Into the Woods
Anthony came through the garden door at a dead run. Lady Catherine heard him before she saw him, his voice carrying through the hall with a clarity that brooked no mistaking. She was already moving when he appeared in the drawing room doorway, breathless and entirely certain.
“Dragon,” he announced. “Real one. Miss Bennet said to find you.”
“Where?” Lady Catherine asked.
“By the yew hedge.”
“Who?”
Anthony looked surprised by the question. “Mr Wickham.”
Darcy and Richard were already on their feet.
“He is rude,” Anthony added gravely. “Miss Bennet called him Mr Wickham and he would not let Nurse come home.”
Richard was moving towards the door before Anthony had finished speaking. Darcy was beside him.
“Take the upper path,” Lady Catherine said. “It is shorter.”
Neither man answered. They were gone before the words had quite left her mouth.
Lady Catherine crossed to the writing table and opened the right-hand drawer. Georgiana watched her remove Sir Lewis’s pistol and check the priming with practised care.
“Anthony, where are Lewis and Nurse?”
“With Miss Bennet. Mr Wickham made them stay.”
Georgiana rose so quickly that her chair struck the carpet behind her. “George is here?”
Anthony nodded. “He is rude.”
Lady Catherine pulled the bell. “Mrs Mercer will remain with Anthony. You will come with me.”
Georgiana glanced at the pistol. “You believe he means to hurt her.”
“I believe Miss Bennet sent a four-year-old running through my gardens to find me. I do not require further evidence that something is wrong.”
The door opened and Mrs Mercer entered, followed by a footman who had evidently heard the commotion in the hall.
“Remain with Master Anthony,” Lady Catherine ordered. “Send two footmen to the nursery and another to the front entrance. No one is to be admitted to the house without my permission.”
“Yes, your ladyship.”
Anthony had not moved from the doorway. Lady Catherine stopped before him and laid one hand upon his head.
“You did precisely as you were told.”
“Yes, Grandmama.”
“And now you will remain with Mrs Mercer until I return.”
He glanced towards the garden doors through which Darcy and Richard had disappeared. “Will you bring Miss Bennet home?”
“Yes.”
That satisfied him. He crossed to Mrs Mercer and took her hand without argument.
Lady Catherine turned to Georgiana. “Stay behind me.”
Georgiana’s face had gone pale, but her voice remained steady. “I shall.”
They went out through the garden door together. Beyond the terrace, Richard and Darcy were already running towards the upper path. Lady Catherine took up her walking stick from beside the door before following them into the gardens, Sir Lewis’s pistol concealed amongst the folds of her gown.
From somewhere beyond the yew hedge came the sound of a child crying.
Nurse was crouched against the low wall with Lewis in her arms when Lady Catherine came around the hedge. She rose at once.
“He took her towards the south wood,” Nurse said. Her voice was steady. Her face was not. “He had a pistol. She told me to stay with Lewis.”
Lewis had stopped crying. He watched Lady Catherine with round, exhausted eyes, his face still wet.
“Stay with Nurse,” Lady Catherine told Georgiana.
“No,” Georgiana said quietly. “I will not.”
Lady Catherine turned towards the south path, and Georgiana went with her.
Beyond the yew hedge, the path narrowed beneath the trees. The ground was soft from recent rain, and the footprints were clear enough: two sets, one larger than the other, the smaller uneven and dragged.
Richard’s voice came from ahead, then Darcy’s, and then nothing.
Lady Catherine quickened her pace, and Georgiana kept beside her. At the bend in the path Richard stood with one arm extended to prevent Darcy from going farther. Wickham had Elizabeth against him several yards beyond, the pistol held beneath her ribs.
Darcy’s face had gone colourless.
“Let her go,” Richard said.
Wickham smiled. “Colonel. How fortunate. I had begun to fear Rosings had become entirely inhospitable.”
His gaze moved beyond them and found Georgiana. For the first time, his composure altered.
“Georgiana.”
She stopped beside Lady Catherine. “George.”
The pistol shifted slightly against Elizabeth’s gown. Darcy moved, but Richard caught his arm.
“No.”
Wickham’s smile returned. “So Europe has lost its charm.”
“Release her,” Darcy said.
