Unforgiving Temper

by Head, Gail

  “Good morning, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth froze at the sight of George Wickham coming toward her. In the next instant, she whirled and started to run, but Wickham was too quick. She didn't get ten feet before his hand came down on her back, knocking her to the ground. She lay stunned by the impact until Wickham grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

  “Is that any way to greet your own brother?” Wickham sneered mockingly, then turned to Bess. “Here you go, my love. Ten pounds, as promised.”

  Deftly catching the pouch of coins, the girl smiled coyly. “Thank you, George. Is there anythin' else you'd be wanting?”

  Elizabeth stared in shocked horror. “Bess! What have you done?”

  “I would think you could see fer yourself! I got me a nice little sum to go to London where I aim to find even more.”

  “How could you!” Elizabeth's anger flared. “After all your parents have done for you – what Mr. Bingley has done for you!”

  “Bess has much grander plans for herself than to be a housemaid all her life, don't you, my girl?” Wickham offered.

  “That's right! No more sweepin' floors and dustin' furniture for me! I work my fingers to the bone only to have me pa take it from me. Well, no more! I can make much more out o' my life in London. George helped me to see that, didn't ya, Sweets.”

  “It is a terrible lie, Bess! He is using you. He thinks only of himself, no one else.” Elizabeth curbed her anger as she tried to coax the girl. “It is not too late. You can do more for yourself by telling my father what has happened. You can stop this!”

  “And stay in this backwater village the rest o' my life? I don't think so.” Bess reached up to Wickham, tracing his cheek with her finger and then kissed him soundly on the mouth. It was obvious she had been one of his conquests.

  Furious at such a shameless betrayal Elizabeth reached out, wanting to shake some sense into the girl. Wickham quickly wrapped his arms around her in a restraining embrace. “Now, now. Is that any way for a lady to act? You had best be on your way, Bess.”

  “Be sure to look me up when you get to town,” Bess murmured as she gave Elizabeth once last disdainful look and then turned away.

  “And now, my dear Elizabeth, we must be off. Your sister is waiting.”

  “Lydia? Where is she?”

  “She is waiting in the carriage. I have something special in store for the two of you.”

  Without warning, Wickham picked Elizabeth up, swung her over his shoulder, and began carrying her deeper into the woods with long, swift strides. Panicked and horrified, she beat her fists against him. Hanging up-side down across his back, her head pounded with the rush of blood and she felt her breath forced from her with every step. In a very few moments, they were swallowed up in a thick tangle of evergreen vines, bare branches, and dead leaves.

  The path they followed wound through the thickly-wooded grove until it emptied onto the western edge of Pettigrew's Meadow. A short trip across the meadow brought them to another stand of trees and then a road. When they reached the road, Wickham pulled Elizabeth down and set her on her feet. It took a moment to clear her head and then she could see her sister's familiar figure standing near a carriage, being watched over by none other than Mrs. Ann Younge! At Elizabeth's appearance, Lydia dashed forward, a steady flow of tears trickling down her face.

  “Oh, Lizzy! I could not say anything at the church. I just couldn't!” she sobbed violently, reaching for her sister. “I am so afraid!”

  Elizabeth gasped at the several red and purple blotches marking her sister's arms. Looking closer, she found more marks only partially visible along Lydia's neckline. Wickham reached out, roughly pulling Lydia to his side. She flinched away from his touch and began crying softly.

  “I told you to stay at the carriage, did I not?”

  “Yes -- yes, you did. I am sorry.”

  “And well you should be.”

  Guiding Elizabeth forward, Wickham calmly returned Lydia to Mrs. Younge's side where she sank to the ground in muted sobs.

  “You must excuse my wife's intemperate outburst. She has found obedience in marriage to be a somewhat difficult lesson to learn.”

  “You are an outrageous brute!” Elizabeth hissed furiously. “How dare you treat my sister as if she were nothing more than a dog to be trained! Our father will not stand for it!”

  “Your father will never know. And even if he did, it means nothing. I have the law. She is MY wife and I may do as I see fit.”

