Dr Hayford arrived at the house of his last patient at a quarter past the eighth hour. The weather was not exactly cold, but the thick fog brought a shiver to his old body and a frown to his white brows. He had been informed that the rescue would take place that night, in fact, as soon as he entered the house.
As he looked around, it was as if he could see his whole life parading before him. His battles and losses, but also his victories and gains. He had always been proud of having served his king and his country. He shook his head and chuckled. Who would ever imagine that at his age he would be doing it again? His breathing was short and irregular, and his heart was like a drum in his ears. Was he fearing death today, after all that he had seen? After all the pain and sorrow his life as an army doctor had propitiated him? Dr Hayford took a deep breath and smiled. If this was to be his last day in this world of God, so be it. He was happy to end his life fighting again for justice and freedom.
With a fresh determination, he knocked on the door.
“Good evening, Doctor,” Brown greeted him gruffly some minutes later, ushering him into the house.
“And a good evening to you, Mr Brown. I hope our young man has maintained his improvement. I am sure he will be able to leave his bedroom by now,” Dr Hayford said as they climbed the stairs. The irony of his words brought another smile to his lips.
They entered the bedroom. Now fully aware of their plight, Dr Hayford looked at Darcy and Elizabeth with renewed kindness. “Good evening Mrs Smith, Mr Smith. Let me see how you are faring this evening. ”
But instead of pulling the old bandages away to proceed with cleaning and re-covering Mr Darcy’s wound, he just added another layer of bandages, as if reinforcing his previous work; the real reason known only to him. In no time, quite different from the previous visits, Dr Hayford had already finished. “Marvellous. I believe—”
A loud noise of shouts and gunshots downstairs interrupted the doctor.
The four heads looked towards the door.
Brown jumped, running to lock the door, but the doctor grabbed him by the neck, and in seconds the two men were involved in a fight. The poor doctor, despite his great efforts, was no match for the much younger and stronger man, quite used to fights in the dark alleys of the Seven Dials.
Darcy was already standing with the intention of helping, when Brown threw Dr Hayford against the chair, as if the old man was no more than a doll. The poor fellow collapsed, falling on the floor with a loud thud.
Darcy, regardless of his still healing injury, threw himself over Brown, grabbing the ruffian by his neck as they both fell to the floor. With the impact, the pistol Brown was hiding in his jacket fell and skidded across the floor.
Elizabeth saw the shiny metallic part of the gun in the dimmed candlelight and ran to fetch it. When she looked up, Brown was sitting on Mr Darcy’s chest, punching his face.
“Stop or I will shoot you,” she yelled at Brown, firmly pointing the pistol in his direction.
Brown stopped, whipped his head up and stared at her. Then he sneered. “Ah! This is one thing I would love to see. A genteel lady like you,” he said through clenched teeth. With a subtle move, Brown stood up, cleaning the blood from his own injured mouth, leaving behind Mr Darcy with his face covered in blood.
Steadily, Brown fetched a small knife from his boot. “I am going to finish what I started a couple of days ago. Debt or not, I am going to kill you…” — he roared, twisting his knife in the air — “…slowly and painfully. ”
Elizabeth knew he was not bluffing. Holding her erratic breath, she did not take her eyes from the man, even for a second, not even to look at the man she loved lying on the floor, bleeding. In that moment, her mind was on her father’s words when he was teaching her to hunt. “ Keep your eyes on your prey, control your breathing and, at the right moment, shoot .”
Suddenly, Brown plunged towards her.
Mr Darcy, who was valiantly trying to sit up, watched with horror as the man charged towards Elizabeth, wielding his knife.
In the following second, a shot. Both of them fell to the floor with a deafening sound.
“No! Elizabeth!”
~ ? ~
In the darkness of the night, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Huxtable stealthily moved to the front of the house. A peek through the window showed that there were just the two men in the parlour. Richard nodded to Mr Huxtable. A strange sound, like the chirp of a bird, soon echoed around the house, and from its four sides the soldiers forced the doors open.
Their intention to move swiftly upstairs did not work as planned. As the two criminals exchanged shots with the intruders, it took them precious minutes until they were finally able to overpower the barricaded men and pass through them.
The sound of another gunshot, this time from upstairs, froze Richard and Mr Huxtable.
Richard was the first to enter the bedroom and gasped at the sight before him. The place resembled a battlefield. A chair was broken, and the bed was in complete disarray; near to the door, a bleeding old man was lying on the floor, immobile; further away, another wounded man was on his knees trying to stand up.
