Darcy shook his head ruefully—he should have known that Caroline would react in such a fashion. However much pride she accused him of, she had twice as much, if not more. Darcy hoped that her pride would save her from deeper hurt than she had already endured.
“What on earth did you do to my sister?” Bingley asked with a laugh as he joined Darcy with Miss Bennet. He stared after the path Caroline had taken. “It looked as if she were about to knock everyone to the ground!”
“I’m sure she will explain later,” Darcy said, feeling uncomfortable. Bingley had always been aware of Darcy’s discomfort with Caroline’s affections, but he felt no need to enlighten the man to his sister’s distress at this moment. Not in front of Miss Bennet.
“A mystery,” Bingley said with a laugh. “Well, perhaps this is one you can solve. Miss Bennet and I have made our way to you because you wore a look on your face like a lost puppy. What, or should I say whom, have you lost?”
Bingley’s eyes danced as if he knew the answer. Darcy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, willing Bingley to cease his teasing. Darcy had not yet had the courage to tell Elizabeth of his affections, and he had no desire for her sister to find out first.
Darcy was about to answer when he saw Miss Bennet’s face. She looked as flustered as he felt.
“Miss Bennet?” He asked, concern in his voice. “You look quite worried, what is it?”
“Oh, it is nothing, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said quickly, smiling nervously.
“No, it isn’t,” Bingley quickly assured her. “In fact, Darcy, it is the main reason we began to seek you out in the first place. We cannot seem to locate Miss Elizabeth.”
“What?” Darcy asked suddenly, an irrational wave of worry washing over him. He tried to calm himself—there were many people about and Netherfield was quite large. She was undoubtedly tucked into a corner, watching everyone around her. So why was he suddenly concerned?
“I have not seen her since before the first set,” Miss Bennet explained. “It is most unlike her to not watch the dancing, even if she is not participating.”
“I suggested we find the younger Bennet girls,” Bingley said, glancing between Darcy and Miss Bennet. “But Miss Bennet seemed to think you might know where she is.”
Elizabeth’s sister flushed a deep red as Darcy turned back to her with a questioning look. Why would she think he knew of Elizabeth’s whereabouts?
“I have not seen her,” Darcy said to Bingley. “But you are wise to consult the youngest. Let us see if we can find them.”
“They will be dancing, most likely with one officer or another,” Miss Bennet said slowly, as if worried that her two companions would judge her sisters.
Both men nodded at her, and they went off to search for the sisters.
It soon turned out that Miss Bennet had proved to be quite right: they had barely crossed back into the ballroom before all three of them spotted Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty, surrounded by officers, both their faces red from the exertion of dancing. Miss Bennet hurried over to them.
“Kitty, Lydia,” she said, smiling politely at their companions. “We cannot seem to locate Elizabeth. Do you know where she has gone off to?”
Darcy and Bingley stood directly behind Jane, and Darcy was startled to see looks of dislike being cast toward him from both younger girls.
“Does he want to know?” Miss Lydia asked, looking at Darcy in a pointed manner. “Because if he is looking for her, perhaps Elizabeth is better off staying hidden.”
Darcy was startled by the unbridled malice in the girl’s voice. What had he ever done to her? Miss Bennet looked back at Darcy, humiliation clear upon her face.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Please excuse my sister. She does not realise what she is saying.”
“I do, too!” The younger girl said hotly. “I know all about you, Mr. Darcy. I know all about how you treated poor Mr. Wickham!”
At Wickham’s name, Darcy’s jaw clenched in anger, but he understood Miss Lydia’s attitude. It seemed that Wickham’s slander had spread.
“What is this now?” Bingley asked, clearly confused at the growing tension. “Wickham? That rogue we attended university with? What has he got to do with anything?”
“You know Mr. Wickham?” Miss Bennet asked, sounding surprised.
“Unfortunately,” Bingley confirmed.
“He is an officer in His Majesty’s militia,” Miss Kitty said, sounding affronted that anyone could speak negatively about a member of the militia.
