Page 29

Curzon Street

Mrs. Jenkinson and Anne were conversing quietly, while Richard, like Darcy, was absorbed in his own thoughts. The carriage made another turn, bearing them ever closer to the street and house that held Darcy's love. Soon enough, he would see his Elizabeth, and his heart thrilled at the thought. Of course, the business of the day had been pressing, establishing Anne's right to rule Rosings. It would not be easy to oust Lady Catherine, but it must be done for the welfare of both the estate and Anne. How brave his cousin was to face her mother with such determination!

Darcy remembered how little Elizabeth had been intimidated by his formidable and irascible aunt, and he grinned proudly. His love was not a lady who took fright easily! He had seen her concerned, yes, but not frightened. Even in the face of Wickham's cruel scheming, her courage had been steadfast. That foul ruffian, to dare hurt two of the women so dear to Darcy! He had not reckoned on Elizabeth's indomitable spirit, however. Darcy's heart warmed with affection. She truly was incomparable, and he prayed that she would soon be his .

“What is this now?” Richard said abruptly, his eyes fixed on the street to their right.

Darcy leaned over to look out the window and felt his heart clench in his chest. A cluster of ladies were standing in the street, and he spied Georgiana, her face streaked with tears, and was that...?

He was out of the carriage without thought, and his long legs carried him over to his darling, to his Elizabeth, who was being supported on one side by his coachman and on the other by Mr. Bennet, her face pale save for a dark red mark around her eye.

“Elizabeth!” he cried out. “What happened?”

“She was attacked by Wickham, Brother!” Georgiana said in a trembling voice. “Oh, Fitzwilliam!”

“We need to bring her indoors, Darcy,” Bennet said curtly.

“Wickham?” he repeated in a dazed voice.

“We have him under guard, sir,” the footman said, and Darcy turned toward the man, who was, along with the Bennet’s butler, standing over the seated form of George Wickham, whose face was twisted with sullen hatred.

“I will take care of Wickham,” Richard stated from his side. “You go with Miss Elizabeth. ”

Darcy nodded, stepped forward, and carefully lifted Elizabeth into his arms.

“Will you please show me to the warmest room in the house?” he requested of Bennet.

***

Coal Cellar

Bennets’ Hired House

Thirty Minutes Later

Wickham blew on his hands and tucked them under his arms, groaning at the pain all this shifting caused him. He threw a resentful glance around the cramped little space where he had been thrown, with no concern at all for his wounds or cleanliness. Narrow slits high in the walls, scarcely deserving of the name windows, let in just enough light – and altogether too much cold air – to illuminate the grimy cellar with its filthy corners and the heap of coal along one wall. Wickham glared about himself. He had already checked the lock on the solid door and had determined that there was no avenue of escape open to him, so he sat down in a miserable huddle to keep as warm as he could in this freezing little cell.

A slight movement sent another stab of pain through his abdomen, and he cursed aloud, lifting his shirt slightly the better to see the angry red wound there. At least the bleeding had stopped now, although every twitch and shift was agony. Nonetheless, he gingerly moved his leg to examine his thigh. That, too, had ceased bleeding, he thought, though perhaps an inch of his breeches clung to his leg, wet and sticky.

Indignation and incredulity filled Wickham's breast as he thought of Lydia Bennet and her fearsome hat pin. Such resistance might be expected of Miss Elizabeth, and he had prepared accordingly – that punch had been extremely satisfying – but he had not anticipated any sort of meaningful defense from the other women present. Certainly he had not imagined that silly, flighty Miss Lydia would leap to her sister's rescue. Though she was built like an Amazon, and seemed to have the strength of one, he had never suspected her to be in the possession of an Amazonian temperament, and he cursed again, darkly, at his own misjudgment.

Wickham carefully tucked his leg in again for warmth, although not carefully enough; he groaned in pain. Remaining perfectly still really was the only way to keep the agony bearable, though he was starting to shiver with the cold. The entire situation was completely untenable, and when at last someone came to see him, he would demand to see a doctor. He should have received prompt medical attention, and the fact that he was left to languish here untended was the height of disgraceful.

Of course, he should never have been caught in the first place! Had Mrs. Younge's useless brothers done as they were paid to do, Wickham would not have fallen into Darcy's and Fitzwilliam's hands. A hundred pounds wasted on cowards. The two men had each been given fifty pounds to assist him in the kidnapping of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with another fifty apiece promised after completion. But even with the lure of such sums, when they had faced the slightest unplanned opposition – a girl with a hat pin! – their oafish natures had won out, and they had run like scared dogs, abandoning Wickham to his undeserved fate. He wished them nothing but misfortune. With any luck, they would be caught and thrown into prison, quite unable to enjoy their ill-gotten gains.

The door opened, and he looked up to observe Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, his face cold with anger, along with two manservants, who strode into the room and grabbed him, each by one arm, and pulled him to his feet. He could not help the cry of pain from the movement, but none of the three men seemed to care about his suffering. He was half dragged, half marched out of the cellar and into a small storeroom which had two chairs and a small table set in the middle of a variety of cupboards, while several hams dangled from hooks in one corner of the room.

He was thrust into the chair the farthest from the door, provoking another guttural groan of agony, and the two servants departed, pushing the door behind him, while Colonel Fitzwilliam lowered himself onto the chair across from him.

