“Of course I will come,” she said, “but how did this happen?”
“To own the truth, I think she may have done it intentionally,” he said in a low voice with an eye to the butler standing by. “Now she is frightened and sorry for it.”
“Foolish girl! I was afraid of something like this. Naturally, I will be glad to do what I can, but shouldn’t we summon the surgeon for her?”
“That was my opinion, too. Yet Lydia insisted I come to you first, and you know how headstrong she is. Once you are with her, I shall go immediately for the surgeon if you deem it necessary – whatever you advise.”
“Then we must go at once.”
“Yes. Sarah is a capable girl, but, all the same… If you are ready, I can drive you in my gig. Or would you prefer to follow with Mr. Darcy in your own equipage?”
The question drew Elizabeth up short. She had few options and none of them particularly good. Mr. Darcy was obviously unavailable, and she doubted if anyone remained who could make ready a carriage. Moreover, arranging her own transportation would consume valuable time that she dared not take with Lydia’s health, and possibly her very life, hanging in the balance.
“I will come with you, and Mr. Darcy can follow us directly,” she said, instinctively concealing the fact that her husband was nowhere at all nearby. “Wait for me outside while I get my wrap and tell him what has happened.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you. I’m very much obliged.”
When Wickham was safely outside and the door closed behind him, Elizabeth collected her things and dashed off a note to her husband.
My dear D,
Lydia has taken a fall and may be seriously hurt. I must go to her. Please come as soon as you can. All my love,
E.
Handing the folded note to the butler, Elizabeth told him, “My sister is ill and needs my help, Henderson. If Mr. Darcy returns before I do, please see that he gets this at once. It is very important that he reads this message as soon as he returns. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Madam, I will attend to it.”
Elizabeth paused to consider if there was anything else prudence required her to do. She knew her husband would disapprove of her going, yet what alternative did she have? She could not ignore her sister’s plea for help, and she dared not wait for Darcy’s return. At least this errand of mercy would allow her to be of some use to one sister whilst taking her mind off another for whom she could do nothing at present. So, with a whispered prayer for Lydia … and one for herself, Elizabeth took up her wrap and went out to meet Mr. Wickham.
He helped her into the gig, and they set off in the direction of the Wickhams’ cottage at a good clip. Elizabeth’s head was filled with images of what she might find upon their arrival, and her thoughts focused on how best to help her sister. Having no inclination for idle conversation, she was relieved that her brother-in-law seemed likewise content to keep his own counsel, at least at first. When they had left the manor house far behind, however, he broke his silence.
“You wear the mantle of mistress of Pemberley well, Elizabeth,” he mused. “I have often pictured you there and, just as I supposed, the role suits. You were meant to inhabit a higher station than the one into which you were born.”
“Mr. Wickham, this is hardly the time or place for compliments.”
He continued, undeterred. “I must own that I have always had the same notion about myself, that had it not been for a cruel accident of birth, I should have been the master here at Pemberley instead of what I am now – one of the downtrodden tenants.”
“By the same logic, Mr. Wickham, you or I could just as easily have been born beggars. Speculation of that sort is pointless.”
“Still, as you well know, my talents, education, and the particular attentions of old Mr. Darcy prepared me for the life of a gentleman. It is all thrown away if I am to be a farmer the rest of my days. No, I was destined for better things, and I am determined to have them.”
Elizabeth sighed impatiently. “You certainly have at your disposal all the elements necessary to prosper, Mr. Wickham. If your ambitions tend in the right direction and you are willing to work hard, I daresay you will fashion a very good life for yourself and your family. I sincerely hope that you do.”
“That is a fine speech, Elizabeth, but well off the mark. It will be quite impossible for me to achieve anything in my current situation. Your husband will always see to that. As long as I remain at Pemberley, he will hold me down. No doubt that is why he brought me back here, for the sport he hoped to enjoy at my expense. I have my pride, though; I will not sit idly by and be made a fool of. He may fancy himself a ‘prince’ of sorts,” he sneered, “but I refuse to be his whipping boy.”
“Enough, Mr. Wickham. You misjudge my husband, and I will not listen to any more of your slander,” declared Elizabeth, angered by this more extreme version of the same shopworn complaint she had heard him spout before.
“You shall hear whatever I choose to say, Mrs. Darcy,” he said with a sidelong look at her. “You are in no position to do otherwise at present.”
Wickham did in fact hold his peace for a time, though, returning his full attention to his driving. He slapped the reigns and urged his horse to a quicker pace. This suited Elizabeth exceedingly well. The remaining ground could not be covered soon enough for her. Wickham’s distasteful conversation seemed inappropriate on more than one level. His familiarity with her and his criticism of Darcy were offensive enough. But that he should have more anxiety over his own disappointments than for his injured wife at such a time was most unseemly.
Elizabeth kept her eyes on the road ahead and could soon make out the lane that led to the string of tenant farms. Although she had no cause to come into this part of the estate with any frequency, she had toured every aspect of the park with her husband on more than one occasion. She knew which cottage the Wickhams occupied and that it was now only a few minutes off.
