Mr. Darcy's Little Sister

by C. Allyn Pierson

  “I am sure you are right, my dear, but what can be done about it? Women are not as strong as men and cannot fight them by physical means.”

  “No, but they should not have the power to control us with the threat of scandal and public ruin. These men know very well that if we escape we will not want to bring them to justice for fear of sullying my reputation and standing in society, so they are safe from retribution by legal means.”

  Mrs. Annesley embraced her reassuringly and they turned to their usual attempts to fix their hair and wash, their conversation lagging. As she tried to untangle her hair with her fingers, Georgiana was repulsed by the greasy, stringy feel of the unwashed mass tumbling to her waist.

  “My hair is positively disgusting. What I would give for a bath!”

  Mrs. Annesley agreed, “Yes, I am feeling very dirty, and sleeping in our clothes has not helped their appearance.”

  They finished their tasks and sat on the edge of the bed to await their breakfast, which was not long in coming. Again, Mr. Walker was shoved unceremoniously into the room in front of the wizened old woman who brought the food. Walker’s shackles were off his ankles, but his hands were still bound. When the door had slammed and the lock clicked shut behind the old woman, Walker greeted the two ladies:

  “Good morning, ladies. As you can see, I am still a guest in this fine establishment.” He bowed over Georgiana’s hand and she could smell the clean scent of French-milled soap coming from his hair, which was tousled but did not appear greasy. She jerked involuntarily and then tried to smile to cover her confusion. Walker noted her start.

  “Are you well, Miss Darcy? You look pale.”

  “Y-yes, I am fine. I am not surprised that my looks have suffered during my ordeal.”

  “It would take a great deal to damage your looks, Miss Darcy.”

  She flushed with embarrassment and looked down at her hands. As she did so, she noticed Walker’s boots. They were not the same boots he had worn the day before. Both pairs were black, but these had a more rounded toe than the ones he had worn previously. She had particularly noticed the toes because she had been staring down in embarrassment while he was complimenting her courage, but she also noticed that there were no scrapes or gouges in the leather, as there would have been after many hours in shackles.

  She gently took back the hand he was still holding and went to get Mrs. Annesley some porridge. While her back was turned and the others were chatting about inconsequential matters, she reviewed the events over the past few days frantically in her mind, her shaking hands automatically spooning the porridge into bowls. She could think of several circumstances which struck her now as incongruous, and she felt as if the scales had dropped from her eyes. What were the chances that an acquaintance would have witnessed their abduction? Why would the kidnappers allow him to follow them to the isolated house when they evidently knew he was there, judging by his immediate capture? Why would the gaolers be so kind as to rid Walker of his leg irons, other than to make it easier for him to “escape?” She had no answers to her questions, but when she turned back to Mrs. Annesley with her companion’s breakfast, she had succeeded in controlling her visage, and she was able to converse normally, she thought, with Walker.

  Mr. Walker was dragged out of the room after the meal, and Georgiana stood at the window, trying to see through the slats of the shutters. She decided not to tell her companion about her suspicions; the elderly Mrs. Annesley was far too artless to keep up the pretence of ignorance. Frankly, Georgiana was even less adept at subterfuge, but she could not return to the previous day’s innocence, so she must mask her knowledge for both their sakes.

  ***

  Elizabeth awoke at dawn on the third day after the kidnapping and stared bleakly at the hangings which covered her bed. The colonel had been unable to find any witnesses to the abduction, and his efforts to confirm Walker’s innocence had been unavailing. He had called in the afternoon of the day after Georgiana’s disappearance and told her abruptly, “I did not find anything in the park that helped in our search and I can prove neither Walker’s innocence nor his guilt. He is supposedly visiting friends in the country, but Sir Robert does not know their name.”

  He had rubbed his hand over his face, and she had noticed the dark circles around his eyes.

  “May I get you a drink, Colonel? Or perhaps a cup of tea?”

