Chapter 4 - Alarm #4
Wickham approached the boy with the intention of guiding him to the back of the stable, the child took him by surprise by darting into the far end of the corridor and turning left from there.
Wickham quickened his pace, striving to keep pace.
Eventually, he caught up to the boy, who had halted before a small white pony.
Just as he was about to approach the child again, he noticed the arrival of another shadowy figure coming towards the front entrance of the stable.
He swiftly concealed himself, holding firm to his resolve not to reveal his presence to anyone other than his intended targets.
To his complete surprise and delight, the woman he had glimpsed in the window, Mrs. Darcy, rushed in.
In her haste to reach the boy, she stumbled on her blanket and promptly fell face-first in front of the boy.
What a gift! It is truly my day. I can take care of both his wife and son. Things are literally ‘falling’ into place for me.
Wickham carried a gun, though he harboured no intention of firing it.
Gunshots could be heard even in this weather.
He was cautious not to alert Darcy's men to the stable before he could effect his escape.
He had another method to immobilise the boy and the woman, and the gun could be used to 'persuade' them if needed.
Once that was done, he just needed to drag them behind the thick bushes behind the stable.
They would likely freeze to death within hours.
No one would think about checking on the bushes behind the stable in time to save them.
None of the deaths should be linked to him before he departed the country.
The boy’s gaze was fixated on the pony, while Mrs. Darcy was sitting on the floor with her back to him. Wickham slowly advanced towards the lady. As he drew nearer, he pointed the gun at the back of her head. Just then, she abruptly turned to face him, her expression filled with fear.
To his utter amazement, she recognized him immediately. What the devil!
Elizabeth
Elizabeth stared at the man she had never expected to encounter in this life again, the man she loathed with all her heart.
"Mr. Wickham," she uttered his name aloud, taking the man completely by surprise. Unbeknownst to her, this unexpected exclamation also startled another gentleman standing roughly twenty feet away.
"An excellent memory, Miss... er, Mrs. Darcy, I had hoped to maintain my disguise in these parts for a while longer. Nevertheless, it is of no consequence. You shall not breathe a word of my presence here to anyone," he replied.
In that very moment, as Wickham addressed her as "Mrs. Darcy," Elizabeth understood Mr. Wickham's motives. It also clarified why Mr. Wickham had singled her out to share his tale of grievances back in Hertfordshire. He had detected Mr. Darcy's affection for her even before she had seen it herself.
She cast a furtive glance at George, who was still fixated on the horse, blissfully unaware of the gun.
I must prolong this, so that Charles or Mr. Hurst can arrive here.
Gathering all her courage, she spoke aloud, wishing her words might be heard by anyone entering the stable.
“Mr. Wickham, Colonel Forster assured us that we would never lay eyes on your face again. I wasn't aware that there were means to return from the Caribbean islands," she remarked, attempting to sound nonchalant.
By this time, George had taken notice of the firearm.
Elizabeth silently hoped that the boy would move closer to her.
Her injured ankle left her in no condition to reach him.
With the gun pointed at her, she was too frightened to make any sudden movements.
She also hoped the boy would avoid calling her "Aunt Lizzy", wanting to shield their true identities from Mr. Wickham for as long as possible.
She suspected he was savouring this moment, relishing having the family of his arch-nemesis within his grasp.
She wished to prolong his enjoyment and buy some more time.
“Why is Mr. George William showing us his gun?” George inquired suddenly.
George William?
Darcy
Wickham, here of all places? How on earth had he returned from the Caribbean islands?
Darcy had been so taken aback when Elizabeth addressed Wickham by name that he had almost betrayed his presence.
But as soon as Wickham spoke, there was no mistaking that voice—Darcy could recognize it anywhere.
It was unmistakably Wickham, who appeared to be labouring under the assumption that Elizabeth is his wife and George his son.
Darcy understood Elizabeth's strategy. She was attempting to prolong the situation by engaging in conversation. With Wickham's gun pointed at her, Darcy had no choice but to stay hidden. If Wickham sensed his presence, panic might drive him to pull the trigger.
Darcy fixed his gaze on Wickham's firearm.
