Chapter 13 #2
“Yes, what was I thinking? My brain must be addled from all the excitement.”
“Then I suggest we crawl into bed and fall asleep as fast as humanly possible.”
Lizzy waited until Jane had fallen asleep to quit their bed and sit by the window. She tried to reach Fitzwilliam with her mind, with no success. She still could only traverse small distances. The familiar creak of the family stairs to the lower level interrupted her concentration.
Opening the door just a crack, she caught sight of Lydia, creeping down the stairs, fully clothed, a small valise in her hand.
Not wanting her sister to cry out and wake everyone, she slipped into the hall and crept down behind her sister.
Who was Lydia meeting? And for what purpose?
Unease settled about her shoulders like an itchy shawl.
This had all the earmarks of an elopement.
Only one question remained. Who was the prospective groom?
Lydia made her way to the westward facing drawing room, the one which led out to Mama’s rose garden and slipped through the terrace doors.
She cursed the fact she was barefoot and briefly hesitated before running to the front vestibule where Hill kept a pair of old shoes to slip on if someone came to the door in the middle of the night.
She shoved her feet in them and, although they flopped on and off her heels, hurried through the doors and began to scout around for Lydia.
A soft giggle at the far end of the garden had her speeding in that direction as fast as the loose shoes would allow.
There was a little used gate which led to the road on that side of the garden and was obviously where Lydia was meeting her beaux.
She careened around the corner and had gone two steps when blinding pain reverberated through her head and she fell, unconscious, to the ground.
~~oo0oo~~
“Well, gentleman, I believe I should return to Longbourn and get some sleep, otherwise Lizzy will have to lead me down the aisle because I won’t be able to keep my eyes open.”
“Mr. Bennet,” Richard called out as he went to exit the billiard room. “Did you do that thing we spoke of around Longbourn?”
Bennet cast a quick glance at Bingley, but he was busy racking the balls for their next game.
“I only had time to ward the garden around the house. Tomorrow, after the wedding I’ll expand the boundaries. There just hasn’t been enough time.” He cast a playful nod in Darcy’s direction. “Some young man insists on marrying my daughter tomorrow instead of next year.”
About to laugh along with Bennet and Richard, they were interrupted by a footman bringing a note - addressed to Darcy. He recognized the handwriting immediately. Wickham. He broke the seal and almost keeled over when he read the words,
I have your betrothed. Come alone to the standing stone outside of St. Alban’s. If you do not, I will kill her.
Bennet transported immediately to Longbourn to assure no one else had been injured while Richard transported to St. Alban’s and through communication with Darcy, told him as far as he could tell Wickham was alone and Elizabeth was with him.
Even though he couldn’t see his cousin’s face, Darcy knew Richard was not telling him everything.
His heart lurched in his chest at the thought of Wickham bringing harm to Elizabeth.
Darcy shimmered to the clearing described at the bottom of his note.
A horse and carriage waited at the edge of the forest and beyond that, in the middle of the standing stones stood Wickham.
Beside him, strung up between two solid poles, her arms and legs tethered to the top and bottom respectively was Elizabeth.
Clad only in her thin nightdress, which had rolled up her thighs to accommodate the spreading of her legs, she looked like a human letter X.
Her head lolled to one side and even in the shadowed moon light he saw a wound on her forehead and a trail of dried blood which had trickled down her cheek.
She seemed unconscious and unaware. Thank God for small mercies.
He summoned energy and was about to blast Wickham back to the hell from which he’d sprung when Wickham brought out a knife and held it to her throat. Only the fear that he would cut her as he fell stayed Darcy’s spell.
“That’s right, Darcy. You wouldn’t want me to hurt your pathetic human woman now.”
“What do you want, Wickham?”
“For starters, I want you to step within the standing stones.”
He hesitated and began to assess the circle of ancient stones. His senses picked up strong wards. Dampening wards. Wickham meant to meet him with his powers stripped bare. For now, Wickham held all the power, and the woman he loved.
“Let her go, Wickham. She is an innocent and should not be punished for something of which she has no control.”
“I think not. She’s a tempting bit, although her pert opinions feed my anger. But, it’s not her opinions that I’d be enjoying once you’re dead and gone, it would be these.”
Wickham used the blade of his knife to cut open her nightgown.
Nothing lay between her and indecency as all of her bosom was exposed.
He reached up and fondled her breast, a malicious grin directed at an impotent Darcy.
Wickham would die a slow and painful death, but for the moment he was helpless.
He had no choice but to enter the circle of the standing stones and figure things out on the fly.
