Chapter 1 #2
There was a sickening sound when Wickham’s nose broke, sending blood spraying in all directions.
Most of his teeth were dislodged from his mouth, and the force of the last blow drove him back into the tree behind him.
His arm snapped when he slammed into the tree with his arm in an awkward position.
Wickham, having soiled himself, was lying moaning in a semi-consciousness heap on the forest floor.
Andrew and Will had come over to stand next to Richard, and had he not done such a good job on the blackguard already, they would have happily added their own blows to those Richard had doled out.
Right on cue, the constable and two of his men arrived from Lambton, putting what was left of Wickham in a cart. By morning, his worthless life would be over, one way or the other.
The four men with Perry, who had been toward the rear of the entourage, walked to where Mrs de Bourgh was trussed up and gagged. George pulled her oilskin pouch from his satchel, which caused her eyes to grow wide; there were muffled sounds as she tried to yell.
“Thank you for all of the information about your names and bank accounts. After we receive an order for the release of your funds from a judge, all of the funds and property will be turned over to the family of the maid that you murdered!” Mrs de Bourgh tried to jump up, but before she could stand, two men dragged her toward the old and uncomfortable carriage which would convey her to London.
McLamb and his surviving men, still under heavy guard, were rounded up, clapped in irons, and unceremoniously placed in carts.
As the Lambton gaol could not accommodate them all, they would join Jones in the coal cellar at Pemberley.
Once the men had time to relax and meet with the local magistrate, their fates would be decided.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Branch had not seen a plan executed so flawlessly in his fifteen years in the King’s Army.
He supposed that it helped that the men who opposed them did not seem to be the best or brightest the realm had to offer.
Even with this over, he was not worried about the future.
True, this threat had been eliminated, but the master and his nephew, the Earl, had promised that none of the men who worked as guards and outriders would be let go.
Those who did not receive positions at either of the two estates would be placed at one of the satellite estates or at one of the houses in Town if they so desired.
A high percentage of guards and outriders would be retained in their current positions.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Before he ran afoul of his wife and the party waiting for news, Andrew dispatched a rider to Pemberley to inform Bennet, Ashby, and the rest of the family that everything had gone according to plan and none of them or their men had come close to being injured.
A postscript was added for his little sister, informing her that Wickham was captured, that the sentence would be carried out in the morning, and that the blackguard would never be able to hurt her or anyone else ever again.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
When Douglas handed the note to Bennet, everyone held their collective breaths until they saw a wide smile spread across his face.
“All of our loved ones and their men are safe—not even a scratch on any of them,” he reported above the sounds of relief from all in the room.
“Read the postscript from Andrew to you, Lizzy,” Bennet told her as he handed her the note.
“Good!” she exclaimed, “That is no less than that miscreant deserves.” Seeing the questioning look on her mother’s face, she explained. “Wickham was captured, and he will never be free again.”
“I pray that our brother was able to have his little chat with the blackguard,” Marie enthused.
“We will hear all about it when our conquering heroes return,” Lady Anne teased.
“It is such good news that Will, eh, hm, everyone is safe and uninjured.” As Elizabeth tried to cover her slip of the tongue, she received a lot of knowing looks from members of their party.
Before the note arrived, Anne Ashby did not feel any remorse that her mother would soon be captured if she had not been already and would have to answer for her crimes.
As the woman had never been a mother to her, there was no bond that she mourned the loss of.
She had a wonderful mother and had two loving fathers.
Ian hugged her in tightly to assure himself that his wife was well.
“All is as it should be, Ian. As long as I have you and my family around me, I will never want anything. At least after she is captured, her days of hurting people will be over,” Anne informed her husband as she rested her head on his chest.
“Do you think that this is the last of those that will try and hurt us?” Elizabeth asked Father Bennet as they resumed their chess game, which Bennet could see he had already lost.
“There will always be those in the world driven by greed or envy,” Bennet replied. “That being said, I believe that after these miscreants are dealt with, there will not be more of their ilk trying to harm any members of our families. At least, that is my hope.”
“Mayhap that awful Miss Price will slink back into Town so you can set her down again,” Georgiana said with a smile.
“I heard that her parents would not bring her back to Town. In fact, Aunt Maddie told me that they might be moving to the Americas as her father has suddenly found better opportunities there,” added Jane.
“When will we be in London again?” Elizabeth asked her mother and sister-in-law Marie who were seated together.
“For the little season, I believe, Lizzy. Reggie will be one, and Andrew and I are looking forward to visiting London; it will be more than two years since we have been seen in London,” Marie answered.
“When will the men return?” James asked.
“In a few hours, I hope,” Lady Anne stated.
Her niece had stopped seeing Catherine de Bourgh as her mother, and Anne Darcy no longer considered Catherine as her sister after she so callously murdered the maid at Rosings.
How could she feel anything but disdain for one who planned to murder them all if her husband’s supposition were correct?
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The five family members rode back to Pemberley behind the carts carrying the prisoners.
The carts with the criminals were well guarded by more than double the number of men that were in irons in the carts.
A few had accompanied the constable back to Lambton with the bloody mess that was George Wickham in the bed of the cart.
He was not in any physical shape to make an escape attempt, but that did not mean that their vigilance would relax.
Men were known to do many unexpected or impossible things to escape death.
Mrs de Bourgh was fuming in silence within the uncomfortable carriage in which she had been placed.
Not being able to talk was a heavy punishment for her as there were so many commands that she needed to issue to the driver and the eight men guarding her.
Six were riding, three on either side, one sat in the interior with her, and the last stood in the footman’s position at the vehicle’s rear.
The man sitting and watching her from his position on the forward-facing bench was very thankful that the lady would stay gagged.
He was one of the men that had put the woman’s ill-advised footmen down and had heard the invectives and stream of nonsense that emanated from her mouth.
He shook his head at the antics of the woman, who seemed to be the only one not aware of her impending fate.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
George Wickham could not have imagined more pain than what he was experiencing as the cart bumped along, taking him to his ultimate fate.
He was conscious for the moment, but, thankfully for him, it was not long before he lost consciousness again.
All of the bad choices that he made in his life flashed before his eyes.
It was too late, but he finally saw the folly in believing his mother and following her pronouncements like Gospel.
She was a servant that envied anyone who had more than she did, and she had moulded him into her own likeness.
If only he had woken up to the truth before he pulled the trigger killing his adoptive father.
As he slipped back into blackness, he finally accepted that he had been the author of his own doom.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Jones was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. A few hours before, he had tried to trade information, only to be rebuffed.
When the big footman had come to drop off some bread and water for him, he had played the one card he believed would extract him from this mess. “Afore ya’ leave. I ‘ave information on the one that ‘ired me and sent me ‘ere,” he told the big man. “If I’s allowed to go free, I’s will tell all!”
“We don’ need you!” Biggs spat back. “Right now, your employer an’ all o’ yer men 'ave bin captured. You ‘ave nothin’ that we need!”
Jones hung his head; then he remembered Branch. “What if I tell ya the name o’ the man that ‘elped me?” He was grasping at straws.
“You must be deaf!” Biggs snickered at the surprised man. “When you was captured, you was told that Branch was workin’ for the master of Pemberley the whole time; ‘e never ‘elped you! ‘e was writin’ the notes that were sent, so we know all.”
It was at that point that Jones realised that there was no escaping his fate. The only remaining question was if he would swing or be transported.