Elizabeth stared intently at the cottage nestled in the side of the hill. It sat on a plateau, and the craggy slopes held the small building tightly in their grip.
“Be this the one ye dreamed?” Mr. Jacks asked as he pulled up on the gig’s reins. When Elizabeth had insisted on searching for this place, Mr. Jacks had agreed to drive her rather than permit Himself’s wife to become lost like her sister. He was more familiar with the area than some of the younger Alpin workers were, and he had insisted that he could competently handle the carriage he had chosen for the journey. It had taken them over an hour to reach this deserted area of the moor.
“I believe it is,” Elizabeth said distractedly. She stared at the small window on the front of the cottage. “I wish I could see the left side to observe whether there is a window there as well.”
Jacks pointed to the rising smoke. “Someone be taking shelter within. Maybe we should be thinking twice before we venture forward,” he cautioned. “There be a rough sort roaming the moors, Ma’am.”
Elizabeth did not want to turn back. She had vividly dreamed of Georgiana in such a shelter, and she would not leave until she had proved herself wrong. “I mean to know whether Mrs. Fitzwilliam is within,” she said as she clamored from the carriage before Jacks could scramble to assist her. She dug in her reticule and pulled out a small pearl-handled pistol, which Darcy had given her on her last birthday. “Bring your musket, Mr. Jacks.” Elizabeth began to climb at a steady pace.
The incline was steeper than it appeared. Halfway up, the Scot caught up to her as she stopped to catch her breath. Being enceinte made it more difficult to maintain her momentum. “I see no movement from inside,” Jacks observed. “Whoever be within do not know we be coming.”
Elizabeth glanced about as she inhaled several deep, steadying breaths. “A person has a good view of the whole valley from here,” she said softly.
“Better to keep enemies in check.” Jacks supported her step. “Allow me to go first, Mrs. Darcy,” he said as he raised his musket higher.
Elizabeth stepped to the side to permit him easier access on the narrow path. Then her eyes caught the slightest of movements near a cluster of scraggily looking trees. “Mr. Jacks, what is that over in the bushes?” Her arm directed the man’s sight to the spot.
“Don’t know,” the man said gruffly, “but we best be finding out. Don’t want no surprises.” He led the way off the path and down the hill to the shrubbery. As they closed in on the place, he said sharply, “Well, I be.” He lowered his gun.
“What is it?” Elizabeth could not see around the man. She stepped further to the right for a better view. “A horse?”
Jacks shot a glance at the cottage. “Not just any horse, Mrs. Darcy, but the one Mr. Hurlbert, or whatever be the scoundrel’s name, rode out on right before you and Himself arrived at Alpin.”
Elizabeth, too, allowed her eyes to drift to the cottage. “The prayer the Devil answers,” she mimicked her husband’s favorite saying. She had no doubt that she had found Darcy’s sister, but this was an unexpected development. “Lieutenant Wickham is likely inside,” she said aloud to confirm her suspicions. She thought of Georgiana and of the number of years Darcy’s sister had suffered from the insecurities following her experience with George Wickham. She and Darcy had carefully guarded Georgiana’s encounters so there would be no opportunity for Darcy’s sister to “accidentally” encounter the man who had once shattered the girl’s illusions about romance. Now, Lieutenant Wickham likely had Georgiana cornered and at his mercy. Anger coursed through Elizabeth. “Mr. Jacks,” she ordered, “I want you to take the gig and find Mr. Darcy at the Ayrshire inn from which his last message came. Tell him that I have discovered Lieutenant Wickham’s whereabouts, and that the gentleman likely has Mrs. Fitzwilliam with him.”
“What be you planning, Ma’am?” Jacks asked suspiciously.
Elizabeth lifted her skirt and began to climb once more. “To keep my husband’s worst enemy away from his sister.”
Jacks caught up to her. “Himself won’t like this, Ma’am. I cannot allow ye to do this alone.”
