by Webb, Brenda
“But, he has not been injured recently,” she sulked, adding dryly, “Unless you count the times he has tumbled from a chair after falling asleep.”
Landingham tried not to laugh. She was upset because she was worried. “All will be well, you shall see.” He ran his hands up and down her back to soothe her. “I shall return unscathed.”
She leaned back to look at his face, though only half of it was illuminated by the sconce in the hallway. “Promise me you shall return to me.”
“I swear it.”
And with that promise, he claimed her lips in a torrid kiss, reminiscent of those they had shared before she learned that he was Georgiana’s father. Only the sound of his godson calling his name broke the spell, and he stepped back into the hall still holding to her hand. William was standing at the back door when Marshall succeeded in pulling Audrey into the hall, her face a deep shade of crimson.
“Are you going, or have you decided to stay? No one would blame you.”
Landingham looked at Audrey, who seemed to be awaiting his answer. “I am going.”
Leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips, he whispered, “I could not live with myself if I let him go alone. I shall return, my love. Wait for me.” Then he walked purposefully towards William.
Silent tears rolled as she followed his progress. I shall wait for you forever.
~~~*~~~
As she touched the knob to her bedroom door, Audrey was surprised to hear shouts coming from the sitting room across the hall. Georgiana was screaming at someone, so she opened the door to determine the problem. Inside her niece was trying to pull her hair back and capture it with a ribbon, while a young maid stood behind her, buttoning her dress as she urged, “Hurry! Hurry!”
“Help me, Aunt,” she exclaimed upon seeing her at the door. “I must stop my brother and my… Lord Landingham before they leave! I was on the balcony when they passed below me. I heard them talking about some horrible danger that they are off to face.” She whined, “Oh, please, hurry with the dress!”
A jerk of Lady Ashcroft’s head dismissed the maid much to her niece’s dismay. Then her aunt addressed her as she knelt on the floor, desperately trying to find her slippers. “Georgiana, please, you must stop. It is too late, child. They have already gone. Listen! Do you not hear the coach pulling down the drive?”
The torches in the yard illuminated the scene as Georgiana stood up and ran onto the balcony just in time to see the coach pass the stables on its way to the back entrance. Her shoulders fell and she sobbed as she realised it was too late. “What are they doing that is so dangerous? Can you at least tell me?”
“Miss Elizabeth has been kidnapped by Mr. Wickham.” Georgiana gasped, covering her mouth as her aunt continued. “They know where he has taken her and are certain they can return her unharmed. Naturally, they did not want you to worry, but since you have learned it on your own, I see no reason to keep the details from you now.”
“How horrible!” she moaned, sinking down in one of the chairs on the balcony. “She has been taken in my stead, has she not? Why must she suffer for helping me?”
“Do not take on this burden. It is not your fault. She was taken because George Wickham learned that Fitzwilliam loves her. He wants to hurt your brother.”
“Tell me truly. Do you think she will be returned unharmed? I could not bear it if something happened to her, but I fear most what Brother will do if she is not.” Her voice was strangled as she wept. “He is so in love with her.”
“I have faith that she will.”
“I… I shall pray that she will as well.” A small sigh escaped. “But how I wish they had told me everything before they left! That way I could have told my godfa… my father that I was no longer angry with him about… about what he told me.”
Audrey pulled her from the chair and into her arms, holding her close as she wept. “He knows that you love him, and you shall be able to tell him yourself when he returns. They all shall return safely, just you wait.”
“I suppose because I acted like a child at Ramsgate, they are treating me like a child now—not telling me anything.”
“No, Fitzwilliam and Marshall are treating you like a woman. Even if you were grown, a gentleman would never tell you that he is off to do something dangerous if it is in his power. It is the nature of a gentleman to protect a lady, even if that includes protecting us from those things they feel might worry us.”
“But it is not necessary!” Georgiana sniffed.
“I agree. But it is so. The best you can hope for is to marry a man who will be honest with you. But I have to warn you that, even then, if he loves you deeply, he may keep secrets to protect you.”
“I do not want a man who would keep secrets. I shall not settle for that.”
“You may be surprised at what you shall settle for when you meet the man of your dreams.” She tilted Georgiana’s chin so that their eyes met. “Your brother loves you deeply; therefore, he believes he is protecting you by not having you worry.”
“And my… my father?”
“He loved you so much that he kept a secret for fourteen years because he thought it would hurt you. Why would you think he would not protect you now?”
Georgiana fell into her arms again. “I do not think I shall EVER understand men.”
Audrey chuckled as she smoothed her hair. “Even at my age, I do not understand them.” Taking her niece’s hand, she began to lead her towards the balcony door. “Come. You and I shall eat, and then we shall read the Bible and spend the evening praying for our loved ones and friends.”
“That is an excellent idea. At least then I shall feel of some use.”
~~~*~~~
Chapter 42
Teddington
Stillwater Manor
The Next Day
A strong, musty odour permeated Elizabeth’s senses, so much so, that it caused her nose to crinkle and her eyes to flutter open. Ghostly images of sheet-covered objects appeared in the faint light filtering through the filthy curtains. It unsettled her, and for a brief moment, she could not recall where she was. Then the events of yesterday came rushing back.
