham.
Elizabeth did exactly that.
* * *
The Earl of Matlock curled his lips at Mr. Darcy. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here. I seem to remember making it rather clear you weren’t welcome in this place.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head to his uncle. He remembered the day well. He’d come to plead his case, to thank his uncle for buying back Hawthorne Abbey from whoever it was that Wickham had lost the estate to, and to tell his uncle he’d been wronged.
His own father hadn’t listened, but maybe his uncle would, he’d hoped.
“Yes, well,” said Mr. Darcy, “I am not here as your relation. I know you do not claim me as such. I am only here to make a business transaction.”
“Business? How is that you are conducting business?”
“When last I was here, I begged you to return Hawthorne Abbey to me. It was left to me by my mother, her own property, and it has always been meant to be left to my younger sister Georgiana someday. You would not do so. You named a price which I could not meet, not without the help of my father, who you well knew had disowned me. And I went off to try and get that much money together. It’s been two years, and I’m back.”
The earl raised his eyebrows. “You’ve put together enough money to buy Hawthorne?”
“Yes,”
said Darcy. “I believe that I have.”
The earl folded his arms over his chest, surveying him. “Well, well. That is impressive, I must say. If only Richard might have half the wherewithal you have.”
Darcy spread his hands. “I am sure that Colonel Fitzwilliam does as best he can.”
The earl chuckled. “You and he, always defending the other, even as boys. He’s still convinced that you were telling the truth, that it was that Wickersham that did it, you know.”
“I don’t wish to speak of that,” said Darcy. He had long ago given up pleading his case. His mother’s side of the family had been even more hurt and angry than his father at the loss of Hawthorne Abbey. It was a dearly beloved estate that had been in the Fitzwilliam family for generations.
“No?” said the earl.
“I do not expect to be received amongst you as your nephew again, sir. I don’t ask that. But I do need Hawthorne.”
“And why is that? Is it because you wish to gamble it away again?”
“No, sir. I will go there and live. Perhaps, if my father were to…” But Darcy thought better of finishing that thought. “That is, the estate will be my home and I will do what I can to make something of myself there.”
“We’ll see,” said the earl. “If you’ve truly changed, then I may have to revise my opinion of you. Let’s talk price.”
Darcy squared his shoulders. “Yes. Let’s.”
* * *
Mrs. Bennet met Jane and Elizabeth at the door to Longbourn. It was dawn, and they were being escorted back by Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Bennet’s nose was red from crying, and she looked as if she had passed the night sleepless.
“What? Jane, what are you doing here? You are meant to be in London with the Bingleys. And Lizzy, you wicked girl, you have put us all in a terrible fright. How dare you leave us?”
“It wasn’t her fault, madam,” said Mr. Bingley.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Bingley, what are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” said Mr. Bingley. “It may take some time to impart.”
“Well, I suppose you will have to come in,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But I’m afraid we are in no position to receive you. Everyone is still abed, and it is far too early for—”
“Don’t trouble yourself with such things, madam,” said Mr. Bingley. “After the night we have had, there is no need for worrying over trifling proprieties.”
“Proprieties?” said Mrs. Bennet. “Trifling? Oh, heavens!” She fell away from the door, fanning herself.
Elizabeth and Jane entered the house, and they helped their mother into the drawing room, attended by Mr. Bingley.
On their way there, Mr. Bennet met them in the hallway. He looked as if he’d aged ten years in a night, his face drawn in the pale morning light. He accompanied them to the drawing room.
Mrs. Bennet reclined on the couch, babbling about how it was impossible to ring for tea when the servants were engaged in waking only now, and that she didn’t know what to do.
Mr. Bennet ignored his wife and addressed Mr. Bingley. “Sir, how come you to be in the company of both of my daughters? Have you been with them all night?”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Bingley. “It is quite a tale, as I had begun to relay to your wife.”
“Well, start at the beginning,” said Mr. Bennet. “I dare say that after all that has occurred lately here, I should not be surprised over anything. But Jane and Elizabeth, you two were the ones I thought were too smart for something like this. I would have expected it from your silly sisters, but from the two of you…”
Elizabeth looked away, guilt blossoming with her. It seemed that all she did lately was to disappoint her father. She felt the pain of it keenly.
Jane began to cry, quietly.
Mr. Bingley seized her hand. “There, there, Miss Bennet. You must not take on so. None of this is your fault.”
“No?” said Mr. Bennet.
“No,” said Bingley. “We can lay the fault for all of this at the feet of that blackguard, Mr. Wickham.”
“Blackguard?” Mrs. Bennet sat up straight on the couch. “But how could you say such a thing?”
“Wickham told Miss Bennet that he would marry her,” said Mr. Bingley. “He indicated they were going to Scotland to elope, but it was a lie.”
Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth. “So, Lizzy, this was the truth you told me?”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth. “No matter what you think of me, I wish you would not think that I would lie to you.”
