by Jennifer Joy
Darcy paced in front of the door, waiting … hoping … praying the servant would return with the news that the false clergyman was in his room.
Nobody spoke, as if they knew what the outcome would be.
Lord Harvisham used the time to have his horse brought out to the front.
Just as the servant could be seen descending the stairs, the door to the music room burst open and Aunt Catherine bustled toward them, her ire stiffening her walk.
“I told you not to admit Mr. Darcy!” she hissed to the doorman before turning to Lord Harvisham. “I ought to have known you were behind this, Augustus. You have brought ostracism upon my household and I shall never forgive you.” Pointing her finger out of the door, she said, “You will leave!”
The servant arrived, breathless and shaking his head. “Mr. Collins is not in his room, sir. I have asked the others to search the house.”
“He has escaped,” mumbled Darcy.
Aunt Catherine fumed, her threats going unheeded. “Out, I say!” she repeated.
Lord Harvisham had every intention of leaving, but at her direct order he whipped around to face her. “I will leave of my own accord, Cathy. Your foolish stubbornness has blinded you into harboring a murderer in your home and refusing the help of those who would protect you and your precious reputation. I had hoped the passing years would have allowed some amount of wisdom to crack through the haughty veneer you use to mask your fear, but I see now that my hopes were unfounded. You are every bit as afraid of your peers as you were thirty years ago. And I pity you for it.”
Darcy descended the stairs, flanked on either side by Inspector Seymour and Lord Harvisham, leaving Aunt Catherine stunned in her entry hall.
The inspector ordered two of his men to guard the house while the others were to search for Mr. Madden in the usual places. Aunt Catherine offered no protest. When they mounted and rode down the street, she still stood at the top of the steps.
“Where are we going?” asked Lord Harvisham.
“Longbourn,” answered Darcy.
“Madden slipped away right from under our noses. He could not get a horse from the stable, knowing we were there. It will take him time. We may catch him yet,” said the inspector.
“How do you know he means to return to Longbourn?” Lord Harvisham pressed.
Darcy wished he was not so certain. Madden either knew they were after him and his time was short, or he had grown so confident he believed himself above incrimination. He had encouraged enough suspicion around Mr. Bilford and Mr. Hurst to believe it possible to continue on with his farce. A desperate action by a desperate man or a bold action by an overconfident criminal. Either option led him back to Longbourn.
Inspector Seymour answered, “It is the only place where his plan has gone awry. If he kills Mr. Bennet and inherits Longbourn, he can cast the blame elsewhere knowing himself capable of eliminating any proof against himself. By now, he surely hates the Bennets.”
Darcy knew better than anyone what hate could lead a person to do. He had thought Wickham to be evil, but he was a dove compared to Madden. To think he had intended to propose to Elizabeth!
Elizabeth … who was in danger with Georgie.
Elizabeth tossed and turned. Sleep would be impossible for her.
Only Father, who had drifted off to a deep, laudanum-induced slumber would truly rest that night.
The entire afternoon and evening had been spent waiting and watching, and she was bone weary from it. But though the servants stood guard and Mr. Tanner had placed himself nearby at the stables, giving him an uninterrupted view of both the house and the pathway leading to it, Elizabeth could not bring herself to close her eyes lest that dreadful man invade her dreams.
Pushing thoughts of Mr. Collins, or Mr. Madden … or whatever his real name was … Elizabeth thought of William. His steadiness brought her comfort, and the pounding in her temples dulled into a soft thrum. She pretended she was the heroine in one of the novels she enjoyed devouring between reading material of a more edifying nature. They would ride off into the sunset, him holding her firmly in his arms and her loose hair flowing through the gentle breeze. She felt her muscles melt into her mattress as she imagined the gentle, rocking rhythm of the horse.
Feeling safe wrapped in William’s arms, Elizabeth convinced herself of the benefits of rest. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? She would think clearer with a few hours of sleep. Besides, Mr. Madden was in London.
