~Twenty-six~
Darcy rode in silence ahead of the carriage and away from the others; it was the only way to keep his growing rage in check. It was brought of frustration and helplessness. For nearly a fortnight they had searched miles of the surrounding area between Pemberley and Upton Chase, but had come away empty. It was as if Elizabeth had simply vanished. Rumors had already begun to circulate and had reached his ears, fueling the fire inside him. How dare anyone suggest that he may be behind her disappearance? Apparently, no one believed the story told by a simpleminded young woman, even if it was true. Others, claimed that Elizabeth had run away, but that too was preposterous. The only logical solution was obvious; someone had taken the love of his life for reasons as yet unknown. No note of ransom had arrived with demands for her return. She had simply vanished. If not for Maura Runnymede’s suggestion that Peter Endicott was behind the disappearance, he would never have considered the man to be capable of such. In the end, he had sent an urgent message to Rosamund and Andrew Hanneford. In celebration of their recent marriage, they had made the short journey to Evergreens, the Hanneford estate. With his extended family just returned from a stay in Italy, all had made much of the sudden match. Even Andrew’s mother, now widowed, was ecstatic over the surprise. But when Darcy’s letter had arrived, Lady Jane Hanneford’s countenance had taken a look of bittersweet sorrow.
“Your father and I have a bit of history…. I thought you knew,” she explained to Rosamund, and after elaboration, it was decided that her presence was of utmost necessity.
“I was once engaged to marry Peter, but my father did not approve. Peter believed it was because of his sister’s disgrace, but it was not. Papa feared Peter’s erratic moods and tendency towards violence. Passionately in love, I had not believed it of him until I experienced it for myself. If he has taken Elizabeth…I fear for her greatly.”
Now ensconced in an enclosed carriage some yards behind, Darcy pondered if her presence would be of any use. Lost love can often result in deep resentment, and the more his mind turned over the situation, he had to admit that the evidence against Peter was only supposition. Turing his attention back to the road, he noticed a plume of smoke in the near distance. It was far too much to be that of a cottage chimney, but to his knowledge, there were no residences of any kind on this stretch of road. Sniffing the air, it bore tones of an acrid sourness. This was no ordinary collection of wood and refuse; it had a sharpness that was odd. Nearing the rising dark cloud, the sound of fire crackling as it spread was suddenly accompanied by a muffled explosion that sent flames upwards from somewhere in the forest. Halting his mount, Darcy waved to the driver of the carriage behind him just as a frightened horse, pulling an empty curricle bolted from a narrow lane. Nearly missing the travelers, they could but watch in shock as the poor beast ran without guidance in the opposite direction before stopping several yards away.
“We must stop and see if assistance is required. There may be people hurt,” Darcy insisted as Andrew Hanneford exited the carriage.
“Of course. The ladies will go on ahead and sound the alarm to the nearest house, but I do not want them approaching Upton Chase without us. Rosamund is in no condition to deal with her father’s unpleasantness.”
“No indeed,” Darcy agreed, but was met by defiance from Maura Runnymede.
“I should come, neither of you have any sort of medical knowledge.”
“Absolutely not…I need you to stay with Rosamund. We cannot risk having a midwife get hurt, besides I don’t know how long we shall be. It may be necessary for you to go to Upton Chase without us. Rosamund may not be up for a confrontation, but I have no concerns that you cannot handle Peter.”
To this logic, Maura could not refute and agreed to accompany Rosamund and Jane Hanneford out of harm’s way. As the carriage bore them away, Andrew did his best to pacify the strange terrified horse before walking it to where Darcy’s was tied.
“We should go in on foot.” Darcy directed and both men covered their faces with handkerchiefs to reduce the thickening smoke’s effects. By now, they could barely see an outline of a small structure some distance away. Dying flames still licked the roofline where it protruded above the earth berm sides, but would soon die out. The heavy rains, pausing in their deluge, did much to prevent spread, but increased the volume of smoke, penetrating the silk wrapped over their faces. Coughing, they stepped carefully around the structure, looking for any signs of human habitation. At first, it appeared abandoned, but upon inspection of the charred interior, a pair of ladies’ boots, still occupied by their owner, showed evidence of at least one tragedy.
