Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Silently, they walked the woods together, Mr Darcy supporting Elizabeth, and Mr Bingley just behind them, verily dragging their captive through the wet grass until they reached the stile that marked the beginning of the path to Longbourn.
Two horses stood beyond the stile, their reins hastily tied to the post. Shame burnt through Elizabeth.
Jane must have told them of my stupidity as soon as she saw them.
How fortunate I was that they came to my rescue.
The sight of the horses also prompted Mr Wickham into action.
“You mean to take me to the magistrates, I presume? If you do, then I shall tell the world that Miss Elizabeth arranged to meet me in secret. Hardly the conduct of a virtuous woman! And I shall also be required to reveal her involvement in suppressing your sister’s misdeeds.
I do not know what you were thinking, sending her to trick me, but you cannot have thought that I would willingly hand over Georgiana’s letters.
If anyone should ask, I will say that your Miss Elizabeth offered me far more than her godfather’s favour in return, and that was all you interrupted—”
A fierce growl erupted from Mr Darcy, and he left Elizabeth’s side, his hands around Mr Wickham’s collar. “One more word from you, and I cannot be held responsible for my actions!” Mr Wickham’s eyes bulged under the pressure of Mr Darcy’s grip, but there was still a mocking smirk upon his lips.
Unable to witness any more of the calamity that her foolhardy actions had caused, Elizabeth went quickly to Mr Darcy and rested her hand on his shoulder, a silent entreaty for him to stop. At her touch, he eased his grip a fraction.
Carefully she said, “What a pity that Mr Wickham’s debts have provoked him to stoop to poaching in the woods.
He may not know it, but my father owns all the land up to the oak.
He will be unhappy to learn of Mr Wickham’s crimes, unhappier still when he hears that it is his daughter who discovered them.
I am certain he would wish for Mr Wickham to be detained without delay—” here she lowered her voice and applied a meaningful pressure on Mr Darcy’s arm “—and for his lodgings to be searched for signs of any wrongdoing.”
Miss Darcy’s letters. A quick nod indicated he had understood the significance behind her words.
“A wise plan, Miss Elizabeth.” His body still tense, Mr Darcy returned his attention to Mr Wickham, gripping him hard.
“And I should remind you not to speak another word, lest you reveal some other crime that we might need to relay to the authorities. You would not want to be accused of more than poaching.”
Their eyes met, a silent battle of wills, and then, with a frustrated growl, Mr Wickham turned away.
Elizabeth shivered, her hands numb with cold and the lingering fear of all she had endured.
Mr Darcy took her arm again and supported her over the wooden planks.
He carefully assisted her down and went back to help Bingley haul Mr Wickham over the stile.
Wordlessly, Mr Darcy returned to her side and guided her towards his horse.
She gave a quiet noise of protest, which he ignored, and made a loop with his hands.
Blushing, she placed her wet boot in his clasp and used the momentum of his push to climb into the saddle.
Her shoulder still throbbed, but the pain had mercifully subsided to the point where she could move it without wincing.
Her dress caught underneath her, but she found it too much of an effort to reach down.
Mr Darcy freed the folds with a decisive pull, his expression still thunderous from his exchange with Mr Wickham.
She struggled to arrange herself in the saddle, knowing that she could not ride astride and opened her mouth to tell him so.
“It is not far.” It was as though he had heard her thoughts. “We will continue slowly, and you must hold on as much as your shoulder will allow. I shall take the reins. Tell me if the discomfort becomes too great.”
And then, with no other words spoken between them, Mr Darcy took control of Mr Bingley’s horse and walked between the two animals in the direction of Longbourn.
Mr Bingley walked behind them, with Mr Wickham firmly in his grasp, and it was not long before the house came into view.
A fresh wave of rain pelted down and two young grooms ran from the stables to offer assistance.
“I will escort Miss Elizabeth inside,” Mr Darcy called to Mr Bingley over the rising wind.
“I trust you to see that this sorry excuse for a man is securely detained.” Tugging sharply on the bindings between Mr Wickham’s hands, Mr Bingley nodded grimly and gave his prisoner a resounding shove between the shoulder blades in the direction of the stables.
Turning to Elizabeth, Mr Darcy reached up to help her from the horse, his two large hands wrapped firmly around her waist. He guided her towards the main entrance and pulled her under the shelter of the portico.
Raising his hand, he went to knock on the door but then froze and turned quickly to face her.
“What were you thinking?” His voice was raised over the sound of raindrops beating against the flagstones.
Elizabeth looked at him in utter bewilderment. She had heard his anger before, seen the evidence of it forming on Mr Wickham’s face, but never had its full force been directed at her. Unprepared, she floundered, “I…um…”
“You could have been seriously injured!” he hissed, his cheeks white. “That man is a menace to women. You should never have met with him alone.”
The warmth of her tears mixed with the icy rainwater on Elizabeth’s face, and she looked up at him imploringly. “Forgive me, I had no idea… I found his threat to you… I only wished to help…” Her teeth began to chatter. “I thought he might be persuaded to give up the letters in exchange for…”
“It was not worth the risk to you!” His voice was still heavy with emotion, but Elizabeth was too cold and exhausted to understand every nuance.
All she heard was his disappointment. A wave of guilt rose inside her, and she swayed, momentarily light-headed. Mr Darcy immediately put out his hand to steady her. With his other hand, he knocked on the door to gain entrance from Mr Harris who looked horrified at the sight of Elizabeth.
As they crossed the threshold together, Elizabeth placed her fingers on his arm and brought her head closer to his.
She needed to explain herself, to give some justification for her conduct but the words stuck in her throat.
Murmuring so only he could hear, she whispered, “Seven letters, he said. I do not know if that is true, but that is what he told me.”
Mr Darcy’s eyes widened in understanding, and he gave a curt nod of his head.
“Thank you. I shall be sure his rooms are thoroughly searched,” he said under his breath before assisting her to sit next to the nearest fire.
Mrs Hill rushed into the room, bringing blankets and warm bricks, and Mr Darcy retreated, his hands swinging awkwardly by his sides, his expression grave, watching her before a request for his presence in Mr Bennet’s book-room called him away.
Giving her one more earnest glance, he bowed swiftly and excused himself, leaving Elizabeth to face the consequences of her folly alone.