  Elizabeth's chin lifted defiantly. “What is it you want?”

  “What do I want?” he snarled. “I want the fortune that you have cost me. Darcy has robbed me for the last time and I will now have what is my due!”

  Realizing he was losing control, Wickham stopped abruptly, adjusting his waistcoat and visibly setting his composure with a cleansing breath before he continued evenly. “You really should have tried a little harder to become Lady Grissholm, you know. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. You and your sister are now about to meet with an unfortunate accident while admiring the views from Mount Oakham. I am told it can be very treacherous this time of year. Once you are out of the way for good, I shall be rich enough to do as I please for the rest of my life.”

  “You must be mad if you think you will get away with this. You will be found out!”

  “I do not think so. A man can hide for a very long time if he has enough money. Now then, we can do this as swiftly as possible, or we can make this difficult. It is up to you. In any case, I shall at last have my revenge.”

  Elizabeth stood her ground even though her heart thudded in her chest and her mind raced furiously. She would not willingly allow herself and Lydia to be murdered. She would not be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

  Feigning compliance, she slowly moved to Lydia and raised her from the ground. Facing away from Wickham, she pulled Lydia close in a comforting embrace, and whispered into her ear. “You must have courage now. He will not hurt you ever again. When I release you, take the path I came on and run home as fast as you can. He will not risk losing me to catch you. Run home to father and tell him what has happened. I am counting on you to be brave. Can you do that?”

  Sniffling into Elizabeth's shoulder, Lydia nodded slowly once.

  “Here we go, then,” Elizabeth murmured softly. “Remember, as fast as you can!”

  With that, Elizabeth stepped back and turned to face Wickham just as Lydia bolted up the road toward the grove.

  “What the devil?!” Wickham shouted in surprise and instantly started in pursuit. He had not run a dozen steps, however, before stopping and whirling on Elizabeth; but it was too late. She had sprinted in the opposite direction the second he had started after Lydia, leaving a startled Ann Younge in her wake.

  Elizabeth raced down the road as fast as she could, spurred on by the sound of Wickham's anger exploding behind her. Her foot painfully struck the sharp edge of a stone that jutted from the road, making her wish for a sturdy pair of walking shoes instead of the thin-soled slippers she now wore. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot up her leg with every step, she ran on, her only thought being to reach the berry thicket she had played in as a child.

  She forced her legs to go faster, the beat of her heart pulsing in her ears and her breath coming in hard, ragged pants. One foot fell rhythmically in front of the other, every step bringing her closer to the thick, protective mounds of thorny branches that would conceal her from Wickham. The road ahead curved and then sloped down, giving her a few precious moments out of Wickham's view.

  The ground was saturated from the recent downpour that she had worried would ruin Jane's wedding day. She rushed headlong, nearly losing her footing on the grassy slope more than once. Reaching the bottom, she could hear Wickham thrashing through the brush above her as she splashed across a little stream and lunged into the tangle of branches that bordered it. Heedless of the sharp thorns that tore at her, she moved deeper into the brambles and crouched behind a fall
en tree as his voice rang out in a tone of strained patience.

  “You have nowhere to go, my dear. Do not make this difficult.”

  She could hear his progress down the incline, punctuated by an infuriated oath as he hit a particularly slippery spot and went down. “You will regret this, I'll bloody well make certain of it!” he swore fiercely. Had he seen her? Elizabeth froze where she was, feeling the angry scratches that throbbed on her arms and neck. She could feel brambles pulling at her hair. Still, she dared not move as she gulped shallow gasps of air, trying to catch her breath and praying he would not hear her.

  There were more oaths as he finally reached the bottom and began searching the thicket. Branches stirred and twigs snapped sending her heart racing at every sound. Once, the sight of Wickham's green jacket through the tangle of branches stopped her very breath and then he turned in another direction. After what seemed an eternity, the sounds of his searching slowly began to grow more distant.

