Chapter Eleven
Bennet brought Darcy into Longbourn’s drawing room—where he described the particulars of the situation.
Elizabeth had ventured out for a walk, as was her wont, but she had not returned in a timely manner.
Thinking she might have been injured, Bennet had sent servants seeking her along her usual paths, but they had found no evidence of her.
Darcy could hardly contain his anxiety. It was possible she had encountered a mishap such as an injured ankle.
But it was far more likely the Necromancer was responsible for her disappearance and he could not help recalling what the man had done to England’s other two vivomancers.
Perhaps she had merely been abducted. And what had his life come to when that was the best he could hope for?
Mrs. Bennet invited Darcy to sit, but he could not bear the thought of confining himself to one place. Instead, he ranged around the drawing room, endeavoring to satisfy his need for immediate action.
When he had last viewed her, framed by the blossoms in the garden, she had been so winsome.
He had thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, and yet he had only spoken of the constraints on his life and how he must leave Hertfordshire.
How could he have been so cruel? Why had he not at least related how important she was to him?
It was such a miracle to have captured even a small measure of her regard.
He had been prepared for the idea that he might never encounter her again. But the idea that she might not continue to live in the world was insupportable.
Richard had joined them and was having a terse discourse with Bennet about where they had searched when Colonel Forster arrived.
He related the disturbing news that Wickham was missing as well, and a fellow officer had glimpsed the man on a back road riding in a well-appointed carriage. Darcy barely managed to stifle an oath.
The colonel looked pained as he delicately inquired of Bennet, “Sir…is it possible that your daughter accompanied Mr. Wickham…er…willingly?”
Richard’s eyes went wide, and Darcy’s stomach sank.
Elizabeth had danced two sets with Wickham at the Lucas Lodge ball.
She had smiled and obviously enjoyed his company.
An elopement was the obvious conclusion that the entire neighborhood would draw.
And Darcy could not say that they would be wrong.
Was it possible Wickham had turned the full force of his pensimancy on Elizabeth and convinced her to run away with him?
Darcy’s legs buckled, and he fell into the nearest chair.
His gut churned sickeningly. It was quite horribly possible.
He could be smooth, charming—everything Darcy was not.
She had known Darcy would not marry her.
Had Wickham used his magic to present himself as a cure for her heartbreak?
Oh, Elizabeth…she would be lost to Darcy forever.
“No.” Jane stood up. “Lizzy would never do such a thing! She never confided in me any particular affection for Mr. Wickham, and even if she possessed it, she would never want to bring scandal upon our family.”
Bennet nodded. “Well said, Jane. I agree.”
Pensimancy could not be used to force a person to do something against their nature. An enormous weight had been removed from Darcy’s chest. He could breathe again.
Richard spoke up. “And there is the matter of the carriage. Someone lent it to Wickham. He did not have the funds to buy or rent such an equipage. That suggests he has a patron who wished him to…locate Miss Elizabeth for some other object.” He exchanged a look with Darcy; they both knew the necromancer was well-born and was likely to have such a carriage.
Colonel Forster raised his eyebrows. “A patron who wanted Wickham to abduct a young woman?” His eyes were wide with horror. “Toward what end?”
Richard stepped forward. “It is time I revealed myself. I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, a representative of the Council’s Assessor’s Agency.
” Forster nodded while Bennet looked shocked.
“I believe Miss Elizabeth’s abduction is related to an investigation our Agency is conducting into a necromancer.
” He was careful not to glance at Darcy.
While Richard was an acknowledged agent, Darcy’s role was secret.
“A necromancer?” Jane said. “The one who sent the wights?”
Bennet jumped to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at Darcy. “This is all your fault, is it not? My daughter has been caught up in your web of lies!”
Darcy said nothing and forced himself to meet the man’s accusing gaze. He was bound by multiple oaths not to reveal anything, but he knew in his heart that Bennet was right. None of this would have happened if Darcy had not been foolish enough to entrust Elizabeth’s secret to the Council.
Richard interposed himself between Darcy and Bennet, speaking in a low, soothing tone. “Darcy became inadvertently involved in a case I am pursuing—”
Bennet snorted disdainfully. “Inadvertently? Pah!”
