Page 12 of Elizabeth’s Refuge (Mr. Underwood’s Elizabeth & Darcy Stories #16)
Darcy paced back and forth and back again on the ground floor room of the house they had gathered in to wait for General Fitzwilliam’s soldiers.
Anxiety ate at the back of his throat. He’d brought Elizabeth down, supporting her with his arm as she needed help still to get down the stairs.
Now she sat pale faced but composed in a winged armchair that she made to look like a throne.
Elizabeth was astonishing, the way she could keep some sort of calmness at such a moment.
He could not.
It was three quarters of an hour after Richard sent his message out when ten soldiers on horseback clattered up to the entrance of Darcy’s house.
They dismounted as a body. All of them wore the splendid red-coated uniforms of the British army, and they carried the long muskets of the infantry with them, in addition to pistols and cavalry sabers.
A splendidly armed and well equipped group.
They entered the house, General Fitzwilliam embraced the young officer who led them, a lean young major with fine sideburns. “Excellent. Are you ready to defy law and order if you must?”
The officer smirked, “If I must .”
“I’ll do my part to keep from getting the whole gang of us hung, but I make no promise.”
“Of course not, sir.” He grinned back and raised his eyebrows.
Darcy studied the officer, who had the uniform of a major. While Lord Lechery and General Fitzwilliam looked a little similar, looking at this man was like looking at one of Richard’s brothers.
“My aide de camp,” General Fitzwilliam introduced the officer to Darcy and Elizabeth, “Major Williams.”
Darcy shook the officer’s hand, while Elizabeth smiled and inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet you, Major Williams,” she said in her clear, pleasant voice.
“And likewise, madam.” He bowed smiling at the pretty woman, and Darcy had to suppress a jealous instinct.
General Fitzwilliam studied the group of his men with satisfaction.
He then said to Darcy’s butler, “Around, around now. The carriage.” He stepped to the window and peered out again with a frown.
“Our friend Mr. Blight is gone. I suspect he is reporting the arrival of the men to his slaver.” He clapped his hands.
“Let’s move. Quick now. Battle waits for no man. ”
Elizabeth had a decidedly amused smile.
“What entertains you?” Darcy quietly said to her.
“Just that I once considered you to be the one with the demanding, and commanding manner, and him to be the one who served at your leisure.” She smirked, mischievously so both dimples showed.
“I clearly recall Colonel Fitzwilliam’s complaints upon how you put off the date of departure, which was a problem as you both travelled in your carriage. ”
“I had a particular reason to desire to stay in the neighborhood, as you may recall.” Darcy smiled back, unable to resist her amusement.
“Now he is commanding your carriage. Such is the difference the rank of General makes.”
“I hope, by Jove, I hope the General knows what he is about.”
“I as well,” Elizabeth replied.
“Rise, rise!” Colonel Fitzwilliam waved at them both. “Your conveyance awaits, Mrs. Benoit.”
Elizabeth took Darcy’s offered arm, and she tottered forward. Every moment Darcy watched her, worried that she would become sick again, or faint, or something else horrible.
A freezing wind whipped them, lashing through their heavy coats and scarves as they crossed the dozen feet from the entry steps, over the hard city cobblestones, to the waiting carriage.
Elizabeth shivered, and she looked around, as if she was more frightened by the cold than the prospect of being hung.
And then rushing towards them was Mr. Blight, shouting with hints of a Cockney accent, “Halt, stop. Belay that damned whore!” He leapt past General Fitzwilliam’s soldiers and hissed as he grabbed for Elizabeth.
She shuddered back into Darcy’s arms as Darcy prepared to knock the man off his feet.
A soldier grabbed Mr. Blight by the back of his coat and hurled him around onto the ground.
Behind Mr. Blight two men in the uniforms of the Bow Street Runners, one of them pulling at the pistol in his belt, which he pointed at the man who’d manhandled Mr. Blight. “Stop, halt! As you serve King George, halt!”
Elizabeth’s hand gripped Darcy’s arm like a claw. The two of them stepped forward quickly towards the carriage. Darcy dragged her forward.
The carriage door was pulled open by the footman as soon as they reached it, and rather than letting Elizabeth try to find the steps and lift herself into the carriage, Darcy picked her up by the waist, and lowered her into the waiting conveyance.