He sighed. “I confess, I don’t know what I think about anything.”
“A lie?” said Mrs. Bennet. “I don’t understand. If he wanted to marry our Jane, he must have known there was no impediment to a union. Why an elopement?”
“He said he did not want to wait,” said Jane softly. “I must admit, I was swept away by his excitement. I did not wish to wait either.”
Mr. Bingley turned to her. He let go of her hand.
Jane clasped her fingers together and studied them.
“He attempted to do violence to Miss Bennet, against her will,” said Mr. Bingley. “But she was able to get free of him, and Miss Elizabeth and I happened upon her just after she made her escape.”
Mr. Bennet shot up out of his chair. “What are you saying? Where is Mr. Wickham?”
“We left him in the woods,” said Elizabeth. “Alone.”
“We had to hurt him,” said Jane. “He had become… utterly unlike himself.”
“He’d revealed his true nature,” said Elizabeth.
“I think it highly unlikely Wickham will come back to this part of the country willingly,” said Mr. Bingley. “If he does, he will not be well received, not by me.”
Mr. Bennet shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together.
Mrs. Bennet turned a bewildered face at Elizabeth and Jane. “Mr. Wickham did not wish to marry you, Jane?”
“No,” said Jane, and her lower lip began to tremble.
Elizabeth put her arm around her sister and clutched her close.
“Well, why not?” said Mrs. Bennet. “Why would he behave in the way he did if he didn’t want her?”
“He wanted her,” said Mr. Bingley darkly. “But not for any honorable purposes.”
“Oh, that villain!” said Mrs. Bennet. She turned to her husband. “What are we going to do, Mr. Bennet? Tell me, what are we going to do?”
Mr. Bennet ignored her. “Mr. Bingley, who knows of all this that has occurred? Who saw you?”
“Well, only my driver,” said Mr. Bingley, “and I can attest to his discretion.”
“There were people at the inn,” said Jane. “They saw me with Wickham. I didn’t recognize anyone, but who knows if someone recognized me. If so, the news will spread like wildfire.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Bennet. “Between this and Lizzy’s indiscretions, we are in quite a predicament.”
“I am going to do what I can,” said Mr. Bingley. “I am going straight to seek out Mr. Darcy after I leave here. And I…” He looked at Jane. “Well, Miss Bennet, you should take whatever time it is you need to recover. And if there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, just name it.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Bennet, looking surprised and pleased. “So, that is the way of things? Splendid. Very splendid indeed. Jane, do thank Mr. Bingley. Give him a smile.”
“That’s unnecessary,” said Mr. Bingley. “Miss Bennet must not be prevailed upon to do anything at all at present. She needs rest. She needs time.”
“Just so,” said Mr. Bennet. “But I wish to thank you, all the same, sir.” He offered Mr. Bingley his hand.
Mr. Bingley stood up and shook with him. “Between us, perhaps we can solve it all.”
“We would be most grateful for your assistance,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Not at all,” said Bingley.
* * *
“No, Darcy’s not here,” said Mr. Denny.
Mr. Bingley was at Denny’s door, inquiring
after Mr. Darcy. He was nearly dead on his feet after spending the whole night awake. After he had been so ineffectual at saving Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth from Mr. Wickham, however, he had hoped to be able to do something. Finding Mr. Darcy should have been easy enough.
Bingley had steeled himself for a conversation with his old friend. He did not know if he’d be able to convince Darcy of anything. Darcy had always been very much his own man. But he was going to try or be damned.
Except he couldn’t have the conversation with an absent Darcy. “Not here?”
“No,” said Denny.
“Well, where is he?” said Mr. Bingley.
“He said something about having affairs to settle in his personal life,” said Mr. Denny. “I got the impression he might be paying someone else to serve for him in the regiment. I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“Not coming back?” Bingley shook his head. “Well, of all the shameful, despicable things to do! I don’t know what’s become of Darcy, I truly don’t.”
“What has Darcy done?” said Denny.
“No, never mind,” said Bingley, turning to go. “I suppose if he’s gone, there’s nothing to be done about it.” Then he stopped. “Do you have any idea where he went?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” said Denny.
“Dash it all,” said Bingley. “I don’t even know where to send him a letter telling him to go to the devil.” Poor Miss Elizabeth. He stalked away, so perturbed that he forgot to wish farewell to Mr. Denny.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Mr. Darcy?” said a voice.
Darcy was coming down the steps from the Fitzwilliam townhouse. He had the deed to Hawthorne Abbey in his possession now. He’d head back to Hertfordshire and attempt to break up Elizabeth’s engagement. He eyed the man who was at the bottom of the steps. “Yes, I’m Mr. Darcy.”
“I’ve had a devil of a time finding you, sir,” said the man.
“Mr. Patkins?” said Darcy. “Is that you? From Pemberley?”
“You remember me, then?” said Mr. Patkins. “I must say, you look quite different. The years have changed you. I did not know if I had made much of an impression on you.”
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