by Linda Wells
“But he had a son.” Elizabeth said softly.
Wickham shrugged. “All I know is that suddenly I had fine clothes and a new pony.”
“How old were you?” He again cocked his head at her, reading her face. Nobody ever asked him about his childhood.
“Eleven. We are almost the same age you know. I am older.” Again his fingers stroked over her breasts. “He called me Son.” Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to ignore his touch and suddenly her chin was raised by his hand. Wickham’s eyes burned into hers. “His ELDEST son.”
Beginning to understand Wickham’s delusion of a birthright, she tried to distract him from his obvious anger. “What happened when Mrs. Darcy died?”
“We went to school and always roomed together. Darcy was the perfect student, always winning the prizes, trying to make his Papa proud.” He laughed derisively and stepped slightly away from her, but took her hand and held it tightly.
Looking down at his grip she swallowed. “You did not like to study?”
“Why study when I could just take his work as my own? He would never complain. He knew I was his father’s favourite.” A smile of intense satisfaction came over his face, and he let go of her hand to begin stroking over her hips. “I enjoy taking things that are his. I enjoy seeing his face in misery.” She could see that he was losing interest in the conversation. She desperately sought to make him talk again, but at the same time she felt her strength fading, it was so painful to stand. “He did not wish to lose his father’s favour?”
Ignoring the question he continued running his hands over her. “Did you know that his father told me to harass him? He told me to force him to fight back, to keep pushing him. He paid me to do what I would have done on my own!” He laughed.
“Why?” Her anguish for William inspired a deep dislike for his father.
“To make a man of him.”
“But you were boys!” She cried and Wickham glared at her.
“He told me that if Darcy did not improve he would prefer to leave Pemberley to me since I WAS a man.” He smiled again. “I have great plans for Pemberley.”
Elizabeth watched him, knowing instinctively that this was not the truth, but his delusion of it. She knew only that she must keep him talking. “But what of your family?”
“My father died when I was seventeen, just as I finished at Eton with Darcy. My mother remarried. Mr. Darcy kept me as his ward.”
“What about your time at Cambridge?”
Wickham scowled. “I no longer frightened him. He was stronger and learned too many ways to avoid conflict. He had many influential friends. He still paid my debts and covered my … adventures, likely out of loyalty to his father, but no matter what I did, he never folded. Nothing I did ever got under his skin again. He never lost control. His father’s attitude was changing too.” Elizabeth did not hear the bitterness intensifying in Wickham’s voice, she was envisioning the man she loved being formed, no longer a boy to be abused; and far better than the creature before her could even dream of being. Her pride for William and his strength grew.
Wickham was watching her face. She was thinking of Darcy, he could see it in her expression. The love was undeniable, she glowed with it, and the sight infuriated him. He could not stand to see Darcy happy. His eyes grew dark with anger. “He told me for years … YEARS, that I was his son. He gave me everything, clothes, money, women, everything I wanted. I acted the fool for him, praising him, stroking his pride … And what did he leave me? A pittance and a living as a parson! After what he promised me! He promised me Pemberley!! I want it! I EARNED it! Darcy TOOK it from me!” Reaching forward and taking her hips, he pulled her against him, and kissed her roughly. “Now it seems that I will take something of HIS.”
Wrenching away, her fear provided the courage to fight him again. “YOU squandered what was given you!”
His eyes narrowed; he had delayed long enough. “You are playing with fire. Your life is in my hands. You had best learn obedience.” He pressed his body to hers and stroked his hands down her hips, the knife still firmly in his grasp.
Elizabeth looked desperately over his shoulder, saw Georgiana standing helplessly watching, clutching a branch but clearly terrified to use it; and searched for any sign of William’s approach. Where are you? She began to lose hope. “Go, just go.” She begged.
Wickham saw her gaze, and how she was weakening. He moved one hand up through her hair. “I see why Darcy wants you. You are everything he is not.”
Her head snapped back up. “He IS a gentleman. You are dirt under his feet!”
Furious Wickham held the knife back to her throat. Georgiana screamed. “He would never fight for you like this!” Elizabeth flinched then spotted movement in the trees.
