Georgiana screamed again and Elizabeth cried out as the two men collided. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if Wickham had thrust the sword into Darcy’s body. Then relief washed over her as she saw that Darcy had caught the highwayman’s sword hand just in time and was holding it in a vice-like grip, keeping the sharp tip of the blade away from his own throat.
They struggled for a moment, their breathing harsh, their muscles bulging, then Wickham gave a cry of pain as Darcy suddenly twisted the latter’s hand and forced it away. The sword fell from Wickham’s nerveless fingers and clattered to the ground. He brought his other hand up, trying to wrap his fingers around Darcy’s neck, and grunted with effort as Darcy repelled him. They strained against each other, each trying to overpower the other.
Darcy was the taller and stronger of the two, but Wickham was the more vicious. He fought, not as a gentleman, but as one willing to take every unfair advantage possible. He pulled his fist back and punched Darcy’s shoulder wound, causing the latter to draw a sharp breath of pain and release his grip. Wickham gave that ugly laugh again and brought both hands up to Darcy’s throat. Elizabeth gave a cry of fear, but Darcy pivoted, throwing his weight to the left and causing Wickham to lose his balance and stumble sideways.
The highwayman found himself suddenly at the edge of the precipice and his expression changed from one of gloating to sudden terror.
“Ahh…!” he cried, flinging out his arms to try and save himself.
But it was too late. With a shower of pebbles, Wickham pitched over the side of the ledge and plummeted into the valley below.
“Nooo!” screamed Georgiana, flinging herself after him.
Elizabeth caught the girl before she could reach the edge and pulled her back to safety. Darcy hurried over to help his sister to her feet. Georgiana shrank away from him and Elizabeth saw a look of pain cross Darcy’s face. But he said nothing and stood helplessly next to them as Elizabeth attempted to soothe the distraught girl. It was some time before Georgiana’s hysterical crying subsided, and she lapsed into a stunned silence.
“Your wound…” said Elizabeth to Darcy, eying his arm worriedly. The cut was still bleeding profusely and she could see that he was in a great deal of pain.
“It will heal,” said Darcy impatiently, his attention still on his sister.
Nevertheless, Elizabeth prevailed upon him to tear off a portion of his shirt sleeve and allow her to use it as a bandage to bind the wound. Then, together, they supported Georgiana and helped the girl back down the hillside to the rocky slab which concealed the entrance to the passageway.
The journey back through the long tunnel was agonising. They had no means of relighting the candle and so had to simply walk into the darkness on blind faith. Despite his earlier assurances, Elizabeth could hear from Darcy’s harsh breathing that he was in a considerable amount of pain and her heart wrenched at the thought. Thankfully Georgiana appeared to be in a daze now and followed without resistance or protest. Elizabeth did not like to think what they would have done if they had had to deal with the girl in a hysterical state, whilst attempting to steer her down the dark tunnel.
At long last, they came out of the passageway into the music room, and within a few moments they were surrounded by servants and the other guests. Elizabeth fell gratefully into her aunt’s arms and relinquished responsibility of Georgiana to her companion and the housekeeper. Everyone seemed to be talking at once—asking questions, exclaiming over Darcy’s wound, fussing over Georgiana, hurrying to bring hot drinks and blankets…
Then Elizabeth was being hustled upstairs by Mrs Gardiner and she submitted quietly to her aunt’s and Tilly’s ministrations as they hastily prepared a hot bath for her, then wrapped her warmly and conducted her to bed. Though it was still only early afternoon, Elizabeth felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. She made no protest as her aunt pulled the blankets carefully over her and, before she knew it, she had drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elizabeth awakened and lay for a moment, staring at the canopy of her bed in confusion. The light seeping in through the curtains told her that it was early morning. Were they not meant to have left Pemberley yesterday? Why then was she lying in the same bed, sleeping in the same room that she had been occupying? She sat up quickly and the room spun around her.