“Darcy!” Richard called, running to him.
The entire left side of Darcy’s face was covered in blood; he had a cut on his eyebrow and a bleeding nose, and by the red blur on his shirt, the old wound had reopened.
But instead of acknowledging the presence of his cousin, Darcy kept his moist eyes fixed ahead of him, mumbling and pointing at something in the shadows. Richard squinted and saw the body of another man on the floor.
“Help her, Richard. Elizabeth…”
Richard moved to where the man was, gasping in horror at the sight before him. “Miss Elizabeth!”
He pulled the man from her, but her body remained still, her clothes soaked in blood.
Darcy reached them, kneeling beside her. Taking her in his arms, his words were lost in a sob.
Richard ran to the door and shouted, “Dr Alden, please, this way. Quick.”
He turned and squeezed the door threshold until his knuckles were white. Had he been too late?
A breathless Dr Alden approached, asking Darcy to give him space while he examined Elizabeth’s body. As the seconds crawled by, Darcy and Richard could only observe the doctor’s efforts to find the cause of Elizabeth’s bleeding.
Raising his eyes to the two men beside him, the doctor said, “She is not harmed, gentlemen. She does not have a single scratch on her body. The only thing I could find was a good bump at the back of her head.”
“What?” the two cousins shouted at the same time.
Darcy lean down and caressed her face. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth, please, wake up.”
She moaned and her eyelids opened.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered gently, embracing and kissing her. “My Elizabeth, you are safe now, my love. You are safe.”
As he held her in his arms, Darcy felt her body shaking against his chest. He embraced her tighter, whispering words of comfort. For some time, both of them remained there on the floor, crying together .
Mr Huxtable commanded some of his men to carry Dr Hayford downstairs. Fortunately, the doctor was alive; a bleeding nose, some scratches, and probably one or two broken ribs were the extension of his injuries.
“I am taking Dr Hayford back to the village and those ruffians to the constable. And do not worry about that man,” Mr Huxtable said, pointing to the dead body on the floor beside Elizabeth. “I will prepare a report and inform the magistrate of the circumstances. I am sure there will be no enquires about his death. Colonel?”
Richard nodded, his eyes fixed on his cousin and the lady in his arms.
After their cries subsided, Darcy released Elizabeth from him. “How are you, dearest?”
“I am well, William. I am well.”
“How did you…” But Darcy could not find the words to compose his question. Everything had happened so fast.
“My father,” Elizabeth said with a weak smile. “He taught me how to use guns and swords. I never told a soul about it, but we still hunt and fence together when we have the chance; it is ‘our training’. It seems our little deception bore good fruits, after all.” She cried again. “Oh, William, I killed a man. Oh, God, forgive me...”
Darcy kissed her head. “Oh, my dear and brave Lizzy. We all consider a human soul to be sacred before God, but it was because of your courage that we are alive now. You, Dr Hayford and I. You saved us all.”
She took a deep breath and nodded, and raising her moist eyes she frowned, staring at his face, then at his shoulder. “Oh, William...”
“Yes, sir,” Dr Alden intervened. “Let me see to your injuries. Miss Elizabeth will be fine. Come.”
Darcy could barely stand, so Richard helped him.
“My dear,” Dr Alden said, turning to Elizabeth helping her up while Richard helped Darcy to sit on the bed. “Do you have any spare clothing? Yes? Good. Then take off those dirty clothes and refresh yourself while I see to Mr Darcy. Will you, my child?”
She looked at Darcy, who nodded to her. “Dr Alden is right. You should wash yourself and change your clothes. Then, as soon as you have finished, we will go home.”
Yes, home.
On her way, she looked down at the dead man on the floor and shivered, and her steps faulted, but the colonel was just beside her.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am well, Colonel. Just a little shaken. Thank you.”
“Take your time. We will be waiting for you,” Richard said as she closed the door.
As Dr Alden pulled at Darcy’s reinforced bandages, his expression became sombre. “Unfortunately, Mr Darcy, it is as I suspected. Your previous wound has reopened; it is bleeding considerably and in great need of new stitches.” He reached for a small bottle in his bag. “I will need to go a little deeper to find some intact flesh…” He put a small amount of liquid into a glass of water and offered it to Darcy. “I will need you to take this.”
“Can it not wait until we are back home, Dr Alden?” Darcy asked, quite discontented. “I do not want to… leave Elizabeth alone.”