“What do you suppose happened to the poor thing?” Andrew said as he made to offer a last rite of prayer over the burned body before covering the face with his own coat.
“Probably an old widow, living alone… these thatched roofs do go up quickly. It appears that her skirts caught fire. People often panic and get disoriented in fires when good common sense will save them,” Darcy surmised as he stamped out a stray ember. The fire, nearly extinguished by the increasing rain, had not completely destroyed the structure. In truth, it was only the one corner, now occupied by the remains of the woman, that suffered the most damage.
“I cannot imagine anyone living here owning a horse, much less that curricle we found. There must have been someone else here.”
“You are right,” Darcy agreed and the two began to inspect the ruins. Of furnishings, the place was sparse, and now burned beyond salvage, there was little that had not been damaged. A pile of what appeared to be rags, was piled against the wall opposite the door. Sorting through, Darcy found nothing of interest until his eyes caught upon a flash of gold as it rolled from the cloth to the dirt floor before stopping under the bedframe. Frowning, he bent down to retrieve the object, only to instantly drop it once again. It was a bejeweled cross, in the Renaissance style, with cabochons of rubies set in an intertwining filigree. He recognized it immediately. It was Elizabeth’s, a gift from last Christmas. She had been here. But where was she now?
~Twenty-seven~
Elizabeth, unable to move from her hiding place, did her best to smother her own coughing as the smokey fire threatened to force her from the temporary haven. Rubbing her hands along her arms to keep warm, she listened as the forest crackled around her. Fire, in all its forms, sent living beings fleeing for safety. Birds and small furred creatures, darted and dashed past her, but no human forms. Had her captors not given chase? Or had they gone in an opposite direction? Waiting for what seemed like an eon, Elizabeth forced her cramped limbs to move as she emerged from the brambles that had concealed her, ignoring the scratches that seemed to beckon her to stay. Speaking aloud to her child, she found the sound of her voice to create a façade of calm.
“Well little one, it appears we have escaped. Shall we see if there is someone nearby to offer a cup of tea?”
The gesture, absurd in nature, did little to quell the fear in her bones, but remaining was not an option. Soon, it would be dark and cold. She was a young and healthy woman despite her present condition, a walk was just what she needed. Taking measure of her surroundings, Elizabeth did not wish to go further into the forest, but nor was returning to the fire. Looking upwards to discern her location, a weak sun, shadowed by clouds threatening rain again, gave little as to direction. Sighing, she shrugged off the chill and settled for a course adjacent to the cabin and began to walk. Although tears threatened, giving up was not an option. Fortunately, the trees soon thinned, revealing a wide well-traveled road. It was sloped and dry, offering a much-needed relief from the sodden leaves that had rendered her shoes a soupy mess which squished with each step. Imagining a hot bath and warm slippers, Elizabeth found her mind wandering more than her feet. The temperature had dropped again, and fat drops of rain plastered her hair down her back. Eventually, pangs of hunger and thirst had begun to take their toll, muddling her thoughts and clouding her vision as the road wavered in an out of focus. Staggering
to maintain, for if she stopped, Elizabeth knew she would give in to the elements, she did not notice the carriage approach from behind. Trotting at a speed that was unwise for the conditions, the driver was nearly upon her before halting from the order of the occupants.
“Stop! Oh Mr. Redmond, stop! It is Mrs. Darcy! We have found her!” shouted Rosamund Hanneford, her head thrust through the window as she leaned precariously out of the conveyance. Pulling the younger woman inside, Maura Runnymede alighted from the carriage before it was completely stopped, and reached Elizabeth first. The touch of comforting hands, accompanied by a familiar voice, was the break in Elizabeth’s resolve. Collapsing to the ground, she gave in to oblivion with relief.