  “Thank you, tea would be fine—if I can swallow it. I feel as if I am choking on my anger and guilt.”

  “Guilt?” she had said, her brows lifted.

  “Yes. The first time I have had sole responsibility for my ward and I have lost her. I do not know what I am going to tell Darcy.” He had stared up at the ceiling and blinked several times. “And poor, sweet Georgiana. What she must be feeling now, abandoned by those she trusts.”

  Elizabeth had set down her teacup with a crash. “Colonel, there is no purpose in blaming yourself; I am the one who was most responsible for Georgiana’s well-being. If there is any fault, it is mine. In any case, blaming ourselves will not return Georgiana to us.”

  The drawing-room door had opened and Burton had entered with his silver salver and offered it to the colonel.

  “A message just arrived for you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sent from Lord Whitwell.”

  He had picked up the missive and thanked Burton. After the butler had returned to the hall, he had unfolded the earl’s fine notepaper and examined the enclosed note folded inside, and Elizabeth had joined him. There had been nothing distinctive about the notepaper, which appeared to be of the cheapest sort, but he seemed reluctant to open it. She had looked up at him curiously, and he hurriedly opened the seal, which had been pressed with a large thumb to hold the folded paper closed.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam,—

  We have your ward, Miss Darcy. We will return her unharmed as soon as you pay us £10,000. You have two days to gather the money. We will contact you then. Do not attempt to find us or you will be sorry, and so will she.

  The letter was unsigned and the writing was crude in appearance, in contrast to the educated spelling and grammar.

  Elizabeth had felt the blood drain from her face.

  “How will we obtain that much money, especially with my husband gone?”

  “I will go to my father immediately. Perhaps he can convince the bank to lend him the money, but two days is not long.”

  “I suppose the longer they hold Georgiana, the more chance there is that they will be discovered.” She had felt her stomach lurch and had quickly sat down, covering her face with her hands.

  “Should I call your maid, Mrs. Darcy?”

  Elizabeth had shaken her head. “No, I will be fine. Go quickly to your father. He is undoubtedly as undone as we are; I do not wish to keep him in suspense.”

  He had looked at her for a moment with concern then turned and left. She had remained sitting for several minutes, she then forced herself to drink her tea and return to the needlework he had interrupted, but her hands were shaking too much for her to control the needle and she soon gave up.

  The remainder of the afternoon and the next two days had crept by with agonising slowness, without news of either Georgiana or Walker. Lord Whitwell was negotiating with his bank for a loan, secured by the deed to Longford House, which was not bound in the entail on his estate, and the colonel was still trying to gather information from his agents. Those who had gone to Gretna Green had come back empty-handed. There was no sign of anyone fitting Georgiana’s or Mrs. Annesley’s description, and their watch on the roads had failed to bring any further sightings.

  Elizabeth, without an active part to undertake in the rescue of Georgiana, spent her days pretending to attend to her usual duties while she went over the details of her sister’s abduction again and again. She needed to suppress her natural irritability over her lack of any useful task to assist the men and pretend to be calm and unperturbed.
Lady Whitwell, also without a role in this crisis, visited her and they talked about Georgiana and her ordeal frequently. Her support was a great comfort for Elizabeth and made the maddening hours pass more quickly.

  On the fifth morning, Elizabeth rang early for Lambert and dressed in a morning robe. She stared at her face in the glass while Lambert tidied her hair, her eyes dark-circled and haunted and her cheeks pale, and then turned away from the sight. While she was picking at her breakfast, Burton entered with his salver.

  “A letter, Mrs. Darcy.”

  She picked up the familiar coarse envelope and nodded to Burton, who bowed and left after one long, backwards glance. She opened the letter and read:

  Miss Darcy is eager to return to her home. Mrs. Darcy will carry the money to St. Paul’s Cathedral in a satchel at one pm today and wait to be contacted. She will come alone. If there is any sign that she is accompanied you will never see Miss Darcy again.

