Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
L ater that day, as Elizabeth and Darcy strolled arm in arm along the riverbank, the serene atmosphere sharply contrasted with the tension that had recently enveloped them. Elizabeth paused occasionally to admire the gentle ripples of the water, her expression softening with each moment, while Darcy remained watchful, his protective instincts heightened.
Suddenly, from the undergrowth near the river, Wickham emerged, brandishing a knife. A wave of surprise washed over Elizabeth as she instinctively stepped back. Darcy moved in front of her, his body tense, ready to shield her at any cost.
“Wickham,” Darcy warned, his voice steady but low, “you should not have come here.”
Wickham's eyes glinted with malice as he took a menacing step forward, his grip tightening on the knife. “You think you can protect her, Darcy? You have no idea how far I am willing to go. Your aunt wants to meet your new bride and told me it matters not in what condition she arrives. Earlier, I asked you to give me Georgiana in place of your wife, but since you refused, I must do as your aunt wished and take your bride. She promised to pay me well.”
Elizabeth's breath hitched as she felt the tension crackle in the air. She clutched Darcy's tailcoat, seeking comfort but also recognising the threat. Darcy's jaw clenched, and he instinctively raised his arm towards the pocket where his pistol was concealed, his gaze locked on Wickham the entire time.
“Stay back, Wickham,” he warned, his voice firm. “You are outmatched, and you know it. Even with a knife, you are no match for me. Lady Catherine is no longer at Rosings and cannot pay you what she promised, although I doubt she would have done so regardless of what she said.”
Wickham sneered, his desperation morphing into a reckless bravado as he slowly advanced. “You think so, do you, Darcy? You will not stop me from taking what I want. I have warned you before. If your aunt does not pay me, I will simply keep your bride for myself. She is a pretty enough thing and will no doubt please me well enough.”
“How did you escape your prison cell, Wickham?” Darcy asked in an attempt to distract Wickham long enough for Elizabeth to get away. They were carefully inching backwards, praying that someone would come looking for them.
“It was easy enough to pick the lock on the door once that fat magistrate fell asleep,” Wickham said, holding up the knife he had and waving it around. “I took this knife from him before I slit his throat.”
Suppressing the shudder at the thought that his former playmate could so easily take a life, Darcy decided it was time to act. He moved quickly to raise the gun that was hidden in his coat pocket and fired before Wickham even registered the action. His bullet caught Wickham in the right shoulder, causing him to drop the knife and fall to the ground in pain.
Darcy moved to stand over Wickham. “Your lies and jealousy have brought you only ruin,” he spat at his former friend. “You have lost the trust of everyone who once believed in you. Not only will you be held accountable for an attempted kidnapping, but you have added the murder of a magistrate to your crimes.”
Wickham grimaced, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. “You think this is the end?” he hissed, his eyes wild with defiance. “I will have my revenge, Darcy. You cannot protect her forever!”
Darcy's expression hardened. “You will never have the chance to harm anyone by the last name of Darcy again, Wickham. My men will patch up your wound and ensure you are never found again—at least not in England. I have many connections, and if you survive this injury, your life will be decidedly unpleasant, but no less than you deserve.”
He turned to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, if you will untie my cravat, we can use it to bind Wickham’s hands. After that, I will ask you to return to the inn and summon my men to join me here.”
Nodding, Elizabeth moved to do as he asked. However, before he could leave, she offered a suggestion that brought a smile to Darcy’s face. Following her lead, he untied Wickham's cravat as well, using it as a rough gag to silence his rantings and cries of pain.
“There,” Darcy said, stepping back to survey his handiwork. “That should keep you quiet for the time being.” Wickham glared at him, but the fury in his eyes was now muted by the gag. When Darcy was momentarily distracted, Wickham tried to escape, despite his injuries and binds, and Darcy struck him across the temple, rendering him unconscious.
Before long, three of Darcy's men arrived with Elizabeth following them, leading four horses. They brought additional bindings to secure Wickham's feet and a rope to tie him to the saddle. Upon seeing the gag across Wickham's mouth, they exchanged smirks but left it in place as they prepared to set off for the final miles into London. Before his men departed, Darcy searched Wickham and found a letter from Lady Catherine confirming what Wickham had said.
Darcy returned to the inn, where he and Elizabeth informed Georgiana about Wickham’s escape and his second attempt to kidnap Elizabeth, an effort thwarted only after Darcy subdued him. Once they had explained everything, Darcy excused himself and went to his room.
Seated at the small writing desk, he took a deep breath to steady himself before beginning a letter to his cousin. Wickham’s revelation about their aunt’s scheme weighed heavily on him, its implications both distressing and far-reaching. As he put pen to paper, Darcy’s mind raced with worry, analysing the consequences of her machinations and what steps might be necessary to counter them.
