Chapter Fifteen #2
Darcy added, “I doubt he is there now. He disappeared as we ran away. He was bending over Mrs. Younge when I looked back, and then he was gone. He must know I would make the connection.” He reasoned, “It is too late to enter that section of London safely this evening. I agree, we must learn what we can of Wickham. We will pay a visit to Mrs. Younge’s address tomorrow. ”
A small voice came from behind them. “William, when may we return to Pemberley?”
Darcy sought his new wife’s counsel. “When might you wish to leave London, Elizabeth?”
“We have commitments to both our families for the next few days. Moreover, if you whisk me away to the country so soon, it might appear you wish to hide me from the ton. I want no rumors to follow our union.”
“I agree. If we withdraw after two days of marriage, gossip will run unchecked.”
Elizabeth noted Georgiana’s dissatisfaction with her brother’s response. “Possibly our sister could accompany his lordship to Matlock. We could retrieve her on our way to Pemberley.”
“Could I?” Georgiana begged. “I do not wish to be in London if Wickham is about.”
“I will arrange it,” Darcy assured her. “Now, we will go down to supper, and then we will return here to finish our discussion. I will ask Mrs. Annesley to join us this evening. The two of you will stay here tonight.”
“Thank you, William.”
“In my note to Mrs. Annesley, I will ask the good lady to pack your belongings and hers. His lordship plans to depart tomorrow. You will be safe with the colonel at Matlock.”
“And you and Elizabeth will be safe together?”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. “We will. Most definitely, we will.”
She opened the door to a seedy-looking house on a nearly deserted street.
Darcy circled towards the back of the building as she pushed the door wide.
The sound of the frame banging against the wall reverberated through the empty entrance hall.
They had come to find Wickham. Clutching the iron crucifix in her fist, Elizabeth moved cautiously.
She peered into each room, surprised by the tasteful décor.
The dining room held fine china on a table set for twelve.
Elizabeth wondered how anyone who might stay in this neighborhood would react to such elegance.
Such a disparity in economic situations must make for fine supper conversation.
If Mrs. Younge could afford such furnishings, why would she take up residence in the recesses of filth?
Wickham. When Elizabeth considered what Wickham’s deviance had done to the woman, the situation made more sense.
Finding no one on the lower level, she made her way slowly up the staircase. Odd that no one, not even a servant, has appeared. Her eyes searched the shadows for any movement. Where is Darcy? she thought. They had agreed he would enter through the servants’ door.
Elizabeth paused on a landing, debating whether to proceed without him.
She looked anxiously to the way she had come, expecting him to turn the corner at any second, and then an odd shiver of dread shot up her spine.
She turned to see Wickham at the top of the stairs.
His steel grey eyes looked straight to her soul.
“Mrs. Darcy.” His voice slithered over her skin, and Elizabeth instinctively reversed her climb.
“Mr. Wickham,” she answered, taking note how he kept pace with her retreat. It was obviously one of his favorite cat-and-mouse games. For each of her steps, he took a matching one, keeping the distance between them constant.
Satisfaction crossed his features. His smile increased, and for the first time, Elizabeth noticed his protruding, fanglike teeth.
How is it I never took note of them before?
They were exactly like those in the drawings she had observed.
All her senses on alert, she studied him, anticipating a cobra-like assault.
He teased her by lowering his foot ever so slowly.
“Do not tell me you plan to run away?” he asked smoothly. He narrowed his gaze and edged forward. “You should know by now I prefer my conquests with more spirit. I prefer when they fight for their lives.”
“I will fight you,” Elizabeth declared, “but you will find no satisfaction in the results.”
With Elizabeth’s threat, Wickham took two steps to each of hers, quickly closing the gap as they neared the bottom of the staircase. “Now, that is the Elizabeth Bennet Darcy I have grown to admire!” he declared. “Taking you from Darcy will increase my pleasure immensely.”
At last, she felt her foot touch the floor of the hall.
She turned to the still-open front door.
She heard Wickham’s footsteps quicken behind her, first on the last of the stairs and then in the hallway.
For her, everything moved in slow motion except Wickham’s advance.
She was confident it was his breath she felt on her neck.
Then, to her horror, a gust of wind slammed the door closed just as she reached it.
Frantically calling Darcy’s name, she pounded on the frame, pulling and twisting the knob, but it did not give.
She turned to face the demon at her back. Her right hand continued to turn the knob, but the rest of her prepared for Wickham’s assault.
“Departing so soon, my dear?” he hissed. “And I thought we had an understanding.” He braced his hands against the door, penning her in.