by Emma Osborne
“Yes! A capital idea, Darcy. I will go and visit Colonel Forster at once. He will surely be able to recommend some sturdy men to accompany us. We will go on horseback into the woods and flush out these beasts. If we can drive them into the open, they can be dealt with. I will not leave my horses vulnerable. Think of the deer! Louisa would be heartbroken to hear of the mess that was found this morning.” Darcy nodded slowly in agreement. He had forgotten about the discovery of the ruined deer. The gamekeeper had been most distressed at the doe’s demise. The creature had been pregnant, and there was little that Charles could do to console the man.
“Fine. We will visit Colonel Forster, and we will settle this. If we find nothing, you must promise me that you will forget this nonsense. Promise me, Charles.” However, his friend was not listening, and Darcy sighed with frustration as he watched Charles retrieve his coat and hat. “Do you mean to leave now?”
“Of course I do, get your coat Darcy. We will ride out immediately. There is no time to waste.” Darcy shook his head and drank the remainder of his tea before pulling his jacket from where he had draped it over the back of the chair he had intended to sit in to read his letters that his valet had forwarded from London. Charles was already striding from the room as he tugged his jacket over his shoulders. He had been meaning to go to the stables to check on the grey mare that had been attacked, and this was as good an excuse to delay their departure as any. With a longing look at his letters, Darcy let out a furious breath and followed his friend towards the stables.
* * *
Darcy had waylaid them enough to check on the grey mare’s injuries and speak to the head groom and Charles was desperate to leave. The stable boy that Miss Bennet had tended had been moved to the servants’ quarters, and the doctor was due to visit later this afternoon to see to his injuries. The bite wound in the boy’s shoulder was the worst of his injuries, and the lad had still not awakened from the dose of poppy tea he had been given.
Charles had set the pace and they galloped at breakneck speed towards the Meryton garrison. Their arrival had drawn strange looks from the assembled officers, but the intense scrutiny of the Prussian officers unsettled Darcy the most. They stood together at the edge of the parade grounds as he and Charles had approached, their dark eyes burning. Their leader, for what else could he have been, stood a head taller than the largest man, and his pale gaze followed their progress sharply. Darcy gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead as they walked.
“I do not like the look of those Prussians.” Darcy winced. Charles’ loudly hissed whisper must have carried on the wind, and Darcy was sure that the men had heard him, but he could not bring himself to turn his head and confirm it by reading a change in their body language. He could feel their animosity burning across the parade ground and he quickened his pace, fairly leaping up the stairs that led to Colonel Forster’s office.
The man was seated behind a wide wooden desk that was strewn with dispatches and papers, many of which were stained with wine and food. Darcy tried to hide his disdain for the man and the militia in general, but it was difficult to keep his thoughts from showing on his face, a fault that Georgiana had often scolded him about.
He left Charles to do the talking, and Colonel Forster had been most eager for the escapade, but Darcy suspected that the man’s eagerness was due to his desire to exonerate his own beloved Irish Wolfhounds from the list of suspects. Darcy found the entire exercise tiresome, and was grateful for the final agreement of three stalwart officers who would lend their eyes and firearms to the hunt.
“Excellent. I am most grateful for your support, Colonel Forster. Please have the officers meet at the Netherfield Park stables at dusk, and we will go together into the forest and flush the beasts out into the open.” The men shook hands emphatically, and Colonel Forster seemed almost as excited by the prospect of the hunt as Charles did. Darcy, however, was taken aback by his friend’s announcement. When they were walking back towards their waiting horses, Darcy could no longer keep his disbelief to himself.
“Dusk? Charles you must be mad! I am not taking my horse into those woods after dark!” Darcy kept his voice low, so as not to alert anyone else to their conversation, but Charles waved away his protest with a confident gesture.
“Nonsense, Darcy! We will catch the creature unawares! They are most active at night, and we may not find them during the day. At dusk we will find them at their leisure and take them with ease. I have no doubt that this will be quickly resolved.” Darcy shook his head, dumbfounded at his friend’s careless approach. This would not end well. He was sure of it. Charles, however, was beyond the point of accepting his advice.