  When she gauged Wickham to be at a safe distance, she crept out from her hiding spot and made a run for it along the brook toward Longbourn and away from him. Stumbling on the slick, rocky bank, her coat caught on a branch and she hastily yanked it free, tearing the thin woolen fabric. She began to strip it off, but stopped as soon as she saw the brighter yellow muslin beneath that had not been darkened by mud and brambles. She wrapped the coat tightly around herself, hoping the now dingy golden yellow she had thought so lovely for the wedding celebration would not give her away amidst the stark brown and gray foliage.

  A loud snap sounded behind her and Elizabeth darted into a thicket of Blackthorn, pushing her way into its sheltering branches and shredding the last bits of her thin leather gloves. Cold and now very wet from crossing the stream, she crouched low and stifled a gasp as she saw her feet. Her hasty retreat down the rock-strewn bank had re-opened the gash on her foot and now rivulets of muddy water dripping from her petticoat mixed with the oozing blood. In horror, Elizabeth's eyes followed an unmistakable trail of blood which led directly from the riverbank to her hiding place. She could now hear Wickham coming along the riverbank as well. He would not miss it! There was nothing to be done but make another run for it. She prayed her superior knowledge of the grove would give her the advantage she needed to elude him.

  Quickly, she sprang from her hiding place and darted through the trees. She could hear Wickham's growl and the crashing sounds of his pursuit. Staying to the more dense parts of the overgrown wood, she ran in a wide turning arc that would bring her back to the stream and the quickest route to Longbourn. Fearful that every noise was Wickham about to pounce on her, she pressed on until she could go no further without a short rest. She paused beside the gnarled limbs of a towering hazel tree, casting furtive glances around as she struggled to catch her breath. Straining to hear any sign of her pursuer, all she could hear was her own labored breathing and pounding heart.

  With another steadying breath, she stepped out, ready to continue her run when suddenly, she felt the weight of a hand on her back, grabbing her coat and pulling her backward. Before she could gain her balance, Wickham captured her arm in a brutal grip, forcing a startled cry of pain from her and angrily whirling her around hard enough to make her head spin.

  The sleeve of his coat and leg of his trousers were coated with mud and debris, and a deep scratch crusted with dried blood scored his forehead, disappearing into his disheveled hair. He drew her close, speaking with a chilling sharpness. “Did you really think you could escape me, madam? Try that again and you will find, in the little time you have left, that I can be very disagreeable.”

  Without another word, he turned and pulled Elizabeth roughly behind him, ignoring her attempts to break free. He deftly navigated his way back to the brook and then followed its course back to the slope. Flinging Elizabeth to the ground ahead of him, he ordered her to ascend.

  “Why should I? You plan to kill me in any case.”

  “You are still valuable as a bargaining tool should we find anyone waiting for us at the carriage. Now get going!”

  “No! If I am to die, it might as well be here!”

  When she refused to move, he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back and pulling at her skirts.

  “I told you this can be as difficult as you choose to make it. If you do not start up this hill immediately, I shall be happy to add one more injury to the damages listed when your body is discovered! Not a very fitting memory to leave your family, is it?”

  Knowing the threat was not idle, Elizabeth slapped his hand from her dress and turned to climb the hill, Wickham following close behind. When they reached the road, Wickham stopped to catch his breath while keeping Elizabeth's arm firmly in his grasp.

  “You cannot possibly succeed in this,” she huffed, trying to catch her own breath after the precipitous climb. “Lydia must be home by now. It is only a matter of minutes before they will come, you know – my father, Mr. Bingley.” She took another deep breath. “And I am willing to wager Mr. Darcy will be in the party. Do you really want to face that possibility?”

  “You forget I have the element of surprise in my favor – and a considerable head start. Your father's health being what it is, I imagine it will take time for the party to form – that is, if the strain doesn't bring on another attack. Do you really think he is in any condition to leap on a horse, come to save you, and live to tell the tale?”

  A fresh surge of dread gripped Elizabeth. The excitement of Lydia's abused condition and news of her own abduction would certainly have an adverse effect on her father's health. He was right, but she would never give him the satisfaction of giving up.

  “Nevertheless, Lydia will expose you and they will come. If you have any hopes of escaping, I advise you to give up this scheme and leave now.”

