Chapter 25 #2
“You were the one who took Guy, and the east wing—the accidents . . .” Lizzie realized she was making little sense, but it
was all falling into place. Agnes had passed herself off as from the area, but she wasn’t from Meryton. She had presented
herself as friendly to Lizzie, gotten Guy to trust her, and had said that she didn’t believe in the curse . . . “But you tried
to kill me!”
Lady Catherine tutted. “Agnes, I told you I wanted her unharmed.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill her specifically,” Agnes said. “I tried to do as you said—make it so unsafe that she’d have no choice but go to Pemberley.”
“I could have been killed by that chandelier! You nearly killed Caroline Bingley!”
“Oh, I just wanted a closer look—after Sally insisted that no one polish it but her, I got curious.”
“You’re the one who stole the diamonds,” Lizzie said.
Agnes gave a small bow and Lady Catherine said, “And they will fund our case for a good number of years. Now, enough talk.
It’s time to go. Agnes, you stay here and ensure the Darcys behave—no running off and warning anyone to be on the lookout.
If you don’t hear from me in five days’ time, kill them and join us.”
“No!” Lizzie cried. “You can’t—”
Lady Catherine smacked Lizzie across the face with the pistol, the cold metal splitting the skin of her cheekbone. Lizzie felt burning pain and the trickle of blood on her cheek as she saw stars. Behind her, Georgiana let out a small yelp.
“You don’t get to negotiate,” Lady Catherine hissed. “I gave you many chances to join me without getting hurt, but you squandered
them all. Now is the time for you to do as I say, or Agnes will kill everyone you love.”
“I’m very good at poisons,” Agnes said, blinking at her in an innocent fashion. “And at slipping into a house undetected at
night. Honoria Bingley never even knew I was there.”
Horror settled over Lizzie as she raised her hand to her face, wincing at the pain. “You killed Honoria Bingley?”
“Of course I had her killed,” Lady Catherine said with a sigh. “I couldn’t risk showing my face in London—I needed to find
a way to drive you out of the city. I learned about Honoria and her fortune while I was working with Hurst.”
George Hurst, Lady Catherine’s first victim . . . that Lizzie knew of. Technically, Collins had killed Hurst, but it had been
at Lady Catherine’s behest.
“I had hoped that you’d find your way to Pemberley naturally in the last year, given how close you are with that one, but
I suppose his father doesn’t approve of you. He ought to thank me for this favor I’m doing him.”
And with that, she yanked Lizzie’s arm, dragging her toward the door. Lizzie’s instinct was to go limp and drag her feet, but Lady Catherine simply let go of her, allowing Lizzie to tumble to the ground. She looked up at the sound of the pistol being cocked.
But it wasn’t pointed at her.
“Get up,” Lady Catherine ordered. “Or I’ll shoot him.”
Lizzie scrambled to her feet, risking one last look at Darcy and Georgiana, even though it broke her heart to do so. Georgiana’s
face was tearstained as she knelt next to her brother. And Darcy . . . oh, Darcy. His hair was frightfully disheveled, and
he wore last night’s clothes. He had been captive since last night and she hadn’t even known! Worse than seeing him injured
and helpless was the wild look in his eyes as their gazes met. His eyes pleaded with her, and it gutted Lizzie, but she couldn’t
look away. She had the desperate fear that she might never look upon Darcy ever again.
“I love you,” she said.
Lady Catherine jerked her away. “Enough carrying on. Come along.”
Lady Catherine dragged her out of the grotto, the barrel of the pistol digging into her side. Lizzie’s mind spun—she needed
to be smart now. If Agnes was staying behind, then she couldn’t give her any reason to harm anyone she loved. But if she allowed
Lady Catherine to whisk her away from Pemberley, then escape would become exponentially more difficult. She felt her breath
coming in quick, short gasps. She was panicking, and the edges of her vision were going gray.
Breathe, she told herself. Think.
Lady Catherine’s weaknesses—what were they?
Right now, as she marched Lizzie deeper into the woods behind the grotto, it didn’t feel as though she had any.
Lady Catherine had played a long game of cat and mouse, getting herself into position before Lizzie had even suspected danger.
She’d been here the entire time, and all the while Lizzie had been back in London, afraid she was lurking behind every corner . . .
“How did you send the letters?” Lizzie asked. “If you were all the way up here?”
Lady Catherine let out an unladylike snort. “I wrote many letters. And then I simply had my associates choose which ones to
deliver based on your reactions.”
“Even the one at Netherfield?”