“You look well,” Wickham replied. “For a man who has been in Europe.”
“Release her.”
“I think not. Not yet.” His grip on Elizabeth did not shift. “We have a great deal to discuss. The accounts, for instance, and certain papers that appear to have gone missing from Pemberley.”
Georgiana’s breath caught. Wickham heard it.
“Yes,” he said, turning his attention to his wife. “I noticed. You have become considerably more industrious than I had supposed. I should like them returned.”
“They are in London,” Georgiana said. “With Edward Fitzwilliam.”
“I see.”
“Then we have a difficulty,” Wickham said pleasantly.
Elizabeth met Darcy’s eyes and shifted her gaze slightly to his left. He did not follow it, keeping his attention on her as Lady Catherine came around the bend in the path.
She carried her walking stick in one hand. Her gaze passed from Elizabeth to the pistol beneath her ribs and finally to George Wickham.
“Mr Wickham,” she said. “You have been expected for some time.”
“Lady Catherine. I confess I had hoped we might become better acquainted under happier circumstances.”
“I had hoped never to become acquainted with you at all.”
“How devastating.”
“No,” Lady Catherine said. “Merely disappointing.”
Wickham’s attention shifted towards Georgiana. “You have chosen formidable company, my dear.”
“I did not choose them. They are my family.”
“Of course.” He glanced at Darcy. “A family newly reunited, it would seem.”
Darcy’s attention remained fixed on the pistol. Lady Catherine stopped beside Richard. Her walking stick rested firmly against the ground, while her other hand remained concealed in the skirts of her gown.
“You have come a considerable distance to recover papers you claim are of no importance,” she said.
“I made no such claim.”
“No? Then perhaps you will explain their importance.”
“My wife has removed private correspondence from Pemberley without permission.”
“Pemberley is my home,” Georgiana said.
“It is your brother’s estate.”
“And you have spent five years treating it as your own.”
His smile narrowed. “We may discuss domestic grievances later.”
“They are not domestic grievances.”
Georgiana stepped forward. Lady Catherine’s walking stick moved across the path, stopping her without drawing Wickham’s attention from Elizabeth.
“The letter from Manchester,” Georgiana said. “The instructions concerning Papa’s medicine. His notes whenever he began to recover.”
Wickham’s grip upon Elizabeth tightened. “You have misunderstood what you found.”
“Then explain it.”
“I have no intention of discussing your father’s illness in a wood while your brother attempts to have me arrested.”
“Edward will understand it.”
“Mr Fitzwilliam has seen nothing.”
“One of Richard’s men left Rosings as soon as the copies were made,” Georgiana said. “He is carrying copies of every paper I brought with me.”
Wickham’s gaze moved to Richard. “Then perhaps the colonel’s man should be recalled.”
“He is already several hours upon the road,” Richard said.
“That is unfortunate.”
“For you,” Lady Catherine replied.
The pistol pressed more firmly against Elizabeth’s side. Darcy’s hands closed at his sides, but he remained where he was.
“You do not know what those papers mean,” Wickham said.
“No,” Georgiana replied. “That is why they have gone to Edward.”
“And when he tells you that you have built murder from an apothecary’s ordinary correspondence?”
“Then I shall have been wrong.”
“You would destroy your husband upon the possibility?”
Georgiana’s face changed very little. “You tried to kill my brother.”
Wickham gave a quiet laugh. “Fitzwilliam has always possessed an active imagination.”
“The curricle wheel,” Darcy said. “The bridge. Caesar drugged and the saddle tampered with. The fire at Netherfield.”
“A catalogue of misfortune is not evidence.”
“No,” Richard said. “The men you paid are evidence.”
For the first time, Wickham looked directly at him.
“Finch’s accounts are evidence,” Richard continued. “The payments through Cambridge are evidence. The affidavits are evidence. Edward has enough to petition for the removal of your guardianship without anything Georgiana discovered.”
“You appear very certain.”
“I am.”
“And yet you have not arrested me.”
“You are holding a pistol against an unarmed woman.”
Wickham glanced down at Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet has placed herself in an unfortunate position.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “You placed me here.”
“You might have gone quietly into the house.”
“And led you to Mr Darcy?”
