Windswept: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

Chapter 25

Elizabeth hurried upstairs to her room, pulling the pins from her hair. She yearned for a bath but knew there was no hot water available. Apparently, the other girls figured out the same because there was an abundance of demands with no one ready to supply their needs.

Pulling on her oldest gown, Elizabeth met Jane already examining the kitchen shelves and pots. Neither had any skills that would help them put food on the table, something Elizabeth vowed to change at her earliest opportunity. For a certainty, the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation that she would have no cause to repine. Nevertheless, situations could arise where they might not be able to depend on others. She would want to help Fitzwilliam in a disaster, not be a hindrance.

Jane gathered a few small pieces of coal from the box kept inside the kitchen door. Dumping them in a pile in the stone fireplace where irons held large empty pots, her sister mused, “We have watched the maids light the fires many times. How hard could this be?”

“We have watched them carry hot coals in and out of our rooms, but I have not seen them actually light them,” Elizabeth admitted.

Elizabeth took one of the empty buckets to the back door, which, unlike Netherfield Park’s kitchen, remained attached. Stepping between and around the debris, she hurried to the well from where the household water was drawn only to discover a tree had fallen over the top of it, damaging the stone casing and closing off most of the opening. There would be no water from that source.

Night was falling, which dramatically decreased the options available to her. She could go to the river for water. Rejecting that idea immediately since she had no way of lighting her way, she considered traveling the well-worn path to Lucas Lodge. Even that was not a good idea since she had no way of knowing if their well was undamaged. Familiar landmarks were likely gone. She did not want to be caught in the darkness.

Returning to the kitchen, she found Jane staring at the small pile of coal, her hands at her hips. Through gritted teeth, her sister said, “I have tried everything, Lizzy, but I cannot get them lit. Do you think Papa knows how?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I cannot know. I was unable to find any water to boil.”

Jane brushed the loose hair from her brow. “If only Colonel Fitzwilliam were here. He would know what to do.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth teased. “I noticed how deeply you were both involved in conversation, sister dear. He is an admirable man, almost as much as my Fitzwilliam.”

“Fitzwilliam? You call Mr. Darcy by his first name?” Jane exclaimed. “Obviously, your conversations were far more deeply involved than those between the colonel and myself, for he has asked only to call upon me. I do not even know Colonel Fitzwilliam’s first name.”

“Richard.”

“Richard?” Jane sighed. “Such a strong name.”

Elizabeth clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, Jane. Fitzwilliam asked me to marry him, and I readily agreed. He is truly wonderful. While it is true that I did not always love him as much as I do now, in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable.” She spoke sternly for both their benefit. “This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

“I am happy for you, Lizzy. Would that we all could find a worthy man with insight and a willingness to act on behalf of others, someone with no improper pride who is perfectly amiable.”

“Well, in truth,” Elizabeth snickered, “I would not describe my intended as amiable to everyone other than myself. To me, he is truly the best of men.”

“I am glad. But how did this happen? At the beginning of the ball, you wanted nothing to do with him. Not many hours later, and you are engaged to marry.”

Elizabeth sat in one of the kitchen chairs and then faced her sister. “Jane, the change in my attitude was gradual, starting with his kindness to Mrs. Hammond. There afterward, each time we were in company, I witnessed further acts of compassion toward others. When he turned those marvelous qualities toward Lydia, whom I knew offended every one of his sensibilities, I saw him differently than the man I thought him to be. I suspect that his arrogance serves as protection against greedy individuals who seek to gain an advantage from him. He did not know us. Additionally, our family did not make a good impression on him at the assembly. If you recall, Mama crowed when Mr. Bingley singled you out for his first dance. Then, she loudly gossiped about Mr. Darcy’s supposed wealth. Kitty and Lydia boldly flirted with anyone while Mary self-righteously sat in the corner reading a book while condemning everyone for dancing, which was the purpose of the gathering. Papa did not deign to come, showing his disinterest in promoting and protecting his family. It is no wonder that Fitzwilliam wanted to create a wide gulf between us.”