“That one was a gamble, but I thought you all might run to the countryside at some point. I told Agnes to be careful. She’s
rather overconfident, that one—but she does what she’s told much better than you.”
This, Lizzie realized, was Lady Catherine’s weakness. She liked to talk. She liked to appear clever, and even more, she wanted
everyone else to admire how clever she was. As long as Lizzie could encourage her to talk, then she might reveal something
Lizzie could use in her escape. Something to use against her.
“This case you want me to work on,” Lizzie said as Lady Catherine nudged her along. “Your husband? I thought he was dead.”
“Good,” she said. “That is what I want the world to think. It’s far easier to style oneself as a widow than a separated woman.
Society pities a widow. Doesn’t expect much from her.”
“Why don’t you just have Agnes kill him? If she’s so good at what she does.”
“Because I’m not his heir,” Lady Catherine said, bitterness heavy on her tongue. “If he dies, the entirety of his estate—including
my estate—goes to someone else.”
“Who?”
“The brat he had with the woman he married after he tossed me aside,” Lady Catherine said as they emerged into a small clearing
with one horse saddled and stomping its hooves impatiently. “Now, enough of—”
Thud!
Lady Catherine crashed into her with such force that Lizzie was knocked to the ground, the other woman falling on top of her.
Instantly, the wind was knocked from Lizzie’s lungs, and she writhed on the forest floor, struggling against the weight of
the older woman on top of her, trying to breathe.
Finally, her gasp for breath drew in blessed air, and Lizzie coughed and panted until Lady Catherine’s weight rolled off her,
and she scrambled to her knees. Someone touched her shoulder and Lizzie whirled around, shoving at the hands that touched
her.
“Easy!” came another voice, female.
Lizzie looked up and squinted.
Sally Burton stood before her, holding a hefty branch in one hand.
“Sally,” Lizzie whispered. She heard the rustling of the underbrush and whirled around, only to find Clara and Charlotte hiding behind a bush. Guy came darting out, growling at the prone form of Lady Catherine. “Clara. Charlotte?”
“Is this Lady Catherine?” Charlotte asked, appalled.
“Yes,” she said dully. Then the panic came back. “Darcy and Georgiana aren’t safe! Agnes is in there with them. She’ll kill
them if she sees what we’ve done to Lady Catherine!”
“Agnes?” Sally asked. “Our Agnes, from Netherfield?”
“Yes! She was responsible for—well, everything! She stole the diamonds.”
Sally’s gaze darkened. “I never did like her.”
“She was working with Lady Catherine this entire time?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes! I can’t explain it all, but we need to get her away. But there’s only one entrance, and if we all run in, she might
hurt them.”
Sally nodded. “So we lure her out. You wait here. But be prepared to move.”
Before Lizzie could ask Sally what she intended to do, Sally slinked away, whistling a jaunty tune. Charlotte looked down
at Lady Catherine. “Is she dead?”
“I hope not, because I would like to kill her myself,” Lizzie said. She reached down and unclipped Guy’s leash. “Help me.”
With Charlotte’s help, the two of them managed to awkwardly bind Lady Catherine’s hands behind her back with the leash. Lizzie
picked up the pistol. “Do you know how to use this?”
Charlotte nodded and held out her hand. “You go. I won’t let her out of my sight.”
Lizzie squeezed her best friend’s shoulder once, then crept back through the woods toward the grotto.
She wanted to run but was afraid doing so would draw too much attention.
When she drew close, she sidled up to the back of the grotto and peered inside the glassless window.
Georgiana and Darcy were still where they’d left them, but Agnes was looking toward the door, head cocked.
Lizzie could hear Sally whistling, and Agnes was clearly suspicious.
Agnes grabbed at Georgiana, who whimpered, and pulled her away from Darcy.
Lizzie saw light glint off a blade that Agnes held under Georgiana’s chin.
“Who’s there?” Agnes shouted, making her voice sound high and scared—but Lizzie knew well enough by now that it was an act.
“It’s Sally Burton, Agnes. I believe you stole something from me.”
Lizzie saw Agnes go stiff and then propel Georgiana out the door and up the steps in front of her, knife still held to the
younger girl’s throat. “Sally Burton. You’re a long way from home.”
“I’d say the same about you, except that I’m beginning to suspect everything you told us was a lie,” Lizzie heard Sally say.
“Not everything,” Agnes said. “But most, I admit. I can’t help it if Meryton is full of a bunch of blathering fools.”
Agnes was fully outside the grotto now, and Lizzie couldn’t see her or Sally or Clara, but she could hear them well enough.
Darcy was left alone, still tied up. This was her chance. Carefully, she began to climb through the window.