by Webb, Brenda
Elizabeth examined her finger. “I cut it trying to escape the bedroom in which Alfreda and I were locked. I believe it will heal sufficiently without stitches, though.”
Lord Landingham’s demeanour rapidly altered. His earlier fury at Wilkens returning full force as he mumbled something about hanging not being good enough. Audrey placed a quieting hand on his arm, and he inhaled loudly, as though he would have liked to say more but would restrain himself for her sake.
Georgiana touched Elizabeth’s arm sympathetically. “Oh, I am so sorry. Would you like to talk about what happened? Brother says it helps to talk about things and not keep them inside.” Immediately, she chuckled wryly, her eyes sad. “Though I do not think he takes his own advice.”
“Georgiana!” Lady Ashcroft cautioned.
Elizabeth intervened with a wan smile, laying the cloth that covered her injury aside. “I do not mind telling you.”
At Audrey Ashcroft’s hesitant nod, she began to explain how she and Alfreda had been locked in the bedroom and how she had accidently cut herself by using the knife in her trunk to whittle around the lock on the shutters.
“Why would you have a knife in your trunk?”
“Perhaps I should not say, as it does not sound very ladylike, but—” Elizabeth smiled crookedly, though the exercise clearly hurt. Her eyes crinkled as everyone awaited her explanation. “I have no brothers, so I grew up following Papa around our estate as he hunted and fished. I became quite adept at being his helper, much to my mother’s dismay. So when I began to travel, Papa gave me my own hunting knife, suggesting I hide it in my trunk as protection. I do not know that I could have managed the lock on the shutter without it. I would have thought of some other way I suppose, but the knife was a practical help.”
“But you were wounded using it.”
“Only because I became careless by trying to work faster as dawn approached.”
“You were fortunate Mr. Wilkens did not find it in your possessions beforehand.” Seeing that Elizabeth had become more sombre, Georgiana tried to lighten the mood. “I think it clever for all women to have such a weapon at their disposal. Do you not think so, Aunt?”
Landingham broke in, retorting, “Would that they all had a pistol and knew how to use it!”
Diplomatically Lady Ashcroft replied, “Hidden arms are useful for those familiar with the weapon and prudent enough to use them judiciously.”
Georgiana continued to prod Elizabeth. “The injury to your face…” She hesitated. “I do not remember it being quite that severe when you left the carriage at the gallery?”
“Lord Wilkens saw fit to make it worse because I answered him too smartly.”
Georgiana gasped. “You are so brave!”
“I was more angry than brave.” Elizabeth cocked her head and again tried to smile though the effort caused her jaw to ache. “My father says that I am too headstrong to be cautious when I should. But I have always found it hard to be frightened when I am furious. It is only later, when I have time to think clearly, that I realise I may have been foolish for acting without first deliberating.”
Audrey Ashcroft broke into the conversation. “Georgiana, please allow Miss Elizabeth to rest since, by her own admission, she was up all night. She must be exhausted. Let us all try to do the same, at least until it is time to stop for fresh horses.”
Elizabeth tried to smile her appreciation, as she was truly very tired. Georgiana apologised for talking too much, and straightaway each young woman leaned into separate corners, closing their eyes. With no concern for anyone’s disapproval, Lord Landingham put an arm around Audrey, pulling her to rest against his chest, and she closed her eyes as well.
Thus as the little group journeyed towards Milton and Ashcroft Park, they were left to their own reflections on the events that brought them together in the coach.
Knowing that she had been the one responsible for the injuries to her godfather and Miss Elizabeth, Georgiana was dreading her return to London and Fitzwilliam. She was well aware that her brother would be greatly disappointed in her for trusting Wickham and causing this entire fiasco. Ever since she had been rescued, his sad, dispirited eyes haunted her whenever she closed her own.