Elizabeth turned on the man. “Mr. Jacks, you are wasting precious time and daylight. I mean to see to Mr. Darcy’s sister, and I insist you follow my orders. Lieutenant Wickham is my sister’s husband and my former suitor. He is a thief and a womanizer, but he is not a murderer.” Elizabeth shoved from her mind the nagging reminder of the man’s attack on Darcy just two days prior. “He will not harm me. Obviously, Lieutenant Wickham either is too injured to ride or he has no knowledge of the horse’s presence. The animal is not tethered where Lieutenant Wickham might make a quick escape. I shall have the element of surprise and this.” She palmed the gun. “But I shall need Mr. Darcy’s timely assistance. Now, shall I have the Earl sack you and Mrs. Jacks without a pension or will you do as I ask?”
The man shifted his gaze to the gig. “It likely be two or three hours before yer husband be arriving. Will you be well until then?”
“I have no doubt the time will fly by,” Elizabeth said ironically. Again, she began her climb. “Please hurry, Mr. Jacks. Mrs. Fitzwilliam is likely in distress.”
“Then I will take the horse and leave you the gig,” he said urgently from behind her.
Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips—a defiant stance she had learned from her mother. “Do you imagine that even with our combined strength that you and I could carry either or both of the cottage’s occupants down this incline without injuring them or ourselves? I need Mr. Darcy’s assistance, and I need it now. Do you understand?”
“What if Mrs. Fitzwilliam not be within?” Jacks protested.
Elizabeth stubbornness laced her tone. “Mr. Darcy’s sister is inside that cabin.” She gestured to the small, cozy-looking structure. “I know it here. In my heart.” Elizabeth touched her bosom. “I know it is true. I shall host no doubts, and neither should you.”
Jacks held her gaze for a brief moment before nodding his agreement.
“Then go,” she shooed him on his way. “And tether Lieutenant Wickham’s horse to that tree. I want to know where it is if I require it.”
“What are you about, Sir?” Her voice rose in apprehension.
Wickham smiled deviously. “I am removing these wet items before they bring on the ague.” He flipped the shirt from his body and over his head. “And you are welcome, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, to look your fill.”
“How dare you!” Georgiana accused. “You will act as a gentleman or you will leave this moment.”
Wickham sat gingerly upon a small stool and removed his boots. “It may not have occurred to you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, but I no longer take orders from the Darcys.” The first boot hit the floor with a loud “thwack.” “If my actions offend you, then I suggest that you should be the one to leave.”
“You know I cannot do that,” Georgiana said petulantly.
Wickham feigned real concern. “How will my leaving dissolve this dilemma? My departure would increase the possibility of my succumbing to a case of the chills. The choice of traipsing about in wet clothing on the damp moors lacks merit,” he reasoned. “Yet, if I stay, I will expose you to the seedy side of life.” He laughed softly. “I suppose you might cover your eyes for the next eight to twelve hours while my clothes dry.”
Georgiana retorted, “Your lack of empathy is noted, Sir.”
Wickham snarled, “Why should I care of your weak sensibilities? When have the Darcys ever given a second thought to what happened to your father’s godson?”
“Fitzwilliam has repeatedly provided you with a proper living, but like your mother, you have always wanted more than what even a generous spirit would allow.” Georgiana recalled her brother once telling Elizabeth, “Old Mr. Wickham’s conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him, and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed.” They had not realized that she had taken refuge in the window seat to reread
Edward’s latest letter. She had not expected Lieutenant Wickham to be the discussion topic between her brother and his wife. They certainly went out of their way to not mention the man before her. “My father supported him at school, and afterward at Cambridge—most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education.” Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had moved away, but Georgiana had cherished that bit of information because it had not only confirmed how foolishly she had acted in her affairs with Mr. Wickham, but also how fortunate she had been to have a family who loved her enough to forgive her schoolgirl mistakes.
“What do you know of my mother?” Wickham accused. “You were but a child when she passed.”
Georgiana wanted to correct his lie. Edward had confided in her—treating Georgiana as an adult in the wake of her failed elopement. It was likely the basis of her growing regard for her cousin. “Mrs. Wickham departed when you were still in the nursery. The lady ran off with a baronet. No one knows what became of her. Old Wickham searched everywhere. There was once a report of her living with an Italian diplomat, but nothing came of it.” She recited the gossip, which had surrounded her father’s steward, but the look of devastation that flitted across Lieutenant Wickham’s face softened her response. “I should not have repeated idle gossip,” she said repentantly. “It was incogitant of me to speak out of turn. You are correct, Sir. I have no personal knowledge of your home life before you lost your mother. Nor much of it afterwards.”