Defiant, she declared. “You do not know him!”
His eyes were wild. “He is a coward!”
“You are speaking of yourself!” Elizabeth looked up and feeling a surge of hope, she tried to grab the knife from his hand. He slapped her hard across the face and threw her down on the ground.
THE MEN RODE into Longbourn’s yard and came to a halt. Darcy jumped off of his horse and opening the door, strode in, following the voices to find the family gathered in the sitting room. Mr. Bennet came forward. “Mr. Darcy, you came very quickly. Your sister and Lizzy are upstairs.” Mr. Bennet led the way and they arrived at the guest room to find the door ajar. Confused, Mr. Bennet stepped in and saw that it was empty.
Darcy turned to him and demanded, “What is the meaning of this, sir? Where are they?”
“I do not know.” He looked about for any signs, seeing only the mussed bed.
Richard had followed them up and scanned the empty room. “Are they nowhere in the house?” Darcy shook his head then spotted a maid coming down the hall. Susie appeared in the doorway.
“Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, but Miss Elizabeth asked me to give you this when you arrived, and said that you can find her by the stream you visited.”
His brow wrinkled in confusion, then he read Georgiana’s note and swore. Richard snatched it from him. “Good Lord! She could not be serious!” He looked at Darcy’s face. Shock, worry, and anger warred for dominance of his expression.
“Thank God Elizabeth has gone to her.” He turned to Susie. “How long has Miss Elizabeth been gone?”
“No more than half an hour, sir.” She stared at the men with wide eyes.
“Come on Richard, I think that I know where to go.” He glanced at Mr. Bennet and began to leave the room.
“Do you think that she would … ?”
Darcy stopped. “Georgiana has a habit of running away and hiding when she is distressed. Do you remember her doing that at Pemberley when you were visiting? I am counting on the hope that she is overwrought by what she experienced in Meryton and wrote that note without thought. Of course Elizabeth would see it as a serious declaration and go after her.”
“Perhaps it is a serious declaration, Darcy.” Richard turned to the window and scanned for any sign of the women. He looked at Susie. “Did you see Miss Darcy leave?”
Susie nodded. “Yes sir, she was walking quickly.”
“Was Miss Darcy carrying anything?”
She shook her head. “No sir, but come to think of it, she wasn’t wearing a coat or bonnet either.”
Darcy and Richard’s eyes met. Mr. Bennet spoke. “Lizzy told me that Miss Darcy seemed to calm and asked to be left alone.”
Darcy was desperately trying to reassure himself that his sister had just wished to be alone with her thoughts, but increasingly he wondered about the stream where Elizabeth had directed him to go. A memory intruded. “Georgiana had a kitten once that fell into a pond and drowned. She asked me if I thought the animal suffered and I told her that it was an easy death. Not that I knew, I was trying to comfort her.” They looked out the window at the distant stream. “Does that stream lead to a pond of some sort?”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “Yes, it is not large … but it would be suffic
iently deep, and I do believe that Miss Darcy walked with Lizzy in that direction one day.” Richard glanced at Darcy and together they flew down the stairs, and were immediately joined by Bingley and Hurst. They went out the door just as John Lucas arrived.
Darcy met his eye for a moment then jumped on his horse and rode out towards the stream. The other men were right behind him. Their progress was slowed in the woods; they had to traverse paths not normally used by horses. They followed the stream, calling their names and looked everywhere for them. Darcy prayed that his first thoughts were correct, Georgiana simply wished to walk. He derived comfort in knowing that Elizabeth was likely with her and would be able to speak to her calmly. She probably followed the girl so quickly that Georgiana would have had little chance to go forward with her claimed plans. He fought back the combination of anger and guilt he felt over her actions. She will be safe. He kept telling himself. She is with Elizabeth.