Now she remembered the abduction in the park and the long trip in the coach. It had not taken long to learn that Mr. Wickham was her abductor, for while she feigned being asleep, he had proceeded to get drunk on the bottle of brandy he brought along to celebrate. He had immediately begun commemorating his triumph in besting Darcy, and the rogue was very entertaining when he was in-his-cups, if one were to judge by the guffaws of the old woman who rode along with them. So between gloating about the morning’s successful events, as well as making remarks about what happened in Ramsgate, Elizabeth was left in no doubt as to his identity.
“I was right!” Wickham had proclaimed to the other occupant of the coach. “All the ridicule I endured when I decided to go to the park this morning, regardless of the rain, was unfounded. Surely you heard Grady grumbling that no one with good sense would be out in the rain, did you not?”
“Aye,” the woman replied.
“You would have thought I was ordering him to jump into the Thames instead of endure a little downpour,” Wickham had snorted, taking another swig from the bottle. “But I was right in doing so! Darcy was there, and Miss Bennet as well, acting as though they had nothing to fear by meeting in the park in such foul weather! I suppose he, too, thought no one else would be afoot. What a fool he is! I am sure he believed that because I was thwarted in my attempt to grab his sister, I would be too put off to try again—this time with his mistress.”
Too absorbed in his braggadocio to await any reply, he continued, “I would give a hundred pounds to have seen the look on Darcy’s face when that necklace fell into his lap!” He guffawed, slapping his knee. “That arrogant bastard has always thought himself a step ahead of me. Now he has learned that he is not so smart after all!”
During the time that Elizabeth was forced to listen to his boasts, she did learn where they were
headed—Stillwater Manor in Teddington. She knew that Teddington was south of London, but she would never have known that the estate was owned by Gisela Darcy, had Wickham not blurted it out. That bit of news had caused a shiver to run down her spine, for she realised that she was in the clutches of two people, each having their own reason to hate her.
At length, the coach came to a jarring halt, and she had been dragged inside a building, led to a room and shoved down into a chair. Her feet were tied once more, and she was left alone for the balance of the night. The fright of not knowing where she was, or what lurked beyond her blindfold, had finally given way to exhaustion and, until just seconds ago, she had fallen into a restless sleep.
Fortuitously, as she struggled to sit upright upon waking, the scarf used to blind her slipped, baring the corner of one eye so that she could take in the small room, likely a housekeeper’s quarters. She could plainly see the outline of a bed and a dresser under some type of cloth. A glance at the floor next to her revealed a similar fabric had once shielded the chair in which she sat. Glancing to the ceiling, she was aghast at the number of cobwebs dominating the corners of the walls. Involuntarily she cringed, imagining where all the inhabitants of the webs might be.
Just at that instant, a mouse ran towards her feet across the thickly powdered floor, and she stifled a scream. It was then that she realised the gag they had shoved into her mouth at the park was still doing its duty. The offending rag made her mouth dry, so dry that she could barely swallow. She longed for a drink of water, but had little time to dwell on that as she struggled to make sense of it all. Think Lizzy! You must think clearly in order to help yourself and Fitzwilliam! She had no doubt that he would come for her.
Suddenly the door opened, causing her to jump. A grey-haired woman, as round as she was tall, shuffled into the room with a tray holding a pot, a cup and some bread. Elizabeth assumed it was the woman from the coach. At the prospect of something to quench her thirst, she tried to swallow but found she could not.
Paying no attention to the captive, the servant searched for a place to set her burden down and settled on a small table. Jerking the sheet from off it, copious dust particles instantly rose to ride the shafts of daylight now streaming through the holes in the window coverings. Though the dust filled the room, Elizabeth tried hard not to cough. She did not wish to draw attention to the blindfold’s failings.
Satisfied, the old servant plopped the tray down and turned to study her charge, immediately noticing that Elizabeth’s blindfold was half off. She stepped over to pull the entire thing over the captive’s head and then removed the gag from her mouth.
“Ain’t no point to it now, dearie. We’ll be long gone afore they find ya. If ya be quiet, I’ll let it be.”
Then she proceeded to untie Elizabeth hands. “Just til ya eat what I brung ya.” She slid the table before her captive, poured a cup of tea that looked like water and with a toothless grin, stated, “Fixed it fer ya myself.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, trying not to think of how nasty everything in the house was—especially what she was expected to eat. She had seen the dust settling on the bread as it filtered through the air. Nevertheless, she pasted on a small smile.
Her hands now free, she massaged each of her fingers to improve the circulation before carefully taking hold of the lukewarm cup of tea. Starved for water, she drank it down quickly. Seeing how hurriedly she drained the cup, her captor replenished it from the small pot.
“Thirsty are ya? Drink up! I’ll make more if need be.”
Elizabeth nodded, grateful for any show of concern for her wellbeing. Then she picked up a piece of bread spread with some type of jam and took a bite. While it did not appear appetising, it was edible, so she finished it. Going without food when it was offered was no option. She would need all her strength to face what was to happen. As she ate, her mind wandered as the old woman babbled about being expected to clean up the house and how pitifully inadequate the kitchen was, but she caught Elizabeth’s undivided attention when she mentioned Gisela.
