by Head, Gail
* * * *
Elizabeth could barely keep her feet under her as Wickham threw her into the carriage with a vicious jerk that nearly dislocated her arm and shouted a menacing command to be silent. Ann Younge scrambled in after her, and took hold of her arm. Wickham hurriedly climbed into the driver's seat, his foot nearly missing the step in his haste.
“Hang on! Darcy is coming.”
“Darcy?!” Ann cried.
Without looking back, Wickham quickly gathered the reins and wound them through his fingers. “Yes, I should have known he would try to cheat me again. Hold on, we shall have to make a mad dash of it.”
Elizabeth looked up to see a single horse and rider bearing down from behind. Was it really him? It was! An overwhelming flood of love and relief filled her heart and blurred her vision. He had come! Anxiously she searched the road behind him. Was he alone? Where were the others? It was far too dangerous for one man!
With a loud “Ha!” Wickham slapped the reins, startling the horses forward in a sudden lurch which sent the ladies toppling onto the rear cushions.
Ann Younge let go of Elizabeth with a shriek. “George, what are you doing?!”
“Hang on – and don't let her get away,” he yelled in response as his hand fumbled in his coat pocket. Elizabeth watched in horror as he retrieved a flintlock pistol.
“No!” she screamed, her panicked cry lost in the clattering of the carriage.
Scrambling onto the back seat, she could see Darcy closing in. She was opening her mouth to warn him of the gun when Ann Younge's hand came down over her face, pulling her back down in an attempt to regain her hold. Blocking Younge's hands with her arms, Elizabeth twisted away, then pushed the woman back to the other seat. Mrs. Younge leapt at Elizabeth again, this time succeeding in capturing one arm and clutched it tenaciously.
The pair of horses pulling the landau raced down the lane with increasing speed, causing the aging coach to veer dangerously. After several tries to extricate herself from Younge's unyielding grasp, Elizabeth finally fisted her free hand and swung with all her might, connecting fist to face with a force that brought a painful cry from both women. Mrs. Younge let go and fell back against the seat in a stunned daze. Elizabeth looked back to warn Darcy, but he was not there! She saw him then, at the front of the carriage, reaching for the horses. A movement from Wickham caught her attention and she stared in horror as he leveled the pistol at Darcy.
Chapter 32
Darcy could see Elizabeth trying to tell him something, but the pounding hooves and rattling carriage drowned out her words and then Mrs. Younge pulled her down. He had to stop the carriage! Urging his mount forward, he closed in on the team of horses pulling the carriage. When he was even with the mismatched pair, Darcy leaned out, reaching for the traces in an attempt to draw them down.
Taking a quick glance at Wickham, his hand instantly froze. He could not hear the sound, but he could see Wickham laughing wildly, a pistol in his hand and a gleeful expression playing on his face. Above the clatter, he heard a horrified shriek. A distant part of his mind told him it was Elizabeth, the woman he loved and would never have the chance to marry – and instead of saving her, he would die right before her eyes.
There was no time to dodge and no chance of escape at such close range. Darcy watched helplessly as Wickham took aim at his chest, his eyes wild and gloating. Suddenly, he saw Wickham pitch forward as the gun fired, sending a puff of smoke into the air, and Elizabeth was there pulling at Wickham's arm! In the same instant, the bullet slammed into his shoulder, nearly knocking him from his horse.
His hand slid through the horse's mane and he frantically clutched at the coarse strands, barely managing to catch himself. Straining against the pounding gait that threatened to loosen his grip, he gritted his teeth against the searing pain in his shoulder and pulled himself back into the saddle. One quick downward glance revealed a dark, wet stain spreading across his shoulder from beneath the ragged hole in his coat. If not for Elizabeth's intervention, he had no doubt it would have been his heart.
Darcy looked back just in time to see Wickham deliver a powerful blow to Elizabeth with his fist sending her tumbling backwards into the carriage. Outraged and helpless, he watched her disappear from sight.
