Chapter 7
Private Parlor
Pelican Tea Emporium
The parlor was small but tidy and pleasantly warm thanks to a well-tended fire. Elizabeth sat on a padded chair with her injured foot on a small stool, while her aunt rested on a wooden chair to her right, and Mr. Gardiner stood behind his wife.
On the other side of the room, Miss Darcy was curled up on a small couch, wrapped in a blanket. The girl was pale but unhurt, which was a great relief.
Elizabeth tensed as Doctor Moore, who had been fetched by the mistress of the emporium, pushed gently on one spot of her swollen ankle.
“Is there pain here, Miss Bennet?” the doctor asked.
Elizabeth gasped and nodded. “Yes, yes, that hurts.”
“And what happened at the precise moment you felt pain in your ankle?”
“Wickham struck me, and I staggered backward and fell off the curb, which twisted my ankle dreadfully.”
Doctor Moore leaned back and said, “It may merely be a sprain, or you might have broken something, but at least the ankle and foot are in their correct positions.”
“Well, that is a mercy,” Mrs. Gardiner said, turning an encouraging look on her niece.
Elizabeth nodded and said, “Yes, a great mercy. Will you wrap it, or…?”
She broke off as the door flew open, and a tall, dark-haired, very handsome gentleman burst into the room.
“Georgiana!” the man cried out as he moved toward her.
Miss Darcy was on her feet in a moment, and she tottered into the man’s arms. “Fitzwilliam, oh, Fitzwilliam! It was terrible!”
The man pulled her into a tight embrace, his expression anxious, while his eyes scanned the room. His gaze stopped at the sight of Elizabeth, proceeded onto the Gardiners, and shifted back to Doctor Moore, who was now on his feet.
“Mr. Darcy,” the doctor said with a respectful bow.
“Mr. Moore,” Mr. Darcy replied. “What happened here? Is my sister injured?”
Moore looked at Elizabeth and said, “Miss Darcy has experienced a great shock, but she has not been physically harmed. As for what transpired, I only arrived a few minutes ago and am not entirely certain of the details of what happened today.”
“I will tell you, Brother,” Miss Darcy said, pulling the gentleman over to the couch, whereupon they both sat down. “I was having tea here with Mrs. Younge, and the door opened, and George Wickham came in.”
Mr. Darcy’s solemn expression gave way to open anger.
“Wickham!” he hissed. “Wickham is here in Lambton?”
Miss Darcy’s eyes widened, and she said, “Are you saying...? I thought you and he were friends!”
The gentleman’s face softened, and he reached out to take his sister’s hands in his own.
“We are enemies more than friends, my dear, but I did not wish to burden you and did not tell you. It seems that was not a mistake. But you said Wickham came in and spoke to you. I am displeased about that, but surely Mrs. Younge’s presence meant that he could not accost you in an indelicate manner? ”
Georgiana Darcy turned a beseeching look on Elizabeth, who said, “Sir, Mrs. Younge was in league with Mr. Wickham in the attempt to abduct Miss Darcy.”
Darcy flushed dark red. “What?!”
“Please allow me to explain,” she said, and keeping her tone even, described the events of the previous hours. When she had completed her recital, she said, “I believe that Mrs. Younge is being held somewhere else in this building, but Mr. Wickham and Mr. Zimmer escaped.”
Darcy gulped, turned to his sister, and clasped him in her arms again.
“Georgiana,” he murmured. “Oh, my dear sister.”
Miss Darcy accepted the embrace and said, “I am quite all right, Brother, thanks to Miss Bennet’s courageous act, along with the actions of two passers-by.”
Darcy shook himself a trifle, released his sister, and stood up. “I do apologize, Miss, Madame, Sir, for not being introduced properly. I am Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, and Georgiana’s older brother.”
“And I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said.
Her inclination was to stand up and curtsey, but her ankle hurt too much for such a thing.
The Gardiners did rise, and Elizabeth gestured towards them and said, “May I please introduce my uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of Cheapside in London.”
Darcy bowed, and the Gardiners bowed and curtsied appropriately, and Mrs. Gardiner said, “It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Darcy. I grew up here in Lambton, but I have been gone from the area for fifteen years. I had the honor of touring Pemberley when I was but a girl. It is truly a beautiful estate.”
