The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (40 page)

Tears trickled from her eyes. It was bad enough to think of enduring such embarrassment, but the thought of Darcy’s humiliation was almost unbearable. He was so proud of the Darcy name, but here she would be disgracing it within a month of their wedding! What would he do? Would he send her away – have them live separately to escape the scandal? And her family! They had not yet recovered from Lydia’s wanton behavior and now they would be facing an even worse scandal. It would destroy her father.

An even more horrible thought struck her: What if Darcy believed that she
wanted
to run away with Wickham? She had no idea what lies Wickham had told Darcy about her. Had he sent Darcy a letter? It would be like him to rub salt in the wound. She had been assuming that Darcy would be frantically searching for her, but what if he believed that she wanted to elope with Wickham?
No
, she told herself.
He knows I hate Wickham
.
And he knows I love him. He is searching for me, but will he find me in time?
London was an enormous city, but she was sure Darcy would find her eventually – however, it might be too late.

Gazing at the cracked plaster over her head, she thought that she might thwart Wickham’s plan in other ways. Perhaps she could refuse to leave the house; the irony was not lost on her. But it would not be hard for Wickham to force her out the door. Perhaps she could fight Wickham in front of the witnesses, but the man had a glib tongue and could probably explain away it away as a lover’s quarrel to anyone watching.

Tears trailed across her cheeks, and Elizabeth attempted to stifle sobs. Humiliation and disgrace seemed guaranteed.

Chapter 15

Elizabeth had thought she could not sleep, but the events of the day had exhausted her and sleep crept upon her sometime after midnight. She was awakened by a scraping and scratching sound at her window. Had she been at home, such noises might have alarmed her, but in this place they gave her hope. Maybe someone had found her! She rushed to the window and saw a dark shape the size of a person, and, although she could barely distinguish the outline, she pushed the window open.

“Elizabeth! Thank God!” Darcy climbed through the window and embraced her fervently. In the circle of his arms she released all the tears she had been holding in since the abduction, relief washing through her as his crushing embrace seemed to express all the desperation of their last hours. Then he held her away a little to scrutinize her face. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, but he continued to examine her, inspecting every inch of her face and arms. Elizabeth took the opportunity to examine him, noting the dark circles under his eyes and how his normally neat hair hung in his face. “I was afraid that Wickham would try—” He made a choked sound as if the words were stuck in his throat.

“He tried to seduce me, but I, um…kicked him in – where—” She blushed, unable to finish the sentence. “Then he left me alone.”

Cradling her head at his chest, he barked a laugh. “Would that I had seen that! I should have had more faith in your fighting skills.” Relief colored his every word.

Elizabeth shrugged with a small smile. “He angered me. I do have a temper sometimes.” In answer, Darcy kissed her desperately and at great length. There was an edge of anguish in his lips, as though he could never bring her close enough to him – but she was his equal in desperation, wishing that he would never release her.

When they finally separated, Elizabeth was surprised to see Colonel Fitzwilliam standing by the window, watching them with a mixture of relief and humor. “Well, Darcy, I suppose this is the correct room?”

“Yes,” Darcy’s voice was hoarse. “Your instincts were sound. Thank you.” Elizabeth regarded him inquiringly. “When we were surveying the house, Richard considered the attic and said if he had a prisoner, that is where he would put one,” Darcy explained. “So, we sent up a rope with a grappling hook and decided to enter the house here.”

“What about the front door?” Elizabeth asked.

“We were concerned that if we entered there, Wickham might get to you and hurt you before we could stop him.” Darcy said, stroking her hair. “Your safety was most important.” Elizabeth felt unshed tears pricking her eyes.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth said simply – watching both Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But how did you find this house?”