“Unfortunately not,” Dr Alden said adamantly. “If this wound remains opened like this, your fragile recovery will be badly jeopardised.”
Darcy looked at Richard, who shrugged. “You need to do as the doctor says.”
“I understand,” Darcy said, upset. “Let me to talk to Elizabeth before you start then.”
At Dr Alden’s acceptance, Darcy went to knock on the door. “Elizabeth, are you dressed?”
“Not yet,” came her reply from the other side. “Do you need anything from here?”
“No. I just want to talk to you.”
The door opened, and Elizabeth peeked her head through the gap. She was wrapped in a towel, and her hair was loose, covering her shoulders and chest. Darcy looked at her and frowned. She was indeed an extraordinary, beautiful woman. He comforted himself with the thought that it would not be long now until they could marry; he could not stay away from her a second more.
“Dr Alden needs to stitch my wound again, and he wants me to take laudanum. I am afraid I will not be awake for some hours.”
Stretching her hand to take his, Elizabeth squeezed it affectionately. “I am sorry, William, that you will need to go through that all over again. But the doctor is right, of course. I will finish here and come to stay with you. I will be right beside you when you wake up. I promise. Now go and let the doctor look after you. I will be ready shortly.”
Darcy brought her damp hand to his lips and kissed it. “I will see you later, then.”
Despite the many injuries on his face, Darcy’s mouth was not hurt enough to prevent him from drinking the vile medicine; what he did in one gulp, grimacing.
As his eyes became heavy, Darcy laid on the bed and turned to Richard. “Please, look after her.” He looked back at the door of the dressing room and thought about going back home and finally being able to marry Elizabeth, hold and kiss her without any impediment. This time, his proposal would be quite different… He would profess his love… tell her how much… he… loved… her…
He was still holding this thought when everything became dark, and he fell into a deep sleep.
“Let us put those pillows here,” the doctor said as they repositioned Darcy on the bed. “If you could hold him, it would be easier. Yes, thank you. With this amount of laudanum, he can become agitated and hallucinate, and I do not want him moving.”
During the whole process, Richard could not take his eyes from his weak cousin, forcing himself to remember that both Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were finally safe.
He smiled. They would be happy together; he had known it from the beginning. They were perfect for each other.
His thoughts drifted back to London, where another beautiful lady was waiting for him, and wondered if she could be the one he would love, and be loved in return, accepting the simple life he could afford to offer .
Lord Matlock had told him he had inherited a small property his maternal grandmother had left to be shared among the younger grandsons in the family. Fortunately for him, he was the only younger son. Perhaps he would be able to sell his commission and assume the life of a modest gentleman with a beautiful wife at his side. Yes, that would be much better than continuing fighting and risking his life in those senseless wars. He smiled again. He had something to offer Miss Bennet after all.
But would that be enough for her?
“… a quick death.”
Richard startled at Dr Alden’s word. He had not noticed the man had started talking about the body on the floor.
“I can see it now,” the doctor continued. “The bullet has passed straight through his heart, causing him to die immediately. That explains the amount of blood on Miss Elizabeth’s dress, and the bump on her head. Literally, a dead weight falling on her.”
At the mention of her name, Richard thought that perhaps Elizabeth was taking a little too long to finish whatever she was doing.
As Dr Alden had finish his work with Darcy, Richard went to knock on the door.
There was no reply.
He knocked again, stronger. “Miss Elizabeth?”
No answer.
Dr Alden looked at him alarmed. “Perhaps she has fainted?”
Richard did not think twice and broke through the door.
The dressing room was empty.
~ ? ~
Elizabeth had just finished changing her clothes and was braiding her hair. She heard a click behind her head. As she turned, all blood drained from her face.
Wickham .
And he was holding a pistol.
“ Shhh . Do not make me use this,” he whispered. “After what you have done to Brown, I will not hesitate to hurt you if necessary.”
With widened eyes, Elizabeth looked at the door, but there was no way for her to escape.
“Come,” he ordered, pointing to the opened panel door behind him. The small corridor was illuminated by a single candle on the floor, which he took after pushing her ahead of him.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Wickham put the candle down. Pulling a dagger from his boot, he grabbed Elizabeth by the neck, placing the sharp edge under her chin, drawing a small trail of blood in her skin. Silently, they approached a soldier who had his back turned to them. With a precise blow, Wickham slammed the handle of his pistol on the man’s nape; after a sharp moan, the unconscious officer fell to the floor.
