Page 28 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ABHORRENT DISGUISE
T he carriage went off at a rapid pace, and Elizabeth, leaning forwards in the small space, urged Mr Wickham, “Pray, tell me what you know.”
“In truth, I do not know very much,” he replied regretfully. “I heard there was more trouble among the men down there. Their colonel is a dreadful man, heartless and very cruel, so it does not surprise me. Several of his men got into an argument with him—again I do not know why, but they were brought up on charges and at least one of them is to be flogged today at the hour of three.”
“And Lydia needed to be a part of it.” Elizabeth sighed and just barely restrained a sob. “What can she be thinking?”
“She is thinking with a young girl’s curiosity, a girl who knows not how bad things can be.”
“How far is it, exactly?”
Mr Wickham winced. “Above ten miles. But I hope we may come upon them along the road.”
“Who is with her?”
“Denny, Captain Carter… Mrs Forster may have gone as well, I know not.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand against her forehead and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. “I suppose I must take consolation in knowing she is not alone.”
“No,” said Mr Wickham, and Elizabeth startled, opening her eyes. He had changed seats to be next to her on the small bench. She instinctively moved to put some space between them.
“She is not alone, and neither are you,” he finished. There was something odd in the way he said so, and the peculiarity was reflected in his countenance as well.
“Th-thank you,” she said.
They had left the road that went along the contour of the seaside and appeared to be driving off into the countryside. Elizabeth knew she was not familiar enough with Brighton to understand its geography in full…but it seemed to her they were not moving in the right direction. “Does the driver understand where we are going?”
“Oh yes,” said Mr Wickham, sitting back a little to Elizabeth’s relief. “He is well aware. He must know a quicker route.”
Quicker than directly up the coast? Elizabeth forced an uncertain smile and was reassured by Mr Wickham’s easy smile in reply.
Happily, Fitzwilliam had supplied Darcy with the exact address where the Forsters, with Elizabeth, stayed. It was a neat little house not a mile north of the coast. Darcy did not hesitate, going there directly and presenting himself at the door. He was shown into a small drawing room wherein sat an older matron with Miss Lydia Bennet and Mrs Forster. The older lady looked at him appraisingly while being introduced as Mrs Hamilton, Mrs Forster’s mother.
“I am looking for Miss Bennet,” he began.
“Out wandering round the Promenade, no doubt,” Miss Lydia replied immediately. “Or sitting in one of the benches. That is all she does all day long.”
Carefully, Darcy said, “I have reason to believe she may have gone…somewhere…with George Wickham. In a carriage. Do you know anything about that?”
“Oh yes, now that you mention it,” Mrs Forster said. “Mr Wickham did say something about an excursion to… Mother, do you recollect what he said?”
“When a man is that handsome,” Mrs Hamilton declared, “an old lady like me finds it difficult to care about what he speaks of.”
Miss Lydia and Mrs Forster both burst into giggles. Darcy clenched his jaw briefly, then forced himself to calmly ask, “Do you think Miss Bennet went off with him, then?”
“Stammer Park!” Miss Lydia exclaimed. “I remember it now, because I thought it was such a funny name! Who would call their house Stammer Park?”
“ Stan mer Park?” Darcy clarified impatiently.
“Oh yes, he said there were some of them going to see the woods. Sounded ghastly dull,” Miss Lydia opined.
“But Elizabeth was not here at the time, so we can only presume he found her and persuaded her to go with him,” said Mrs Forster.
Darcy thought it extraordinary that she had no notion of the whereabouts of a young lady who was a guest in her home in a place such as Brighton, who may or may not have got into a carriage with a reprobate.
But he said none of that, only thanked them and set off to find Elizabeth.
It was not long before Elizabeth’s concern had blossomed into full-blown fear. They were headed away from Brighton yet nowise driving in the direction of East Blatchington. She was positive they were headed north, and yet Mr Wickham reassured her often that it was a shortcut, and all was as it should be.
“Sir,” she began again, “I really cannot think that the driver understands?—”
To her astonishment, Mr Wickham shushed her, leaning over her and bringing his face far too near to her own. Was it brandy on his breath?
“Elizabeth, do not worry.”
She drew back as much as she could. “I am excessively worried about my sister.”
“You need not be,” he said. “She is safe in the Forsters’ house, no doubt drinking sherry and gossiping the day away.”
Elizabeth stared at him, unable to comprehend him. “Then why?—”
“You know why.” He levelled a serious look at her that she hoped was not meant to be seductive. “I thought it would be nice for you and me to have some time…to ourselves.”
“But the flogging…” she said stupidly.
“There is no flogging. I daresay those fellows are just as wild and happy today as ever they are.” He reached over and trailed a now-ungloved finger alongside her cheek. “Thank heavens you did not marry a dullard like Darcy. I see your fire, darling Elizabeth. I think you like to be a little wild and happy yourself sometimes.”
“You are incorrect.” She moved to the backwards-facing bench. “Mr Wickham, I am afraid you have this all wrong. I do not, in any way, wish to be in an enclosed carriage with you and am very concerned for my reputation. Pray, turn the carriage round and let us return to Brighton.”
“Cannot do that, my sweet.” He smiled and moved to join her on her bench. “Come now. You have nearly driven me mad with your…lively spirits. Your smiles have made me promises that I should now like to collect on.”
“Please take me back.” She hated how weak and tremulous her voice sounded. Oh, of all the stupidity! That she should be the fool to be taken advantage of, while Lydia was safe at home!
He laid a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, and she jerked away from him. He smirked at her discomfort.
“I cannot tell you how many people in Hertfordshire told me that your sister was the beauty of the family, but I always told them I could not agree. For it was you who stirred my blood—but I have always enjoyed a more sensual beauty.”
What was the expected reply to such words, so obviously intended to seduce? Did he think her so stupid that she would fall into his arms on this bit of flattery? Then again, you fell into his carriage with a bit of a falsehood.
She looked out of the window at the passing landscape and considered the mad notion of climbing out of it, or at least yelling up to the coachman for help. But Mr Wickham had hired the coachman. Perhaps he was in on the scheme himself. If word got out about this, would she be ruined?
Mr Wickham leant across her and pulled down the curtain. He then did the same on his side, plunging them into shadows. “No one will ever know,” he murmured into her ear, his breath hot and moist. “A few kisses, and then we will turn back.”