“—involving an unknown necromancer who is undoubtedly of noble lineage.”
“An aristocratic necromancer? Good God!” Colonel Forster gasped.
“The man may be mistaken about the Bennet family’s involvement in my case or how much they know.
He may have enlisted Wickham in an attempt to glean information from Miss Elizabeth.
” It was a rather thin explanation for recent events, but it satisfied the colonel.
“Now we must search for the carriage.” Richard addressed Forster. “Can your men help?”
“Of course!” the colonel replied immediately. “I am ashamed that one of my officers is involved in such a sordid business. I will go to the garrison this minute and arrange for all available men to search the surrounding area.”
The minute the colonel had retreated from the room, Bennet strode toward Darcy. “They were right! I trusted you, but there is something dark in your soul—”
“Sir!” Richard interrupted. “I must ask you, who is the source of these aspersions cast on Darcy’s character?”
Bennet looked confused and turned to his wife. “Where did you hear it, Mrs. Bennet?”
“It was all from Mr. Wickham!” she said shrilly. “He explained everything at the ball.”
Richard crossed his arms over his chest. “This is the same Wickham who we suspect of attempting to kidnap your daughter. Perhaps we might disregard his opinion?”
Bennet rubbed his hands over his face. “Yes, yes. That would be best. What a muddle.” He stared at nothing for a long moment. “I will send out my servants again. They know the area; perhaps they can locate this carriage.” He strode from the room.
Darcy shook his head. “A swift carriage could be halfway to London by now.”
“Perhaps…with a cooperative abductee,” Richard said. “I only met Miss Elizabeth once, but I cannot imagine that she would be easy to abduct.”
Darcy’s lips twitched. “True enough.” He stood. “I will send a note to Bingley. He and his staff will undoubtedly desire to help search.”
But before he reached the door, it swung open, and Colonel Forster burst into the room, waving a piece of paper.
“Just now I received a note from my clerk. Two of my officers found a coachman in Meryton by the name of Conners, who swore that the vines attacked him in the Old Forest. He was hired by Wickham, and Conners can take us to the place.”
***
Elizabeth’s breath came in ragged gasps, and the brambles caught at the hem of her skirts, but she dared not slow her pace.
As she crashed through the undergrowth, she could occasionally discern the noises of pursuit.
She could not discern if it was one man or two following her, but she was in danger either way.
Wickham would have no trouble finding the trail of broken twigs and flattened grass she had left behind.
Coaxing the ivy into doing her bidding had consumed most of her magical reserves; she was not equal to repeating the trick. Flight was her only hope.
She climbed hills, dodged around boulders, and ducked under branches.
She endeavored to hold her skirts up, but too often she needed her hands to navigate the terrain.
Despite the sunlight, the forest floor was dark, and she often stumbled over tree roots.
If I had enough time, I would climb a tree.
Even in a dress, she had practice in tree climbing.
Unladylike pursuits offered some advantages.
But she could always hear Wickham following her, never far enough away that she could take the time to hide. And she was slowing down. She attempted to dig deep and find a little more energy, but her legs were like lead weights. The air she dragged into her lungs burned like fire.
She stumbled. No, no! Keep going! her inner voice screamed at her. She regained her footing and pushed through, climbing a steep hill. And then Wickham was in front of her.
She slammed to a stop, momentarily astonished. He grinned. “You didn’t notice the short cut, did you?” He gestured to a quasi-path that led to the top of the hill.
She started to back away, but it was too late. Wickham grabbed both her arms and threw her to the ground. Her head cracked on a rock, creating stars in her vision and causing darkness to encroach around the edges. She struggled to remain aware as the world spun and lurched around her.
Wickham’s face loomed above hers. He smiled grimly. “You should have just climbed into the carriage. It will be troublesome walking you back to the road.” He pulled out a knife and held the point to her throat. “I would just as soon slit your throat, but my master wants you alive for some reason.”
Elizabeth endeavored to muster coherent thoughts through the pain and dizziness in her head. She reached out to the plants and animals around her—birds, rabbits, ivy, trees—but she could touch nothing outside her own body. Fatigue and the head injury combined to limit the reach of her mancy.