Chapter 31
“George! George!” Mrs. Younge exclaimed from her position near the window.
Wickham, who was flopped on the bed nursing a hangover, lifted one weary eyelid. “What is it?”
“Darcy and his company just appeared … there they are! They are getting into the carriage!”
Headache forgotten, Wickham leaped to his feet and rushed over to stare out at the courtyard behind the red brick house.
He could see the tall form of Fitzwilliam Darcy helping a feminine figure wearing a familiar bonnet into the carriage.
Even as the twosome watched from their rented room, Darcy climbed in after his sister.
“It is time,” Wickham said, grabbing a bag containing various accouterments for an abduction, and hurried out the door with Mrs. Younge in pursuit.
/
“We will be back in less than two hours,” Darcy said to his coachman.
The man bobbed his head respectfully and carefully directed his horses to move off the rough road which ran parallel to the beach.
Darcy gave one glance around him and noted, absently, that two horses were approaching from the direction of Ramsgate, though he was too far away to see the riders clearly.
He was a trifle surprised that anyone else was using the trail today.
During their past trips to Ramsgate, they had rarely seen others while enjoying the sights and studying the birds.
With his party disappearing down the path toward the beach, he hurried to catch up with them.
/
“Do you think Mr. Darcy recognized us?” Mrs. Younge asked fearfully as Wickham directed his horse onto a narrow trail that led toward the ocean.
“No, of course not, or he would have chased us down in outrage,” Wickham answered irritably, though he kept his voice low.
“Henrietta, my dear, you need to get hold of yourself. We will tie the horses along the path and proceed to the treeline near the ocean. We will hide amongst foliage until Georgiana wanders by and then drag her into the wood. By the time Darcy realizes she has disappeared, we will have her on my horse and will be on our way.”
“She may not wander this far north,” Henrietta murmured.
“If she does not, we will try again another day,” Wickham said patiently. “You know how much the girl likes this beach. This will not be her only trip here.”
Mrs. Younge blew out a breath and struggled to calm her racing heart. This was their only chance of escaping the dreary poverty of their lives. They would not, could not, fail.
/
The trail which led to the water was narrow, and Elizabeth, tugging at her skirt to free herself from a drooping branch, congratulated herself once again for bringing several older gowns for her journey to Ramsgate.
Mrs. Bennet had been horrified, of course.
She always wanted her daughters dressed very well when in company, but Elizabeth had insisted that Georgiana would likely want to visit places with mud and weeds.
The path opened out into open sea and sky, and Elizabeth gaped in awe.
She had been greatly impressed with the beach at Ramsgate, but the shore here was wild and free with blue sky overhead, interspersed with a few wispy white clouds, with rough grasses at her feet, pools and rivulets of water flowing across wet sand, and strange mossy clumps which decorated the beach area.
“Is it not marvelous?” Georgiana asked, her eyes glowing with pleasure.
“It is absolutely incredible!” Elizabeth replied joyfully. “Do you not think so, Miss de Bourgh?”
“I do,” Anne said softly. She had missed the trip to the beach the day before and found herself almost unable to speak for wonder. The soft breezes caressed her cheeks within her bonnet, and even as she watched, a wading bird some ten feet away lifted its head from the water with a shell its beak.
“What kind of bird is that?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“It is a black tailed godwit,” Georgiana said. “They have strong beaks and can burrow into the sand for worms and mollusks to eat.”
“Look over there!” Elizabeth cried out, pointing at a medium sized brown bird with very red legs standing near the edge of the rippling waves.
“That is a redshank,” Georgiana declared. “They wade in search of little fish, but they also forage on land for insects, spiders, and tadpoles. Is he or she not beautiful?”
“Do the males and females look the same, then?” Elizabeth asked.
“The females are supposed to have slightly lighter upper parts,” her young friend said, “but I can never quite be certain. Peafowl are far easier to tell apart as the peacocks are so very different from peahens.”
“Look at those cliffs!” Anne said, waving an excited arm toward the city of Ramsgate. “I had no idea they were so tall, nor so striking!”
“They are marvelous,” Darcy concurred, squinting towards the white cliffs which flanked the main harbor of the town. “I have heard that Dover also has incredible cliffs.”
“The white cliffs of Dover are far taller, actually,” Richard commented. “They are a full three hundred and fifty feet high and can be seen from miles out at sea – on a clear day, anyway.”
“Georgiana, whatever are you doing?” Anne asked in astonishment.
Her young cousin, who had seated herself on a convenient rock, looked up in surprise and said, “I am taking off my shoes and stockings. I always wade in the waters here; it is quite private, you know. Will you not join me?”
“Oh, I could not!” Anne cried out, turning startled eyes on Elizabeth, who blushed rosy pink.
“It is entirely reasonable for you to do so, Georgiana,” Darcy said carefully, “since you are with family and a female friend. It is not the same for the other ladies.”
“Is it not?” Georgiana asked in a disappointed tone. “That truly is unfortunate, as the water is delightful. It would be … inappropriate?”
“Very inappropriate,” Elizabeth said firmly, though she bestowed a warm smile on her friend.
“I did, however, wear mitts today and will enjoy dipping my fingers in the pools and the rippling waves that wash up on the beach. I assure you that Miss de Bourgh and I will enjoy ourselves very much without wading. This place is as breathtaking as you said it would be.”
“Indeed it is,” Anne said and was aware of a strange twinge of envy at the sight of her young cousin rising to her feet, lifting up her skirts, and walking into the shallows.
Her whole life, she had been wrapped in lambs’ wool, sometimes literally.
Her mother had never permitted Anne to get dirty, or wet, or tanned.