“A gulf that has now closed.” Jane observed, “I am reconciled to your match with Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. I have always thought him to be a good man. Now, my dearest hope is that one day we will not only be sisters but cousins, too.” She blushed a deep red.

“That would truly be a delight.”

“Yes, it would. With that said, I will not allow myself to hope too much. The colonel spoke at length about the estate his mother holds in trust for him until he marries. He is eager to sell his commission and start a life without the necessity of following orders from foolish men. Yet, not once did he include me in his plans. I only share his dreams, that of having my own residence where I can set up housekeeping for a man I respect.”

“Jane, one week ago, I would have given the odds of Mr. Darcy and myself falling in love as a million to one. While the possibility seemed far-fetched, the reality is that it happened. Now, I am eager to become his wife, to begin our life anew.”

“I am truly happy for you, Lizzy. Perhaps I might have something similar happen…someday.”

“Someday soon, Jane.” Elizabeth stood to peek inside the canisters in the corner cupboard. “If I remember correctly, Cook used to hide biscuits from Kitty and Lydia right”—she popped open the lid—“here.” Cinnamon and cloves drifted from the can to tease her sense of smell. “There are fourteen, two for each of us. Perhaps we should do a more thorough search.”

Jane jumped into action, opening each cupboard and peeking inside each bowl. She was at the back of the pantry when she joyously showed Elizabeth her find—a bottle of cider squeezed during the final harvest. Elizabeth cared not if it had already turned.

Jane offered her the first sip. The apples that year were particularly sweet. Dividing the biscuits and the juice, they placed them on a tray to deliver to their family. It was not a feast, but it would serve them well enough.

Darcy’s horseshied at the first shadow as a gentle breeze moved the tree branches until they clicked and clacked together. Before returning to Netherfield for a torch and some help, he met with Colonel Forster.

“I am saddened to report that not one man has seen Mr. Wickham since he rushed out the door when the storm was announced. He traveled to the ball in my carriage with Mrs. Forster and two other officers so a horse would not have been available for him. He would have been on foot. As you know, the weather was particularly foul. The other officers, Chamberlayne, Carter, and Denny, turned back to Netherfield Park, not leaving again until the wind slowed.”

“Where have you searched? Did you and your troops make it all the way back to Netherfield Park?”

A red hue rose on the colonel’s neck. “Please understand that the regiment was in a sorry state from losing their possessions in the windstorm and sheltering at the inn. Few were fit to perform even the most meager service.”

Darcy ran his hands through his hair, furious with the man’s ineptitude. Richard was correct. Forster was not fit to manage his cheating wife or a regiment.

Hurrying to his horse, Darcy raced toward Netherfield Park. He needed his greatcoat, a canteen full of water, something to light his way, and Richard.

Unexpectedly, he encountered many obstacles. Hurst and Bingley could barely navigate the staircase from the cellar to the kitchen. They both reeked of wine and brandy. The footmen spent the hours after the wind stopped trying to restore as much order as possible to the dower house and the main house. Cook had every maidservant hauling water in and out of the kitchen as she slapped bread dough on the table. Richard was helping to get the stable in order.

“Wickham?” Richard was flummoxed. “Why would you endanger yourself and others to look for that miscreant? He certainly would not do the same for you. Instead, he would celebrate the fact that you were gone by dancing on your grave. No, I will not go search for him, and I strongly suggest that you do not either.”

Darcy turned away. He had no time or desire to revisit the same tired argument with his cousin. Richard simply did not understand.

Darcy swore to the heavens. Richard would not understand. He had not read Gerald Darcy’s journals.

Rubbing his fingers over his eyes, Darcy said, “I will go.”

Before Richard could stop him, he draped the strap of the canteen over the saddle, grabbed a lantern with his other hand, and headed across the field toward Meryton.

