Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle

by Webb, Brenda

  “They did not bring her this far to kill her. I give that snake, Wickham, enough credit to fear what you would do to him if he were to harm her. And we will have the element of surprise.”

  “But there is Gisela. She has become so…” William hesitated, trying to find the right word. “Unhinged is the only way to describe her. I fear that she will harm Elizabeth even more than I do Wickham.”

  “But we have no real knowledge that she is at Stillwater.”

  “I know her well enough. She is here.”

  Richard could not concur with his cousin’s certainty, but was not willing to argue the point. It was just as likely true as untrue, thus he decided to get William’s mind off the prospect of Elizabeth’s death by changing the subject.

  “Do you smell that? I could swear someone is already brewing coffee downstairs. Mrs. Watwood did say that we could come down to the dining room as soon as it was light, and I made sure to mention that I particularly enjoy coffee in the mornings.” His stomach growled loudly. “Come! Let us eat! It shall do none of us any good to be famished when we have important decisions to make.”

  William nodded, allowing his cousin to push him towards the balcony door.

  ~~~*~~~

  Once Richard and William descended the grand staircase, they found the downstairs abuzz with servants quietly taking tray after tray in the direction of what was likely the dining room. They also encountered Mrs. Watwood, Lord Percival’s housekeeper, who had been awakened to meet them last evening.

  “Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she exclaimed. “We have coffee and tea prepared already, with sweet rolls, buns, jams, preserves and butter. Bacon and sausages will be ready shortly, along with eggs, if that is more to your liking.” She swept her arm towards the double doors through which all the servants were disappearing. “Please help yourself.”

  All of five feet tall and completely white-headed, Mrs. Watwood had greeted them cordially despite the hour and seen to their comfort seemingly unfazed by the prospect of feeding and housing a number of guests and servants with no notice. Lord Matlock, whom she had met before, had hand delivered Lord Percival’s letter of instructions and offered an apology for the lateness of the notice upon their arrival. The epitome of graciousness, even when her guests protested that they did not expect to be treated as guests but only wished to use the manor house as a gathering point, she would have none of it!

  “No guests of Lord Percival will spend the night sitting around a fireplace in the drawing room as long as I am housekeeper at Percival Manor!”

  Thus they had each been ushered to a guest room in short order. Not only had many of the rooms been at ready for occupancy, others were sufficient for habitation with very little wait. The marksmen who arrived on the later coaches also found clean and comfortable rooms in the servants’ quarters.

  Now as Richard and William entered the dining room, William found that the wonderful smells emanating from all the trays made his stomach rumble, as he had eaten little yesterday. So they both took a cup of coffee and filled a plate, sitting down at a table made to seat at least fifty comfortably. Not long after, the rest of their party had joined them, eaten and at Mrs. Watwood’s suggestion, adjoined to the library. She had insisted that only the library had tables large enough to spread their maps and papers effortlessly.

  ~~~*~~~

  Teddington

  Stillwater Manor

  The Stables

  Midday

  Inside the now crumbling stables of Stillwater, a motley crew of misfits played cards around an old table they had found in a back room. Grimsby, one of those brought to Stillwater by Gisela, had established himself the leader the moment he had arrived. Tall, muscular, dark-haired and swarthy, he looked even more dangerous now that he sported an ugly red scar that ran the length of the left side of his face. And when he threw one of Wickham’s recruits from the best room in what was once the grooms’ quarters, he went unchallenged. Of course, most of the chaps that Wickham had talked into this adventure were more interested in the few pounds promised than trying to best Grimsby, so they deferred easily.

  Another round of cards had just ended with Grimsby winning, when one of the younger men threw his cards down on the table and began to stand as he picked up what few coins he had left. Suddenly, a knife came crashing into the top of the table, spearing a card and causing everyone to jump.

  “You ain’t quitting, are ya?” Grimsby growled as he worked the knife free. “Cause I don’t like men who quit when I’m winning.”