“Lizzy! You are awake.” Mrs Gardiner came to the side of the bed and laid a solicitous hand on Elizabeth’s forehead.
At the sight of her aunt, the recent events came rushing back and Elizabeth said in alarm, “Oh! Wickham! The tunnel—Miss Darcy—”
“She is fine,” Mrs Gardiner reassured her. “The physician came yesterday evening and gave her some laudanum. I believe she slept soundly the whole night.”
“And… and her brother?” asked Elizabeth.
“Mr Darcy’s wound was seen by the physician as well and a healing salve applied, and then re-bandaged. Dr Baxter believes that there will be no lasting damage to the arm.”
Elizabeth felt a wave of relief wash over her. Darcy was well! Until that moment, she had not realised how much his welfare had been on her mind. She leaned back against her pillows, feeling the tension leave her body, and gave her aunt a tired smile.
“Then it seems that the misadventure has had a happy conclusion,” she said.
Mrs Gardiner pursed her lips. “There is still the matter of scandal and the damage to Miss Darcy’s reputation. But I think the Pemberley staff may be trusted—they appear devoted to their lady and master—and it is to be hoped that Darcy’s guests will be discreet and not indulge in idle gossip. The one to fear would be Caroline Bingley; that lady has a malicious tongue. However, I think her desire for Darcy’s affections will prevent her from doing anything that could incur his displeasure.”
Elizabeth silently agreed and was about to ask more when there came a soft knock on the bedroom door. Mrs Gardiner opened it to see Darcy standing on the threshold. His dark eyes met Elizabeth’s across the room and she blushed as she thought of her appearance: her hair loose and tangled about her shoulders, her face flushed from sleep, her shoulders peeping out from the wide collar of her nightgown.
“Mr Darcy.” Mrs Gardiner dropped a brief curtsy.
He bowed. “I came to enquire after Miss Bennet and… I wished to have a word with her.”
Mrs Gardiner hesitated, glancing back into the room, then to Elizabeth’s astonishment, her aunt turned back to him and said, “I need to return to my room to retrieve a scarf I left there. Please excuse me.” She brushed past him and disappeared down the corridor, leaving the door ajar behind her.
What was her aunt doing? It was the height of impropriety for a young lady to receive a gentleman unchaperoned in her bedroom and in her nightgown, no less! Though Elizabeth reminded herself that Darcy had seen her in her nightgown already on several occasions—not only here at Pemberley but also at Netherfield Park. Nevertheless, she pulled the bedclothes tighter around her as he stepped into the room.
He came forwards to stand by the bed and bowed stiffly. “I hope you are well.”
“Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth murmured. “How is Miss Darcy?”
“I have just been to see her. She is awake and, unfortunately, still very distressed by the events of yesterday afternoon.” Darcy paused. “She has taken Wickham’s death particularly badly.”
“Is it certain that he is dead?”
Darcy stiffened and something hard came into his eyes. “He fell off the edge of a precipice, madam. It is doubtful that he survived,” he said curtly. “I did send men out this morning to search the area below where he fell. They did not uncover a body. But that does not mean it is not there. There are many cracks and crevices in the rock face of the dales—his body may have been easily missed. I am sorry to disappoint you, but yes, it is likely that Wickham is dead.”
Elizabeth pulled back at his brusque tone and stared at him in hurt surprise. Why was Darcy speaking thus to her? She had thought that
he had come to apologise for his treatment of her, for doubting her and unfairly accusing her yesterday; she had thought that he would be tender and grateful over her role in rescuing his sister. Instead, she faced a cold man who stared at her with angry eyes and spoke words that wounded her heart.
A sound at the door made them both look around. Mrs Gardiner was hesitating in the doorway.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I will just wait outside—”
“No, aunt, please stay,” said Elizabeth quickly. She raised her chin and gave Darcy a cool look. “Mr Darcy was just leaving.”
Darcy looked as if he would say something else, then he stepped back and gave her another stiff bow. “Please accept my best wishes for your health.”
