Chapter 4 - Alarm #3
"We do have someone living at the back of the stable, but he won't be there during winter months, at least not every day.
Pemberley is not renowned for its horses, despite having many.
Break-ins are unheard of. Besides, horses possess an innate sense of danger and an attachment to familiarity.
They won't abscond with an intruder in the dead of night, especially in such inclement weather. "
"Then, pray tell, what is that man doing in your stable?"
Darcy had no ready answer to that query. It could well be the stable lad returning to his chamber at the back of the stable. Nevertheless, it was his responsibility to make sure.
But what about Mrs. Bingley? I must take Mr. Archer to examine her. Her life is in danger. The man at the stable can wait.
Reluctantly, he set the gun back in the cabin. However, Mr. Archer had a different suggestion.
"Mr. Darcy, I believe I can see the entrance to your home. I can inquire and find my way to my patient. Allow me to ride the sleigh from here. Should you wish to check on your uninvited guest at the stable, pray do so. Just inform me of whom I should ask for when I reach the estate."
Darcy contemplated this offer. Mrs. Reynolds could easily take care of Mr. Archer and guide him to Mrs. Bingley.
“Thank you, Mr. Archer. I will do just as you suggested. Ask for Mrs. Reynolds when you reach there. She is the housekeeper and the one who suggested your name to me. She will help you to get to the invalid’s chamber,” he replied.
Darcy handed the reins to Mr. Archer, and stepped down from the sleigh. To his surprise, the dog, who had warmed up to him during their journey, also jumped out.
“Good boy, Brutus. Mr. Darcy, take him with you. Don’t worry about his performance earlier.
He can be silent when needed, and he won’t give you away.
Nothing distracts an enemy like the presence of a dog loyal to his opponent.
Besides, he possesses an instinct for knowing the right moment to act,” Mr. Archer advised as he rode away in the direction of Pemberley.
Darcy scratched the dog behind his ears, and the creature leaned into his touch. Then, as silently as possible, he walked in through the open door.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth's keen ears captured the sound of George's laughter the moment she set foot in the stable, thus providing her with a clear direction to pursue.
With measured steps, she moved in the direction of the joyous sound, ensuring to maintain a safe distance from the large horses occupying the stalls on her left.
She walked until she reached a small open area at the end of the final stall.
Turning left, she continued on, her intuition urging her toward the place where the boy's laughter had emanated before.
And then she saw him, young George, seated upon the stable floor, cradling something in his tiny hand. His gaze was fixated on a small, white horse that, to Elizabeth's dismay, seemed to be approaching the child with an inquisitive spirit. Her heart fluttered with concern. Oh, no!
In her haste to reach the boy before the horse did, Elizabeth rushed toward him, momentarily forgetting the long, trailing blanket that wrapped around her.
The blanket's edge caught her foot, and she felt her ankle twist as she stumbled forward.
Her legs couldn't keep up with her upper body, causing her to fall face-first onto the hard stable floor.
She somehow managed to free her hands from the blanket's folds to break her fall and shield her face from harm.
Despite her efforts, a tumble was inevitable.
She landed with a thud beside the boy, startling the horse into a hasty retreat.
"Aunt Lizzy? Did you walk out in the snow and fall too? Now you'll get sick like Aunt Jane," George exclaimed, his hands on his head.
Lying prone on the ground, she turned her head to face the boy, who stared at her with wide-eyed wonder.
Her shoulders ached, and her left ankle throbbed intensely.
Summoning every strength she possessed, she rose to a sitting position using her hands.
However, any attempt to stand proved futile.
As soon as she put weight on her left leg, a sharp surge of pain shot through her, and she immediately settled back down.
Slowly lifting her gown, she examined her ankle in the dim light of the stable, unaware of the presence of someone else watching intently.
There was no swelling yet, but swelling could take time.
She feared that her ankle could be broken, or the best outcome would be a sprain.