“Once we knew Wickham had kidnapped you, it was simply a matter of finding his friends and prying information out of them with money or threats,” Darcy explained. “We discovered a Mr. Easton who related that Wickham had borrowed his townhouse for the night in lieu of repaying a debt. He told Easton he would be throwing an exclusive party.”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, another man climbed through the window. “Goodness! How many men did you bring?” Darcy shifted Elizabeth to a more comfortable spot by his side, but kept a protective arm around her shoulders.

“Ten in all,” answered Darcy, “between some Bow Street Runners and Richard’s army friends.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Elizabeth recognized the Colonel’s friend Lieutenant Preston and thanked him for his part in the rescue while Fitzwilliam set about picking the worn lock on the bedroom door.

“My, what useful skills one picks up in the King’s service,” Darcy observed wryly as he watched.

“I learned to pick locks because a certain cousin was forever locking me in unused rooms at Pemberley when we were children.” Fitzwilliam’s voice was acerbic.

“I am so happy I helped you acquire new skills,” Darcy said with a laugh.

The lock clicked and Fitzwilliam tested the knob by carefully turning it without opening the door. “How many men does Wickham have in the house?” He asked Elizabeth.

“There are only three, including Wickham. I do not know where they are in the house, but I believe one has been stationed by the front door to prevent me from attempting to escape again.”

“Again?” Darcy squeezed her shoulders with pride. “You
have
been busy.” Fitzwilliam gave him a quizzical look. “She also kicked Wickham in the groin,” Darcy said by way of explanation.

“Good for you!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed. But his eyes flickered to Darcy’s apprehensively. Elizabeth understood the question he feared to ask.

“He thought he could seduce me—”

“I will kill him!” Growled Darcy. Elizabeth put her hand on his arm to calm him down.

“No harm was done – at least not to
me
.”

Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I must remember never to tangle with you.” Pride and relief warred on Darcy’s face. Fitzwilliam opened the room’s door a crack. They were all silent for a minute as he listened; hearing nothing, he shut the door softly again. “Do the men have pistols?” He asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth nodded. “Wickham has two and each of the other men has one apiece.”

“It turns out your wife is an excellent advance scout,” Fitzwilliam said to Darcy with a smile. “I think we should attack now.” Darcy nodded curtly in agreement and Fitzwilliam waved his hand at Preston. “Give the signal. We will descend the stairs from here. The others can enter through the front door. No need to knock.” Preston leaned out the window and made some hand gestures. Darcy and Fitzwilliam both pulled pistols out of their coats.

Elizabeth caught her breath; she had only seen Darcy with a gun once before. Part of her wanted to beg him to remain with her so he would be safe, but she knew he must confront Wickham. It was a matter of honor. The relief she had experienced when he appeared at the window washed away in a new flood of anxiety.
I wish I could go with him and help, but I would be of no use.
She caught his arm. “William, please be careful.” He pulled her to him roughly with one arm and kissed her fiercely.

“I will,” he promised. Fitzwilliam opened the door just as Darcy released Elizabeth. He turned to Preston, “Will you stay here and guard Elizabeth? If one of those blackguards gets away—”

Preston nodded. “No one will get past me.” With one last glance at Elizabeth, Darcy was gone and Fitzwilliam was close on his heels. She felt bereft immediately. Pulling out his pistol, Preston positioned himself in the doorway.

Down below, Elizabeth heard shouts and bumps. A shot rang out and she started. She sank onto the rickety, narrow bed. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

As Darcy stepped onto the tiny third floor landing, he reminded himself it was best not to enter a fight in a white hot rage. He tried to temper his anger at Wickham with relief that Elizabeth was unharmed. Still, he had seen that haunted expression in her eyes and knew that, despite her attempt at good spirits, the experience had been terrifying. She had been roughly handled, he had no doubt. Her clothing was wrinkled and torn in places -- and her hair was half undone. A lesser woman would have been hysterical in his arms.

Thinking of the hands that were responsible for her disheveled state renewed Darcy’s rage. He charged down the stairs, his pistol held at the ready and Fitzwilliam at his heals. Once on the second floor, he opened the door to the first bedroom he came to. It was empty. Fitzwilliam did the same with the next door. The noises from below told Darcy that the rest of their men had begun their assault on the first floor.