Wickham smiled. “So you admit you knew he was here.”
“I admit that I had no intention of helping you find him.”
“You have become remarkably loyal.”
“I have become remarkably well informed.”
His eyes searched hers. “Do you imagine he can protect you?”
Elizabeth glanced towards Darcy, still held in place by Richard’s arm.
“I do not require him to prove it.”
Wickham followed her gaze. Understanding came slowly, and with it something colder than anger.
“I see.”
Darcy’s voice was quiet. “Release her.”
“And what precisely has he promised you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
His smile returned, but there was little warmth left in it. “Then perhaps we shall discover how much nothing is worth.”
Georgiana faced him steadily. “What do you want?”
“At last, a useful question. The colonel will send riders after his man. The papers will be returned to Pemberley, and my ward will accompany me when I leave Rosings.”
“And Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked.
“She will be released once I am safely beyond the park.”
“I will go,” Darcy said.
“No,” Elizabeth said at once.
His attention moved to her. “Elizabeth.”
“You will not save me by giving him two prisoners.”
Wickham laughed quietly. “How very practical. I begin to understand the attraction.”
“Release her first,” Darcy said.
“You cannot imagine I would be so foolish.”
“I do not need to imagine it,” Elizabeth replied. “You have come into Rosings alone, threatened two children and taken a woman at pistol point. Your judgement is already sufficiently established.”
The smile vanished from Wickham’s face for an instant before returning.
“You have always possessed a remarkable talent for speaking when silence would serve you better.”
“And you have always mistaken silence for agreement.”
His grip tightened around her. Darcy shifted, but Richard’s arm remained firmly across his path.
“There will be no riders,” Richard said.
Wickham turned to him. “No?”
“My man left as soon as the copies were made, with orders to ride directly to Edward. He will not turn aside for anyone who cannot give the countersign.”
“Then you will provide it.”
“I will not.”
The pistol pressed harder into Elizabeth’s side. She drew a careful breath and kept her eyes on Darcy.
“You appear to have misunderstood your position, Colonel.”
“No. I understand it exactly. You have one pistol, one hostage and no means of leaving Rosings without passing through grounds controlled by Lady Catherine’s servants.”
“Servants can be remarkably obedient when a lady’s life depends upon it.”
“Mine does not,” Elizabeth said.
Wickham glanced down at her. “I assure you, Miss Bennet, it does.”
“You may threaten me. That does not mean I shall help you.”
Something colder entered his expression. He began moving backwards, drawing her with him towards the deeper path.
“Darcy, you will follow us. The others will remain where they are.”
Darcy stepped forward.
“Do not,” Elizabeth said.
He stopped.
Wickham smiled again. “How obedient he has become.”
Elizabeth held Darcy’s gaze. “He knows I would rather face you alone than see him place himself in your hands.”
“You are not alone.”
“No,” she said. “I am not.”
Wickham looked towards the people gathered upon the path. Georgiana stood beside Lady Catherine, pale but steady. Richard had not moved. Darcy’s attention remained fixed upon Elizabeth, every line of his body straining towards her.
Lady Catherine rested one hand upon the head of her walking stick.
“You have made your demands,” she said. “They have been refused.”
“I do not recall asking.”
“No. That has been one of your more persistent failings.”
Wickham’s eyes narrowed. “You appear remarkably composed for a woman whose household is about to witness a tragedy.”
“I have witnessed tragedies before, Mr Wickham. They have generally been caused by men who mistook cruelty for power.”
His hold upon Elizabeth shifted. The movement was small, but the pistol lifted slightly from her ribs. Lady Catherine’s hand moved beneath the folds of her gown. Elizabeth saw it and kept her face still.
A voice carried along the path behind them.
“Miss Bennet!”
Lady Catherine turned sharply. Anthony came around the bend at a run, his discarded stick recovered and held firmly in one hand. Mrs Mercer followed some distance behind him, calling his name.
“Anthony,” Lady Catherine said. “Stop.”
He did not. It was the first time Elizabeth had ever known him to disobey his grandmother.
“I came to help,” he announced as he ran towards her. “Miss Bennet is still with the dragon.”
Wickham turned towards the sound.
The pistol moved with him.