  Elizabeth felt a cold chill and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her. She must find the colonel, and quickly. She hurried out to the hall and said, “Burton, the carriage. I must go to Longford House immediately.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  The carriage raced through the early morning streets and she stepped down in front of Longford House within minutes. It was the work of seconds to acquaint Lord and Lady Whitwell of the most recent letter, and Lord Whitwell sent upstairs for the colonel, who had been staying with his parents during this threat to the family. When he came downstairs, his eyes still puffy with sleep (or more likely lack of it, Elizabeth thought), he read the letter through twice.

  “There is no way on earth that you are going to put yourself in the power of these criminals.”

  Lord Whitwell nodded in agreement.

  “No indeed. We will not risk you, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “But why do they want me to deliver the money?”

  The colonel chewed on his lower lip, a mannerism startlingly like that of his ward, Elizabeth thought with surprise as she waited for him to speak.

  “They probably feel that Mrs. Darcy is less likely to be a threat, which is undoubtedly true, because of my feelings at the moment.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him and saw the barely contained flicker of fury in his eyes again. She spoke up, “I will deliver the money. We have no choice.”

  They continued to argue over the details of the payment in Lord Whitwell’s library, while they awaited the arrival of the money from the bank, until Lady Whitwell, who had maintained a shocked silence during the entire conversation, said, “Do not argue about it any more. Mrs. Darcy is willing to risk her life for Georgiana, as we all are. She will do what needs to be done to obtain Georgiana’s return. Instead of arguing whether she should be allowed to do it, we should be trying to determine how to protect her safety as much as we can under the circumstances.”

  The two men stared at her then tacitly gave in and began discussing whether they could place several men inside St. Paul’s vast interior while awaiting the arrival of the bank officer with the money in the late morning.

  ***

  The banker had just departed from Longford House after delivering the £10,000 when there was a peal from the doorbell, and seconds later the library door burst open to reveal Jonathan Walker, dishevelled and dirt smeared, his hands bound with shackles. Hanford fluttered behind him, looking shocked.

  “Please. I know where Miss Darcy is.”

  They all stared narrowly at him as he gasped out, “They captured me after I followed their carriage from the park. I had been riding just before dark. I did not know it was Miss Darcy until later, I just saw two women pulled into a carriage. It was only today that I was able to escape from the house. You must come with me. They will know that I am free and we must get there before they can move their hostages.”

  The colonel called for the carriage. Lord Whitwell hurried after him, saying, “I will go with you.” Fitzwilliam stopped abruptly and said quietly to his father, “No, I will go alone. You must get the ransom money ready and take Mrs. Darcy to St. Paul’s if I do not return before the time. If the man who is to pick up the ransom has already left the house where they are holding Georgiana we will miss him there, and he must think everything is going as planned if we are to capture him. It is also possible that he may have someone watching the house.”

  His father nodded his reluctant agreement and returned to the library and the two ladies as the hooves of the horses and the carriage wheels thundered over the cobblestone streets.

  ***

  In their prison, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley were well aware of Walker’s escape. Their gaolers had “discovered” his absence first thing in the morning and burst into the ladies’ room to check on them. The door was relocked and their breakfast had been forgotten in the noise and confusion in the yard outside. Georgiana sat carefully on the bed, turning this latest event over in her mind as the minutes and hours ticked by silently. Mrs. Annesley tried to distract her with inconsequential chatter, but Georgiana did not even hear her.

  The afternoon arrived with the abrupt entrance of the taller gaoler, his face contorted in what Georgiana thought was supposed to be a grin, his yellow teeth horrible in his unshaven face.

  “’eres your breakfusses, ladies. Don’t you be thinkin’ that your young man’s escape is going to help ye. We be pickin’ up the ransom today then we’ll be gone before he can get to town and back.”

  Georgiana plucked up her courage and asked, “And what will happen to us?”

  He smiled more broadly. “Oh, you don’t need to worry, miss. You’ll be taken care of.”