Even more desperate now to save Elizabeth, Darcy reached again for the traces and then had to pull back, ducking just as Wickham furiously hurled the discharged pistol at him across the panicked horses. When Darcy reached a third time, Wickham attacked with the carriage whip in a frenzied passion that verged on madness. Responding to the crack of the whip, the horses pushed harder, dashing forward at a furious pace. Wickham's lash fell again and again, cutting lines across Darcy's back and arm, and opening a small cut above his eye before he managed to catch the whip and halt Wickham's assault.
He jerked on the whip, trying to disarm Wickham, to no avail. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he moved ahead, yanking fiercely and pulling Wickham forward off his seat. Another wrenching tug pulled Wickham off balance against the footboard and he was forced to let go of the whip in order to catch himself.
Wickham started to regain his seat on the bench, giving Darcy a triumphant, sneering look, just as the forward wheel of the carriage struck a rut in the lane, pitching the carriage violently and throwing him forward with such force he had no chance to stop his fall. Clawing viciously at the footboard as he slid down its front, Wickham's legs were caught by the flaying hooves, and he was pulled under. A wild, feral scream rose above the thundering hooves as he disappeared beneath the carriage. Three heavy thumps sounded under the coach before it sped on with increasing speed.
* * * *
Shaking her head to ease the ringing in her ears and throbbing in her cheek, Elizabeth struggled to pick herself up from the floor of the careening carriage where she had landed. The last thing she had seen was a puff of smoke rising from the gun in Wickham's hand and Darcy reeling from the impact of the bullet. Panicked at the thought of what had happened, she was scrambling forward when several loud thumps sounded beneath her feet. Frantically, she looked to Darcy's horse and gasped in relief when she saw that he was still there.
Ann Younge screamed and Elizabeth turned back to see the woman gaping in stunned disbelief at the sight of a bloodied and broken heap on the road behind them. Wickham was gone! With no driver, the horses now had their head and were running wildly down the road. Determined to save herself, Elizabeth moved quickly. She had to try to stop them before they overturned the carriage!
She worked her way forward again, picking herself up each time she was thrown back down by violent lurches. Finally getting onto the forward seat of the carriage, she pulled herself up behind the driver's bench. Holding tight with one hand and ignoring Darcy's horrified expression, she leaned over, stretching precariously across the very place Wickham had been sitting moments before, refusing to think of the gruesome consequences should she fail in her attempt. She reached her free hand toward the driverless traces, but they lay just beyond her reach. Shifting her weight, she stretched further, grazing the leather traces with her fingertips. Another violent lurch of the carriage forced her to grab the seat iron surrounding the bench with both hands to keep from falling and before she could try again, another bounce freed the reins from the footboard, sending them sliding to the road below and leaving the frenzied horses to run with no way to check them.
Looking around for another means of bringing the equipage to a halt, Elizabeth quickly dismissed any possibility of help from Mrs. Younge who now sat in a bewildered stupor, seemingly oblivious to anything. Turning to Darcy, she found him next to the carriage, working to match his horse with its increasingly riotous pace. Motioning to the coachman's bench, she shouted to make herself heard above the deafening sounds of galloping horses and rattling carriage.
“The reins – I cannot reach them! Can you?”
“No, they are gone under!” Darcy's booming voice came in reply. “The horses have their head now – there is no st
opping them.” His eyes measured the unsteady carriage apprehensively. “You must get off now! The carriage is going too fast to make the next turn!”
Elizabeth looked anxiously at the sharp turn that was rapidly approaching.
“I cannot jump. It is going too fast!” she called over the rumble of the wheels.
“Can you get yourself to the side?”
“Yes, I think so.” Holding tightly to the driver's bench and fighting the sway of the carriage, Elizabeth inched her way to the edge of the seat, barely managing to stay upright.
Darcy guided his galloping horse next to the carriage and Elizabeth reached for his outstretched hand. A surge of elation flooded her heart as she felt his fingers close around hers. She leaned toward him, ready to be caught up in his arms, a trusting, fearless faith burning in her eyes.
