CHAPTER 14
Once their course was settled, Elizabeth repeated the plan over in her mind, resolved to know every step of it by heart.
She could not entirely master her nerves, nor feel any real confidence in its success, but Mr. Darcy had been so resolute that they must attempt it that she felt she had no choice but to play her part.
"You will keep one slat, and I the other.
I shall hide mine beneath me, while you lay yours beneath a pillow.
I will call for help, and tell them you have fallen ill with fever.
When the door opens, close it gently behind the man who enters.
Once he comes near enough, I shall strike him before he can cry out.
You must help me, if it becomes necessary.
We shall bind his wrists with your cuffs, and gag him with a length of pillow linen so he cannot call out.
Then you will open the door, judge our best route, and bring me with you.
" Elizabeth hesitated, "But, what if more than one man should come?
What if there proves no way past that door at all? "
Mr. Darcy did not look fazed at the prospect. "We shall not know until we try, and try we must."
Elizabeth liked the scheme no better for the repetition. "There are too many uncertainties, sir. A great deal might go wrong, and either of us might be badly hurt."
"Miss Elizabeth, we must try. This is our best chance, and perhaps our only one. They may not house us together again, and we shall be exactly as we began, prisoners, entirely at Wickham's mercy. He is a cruel man, and we must act, whatever the risk. I beg you, we must try."
What he did not tell her was that Wickham had threatened her life outright, should his relations fail to deliver the forty thousand pounds demanded of them. He believed his family capable of raising such a sum, but he would not stake her safety upon the certainty of it.
He took up one of the wooden slats and slipped it beneath the pillow, drawing the blanket over himself, one arm resting at his side, the other tucked beneath the pillow and its hidden weapon. "I am ready. Are you?"
Trembling despite her best effort, Elizabeth answered, "Yes. I am ready."
"God keep us both." He gave her a steady look and a nod, and she crossed to the door to play her part.
She glanced back once more to see him lying still, eyes closed, before she began to knock. "Hello! Help! Oh, please, someone help!"
Slow, unhurried footsteps approached, "Wot's all this, then?"
"Sir, Mr. Darcy is feverish and has fainted! I fear we must send for a doctor at once!"
"Feverish? Fainted?" The man seemed to turn the words over slowly.
"Yes, sir! He is gravely ill!"
The lock turned, and the door swung open with a groan. A thin guard entered and crossed toward the bed, leaning over Darcy, then turned his head to speak to Elizabeth just as the blow fell.
In her distraction, Elizabeth had forgotten to shut the door behind him.
The slat struck true, and the man cried out sharply in pain.
Darcy's eyes flew from the open doorway to Elizabeth, then to the man now clutching his head upon the floor, and he struck a second time before the fellow could gather himself, silencing his second cry only partway.
The noise carried far enough to draw a second guard down the passage, calling out to his fellow to ask what the matter was.
Darcy sprang to his feet at once, hauling Elizabeth into the corner and drawing the door wide to conceal them both behind it.
Her heart hammered violently, a dreadful certainty settling over her that their scheme had already gone wrong.
The footsteps halted at the threshold, and the man called into the room.
"What's 'appened to ye?" He took two steps further in, scanning the room for his prisoners, and Darcy struck at once, springing from behind the door and catching the man hard across the side of the face. He crumpled, half onto the bed before sliding to the floor.
Elizabeth waited, certain another man must come running at any moment. But none came. Only silence answered them.
Darcy moved swiftly, binding the heavier man's wrists with the thicker leather cuffs and Elizabeth's own smaller ones on the thinner guard, which barely served the purpose but held all the same.
He tore strips from the bedsheets and stuffed them into each man's mouth before searching the thinner guard and finding the key upon him.
Then he seized Elizabeth's hand. "We go now. "
He led her into the passage, drawing the door shut softly and locking their captors within. It was not the plan they had agreed upon, but Elizabeth could not fault his quickness in adapting when circumstances demanded it.
He took her by the wrist and moved as quietly as he could manage, finding the passage's far end a dead wall, their only way out lay through the front door.
Elizabeth, conscious of every rustle of her skirts, tried once to free her wrist to move more silently, but he would not release her.
They crept forward together toward the front of the house, his eyes darting continually for any new danger.
At the door, he eased it open and looked out.
Seeing no one, he drew her carefully through it and out into the open.
With no notion still of where they stood, he judged it wisest to keep clear of any main road, and was glad enough of the forest close at hand, though he knew, too, that the men kept at least one well-trained hound.
They crossed the rocky ground and made for the tree line. Beyond it, the land dropped away sharply; the house, it seemed, had been built upon a ridge, and there was nothing for it but to descend the steep slope as quickly as they dared.
They went down without speaking, Darcy leading, his hand still fast about her wrist. His long stride made for treacherous footing on such ground, and he stumbled twice, catching himself each time.
Elizabeth's shorter steps served her rather better on the descent, though her skirts caught again and again on branch and rock, slowing her badly.
The ground levelled somewhat at last, and both of them breathing hard, Darcy broke into a run.
"Come, Elizabeth, we must not linger!" He shifted his grip from her wrist to her hand, drawing her along.
Her legs, stiff from a week's confinement, found their old strength in the exertion, built up through years of walking, and she kept pace beside him.
The slope steepened once more, too sharp for running, and they slowed to pick their way carefully down, neither speaking, both entirely given over to putting distance between themselves and the house behind them.
Elizabeth felt something near panic rising in her chest, her heart racing, sweat gathering at her brow and throat, and still she pressed onward. She would not stop. She could not. As long as Mr. Darcy pushed forward, so too would she.
Two hours, perhaps three, seemed to pass before he finally slowed to catch his breath.
She stopped beside him, bent double, gasping.
Neither spoke for some moments, their faces flushed with exertion, sweat streaming freely.
They had thought of nothing, for a long while, beyond survival.
As their breathing steadied by degrees, he found himself looking at her properly for the first time since they had begun to run.
His breathing was quick, but he asked, "How do you fare?"
"Well enough, I think.” She took a fortifying breath, “It is fortunate I have always been fond of walking."
He laughed, the first laugh Elizabeth had heard from the man, grasping for breath as he did, doubled slightly at the effort of it after so hard a run, and she found herself laughing with him despite everything, a small, unexpected relief, bright and strange against the fear still coiled tight in her chest, however precarious their situation remained.
Who would have thought the man capable of a smile, she thought, watching it transform his whole face, so unlike the grim, guarded countenance she had first known at the assembly.
He lifted his head suddenly, stilling. "Do you hear water?"
She fell quiet at once, listening past her own ragged breathing. "It is faint, but yes, I believe I hear a stream."
He nodded, already pointing in the direction he judged the sound to come from, his whole bearing sharpening back into purpose. "Are you ready to go on?"
"Yes." She nodded, drawing herself upright again, already falling into step behind his direction before he had finished asking.
"Onward, then, madam." He set off toward the sound without further word, his stride lengthening once more into the same brisk, driving pace he had kept since their flight began.
She fell in behind him, the brief laughter already fading into something more urgent, and followed him through the trees toward the promise of running water.