Almost a half mile into the bare trees of the woods; he began to hear the sound of a man and a woman arguing. He could not make out the words but looked back at Richard, he had heard it too. He put his finger to his lips and Darcy nodded, approaching cautiously. He saw the flash of red that could be nothing else but a soldier’s uniform, then with relief saw Georgiana’s golden hair. Suddenly he realized that Elizabeth was being held by the soldier, and then, as the words of the argument became clear, he realized who her captor was. Darcy dismounted, and the other men instantly copied him. Darcy pointed and Richard drew his blade, then nodding, they carefully advanced. Wickham held Elizabeth against a tree. Darcy began to lunge forward but Richard held him back, pointing to the knife that was in his hand. With growing rage he watched Wickham’s hands travel over her, and saw the expression of fear in her face as she looked over his shoulder, searching for help. Georgiana stood nearby, sobbing and begging Wickham to let her go. Richard’s hand was firmly gripping Darcy, holding him back, but his strength was nothing to the fury that was intensifying in his cousin’s mind. Over the pounding of his heart in his ears, Darcy could hear the words of their argument carrying across the void. Staring, he saw the moment when she noticed them. He watched as Elizabeth’s courage rose and she declared Wickham a coward. Her eyes met his a second before he saw her grab at the knife and witnessed the strike. Darcy heard her cry and he tore from Richard’s grip. With a roar, he ran up to Wickham, jumping on his back and tumbling them over so they were tangled beside Elizabeth.
“YOU DO NOT TOUCH HER!”
“DARCY!” Wickham cried in surprise.
The men struggled with each other, Richard held up his hand, silently telling the others to let them continue the fight for now. Grunting as they twisted and fought Darcy growled, his face practically touching Wickham’s. “I heard you. I heard your lies. You were given a charmed life, but you threw it away.”
Wickham pushed his palm over Darcy’s face, trying to lift his head up and away from him. “You know what was promised me!”
Darcy slammed his shoulders hard on the ground and his rage-filled eyes burned into Wickham. “You fool, there was no promise made to you. Do you truly believe that a man as proud as my father would give HIS birthright to YOU? Ignore his BLOOD?” Wickham finally managed to push off Darcy’s chest, and used the heel of his boots to kick him away. He scrambled to his feet and stood before Darcy, watching him jump back up to face him. Both men were aware of no other person; they were caught up in their long-awaited showdown.
“He called me SON!”
“HE called you MY BOY!”
“It is the same!”
“He called ME Son, and his favourite stable hand ‘my boy’, what does that make you? You were nothing but his pet!”
“He TOLD me to hurt you!”
“Do not try your lies on me, Wickham; I know what my father was.”
The men stood glaring at each other, their chests heaving. Darcy’s hands were balled into fists, and Wickham bared his teeth and snarled.
“You owe me Darcy …”
Darcy nodded his head emphatically. “Yes, at last you are correct. I owe you for the years of torment. I owe you for taking my father away. I owe you for the money and the women, and the countless merchants you cheated. I owe you for my sister and now I owe you for touching my wife. She was correct, you ARE a coward! Only a coward would try to feel power by manipulating and striking a woman. Only a coward would spread lies and rumours to seek revenge!”
Wickham suddenly bent to retrieve the knife at his feet and crouched down, ready to spring upon him. Darcy ran forward and gripped his wrists, twisting them until the weapon dropped, and in the struggle they fell back to the forest floor. Darcy wrapped his hands around Wickham’s throat.
Wickham struggled, his hands tearing wildly at Darcy’s grip. He finally managed to break the hold as Darcy’s leather gloves slipped on his sweat-covered neck. He gasped for air and landed a blow to Darcy’s jaw, knocking him back. Instantly Darcy returned the favour, sending a crushing strike to Wickham’s temple. He fell back against a tree, momentarily stunned, and Darcy turned away from him, feeling satisfied at last. His attention returned to Elizabeth. She looked up at him and he knelt by her side, removed his gloves and caressed her cheek. He tried to catch his breath, swallowing repeatedly, and stared into her eyes. Neither one could find words, but their tears said all that was necessary.
Bingley and John were standing back in paralysed silence, watching the couple. Richard held Georgiana’s shaking body in his embrace, but his eyes were fixed upon Wickham. He saw Wickham shake his head and regain his faculties, then suddenly dart to the side and away, running up to the horse that had followed him to the scene. He jumped on and began urging it quickly through the trees. Hurst cried out to alert them. “DAMN!” Richard cursed, shoved Georgiana into Bingley’s arms and ran back to his horse.