Lord Landingham appeared to be napping, but he was not. Instead, he was plotting exactly what he would do once he reached London. He intended to make sure that George Wickham became well acquainted with the end of a rope for what he had tried to do to Georgiana. And he knew that he would not be alone in his aspirations, as Fitzwilliam and Richard would want to capture that blackguard just as dearly.
Audrey Ashcroft, too, was not sleeping, though her eyes were shut. She could feel the tension in Marshall’s body and knew that as soon as he had recovered enough to mount a horse, he would go after Wickham. She worried about that certainty, as he was no longer a young man, and she prayed that he would leave that task to Fitzwilliam and Richard. They were well able to deal with that villain, and with Richard’s contacts, they could track him more readily. The thought of something happening to Marshall caused tears to pool in Audrey’s eyes, and she opened them to study his dear face.
I pray that very shortly I shall be your wife.
As though he had heard her thoughts, Lord Landingham opened his eyes to find her gazing at him lovingly. Glancing at the two young women across from them, he gauged that he had enough time to give Audrey a quick kiss. And so he did—twice—before pulling her even more tightly to his side. Snuggling in each other’s embrace, they both closed their eyes to rest in earnest.
Only Elizabeth had fallen asleep. One might think she would be reliving the horrors of the past two days while she slumbered, but that would be wrong. Her mind was not filled with what had just transpired, but with what had taken place weeks ago.
In her dream, it was storming furiously outside a small, rickety cabin, while inside she was deliciously warm, kept so by two strong arms wrapped entirely around her. There was a beating in her ear that she discerned was William’s heart, and she had just realised by the thrumming in her ears, that her own kept perfect tempo with his.
If anyone had been watching, they would have seen her smile unawares.
~~~*~~~
Hawthorne Hall
As Lady Hawthorne’s carriage pulled up to the front steps to her estate, Colonel Cochran came running down them, eager to open the door to the vehicle. First, he helped his godmother from the carriage, planting a kiss on her cheek, and then he leaned in to assist Alfreda. As she stepped to the ground, he could barely refrain from taking her in his arms, but he resisted doing so, addressing them both animatedly.
“Ladies, I came as soon as I got permission from my superiors, and I have been granted two weeks before I must return to duty. I pray that my inability to accompany you to Gatesbridge Manor in no way jeopardised your wellbeing.”
Violet Hawthorne looked puzzled, so he continued. “I beg your pardon, Lady Hawthorne, but when I arrived so early and you were not here, I forced Mr. Traywick to reveal where you had gone. I knew immediately that something unpleasant must have happened, and I had just sent a footman to retrieve my horse when your carriage appeared.”
“Ah, now I understand the reason for your anxiety,” she replied. “But there was no need to fear for us, as we had enough men accompanying us to get the job done. And here is the proof—my niece!”
Alfreda and the colonel were looking at one another as though they were the only people in the world, so Violet interrupted. “Let us go inside. This is no place to discuss all that has occurred today.”
Just as they reached the foyer, there was a commotion outside, and the entire party went back onto the portico. Mr. Drummond, the liveryman from Gatesbridge, was trying to climb down from a very agitated horse. His face was bright red from the exertion. One of Lady Hawthorne’s footmen stepped forward and endeavoured to assist the man by holding the animal. When the old gentleman finally had his feet firmly on the ground, he wiped his brow and took a deep breath as if to c
alm his nerves. Then he walked unsteadily up a few steps towards the Mistress of Hawthorne Hall. Another footman ran down to take his arm and keep him steady.
“Lady Hawthorne, you shall never believe me when I tell you what has happened!”
She stepped down a few steps in his direction. “Tell me and we shall see.”
“It is Mr. Wilkens, ma’am. Not long after you left, I was at the stables getting my things together, as you had so kindly offered me a job. All of a sudden, the Master was behind me, demanding that I saddle him a horse straightaway. I found out later that he had asked the guards who were watching him to allow him use of the… privy.” Colouring with embarrassment, he continued with eyes downcast. “And he escaped through a false wall panel while they waited outside.”