*****
Unaware of Elizabeth’s rescue, Darcy and Andrew frantically searched the area surrounding the cabin, but no other person, alive or otherwise, was found. Several boot prints, of a size belonging to men, gave proof of an accomplice, but they were long gone.
“Scoundrel probably ran off! If I ever find them…. I swear I will….”
Darcy threat was cut off by the look of admonishment from his companion. As a minister, Andrew Hanneford found it difficult to believe that there was any soul who was beyond saving. Even the demand from his bishop that he make amends with Peter Endicott did not seem unsurmountable, but then, Rosamund was safe. Of Elizabeth, they still did not know, and he was woefully inexperienced in counseling this sort of spiritual crisis. Having exhausted their search of the surrounding grounds, he did not wish to waste any more time. As it was, they had been about it for over an hour and it would grow dark.
“I suggest we not remain here any longer. Someone will need to be sent to take care of the woman’s body. Perhaps if her identity is known, we will find Elizabeth. I know this is small consolation, but surely whomever has her, wants to keep her alive.”
Darcy did not reply, his hands, closed in fists of anger relaxed as they left the cabin behind. He had never felt her loss so greatly as now. Tucking the jeweled cross in his waistcoat pocket, he forced his thoughts on the day when he would restore it to her. Choosing to ride ahead, while Andrew brought the abandoned curricle, they did not meet up with the ladies until well after they had arrived at Upton Chase. The Darcy carriage, stood at the entry to the stables as Redmond the driver, patted the horses down as if it were a regular social visit expecting to last for hours. However, upon seeing Darcy arrive, the coachman ran to his master with an expression of relief and worry.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy! It is the most wonderful of news… Mrs. Darcy has been found! She is inside as we speak!” he exclaimed as Darcy tossed him the reins to his horse and took the entry steps by twos. His heart beat so rapidly that he was hardly able to breathe.
“Where is she? Where is my wife?” he demanded of the footman who opened the door, but did not wait for an answer. For inside the great hall, Lady Jane Hanneford stood facing Peter Endicott, and another man, whose coarse clothing suggested he had recently been cleaning a chimney. Hearing his inquiry, Lady Hanneford paused in her interrogation and smiled at Darcy.
“I suggest you go straight up. Elizabeth is being tended, but I believe there is another Darcy that will soon demand your attentions. All of this….”, she said, gesturing to the two men before her with dismissal, “Can wait for later… they are not going anywhere.”
Puzzled, Darcy’s eyes narrowed, but clarity was provided with the sudden arrival of Sir Edmund Harker and two burly men in police uniforms.
“Yes, yes,” concurred the magistrate and waved Darcy away. “You have more pressing matters at the moment. We shall all take advantage of Peter’s hospitality in the meantime, will we not Peter?”
The words, cordial in their manner, held an underlying tone of contempt towards Lord Upton who now slumped into a chair. His companion, seeing his future in the hangman’s noose, began to blubber, revealing all that was needed to know about Lord Upton’s schemes, but also claiming that Elizabeth had killed his aunt. Furious at the accusation, Darcy had no time to listen and ignored them all, making haste to the chamber in which Elizabeth now lay, but froze with his hand poised to knock. A low moan had halted his movements as fear ripped through him. Would he gain her back only to lose again? Fortunately, one of the women inside had much practice with ladies bearing children and held no notions that demanded fathers be absent. Hearing the commotion below, Maura paused in her ministrations to Elizabeth and opened the door.
“Come in…her waters have broken, but it may be hours yet as her pains have not started. First babies tend to come when they will. I shall leave you two alone for a bit, but will be nearby if you need,” Maura Runnymede insisted with a calm smile.
Elizabeth had been very fortunate that they had found her when they did. Dehydrated and exhausted, the strain of her ordeal had sent Mrs. Darcy into early labor. By Maura’s calculations, it was still several weeks before her expected time, but the child was strong, and she had felt movement. There was no reason to suspect anything but a normal delivery, but recovery might necessitate longer time. However, these were not details for an expectant father’s ears. Gesturing to the recently vacated chair next to the bed, Maura beckoned to Rosamund to accompany her out.