  The man swallowed hard and sank back down on a crate. “No.”

  “I didn’t think ya was.”

  Just at that moment Grady, Grimsby’s son, came into the stables, leading a horse that he had saddled that morning for Wickham.

  “Wickham has returned from the village, Pa,” Grady declared as he simultaneously unsaddled the horse. “Do ya think ya had better get out of sight?”

  “I won’t hide unless he comes here!” Grimsby shoved the man sitting next to him on the shoulder. “Go to the door and watch for ‘em!”

  The man grumbled as he threw his cards on the table. “Why me?”

  “Cause I said so, that’s why!” Then Grimsby addressed his son. “Get back to the house. Keep yer eyes and ears open. The mistress said she might be needing me if Wickham gets too troubling.”

  As Grady made his way out of the stable, Grimsby eyed those now watching him warily. “And don’t none of ya be telling his lordship that I’m here!” Heads nodded obediently. “He thinks me dead. Keep it that way! Do I make me’self clear?”

  There was a chorus of frightened “ayes” and then absolute silence.

  “Now, Doolittle, deal again. I feel lucky!”

  ~~~*~~~

  Inside the manor house, Elizabeth was considering a plan of her own that included the old woman who waited on her.

  She has been kind—not unlike any other maid I have known. Perhaps, she thought, she will agree to help me with just a bit of encouragement. I shall just have to take the chance.

  While she was coming to that conclusion, the door opened, and the woman in question backed into the room with another tray of tea and what looked like a plate of biscuits. Before she could turn to face her, Elizabeth spoke.

  “I am so relieved you have returned. I am so thirsty! I do not know if it is the dust in these rooms, but my mouth feels as though it is full of cotton.”

  “Likely the result of the rags they stuffed in yer mouth, dearie, but ol’ Agnes is taking care of it. I have a fresh pot of tea, and I found some biscuits that the Mistress stuffed in a bag what she brought from Town.”

  By then Agnes had set the tray down and was proceeding to untie Elizabeth’s hands. As she did, she noticed that the ropes were chafing her wrists leaving ugly red marks and bruises.

  “I shall try to find some salve for ya to put on that. I wish I could leave ‘em untied, but they’d have my hide if I did.”

  Elizabeth nodded as she flexed her hands. Realising that she must take action sooner rather than later, while Agnes poured the tea, she ventured, “I have noticed that you are not like the others.”

  The only reaction from the old woman was that she stopped pouring for a brief second, but then swiftly continued as though she had not heard.

  “You have a kind heart, Agnes.”

  “Pa taught me to be so, Miss,” she murmured, adding, “though I do things he wouldn’t approve of just to eat. It ain’t easy being on me own.”

  “I believe you,” Elizabeth consoled. “But surely, you must know that there are powerful people who are trying to find me. And if they find me here with you, you might be held just as accountable as the others. I could help you—they could help you— if only I could tell them that you were kind to me.”

  Her hand shook as she handed Elizabeth the weak tea. “I have been kind to ya.”

  “But, if I could tell them that you helped me to escape—”

  “Oh no, Miss! This place is in
the middle of nowhere. We rode for miles through nothing but woods. If ya were to set out afoot through the forest, ya’d surely die. The only way to escape would be by horseback and the stables are full of men.”

  “I would rather take my chances in the woods than be used by Mr. Wickham, and I fear Mrs. Darcy shall see that I do not survive.”

  “You needn’t worry! I was told that ya’ll be set free as soon as the ransom is delivered. So don’t cause no trouble and ya’ll live.”

  Just at that moment, the knob turned and the door began to open. It had not moved more than a few inches when it was pulled shut and another loud argument ensued just outside.

  “I told you to stay away from this room!”

  “I want her upstairs where I can keep an eye on her! You may think Darcy will not come until time to collect the ransom, but I am not that gullible! I would not doubt he is without the estate at this very hour, just waiting to seize the house and kill us all!”

  “I believe you are wrong, nonetheless, we have men posted around the house. And if Darcy is stupid enough to try it, he will be met with force. If I put Miss Bennet under your control, I shall end up with a dead hostage.”

  “Why not? Darcy would love to see me dead! Then he would be free to marry that whore!”

  “Why do you care what he does after we escape with the ransom?”

  “Let me be plain. I shall never allow her to be reunited with Darcy! She must pay for stealing my husband!”

  “How idiotic you have become! And to think I once admired your mettle! There was a time that you cared not a whit about anyone but yourself—ready to do battle with the devil to further your interests. That I could admire! Now you act the part of the pathetic wife, crying over a man you knew never loved you and never will!”

  Gisela lunged at Wickham’s face with her nails, but he caught her hands and held them as she screeched, “If only that woman had not been so eager to warm his bed, he would have loved me in time!”

  “If it comforts you to believe your account, go ahead! But hear this! I am in charge of this operation, and you shall do as I say! Leave Miss Bennet alone, or I shall have you bound hand and foot and confined to your room until we are ready to leave!”

  Wickham opened the door to address Agnes. “Keep this door locked, and do not let Mrs. Darcy inside!”

  Catching the glare that Gisela gave her behind Wickham’s back, Agnes’ eyes became big as saucers as she nodded her consent. The door was pulled shut again with a loud bang, leaving both women staring at it. Then Agnes stepped forward to turn the key in the latch.

  “Stand guard here and make sure my orders are followed!” Wickham demanded of someone they could not see before addressing Gisela again. “Now go upstairs to your room. Stay there until I tell you to get ready to depart!”

  With his parting words, Wickham’s heavy footsteps could be heard stalking in the opposite direction. Next the sound of something crashing to the floor was followed by Gisela’s fiery response.

  “WE SHALL SEE ABOUT THAT!”

  After a few minutes of complete silence, Agnes turned to find that Elizabeth was watching her wide-eyed. Swallowing hard, the lump now in her throat making it a more difficult task, she considered what to do next. She had not signed on to be a party to murder.

  “Maybe I was wrong to think Mr. Wickham will be able to keep ya safe, after all.”