“Here? In Meryton?” Bingley asked, surprised. “You mean to say that by extending the invitation to the ball to all officers, I’ve inadvertently invited him into my home?”
“I am sorry, Bingley,” Darcy said. “I probably should have warned you, but I did not think Wickham would have the courage to show his face here. Not after learning that I was staying. Indeed, I am surprised he managed to muster up the courage, knowing you were the host!”
“I suppose he depended upon disappearing into the sea of red,” Bingley mused darkly. “I do not blame you, Darcy. You know how much I disliked him. Undoubtedly, you thought you were saving me from anger and discomfort.”
“Excuse me,” Lydia interrupted in a harsh tone. “But what are you talking about? What grudge could you possibly have against someone as wonderful as Mr. Wickham?”
“Wonderful?” Bingley asked, incredulous. “I can scarcely say the word in the same sentence as Wickham. He is a dishonour; a man who keeps neither his promises, nor pays his debts! Perhaps he thinks I have forgotten, but he owes me a great deal of money!”
The Bennet girls looked confused, so Bingley elaborated. “We played cards together in university. At least we did until we got caught cheating! I had no idea, and blessedly I was believed, but the stain haunts me still. As does the fine I was obliged to pay to the establishment, as well as our opponents.”
“How dreadful!” Miss Bennet exclaimed, looking truly grieved over the event. Even Lydia and Kitty looked disturbed upon learning this about the man they had so admired. Darcy decided to press the advantage.
“Would you consent to help us find Miss Elizabeth?”
The youngest Bennet girls exchanged an alarmed look.
“What is it?” Miss Bennet asked at once, apparently recognizing the look upon her sisters’ faces.
“Well, we do know where Lizzy went,” Miss Kitty said slowly. “But I’m afraid you aren’t going to like what we tell you…”
“Where is she?” Darcy pressed, concern rising within him once more.
“She went out towards the garden,” Miss Lydia said, waving a hand in the direction of the door.
“With Mr. Wickham,” Miss Kitty added, looking more worried than her sister. Darcy heard Jane Bennet gasp.
Immediately, Darcy felt his stomach drop. Why had Wickham taken Elizabeth out into the dark night? It could not be for an innocent reason, Darcy felt horribly sure of this fact. More horrible still was the realization that Elizabeth had gone off with Wickham on her own accord. Darcy dreaded to think what lies he had told her to convince her to accompany him. He knew well how convincing Wickham could be when he wanted to. Darcy knew he had to find them before it was too late—for what, he was not certain.
Chapter 25
Elizabeth
“Mr. Bingley has truly chosen the most beautiful grounds in the county,” Elizabeth sighed, taking a deep breath of the fresh air.
She and Mr. Wickham were rounding the path through the gardens, heading away from the brightly lit house. Two couples walked before them, although at a slight distance so they could speak privately. Mr. Bingley had considered that his guests might wish to take in the night air, and torches appeared at even intervals along the path.
“The Charles Bingley I remember would focus upon his grounds,” Mr. Wickham said with a laugh. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise—both because he apparently knew Mr. Bingley, and because of the note of cruelty she detected in his laugh.
“I d
id not realise you were acquainted with Mr. Bingley as well,” Elizabeth said, straining to remember if they had ever discussed Mr. Darcy’s long-time friend. She certainly did not remember Wickham saying she knew Mr. Bingley, but she also could not recall if he had claimed otherwise.
“Another old friend,” Wickham said off-handedly. “And another man better at presenting himself at present than he did in his past.”
Elizabeth was shocked to hear the accusation. While Mr. Darcy had a temperament that could be perceived to invite differing opinions, Mr. Bingley was the exact opposite. She could not imagine anyone accusing Mr. Bingley of untoward behaviour.
“I am surprised to hear you say such a thing,” Elizabeth said slowly. “For Mr. Bingley is a kind person. I cannot imagine what ill passed between you that still impacts you in so negative a fashion.”