The man studied his well-worn boots self-consciously. “I would never have complied had he not begun to whip me with his riding crop.” He motioned to some red stripes visible along the side of his neck. “But, having no choice, I saddled old Bailey here.” He pointed to the large grey horse now being soothed by the footman. “Now Bailey has always been a well behaved creature, but just as the Master mounted, your men came running down the lawn with weapons drawn. One got off a shot just as Lord Wilkens startled the horse by shouting and beating him with the crop, hence he did something I never expected—he reared.”
The man hesitated for a moment for her to understand the consequences of what he was saying. “I am afraid that is when your nephew fell and—” Unexpectedly catching sight of Alfreda Wilkens peering from behind Colonel Cochran, he hushed straightaway.
Wilkens sister’s eyes grew wide as she stepped around the colonel to address him. “Please finish, Mr. Drummond. Tell me what happened to my brother.”
He swallowed hard, murmuring, “I am afraid that he hit his head on a stone wall and cracked his skull, Miss. He is dead.”
Alfreda covered her face with her hands and began to cry as she turned into David’s arms. After a little while, he looked to his godmother and nodded towards the open door, then began to lead Alfreda back into the house. Violet Hawthorne said not a word, pensively following the young couple’s progress until they were out of sight. Then she turned to meet Mr. Drummond’s gaze.
“They that sow to the wind, reap the whirlwind.” 12
Mr. Drummond did not reply, but only shook his head in agreement.
Chapter 30
London
Darcy House
Mr. Barnes hurried towards the kitchen as swiftly as was appropriate for a man of his position and contemplated how abruptly the day had changed. Only an hour before, he had found the Master working in his study by candlelight, as it was still quite dark inside the room though the sun had begun to rise. This was not an unusual occurrence. Since Mr. Darcy’s return from Hertfordshire weeks before, he kept late hours and slept for no more than four or five hours a night. When he awoke, more often than not, he would go to his study and begin working on estate matters.
Deeming it his duty to rise early in case he might be of service, Barnes had changed his hours to coincide with the Master’s. As a result, every morning he would arise well before dawn, being careful not to wake Mrs. Barnes, since she often kept late hours. Heading downstairs, he would make sure that the footmen who stood guard overnight were replaced. Then he would wait patiently for the Master to appear. Once that took place, he would awaken members of the kitchen staff to make coffee, Mr. Darcy’s preferred beverage, and to begin preparing food. When the coffee was ready, he would carry a fresh pot of the hot liquid to the study, delivering it himself, so he could have a few words with the Master before the day began in earnest. That routine served him well for soon afterward the house would be bustling with activity, the silence replaced by the hum of everyday tasks.
This morning, however, Barnes noted that the silence still remained. Each member of the staff moved cautiously and wore a serious expression. Not a one spoke, choosing instead to return his silent nod of greeting. No doubt the news had spread quickly that the Master’s mood had changed for the worse since Mr. Clark’s arrival, and they were either eager to see Mr. Darcy depart or escape his notice until he had. A customarily kind man, their employer could be quite critical of the smallest infraction when he was worried.
Occupied with these thoughts, the butler almost ran into the kitchen door which swung open with a vengeance directly in his path. Coming out of the room with a tray filled with sausages, cheese, eggs, butter, jam and fresh baked bread was his wife, who managed to stop just in time to avoid dropping the contents.
“Mind where you are going, Maxwell!” she declared, trying to regain her balance. Then looking about to make sure no other servants had heard, she sighed heavily and smiled her regret for being so terse.
Aghast at the near miss, Barnes exhaled noisily and feigned wiping his brow as he leaned in to explain. “I am sorry, Matilda. My mind was preoccupied, and I confess that I was not paying attention as I should.”
“I apologise as well. It has been Bedlam since you sent Florence to awaken me with the admonition that I should hurry as the Master intended to leave.”
“That it has! I have no idea what was in that express Mr. Clark delivered.” Now it was his turn to look about suspiciously before continuing. “I have never seen Mr. Darcy’s expression darken so rapidly. Immediately he had me send a footman to locate Colonel Fitzwilliam and insist that he come without delay.”