  ~~~*~~~

  Percival Manor

  The Library

  All of the men who were to be engaged in the rescue gathered in the huge library, one and all circling a round table which held a map and a crude drawing. The map of the county had been fetched by Mrs. Watwood from Lord Percival’s study, while the drawing was a configuration of the grounds of Stillwater Manor as Lord Matlock remembered them to be. There was also a smaller drawing showing the inside of the house as he recollected it as well.

  Due to his experience developing strategy as a decorated officer, William felt that Richard could best determine how to breech the manor house and free Elizabeth. More to the point, William was well aware that his own thoughts were so disjointed that he should let someone with more objectivity take charge. Thus, he had entrusted his cousin with planning the execution of their mission. And plan he had—dividing everyone into groups.

  Once they had all reached the estate, each group was to make their way around the mansion and attack from a different direction. Bingley, Lord Landingham and Sergeant Pugh would advance from the east, while Lord Matlock, Colonel Neilson and Sergeant Robeson would do the same from the west. Matlock’s three best shots, Hocutt, Ross and Marris, would make their way to the rear of the manor and move forward from the area of the stables. As everyone advanced, they would join with the others. This would likely sweep the perimeters of any of the enemy in the process.

  While the others created a diversion, Richard, Darcy and Darcy’s men, Milligan and Burke, would slip into the house via the front entrance and try to secure Elizabeth as well as capture Wickham and Gisela, if she was there. That left two of Lord Landingham’s men, Marks and Sampson, to watch the front of the house in case some of Wickham’s crew managed to slip in behind those who went in the front. If they were not able to get a clear shot with their weapons, they were to follow and take them by surprise. Mr. Gladstone insisted on coming, so Richard had put him in charge of the horses, saying he was too valuable to risk getting killed, and his service lay in treating those that might be injured.