“I should not say anything,” Wickham said, his face in shadows. They were walking in a long gap between the torches. “I know your eldest sister holds him in the highest regard. It would be most unkind of me to shatter her illusion of him.”
Elizabeth felt her suspicion rise. He declined to give details, yet made no effort to soften his opinion of their host. What had Jane said of Wickham when they first met? That he was eager to share his woes? It seemed Mr. Darcy was not Mr. Wickham’s only persecutor…
Wickham stopped suddenly, and Elizabeth walked two more steps before she realised he was no longer beside her. She turned and saw him gesturing toward an unlit section of the garden. One that led still further away from the house.
“Come,” Wickham said, his wide smile visible in the last of the dim torchlight. “The surprise I wanted to show you is this way.”
Elizabeth felt her apprehension grow. Whatever feelings of trust that she had gained by their conversation indoors was quickly evaporating. She glanced around, noticing the other couples were no longer anywhere to be seen. Her heart suddenly jumped to her throat.
“How can it be that way?” She asked lightly, trying to hide her nervousness. “There are no torches. We would not be able to see anything!”
“Now, now,” Wickham said, walking closer to her. “Do you not trust me?”
Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot, uncertain where to move to escape. In a rush of clarity, she suddenly realised that Mr. Wickham was a dangerous man, and certainly not one to be trusted.
“I would like to go back to the ball,” she said loudly, hoping he could not hear the growing fear in her voice.
Mr. Wickham sighed, as if disappointed. “A pity you did not trust me,” he said sadly. “But I’m afraid I cannot let you return to the ball.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock. “Whyever not?” She asked, all pretence at hiding her fear fleeing. She backed up away from Wickham, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of panic well up within her. She was all alone out here, with no one to protect her.
“You are going to help me settle an old debt,” Wickham said calmly, still advancing on her.
“No, I am not!” Elizabeth said firmly, a rush of courage filling her. She tried to dodge around Wickham, but before she could set her feet to running, she felt rough hands grab her from behind. She screamed loudly and kicked back against the hulking man who had her in his grip.
Her scream was cut off before it left her throat, rough, dirty hands covering her mouth. Elizabeth felt her eyes go wide with terror, and she screamed again. But the man’s hand was pressed too firmly to allow any sound to escape.
“It’s about time you got here,” Wickham said angrily. Apparently, he knew the man trapping Elizabeth. She continued to struggle, but the huge man held her easily.
“It was dark,” the man said defensively. Upon hearing the unique cadence of his words, Elizabeth stopped struggling. She knew this man! She recognised his voice, but she could not quite place where she remembered him from.
“You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance,” Wickham said harshly. “After you and James bungled the last job so badly.”
“How were we supposed to know that some rich gentleman would ride out of the shadows, waving a pistol like a hero from the stories?” The man holding Elizabeth asked, his frustration evident in his voice.
As he spoke, Elizabeth took in his words—a rich gentleman waving a pistol? That sounded like Mr. Darcy…
Suddenly, the pieces fell together. This was one of the highwaymen that had attacked her and Jane!
“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” Wickham sighed. “I have since learned a lot more about her family. Her father may be called a gentleman, but he is nearly as impoverished as I. He’s wholly undeserving of the title.”
Elizabeth felt a rush of anger at hearing her father described in such a way. The big man laughed loudly.
But as he laughed, his grip over her mouth shifted, and Elizabeth took her opportunity. She sunk her teeth into the man’s hand, biting him as hard as she could. The man roared with pain and dropped her. Elizabeth ran, and made it several steps before someone caught her wrist in an iron grip. She swung around and saw Wickham holding onto her, his eyes blazing with anger. He dragged her back, deeper into the shadows.
“Quiet!” He barked at the howling man. “Do you want to bring the whole house down on us?”
“She bit me!” The bandit said, holding out his hand toward Wickham. “I’m bleedin’ worse than I have in a long while!”