Once outside, he searched for the horses. He shoved his handkerchief on Elizabeth’s mouth, and dragged her with him while stealing one of them, for he had arrived on foot. He forced her up and mounted behind her, keeping his knife on her belly. They left unseeing, camouflaged by the foggy night.
She was spitting the piece of cloth from her mouth when she heard men shouting behind them. Turning, she saw a rider charging in pursuit. Wickham also noticed their chaser. Pressing the sharp blade against her stomach, he said in her ear, “Do not even think about it!”
Not much further ahead, when she hoped the rider would reach them, Wickham turned his horse in a drastic manoeuvre, taking a side path, covering Elizabeth’s mouth with one of his hands.
Alas. Horse and man passed by them without noticing the subterfuge. Wickham waited a little longer, then released her mouth. “Not a single sound,” he hissed.
Elizabeth had silent tears running down her face. “Why are you doing this to me? You could have escaped. Brown is dead, but you have decided to take me and now have the entire army is after you. Why?”
Wickham breathed deeply a couple of times, nudging his horse in the opposite direction. “Unfortunately, it is too late. I have already sold you, and now I need to deliver you, or I will have…” he trailed off, shivering, thinking of his nether parts. “ I know you will bring the lady intact, or you will never have any problem with ladies again…”
“What do you mean by selling and delivering me?” Elizabeth remembered the story on her father’s news sheet. “You cannot possibly be that evil?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I have no choice,” Wickham stated. “My neck is already in the noose. I need to take whatever chance I have. And you, Miss Elizabeth, are my guarantee out of the mess. But I will be careful with you. You surprised me. You shot a man, good heavens! Granted, that scoundrel did not deserve to live, but I am surprised, nevertheless. At least in that I am grateful to you. I will not need to pay Brown back now.”
If only I can survive those pirates now .
By the sudden tension of her body, Wickham knew she was disgusted with him, and he could not blame her for it. He had finally hit the bottom of the pitch.
After some time galloping, they reached an old equipage she remembered well. They dismounted, and still holding his knife, Wickham pushed Elizabeth inside.
“How was everything?” the man who would drive the carriage asked.
“It was as we had planned,” Wickham lied, entering the carriage behind Elizabeth. “Now let us move.”
Alone with Wickham, Elizabeth could not hold her tongue any longer. “So that was your plan? To have your partners arrested or killed? I am ashamed to think I ever considered you a friend; believed your lies. I confronted Mr Darcy, demanding him to answer my questions about his dealings with you as a gentleman, only to realise the crude reality that you are not just everything he said you were, but much more! A scoundr—.”
A violent slap in her face threw her head against the window cutting the words from her lips.
“Be silent!” Wickham shouted at the top of his lungs. “I do not need you to tell me what I have become. I hate all of you. All of you who had forced me into what I am today.”
Rubbing her cheek, Elizabeth brought her finger to her already sore lips and found fresh blood on them. It took all her strength to calm her irregular breathing as she fought back enraged tears. But she would not cry, not in front of him.
So, was that her fate? Being sold and transported to a distant country and forced for the rest of her life to…
She shivered. Dreadful thoughts were now impossible to contain. How would anyone know where to look for her?
She turned to the window, observing the dark and foggy scenery of the night. They passed by them at the same breakneck speed as her hopes vanished.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. There was no way out. She was lost forever.
No .
She could not accept it.
She would not surrender; at least, not without a good fight — even if it meant losing her life. In this case, death was preferable. Wickham could join the army of demons in hell if he wished, but she would try one last time.
She opened her eyes and slowly raised her gaze back to him, a plan forming in her mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Wickham was finally looking away.
Now .
She kicked the hand holding the knife and lunged at the carriage door, opening it.
Wickham growled, cursing aloud, his hat flying through the door into the darkness. Plunging after her before she could jump, he grabbed her arm and soon they were engaged in a fight for their lives. It took him all his strength to hold a wild Elizabeth as he shouted a couple of times for the driver to stop.
The jolt of the carriage threw both of them forward; Wickham landed on his shoulder and Elizabeth on her head. Dizziness weakened her and she could not resist her captor anymore.
“Bloody wild cat! Damn, you Elizabeth!” Wickham cursed again, wiping some blood from his upper lip. “Johnson! Get me the rope!” Wickham shouted to the driver. “I want to see you trying to escape now.”
~ ? ~
Richard could not believe his eyes. The bloody room was empty!
But how?
“Perhaps a servant’s entrance,” Dr Alden suggested.