  “We have no way of knowing if the cloudy skies will hold and the moon will be hidden, nor do we know if Wickham will think to light torches around the perimeter of the house. No moon and no torches will help our efforts, but remember what I say—no shots in the dark! We are most vulnerable to being shot by each other. Know your target before you squeeze that trigger. Better still, if possible, take them down with a knife!” Richard held up a knife with a curved blade. “Does everyone have one of these?” Heads nodded. “Good! My experience with this type of low-life is that most will run at the first sign of trouble, as they are not trained to fight. That is not to say some will not stand their ground if confronted. There always seems to be one who will take you on when you least expect it.”

  Richard stood, took his glass of brandy and downed it in two gulps before motioning to a muscular, middle-aged man who had entered the room quietly and taken a seat in the back without notice. “Mr. Carver, would you come forward?”

  The man stood and took his place next to Richard. “Mr. Carver is the local constable. Mrs. Watwood sent for him at my request. I thought he should be aware of what was occurring in his jurisdiction. He has agreed to join us, and I have asked him to assist Marks and Sampson in covering the front door after Darcy, Milligan, Burke and I go inside.”

  There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the room.

  “Are there any questions?”

  Sampson ventured, “How do you propose to get inside—knock on the door and ask politely?”

  Laughter eased the tension in the assembly. Even William smiled, though it faded almost as quickly as it had formed.

  “I do not expect they shall welcome us so warmly,” Richard answered. “If we cannot slip inside easily, we shall force a window or two. It would be better to have the element of surprise on our side, but it is not an absolute requirement. In any event, once we are found out, there is nothing to do but act and act fast!”

  “Any more questions?” Silence reigned. “Then I suggest you try to get some rest. It will be dark before we know it.”

  ~~~*~~~

  Chapter 43

  Stillwater Manor

  That evening after dark

  As the carriages, horses and men headed towards Stillwater Manor that evening, Richard was uncharacteristically silent. Being a military officer, it was his custom to rehearse every aspect of what was to occur right up to the last minute. He had been in enough skirmishes to know that even the best laid plans often depended on factors one could not control, and as he pulled back the
curtain at the window to gaze up at the sky, a slight upturn of his lips was the only indication that he was pleased. He had asked God to hide the moon that night, and it seemed that prayer had been answered in his favour. The clouds that had gathered earlier in the day had not abated, but increased. A misting rain now accompanied them on their mission.

  When they arrived at the ironwork gate to the estate, the three carriages, brought to transport any injured back to Percival’s home, were emptied of their occupants and were hidden with cut limbs and brush. The group then continued down the long, winding drive via horseback. It was not an easy trek, as most of the gravel had been lost long ago, a sign that it had not been used in years. When they got within two-hundred yards of the manor itself, the signal was given to dismount, and they began to walk their horses the rest of the way, hoping to be undetected.

  Approaching the once beautiful front lawn, now equally overgrown and unkempt, it was clear that Wickham had remembered to light the torches and, unfortunately, they were doing their job in spite of the mist. Richard led his stallion into the trees, tied him and waited for the others to do likewise before voicing his concern.

  “We must eliminate the torches. Each group will take a horse blanket and smother the flames on your side of the house.” As the men proceeded to strip blankets from their horses, he added, “Remember, no shooting wildly in the dark. These blackguards will likely panic, but we must not. All of you, except those approaching from the rear, keep watch on the front lawn. When that torch goes dark, that is your signal to begin. For you in the back, just bide your time. If we are detected, those in the stables should rush out to discover what is happening and, if so, take them from behind.”

  Richard looked around the group of men one last time, meeting every eye but lingering on his father’s at the end. He prayed that the anxiety he felt for the oldest members of their group, his father and Landingham, was not plainly evident. He knew he must appear confident of their ability to do the job and not be killed in the process. When he spoke, his voice was unusually rough with emotion.