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After finally finding the time to talk to Charlotte about Mr Collins, Elizabeth decided she had done exactly the right thing: nothing .

Charlotte had things in hand, and her intervention would have been both presumptuous and superfluous.

After speaking with her friend for several minutes, Charlotte was called away by Lady Lucas, and Elizabeth went to the refreshments table for a glass of wine.

As she was enjoying her drink, she was startled by a very agitated Kitty. “Lizzy, you must come help me!”

Liking neither the call for help nor the volume of her sister’s voice, she pulled her aside and made certain they were several steps from any possible eavesdroppers, thinking she had pushed her luck with overheard conversations quite enough for one fortnight.

“Calm down, Kitty, and tell me the problem… quietly! ”

Looking chagrined, Kitty explained, “Lydia is in the garden with Mr Wickham.”

“Mr Wickham?” Elizabeth snapped in surprised consternation, looking around to ensure they were not overheard.

After meeting the soldier briefly in the street a week earlier, she spoke with him for a quarter-hour in her aunt’s parlour, saw him leave the house once when returning from Netherfield, and had otherwise not seen or thought about him.

Mr Wickham seemed the least significant man of her acquaintance.

“What in the world is he doing with Lydia… and why did she go with him for that matter? Has that girl no sense at all?”

Kitty fidgeted nervously. “I told her not to, but you know Lydia. She wants to be the hero. Mr Wickham says he has crucial information about Mr Darcy. He says he is a very-very bad man, and he has proof.”

“If Mr Darcy is so terrible, and Mr Wickham so gallant, why is he sneaking around in the garden instead of speaking with our father? It makes no sense!”

Kitty shook her head, and Elizabeth got the sinking feeling her sisters had read one too many novels where the heroine saved the day when they did not have the maturity to realize it almost never worked out that way.

Elizabeth sighed. “Why did you not go with her as chaperone?”

“I tried… but… Lydia slipped away.”

Elizabeth wanted to smack her forehead in frustration but suspected it would be pointless.

She looked around for Darcy and saw him happily dancing with Georgiana.

She did not want to kick up a fuss, but she was not wild about spending a lot of time dragging Lydia away from Mr Wickham.

She could not imagine he was doing anything too nefarious, but simply meeting Lydia in the garden alone would cause trouble enough. Discretion was necessary.

“All right, here is what we shall do. It is imperative nobody knows what a dunderheaded move Lydia has made. All our reputations can be damaged by her stupidity. I know she is playing the hero, but she is doing something inordinately dangerous.”

“Might he hurt her?” Kitty asked.

“I doubt it. He is a militia officer, not a common criminal. She will be fine if nobody knows where she is and with whom,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “The most important thing for you is to keep your mouth shut.”

Kitty nodded vigorously, and Elizabeth thought there was at least some chance her younger sister might keep her tongue in her head.

Elizabeth looked again. “Let us do this quietly! We do not want anyone to know what we are about… most especially our mother.”

Kitty nodded again.

“We do not want to sow panic. This dance ends in a few minutes. Wait for it to end, isolate Mr Darcy from his sister, and tell him what you told me.”

“What if Mr Wickham is telling the truth?” Kitty asked nervously.

“It is very unlikely, but if he has some actual proof, I will have seen it by the time Mr Darcy arrives and deal with it appropriately.”

Kitty looked dubious but willing.

“Isolate him from his sister, send him out to find me in the gardens, then spend the next dance talking to Miss Darcy.”

