by Jann Rowland
“It appears he has fled, unsurprising, I suppose.” Mr. Darcy snorted with derision. “It was always his way to tend to cowardice. There is little chance he would brave a confrontation with me, though how he knew I would be here I have little understanding.”
“I called him a coward myself,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy regarded her, his fondness showing through his concern. “It would be best to return you to your father. Though I do not wish to lose any time in chasing him down, I would not leave you and risk his coming on you again.”
Elizabeth had little argument to voice, and she accepted his arm, allowing him to lead her back to Longbourn. As they hurried along, Elizabeth related to him the gist of her conversation with Mr. Wickham, noting his growing anger as she did. When she had related all, Mr. Darcy shook his head and gazed at the church, which had risen above the trees again, though unseeing in anger.
“When we were boys, I could never have imagined the depths to which he could fall. I am glad my father cannot see it, for he would be heartbroken.”
There was nothing to say to Mr. Darcy’s words, and Elizabeth did not attempt it. She instead drew closer to him, clutching his arm more tightly in a gesture of support and affection. Mr. Darcy noted it, for he clasped his free hand over hers, his thumb drawing circles over the flesh of the back of her hands.
“This day has not proceeded as I might have expected, Miss Elizabeth.”
The reminder of her speculations from earlier crossed Elizabeth’s mind, and she turned a questioning look on him. Mr. Darcy was caught up in his own ruminations and did not reply, leaving Elizabeth to reply.
“Oh? Did you have some particular purpose in mind? Perhaps you wished to inform me of your efforts to attract Miss Bingley’s attention. Or did you wish my advice on how best to go about it?”
Elizabeth’s tease had the desired effect, for he turned a raised eyebrow on her, prompting Elizabeth’s laughter. “I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, I have little desire to speak of Miss Bingley when I am in your presence, for there are much more pleasant subjects to discuss.”
“I am happy to hear it, Mr. Darcy. But the reason you wished to see me today is still a mystery.”
“In truth,” said Mr. Darcy, sounding very much like he was confessing, “I am unable to determine what I meant to say. Or perhaps it is more correct to say I do not know to what extent I would speak this morning.”
“Extent?” asked Elizabeth. “There are varying degrees of speech?”
Mr. Darcy turned an amused look on Elizabeth. “There are when you are trying to decide whether an acquaintance has been long enough in duration that a proposal will not be considered precipitous.”
The words prompted Elizabeth’s heart to fill near to bursting, and she stopped and turned to face him. “It seems like we have known each other longer, does it not?”
“A lifetime,” was all he said.
“Then we shall have another lifetime to come to know each other better, Mr. Darcy. I believe you may proceed in whatever way you choose.”
“I believe, my dear Miss Elizabeth, you do not understand to what you have just agreed.”
With care, watching her to see if she would draw away, Mr. Darcy leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Elizabeth sighed and melted into the kiss, once again feeling like putty in his hands, and while she was not experienced in the art, it felt like she knew exactly what to do, where to move, to raise her hand to cup his cheek as he gathered her close, his arm around her back. It lasted only a moment, but the promise, the sheer bliss it provoked in her, was as if they had stood on that path kissing for an hour.
“It seems to me, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” murmured he as he drew away, “I had best return you to your father. You are already far too tempting as it is.”
“Then I must retaliate, Fitzy,” said Elizabeth with a gay laugh, “for you have used my Christian name without my permission.”
“William, if you will,” said he. “Fitzy was what my cousin used to call me when he was teasing.”
“Then he should take care,” said Elizabeth, once again accepting his arm, “for that moniker would apply to him as it does to you.”
The sound of Mr. Darcy’s laughter prompted Elizabeth’s own. “And it did, more than once. Though I am two years younger, I gave as good as I received.”
By this time, Longbourn came into view. The pair hurried down the walk, Mr. Darcy eager to deliver her into the care of her father. They had not reached the door when it opened, and Mr. Bennet stepped out, grinning in anticipation of their news. It was not long, however, before his face fell at the sight of their grim countenances.
“What is it?” asked he before they could speak.
“Wickham,” was William’s short reply. “He accosted your daughter before I found her.”
Stricken, Mr. Bennet inspected Elizabeth, looking for signs of damage, a curious desperation about him, so unlike her unflappable father. “I should never have allowed you to go alone! Did he hurt you in any way?”
“No, Papa. I escaped him and found Mr. Darcy soon after.”
William turned an expressive look on Elizabeth for her avoidance of the use of his name, but Elizabeth shook her head. Now was not the time to speak of such matters with her father.
“I assume you mean to search for him?” asked Mr. Bennet having assured himself of Elizabeth’s safety.
“As soon as I return to Netherfield, I will assemble the estate’s footmen and stable hands and scour the area. If I can prevent his escape again, I shall do it.”
Mr. Bennet nodded, his calm demeanor replacing his concern, and augmented by determination. “I shall gather what I can of Longbourn’s manservants and begin to search here.” His eyes flicked to Elizabeth and he added: “But I will leave one footman, for it would not do to leave the estate unprotected should Wickham evade us and come here.”
“That is prudent,” replied William. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall be on my way.”