Darcy stood at his cry. “Where are you going? Let the militia take care of him.”
Richard paused and looked down at him then fixed his gaze on Elizabeth. “No Darcy, I started this, I will finish it.” He turned his horse’s head forward and soon disappeared into the trees.
“Damn!” Darcy cursed and looked after him. Elizabeth touched his leg. “What did he mean, he started this?”
He dropped down to kneel by her side. “When Wickham tried to elope with Georgiana … when we found them at the inn … Richard beat him. I told him then that it was a mistake. I knew Wickham would seek some sort of revenge, especially if society had already learned of Georgiana’s ruin before he had a chance to take advantage and blackmail me for his silence. Once the gossip began, his opportunity for profit was gone. I have dealt with him almost my entire life. I know how he reacts. He might have just slunk away … but the beating, that would make him seek his revenge. He must have realized the opportunity when he knew I was here … and happily engaged to you.” He stroked the back of his fingers against her cheek.
John listened with increasing mortification. “Wickham was the one? He took your sister?” His eyes turned to the girl sobbing against Bingley’s coat.
Darcy nodded then returned his attention to Elizabeth. She took his hand and kissed it, and he pulled her to his chest. Their eyes closed and his cheek rested on her head. “I saw him with the knife and thought I would lose you.”
Elizabeth burrowed into his neck and breathed in his reassuring scent. “That is impossible; I knew you would come in time.”
The three other men stood back and consulted amongst themselves, wondering if they should stay or go after the colonel, none of them were armed, they had left their guns back at Netherfield. John’s attention was caught by the expression on Darcy’s face, and watched as his eyes scanned down Elizabeth’s body and how he ran his hand down her side, smoothing the fabric of her skirts with a firm touch. The others stopped talking and watched. His stroking told everyone there; particularly Elizabeth, that she belonged to no other, and she felt safe again.
Bingley signalled Hurst to come and take charge of Georgiana, and
knelt by Elizabeth’s feet. “Miss Elizabeth, your ankle is swollen. Have you tried to stand?”
She took a great breath. “Yes … I did, but I could not run away … I hit him with a branch and he fell, but he tripped me. I think that was when it twisted.” She attempted a smile. “I should have left my boots on when we returned home, these slippers were not meant for walking.”
“May I see if it is broken?” Bingley asked, and then turned to meet Darcy’s eyes. They both nodded and gently Bingley moved her foot. Elizabeth gasped with pain. “Forgive me, but I believe it is sound.” He removed his cravat and used the long strip of fabric to quickly bind up the ankle.
Elizabeth gripped Darcy’s arms tightly while he worked and when finished, gasped again, and then managed a weak smile. “You have unheralded skills, sir.”
Bingley returned the smile. “No, I was uncommonly clumsy as a lad. I have much practice in this particular manoeuvre.”
Darcy kissed her cheek and turned her face back to his. “Now, what is this about you hitting Wickham?”
Her smile warmed a little. “I wished to gain his attention.”
He shook his head and his mouth curled slightly. “You undoubtedly did, and I imagine it was not of a sort you craved.” The glance between them communicated more of the frightening experience than a recounting of the facts ever could. He encircled her with his arms and nuzzled his face against hers. “I must go to Georgiana, but I will return to you in a moment, then we will take you back to Longbourn.”
She nodded and caressed his face. “I love you.”
He kissed her palm and whispered. “My Elizabeth.”
Standing, he walked to Georgiana, and held out his arms for her. She fell into his embrace and began sobbing anew. “I am so sorry, William. I tried to fight him, but …”
Darcy kissed her head and murmured in her ear. “We will return you to the house, and then we will talk. We need to care for Elizabeth; I think that she needs us.” He looked down at her and raised her chin. Georgiana flinched, seeing the swelling of his jaw. “Will you help me? I can not do it all alone; she is far too obstinate for me.”