Here, surrounded by the cries of unknown birds and the rustling of the grasses and trees, she felt a sudden, deep, heartrending desire for freedom from the limitations of her life.
“If you look carefully, you may find some sea shells!” Georgiana suggested, beginning to wade north along the shore.
“There are also crabs, so watch your toes, Georgiana,” Darcy said in amusement, though his gaze was on Elizabeth.
She smiled happily at him and wandered closer to say, “This really is an incredible place, Mr. Darcy, do you not think? It is peaceful, but also so full of life. I adore it.”
“I am glad that you do,” Darcy murmured, his eyes fixed on the beautiful face of the woman he loved. “I wonder if you would enjoy looking at the tidal pools. There are often small fish and snails within.”
“Oh, that does sound marvelous!” Elizabeth said, looking around eagerly. “What is a tidal pool, exactly?”
“It is a pool which changes depth depending on the tide,” Georgiana explained and pointed one arm toward the north.
“There is a tidal pool in amongst those rocks right there; I remember it from our trip last summer! Brother, you should take Elizabeth’s arm so she does not trip. The ground is a little rough.”
Darcy chuckled at this minatory order and turned to Elizabeth. “Shall we investigate the tidal pool?”
“I would enjoy that very much,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to take her companion’s arm.
Under the gentleman’s coat sleeve, she felt powerful muscle and sinew, and suddenly felt herself strangely shy in such close proximity to this man whom she admired more every day.
“Miss de Bourgh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, would you care to join us?”
Anne cast a warning look at the colonel and said, “I think I will walk along the shore a bit. Perhaps I will see additional birds or other wildlife.”
“Perhaps you will,” Richard said with quick understanding. “I confess that I am more interested in relaxing than walking, so will find a convenient mossy spot to rest. You may not know this, Cousin, but military men are notorious for napping at every opportunity.”
Anne chuckled and began walking northward along the shore.
/
Ten minutes later, Anne de Bourgh looked back along the shoreline with contentment.
Darcy and Georgiana were some fifty yards behind her now, and her younger cousin was up to her knees in the ocean waters.
Beyond them, Anne could just see the recumbent form of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had found a comfortable mossy place to recline.
They were all of them dressed rather simply today, and Anne marveled again at how comfortable, how relaxed, how freeing it was to be out in nature with patient, generous, charming friends and family.
She felt comfortable, safe, and accepted. She never wanted to go back to Rosings, though it was her home of birth. She wanted to be where she was not forced to wear elaborate clothing, where she could be herself…
She sighed and then flashed a smile at Elizabeth Bennet, who, after speaking with Darcy for several minutes, had decided to follow Anne northwards along the shore.
Anne had long admired Miss Bennet for her vigor and her energy, not to mention her well-bred determination to never bow to the dictates of the autocratic Lady Catherine.
Anne heaved a satisfied sigh. She had known for many years that she and Darcy were not a good match, in spite of Lady Catherine’s insistence that the heir of Pemberley and the heiress of Rosings were destined for one another.
Anne was thankful that her cousin had found a far more compatible woman as a potential bride.
Anne turned toward the water and took a deep breath to fill her mouth with moist, gently salted air. She had not felt so well in many a month. Indeed, she generally felt sickly at Rosings in the summer, though she knew not why. Perhaps she could convince Lady Catherine to take a trip here next…
In a sudden, terrifying instant, a hand clapped itself over her mouth, even as an arm grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the sand. Anne froze in confusion and horror, too bewildered to so much as think.
/
In later years, Elizabeth was quite certain that an angel from heaven above had warned her of Anne’s predicament.
She had enjoyed her time with Darcy as they studied small creatures in the tidal pool and then, when that gentleman had gone to check on Georgiana, she had started wandering down the shore toward Ramsgate in search of beautiful shells.
She had been walking with her eyes down on the sand, when something prompted her to lift her head, just in time to see a sturdy male form drag Anne de Bourgh into a clump of bushes some ten feet from the water’s edge.
“Stop!” Elizabeth screamed at the top of her voice. “Help! Stop! Miss de Bourgh! Struggle! Fight!! Help!!”
Wickham, who had been feeling pleased with his efficient capture of Georgiana, felt a surge of flummoxed horror at these words, even as the lady in his arms began to thrash around wildly.
Henrietta Younge, who had rushed to his side with a scarf in order to gag their captive, took one horrified look at the woman in Wickham’s arms and cringed.
“George, you fool! That is not Georgiana!”
Wickham cursed and turned his captive sideways, only to have his eyes flare wide. “Anne de Bourgh! She is also an unmarried heiress, Henrietta. Quick, gag her, and we will…”
“There is no time!” his accomplice yelped, though she rushed forward to force the scarf into Anne’s mouth. “Someone is coming…”
“Stop!” Elizabeth Bennet screamed, rushing into the woods and, heedless of the danger, throwing herself upon Wickham. “You villain, let her go! Let her go! Anne, bite down!”
Anne, who had been wriggling madly in Wickham’s harsh grip, obediently chomped viciously on the hand near her mouth, causing Mrs. Younge to scream and reel back in agony.
Wickham fell to the ground with Elizabeth on top of him, thrashing and punching while Anne, out of breath, rolled free.
“Kick him!” Elizabeth wheezed as she fought Wickham’s harsh embrace. The man was panting, his eyes crazed, his teeth pulled back in a furious grimace. Anne, galvanized by the danger to her friend, obediently rolled to her feet, aimed, and kicked the man directly between his legs.
Wickham screamed in anguish and released his hold on Elizabeth just as Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam tore through the brush, their faces twisted with fear. Mrs. Younge, recognizing that all was lost, dropped her bag, took to her heels and fled toward her horse and potential escape.