The Prussian officers were still standing on the parade ground, and Darcy avoided their intense stares. He could feel their eyes on his back as they mounted their horses and spurred them forward, but he said nothing to Charles, who was clearly lost in his own thoughts. Darcy gritted his teeth. The hunt would be a disaster. He could feel it.
Chapter 9
As the sun began to set, Charles and Darcy waited in the stable yard for the garrison officers. The excitement that had spurred Charles through the morning had not faded, and he spoke intensely with the head groom as their horses were saddled. Charles had directed the man to fashion some leather greaves for the horse’s lower legs, “to protect them from those nasty teeth,” and Darcy had not argued with him. The last thing he wanted was for Charles to be right, and to have his horse injured during the hunt.
“Come now, Darcy, you cannot be nervous.” Darcy stopped his pacing and looked over at his friend.
“Hardly. You know I am no stranger to the hunt, but this is different, Charles. You are chasing after shadows.” The smile on his friend’s face did not waver, and Darcy’s frustration with Charles’ blind determination grew. He pressed his lips together in a hard line and did not care if Charles could see his annoyance.
Charles gave a shout at the sound of approaching hoof beats and Darcy checked his horse’s tack quickly before swinging himself into the saddle. His horse champed at the bit and whinnied at the approaching horses as they cantered around the corner of the house carrying three officers in dark green jackets. Darcy was surprised to see Colonel Forster’s bulk among them, and wondered how much help he would be in this search.
“Excellent! Excellent. You are right on time, Colonel. Thank you for coming.” Charles shook the Colonel’s hand and then mounted his own horse and taking a musket from the head groom. A group of grooms and stable boys gathered, each carrying a torch, which they set about lighting. They would walk ahead of the riders; the smell and light of the torches should serve to drive the beasts out of their hiding places. Darcy waved away the musket he was offered, and took a torch instead. When the groom looked at him questioningly, he pulled aside a leather flap on his saddle to reveal the long knife that was strapped there. The groom nodded and backed away, offering the musket to the head groom instead. The gamekeeper, a Mr. Talbot, stood nearby, loading his own musket. Charles cleared his throat and put his finger to his lips to blow a piercing whistle.
“I thank you for coming gentlemen. With your help, we will be able to put a stop to the harassment of my estate, and the creatures that call it home. We are on the hunt for whatever unwelcome beast has taken up residence here. We will flush them out into the open and dispatch them without mercy. Come now, gentlemen! Into the forest!” The officers shouted their support for Charles’ words, but Darcy stayed silent. This would not end well, and he reminded himself that he was only going along to protect Charles. Nothing more. He would take no part in the harming of any animal. If there were any animals to be found.
A stable boy reached up to light Darcy’s torch with his own, and Darcy wrinkled his nose at the smell. His horse pranced lightly as the torch caught fire, and he spurred it forward. There was no time for nervousness now. Charles and the officers led the group, and Darcy hung back with the grooms as they moved towards the tree line.
At the edge o
f the trees, they paused briefly as the grooms and stable boys spread out ahead of them, torches held high and sturdy sticks, usually reserved for flushing birds from the underbrush, held in firm grips.
With a shout, Charles brandished his musket and charged into the woods, eager for the chase; the officers followed close behind, cries of encouragement on their own lips. Looking slightly wary, Colonel Forster hefted his rifle and spurred his horse forward and Darcy shook his head before exchanging a nod with Mr. Talbot. He entered the forest at a slower pace; grateful for the light of the torch he carried.
The sun had not yet set, but under the canopy, it had already darkened and the air was close. Night birds and animals had begun to stir, and Darcy listened carefully. Beyond the shouts of the officers, he could hear something else, but he could not place the noise.
The feeling of unease that he had carried with him throughout the day intensified, and the possibility that they were being watched, even as their search began, washed over him in a cold wave. Darcy steeled himself against his emotions, knowing that his mount would be able to sense his unease, and the last thing he needed was a panicked horse in a situation like this. He had to keep his head.