As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Mrs Gardiner hurried over to her niece’s side, her eyes anxious. “Lizzy? What happened? I thought—”
“I should like to leave Pemberley today, aunt. As soon as possible.”
“Leave? But I thought…” Mrs Gardiner looked at Elizabeth’s set mouth and the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “Very well. I shall go and inform your uncle. We are already packed as we had intended to leave yesterday, so we may leave within the hour.”
Elizabeth did not see Darcy again, though she knew that her aunt and uncle went to take leave of him and make their farewells to the other guests. She was sorry not to see Georgiana and say goodbye in person, but reasoned that perhaps it was for the best.
As they settled in the carriage, however, and began moving away from Pemberley, Elizabeth could not resist glancing back towards the elegant manor house and surrounding gardens. Something ached inside her. She remembered how nervous and excited she had been when she first arrived at the estate barely a week ago. How much had occurred in so short a time! How delighted she had been to renew the acquaintance with Darcy again… how ardently she had hoped that he might still care for her and be willing to renew his proposal to her…
How wrong I have been, she thought bitterly, turning back to face forwards. I have been a fool, believing that he could still love me, that he could respect and trust me… when he does none of those things. His manner to her this morning had made it abundantly clear how little he truly cared for her feelings. Well, she would have to find it in her to follow his example and put him from her heart.
Elizabeth was glad to return to Hertfordshire a week later. Though she had attempted to put the events at Pemberley and its handsome master out of her mind during the rest of the tour with her aunt and uncle, she had found it a trying time. She was relieved to be home, where the preoccupations and squabbles of the rest of her family could distract her from her own thoughts.
Things were aflutter in the Bennet household, as everyone was fully engaged in preparation for Jane’s wedding to Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet had had her dearest wish fulfilled and they were to be married from Longbourn, with the ceremony taking place at the local parish church in Meryton. She gloried in the envy of the neighbours and talked of the match at every opportunity. She had already been to London with Jane to see about fabric for the wedding gown and the bridesmaids’ attire, after Bingley had generously offered to fund the whole affair, and now she turned her attention to the wedding itself. The guests were to return to Longbourn afterwards for a wedding breakfast and Mrs Bennet was keen for all to see the great privileges that her eldest daughter was enjoying in marrying such a rich young man.
“We must have fish, certainly, and spiced beef, tongue, game pies, and cold meats…” Mrs Bennet said excitedly, pacing about the morning parlour a week before the wedding. “And then some eggs, fancy breads, rolls, jams, and marmalades… and of course, what fruits are in season. And the wedding cake! Jane, make haste—let us go speak to Hill and discuss the dimensions of the cake and the…”
Jane accompanied her mother to the kitchen, but returned to the parlour soon after, to join Elizabeth at the seat by the windows.
“Is aught the matter, Lizzy?” Jane looked at her in concern. “You have been very quiet since returning from Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth attempted to give her sister a cheery smile. “No, indeed, I am well, Jane.”
“Come now…” Jane gave her a severe look. “It is not like you to keep secrets from me, Lizzy. I can see that you are unhappy. It is something that has occurred in Derbyshire, is it not?” She tilted her head. “Is it something to do with Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth felt herself colouring. “Why should you think that?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could.
“Because I have noticed that you make great efforts to always show a most studied indifference whenever you do mention him. You stayed at his estate and spent more time there than at any other place during your tour, and yet you speak of it the least.”
“Perhaps there is not much to say.”
“I should hardly believe that. From what my aunt has related in her letters, it appears that there is a great deal to recount.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Elizabeth asked in alarm. She had not thought Mrs Gardiner so indiscreet as to mention Georgiana’s escapade with Wickham.
“Oh, your untimely fall into the lake… the meals with the other guests… the rumours about Miss Darcy’s pianoforte… the ghostly music that disturbed your sleep… why, it is like a veritable novel!”