It was then that she sensed another presence behind her. Turning back, she stared right into the tip of a gun pointed at her.
Hurst
Hurst was growing increasingly anxious for his son's well-being.
When he first heard of George's disappearance, his first instinct was to search in the attic.
After all, a six-year-old boy like George would be terrified of exploring unfamiliar rooms. The attic held a sense of familiarity for him, making it the most probable location.
However, after a thorough examination of the attic and its adjoining chambers, he found himself with no further course of action.
It was then a frantic maid approached him, urgently advising him to run to the sick chamber.
He hurried there, with Charles and Louisa in close pursuit.
Upon entering the chamber, they found Lady Catherine composedly seated beside Jane.
When she shared the information from Mrs. Goulding, Hurst couldn't believe what he was hearing.
George travelling alone to the stable in the dead of night, in this snow? No, that can't be right.
“No, Lady Catherine. He would be terrified of walking to the stable like that. It might be some animal trying to find shelter from the snow,” he replied, shaking his head.
A tender touch on his hand made him turn to his tearful wife.
"Reginald, earlier today, George approached me with a toy in hand—a white pony. He was aware of a similar looking pony in Mr. Darcy’s stable and expressed his desire to see that pony.
I cautioned him against it due to the severe weather and assured him you would accompany him once the weather cleared.
I believed I had reassured him sufficiently. "
Hurst remained unconvinced. The notion of a six-year-old child embarking on a solitary journey to the stable in such harsh conditions seemed incredulous.
Yet, he felt compelled to investigate. The knowledge of George's supposed wish to visit the stable and Mrs. Goulding's sighting of a small figure near the stable was too coincidental to disregard.
Just as he resolved to head to the stable, Louisa spoke up.
"Reginald, if you don't go, I shall go to the stable myself. Every instinct in me tells me that our son is there right now."
"No," Hurst blurted out, immediately regretting his sharp tone, which had startled Louisa. In a gentler voice, he continued, "No, Louisa. Stay here with Charles. I will go to the stable and bring back George."
With that, he nodded to Charles and hastily made his way toward the estate's front entrance. Even in his anxious state, he did not overlook his wife addressing him by his given name in public for the first time.
Darcy
Darcy entered the stable and paused in the corridor.
The expansive space of the stable lay before him, stretching in both directions.
There were no signs of the intruder in either direction, and he had to make a decision.
Just as he was about to turn left, Brutus unexpectedly opted for the opposite direction.
Trusting the hound's instincts, Darcy changed his course and followed the dog.
As he reached the final stall, Brutus turned left into the clearing, and Darcy followed suit.
Then, a sudden sound caught his attention—the unmistakable noise of something falling onto the hard floor.
He swiftly ran in the direction of the sound.
His eyes widened in surprise and disbelief as he witnessed an unexpected scene before him.
A boy was sitting on the floor, staring at a prone figure, a woman, who was struggling to get up.
The horse, the small white pony that he purchased recently as a gift to Georgiana, was at the far end of the small stall, apparently scared of the intruders.
As he observed, the figure managed to sit up.
It was then that he recognized her face.
He also realized that the young boy was George, Hurst’s child.
God in heaven, what in the world are they doing in the stable at this hour?
His initial instinct was to reveal himself and ask the question directly.
But then he saw Elizabeth trying to stand up, only to return to the floor in pain.
She clutched her left ankle. To his horror, she slowly lifted her gown and lowered her stockings, revealing a clear view of her shapely white ankle—a sight he had long fantasised about.
He knew he should avert his gaze, but he found himself momentarily captivated.
However, it wasn't long before Darcy noticed another shadowy figure, covered with blankets from head to foot, slowly approaching her from behind with a gun in hand.
Dear God! Who is that?
Wickham
Wickham had to wait for approximately ten minutes before he spotted the boy walking inside. The boy was evidently afraid yet simultaneously delighted with his achievement. Wickham knew he had played his cards right. Every Darcy is proud, even a six-year-old one.