Chapter Fourteen
WHEN A DISTRACTED GEORGIANA STEPPED FROM THE WALKWAY TO cross the street, she took no note of the broken slat of its wooden frame. She stepped fully on it, and a protruding nail easily penetrated her day slippers. “Oh my!” she screeched and grasped the back of a nearby bench for support.
She fought back tears as Belton rushed to her side. “Miss Darcy,” he inquired urgently, “are you injured?”
“I do not think I can walk,” she whispered.
“Shall I carry you, Miss?”
“My brother would be furious,” Georgiana responded. “Assist me to the bench and then fetch my brother. Have the carriage brought closer.”
Belton straightened before protesting, “Mr. Darcy will not like my leaving both you and Mrs. Darcy behind.”
“Belton, my foot is bleeding into my slipper. Now, hurry, please.”
The footman did as she requested. “I will return with the carriage and your brother, Miss.” The man left at a near run.
Elizabeth thumbed through the book she found on the floor as the clerk totaled her purchases and prepared them for shipping to Derbyshire.
She noted references to the crucifix, the rosary, and holy water, as well as beliefs regarding mirrors.
She remembered Wickham’s blurry reflection in the window in Meryton, and suddenly things made sense.
Darcy told her of using the vial of holy water when Wickham approached Georgiana at Ramsgate.
On another page, she discovered that Germans believed the head should be buried between the feet to release the soul.
It seems as though Darcy was right on that point, she thought.
Flipping the page again, her eyes fell on a sketch of a woman holding a crucifix and a vampire retreating.
She thought how foolish the drawing appeared until she read the caption: “Say the vampire’s name backwards as you bring forth the crucifix.
” Well, she thought, I wonder if that would do the trick?
Elizabeth closed the book and slid it towards the clerk.
“This is quite an agglomeration,” the old man said with amusement.
“My father reads everything having to do with Scottish beliefs, folklore, and customs,” she declared.
“I thought to share these with him after I learn more about the beginnings of the well-dressing ceremonies. I understand them to be based on ancient pagan customs. Mr. Darcy and I only recently married, and I have yet to see his estate. I do not want the villagers to judge my ignorance on such traditions as being a poor reflection on my husband. Moreover, I have a cousin who leaves for Jamaica soon. I thought he would find the books on spirits and such amusing.”
“Your thoughtfulness is admirable, Mrs. Darcy,” the man observed as he stacked the items. The shopkeeper picked up the last two books. “And these are to be delivered to Darcy House?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I require.”
Wickham waited until the street was deserted before he made his appearance, and then he slid in beside her.
With a knife aimed at her lower back, he whispered softly, “I missed you, Georgiana.” She jerked upward in surprise before he caught her arm.
He took great pleasure in watching the terror spread across her face.
“We hold unfinished business, my dear. Have I ever told you how you remind me of someone I once loved? Now, be a good girl and stand slowly. We will step into the alley.” He noted how she searched for an escape.
“Do not consider it,” he warned. “I have a knife poised at your side. I can either kill you right here, or you may come with me and join me in eternal life. The choice is yours.” She did not move, so he pulled her to her feet.
“You will join in the pleasure,” he taunted her, while directing her to the shadowy alley.
“I look forward to this, Georgiana. I have waited a long time.”
Stepping from the bookstore, Elizabeth found neither her husband nor the carriage.
“Where can they be?” she mused aloud. “Surely Georgiana and Belton are at the coach by now.” Impatient, as usual, she paced along the walkway.
It was not like Darcy to be late. Never had she known him to be tardy for anything.
Agitated, she searched both sides of the street for her husband, Georgiana, or even one of the servants in the Darcy livery.
Reaching the alley, a flash of color along a row of boxes caught her eye, and, intuitively, Elizabeth turned towards the bright object.
It is Georgiana’s slipper! How did it get there?
And where is she? Impulsively, she rushed forward to retrieve it.
The overhang of the buildings blocked the little winter sun the day offered, and the alley itself, although not totally black, was heavily draped in shadows.
“Georgiana?” she called, and then listened before stepping further into the opening.
Nothing moved, and Elizabeth turned to leave, but then a muffled whimper froze her in place.
“Georgiana!” she yelled louder, before charging into the dusky obscurity.
As if a theatrical light were thrown on the scene, Elizabeth stared in horror at the tableau playing out before her.
Georgiana, wide-eyed, stood in the narrow, gloom-filled close, surrounded by the various shops on the main street.