  She repressed the shudder she felt at his words and stared him in the eye until he turned and left them, carefully locking the door again. They ignored the inevitable bowl of tasteless porridge, and Georgiana spent the next hours pacing the tiny room. Suddenly, in the mid-afternoon, she heard the sound of racing hoofbeats on the road outside. There was an explosion of sound in the outer room and then sudden silence. A brief sound of harsh voices ended with the sound of boot-clad footsteps, and in a moment the door to their room burst open, revealing Colonel Fitzwilliam, a pistol in his right hand. He wavered a moment when he saw her then his lips formed the name “Georgiana.”

  She ran to him and he clasped her roughly to his left side and looked at his cousin’s companion.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Annesley?” His voice was quiet and calm, but Georgiana, looking up at him, saw the steel in his normally placid blue eyes.

  “We are both very well, Colonel, but quite ready to return home,” said Mrs. Annesley.

  He gave her a brief smile and said, “Let us go then.”

  They had started towards the door when several shots rang out. Colonel Fitzwilliam shoved Georgiana behind him. He called out, “Walker?”

  “Yes, Colonel. You may come out. Do not bring the ladies out yet.”

  The colonel released Georgiana from the painful grip he had on her and motioned them to stay in the bedroom. He disappeared through the door and they heard a brief murmur of voices before the colonel reappeared.

  “The kidnappers are dead. They tried to attack Walker.”

  He swung Georgiana up in his arms and said, “Keep your eyes closed. You should not see this.”

  Georgiana pushed her face into the breast of his coat and felt his hand on the back of her head, crushing her face to his chest. She felt him turn and heard his voice as he spoke to Mrs. Annesley, “If you will wait in the bedroom, I will return for you.”

  Mrs. Annesley said, “Thank you, Colonel, I prefer to risk the horrors of that room than stay in this bedroom a moment longer.”

  “Then put your hand on my shoulder and look straight ahead as we go out.”

  The colonel walked quickly down the hall, through the outer room and out of the door. Georgiana could feel the fresh air on her face before he loosed his h
old and put her gently on her feet. Walker was standing in front of the outer door, his arms hanging loosely at his side, his fingers barely gripping the two pistols in his hands. Fitzwilliam said curtly, “Get a grip on yourself, Walker; we need to get the ladies out of here.”

  His voice seemed to rouse Walker, who looked up at Georgiana in shock and said abruptly, “Yes, we must get them out of here. This is no place for a lady.”

  They entered the carriage and in minutes were racing for town.

  After a few minutes the colonel broke into Georgiana’s thoughts, “Are you sure you are unhurt, Georgiana?”

  “Oh… oh, yes, I am fine.” She smiled awkwardly at him. “But I would dearly love a bath. You may want to sit on the other side of the carriage until I have had one.”

  He laughed, a short bark of surprise.

  “I believe that I can tolerate you even unwashed, little cousin. I am not letting you more than arm’s distance away until we are safely home.” He managed a twinkle in his eyes. “I thank God that I did not have to tell your brother that you were snatched away on my watch and I was unable to find you.”

  She smiled at him, a hint of mischief returning to her pale face.

  “No, that would be frightening would it not?”

  “Indeed. We must be very grateful to Mr. Walker. He came to us as soon as he could after his escape so we could rescue you.”

  “Did he?”

  He looked a little surprised at her cool answer, and she forced a smile at Walker.

  “We are most thankful for our safety and your part in ensuring it, Mr. Walker.”

  He gave her a humble smile and said, “It was my pleasure to be of assistance to you and Mrs. Annesley.” He bowed to both of them, and Georgiana closed her eyes and leaned against the colonel’s supporting arm until the wheels rattled onto the cobblestones of town. She opened her lids to a narrow slit and observed Jonathan Walker. He was staring out of the window, the picture of stunned grief, his dishevelled hair and smudged face a tragic mask of regret.