Stevenage
Wednesday, 20 November, 1811
Richard,
I must inform you of a frightening encounter we had with Wickham. With some hired men, he attempted to kidnap Elizabeth as we travelled to London. Were it not for your warning to be careful and the diligence of your men in protecting us, he might have succeeded. Of course, I would not have allowed him to take my wife or sister without a fight, but it was good your men were with us.
Wickham was captured and is being taken to London by three of your men. I will provide details of this when we are in company once again. However, before he was bound and gagged, he spoke of the instigator behind all of this and the events of last summer: Lady Catherine. It appears this was not the first time she has used Wickham’s services in an attempt to force me to bend to her will.
The fool had in his possession a letter written in our aunt’s hand, ordering the abduction. Despite his capture, I fear for the safety of my wife and the well-being of my family. Lady Catherine might have others willing to act at her command. We cannot wait for her to cause harm—action must be taken before it is too late.
Please join me in London as soon as possible so we might discuss this matter further.
FD
He sealed the letter and sat back, thinking about various options for dealing with Lady Catherine.
After handing the letter to one of his men for immediate delivery to where Richard was stationed in nearby Hertfordshire, Darcy turned and found Elizabeth sitting patiently, waiting for him. He walked over to her and knelt before her.
“Wickham has been taken care of, but we must remain vigilant,” he said, his voice steady but laced with concern. “I do not know what else Lady Catherine might try, especially now. You must be cautious, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth nodded, recognising his concern. “Georgiana and I will be careful, Fitzwilliam. It is not as though we will be going anywhere by ourselves in London, and you would have insisted we go everywhere with a footman even if you were not worried about a threat. Now, however, we will be even more vigilant. Do not worry so much, my darling.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head in her stomach. “You are my life, Elizabeth. I know that I survived four years without you, but now, I do not believe I could survive if you were taken from me. You have my heart, so much more than you did that summer at Pemberley.” Darcy leant back to look at Elizabeth and lifted his hands to caress her cheeks. “I love you, Elizabeth Darcy,” he whispered, before pulling her down to touch his lips to hers.
Early the next morning, the Darcys boarded the carriage for the final leg of the journey to London. The trip was, fortunately, uneventful, and shortly after noon their carriage arrived at their house on Park Lane. Since they hoped to keep their presence from becoming public knowledge, Darcy directed their coachman to deliver them to the back of the house. It was something he frequently did on solo trips into town, when he hoped his return would go unnoted. Most of his family and a few close friends knew about this practice; though it rarely worked as well as he would have liked, it did, at least, usually delay the news.
Tired from the journey and wanting to give her brother time to show his wife their London home, Georgiana went to her room not long after arriving but not before ordering a bath and requesting a tray for her dinner. Mrs. Annesley did the same, and the two were not heard from for the rest of the day.
Elizabeth and Darcy were equally tired, but Darcy did need to spend a few minutes attending to business, so the two returned downstairs after bathing and dressing in comfortable attire.
After Darcy finished and the two shared a light meal, they settled in the library to talk. It had become an important part of their routine since their marriage, and while they regularly used this time to read books together, they also used it to discuss the happenings of the day or plans for the coming days.
Therefore, they were surprised by a knock on the open door of the library, for the servants at Pemberley had quickly learned to protect this time. “Sir, madam,” the butler said. “You have guests, the Honourable Percival Hargrove, and his wife, Mrs. Hargrove. Mrs. Hargrove claims she is your cousin.”
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other, confusion evident on their faces, both at the identity of their guests and the unusual time for a call. “Did Mrs. Hargrove happen to mention her Christian name?” Elizabeth asked.
“She did not, madam,” the butler replied.
After exchanging another glance, Elizabeth responded to the nearly imperceptible nod her husband gave. “Show them into the formal drawing room. Have a tea service prepared, but do not bring it in unless we ring for it. We will be there in a moment.” The servant nodded before departing, leaving the couple alone.
“Do you have any idea who they could be?” Elizabeth asked her husband.
“It must be Anne. She is the only female cousin I have…” he trailed off, considering. “In his last letter, Richard wrote that Lady Catherine arrived in London furious because Rosings was closed, and none of the servants would allow her to enter. Much to his father’s displeasure, she had nowhere else to go and returned to Matlock House. Anne has filed the paperwork to take control of Rosings although they were unable to discover who she married. She must have bribed the rector who performed the ceremony to keep it a secret until she announced it as no record of it can be found in London. That is, if she married in London at all.”
Entering the formal drawing room, Darcy immediately recognised the former Anne de Bourgh seated next to a young man who appeared to be just past his majority. “Anne!” Darcy greeted, surprise colouring his voice.