“All right, Lizzy,” Kitty said, becoming more dubious by the minute.

~~~~~

It took a quarter-hour to wander through the gardens calling Lydia’s name softly to find her missing sister, and what she found did not fill her with confidence.

They were at the folly at least a hundred yards from the house, arguing vigorously and in voices that would carry if anyone were in the gardens to hear. The only thing saving them was that it was November, and most people had enough sense to stay indoors.

“Lydia, what are you doing?” Elizabeth said with the sternest voice she could muster.

When the pair heard her, Lydia snapped her head around to look, while Wickham gave a very ungentlemanlike sneer. “Miss Lydia and I are engaged!”

“ We are not! ” Lydia screamed hysterically.

He laughed. “We most certainly are. I told several comrades in arms we were meeting here for a clandestine elopement, and you have been alone with me for a half hour. You are compromised, my dear.”

Elizabeth snapped, “She absolutely is not. I was with her the whole time. Do you seriously believe your word will beat mine?”

“It matters not. Ladies’ reputations are as brittle as they are beautiful.

Just the whiff of scandal will be enough to send your beau packing.

You will be neither the first nor last lady he has abandoned to her fate.

I am only wondering if he has your virtue yet.

Tonight would be right on schedule if he keeps to his usual form. ”

“ He most certainly will not! You cast aspersions on his character, yet it is you trying and failing to abscond with my sister.”

The look in the man’s eyes finally convinced Elizabeth she was dealing with a truly dangerous man. She had never been exposed to one so found herself unprepared to even accept the possibility—much to her regret.

“We shall see,” said he, and grabbed Lydia by the forearm in a vise-like grip and started dragging her towards the drive thirty yards away.

Belatedly, Elizabeth saw a coach waiting. She recognized neither the coach nor the driver, so it was not a local she could work on.

Lydia let out a muffled scream as the man started dragging her backwards toward the coach. The ladies were so shocked, that for the time it took him to drag her halfway, neither got their wits about them enough to even struggle.

Elizabeth abruptly came to her senses and sprinted across the intervening distance to grab hold of Lydia’s other arm. For a moment, they played tug-of-war until startled by a loud voice shouting menacingly.

“ Wickham! This is the last straw. Walk away if you want to live!” Darcy bellowed from a dozen yards away.

Elizabeth yelled, “ William! ” in great relief.

Wickham abruptly let go of Lydia’s arm and shoved her hard toward Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth stumbled, he jumped over the top of Lydia, who had fallen, grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, and dragged her back until he stopped with his back against the folly, presumably so nobody could sneak up on him.

While she was reeling in surprise, he dragged her against his chest, held her left arm tightly against his chest, grabbed her right wrist in his left hand to hold her fast— and held a knife against her throat.

Wickham sneered menacingly. “Not this time, Darcy! For once you will pay what you owe me!”

“I owe you nothing,” Darcy said through clenched teeth, though with the knife at Elizabeth’s throat and her eyes as big as saucers, he said it with far more gentleness than he might have.

“Yes, you do! You paid me a pittance for the living your father designed for me. He intended me for better things.”

“Believe as much if it gives you comfort, but what I gave you was far too much. Three thousand pounds for a living of three hundred is a decade of income without having to wait, take orders, make sermons, or do anything at all. Not my fault if you frittered it away gambling.”

“It is no matter. I have your piece of fluff here… and by the way… have you tapped that keg yet?” he said with a leer, while the knife wandered back and forth, and Elizabeth cringed in terrified embarrassment.

“What is your plan, Wickham?” Darcy asked, while Lydia, who had climbed unsteadily to her feet, stood in dumbfounded horror, muttering, “My fault… my fault… my fault… my…”

Elizabeth spoke gently but loud enough to be heard. “This is not your fault, Lydia. You could not have known the depravity of this man. Neither of us has ever known true evil.”

“I would be careful with that wicked tongue if I were you, little Miss Priss!” Wickham hissed menacingly, while pulling the knife out in front of her face so she could see it clearly and presumably reflect on her fate long enough to be quiet.

“Coward,” she muttered, to which he growled and moved the knife closer.

“How do you imagine this ends, Wickham? You know I will never let you leave with her.”

“Well… since my life is forfeit if I let her go, I suppose we will see. Your Miss Bennet is about to take a little trip. I will give you my word of honour as a gentleman I will not touch her, and you can retrieve her for the very reasonable price of ten thousand. Come come, Darcy… old Simonson probably has that much tucked away under his valet’s cot. ”

“I will not go with you,” Elizabeth said, though her eyes were cast down far enough to watch the blade that was back against her throat and her belligerence came out much closer to a squeak than a roar.

“All right, I will give you what you ask, but I assure you if you harm one hair on her head, or spill one drop of blood, I will take you back to Pemberley and drop you down the Cubar mineshaft with a quart of water to enjoy the spiders and snakes in the dark for the remainder of your brief, miserable life.”