Wickham stood stiffly, but Georgiana took notice of the defeat in his shoulders. It was a moment she never expected to know. “We have returned to the issue of your feminine frailty.” He spoke with renewed contempt. “I am assuming you have looked upon a man’s body, and I will not shock you thoroughly.” He reached for the buttons along his placket.
Georgiana squeezed her eyes shut. “Lieutenant Wickham!” she gasped.
“What?” he taunted. “There was a time you wished to know me as your husband.” He openly chuckled. “I will promise to leave on my small clothes.”
“You will leave on more than that, Sir!” Elizabeth’s voice filled the cabin with loathing. “Opening that buttonhole shall be the last move you ever make.”
Georgiana’s eyes shot open. “Elizabeth! She said you would come for me, but I did not believe it possible!”
Wickham eyed the pistol pointing at his chest. “Mrs. Darcy. Kind of you to join us. Welcome, Sister Dearest, to our humble abode.”
One part of her had wanted to sing out in celebration when she had seen Georgiana sitting primly on the small bed, but the window had also revealed a half-naked George Wickham; Elizabeth’s instinct to protect those she loved accelerated. Dread filled her as she had edged the cabin’s door open far enough to hear Lieutenant Wickham threaten to disrobe before Darcy’s sister.
Without considering the best way to handle such a delicate situation, she had charged into the room and had threatened Lieutenant Wickham with the gun she carried. “Georgiana?” Elizabeth said cautiously. At this moment, she thoroughly despised Lieutenant Wickham’s devil-may-care attitude. In Meryton, she had known a congenial young man with a pleasing address. Yet, had she really known him? Who was this man who stood bare to the waist before her? Why had he assumed this persona? Could George Wickham truly have a bit of lechery coursing through his veins or was it some sort of show to keep others at arm’s length?
“I am well.” Georgiana’s words refocused Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Except that I seem to have a broken ankle.”
Despite her need to rush to Georgiana’s side, she said, “I assume you will conduct yourself as a gentleman, Lieutenant Wickham,” she warned.
“Of course, Sister Dearest, this is all in the family,” he said mockingly.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation. “If you call me ‘Sister Dearest’ again or do not cease this absurd mockery, I shall forget that I am a lady and shoot you just to wipe the smile from your lips.”
Wickham’s eyes widened. “As you say, Mrs. Darcy.”
“And cover up,” she gestured to his nakedness.
He started to protest, but Georgiana finished Elizabeth’s thoughts. “With this.” Her sister extended a small blanket to the room’s other occupant.
Graciously, Wickham offered a nod of gratitude and took the coverlet from Georgiana’s hands. “Much appreciated, Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” he mumbled.
Elizabeth motioned him away from Georgiana. “Could you see to the fire, Lieutenant Wickham?” she ordered as she came to stand between the man and Darcy’s sister.
“Lieutenant Wickham claims an injury to his ribs,” Georgiana said softly from behind her.
Elizabeth eyed her brother in marriage carefully. It would not surprise her if the man feigned an encumbrance to gain Georgiana’s sympathies. “Then please have a seat, Lieutenant Wickham. I shall see to Mrs. Fitzwilliam first; that is, unless you are in extreme pain.”
“The pain is intense,” he said with his usual flippancy, “but never let it be said that I put my needs above a lady’s.”
“No one could ever think such dastardly thoughts of you,” Elizabeth said sarcastically. She handed the gun to Georgiana. “If I were you, Sir, I would attempt a tone that rings truer than the one you have assumed.” She crossed to the still-open door. Stepping outside, she returned with three chunks of wood to add to the fire he had already started. As she bent to stir the flames and catch the kindling, she continued, “I am well aware of your attempt on Mr. Darcy’s life…”
“Elizabeth!” Georgiana gasped.