He ignored the Bow Street Runner shouting behind him, knowing that Richard’s troops all had pointed their muskets towards the officer of the law.
Elizabeth’s waist was slender and firm underneath his hands.
He immediately climbed into the warm interior of the carriage after Elizabeth, while General Fitzwilliam jumped in the other side.
A Bow Street Runner pointed his pistol at the carriage, but the soldier who’d tossed Mr. Blight to the ground pointed his musket at the man and said in a thick Scot’s accent, “If ye point not tha’ dam’d toy elsewhere than at my general’s carriage, blow ye to hell, I will. By Jesu, I will blow ye to hell.”
The Darcys’ driver, an old family retainer who was completely unflappable, shook the reins out, and clicked for the horses to move.
The carriage rolled away as the confrontation continued.
Half the soldiers continued to point their weapons at the Bow Street Runners and Mr. Blight, while the rest led by Major Williams mounted and formed up around the carriage to provide an escort through the city.
One of the other Bow Street Runners ran in front of the carriage, and pulled his pistol out to aim at one of the horses, but before he could shoot, a soldier batted him calmly in the head with the stock of his musket, as if the presence of the pistol was not of the slightest moment, and the man went down easily.
The carriage driver carefully and slowly directed his horses around the downed man, as he started to come to his fours, so that he wasn’t trampled under.
The Bow Street Runner who had first shouted put his pistol away, but he yelled pointing at the carriage, “That woman is under arrest for theft and assault upon a peer of the realm. If you do not wish to be charged with a crime as an accomplice, you will stop and let me take her into custody! As you love the king!”
The Scottish soldier spat. “I love me the king. But ye, I believe ye not. Ye are just a common highwayman wearin’ some fancy get up, I ‘spect.”
The Bow Street Runner pulled out a piece of paper to wave at the soldier as the carriage turned around the corner. The last look Darcy had of the two was the soldier spitting on the warrant paper and shouting, “I cannae read ye fuul, but I be sure ye wish to put some forgery on me.”
And after just another two minutes they were out into the big avenue of Piccadilly Street.
The interior of his carriage was almost stuffy and over warm from the profusion of wrapped heating bricks and hot water bottles that had been prepared to ensure Elizabeth would stay comfortable. Darcy closed his eyes and breathed in. He could smell Elizabeth’s scent, and that comforted him.
General Fitzwilliam laughed. “Did you hear that? Ferguson can read better than any of us, except you, I dare say, Mrs. Benoit. They take their grammar seriously in Scotland, being Presbyterians — but that fool man’ll never know.
Hopefully we’ll be on ship, and floating down the Thames by the time the runners can catch up to us again — by the way, Darcy, I will need a fair amount of money from you .
I gave orders to the ship to take its departure the instant we all get up on her, but there’ll not be time to gather all the men aboard before time, so I’ve given orders to Major Williams to lay out the regiment’s money and credit for the rest of the soldiers to get private transport to Calais, and to meet the rest of the regiment there before we march to Cambrai.
You are going to reimburse the regiment for that expense. ”
Darcy laughed. “My money will at last be good for something. How much are we talking?”
“Private transit across the channel for at least a hundred fifty, more like two hundred men? That will run you between three and six hundred guineas I suspect.”
“Just have the bill sent over. Just have it sent over. Or, soon as we have a stable writing surface, I’ll write you a check against my Childe’s Bank account for six hundred, and trust your honor to return me any change.”
“I swoon at the trust you give me.”
“So much!” Elizabeth screeched. “You surely cannot spend so much upon me.”
“Shhh.” Darcy smiled at her. “Relax. It is nothing to me.”
“It is something to me .”
“You both are only humoring me,” General Fitzwilliam said, “by providing an opportunity to laugh at Lord Lechery, and spoil the cream in one of his schemes.”
“I am happy to nearly beat a peer of the realm to death, anytime you wish,” Elizabeth replied aseptically. “But six hundred pounds is still six hundred pounds.”
“A fine tautology.”
Darcy placed his hand on Elizabeth’s arm. If his cousin wasn’t here he would have placed his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder and pulled her closer against him.
“I swear, Elizabeth, I swear by all the trees and sheep in Derbyshire, that you are worth anything to me, to rescue and protect. The money I spend to protect your life shall be the finest money I have ever spent.”
“Well, if it is an oath upon sheep and trees, then it appears I have no choice but to accept your aid.”