The gentlemen shook hands and William then bowed over Elizabeth’s hand before turning and climbing into the saddle. Within moments the dust of his passing was swirling through the air, and the sounds of his horse’s hooves pounding into the turf receded into the distance.
“Come, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “let us get you into the house. Your mother and sisters have not yet arisen, but I am sure they will soon. I will have left by the time they are about, so I will leave it to you to inform them that no one is to leave the house until I inform everyone it is safe to do so.”
“Yes, Papa,” said Elizabeth.
“Now, please tell me what happened while I am preparing to leave.”
Mr. Bennet gave a few low instructions Mr. Hill, the butler, and then Elizabeth told her father the tale of her fright that morning, only leaving out the more intimate parts of her time with William. As she told him what happened, Elizabeth noted the darkening of Mr. Bennet’s countenance, the way he muttered imprecations when she informed him of her sudden flight. It was not a long recitation, for he was eager to depart, and once she had finished, he turned and pulled her into an embrace, which surprised Elizabeth, since he was not a tactile man.
“My dearest daughter! What a fright you have had. I heartily apologize I did not insist on accompanying you or insisting you did not walk out—I know you value your time with your gentleman, but it is not worth the risk to your safety!”
“Do not blame yourself, Papa,” said Elizabeth from the safety of his arms. “I did not expect to see Mr. Wickham this morning either.”
“No, but we have had ample warning of his perfidy to know you should not be walking out. I know you have valued your freedom in the past, but these walks must stop until the threat of Mr. Wickham has passed.”
“I cannot agree more,” said Elizabeth.
A thought tickled the back of her mind and she paused, her lips pulling down into a frown. Mr. Bennet noted it, but he seemed to r
ecognize her introspection, for he did not interrupt. Then Elizabeth remembered, and she gazed at her father in consternation.
“Mr. Wickham may have been stalking me for some time!”
“What do you mean?”
“The day Mr. Darcy left for Kent, I walked out near the Campbell farm and had the distinct sense I was being followed. As I walked, a flock of birds took to the air from the middle of the woods, and I thought I heard the snapping of a branch behind me. But then Mr. Campbell hailed me and I did not think on it further.”
“Then perhaps Mr. Wickham has been more focused on my family than I thought.” Mr. Bennet nodded to himself. “That makes it more imperative than ever you all follow my instructions to the letter.”
“Do not worry, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “I have no intention of disobeying.”
“Good girl. Inform your mother and sisters when they awake, Lizzy. I shall be back when I can, I hope with good news.”
Then Mr. Bennet departed through the open door to the horse which was waiting for him. Two stable hands and a footman were already mounted and waiting, and after imparting a few terse instructions, the party rode through the gate. As they left, Elizabeth noted her father’s rifle was strapped to his saddle, and the other men were similarly armed.
Chapter XXVII
“Darcy!” exclaimed Bingley as Darcy entered Netherfield, handing his gloves and great coat to the butler with a softly spoken instruction to keep them at hand. “Whatever is the matter?”
The sight of Miss Bingley descending the stairs after her brother, looking at them with keen interest, stayed Darcy’s response. Instead, he beckoned his friend down the hall which led toward the study, and after glancing behind to ensure they were not being followed, undertook to explain the morning’s events to his friend.
“Wickham is in the area.”
Bingley gasped. “Wickham? Did you apprehend him?”
“I wish I had, but I did not see him. While on her morning walk, Miss Elizabeth encountered and was forced to flee from him—I met her soon after.”
It seemed Bingley had no indication of Darcy’s purpose for being out that morning nor any reason to suppose he had meant to meet with Miss Elizabeth. Though they had not been engaging in anything improper, Darcy preferred to keep his friend from any notion of the truth. Bingley was not noted for being the soul of discretion, and Darcy did not wish to give Miss Bingley any reason to speak of Miss Elizabeth.
“Are we to search for him?” asked Bingley after a moment.
“I suspect he has already fled far from here,” said Darcy. “Wickham has ever been a coward. But we must make the attempt. If you have not yet broken your fast, please do so while I send an express to Fitzwilliam.”
“Join me when you have finished,” said Bingley. “Hurst and Louisa have already descended—I am certain Hurst will offer his assistance. Either way, I believe you could some tea would do you good.”
“Though I am uncertain there is time, I will join you.”
The two men parted then, Darcy heading for the library. The letter was quickly written and sanded, which Darcy then gave to the butler with the instructions to ensure its immediate disposition. Then Darcy instructed him to gather as many stable hands and footmen with mounts as could be spared and meet out near the front door. When this was complete, Darcy made his way to the breakfast room, heedless of the riding leathers he still wore.
Four sets of eyes looked up at him as he entered, and while he noticed the concern on Mrs. Hurst’s face and the determination on the part of the gentlemen, Miss Bingley’s appraisal was not welcome at all. It was the younger woman who spoke first.
“Mr. Wickham is again in Hertfordshire?”
“It seemed best to warn my sisters,” said Bingley by way of apology. “Though I would not expect him to come to Netherfield, I cannot put anything past him at this point.”
