Page 13 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet
Elizabeth’s Bedchamber
Longbourn
An Hour Later
The pages of Jane’s book rustled as she turned them. Elizabeth did not open her eyes and kept her breathing steady. The curtains had been mostly drawn, leaving only a narrow strip to shed light on Jane’s book. The dim was soothing, and Elizabeth desperately needed soothing. Jane sat ready to spring to Elizabeth’s aid, fetching water or tea or a pillow and producing copious amounts of sympathy, but Elizabeth wanted only to think.
Her shoulder throbbed, fiery pain pulsing across the wound. The sheet had been drawn down to avoid rubbing over the bandaging, and she held very still to prevent jarring it. It was not a bad one, as far as wounds went; Mr. Jones had been very cheerful and optimistic as he wrapped it up and prescribed plenty of rest. Nonetheless, it pained her.
She was desperately grateful to be alive. Someone had shot her, tried to kill her. She had only been saved by her chance decision to bend over to coax a wayward puppy toward her. Why would someone wish to kill her?
Her dear Uncle Bennet had provided a possibility when he came up to check on her and share his suspicions. He suspected an attempt on her life in connection with the Scottish estate – perhaps her estranged half-brother or her cruel stepmother, seeking to enlarge their own holdings. It seemed incredible to Elizabeth that her own family – for they were, indeed, family by blood – would seek to kill her for the sake of a distant estate.
If, she reflected, the Stowes truly were behind the attempt on her life, it would seem to prove that she was indeed the heiress. It was a cold comfort, with Scotland so far and the burning sting of her shoulder so very near. She wondered uneasily if the unknown assassin would seek to finish the job that he had failed at accomplishing. But she knew her uncle would protect her, and he had said that Mr. Darcy had pledged to do the same.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and sighed it out slowly, releasing her tension with it. She eased over onto her back, holding still to see if this would hurt her shoulder too badly, and after a moment and a stolen glance at Jane through her lashes, Elizabeth began to silently form words to herself, already feeling sleep tug at her over-wrought mind. Our Father Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name…
/
Wickham’s Bedchamber
Pig in the Poke
A stream of light, which had been drifting across the bed, finally reached the upturned face of George Wickham. For a few minutes, he managed to remain asleep, but eventually the bright light, along with the sounds of the busy road below his window, caused him to groan once, then twice, and eventually to open his eyes.
He rolled onto his side and allowed one hand to escape the mound of covers. The room was not terribly cold, and now that he was paying attention, he could hear the soft rustling and crackling of a fire. The Pig in the Poke did not stint on wood for its guests, and the servants who crept into the room early in the morning to light the fire were quiet.
He rolled onto his back again and stared blearily at the top of the four-poster bed. He had stayed up too late and drank too much, but at least the cards had been kind to him. He had risen from the table, and stumbled up the stairs, three pounds the richer .
He should get up, as there was some sort of training exercise on the commons later in the day; a tedious affair, no doubt, but he had best be on time. Colonel Forster was reputably a stickler for punctuality.
He threw aside his covers, rolled to his feet, pulled his nightcap a little farther down on his head, took a step toward the fireplace and then yelped in surprise.
A tall, elegant, familiar, and most unwelcome man sat on a wooden chair by the fire, one Mr. Darcy, in fact, who regarded Wickham coolly. “Well, Wickham, you at least appear to be sleeping the sleep of the innocent.”
“Darcy!” Wickham snapped, bewilderment giving way to outrage. “What are you doing here? How dare you walk into my room and sit around as I – when I am asleep! Get out, now!”
“I have the landlord’s permission to be here,” Darcy replied drily. “Do sit down, Wickham, before you fall down. How much did you drink last night?”
Wickham was inclined to stand tall and proud in outrage, but his head was throbbing, his throat was dry, and he was wearing night clothes and a night cap; it was quite impossible to be dignified. He sullenly sat down on the chair across from his enemy, accepted a glass of water from Darcy’s hand, and drank it down .
“Why must you persecute me?” he demanded sullenly. “I am trying to begin a new life here, and you must needs...”
“Miss Elizabeth Stowe of Longbourn was shot two hours ago while walking outside.”
Wickham’s resentful speech died in his throat, and his eyes bugged out with astonished horror. “Miss Stowe? Shot? Killed? ”
“By the grace of God, no,” Darcy replied, and his expression eased a trifle. “She bent down at the providential moment, and was merely grazed by the bullet. She will survive and thrive.”
“Well, thank the Lord for that,” Wickham said in obvious relief.
Darcy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “And why are you so thankful for her survival?”
Wickham rose to pour himself another glass of water, which allowed him to avoid Darcy’s fixed gaze.
“I would imagine,” he said, “that surely you are well aware of why I am thankful. She is the only heiress of any note in the area, and I must wed a lady of substance. She is also a nice young woman, and despite what you may think of me, I would not like to see her harmed. ”
He tossed the water down his throat and felt the better for it, though his head still swam a trifle.
“Why are you here?” Wickham demanded, turning to glare at his unwanted guest. “It is a horrible thing to happen, but...”
He trailed off, his eyes wide with incredulity. “But wait, you cannot, surely you ... you do not think I had anything to do with this dreadful event!?”
Darcy rose smoothly to his full height, and Wickham was conscious, once again, of burning resentment. It was bad enough that Darcy was the wealthy master of a great estate, but he was taller than Wickham, had as fine a figure as Wickham, and was arguably more handsome than Wickham. Only in charm and speech did the steward’s son have any advantage over the master of Pemberley.
“Did you have anything to do with the assault on Elizabeth Stowe?” Darcy demanded, his eyes fixed on Wickham’s face.
“As God is my witness, no!” Wickham proclaimed, bitterness giving way to alarm. “I would never do such a thing! Indeed, why would I? I need to marry an heiress, not kill her!”