A part of her would always be curious about that woman, but a more prudent side cautioned that she was better off not satisfying her curiosity. Nevertheless, Elizabeth knew that if Gisela was at this place, it was not because she had come to welcome her.
Instantly, the ring she had placed in her pocket at the park came to mind. She wondered if Wickham had discovered it when he pulled the necklace from its hiding place. Stealthily sliding a hand inside the pouch, she breathed a sigh of relief to find it still there.
“Ya better mind your manners if the mistress comes in ta see ya. She ain’t slow to anger, if ya know what I mean.”
Just at that moment, the sounds of people arguing just outside the door reinforced the old woman’s warning. The door flew open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang. A woman, barely resembling the Gisela Darcy that Elizabeth had seen once at a ball, stumbled into the room. She was followed by a man who was trying to keep her from falling. That man, whom she instantly recognised from Ramsgate, gave up trying to aid Gisela after she latched onto a bed post, disturbing the cobwebs that were attached and causing several spiders to sprint across the sheet that covered the bed. Paying no mind, Gisela struggled to stay upright while simultaneously studying her. And as she did, an expression of absolute loathing crossed her face.
Shocked at Gisela’s dilapidated appearance, Elizabeth knew she should not stare, but she could not tear her eyes away. It was evident that the gown that Gisela wore was once very expensive, thought now it appeared wrinkled and dirty, with even a few slashes around the hem. Her hair was dishevelled—half of it upswept, the other half hanging down unkempt. What was more, she smelled as though she had bathed in brandy, though Elizabeth seriously doubted that she had had a bath in days. What little rouge was left on her cheeks was smudged, and she had heavily powdered her face, creating the same pasty look immortalised in portraits she had seen of The Virgin Queen. 20
Gisela’s words were slurred. “So you are the whore my husband keeps in London!” Elizabeth’s silence seemed to provoke her. Gisela moved to stand before her. “I am speaking to you! Answer me!”
Elizabeth met her glare. “I am Elizabeth Bennet, and I am no man’s mistress!”
“Do you think me an idiot? Too stupid to find you out?” She raised a hand as if to strike her, but Wickham grabbed it and twirled her around to face him.
“I told you she is not to be hurt! Darcy will track us to the ends of the earth if she is harmed!”
“I have not pledged that she will go unscathed.”
“You had best listen to me in this matter! You are too drunk to be of sound mind!”
“I am drunk? When you arrived yesterday, you were in-your-cups according to my servants!”
“I was celebrating. Now it is time to get down to business. No more brandy! Do you hear?”
He began to drag Gisela out of the room, her shoes streaking the dust on the floor as she struggled to be free. Nonetheless, her present state left her unable to resist, and soon the door slammed shut behind them. Their argument continued outside, the noise level lessening as they moved down the hall towards another part of the house. And as they did, Elizabeth let go the breath she had been holding.
“Like I said, dearie! She ain’t one to be crossin’.” Agnes reached for the teapot a little more cautiously. “Another cup of tea?”
~~~*~~~
Percival Manor
As dawn broke over Lord Percival’s estate, a dense fog still bathed the ground though the sky was now turning a pearly grey. The sun, which had begun to rise, coloured just the top of the treeline on the horizon in shades of orange and purple. It was at this hour that Richard went in search of his cousin. He found William on the balcony outside his bedroom, standing next to a column, one white-knuckled hand clutching it tightly as though it was all that kept him upright, his head hung in despair.
“Darcy?”
William’s head snapped up and turned. Q
uickly confirming that it was Richard, he turned back to stare into the indistinct, still foggy landscape. All the unknown of the night and the universe had been pressing upon him and he was spent.
Richard ventured, “You thought I was Lord Landingham?”
A nod was his reply.
“He would not think less of you if he knew you were worried.”
“I do not want him to worry for me. He is not fully recovered.”
“I understand. But, alas, it is only me, your voice of reason.”
William could not help but smile. “Then my voice of reason could not sleep either?”
“It was not that duty that kept me awake! It is my training as an officer. We sleep little before a battle.”
Doubt tortured William. “This would not have happened had I not made Elizabeth return to Gracechurch Street with her father.”
“You do not know that. Knowing Miss Bennet, she would have walked out in Hyde Park, if she had no other choice, and he could have taken her from there. Besides, you had no say in the matter. Until she is of age, she must obey her father.”
William seemed to consider that for a long moment. “Do you think it shall be much of a battle? How many men do you suppose Wickham has recruited?”
“I do not suppose he would have any trouble recruiting the riff-raff that he knows, perhaps as many as twenty, more likely twelve or so.”
“There are fourteen of us, not counting Mr. Gladstone. Do you think that enough?”
“Yes. That bunch of misfits will be no match for us. Just the colleagues I brought with me could take them all, of that I am sure.”
“I fear they will kill Elizabeth before we can free her.” William’s voice faded and Richard came forward to clamp a firm hand on his shoulder.