A commotion in the underbrush ahead of them drew shouts from the officers who urged their horses forward to investigate. The stable boys poked and slashed at the bush with their sticks and shook the flames of their torches at the shadows in the trees, daring anything to show its face.
Without warning, one of the officers gave a strangled cry as a dark shape leapt out of the trees and knocked him from his horse. Darcy winced as he heard the man hit the ground hard. He spurred his horse forward and he arrived just in time to see the creature that pinned the man to the dirt tear at his throat, cutting of his choked screams with one snap of its great jaws.
Darcy’s eyes widened as the animal looked up at him, its muzzle dripping with gore. He saw sharp white teeth, and a ghostly pale gaze that held him frozen in place. His veins were filled with ice and before he could react, the beast was gone, tearing through the trees. The officer’s horse screamed its terror into the gathering dark and galloped through the forest away from them.
“Get the horse! Darcy! Did you see it? Where did it go?” Darcy shook his head, dazed by the scene before him. The grooms rushed forward to examine the fallen officer, but it was clear that the man was dead. “Darcy!” Charles reined his horse alongside him, ignoring the animal’s reaction to the smell of the wolf and the blood that had been spilled on the forest floor. Darcy’s own horse was snorting with nervousness, and he did his best to control the mare on shortened reins.
“Do you believe me now, Darcy?” Charles’ question was just for him, and all Darcy could do was nod in agreement. Charles turned to the men who were gathered, the officers’ faces were drawn in shades of anger, and their expressions were ghoulish in the firelight. “We have the beast on the run, men. Let’s not let it escape now! Onward!” Charles wheeled his horse and the officers shouted and spurred their own mounts on.
“We do not have it on the run, Charles! You are acting like a madman! The beast was waiting for us!” Charles was not listening, and he led the charge through the trees, the grooms rushing to follow them, their torches held high. A few remained behind and lifted the fallen officer between them.
“Take him back to the stables. Send to the garrison for a wagon to bear him back to Meryton.” Darcy issued the instructions tersely, trying not to betray his true feelings, but he wondered how many others would be pulled from the woods in a similar state. Colonel Forster was pale and drawn, and Darcy knew that the man would be no help in the chase to come. With a sharp shout, he pushed his horse forward, and thundered after his friend.
The crack of a musket shot echoed in the trees, followed by another and Darcy pressed his horse faster, dodging tree trunks and brush in the gathering dark.
“Charles!” His shout was choked, and the smoke from his torch stung his eyes. Where had they gone? He pulled sharply on the shortened reins, and his horse skidded to a stop, its sides heaving, and nostrils wide. The sounds of the forest closed in around him, and Darcy shouted for his friend once more. Another shot rang out and his horse shied at the sudden booming echo. He turned the horse quickly in the direction of the noise and spurred it forward. The mare leapt forward and they broke through the brush with a crashing pace. He had to get behind the shots. If one of the bullets went wide it was just as likely that he would be shot as the creature they hunted.
As if in response to his thought, another shot rang out and something sang past his ear to bury itself in a nearby tree with a sharp thwack. The side of his face was suddenly warm and he ducked low over the horse’s neck as its pace increased. Another shot. Closer this time. Darcy broke through the trees to find Charles had dismounted and was holding the reins of another horse with his own, the leather straps clutched tightly in his hand as he gestured with his musket.
“That way! We have it now, lads!” Darcy leapt from his horse and ran to Charles’ side, relieving him of the reins of the second horse.
“Darcy, you have missed the battle! The brute came at us again, attacked one of the grooms, and almost took Mr. Blake from his horse, but Mr. Grey was quick on the shot, and the beast is wounded! It ran into the bush, but it cannot have gotten far!” Charles’ face was alight with excitement, and Darcy felt his stomach twist into knots. Wounded. They had wounded it.
“Darcy! What happened to your face, man? You are bleeding!” Darcy lifted a hand to his cheek and brought it away to see his fingertips wet with bright blood. The stray bullet must have caught him.
