by Robin Helm
Colonel Fitzwilliam joined them there, as he had decided to dine with them, sleep at Darcy House, and travel to Meryton in Darcy’s comfortable conveyance rather than ride horseback. To say he was eager to handle the business with Wickham would be a vast understatement.
The return journey to Netherfield was largely silent, as the three men elected to sleep rather than engage in conversation. The hot bricks under their feet and heavy blankets covering them soon had them comfortably warm as they drifted off.
However, as the sky began to lighten, Darcy stirred. “We are nearly to Netherfield,” he said, gazing out the window of the vehicle.
The gentleman sat up to tap his friend and nudge his cousin. “Wake up, Richard. We shall be there in a few minutes.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat up, yawning. “Why are you in such a confounded hurry, Darcy?”
The gentleman ignored him, staring out the window.
Bingley rubbed his eyes. “Our fiancées walk every morning and evening, and we escort them back to within sight of Longbourn. I told the grooms to watch for us and have our horses saddled and ready, for I feared we would be too late to meet them if we walked.”
“But they did not know to have a horse for me,” replied the colonel. “I had no idea you were so enthralled with your ladies. Can you not wait until we can make a proper morning call?”
“We already missed yesterday morning and last evening, and I have no intention of forgoing my opportunity to see Elizabeth now,” muttered Darcy. “You certainly do not have to join us.”
“Oh, but I insist. I must meet the paragon who has bewitched the unshakeable Fitzwilliam Darcy,” he answered, chuckling. “Why, you have been an absolute bear the entire trip. You must miss your Elizabeth a great deal.”
Darcy looked him squarely in the eyes. “’Tis Miss Elizabeth to you until we marry, and I feel her absence sorely. Do not raise my ire by flirting with her when you meet.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned as he raised his hands in mock surrender.
The carriage drew to a stop before the house, and the gentlemen climbed out to see a groom leading Bingley’s horse toward them.
“Where is Xanthos?” asked Darcy.
The young man hung his head. “I couldna saddle him, sir. He nearly bit me.”
Darcy strode toward the stables. “Come, Richard,” he said over his shoulder to his cousin. “They can saddle a horse for you while I handle Xanthos.”
“I shall wait for you, but hurry,” called Bingley, swinging up into his saddle to follow them. “The sun is beginning to rise.”
Before a quarter hour had passed, the three men were galloping to Oakham Mount.
Dawn broke as they reached the top of the hill.
“Where are they?” Darcy peered at the stretch of land before them.
“Perhaps they did not walk today,” answered Richard, covering his yawn with his hand.
Bingley shook his head. “My Jane always takes her morning exercise, and she knew I was coming back from London early to see her.”
“Perhaps she has overslept, or she could have a cold,” offered the colonel.
“They are not like the pampered ladies of London Society. Follow me,” said Darcy, kicking Xanthos to a gallop toward Longbourn.
As soon as he saw the tree, he was certain something was very wrong.
He pointed ahead. “There is no ribbon on that oak. Elizabeth promised to tie one there if they were ever unable to walk. She knew I would worry,” he said. “I have a terrible feeling about this. Something has happened to them.”
Darcy kicked Xanthos and raced toward the house, the other two men close behind him.
Mrs. Bailey came out the front door and stood on the porch, her frightened expression speaking for her. “Did you not meet Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth this morning? My girl was excited to see you, Mr. Darcy.”
His eyes widened. “When did they leave?”
“At their normal time, or a few minutes earlier. They were so happy you and Mr. Bingley would be home.” She wrung her hands as tears filled her eyes.
“I am Darcy’s cousin. What colours were they wearing, if you can remember?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Miss Elizabeth wore her red coat, and Miss Jane was in light brown.”
Darcy turned his horse. “We shall find them, Mrs. Bailey. Do not sound the alarm yet. Perhaps one of the ladies sprained an ankle. Have no fear. They shall soon be back here.”
She nodded, watching as the three men rode away.
If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.
I John 1:8
“Spread out!” Darcy yelled as they rode. “Look for any sign of a struggle!”
“I have the right!” shouted Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Darcy to the left, and Bingley up the center!”
They were midway to Oakham Mount when Darcy spotted a flash of colour and a few broken branches low to the ground amongst the trees. “I found something!” he called as he pulled Xanthos to a halt, flung himself from the horse, and raced to investigate, knowing the other men would be close behind him.
The sight before him chilled his blood. There, in front of him, lay Elizabeth’s soiled red bonnet, the ribbon torn and dirty, as if it had been ripped from her head and thrown roughly aside. His heart aching, he knelt to retrieve it and crushed it to his chest.
Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke quietly from behind him. “What have you found, Darcy?”
Darcy, grief-stricken, stood and held the bonnet out for his cousin to see. “This is Elizabeth’s. I have seen it many times before.”
“She is well, Darcy. There is no blood on it. Cousin, we shall find her,” said the colonel firmly. “And whoever did this to your betrothed will certainly pay.”
Bingley briefly put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, then ran further into the woods. “I see her! There! She is just in front of us!” he cried.