Fortunately for him, the moon was waning gibbous. If the clouds would clear, then he would have his way lit by the night sky. Unfortunately, the lunar orb did not cooperate with his purpose. Nor did the clouds.

Every few steps, he stopped and shined the lantern on each side of his horse. The grass no longer stood at attention. Instead, it lay flat on the ground like the hair of his sister’s cat when she petted it.

“Wickham!” he yelled into the unstable air swirling around him. “George!” Pulling the collar of his greatcoat high around his throat, he continued on his course, concentrating so hard that he failed to note how hard the wind was blowing until his hat flew off to land somewhere behind him.

Blast!Looking back, he could no longer see the lanterns Richard lit in the stables. Was it because he was too far away from the buildings, or had Richard extinguished them due to the wind?

Darcy had no choice but to press on.

“Wickham! George!”

Over and over, he yelled as the air pressure pushed at him from behind. Beneath him, the skittish movements of his mount indicated that he was not the only one concerned about the worsening conditions.

Only two miles between Netherfield Park and Meryton.Surely, Wickham would not have wandered too far from the road. Darcy reflected on the fierceness of the conditions when George left the ball. Rain poured in sheets, and the wind howled until those blessed few minutes of relief when many of Bingley’s guests left for their own beds. By the time Richard warned them to turn back, the storm whipped around them violently, and the rain tormented the horses.

How far could Wickham have made it down the road? Surely, Richard would have seen him as he came through Meryton to the ball, wouldn’t he? Yet, he had not. That meant that Wickham left the road before Darcy’s coach and the others turned around.

For hours, he searched the fields, his horse going back and forth from one knoll to another. Nothing, not one sign of Wickham.

Darcy turned his horse away from the line of trees into the fields. Cautiously moving his lantern, he searched and yelled until his throat ached. Nothing.

At the first flash of lightning, Darcy counted to three before thunder rolled. He glanced around at the little he could see. There was nowhere to shelter, only one grassy knoll and harvested field after another.

Squeezing his thighs, he kicked his horse into action. For as much as he needed to continue his search, finding shelter was now a greater necessity.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky showing Darcy that he had gone farther from the road than he thought. Before the thunder cut through the noise of the wind, Darcy recognized the stile and Elizabeth’s favorite oak tree. If he followed the boundary, he would reach a large chalk cave where he and his horse could hide out until the wind dropped or daylight rose.

Like the main roadway, the property was lined with trees. Giving extra pressure with the reins on the horse’s neck, his intention was to move away from danger. Then, he saw him lying on his back, that silly apple green ribbon still tied to his coat.

Wickham!God, no!

“George!” he yelled over the sound of one lightning strike after another. Reaching him, Darcy stripped off his glove, feeling his brother’s face and neck. He was as cold as the night air. Using the lantern to search the length of him, Darcy pulled the heavy limb from the towering tree off the body of his nemesis. “Hang on, Brother. I will take care of you now. Just hang on.”

There was no response.

Rain pelted them both. When Darcy removed his greatcoat to drape over Wickham, he saw what he missed earlier. A sharp branch pierced Wickham’s coat and linen shirt, impaling George’s abdomen. Darcy dropped to his knees, putting his ear over George’s mouth, desperately hoping for at least a whisper of breath. Nothing.

“No!” He stood and yelled at the brutality of Wickham’s end. Lifting his fists to the sky, Darcy raged against the streams of light bolting across the sky.

An answering bolt of lightning exploded an old oak, the repercussion sending currents from the top of Darcy’s head to his toes. With the furor resounding in his head and the light temporarily blinding him, he knew his only course for survival was to find shelter.

Quickly untying the ribbon from Wickham’s buttonhole, he knotted it carefully around the post holding up the stile. Grabbing Wickham under the arms, Darcy slowly made his way to the nearest chalk cave.