“I need a doctor,” Wickham rasped.

“You will not need a doctor when you are dangling at the end of a noose,” Fitzwilliam replied drily.

Wickham shook his head and adjusted himself carefully to mitigate the pain in his leg and abdomen. “I assure you, Fitzwilliam, that you will not wish to have this come to trial, or some very unpleasant information will come to light about Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

This, to his satisfaction, provoked a startled look on the colonel’s face, which then gave way to what Wickham thought was genuine concern.

“What do you mean?” Fitzwilliam said harshly, and Wickham managed a slight smile and said, “Your aunt provided the funding for the abduction of Miss Elizabeth. Reasonably enough, Lady Catherine does not wish for her nephew to be forced to marry a woman of scandalous reputation, and thus made it her business to remove Miss Elizabeth from the scene so that Darcy could be free of his noble, if misguided, offer of marriage to her.”

The colonel’s expression darkened, and Wickham drew back, fearful that the earl’s son would actually strike him. To his profound relief, Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to restrain himself with effort and finally said, “You are saying that Catherine de Bourgh paid you to abduct Miss Elizabeth.”

“She did,” Wickham stated.

“And what were you going to do with her?” the colonel said, his blue eyes as cold as ice.

“We would not have harmed her, of course,” Wickham said in his most genuine tone. “We merely needed to keep her confined for a few days so that it would be apparent to everyone that she was damaged goods.”

“How much did Lady Catherine pay you?” Richard demanded, his body shifting in an obvious display of distress.

“Two hundred pounds,” Wickham replied. He did not bother to inform the colonel that he would have been paid another three hundred pounds after successfully completing his mission, though the thought of that lost opportunity was almost as painful as the wounds in his body .

“Do you have any proof of this accusation?”

Wickham shifted uncomfortably and reached into the pocket of his coat. “Yes, this is a promise from Lady Catherine that she will pay me three hundred pounds after I successfully removed Elizabeth Bennet from Darcy’s life.”

Fitzwilliam grabbed the paper, read it with narrowed eyes, and then said, “I see.”

He stepped over to open the door and ordered, “Take him back to the coal cellar.”

The two servants, who were waiting outside, strode in as Wickham cringed in anticipation of being dragged away.

“Fitzwilliam!” he cried out. “I need a doctor! I need a doctor!”

His appeals went unheeded, and the Colonel disappeared without looking back.

***

Parlor

Drawing Roo m

The Bennets’ Rented House

The pallor of Elizabeth's face was heightened by the livid bruise all around one eye. Her eyes were closed, and she lay very still on a couch drawn near the fire, save for the steady rise and fall of her chest visible beneath the blanket that covered her from throat to slipper. A pillow kept her head elevated, and Miss Bennet bent solicitously over her sister, her blue eyes dark with worry.

Darcy’s eyes remained fastened on Elizabeth's still form. He felt useless, which did not help his state of mind any. His stomach was churning with fury and horror and anxiety as he watched his beloved suffer silently from Wickham's despicable attack. The whole affair was not only abhorrent, but puzzling. What did it profit Wickham to assault Elizabeth this way? Marrying Georgiana would not only spite Darcy, but put Wickham in charge of a very tidy thirty thousand pounds. Abducting Elizabeth gained him nothing.

The door opened, revealing the Bennets’ butler, and behind him was a man dressed soberly in a black jacket and trousers and a white shirt, with a bag in his hand.

“Doctor Stillman,” Darcy said, rising to his feet. “Thank you for coming. ”

“It is my pleasure, Mr. Darcy,” Stillman said with a nod of his head. “Now, would you introduce me to my patient?”

Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, whose eyes were now open, and said, “Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Stillman, my physician. Doctor, my fiancée, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, along with her elder sister and father.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” Elizabeth said with a slight smile, and Darcy felt his heart melt. Even after being attacked, and nearly abducted, Elizabeth retained her courage and courtesy.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. Now, if you gentlemen would be willing to leave so I may examine my patient?”

Darcy cast one anxious look at his darling and obediently passed out of the room along with Bennet.

“Shall we enjoy a small drink to assist in steadying our nerves?” Bennet suggested, guiding him toward the back of the house. Darcy followed and was pleased to discover a small room with a roaring fire and a shelf full of books. Bennet poured himself and his guest brandy, and both drank it down with alacrity. Darcy, at his host’s invitation, sank into a chair by the fire, stared into the flames, and groaned aloud .

“Mr. Bennet,” he said heavily, “I cannot sufficiently express my horror at the events of today. I knew Wickham was a villain, but I never expected in my wildest dreams that he would be so bold, or so cruel, as to actually attack Elizabeth. And I cannot imagine what the rogue hoped to gain by this despicable act.”

Bennet poured another glass of brandy for himself and Darcy and sat down across from the younger man.

“I certainly had no idea either,” the older man said grimly. “Indeed, in the midst of my distress, I find myself confused as well. I simply do not understand why he would do such a thing!”

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh paid him to do it,” a new voice stated, and Darcy turned a startled gaze on his cousin Richard, who was standing in the doorway, his face grim.

“No,” he said in a dazed tone.

“I fear so,” Richard replied.