As they approached the lane, Wickham showed no sign of slowing. “Here is our turn, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth reminded him, supposing him lost in thought and unaware of how far they had come.
“No, you are mistaken. There is a shorter route.”
“Surely not. I remember the way quite distinctly. This is where we must turn.”
“What is the matter, Mrs. Darcy? Do not you think I know the way to my own house? You forget that I grew up here. I am far more familiar with these roads than you are, I should imagine. Trust me; I know what I am doing,” he said, driving the horse still faster.
As they swept past the lane and continued down the main road at a high rate of speed, Elizabeth began to comprehend that trusting Mr. Wickham was the very last thing she ever should have done. In silent vexation, she cursed her own stupidity. How could she have been so foolish, so rash as to put herself within this man’s power?
Wickham was clearly up to no good; that much was certain now. Whether he only meant to frighten her or something worse … Elizabeth shuddered. The bleakness of her situation bore in upon her. If he truly intended to do her some kind of injury, she had very little chance of stopping him. Still, it seemed incredible that he would be so reckless.
“Consider what you are about, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth ventured, praying he was not yet beyond the reach of reason. “So far, no harm has been done, but if you carry this mischief much further, you will be liable for some serious charges. Now do be sensible and turn the carriage about. We must think of Lydia.”
Wickham’s tight-lipped smile sickened Elizabeth, as did more deeply his reply.
“Have no anxiety for her,” he said disdainfully. “Your sister needs none of our help; she is completely uninjured. Oh, she did feel the back of my hand when she told me about the child, and I admit I was tempted to give her a sounder sample of my displeasure. That little tumble down stairs that I mentioned might have been highly therapeutic. As it happens, though, I invented the whole story – a necessary deception. I doubt you would have agreed to take this
little ride with me otherwise,” he said in a light, almost playful, manner.
With each exchange, the stakes of the game they played mounted higher. Elizabeth had but one card left in her hand. She prayed it would be enough.
“I warn you, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy follows close behind and is probably even now hard upon our heels,” she declared in a steady voice that belied the fear welling up inside her. “If you do not repent of this foolishness immediately, you will soon be in the hands of the law. Or worse yet, my husband may deal with you himself.”
At this, Wickham did slow the mare, but only to direct her onto a different road. With that accomplished, he slapped the reigns, and turned to watch Elizabeth’s reaction as he played his trump.
“I do beg your pardon. I know it is considered very bad form to contradict a lady. However, you are in fact quite mistaken on that point, Elizabeth. You see, I happen to know that your gallant husband rode off this morning and left you quite unprotected. He will not be coming to your rescue anytime soon, now will he?”
Chapter 37
Fears Confirmed
Elizabeth barely flinched at Wickham’s last remark. Observing the preternatural brightness in his eyes, his grotesquely exhilarated expression, she dared not excite him further by becoming hysterical herself, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her sink into tears. Now that the danger was confirmed, an icy calm stole over her, born not of resignation but of the certain knowledge that she must keep her wits about her to survive.
Taking a slow, steady breath, Elizabeth evaluated her limited options. She quickly concluded that leaping from the moving carriage would be far too dangerous in her condition. Overpowering such an imposing man was, of course, out of the question. And there would be little chance of anyone hearing should she scream for help. Wickham had pulled onto a rough, little-used dirt track that led deep into an isolated expanse of woods on the outskirts of the estate. The cottages and fields from which help might have been expected to come were now far behind them, and growing more remote by the moment.
Rather than risk everything on a hasty act of desperation, Elizabeth resolved to wait and watch for an opportune moment to effect her escape. She silently counseled herself to be bold and decisive when her opening came. She must seize the first opportunity for she was unlikely to get a second chance.
Elizabeth very deliberately smoothed her skirt, running her hand over the pocket where her penknife was concealed, verifying that it was still there. She had taken it on impulse without a coherent thought as to why a weapon might be needed on an errand of mercy. Now Elizabeth thanked God that she had some means to defend herself and her child; she prayed for the courage to use it if she must. But that had to be as a last resort, when all other hopes were exhausted. First, she intended to exploit Wickham’s gift of conversation, and his penchant for talking about himself in particular.
“Would you mind telling me where we are going and why you have abducted me?” she asked, hoping to elicit enough information about his plot to make a plan of her own. As she suspected, he was more than willing to oblige.
“Well, Mrs. Darcy, as I said before, I have no intention of remaining here to be frustrated at every turn by your ‘illustrious’ husband. In fact, I have decided to leave England altogether – for the continent or perhaps America, somewhere that my talents will be more rightly appreciated … and richly rewarded. There certainly is no future for me here. You see, I refuse to soil myself working the ground for my daily bread … or to endure the punishment of any more time in your sister’s irksome company.”
With difficulty, Elizabeth held back the retort such a speech deserved.