Darcy and the colonel ran toward his voice. Dear God, let her be unharmed.
Bingley had his front to them, on his knees, kneeling before a lady who sat tied to a tree. Her hair was hidden under a white bonnet.
Darcy held Elizabeth’s red bonnet in his hand, so he knew it was not his fiancée. His head down, he approached the lady and walked to stand in front of her.
Jane did not move, and his heart nearly stopped. Is she dead?
She opened her eyes and turned her frightened gaze upward to look up at him. Darcy saw to his relief that she was conscious.
“Jane,” moaned Bingley, his hands cupping her face. “Jane, my love. I am here.”
“Help me remove the ropes, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with authority from behind him. “Bingley, try to untie the gag. She appears to be unharmed, and she needs to tell us where her sister is.”
With Darcy’s assistance, Jane was quickly freed.
She put her hands over her eyes and began to cry. “He took her,” she choked out. “He said she would suffer,” she wailed. “He held a gun to her head and forced her to tie me up.”
Darcy closed his eyes in an effort to restrain himself. “Who took her? Was it Wickham?” He forced the words out.
Jane put her hands in her lap, nodded, and sobbed afresh. “He said he would come back for me, but he could not handle both of us at once. He said you would no longer want my sister when he is finished with her.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice was soft and gentle. “Dry your eyes, Miss Bennet. I promise you, we shall find your sister. All will be well, but we need any help you can give us. Did you see which direction Wickham went?”
“He wrenched her arm behind her back and took her in the direction I was facing. That way,” she said, pointing into the forest. “I watched until they were out of sight.” The tears rolled down her face while she wrung her hands.
Bingley moved to sit beside Jane as Darcy knelt before her, taking her cold hands in his. “Had he harmed her?” he asked quietly.
Jane nodded. “She cried out when he did
that to her arm, and he struck her across her face. Her nose was bleeding.” Her voice grew deadly quiet. “I hate him. God help me, I hate him! I have never felt this way about anyone else.” She wept into her hands. “How could he do that? My sister has done nothing to him – she does not deserve such treatment. He has taken leave of his senses.”
Darcy bowed his head, clenching his jaw. He did it to get back at me. Had she not agreed to be my wife, she would be safe at home right now. I would gladly pay any amount to have her back unharmed. Dear God, I pray she is not suffering.
Colonel Fitzwilliam tapped Darcy’s shoulder. “We must go now. Perhaps we can find her quickly. Bingley, is there a way for you to get her into Longbourn without being observed? Miss Bennet needs to be in a warm place with something to eat and drink, but I would rather not raise speculation or give way to gossip by apprising her family and the neighbourhood of these events.”
Bingley stood and held out his hand to Jane. “Come, dearest. We can take my horse to Longbourn and enter the back way. Your Mrs. Bailey will let us in the servants’ entrance.”
She took his fingers, allowing him to help her to her feet, her voice cracking as she spoke. “But what of Lizzy? I want to go with the colonel and Mr. Darcy. She will need me.”
Her fiancé shook his head. “No, my love. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be able to handle the situation better without us along. You are cold. I would not have you become ill, and neither would Miss Elizabeth. Come.”
Jane allowed him to lead her to his horse. He swung himself up into the saddle, reached down for Jane, and instructed her to put her foot in the stirrup. Then he helped her settle in front of him, holding her to him with an arm around her waist.
“We shall await you at Longbourn,” he said to the other men over his shoulder before they rode away.
Darcy mounted Xanthos and waited for Colonel Fitzwilliam. “North through the woods?”
“Yes. What lies in that direction?”
“I think Meryton first, and then the encampment farther on. Would he have taken her there?”
The colonel laughed bitterly as he leapt onto his horse. “I highly doubt that. No true English soldier would excuse his actions. He will have found some place to keep her hidden. I suspect he must report this morning or face disciplinary action, and he cannot go there with a gentleman’s daughter he has kidnapped. She is no tradesman’s girl. He could face execution for this. At the very least, transport to Australia.”
“I cannot stand to think of her alone, afraid, in pain,” Darcy replied, his voice rough, as he led the way through the trees.
Colonel Fitzwilliam rode up beside him, dodging trees while he scanned the ground. “This way. Look at that,” he said, pointing to disturbed soil. “She fought him every step. I wonder if she did it to leave a trail for us.”
“She is very capable of thinking of that, especially if she is angry rather than frightened,” answered Darcy.
“No shrinking violet, then?”
“Not my Elizabeth,” he answered. “She once told me that her courage rises with every attempt to intimidate her.”
“Good. She likely has need of her bravery,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, stopping short, leaning forward in his saddle. “Look yonder. A hut. What do you know of it?”
“Elizabeth mentioned it once as we were walking, but I have never explored the area very much. It belonged to an old man who lived alone. He watched the land for poachers, and reported them to the former owners of Netherfield, I think. ’Tis now uninhabited, if I remember correctly.”
“Then why do I see your betrothed’s tracks leading in that direction?” asked the colonel, edging his horse onward.