“I will do as you wish, but only if you let her go.”
Wickham stepped behind Elizabeth and Darcy heard the renting of fabric and her nightgown flapped about her legs. He then made a show of opening the fall of his trousers.
“Shall I despoil and bugger your betrothed in front of your eyes, Darcy? Because, you know I will. In fact, I may enjoy it as much as when I took your little sister in the same fashion, over and over.”
That bastard! I shall tear him apart with my bare hands.
No wonder Georgiana couldn’t forgive herself.
No, Richard. Stay and enter only if needed. If something happens, make sure he does not get out alive, and look after... look after both of them.
With my life.
Darcy struggled to contain his anger and stepped into the ring.
He knew Wickham wanted him blind with fury as well as stripped of his powers.
Immediately, he felt a profound sense of loss without his magic, as though a void had been created in the center of his being and he had no form or function.
Fortunately, he’d spent much time at Gentleman Jacks and if he had to fight Wickham man to man, he had a good chance of beating the bastard to death with his bare hands.
“Ah, good. Glad you made the right decision.” Wickham redid the top button of his pants after running a hand over her bare behind. “Grigston,” he called out and placed the knife on Elizabeth’s neck. “Come and introduce yourself to my dear friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”
From out of the woods lumbered a giant of a man.
Even from a distance, Darcy could see that he stood at least six inches over his own considerable height.
His arms appeared as though they were tree trunks and his squat face had the look of a man who’d fought and won many a fist fight.
For the first time a trickle of dread wormed its way into his mind.
He’d fight to the death for Elizabeth. He had no choice.
As he began flexing his arms and hands in preparation for the fight, a second mountain walked out behind Grigston, not as large but nothing to dismiss, either.
“And of course, we couldn’t forget Grigston’s twin brother,” Wickham crowed in unholy delight.
“You have no sense of honor, Wickham.”
“And you only realized that just now, old friend?”
Wickham’s eyes gleamed as the brothers entered the circle and spread out so they could come at him from opposite sides.
With a curt nod from Wickham, the two men lumbered toward Darcy.
He gathered his courage and began to make his battle plan.
Before they had gone more than two paces each, he flew toward the smaller twin on his left and, leaping high into the air, came down upon his head and shoulders with the hardest hit he could manage, aiming for the vulnerable temple and eye area.
Not expecting an offense, the giant raised his arm too late and Darcy pierced the skin with his tightly held fingers and before the giant could think or react, he reached for the jugular and taking hold of muscle, tendon and skin, ripped his throat out of his body.
Gasping and gurgling, the man fell to his knees, trying to stem the flow of blood with his massive hands, but it was too late.
He collapsed and fell prone to the ground.
Darcy whirled around to face the brother’s twin.
Grigston roared and charged at him. Darcy sidestepped and stuck out his boot to take him off balance.
He needed to leverage the man’s weight and height against him. It was his only chance of survival.
He moved to the outer edge of the circle and both of them paused when Wickham called out, “Oh, Darcy. Elizabeth needs you.”
Wickham trailed the tip of his knife down the inside of her arm, piercing the skin.
A thin line appeared and blood began flowing down her arm into the material of her nightgown.
Rage burned in his gut and he turned to run at Wickham, but Grigston managed to grapple him from behind and squeezed.
His ribs cracked and his lungs couldn’t catch breath.
Inky blackness crept around the edges of his vision and all he could do was look to Elizabeth.
When he felt as though all breath had left his body and he was no more for this earth, he whispered, “Elizabeth.”
She raised her head and looked at him.
~~oo0oo~~
Burning pain sliced through the torture filled dark.
She felt as though she was being torn asunder.
Her arms and legs screamed from being pulled in opposite directions and all her weight rested on taut thighs and stretched out shoulders.
Head bowed, she saw the tip of a foot-long blade, blooding dripping off the end.
She followed the length of blade to a man’s hand and further, dully noting it was none other than Wickham. He’d bound and cut her. Why?
It was then she heard him.
Elizabeth
Weak. Pain. Dying.
Head pounding, shoulders protesting at even the slightest of movement, she managed to raise her eyes enough to look forward and, with mounting horror, witnessed an enormous man with his arms wrapped around Fitzwilliam.
He was killing him and Wickham watched, laughing maniacally.
Blinding hot rage engulfed her whole soul.
Nothing and nobody would take Fitzwilliam from her.
Not after what they’d shared. Wickham must be removed from this earth.
She lifted her head to the sky and cried out one word.
“NO!”