  “You are too hopeful by half, my dear. I am leaving, but not until my business is finished. I have every intention of collecting a very large fortune by you.”

  His hand still wrapped around Elizabeth's arm, Wickham started for the carriage at an alarming rate. The nearer they came to the carriage, the more she struggled against him. She was certain that once they reached the carriage, they would be too far ahead of any rescue party to be found in time. She tugged against his unyielding grasp again and again, resisting their advance as they walked.

  After a particularly vigorous pull, she felt him slow his pace then stop altogether, turning to her with a low growl. “I have had enough of this!”

  With blinding speed, Wickham struck her across the cheek, delivering a second blow with the backswing of his hand. Elizabeth choked back a stunned cry. Raising her free hand, she gingerly stroked the burning pain in her face and the recollection of the appalling marks she had seen earlier on Lydia loomed in her mind.

  Wickham's menacing snarl underscored her mounting fear, “Now, we shall make our way to the carriage, and if you give me any further trouble I shall make good on my promise! Do you understand?” At her unwilling nod, he resumed his pace with a satisfied smirk. “I see you are a much better student than your sister.”

  * * * *

  Coming up short in the middle of the little glen, Darcy stood in the stirrups and surveyed the divergent paths ahead, irritated with himself. Could I have taken the wrong direction? Am I too late? He turned his mount, considering his options. If only there was something to give direction!

  At that moment, a faint sound of distress resonated in the woods to his right. Responding immediately, Darcy launched into the grove at full gallop, dodging the branches and shrubs blocking his advance. Rounding a blind turn, he barely had time to grapple with the reins and rear his horse back, narrowly missing the terrified figure directly in front of him. Darcy brought the animal to bear and looked down, seeing Lydia Wickham's tear-stained face frozen in fear at very nearly being trampled.

  Jumping from the saddle, Darcy grabbed Lydia's shoulders, shaking her from her terrified trance. “Mrs. Wickham! Have you seen your sister? Is Wickham here?”

&
nbsp; Darcy's torrent of questions was lost in Lydia's hysterical sobs. “He was going to kill us…I am so sorry! I did not want to leave her there alone! Lizzy made me go!”

  Shaking her again, Darcy peered into the anguished face. “Madam, calm yourself! Where…is…Elizabeth?”

  Lydia sniffed loudly and shuddered, staring at Darcy as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, Mr. Darcy – you are here? But where is my father?! She needs Papá!” Fresh tears bubbled up with more frantic sobs. “He is going to kill her! He is going to throw her off the mount!”

  Ignoring the gaping hole Lydia's report had ripped through his gut, Darcy forced himself to focus. “You must tell me – where are they?”

  Lydia waved her hand distractedly in the direction she had come. “There…on the road…but they will not be there. He has a carriage. She is lost and it is all my fault!”

  “Listen to me,” Darcy commanded as evenly as he could. “You can help Elizabeth by getting to Longbourn with all possible speed. Tell your father and Mr. Bingley to come at once. Do you understand? With all possible speed!”

  Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, Lydia nodded briskly, at last appearing to be coherent. “Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy, I will hurry! I promised Lizzy. I will bring them at once!”

  In the next instant, Darcy was astride his horse, giving a quick look behind him to confirm the girl was indeed on her way.

  He urged the horse forward, silently cursing the narrow, unfamiliar path that slowed his progress. Just as he was beginning to think Lydia had misdirected him in her agitated state, he came to the road. Free of the trees, the horse pranced impatiently as Darcy's eyes swept in both directions.

  To the right, the road lay empty. To the left, he saw a carriage standing at a distance and beyond it, Wickham and Elizabeth making their way along the edge of the road. He began to calculate how long it would take the rest of the party from Longbourn to arrive. In the next instant, all other thoughts were obliterated from Darcy's mind as he saw Wickham stop abruptly and lash out at Elizabeth, striking her viciously. A roar of wild fury ripped from Darcy's throat drawing Wickham's head up in alarm. Wickham scrutinized the horse and rider bearing down on him and then bolted for the carriage, dragging Elizabeth behind him.