Wickham held one hand over Georgiana’s mouth and the other wrapped around her waist, and her hands were tied behind her back.
Georgiana struggled to free herself, but Wickham’s mouth remained poised above the indentation of her neck.
“Step away, Mr. Wickham!” Elizabeth’s voice rebounded off the brick walls.
“Mrs. Darcy.” He raised his head but did not release his captive. “You may be next, but you must wait your turn, my dear. Your lovely sister is ahead of you.”
Elizabeth squared her shoulders. If she could delay the wretched creature who was hovering over Georgiana, perhaps Darcy would arrive in time to assist her. She spoke slowly and loudly: “I said to release her!”
“If you insist, Elizabeth,” Wickham said with a laugh, but he did not slacken his hold on Georgiana. “You may go first.”
“I am not Elizabeth to you,” she insisted. She lifted the chain from about her neck, exposing the jeweled cross. “You will release Mr. Darcy’s sister.”
He challenged, “Do you think that pitiful crucifix has any effect on me?”
“Actually, I believe it does,” she asserted. “If not, you would have claimed me at the Netherfield Manor House.” She extended the cross before her for protection. “I think, Mr. Wickham, the reason Georgiana is still alive is because she wears a similar crucifix.”
“This thing?” Wickham used his hand to flick at the chain, but Elizabeth noted he did not touch the cross.
Realizing Georgiana required hope if they stood a chance of surviving this encounter, Elizabeth addressed Darcy’s sister directly: “Georgiana, you must believe in your brother. The crucifix protects you as long as you wear it.” She watched with satisfaction as the terror on the girl’s face diminished.
“Your brother does all to protect you. Continue to believe in him.”
Wickham jerked Georgiana closer, but Elizabeth noted a bit of confusion crossed his expression.
“Why do you care if I take her?” Wickham countered. “Why not claim the freedom you will earn with her death?” He wrenched Georgiana’s head to the side to expose her neck again.
“Because we all swore to end the curse that our ancestors began,” Elizabeth said coolly.
“Our ancestors?” Wickham repeated sneeringly.
Elizabeth smiled. “Do you really not know that Arawn Benning was my ancestor, just as Ellender D’Arcy was William’s? How ignorant you are! It is Fate that brings my dear husband and me together. You cannot defeat us, Wickham,” she insisted.
“Yet I can still exact my revenge.”
Elizabeth attempted to think of something to frighten Wickham away. She still clutched the crucifix before her. Then she thought of the diagram from the book. “Wickham George!” she called out as she took a step forward.
Wickham did not turn a hair. “My followers call me My lord. You may do so when you join me.”
“Pigs will sprout wings first.” Elizabeth’s mind raced. If Darcy were coming, he would be here. Reverse the letters. Visualize Wickham’s name and reverse the letters. It was a silly thought, but she was desperate. “Mahkicw Egroeg!” she tried.
“Gibberish, Mrs. Darcy?” Wickham inquired mockingly. “You are grasping at straws, my dear.” He lowered his voice and spoke in an intimate tone, “Taking you will double my pleasure. Revenge on both the D’Arcys and the Bennings in one fell swoop.”
Darcy bounded from the coach almost before it could stop. Belton jumped from the rear perch. Both men looked to the bench where the footman had left Georgiana. “Where is she?” Darcy demanded.
“I do n … not know, Mr. Darcy,” the servant stammered, afraid for both his position and for the girl he had left sitting on the bench. “Perhaps Mrs. Darcy took your sister into the bookstore to tend to her wound where no one could view them.”
Darcy did not respond. He simply strode towards the storefront, fully expecting to find both Elizabeth and Georgiana waiting for him, but no one was to be seen, not even the clerk. “Hello in the store!” he called at the top of his lungs.
A stirring from the back of the building could be heard, and within a few seconds, a man appeared. “Yes, Sir. May I be of service?”
“I am Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. I believe my wife and sister were both in here minutes ago,” Darcy said impatiently.
“Your sister, Mr. Darcy, departed first with your footman there. Your wife followed five minutes later. Mrs. Darcy took her leave at least ten minutes prior, Sir.”
Darcy tapped his cane to his hat in a salute of gratitude, but his mind was not on the conversation. Immediately, he was back on the street, searching the storefronts for the faces he most loved. “Belton, go down the other side as far down as where you found me, and work your way back.”
“Yes, Sir.” The man took off at a trot, searching every nook and cranny.