In the next instant, she cried out in terror. Mrs. Younge had leapt from her seat, roughly grabbing Elizabeth's ankle. “Oh, no you don't! You're not leaving me to die alone!” she shrieked, her eyes wild with desperation and fury.
Elizabeth's hand was nearly torn from Darcy's grip and he tightened his hold. Panic enveloped her as she stretched precariously between Darcy and Mrs. Younge's tenacious hold.
“Release her, Mrs. Younge,” Darcy bellowed vehemently.
He leaned into his saddle, gripping the horse with his legs alone and twisted around to grab Elizabeth's hand more firmly with both of his.
“Not a chance!” Ann screamed back, tightening her hold. “You killed George! An eye for an eye, Darcy!”
“Then I shall be happy to repay my debt!” Elizabeth exclaimed furiously as she lashed out with her other foot, delivering a powerful kick that landed squarely in Mrs. Younge's face. With a strangled cry Ann fell backwards against the cushions, Elizabeth's muddy slipper clutched in her hands. Instantly, Darcy pulled hard, bringing Elizabeth across the breach and safely onto his lap.
His arms securely around her, Elizabeth could not stop trembling as Darcy brought the horse to a halt.
“Are you all right?” he whispered softly.
“Yes,” she murmured, reveling in the feeling of his nearness as she clung tightly to his neck. “I am now.”
She felt him draw a deep breath before loosening his hold on her. “I must help Mrs. Younge if she will let me. Will you be all right?”
Elizabeth looked at the driverless carriage careening toward the turn at full speed, Mrs. Younge clinging to the side with her bloodied face twisted in mute horror. Before Darcy could move to lift her down, Elizabeth gasped, “Oh, no! It is too late!”
He followed her gaze and they both watched as the carriage reached the turn at full speed. It veered dangerously, teetering on two wheels as it disappeared from sight. For a brief moment the air was filled with an eerie silence, followed immediately by Mrs. Younge's piercing scream and then a loud splintering crash. Darcy spurred the horse forward.
As they approached the devastating scene, they could hear low, muffled groans coming from somewhere near the wreckage. It did not take long to find Ann Younge sprawled in the shallow ditch that lined the road, her right leg bent at an unnatural angle. Covered in mud, she had a large scrape on her forehead and the cut on her lip she had received from Elizabeth's kick was bleeding freely. The sleeve of her coat was shredded, revealing a long, ragged scrape the length of her arm. Elizabeth was amazed the woman was still alive. Darcy swung down to assess her injuries.
“Don't touch me!” Ann spat viciously, holding a cut and swollen hand out against him. “I don't want your bloody help!”
Darcy stepped back. “Very well then. We shall send someone back for you.”
“Perhaps I should stay with her,” Elizabeth whispered when he returned to the horse. “She does not look well at all.”
“Absolutely not! The woman tried to kill you not three minutes ago.”
“Yes, I know; but look at her. She can barely move.”
“Nevertheless, it is out of the question. I do not trust her for one minute. After this latest scheme with Wickham, she is destined for Newgate and will be desperate to save herself. It would not be safe for you to be alone with her in any condition.”
“Very well, if you must be so stubborn, then let us hurry. She is in a great deal of pain.”
Darcy mounted, settling Elizabeth on his lap once more. As he put his arms around her, she turned to look into his face.
“Should we check on Mr. Wickham as well before we go? Mr. Jones may need additional supplies.”
Darcy thought of the mangled, motionless body slumped in the road around the bend and quietly replied, “There is no need. Wickham fell directly beneath the wheels and will not be needing a doctor – now or ever again.”
Hearing Darcy's pronouncement, Ann Younge burst into tears. “You couldn't stand to see us happy, could you?! All he ever wanted was a chance to make something of himself and you hated him for that! Your bloody pride was more important.”
“As soon as Miss Bennet is taken care of, I shall send someone back for you,” Darcy announced as he turned away.