The coarse linen of her line-dried pillow rubbed against her skin, mimicking the stubble along William’s chin. With a sigh, she snuggled against him and, safely wrapped in his gentle embrace, Elizabeth closed her eyes.
Chapter 32
Elizabeth growled at the yipping dog beside her. She could not remember what she had been dreaming, but it had been delicious and warm. Very warm. Too warm!
Flinging her covers off her, she ran out to the hall where smoke burned her throat and stung her eyes.
Father!
She hastened to his room, the heat wavering and distorting her view. The Hills and Thomas, all in their nightshirts, coughed as they wrapped Father in blankets and pulled him off the bed.
“Oh, good, Miss,” shouted Mrs. Hill, waving her away from them. “We have Mr. Bennet. Help Betsy wake the ladies! We must get him downstairs before the flames block our path.”
Elizabeth did not need told twice. Racing to Lydia, she found her bed empty. Continuing to Mrs. Annesley’s room, she prayed she would find her there. The hall cooled slightly as she distanced herself from Father’s room. She turned when she heard groaning wood and scuffling feet behind her.
The servants carried Father with his helpless body cocooned inside blankets. Chloe ran back and forth under them. They were at the bottom of the stairs when Elizabeth heard a loud crack and the house trembled.
“Run!” she heard Mr. Hill shout. And she did run. There was no time to think, only to act. Her throat burned and her stomach twisted in nauseated knots, but Elizabeth pressed on.
Mrs. Annesley’s room was empty and Elizabeth continued down the hall to Georgiana’s room. Elizabeth clutched her stomach and forced herself to calm her nerves. She must keep her wits about her.
The two women were in Georgiana’s room. Mrs. Annesley shook her charge, pulling on Georgiana’s hands to get her to stand, but the girl laid limp in her bed.
Before she could ask, Mrs. Annesley said, “She is alive, but she does not wake.”
“Have you seen Lydia?” Elizabeth asked.
“She and the maid went to fetch help.”
Help which could not reach them now. Nor was there time to wait for a rescue. They were on their own.
Elizabeth lunged at the window, pulling the sticky pane up with all her might and welcoming the brisk air rushing in. “Let us draw Georgiana closer to the air. Maybe the smoke has overcome her.”
She had not realized how hot the house was until the approaching conflagration swallowed up the coolness she had felt just seconds before. The fire was fast approaching. They needed to get out now!
Georgiana’s head lulled from side to side as Elizabeth helped Mrs. Annesley drag the girl over to the window.
The smoke grew so thick, it was difficult to see. Unless they could escape from the house, they would all succumb to the flames.
Going through the house was out of the question. Their only option was the window. Elizabeth leaned out as far as she dared. She heard shouts coming from the other side of the house, but did not see anyone. They were on their own.
Pointing to the bedclothes, she shouted, “Tie these!” as she raced to Mrs. Annesley’s room for more linens. Grabbing the sheets from the bed, Elizabeth carried them in a bundle in her arms, joining them to Mrs. Annesley’s bunch and tying one end to the foot of the bed. She then knotted the last sheet in a loop and tugged it tightly.
Holding her makeshift rope to Mrs. Annesley, she said, “You go down first. Georgiana will need someone to catch her.”
Mrs. A
nnesley did waste time to argue. As soon as she reached the bottom, she held her arms up to receive Georgiana.
Elizabeth wrapped the sheet around Georgiana as well as she could, finding a strength in her trembling arms she had never known herself to possess. Lifting Georgiana to the window, she held onto the sheet so as to let her down easily. Her arms ached and shook, but she held fast to the sheets, lowering them inch by inch. She could no longer see Mrs. Annesley on the ground beneath her. She was blind. But she felt when the sheet wrenched loose from her hands and she heard the cry below.
Grasping around her, Elizabeth felt for the window and leaned out, filling her lungs with night air and searching the ground for Georgiana. If anything happened to her….
Elizabeth swooned. The arms which had felt as strong as iron now weighed so heavy, she did not know if she could bear her own weight. But she had to. It was her only option. The sheet was gone and she had no other option.