“Has the colonel arrived?”
“No, but I pray he does soon. I have never seen Mr. Darcy so upset. He paces across his study, murmuring to himself.”
“Then let me hasten with this fare. It may be a welcome diversion.”
“I pray you are right.” Patting his wife on the back, he enquired, “Would you rather I take it? You know he can be short without intending to be when he is disturbed.”
“No, he has never once treated me with less than the utmost courtesy, and I do not expect that to change.”
Stepping aside, he bowed, and made a show of sweeping an arm across his body. “Then be on your way, my love.”
Returning his endearment with a wink, Mrs. Barnes hastened to her duty. The footman positioned beside the study door leaned over to knock as she approached, and the housekeeper paused for the summons. As she waited, she was surprised to hear Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice echoing in the foyer and turned to see him striding towards her, dressed in his regimentals, immaculate as always.
“That smells wonderful, Mrs. Barnes. I am delighted to find something to eat. I have not had one bite of food this morning. I pray that there is also some of that excellent coffee already prepared.”
“As always, we have plenty of food, Colonel, and a pot of coffee was delivered several minutes ago.”
She was about to say more, but at that exact moment his cousin called out, “Come.”
Smiling, Richard turned the knob on the door and pushed it open, standing aside to allow her to enter first. As he followed the housekeeper inside, he noted that William was clearing his desk of some papers in order to make a place to set the tray. Instantly he began his usual teasing.
“Now, Cousin, what situation could possibly be so dire as to require my attendance at this ungodly hour? Has Bonaparte attacked Pemberley?”
As Richard guffawed at his own joke, William met his cousin’s look with a decided frown before addressing Mrs. Barnes. “Thank you, Mrs. Barnes. Please be so good as to have three satchels prepared with enough food and water for a trip to Ashcroft Park. Slattery and Musgrove will travel with me via horseback.”
Though her eyebrows rose at the mention of travelling via horseback, the long-time servant executed a perfect curtsey and barely glanced at Richard as she exited the room.
Once the door closed behind her, William walked around the desk without a word and handed Richard the express he had received earlier. Meeting his cousin’s eyes briefly, Richard focused on the missive and began to read. As his expression changed from astonishment to anger, he
gripped the back of a nearby chair then walked around it to sit down, shaking with fury. Once finished reading, he was immediately back on his feet, mirroring William’s earlier pacing.
“How dare that scum try to take our Georgiana! I swear by all that is holy I shall make that cad pay with his life!”
William, who had been leaning against his desk as he waited for him to finish, stopped his cousin by grabbing his arm. “I have no doubt of that, but first we have to find him. Is your man still watching Gisela’s residence?”
“Yes. He has not had anything to report lately. By and large, she stays home and drinks. Even Attenborough has deserted her for younger women, it seems.”
“Perhaps you should add more men. I would like her observed at all times. I have a feeling that Wickham will return to London, and I would not be surprised if he comes to her townhouse. In fact, I would not discount that she had something to do with this.”
“Good Lord, man! Why would Gisela be so cruel as to try to harm Georgiana? She has never done anything to her.” At William’s pointed look, he answered his own question. “Revenge.”
“That and perhaps she thought that she could control Georgiana and, by extension, me, if my sister wed that blackguard.”
“I shall strangle her with my bare hands if this is so.”
“You will have to get behind me.” William snarled, beginning to pour two cups of coffee. He held one steaming cup towards his cousin. “But the priority now is to make sure Georgiana is safe.”
Richard took a sip of the hot liquid before replying, “Pemberley.”
“Precisely.”
“I take it you will travel to Ashcroft Park and escort her to London and then on to Pemberley. Do you need my assistance?”
“I thank you, no. I shall take two men with me. With those already travelling with her party, it should suffice. I want you to head the search for Wickham. With your army comrades, you have useful connections all over England.”