“Ah, yes…” Elizabeth said, relaxing again. “Yes, there did seem to be quite a few diverting events during our stay. I daresay I had forgotten about them in the excitement over your wedding.”
Jane did not look convinced. “And Miss Darcy? How did you like her?”
“I liked her very well,” said Elizabeth. “She is a sweet girl, though a bit shy—but I found her most amiable and civil towards my aunt and uncle, and myself.”
“And Mr Darcy? Does he improve upon longer acquaintance?” Jane smiled. “I know you did not always like him, but I thought him exceedingly kind to me at the Netherfield ball when he vouched for me.”
“Yes, that was very kind of him,” Elizabeth murmured.
“And you have spent much time in his company recently, have you not? First at Rosings Park and then at Pemberley. Do you not feel more kindly disposed towards to him now?”
Elizabeth stared at her sister helplessly. How could she answer that question honestly? She had not told Jane about the closeness which had grown between her and Darcy during her stay at Hunsford and she certainly could not confide in her sister about his proposal, for it would have distressed Jane greatly to know that Elizabeth had refused it for her sake. No, Jane must never know about her sacrifice.
And now she could not share the events of her stay at Pemberley nor the truth of her feelings for Darcy. The former would require her to disclose Georgiana’s indiscretion with Wickham and she did not feel that she should betray that confidence, even to her own sister; the latter would mean confronting feelings that she would rather stay buried away.
There was not a day which passed that she did not think of Darcy and of what might have been. But his coldness towards her at their last meeting killed any hopes of a reconciliation between them. She was furious at him still for his behaviour towards her, but even more than that, she grieved for the loss of a love which could have brought them both so much happiness.
Elizabeth realised that Jane was still waiting for her answer. “I… I do not know if I am qualified to comment,” she said at last. “My feelings towards Mr Darcy are undecided still.”
Jane looked slightly puzzled at this answer, but thankfully Mrs Bennet returned to the parlour at that moment, demanding help in the planning of the wedding cake, and Elizabeth was able to escape further questions.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elizabeth was careful to avoid the subject of Darcy in the days that followed and was grateful that, as the wedding drew near, Jane became too preoccupied with her forthcoming nuptials to have much time for idle conversation. However, the master of Pemberley was thrust upon her mind again when she received a letter from her aunt two days b
efore the wedding with some surprising news:
My dearest Lizzy,
I hope this note finds you well and recovered from our travels in Derbyshire. I am looking forward to seeing you again soon at Jane’s wedding—and all your dear sisters, of course—however, I felt compelled to write at first opportunity to inform you of a most worrisome encounter I had recently.
While I was perusing the stores on Regent Street yesterday, I chanced upon Miss Darcy who was being accompanied by her brother. It seemed that they were spending some time in London, shopping and visiting the public gardens. They were extremely civil and indeed, appeared to express genuine delight in seeing me again.
Miss Darcy was quick to enquire after you and expressed regret at our hasty departure from Pemberley which prevented her from bidding you a personal farewell. Naturally, I was careful to circumvent the subject of Wickham, but I was greatly astonished when Miss Darcy raised the topic herself. She asked me to pass on her particular thanks to you for your kind support and mentioned that she felt you would be best placed to understand her grief, because you loved Wickham too.
My dear niece, pray explain to me how Miss Darcy should come to this conclusion? I was not aware that you had formed a romantic attachment to the highwayman, and yet from Miss Darcy’s words—and the stony demeanour of her brother—it is evident that they believe this to be true. I confess I was unable to conceal my surprise at her announcement and did protest the veracity of her assumption, declaring it a potential misunderstanding. My words seemed to throw Miss Darcy into some confusion, and I noticed her brother’s reaction was equally agitated.
I hope that you shall be able to clarify the situation when I next see you. At least we may depend on the Darcys’ discretion in keeping this information to themselves, for it would be extremely harmful to your reputation to have your name linked with Wickham’s in this manner.
Secrets at Pemberley Page 10