She coughed, gasping for breath in the smoke burling through the room and out of the window. It was now or never.
Elizabeth grasped the ledge of the window, her body scraping over the side the frame. Her nightgown tangled around her legs, only freeing as she dangled from the edge of the window on the side of the house. There was no ledge to balance on; no tree limbs she could reach for; no soft landing in a pile of hay at the bottom… She was stuck; completely at the mercy of Longbourn’s walls and the fire consuming them.
Darcy smelled the smoke. His pulse raced and no horse could carry him fast enough.
When he saw the flames darting from one side of Longbourn, spreading to overtake the entire house, he cried out. Like ants in the darkness, people scurried with buckets in an attempt to control the inferno engulfing the west walls of the house.
As he galloped down the road, he heard Chloe’s shrill bark and followed it to see Mr. Bennet with Miss Lydia by the stables.
Tanner carried Georgiana over to them, setting her carefully down where Mrs. Annesley cradled her head in her lap by Miss Lydia, who did the same for Mr. Bennet. Chloe licked his face and he swatted her away half-heartedly. Pouncing on Georgiana, Darcy heard his sister cough and the panic balled in his stomach eased at the sound. She was alive. His family was well … except for one.
He looked around, first quickly, then slower when he did not see her.
Where was Elizabeth?
He stopped only long enough to shout, “Elizabeth?”
Mrs. Annesley pointed to the house. Tanner, his arms recently free, shouted, “Go, Darcy! You will reach her before I can.”
It was too dark and the smoke so thick, Darcy almost missed her. Elizabeth’s sooty nightgown blended into the walls.
His mount shied, refusing to approach the burning house. Shedding his coat, Darcy wrapped it around the horse’s eyes and led him onward, stopping when he was directly beneath Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth,” he called up to her. If he stood in the stirrups, his fingers might reach her feet.
“William!” she gasped hoarsely.
“Let go. I will catch you.” He had hardly finished his sentence when her body slammed into him, and it took all of his strength to soften the blow to her and keep his mount from bolting. But he managed.
The feel of her warm body against his, safe at last, enveloped him with a protective ferocity that if not for her softness would have sent him after Madden. The violence rising in his breast, second in intensity only to the love for the woman cradled in his arms, would beat the villain to a bloody pulp.
He could have rested Elizabeth by her father and his sister, but he could not bear to part with her. And she clung to him like a bur, her fingers wrapped in his collar and the hair grazing it.
“Did they make it out?” she whispered to him.
“Your father is safe by the stables with Miss Lydia.”
She cried out, “Lydia! I could not see her,” she gasped through a sob. Her body shook and Darcy held her closer. “The stairs fell and Georgiana did not wake.” She wiggled agitatedly in his arms, looking about.
Directing his horse to the stables, Darcy said, “Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley are with your father. They are all safe.”
“She fell. The blanket tore and I could not hold it,” she clawed at his arms, trying to see, sobs escaping her until she saw her family sprawled out over the grass beside the stables.
“See? She is well. Tanner was carrying her when I saw them. He must have caught her. They are safe. All of them are safe.”
Elizabeth’s breath came in heaves, as if her body was purging itself of panic. Darcy could not let her go yet, nor could he pull away from her family to find Madden or help calm the flames. He was stuck, but there was no where he would rather be. They were safe, and he had the best of friends to see to the rest.
Finally, Elizabeth’s tears subsided and she seemed to melt into him, her body molding so perfectly in his lap, he wished he could carry her away that instant.
“Not quite what I had imagined, but it will do,” she mumbled into his chest, rubbing her stained cheeks against his soft cravat.
“How you imagined?” he asked, going around to the other side of the house to see Lord Harvisham call the servants away. Behind the crowd, lay a motionless heap guarded by Inspector Seymour. Madden.
“My hair was supposed to flow in silken strands in the breeze as we rode away,” she said, her voice raspy.