Darcy managed a smile and said, “Thank you for your kind words, Madame.”
He then turned to Elizabeth and said, “I must thank you most profoundly for your actions. I only hope you are not too gravely injured.”
Elizabeth lifted her hand to her cheek. It throbbed from Wickham’s harsh strike, but the doctor had assured her that while she would have a bruise, nothing was broken on her face.
“I was not greatly harmed,” she said. “I have either a sprained or broken ankle and will have a mighty bruise on my face where I was struck, but it could have been a great deal worse.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched, and Miss Darcy said impulsively, “Miss Bennet, would you and your relations be willing to stay at Pemberley? I do not think that the inn has any bedchambers on the main floor, and you should not attempt to climb stairs.”
Elizabeth was surprised and turned a questioning look at the Gardiners.
“Oh,” Mr. Gardiner said, “we would not wish to intrude in such a way. Perhaps a parlor can be set aside…”
“Nonsense,” Darcy said immediately. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, would you please do me the honor of staying at Pemberley for the rest of your visit? The inn here in Lambton is charming, but my sister is right, it would be difficult to manage after your injury, Miss Bennet. You were harmed because you saved my sister from a fate worse than death, and I must insist that you stay with us at Pemberley so that we might repay your great kindness in some small way.”
Elizabeth smiled gratefully. She was tired and in pain, and yes, she would be more comfortable in a quiet mansion than in a noisy inn.
“If my aunt and uncle are in agreement,” she said, looking at her relations, “I would be pleased to stay at Pemberley.”
“Indeed, we are honored,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a nod.
“Very good, then,” Darcy replied, a smile lighting up his handsome features. “I will send a message to Pemberley requesting a carriage. It will take perhaps an hour to arrive here. I hope you do not mind waiting that long?”
“That is no problem, but we will need our items from the inn,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Perhaps I should send a message to have them packed?”
“Please do,” Darcy replied, “and we can halt there to have them loaded into the carriage.” He turned to his sister and said, “Georgiana, I would like to speak to Mrs. Younge and determine what is to be done with her. Do you wish to come with me?”
The girl shook her head. “No. Truly, I never want to see her again!”
“I understand entirely, dear one. I will be back shortly.”
***
Cellar
The Pelican Tea Emporium
The cellar of the tea emporium smelt musty, the air chill with damp.
It was bare and cheerless, designed for storage as opposed to human habitation.
A stack of wood filled a quarter of the floor, doubtless home to a thousand spiders and a few rats.
In the opposite corner, the great black coal bin crouched like some menacing beast of prey.
Dorothea Younge shivered and looked up at the one outer wall.
Two small window slits had been cut to allow for ventilation; there could be no escape that way, but the motes of sunlight filtering in were the only things in the entire cellar that were not depressing.
The candles set on a rude table near the door threw only feeble pools of light that wavered and flickered in the draft.
A single wooden chair had been hastily brought down for the prisoner, and Mrs. Younge huddled on it now.
Her eyes were wary as they rested on the two other figures in the room; the rough, burly farmer who had first intervened, and the gentleman who had been right behind him.
They stood with no apparent sign of discomfort or impatience, blocking any route from the chair to the door opposite to it.
Suddenly, the door opened, and her heart leapt in sickening dread. Darcy's tall, imposing figure stepped through it, and his eyes found hers even as he pulled it shut behind himself. Mrs. Younge felt herself blanching, even as her spine went stiff and her hands curled involuntarily into fists.
***
Darcy glared at the woman who had conspired to kidnap his sister, then took a deep breath and released it slowly. He turned first toward the well-dressed gentleman, whom he recognized as Mr. Gantry, master of a small estate some ten miles from Pemberley’s western border.
“Mr. Gantry,” he said, holding out his hand. “Thank you so much for assisting Georgiana during this dreadful affair.”
Gantry shook his hand and said, “It was my pleasure, of course, and to be truthful, Mr. Blair here deserves more of your thanks. He forced Mrs. Younge to release your sister.”
Darcy turned and held out his hand toward the other man.
“Mr. Blair,” he said sincerely. “Thank you.”