“This dreadful news of hers was the final blow that decided me. I never cared three straws for Lydia except that she was eager to take me to her bed, with or without benefit of marriage. You were always my true favorite, Elizabeth, as I once was yours, if I am not very much mistaken. I have often imagined how different things might have been had I possessed the resources to apply for your hand years ago, when I am convinced you would have been more than happy to accept me. Then I should have had the agreeable office of getting you with child. Much as I detest infants, it might almost have been worth it in your case. But nothing turns out as it should. Still, you will be pleased to know that I have found a way for you to make it up to me.”
“Indeed. How so?”
“You, my dear, are to induce your husband to provide me the means for a dignified departure. Oh, and I shall also insist that you favor me with a proper sendoff – something special to remember you by. The recollection of it, and the thought of Darcy’s horror when he discovers you, must be my consolation,” he concluded matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth could restrain herself no longer. “So, you mean to abandon your wife and child, assault your sister-in-law, and inflict as much pain as possible on your childhood friend and benefactor. Have I got it right? And you wonder why people do not consider you a gentleman!”
Her rejoinder hit the mark. Wickham jerked the horse to a stop, seized Elizabeth by the shoulders, and shook her. “Mind your tongue, my dear,” he snarled. “If you value your life, you will remember who is in control here and behave yourself, else I will have no choice but to make this more unpleasant for you than it otherwise need be.”
When Elizabeth did not resist or retaliate, Wickham’s grip slackened slightly and a crooked grin overspread his face. He slowly looked her up and down, savoring the sight as one would a fine dinner spread on the table before the feasting begins. Then, he abruptly kissed her full on the mouth. Other than an involuntary drawing back, she offered no opposition. “See, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said triumphantly. “You might even enjoy this, Mrs. Darcy. I certainly have had no complaints from the ladies before, I assure you.”
As Elizabeth steeled herself for what lay ahead, she experienced an odd detachment from her plight, a peace in the face of disaster that defied explanation. It enabled her to focus not on her tormenter, but on her object. She knew what she must do. As Wickham continued to press his advances, she slid her hand into her pocket and deftly freed her knife from its sheath, whereupon she made one last attempt to dissuade him from making the use of that weapon necessary.
“I warn you, sir, for your sake as well as my own, you must desist at once.”
Wickham only laughed at her before resuming his offensive.
Elizabeth was then determined, and when she felt him trespass where only her husband had the right to go, she acted. Without hesitation, she drew the knife from her pocket and drove it deep into his belly. Wickham pulled away in astonishment, attempting to stand. As he did so, Elizabeth gave him a great shove and, before he could recover his balance, she slapped the reigns hard and shouted.
The startled mare bolted ahead, causing the gig to pitch and jerk erratically. As Wickham hung half in and half out, Elizabeth thought she might succeed in disposing of her assailant. Yet he somehow retained his grip and slowly hauled himself back aboard, his eyes black with rage and cursing her treachery all the while. If he had not definitely decided to murder her before, Elizabeth knew he was fully capable of doing so now.
She fended him off with all her might, but Wickham had the advantage, despite his bleeding wound. Neither of them had a spare hand to reign in the horse. With all the commotion to the rear, the frightened creature ran wild, the gig careening dangerously behind. In the midst of all this, it occurred to Elizabeth that the experience seemed increasingly familiar, as if she had lived through it before. Just as the horse faltered, she understood why; it was her nightmare come to life.
The mare went down with the crack of bone and a shriek of equine terror. At the same moment, the gig’s right wheel struck a large stone, sending the rest of the assemblage flying. Elizabeth had the strange sensation of being suspended in mid-air for an impossible length of time, the broken carriage and its contents slowly revolving about her. Then it was over in a flash as everything crashed back to earth with t
he appalling clamor attendant to total destruction. Elizabeth cried out in pain, and all went black.
~*~
At the same time, Mr. Darcy’s expedition was drawing to a more peaceful conclusion. The missing carriage and travelers had been located just ten miles south of Lambton, their failure to arrive at Pemberley owing, as originally supposed, to nothing more serious than a broken axle.
The ladies were relieved that help had come, though somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the rescue party. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence raised further speculation in Georgiana’s mind. The two exchanged a questioning look, each wondering why the other was so far from where they were supposed to be. All explanations were deferred for a more suitable time and place, however.
The ladies and their belongings were soon transferred to the other carriage, and their journey home recommenced forthwith. Three men stayed behind to help repair the broken axle. The rest joined the procession back to Pemberley, which, with the rescue accomplished, proceeded at a more leisurely pace. By midday, Georgiana and Charlotte were safely delivered to the doors of the great house and handed over to the assiduous care of Mrs. Reynolds.
Darcy was promptly given the note that Elizabeth had left for his information. The contents worried him excessively, especially after he learnt that she apparently had been taken away by Wickham himself. Darcy then hurried outside to reassemble the men who had lately fetched his sister home, to now accompany him in search of his wife. They tarried only long enough to harness fresh horses before setting out again, this time in the direction of the Wickhams’ cottage.
Once there, Darcy pounded on the door and ordered Sarah, who answered, to fetch her mistress instantly. “Is your sister here?” he demanded of Mrs. Wickham.
“Lord, no! Should she be?”
“What about your husband? Where is he?”
The Darcys of Pemberley Page 25