He ignored the bitter curses that followed him until he was well around the next bend in the road and thought of Wickham. He could not pretend to grieve for the man who had caused so much pain in his life, but he would be sad for a wasted life; one that could have been more worthwhile had his childhood companion chosen to do more than squander it in the pursuit of idle pleasures. If Mrs. Younge had indeed loved Wickham, it had not been enough to alter the man.
He took a deep cleansing breath and tightened his arms around Elizabeth, allowing himself a slight smile when she leaned back against him in response. She was safe.
For a while, they rode in silence, neither willing to break the enchanted spell that enveloped them. At length Darcy peered down at Elizabeth, wincing at the angry scratches and her torn and muddy clothing. With her slipper now gone, he could see her injured foot as well and he stifled an angry growl, wishing he could take away the cruelty she had once more suffered for his sake. He raised a hand, lightly tracing the large purple mark that was rising on her cheek where Wickham had struck her.
“It will heal,” was her only response.
“I should have known,” he lamented. “I should have done more to protect you from the start.”
“You are too severe on yourself, sir. It was I who trusted the girl and followed her.”
Darcy looked down. “Yes, but it was only because you thought I sent her.”
She straightened in his arms and looked at him. “I will not allow you to take any blame in this.”
“You are a stubborn woman,” he chided, shaking his head at the fierce determination in her upturned face. His look dropped briefly to her lips, then rose to search the depths of her eyes. “Elizabeth – ?”
She returned his gaze with a wide, unwaveringly look of her own, giving him the answer to his unspoken question. Bending slowly, he brushed her lips with his own. Her quick intake of breath fed his desire and he kissed her again, tightening his arms around her and bringing a painful reminder of his injured shoulder. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold, pleased at the delightfully self-conscious glow the kiss had generated in Elizabeth.
They continued on without speaking until Darcy realized with growing alarm that Elizabeth's silence was laden with tears.
“Are you in pain? Shall I slow the pace?” He shifted in the saddle, loosening his hold a little. “Shall I walk and give you more room?”
“No, no – I am in much less pain than you, I imagine,” she said, wiping at her tears and cautiously drawing his arm back to her. “I was just thinking of Mr. Wickham. I have never seen anyone injured so horribly and this whole dreadful affair will ruin Jane's beautiful wedding day. It is all so awful. Why could I not have prevented it?!”
“You could not have done anything to prevent Wickham from doing what he did. He specifically chose this day on purpose. At least he can do no more harm – to anyone.”
“Yes, that is true, but unfortu
nately for Jane, he has given our neighbors one last scandal to gossip about.” She sighed thoughtfully. “There will be many details to attend to regarding this matter; and of course, it will prevent your calling tomorrow morning.”
“I beg to differ, my dear Miss Bennet. I have every intention of keeping our appointment.”
“As much as I would like it, you cannot! I think we must wait awhile. This scandal will not be concealed and it will take some time for it to be forgot.”
“I shall come nevertheless. You cannot keep me away. Wickham kept us apart far too long when he was alive and I will not allow him to continue doing so in death! I beg you will not make me wait any longer.” With a sudden thought, he whispered in her ear once again. “If need be, I shall apply to your mother. I am certain I will find vast encouragement from that quarter.”
“Sir! I beg you do not!” Elizabeth cried in genuine alarm.
“Then look for me first thing in the morning. You have promised me an interview, and no power short of heaven itself will prevent me from posing the question I have long desired to ask you.”
Elizabeth drew a shuddering breath and leaned back against him once more. “Very well. I see that you cannot be persuaded otherwise.”
“I am happy to see you are not so stubborn in all things,” Darcy smiled, lifting her chin and kissing her gently. “And come to think of it, you really should be more concerned about what Caroline Bingley may say rather than any of your neighborhood scandal-mongers.”
He enjoyed the little furrow his words put in her brow as she turned to him. “Why Caroline Bingley?”
“Because, my dear, you should have heard her complain about your petticoats last year, after you had walked to Netherfield! If she sees you like THIS…well, do you really want to give her the satisfaction?”