Then the two men came to a door that was locked. It took Fitzwilliam mere seconds to pick the lock and Darcy kicked the door open. Inside the room was small and dark, but they could see Wickham at the open window in his nightshirt – framed by the gray moonlit sky.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam pushed through the doorway and into the room. Whirling at the sound of the door opening, Wickham raised his pistol and shot at Darcy. Darcy’s own shot was one second behind. Wickham’s bullet flew past Darcy’s head and buried itself in the doorframe. Darcy’s bullet lodged itself in Wickham’s shoulder – the impact knocked Wickham up against the window frame.

Before Darcy had time to react, Wickham pulled out his other pistol, although his hands were shaking with the effort. Darcy tried to shoot, but his gun only fizzed and popped. A misfire! He dove to the floor as he heard Wickham’s pistol go off. The shot went wild and buried in the wall. “Damn you, Darcy!” Wickham shouted as he staggered upright and threw one leg over the sill of the open window.

He must not escape!
Darcy thought, but Wickham, dividing his attention between the window and Darcy, had lost track of Fitzwilliam. Prowling around the edge of the room, the Colonel pounced, knocking Wickham’s gun to the floor. Darcy crossed the room in two strides and grabbed hold of the front of Wickham’s shirt, dragging him back into the room. Once Wickham was leaning back on the window frame, Fitzwilliam slammed the window closed – only then did Darcy indulge himself by landing a resounding punch on Wickham’s jaw. He folded to the floor.

Darcy took an extra pistol that Colonel Fitzwilliam offered and pointed down at Wickham’s head. His whole body was shaking with rage. “I would love to have a reason to shoot you.”

“I yield! Damn, Darcy, don’t kill me!” Wickham looked exhausted and greatly aggrieved. As he clutched his wounded shoulder, bright red blood oozed out between his fingers, but his terrified eyes were fixed on Darcy.

Darcy hauled Wickham up by the neck of his shirt, his face only inches from Wickham’s. “If you ever touch my wife again – If you ever talk to her again – If you ever glance in her direction again – I
will
kill you!”

Wickham’s eyes went wide. “Your wife? I didn’t—“

Darcy’s fist connected resoundingly with Wickham’s stomach. Wickham fell back, hitting his head on the sill, and slumping to the floor, unconscious. Darcy stood over the man, breathing hard. Fitzwilliam grabbed his arm to keep him from hitting Wickham again, but Darcy felt his fury dissipate as he realized the threat from Wickham had ended.

Fitzwilliam stepped out of the room to descend the stairs and talk with their men downstairs. When he returned to the room, Darcy was tying Wickham’s hands together using the man’s own discarded cravat. “Our men have secured the downstairs. They captured Wickham’s men – one was knocked out and the other is tied up. None of our people were hurt. They are preparing to deliver those two to the jail. Do you want them to take Wickham too?”

Darcy gazed at their captive in disgust. “Not yet. I suppose we should get a doctor for his shoulder. Send a man for one and have someone come up and guard Wickham. Have them notify me when Wickham is awake. I have some questions for him; there is more to this story than it first appears.”

Fitzwilliam nodded slowly. “I am afraid you are right.”

After a man arrived to take charge of Wickham, Darcy bounded up the stairs to the attic bedroom. Preston was standing in front of the door, but gave way quickly to Darcy, who encouraged the soldier to go downstairs and help with the mopping up. Before he opened the door, Elizabeth rushed out. “I was so worried Wickham would kill you!” She flung her arms around his neck.

“I am all right, my love,” he assured her. With a strength he had not known she possessed, Elizabeth pulled him into the attic room, pressing him up against the cracked plaster of the wall and kissing him with an eagerness that rendered him breathless. “I should rescue you more often,” he said after she finally released his lips.