Darcy relaxed openly and wandered over to the window. He drew aside the curtains, presumably to stare down at the people outside scurrying to and fro and then turned back. “I believe you, Wickham, and I am glad that I do. You and I are not on good terms, but even I did not imagine you would commit murder.”
“Well, I would not under any circumstances,” Wickham returned irritably. “Now, if that is all, will you kindly leave my chamber so I can dress?”
“Wickham, it seems likely that Miss Stowe’s attacker is new to Meryton, and the militia officers and men are the most obvious of the recent arrivals. I daresay you do not know much about the privates, but I want to know the names of your fellow officers in the regiment, plus your impressions of them.”
“You cannot be serious!” Wickham protested. “Now I am to serve as your informant? What is in it for me?”
Darcy lifted one eyebrow and said, “You know, Wickham, the last time I saw my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, he had something to say about you... Hmmm, what was it? I believe it was something along the lines of ‘if I ever find out where that miscreant is hiding, I will hunt him down and knock out at least four of those white teeth of his.’ He is still quite hot under the collar about Ramsgate, you see, as am I.”
Wickham could feel himself growing paler, and he retreated a safe distance away. “Darcy, I am merely trying to begin a new life for myself here. ”
“Yes, after seeking to destroy my sister’s life a few months ago. I am well aware.”
“I would not have destroyed it! I am very fond of Miss Darcy!”
“You would have run through her dowry in record time, and almost certainly have been unfaithful.”
“I would have spent lavishly,” Wickham admitted, “but I would have been faithful.”
Darcy scowled. “Do not lie to me; I well remember your rakish ways at Cambridge. You never could resist a pretty woman.”
“Yes,” Wickham returned irritably, “but I also have a great respect for my own skin. If I was unfaithful to Georgiana, I am confident that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam would make certain that I was appropriately punished. I am not such a fool!”
Darcy considered this thoughtfully, and then said, “Perhaps that is true, but you would leave my sister impoverished.”
“How could she be impoverished with the Darcy coffers at her beck and call…?”
He trailed off at the angry look in Darcy’s eyes and said meekly, “Very well. I will write up a list of all the officers and what I know about each one of them. ”
“Good. I want it by tomorrow morning.”
/
Drawing Room
Longbourn
Evening
A cozy glow filled the room, the drapes drawn shut against the encroaching night, the fire leaping merrily in the hearth. Elizabeth sat in the chair closest to the warmth, a shawl draped carefully over her shoulders, concealing her dressing gown beneath. Her shoulder still pained her when she moved too quickly, but she had awoken with hunger gnawing at her belly, and the sharp pangs had seen her sending for a tray to be brought to her room.
She had lain back on her pillows to rest after Sally removed the tray, but it had not been long before the very walls of her room seemed to close in on her. Jane, sympathetic, had helped her don her dressing gown and then had pulled her hair up into a simple bun. Elizabeth eased down the stairs, leaning on Jane with her good arm .
Her younger cousins were delighted to see her, jumping up with quite unbecoming shouts of joy. Kitty tugged the chair closer to the fire and Lydia brought over cushions and pillows for Elizabeth to rest against, while Mary hovered, looking glad. Now Elizabeth leaned against the cushions and smiled as she listened to the girls’ chatter; Lydia and Kitty both talking over each other in their haste, and Mary interjecting quiet comments.
The door opened again, and all the girls looked up. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet entered, the lady on her husband’s arm. Both sported looks of astonishment upon seeing Elizabeth there, tempered with concern.
“Lizzy, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet said, hurrying forward. “Are you quite certain that you should be downstairs?”
Elizabeth smiled gratefully at her aunt and said, “I am certain, yes. I want to know what is happening, and feel better surrounded by those who love me.”
“Oh, my dear,” the matron said, and tears formed in her eyes. “I have never been so grateful to God above, though my nerves will never recover, I am certain! I was frightened out of my wits; and with such tremblings, such flutterings all over me, and such beatings at my heart. My dearest niece, how grieved I am that such a thing happened to you! ”
“Thank you, Aunt. I too am greatly shaken by the events of today. Indeed, I still cannot quite believe it occurred!”
“But who could have done such a thing?” Kitty demanded. “Father, do you know anything about the villain who did this?”
“I do not,” Mr. Bennet replied, walking over to warm his back and legs with the fire. “I rode to Lucas Lodge to speak to Sir William Lucas, who, as magistrate, is responsible for addressing acts of violence and villainy. He was greatly shaken, Lizzy, and asked if you would like Charlotte to visit you today. I suggested tomorrow, as I thought you might sleep the day away.”
“I would like to see Charlotte,” Elizabeth said agreeably.
“But what is Sir William doing , Mr. Bennet?” his wife demanded shrilly. “He has to find out who attacked our poor niece! He needs to keep Elizabeth safe!”
Elizabeth could not help but shiver at these words, and she glanced at the curtained windows. It was absurd to think that anyone would attempt to shoot her from outside the house, and the doors were locked, and she trusted the servants. But still, she felt herself very unsettled indeed at the thought of a nameless murderer stalking her .
“We will keep Elizabeth safe,” Bennet stated. “My dear girls, I have already spoken to the servants, but will tell you now; we will henceforth keep all doors locked except the front door, and I want you to leave and enter Longbourn only through the front door. I also must order that for now, until we have better determined the situation, none of you are to wander alone outside.”
The only person who moaned at these words was Elizabeth, who greatly enjoyed her walks, but she, after being the recipient of a stern glare from her uncle, said meekly, “I will stay indoors, of course, for my own safety and to let my shoulder heal. I hope we can solve this mystery sooner than later, though, before I go quite mad!”