Richard bumped his shoulder against the panelled walls until one of them opened to the servant’s corridor. He stopped, looking into the darkness, cursing under his breath.
Some muffled words could be heard from the bedroom.
“He is in there,” Richard heard the doctor saying.
“Colonel?” somebody called. A young officer entered the small room. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but we found Lieutenant Carter on the floor, unconscious. He was hit on the head. There is also a horse missing—”
“What? How is that possible?” Richard thundered, interrupting the young man. “Has anybody seen anything?”
“Yes, sir. One of the men heard Lieutenant Carter’s moans and ran to him, just in time to see a man and a woman, both on the same horse, riding down the road towards the village. He could not see the man’s face, but someone suggested it could have been Mr Darcy and the lady escaping. But if Mr Darcy is still here... Captain Owen rode after them anyway.”
“Wickham!” Richard breathed between gritted teeth. “Fetch a candle and go down these stairs and see if you can find anything. I need to see what is going on,” he said, running down the main stairs.
“Carter!” Richard called when he saw his man was already on his feet. “How are you?”
“I am well, Colonel,” Carter replied, rubbing his neck .
The younger officer appeared behind Richard, shaking his head. “There was nothing there, sir.”
“Colonel,” another officer shouted from outside. “There is a rider approaching.”
They all went outside, keeping their eyes on the road as the sound of a horse’s hooves became louder. Pointed pistols welcomed the approaching figure.
“Hey! Put your guns down. It’s me,” Captain Owen shouted, still panting. “I lost track of them in the fog. I am sorry, Colonel. Instead, I found him.”
The messenger, weary to his bones and still breathless, was already dismounting and looking for the colonel. “Thank God I found you, Colonel,” he sighed. “I have a message from your father, sir. Sorry for the delay — the fog. I could not find the house until I recognised the captain riding in this direction and followed him.”
Richard thanked the boy and read the message.
Dear Richard,
We found out that a ship loaded with contraband (and, unfortunately, some young ladies) is supposedly leaving England in two days’ time, on the 14th April, from Portsmouth. I hope this information is already irrelevant and the rescue attempt successful.
If by any chance you still need anything else, feel free to do whatever you need, at any cost. The Prime Minister has allowed me to do everything necessary to find Darcy, and to arrest those bloody mercenaries and pirates. We are already sending reinforcements to Portsmouth.
Please, send word as soon as possible.
Yours sincerely,
Fathe r
“At least I know where to hunt you,” Richard muttered. “James! Find Mr Huxtable and inform him that Wickham managed to enter the house and… kidnap Miss Elizabeth, again. Give Mr Huxtable this letter and ask him to send word to London, to my father and Detective Duncan, telling them I am going to Portsmouth straight away, and hope to meet the reinforcements there as soon as possible. And someone, prepare my horse,” he shouted to no one in particular.
Returning to the house, Richard quickly went upstairs. Dr Alden was helping some of the soldiers to tie up several blankets and bring his unconscious patient downstairs.
“Dr Alden, please, wait,” Richard said in a lower voice, kneeling down beside his cousin. “Forgive me, Darcy. But I swear on my life I will not come back home until I have Miss Elizabeth safe and sound with me.” He raised his eyes. “Take good care of him, Doctor.”
Richard gave his cousin one last look, and before Dr Alden could voice a reply, he ran downstairs again asking for his horse. He could not fail his cousin or Mr Bennet, but especially, he could not fail Miss Bennet.
“Colonel,” Captain Owen shouted as he quickly approached Richard. “You cannot possibly be planning to ride this time of night and with this fog, sir. I could barely see my way coming back. And by these winds, I believe a storm is coming.”
“Owen,” Richard said angrily, “if that scoundrel Wickham can ride his horse holding Miss Elizabeth atop of it with him, I can certainly do the same myself.” He turned and left, without looking back.
Captain Owen was not finished and ran after him. “Colonel, I ask permission then to accompany you on this trip. Sir.”
Richard paused and, finally, sighed, nodding. “Very well. Get ready then. It will be good to have a friend with me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Captain Owen said, already running towards his horse and preparing everything for their trip.
Richard called for Carter, giving him specific instructions to reach London as safely and as quickly as possible, preferably, leaving before the rain. His cousin’s health and safety should be his priority.
As they mounted their horses, Captain Owen looked at Richard. “Portsmouth then, Colonel?”
“Yes, Owen. And may God help us on this long journey.”
Some minutes later, the two riders were engulfed by the dark and foggy night as they headed to an uncertain fate.