“She’s sleeping for now, but you may wake her. I am sure that seeing your face will do wonders,” Maura insisted and left Darcy to his Elizabeth.
Once alone, he took her limp hand in his. It was warm, and her pulse throbbed with a regular steadiness that was comforting. The feel of the familiar touch caused a fluttering of eyelids as Elizabeth smiled upon seeing him. Patting the space beside her in the bed, Darcy acquiesced and curled his form around hers.
“Safe and sound,” he whispered.
“Safe now… but there is so much to tell, and the baby… He…he thought I was Rosamund. I… I started a fire…” Elizabeth mumbled, but Darcy put a finger to her lips, halting any further speech.
“Shh…Maura says our child is fine, but plans an entrance a bit earlier than expected. Already making demands, imagine that?” Darcy chuckled in an attempt to sooth her. However, no reply came as Elizabeth was asleep once again, but this time, a smile adorned her features. For now, it was enough.
~Twenty-eight~
Unfortunately, Darcy’s reunion with Elizabeth was cut short by the request for his presence. As his wife was soundly asleep, he disentangled himself from her arms and went below, leaving her in the care of Maura.
“I will send for you the moment she wakes,” the midwife promised but wished she could prevent what was soon to be a nasty encounter. In the hour that Darcy had lain with his wife, much had occurred that would not have a pleasant ending unless he interfered. But considering what Peter Endicott had done to Elizabeth, she doubted that Darcy would be in any way lenient. Smiling wryly as he departed, Maura was glad that her brother’s selfishness could no longer harm her or her daughter. Darcy too dreaded what lay ahead, his rage had cooled, but now a terrifying feeling of revenge threatened his resolve. Taking a moment in a hall mirror to run his fingers through his hair and straighten his neckcloth, he hoped to provide an appearance of calm, rational thought. But Peter Endicott had dared to abduct his pregnant wife, putting their lives at risk. It mattered not that his henchmen had made a mistake in her capture, it was the very idea that he believed himself above not only the law, but common decency. It was not to be tolerated and punishment must be dealt firmly. Once below, a timid maid gestured to where the company was assembled. A small receiving room had been chosen and upon entering, Darcy noticed the heavy iron shackles about the wrists and ankles of both men.
“Ah, Darcy! So good of you to join us; I trust Elizabeth is in good hands?” inquired Sir Edmund Harker in a tone that belied the severity of the occasion.
“Yes… no thanks to them!”
“Indeed, that is why your presence was requested. The sooner this is settled, all of us can focus on more pleasant matters.”
“I should see them both in Newgate,” Darcy said flatly, taking the so
le remaining empty chair where he could glare at the accused.
Sir Edmund sighed; this was the part of his position as magistrate that he hated most. While it was obvious that Peter Endicott had orchestrated a most heinous crime, there was little evidence to prove actual fault. Only the word of a know criminal pointed direct fingers of blame, and that was precious little upon which to arrest a peer of the realm, however rotten an excuse for man he may be. Even now, despite the restraints, Peter Endicott smirked with an arrogance of magnitude proportions.
“As would we all, but it is not so simple.”
“What is not simple? Peer or not, Lord Upton ordered his daughter kidnapped and the fools he hired took my wife instead!”
“Prove it.”
“What is there to prove? My Elizabeth and my unborn child could have died! She was found crawling along the roadside!”
“I am aware, and you have my deepest sympathies, but we will only have the testimony of one man that Peter Endicott has paid him… and two others to do the deed. There is a lack of credible witnesses. One is missing, the other dead, from a fire claimed to be started by Elizabeth herself. Elizabeth may testify that this man” he gestured to the still sobbing giant of a man, “kept her prisoner, on the orders of Lord Upton, believing her to be Rosamund, but that is all. Mrs. Darcy will be forced to attend a trial where the defense barristers will be ruthless. If she is willing, I have no issue with an arrest, but if you wish to spare your wife the scandal, there is another option.”
A Child for Elizabeth Page 10