The farmer bobbed his head, shook his hand heartily, and said, “T’was my pleasure, of course, sir.
Indeed, I am not the one who deserves most of your thanks, but the young lassie that attacked Wickham.
I have never seen such a virago! She made quite the fuss, which is the only reason we knew there was something afoot.
I only hope that she was not badly hurt by the rogue? ”
“She has an injured foot and a bruised face but will recover,” Darcy said.
He obviously owed Miss Bennet a great deal.
It took courage and self-possession to attack a taller and stronger man, and the lady had also been willing to make a scene, which was remarkable in a culture that discouraged such things in a woman.
He turned toward Mrs. Younge and said, “Madame, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman must control his temper. You should be thankful, because at this moment, I want nothing more than to pull you out of that chair and choke the life out of you.”
Mrs. Younge gasped and, in the wavering light of the candles, turned even paler.
“You would not … that would be murder … I meant no harm,” she stuttered.
“No harm?” Darcy hissed. “No harm? You attempted to abduct my sister and force her into marriage with a scoundrel.”
She lurched to her feet, her eyes suddenly narrow with anger. “A scoundrel? He is one hundred times the man you are, Mr. Darcy! He has always been fond of Georgiana and would have made her a good husband…”
Darcy’s right hand twitched involuntarily, and she fell silent, gulping hard.
“You are his lover,” he said flatly.
Now she flushed and glanced at the onlookers. “Mr. Darcy, how dare you?”
“How dare I?” he repeated. “You conspired with a villain to abduct my sister, and only by the grace of God and the bravery of noble bystanders was she saved. Moreover, I know Wickham well; you are far from the first woman to give up both virtue and sense for the chance to lie in his arms and listen to his lying tongue.”
She slapped him hard across the face, her skin suddenly flushed with rage.
“You are to blame for the entire situation,” she snarled. “You could never bear that your father liked Wickham more, and you persecuted him and refused him the church living at Kympton, and…”
“And at his request, I paid him three thousand pounds to give up the living,” Darcy interrupted.
“No doubt he lied about that. He lies about everything. But that is no longer your concern. The question now is whether I have you sent to Australia or have you hanged. I have not quite decided yet, though that slap encourages me towards execution.”
She collapsed more than sat onto the chair, and her hands lifted to wrap around her own throat.
“Hanging? You would not … you…”
“Forcible abduction is a hanging matter,” he said coolly. “I will need to think more of it, but for now, I will arrange to have you locked up.”
“No, no! Please, Mr. Darcy, do not…”
“You gave up any hope of mercy when you betrayed not only me, but my sister,” he said. He turned toward the onlookers and said, “I know I have kept you for far too long today. Please know that if I can ever serve you in any way, I wish to. You have done my family a great favor.”
The men exchanged glances, any differences in class overcome by their mutual view on the matter.
“It was our honor, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Gantry declared. “If you would like, I would be happy to explain the situation to Lord Throckmorton, the justice of the peace, so that you can take your sister home. He is in the habit of keeping prisoners in his attics on occasion.”
Darcy hesitated and then said, “That would be kind of you. I daresay he will need to talk to me and Georgiana about what took place, but you are correct that I would like her home.”
“And what do you wish to do about that rogue Wickham?” the farmer demanded. “He ran off but may well be in the area. Surely it would be best if he were hunted down.”
Darcy blinked. He had been so distressed by Georgiana’s near miss and Mrs. Younge’s treachery that he had spared only a few furious thoughts towards his father’s godson.
“You are right, of course,” he said, running a hand over his forehead. “I ought to have thought of that. Assuming he does not have a horse, he may well still be nearby. Moreover … do you know anything about this Zimmer who was driving the carriage?”
Gantry shook his head, but Mr. Blair grimaced and said, “I know him well. He is a distant cousin of one of Lord Throckmorton’s tenant farmer’s, but he has a poor reputation. I am not surprised that he threw his lot in with a pair of rogues.”
Mrs. Younge huffed indignantly, but Darcy merely said, “Do you know where he lives?”
“Yes, though if he has any sense, he will leave Lambton quickly. But I can direct the magistrate to his latest abode.”
Darcy bowed and said, “Thank you both very much.”