Elizabeth felt a surge of satisfaction—good! The evil man deserved it after treating her and Jane in such a shameful manner. But her satisfaction was short-lived as the ache in her wrist, still firmly caught in Wickham’s grasp, worsened.
“Why are you doing this?” She begged Wickham. “Please, why are you doing this? I thought we were friends!” For a moment, despite the shadows, Elizabeth thought she saw a look of regret cross Wickham’s face.
“Friends are a luxury I can no longer afford,” Wickham said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked. The big man seemed to have recovered from his wound, and he began to roughly tie her wrists together with a rough cord. Elizabeth winced—he was binding her far too tightly. Wickham laughed bitterly.
“I have debts, dear woman,” he said, a note of desperation in his voice. “Debts that I could not possibly hope to repay on the meagre salary of a militia officer. And my creditors are becoming impatient, and they are far less kind that my friend here.” Wickham’s voice now had a note of hysteria. “I had no choice!”
“So first you become a highwayman, and now a kidnapper,” Elizabeth spat at him, disgusted that a man could sink so low.
“Do not judge me,” Wickham said harshly. “You have no idea what I am facing!”
“You might as well tell me,” Elizabeth said, her fear rising up within her once more. What would Wickham do with her when her father was unable to meet his demands? “Because, as you said, my family is poor. Whatever money you hope to get from us is hardly enough to settle what you owe.”
“I am not planning on ransoming you to your family, you stupid girl,” Wickham said impatiently. “As soon as I saw you together, I knew that I would get what I want. And a measure of revenge to sweeten everything!”
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked, confused. “Who do you think will be willing to pay for my release? If it is not my family’s money you seek, then whose?”
“You clearly are not as clever as everyone said you were,” Wickham said with a harsh laugh. “I thought for certain you would have worked it out by now.” Elizabeth felt her heart sink. The malice in Wickham’s voice told her everything she needed to know. It was not Mr. Bennet or her Uncle Gardiner that Wickham would approach.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth whispered.
“That’s right.” Wickham laughed again.
“You think a man like Mr. Darcy would pay for a woman whom he hardly considers good enough to be his mistress?” Elizabeth hissed. She felt her stomach roil in rebellion against describing herself in such terms. “You said it yourself, I am nothing in h
is eyes. Why would he give you a pound?”
“My goodness,” Wickham drawled. “Are you truly so easily convinced? If I had known you were so easily talked into things, perhaps I would have made the effort to make you my mistress.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of wild anger go through her.
“I would never do such a thing for any man, let alone a despicable man like you!” She hissed.
“I suppose not,” Wickham said, eyeing her up and down. “Besides, you would be entirely too much trouble.”
Elizabeth fought the urge to kick the man. She suspected she would miss and end up on the ground. At present, she felt it was quite important to remain on her feet.
“My dear Elizabeth Bennet,” Wickham continued. “I will tell you my secret: I lie. Frequently. About nearly everything. Including everything I have said about my dear childhood friend, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth felt herself go numb—he had lied about… everything?
“Darcy cannot stand Caroline Bingley,” Wickham said cruelly. “Her teeth stick out and her nose is entirely too long. And he would sooner set sail to the Americas in a rowboat with a hole in the bottom than take a mistress. He is entirely too noble for such things. His father was the same way.” Wickham sighed deeply. “A good thing he never found out how many mistresses I have taken.”
“You are disgusting,” Elizabeth said, feeling as though Wickham’s awfulness was beginning to coat her like a layer of oil. She felt the need to wash. “I suppose your story about the inheritance is not true either!”
“Oh, old Mr. Darcy left me the living of a church,” Wickham drawled. “But can you see me as a vicar? A laughable thought. No, I took the money instead.”
“So Mr. Darcy gave you what you wanted!” Elizabeth said in desperation, hoping to dissuade Wickham from his plan.
“That time,” Wickham said. “But there are still scores to settle. If it weren’t for him, I would be rich and comfortable with his sister as my wife—I’d nearly convinced her to run away to Scotland with me before he ruined everything!”
Rescued by Mr Darcy Page 16