“She is in there,” Darcy replied in low voice.
“Just so. When we draw a little closer, we shall dismount and approach on foot, very quietly. No talking from this point on.”
Darcy nodded in agreement.
Soon they were on the edge of the trees surrounding the clearing, the hut in front of them. After they both jumped down and tied their horses to low branches, they bent low and crept closer to peek into a window.
Darcy’s heart thudded in his chest.
She lay on the filthy floor, her hands bound behind her, her ankles together, with a dirty cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her eyes were closed, and he could see blood on her face.
He started to stand, but his cousin put out a hand to stop him. Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled a pistol from his coat and gestured for Darcy to follow him.
They circled the small building quietly, keeping close to the ground, looking in each window until they arrived at the door.
“It appears she is alone,” the colonel whispered, “but we must be careful. Wickham could be hiding behind the door, waiting for us. He might hurt her even more if sees us and decides to use her for a hostage.”
Darcy drew his weapon from a hidden pocket in his greatcoat and cocked it. I will kill him if he touches her again.
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Let me handle this.”
Darcy glared at him, motioning forward.
The colonel sighed, pushing the door. The rusted hinges creaked loudly as it opened a bit.
There was no discernable movement beyond the door, so Colonel Fitzwilliam moved into the room a small distance, remaining mostly hidden.
An explosion shattered the silence, the shot whizzing just to the side of the colonel’s head.
Darcy grunted, his left hand flying to the fleshy part of his right shoulder.
The colonel looked behind him at the sound.
This is insanity, even for Wickham. He belongs in Bedlam. “No, Richard. Get Elizabeth!” Darcy shouted. “’Tis but a scratch.”
The door flew open, displaying Wickham a few feet away, just out of reach, pointing a double-barreled pistol at the two of them.
“Yes, Richard,” he spat, hatred in his eyes. “By all means, come in. While I despoil Elizabeth, we shall allow my childhood friend to watch.”
The colonel straightened up slowly, cocking his gun, levelling it to aim at Wickham’s head. “Have you completely lost your mind? Are you determined on your course, Wickham? You have a weapon, but both of us are armed. You may shoot one of us, but the other will shoot you, and we will shoot to kill. Right now, you are guilty only of kidnapping. Would you increase your sentence by murdering one of us or molesting a gentleman’s daughter?”
Wickham hesitated a moment, then quickly turned his pistol toward Elizabeth. Her eyes flew open and widened in fear.
“If you shoot me, I shall shoot her. She will die with me.” His eyes were bright with madness, a grotesque smile on his lips.
Darcy stepped around his cousin, firing his gun. As the shot struck Wickham’s gloved hand, he dropped his pistol and fell to the floor, moaning over his injury.
Darcy hastened to Elizabeth, untying her, checking for injuries, while Colonel Fitzwilliam strode to Wickham and towered over him. He kicked the weapon out of his reach, kneeling beside the injured man.
“You seem to have forgotten all those times we practiced shooting at Pemberley, you fool. One of us nearly always won. It was never you, and it was seldom me. Darcy was the crack shot. He bested you every time.”
Wickham looked up at him, malice in his expression, his voice unnaturally high. “He has very likely ruined my hand.”
The colonel chuckled, a threat in the sound. “You are a fortunate man. He could just as easily have put that shot between your eyes. He showed you mercy. I would not have done so. Darcy spared your life by shooting before I did.” He leaned over Wickham. “Get up. The colonel of your regiment will be most interested in your activities this day.”
Darcy looked up. “No, he cannot go back and tell what he did. Think a moment.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam glared at him. “I see your point. Why did you not simply kill him?”
“He spared him because he knew I would see it,” answered Elizabeth, standing to her feet with Darcy’s help. “Now, he sha
ll spare him again so there is no damage to my reputation, just as he did with his sister.”
“Tie him up securely. We shall leave him here while we decide what to do. I must take Elizabeth back to Longbourn. You shall follow us there. We shall talk with Mr. Bennet and lay a course of action.”
The colonel nodded, a glum expression on his face. “As usual, Wickham is far more trouble than he is worth. However, I shall have to take him to the encampment to have his hand treated, or he could bleed to death.” Colonel Fitzwilliam began to remove his cravat. “I can wrap it to slow the loss of blood.”
“He must not be allowed to speak of this. Can you prevent him?” asked Darcy.
The colonel smiled. “I will stay by him. Perhaps I shall make certain he is unconscious when we arrive, though I would rather he felt the pain of having his hand treated.”
“Fitzwilliam, your shoulder – the blood,” Elizabeth said in obvious distress. She bent over and tore the ruffle from the bottom of her dress. “Hold still while I tie this around the wound.”
Darcy allowed her to secure the bandage, knowing she would be upset if he did not allow it.
He frowned. “There is blood on your face, as well.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, doing his best to wipe away the stain from under her nose. “Let us go before I change my mind about killing him.”
She nodded, and they left the hut, bound for Longbourn while the colonel dealt with Wickham.
“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
And the opening of prison to those who are blind.
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”