It was a Derringer Pistol, designed to fire a single shot before needing to be reloaded.
That meant Wickham couldn't target both Elizabeth and the boy without a pause to reload.
In contrast, Darcy held a customised Flintlock Pistol, a gift from Richard, fully loaded and capable of discharging six rounds.
Yet, deep inside, he knew that Wickham's one bullet was more than sufficient.
If Wickham managed to use it against Elizabeth, injuring or killing her, Darcy would be virtually defenceless.
He would never live past that. And knowing Wickham, if he had to choose between shooting Darcy or Elizabeth, he would undoubtedly opt for the latter.
Wickham knew precisely how to inflict maximum pain.
Even with all the incorrect information Wickham possessed, he held all the power.
Wickham
Wickham also perceived Mrs. Darcy's strategy.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy. I have no time for conversation, and I have other matters to attend to.
I've made a promise to your son to assist him in naming the pony,” he declared abruptly as he moved closer to George, maintaining the gun aimed at Elizabeth.
Her sudden anxiety betrayed that she wasn't prepared for this turn of events.
He then produced a small vial from his pocket and slid it in her direction, his firearm now directly aimed at George.
“Well, Mrs. Darcy, if you value your son’s life, take that vial and drink it. It is just laudanum, not concentrated enough to kill you. You will feel sleepy. As I mentioned, I wish to spend some time with your son alone.”
Elizabeth
Where is Charles and Mr. Hurst? Why is it taking them so long?
Elizabeth was no longer certain of Mr. Wickham's intentions. Devoid of expertise in firearms, she was unable to deduce that Mr. Wickham's pistol contained a single bullet. The vial appeared to be ordinary laudanum, but she had no certainty of that fact.
What is his plan? Is he trying to kidnap us? Or is he trying to abduct George by silencing me with laudanum?
She knew she had to make a decision soon.
Mr. Wickham was waiting for her to consume the vial's contents.
His gun remained pointed at George. Refusing to comply might lead Mr. Wickham to shoot her or, even worse, George.
But if she acquiesced, she remained uncertain about the fate that awaited her.
Drinking the laudanum could leave George at Mr. Wickham's mercy.
She remained on the floor, her throbbing ankle reminding her of the pain. She couldn’t even stand, so making a run for it was out of the question. However, she could still reach the laudanum from her seated position by just extending her hands.
Slowly, taking as much time as she could muster, Elizabeth's hands inched toward the vial.
Please God, send someone to save us.
Throughout her life, God had answered Elizabeth's prayers in unexpected ways. This time was no exception.
The "someone" Providence chose wasn't a person but a large hound Elizabeth had never seen before. It darted in front of her and knocked the vial out of her reach. Simultaneously, a gunshot pierced the air, and Elizabeth anxiously turned her gaze to George. Oh no!
The boy had covered his ears, clearly frightened by the gunshot. Meanwhile, Mr. Wickham sat on the ground, clutching his bloody right hand with his left, and unleashing curses that Elizabeth had never heard before.
"Wickham, I thought you always aimed to be a gentleman. A true gentleman never uses such language in the presence of a lady," remarked Mr. Darcy as he entered, his gun trained on Mr. Wickham.
Wickham
Damnation!
The bullet struck squarely on Wickham's right wrist, causing a significant flow of blood. His firearm was torn from his grasp, and he had no idea of its whereabouts. The pain in his hand was excruciating.
Wickham gazed up and saw that Darcy’s attention was on his wife. The boy, on the other hand, remained in front of Wickham, with his hand covering her ears. Wickham briefly pondered why the boy had not fled. Then, in a flash, he saw his opportunity.
Remaining in his seated position, he swiftly pulled the boy closer with his bloody right hand. At the same time, he reached into his pocket with his left hand to retrieve his knife, which he placed against the boy's throat. Rising to his feet, he confronted his long-standing adversary.
"Well, Darcy! Delighted to meet you again," he declared, wincing as his right hand burned with pain.
Darcy
Much like Wickham, Darcy had no intention of discharging his firearm when a child was present to witness it. He bided his time, waiting for the opportune moment when Wickham's attention might be diverted, allowing him to disarm the rogue. But the dog took the decision away from him.