by Glenna Mason
“Why are you here? How did you know?”
“The day you left Century Gate, I sent a notice to my solicitors that you were on your way to London. I had already sent them directions to turn your money over to you. I wanted immediate action on this, so fortunately I sent the second missive.
“A messenger arrived after I went to bed last night—a runner sent by my solicitor in London. By some quirk of fate, I got up very early this morning—no doubt some augur sent to me through Darcy’s correctly foreboding presentiments. I opened the letter even before my tea. It informed me that over a week from your purported arrival time, you had not been seen at the London townhouse. As you well know, I received a note from you stating that you had in fact gotten there.
“I jumped on Prince of the Moon and flew across the fields to Darcy’s. He was in the middle of his shave. Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. None of the staff would say where she was. They were in on her little secret present for Darcy. Darcy finally had to take Mrs. Reynolds into his confidence, regarding his foreboding that Elizabeth was in danger from you—YOU, my own sister. How could you attack my best friend’s wife, who is in turn my wife’s sister!?” he shouted with unassailable fury.
“We barely made it. This is attempted murder. Darcy and I both saw you push Elizabeth over the side of the mountain,” Bingley ended, scowling and moving away.
Caroline swiped her hand across her painted face; white and black combined to give her a Harlequin countenance—quite appropriate in one so bizarre.
Darcy rose over the side of the cliff, giving a sigh of relief. Elizabeth flew into his arms. “Careful, my darling. We don’t want to go back over.” They remained in each other’s arms, humming the “Hallelujahs” from the chorus by Handel.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “No more paintings of caves in the Peaks to remind you of Mama’s visit, for this lady. I guess I’ll have to paint Wickham on horseback instead for your Christmas.”
The Darcys twirled around in indescribable joy. “Tolerable idea, my dear.” She picked up a brush and threw it at him. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to his horse.
“Jeremy, tie Mrs. Darcy’s horse to the cart please. We’re going home together.”
As the two rode off, Elizabeth lay her head on Darcy’s shoulder. Her last view was of Bingley insisting that Caroline ride in the cart. Apparently he didn’t trust her on horseback.
*****
That night in bed in each other’s arms Elizabeth said, “You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Almost from our first dinner together, I’ve had a premonition that you were in danger—that in fact your acquaintance with me was bringing you peril. And it was an accurate foreboding, first Wickham and finally Caroline.”
“Finally?”
“It’s gone now.”
She snuggled into his side. “Good.” Sleepily laying her head on his chest, she asked, “And Caroline?”
“Bingley will have to commit her or hire constant attendance and surveillance. The doctors and the courts will decide.”
“I feel sorry for her. I may have cuts and bruises and a knot on my head, but I have love and family. She has alienated everyone who might have cared.”
“Yes, it’s sad. Charles and Louisa did their best, but they’re tired.”
“Yes, anyone would be.”
“We must look forward now, Elizabeth.”
“Certainly. Now there’s only Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine,” she whispered, as she wrapped her arm around his chest and snuggled in closer, smiling to herself.
“Oh, no!”