“It is only prudent,” said Darcy with a curt nod. “It may be best to warn the other gentlemen of the neighborhood as well.”
Bingley nodded. “I shall ask the butler to see to it.”
“It is strange the gentleman continues to come here, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, apparently unwilling to be ignored. “One might wonder if there is anything that draws him back. And I understand Miss Eliza was the one to see him?” The woman sniffed in disdain. “That is curious, for she was the last one to see him in Hertfordshire before he fled, I believe.”
Darcy turned the full force of his displeasure on Miss Bingley, taking a measure of dark glee at her sudden pallor. “In the company of her sisters, Miss Bingley. Surely you are not suggesting she was engaged in some assignation when he forced her to flee from him.”
Especially since the assignation was with me.
“Of course not,” replied Miss Bingley, eager to deflect his displeasure. “But one cannot help but wonder what he means by continuing to return.”
“I cannot speak to his thoughts, for they have forever been a mystery to me. It seems, however, that he has developed a taste for vengeance, for the words he spoke to Miss Elizabeth suggested anger that his schemes were not fruitful. Beyond that, I cannot say, for as I said, his thoughts are unfathomable to me.
“Bingley, Hurst, are you prepared to depart?” asked Darcy, unwilling to trade further words with this woman.
“Yes, let us leave,” said Hurst, rising from his chair with a glance at his brother.
The three men took their leave and stepped quickly out of doors where the party of stable hands and footmen were already waiting. After a few instructions, where Darcy informed them of the identity of their quarry and the location where he was seen, they set out.
Thus began a frustrating morning of fruitless searching for a man who, Darcy was certain, was no longer in the neighborhood. They found Mr. Bennet and the Longbourn men quickly, a few words from the other gentleman revealing they had not as yet had any luck in sighting Wickham either. They fanned out from there, searching the nearby area, scouring the woods and gullies of Mr. Bennet’s land. But Wickham was nowhere to be found.
“What do you suggest now, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mr. Bennet when the morning had surrendered to afternoon. “Should we go further afield than we have? There are only so many places on the estate that a man can hide.”
“I cannot say, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “It was my firm opinion that Wickham would avoid the neighborhood after he discovered my presence. Enduring discomfort has never been Wickham’s forte, and as such, I might have thought he would move on to the next likely target of his schemes.”
“It appears he has changed much in the years since your estrangement,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Can he have been receiving assistance?”
“My cousin believes he has a confederate who has been providing him aid but has not been able to discover who it is. But that was in London, not Hertfordshire.”
“Could he have been holed up in some copse of woods nearby?” asked Hurst.
“It is possible,” was Darcy’s reluctant reply. “Again, I should not have thought him willing to endure the simple conditions of a campsite.”
“The question is where,” said Mr. Bennet. “There are any number of small copses or larger groves in the area. It will take some time to search them all. At present, I do not believe it is worth our time to continue this search.”
Little though he appreciated it, Darcy could not disagree. “At this new sighting of him, my cousin will almost certainly join me here. It is possible he might think of something I have not.”
Mr. Bennet gave a tight nod in response. “Then I suppose there is little to be done except to ensure we are protected against the possibility of his return. To that end, I shall keep my girls at home—it may be too dangerous for them to even walk into Meryton.”
“I shall ensure my sisters also stay close to the house,” said Bingley.
“It may be best to avoid riding alone as well,” said Mr. Bennet peering at Darcy in particular. “
This Mr. Wickham’s behavior is becoming ever more unpredictable and dangerous. If he finds you alone and is armed, there is no telling what he might do.”
Again, Darcy did not like the insinuation, but he knew Mr. Bennet was correct. “That would be for the best.”
The gentlemen all agreed and the search was called off. Hurst, it appeared, was eager to return to Netherfield—a morning in the saddle did not agree with him, though he had been more than willing to assist. For Darcy’s part, he was more interested in seeing Miss Elizabeth once more that day and assuring himself of her wellbeing.
“Well, this is more excitement than we have seen in our neighborhood for many a year,” said Mr. Bennet as they turned to ride back to Longbourn. “Your coming to Netherfield was enough to excite the wagging tongues of every gossip within ten miles without all this intrigue!”
“I think I speak for my friend, Mr. Bennet,” replied Bingley, who had been as eager to see his lady as Darcy had been to see his, “I would have been happy without it.”
“This is so unlike Wickham,” said Darcy. Though he had spoken out loud, his words were more introspective. “He has always been a coward, one to run at the first sign of trouble. Though I could see him conceiving a plan to compromise my sister, the threat of his current actions is unlike anything I have ever witnessed from him.”
“People change,” was Mr. Bennet’s reply. “The years after the sundering of your acquaintance have not yielded the riches he was hoping to amass, and that has likely altered him, given him a sense of desperation. With desperation comes a man’s willingness to accept risks he might not otherwise.”
Darcy grunted. “That is possible. But I have always observed that those who are cowards stay cowards. And yet Wickham has somehow become more daring.”
“I cannot help you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet. The elder gentleman reached across the distance between their mounts and rested a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “I believe there is little we can do but focus on what is before us. Perhaps once he is apprehended, his motivations will become clear.”