She glanced to the girl. “Your brother suffered no harm,” she assured Georgiana. Elizabeth stood and dusted off her hands. “But Mr. Joseph nearly lost his life because of Lieutenant Wickham’s selfish mantra. I am not likely to forgive the pain he has brought to poor Lydia, to my family, to the Darcys, and now to the Josephs.” She leaned down menacingly over the man and whispered close to his ear. “Please give me an excuse to shoot you, Brother Dearest. I have built up an arsenal of resentment where you are concerned.” Standing tall once more, she turned her attention to Darcy’s sister. “Now, Georgiana, permit me to see to your care.” Elizabeth knelt before the girl. “I expect you to avert your eyes, Lieutenant Wickham,” she said over her shoulder.
“And if I choose to ignore your request?” The man had lost some of his sauciness. Undoubtedly, he required her assistance, and he would not jeopardize what goodwill she was willing to provide him. Plus, as she was well aware, Lieutenant Wickham was a gambler. He would play the hand dealt him and bluff his way to win the pot.
Without looking at him, Elizabeth said deviously, “When Mr. Darcy presented me the gun Mrs. Fitzwilliam now holds, he obtained a similar one for his sister. I am ashamed to say that my husband’s sister exceeds my skills in hitting a target consistently.” Elizabeth squeezed Georgiana’s calf through the girl’s gown as a warning not to give away her deception. In truth, Georgiana feared guns. Her sister’s willingness to accept the one Elizabeth had placed in Georgiana’s hand was a true testament to the girl’s desperation. I see your bet and raise the ante, Lieutenant Wickham, Elizabeth thought.
A long pause said that Wickham considered his next move. “You are quite good at this game, Mrs. Darcy,” he said with respect.
“I learned my lessons well, Lieutenant Wickham. Now, please show Mrs. Fitzwilliam the respect she deserves.”
Chapter 20
ELIZABETH RAISED HER EYES to meet the deep blue of Georgiana’s. “I have never been so happy to see anyone.” She was on her knees before the girl. Instantly, Georgiana caught her up in a strong embrace.
“I had lost hope,” Georgiana whispered.
Elizabeth caressed the girl’s cheek. “You should know that neither your brother nor I would rest until we found you.”
“Where is Fitzwilliam?” Tears began to trek across Georgiana’s cheeks.
“Your brother will arrive shortly,” Eliza
beth said softly. She glanced to where Lieutenant Wickham obviously eavesdropped on their conversation. “As crazy as it sounds, I had a vision of where I might find you. When I described this place, Mr. Jacks located a groom who recognized my sketch of the cottage’s exterior.”
Georgiana grinned widely. “I believe it wholeheartedly. I had dreams of someone tending to my needs, and I imagined it was you. Actually, at first, I thought it was my mother.”
Elizabeth wiped away the girl’s tears. “Who says it was not Lady Anne? I am certain that the former Mrs. Darcy looks down fondly upon her children.” She kissed Georgiana’s cheek. “Now, allow me to tend your ankle; otherwise, the Major General shall have my head if you suffer further.”
Georgiana caught her breath on a sob. “Edward is here?”
“Oh, yes, the man is quite adamant about finding you quickly.” Elizabeth teased, “You must do something to calm our cousin’s surly nature.” She winked at Darcy’s sister before lifting Georgiana’s skirt to examine the girl’s ankle. However, she could not wipe the smile from your words when she noted how Georgiana sat taller and how the girl unconsciously tried to straighten her hair. “I expect both the Major General and Mr. Darcy shall shower you with affection.” Elizabeth braced Georgiana’s foot on her lap. “This is quite unique. However did you conjure up the idea?” She carefully turned the girl’s leg to admire the makeshift splint.
Georgiana giggled nervously. “I really do not remember how this came about. I woke from a dream in which I had tended my leg to find I had broken the chair and tied the rundles to either side of my ankle. Did I do it properly?”
“I would say that it was an exemplary effort.” Elizabeth untied a few of the cloth strips that Georgiana had, obviously, torn from her petticoat. She retied them carefully. “As it shall take some time to return you to Alpin Hall, it is probably best to leave your creative medicine in place. It shall assist the bone in healing faster. Do you have other injuries?”
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery Page 31