“It is nothing.” He peered into the dark, watching as the stable boys and grooms ran forward with their torches to seek out the wounded animal, and then back at his friend. “If the beast is wounded you may not find it. Be satisfied and come back to Netherfield. There are wounded to tend to, and one of the officers is dead. I hope you are satisfied, Charles.” Bingley, however, had already moved away to give instructions to the gamekeeper.
Darcy sighed, handed the reins of the riderless horse to a nearby groom, pulled his mare from where she grazed nervously nearby and led her towards where he knew Colonel Forster waited. The triumphant shouts of the remaining officers echoed in the trees, and Darcy squared his shoulders against the feelings of anger and resentment that fell heavily upon him. This whole hunt was folly… madness… but they had found something. A wolf in the woods. He had seen it with his own eyes, but he could scarcely believe what had happened right in front of his face.
The forest was strangely quiet, and the horse reacted to the sudden movement in the underbrush before he could. The animal pranced to the side, rearing slightly before kicking out with its hind legs at something Darcy couldn’t see. He heard the horse’s hooves connect with something, and he heard the guttural growl that rippled through the dark. The horse reared again, and Darcy fought to control the terrified animal. He dropped the torch to the ground and grabbed wildly for the knife that was strapped to the saddle. The long blade gleamed wickedly in the guttering torchlight, and Darcy dropped his horse’s reins, allowing the mare to escape into the trees while he faced down the beast in front of him.
The wolf was large, much larger than Darcy had expected. It was the same one that had attacked the officer and taken him from his horse. It was not wounded. That meant there were two. He shouted for Charles and the other officers, but they had moved away through the forest, and Darcy was alone with the snarling creature.
Its teeth were bared and the pale eyes burned with something that Darcy could only understand as hatred. A chill sweat stood out on Darcy’s forehead, and he edged closer to the torch, crouching to pick it up and use it as a further separation between him and the wolf, but the animal did not seem troubled by the fire, and that made Darcy even more nervous.
The wolf stalked closer, limping only slightly from the horse’s kick. Darcy watched as the beast crouched, muscles coiled to spring, and he tightened his grip
on the knife. With a snarl, the animal lunged towards him and Darcy slashed wildly with the knife, feeling it strike flesh and bone. The wolf lurched away and with a snap of its jaws and a low rumbling growl it backed away, the torchlight glittering in its unnaturally pale eyes.
Darcy’s chest heaved, and his eyes searched the darkness, but he could see nothing. The animal had disappeared into the trees, and he was alone again and the silence of the forest closed around him once again. He looked down at the knife, his eyes locked on the crimson that dripped from the blade. He had wounded it… perhaps grievously, but he could not be sure. All he knew was that there was more than one creature in the woods, and that the longer he was alone, the more danger was possible. With the torch lifted high, Darcy turned and fled in the direction his horse had taken. The mare would know her way back to the stables, and Darcy trusted her instincts and wished for some of his own as he stumbled through the dark.
He broke through the trees and a groom shouted for him, beckoning him towards the edge of the trees where the men were gathered. Charles, Colonel Forster and the remaining officers stood in a small circle, enjoying their perceived triumph, but Darcy was in no mood to join their revelry. He threw his torch to the ground, and swung himself into the saddle of the horse that had belonged to the dead officer. He adjusted the stirrups without a word and spurred the horse towards the lights of Netherfield Park. He had had quite enough of the hunt, and he could not bear the smugly justified look on Charles’ face any longer.
Elizabeth Bennet looked over at the dress and mask that hung on her wardrobe door. The dress needed cleaning, and she could not bring herself to pack the mask away just yet. The candlelight played over the silvery paint and she found herself thinking of what had happened at the ball. Jane had told her everything that had happened after she had left Elizabeth with Mr. Darcy, and she was sure that Jane was well on her way to being very much in love with Mr. Bingley. By all accounts, he was the very mirror of Jane’s personality and they complimented each other perfectly in almost every respect. Elizabeth smiled at the memory of how Jane’s cheeks had flushed as she had recounted their conversations and Elizabeth wondered how long it would take before Mr. Bingley would visit them at Longbourn and he and Jane would be engaged. Surely, it would not take very long at all, and they could celebrate a wedding just after Christmastide.