Her hair was matted to her head. If Darcy tried to run his fingers through it, they would become entangled and he would have to pull to free them. Certainly not the romantic scenario Elizabeth described.
Still, he could not resist tugging on a chunk of curl near her waist, wrapping his finger around it. After a couple of twirls, the grit wiped off, leaving her curl silky and smooth.
“We were supposed to ride off into the sunset,” she continued.
“Will the sunrise do?” he asked.
She turned away from his chest to look at the horizon and he resisted the urge to press her back against him. Fortunately, she was in no hurry to leave and nestled back into her spot.
“Dawn is not for at least another hour. Unless you plan to hold me for another hour, I fear your plan is faulty.”
“I do not intend to set you down until I absolutely must. I see no fault in that.”
A loud explosion splintered the night air and he halted his horse half-way between the injured residents and the water line created by the servants. Everyone stopped and looked helplessly at Longbourn as the ceiling crumbled and the flames licked around it, swallowing what had once been a loving home.
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I knew it! Did I or did I not declare that my house would be next?”
Miss Lydia bathed his face with water from a bucket. In a droll voice, she said, “You are a regular seer, Papa. Next time, do try to prophesy to our advantage.”
Clasping her hand, he said, “I have all I need with me. My girls are safe. My guests are unharmed.”
“But Papa, your books! Our home! My collection of ribbons!” protested Miss Lydia.
Mr. Bennet smiled bravely. “All of which can be replaced, my dear. Despair not. Longbourn is gone, but she shall rise again.” His voice shook. Whether it was with passion or repressed sadness, Darcy did not know, but it infused them with the quality they most needed. Hope.
Elizabeth’s eyes looked blindingly white against the soot covering her face. He had always believed them lovely, but never more than now. Without a care as to who might witness them, he kissed her.
She clung to him, breathing him in as if her life depended on it, and undoing him as thoroughly as she had done when they had been pressed together in Bingley’s library. Only now was infinitely better. She was in his arms because she wanted to be there.
When she nibbled on his lip, he groaned.
Elizabeth pulled away, “What? Am I doing it wrong?”
Bless her innocence. “No, my love. You are perfect.”
“Hardly!” she chortled.
He smile
d at her. “Perfect for me.”
“Now, that, I cannot argue with. I love you as you are, and you have proved yourself determined to love me despite my faults.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. “There is nothing more to it, Mr. Darcy. We shall be imperfectly perfect together. Our marriage will be a happy one.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I will see to it.”
She ran her fingers over his cheek and picked at his cravat until he forgot where they were and what had transpired. All that mattered was her touch.
“As will I, William.”
Chapter 33
William’s arms and Father’s words gave Elizabeth strength enough to think clearly. She hated to depart from William’s protective embrace, but there were several matters requiring their immediate attention.
Sliding to the ground, she watched William hand his horse off. She expected him to join Inspector Seymour, who stood over his prisoner triumphantly, but she was pleased when William followed her. From the looks of him, Mr. Madden would not go anywhere soon. He could wait while they saw to their family.
Father pretended to be annoyed at Chloe for her attentions.
“She will miss chewing on my slippers. They are all gone,” he said cheerfully, smoothing the rebellious tuft of fur at the top of her head with one hand and patting Lydia’s hand consolingly with the other.
Poor Lydia. She did not wail aloud, but the trail of tears running down her cheeks was plain to see in the glow of the fire.
“Chloe is a hero. If not for her barking, we would not have had time enough to escape. I will gladly purchase a set of slippers for the sole purpose of her enjoyment,” said Elizabeth.
Lydia wiped her sleeve across her face. “She is a clever thing, is she not?” She ruffled the tuft Father had just smoothed.
William added, “This is the sort of story people enjoy reading. I do not doubt that Chloe and her proud owner will be sought out for an interview in the Hertford newspaper.”
Elizabeth spun around to share her joy at his thoughtful suggestion for Lydia’s benefit. She had no doubt William would send a letter by messenger to the newspaper that same day. Oh, how she loved that man!
