A Scandal at Pemberley

by Fenella J Miller

  Jonathan moved in quickly behind him, before the man could create a hue and cry. ‘I apologise for inconveniencing you, sir, here is a florin for your trouble.’ He offered no further explanation and the man, on receiving the coin bit it to make sure it was not false, and then with a shrug, returned to whatever he had been doing inside the building.

  Jonathan remained in the shadows, now the dark blue of his uniform was making him almost invisible unless a watcher actually knew he was there. The carriage rocked to a standstill and the coachman swore and cracked his whip. ‘Get them beasts outa me way, I ain’t got time to dally here.’

  The groom made a fine pretence of being unable to shift the diligence and as Jonathan had hoped, the coachman tied the reins around the post, pulled on the brake and scrambled down to help back up the horses.

  He ran across and flung open the door. ‘Hands on your head. Do it now if you wish to live.’

  The sole occupant was a malodorous, evil-looking creature with broken teeth and crawlers visible in his lank hair. Jonathan’s sudden appearance with a loaded gun was enough to get the reaction he required. The man’s hands shot to his head as if pulled by an invisible rope.

  The far door was flung open and one of the footmen jumped in with a piece of twine in his hand. The man was soon trussed up like a pig going to market – he certainly smelt like one. The coachman had been similarly treated and was bundled head first into the vehicle to land with a thump in the well of the carriage.

  Jonathan slammed the door and leaned out of the window. ‘One of you drive, the other bring the horses. Turn the vehicle and head in the direction it was coming from – I shall have the exact location in a short space of time.’

  He was used to interrogating prisoners and doubted these two miscreants would resist for very long. He leaned forward, almost gagging at the stench, until his nose was almost touching the man on the seat opposite.

  ‘Address. Now.’ He slowly raised the pistol until it was resting against the man’s filthy forehead. ‘You will hang anyway, so I care naught if I end your life a few weeks earlier.’

  He began to squeeze the trigger and that was all it took. ‘Gag them, if you please, I have no wish for them to alert anybody they might have left guarding Miss Darcy.’

  He banged on the roof and the carriage stopped. He handed the pistol to the groom and then jumped out and collected his horse. ‘Follow me, and this time I care naught if we attract attention.’

  He clicked his tongue and pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks – it moved smoothly from standstill to canter and then extended its stride until they were galloping pell-mell down the street. Before they arrived at the place where he had been told his darling girl was waiting, Jarvis and the other three stable hands caught up with them.

  There was no need to explain, it was obvious what was going on and like a cavalry charge the five of them thundered down the road. The house he wanted was set back behind a stand of trees and had a short drive which led to a stable yard at the rear of the property. The man had had no idea of the name of this place, but had said that it had twisted chimneys which were easily seen from the road.

  He saw the building just ahead and gave the signal to slow their mad gallop. The carriage would arrive soon enough, but he had sufficient men to do what he had to in order to rescue Georgiana.

  ‘Dismount, men, leave your horses in the adjacent field. Bring your cudgels, they might be needed. I have no idea how many we are facing – but it is best to be prepared. The bastard in the carriage said he had left the place empty but others were expected to arrive in his absence.’

  He unhooked his riding cape and tossed it over the saddle, then untied the sword and scabbard and fastened it around his waist.

  This was his element – he was comfortable with whatever might happen and was confident there would be a happy outcome.

  ‘You will not speak. Watch my hands as I will use them to indicate what I wish you to do. Surprise is essential.’

  He led them along the hedge that bordered the house until he found a place he and his troops could squeeze through. They were now behind the stable block and would be unobserved from the house. He loosened his sword in the scabbard and then belatedly remembered he had left the other pistol in his coat pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to see what weaponry they had – Jarvis and his men all held stout cudgels and he had his sword – that should be enough.

  As they approached the rear of the stables they could hear horses stamping inside. He raised his hand and everyone froze. He inched forward until he was level with an opening high on the wall. He gestured for Jarvis to step forward and provide him with a boost. The man obediently clasped his hands and Jonathan placed his foot in them and was raised so he could peer through the aperture.

  There were two horses inside, but no humans. He jumped down and held up two fingers indicating there were two horses and then shook his head. All four nodded, understanding what he was telling them. He moved smoothly forward until he was at the corner of the building, then pressed his back against the wall and glanced round.

  He caught a flash of movement behind a grime-streaked window and thanked God he had taken the precaution of looking before he’d moved forwards. They would need to create a distraction and bring out whoever was inside, but it would have to appear innocent – he wasn’t going to risk Georgiana being hurt. If Wickham knew he was being attacked he might well gain his freedom by using her as a bargaining tool.

  He gestured for the men to retreat and when he was certain they were out of earshot of the house he explained what he wanted them to do. Once he was sure they understood he returned to his place at the corner of the stables where he could watch the kitchen window.

  Jarvis disappeared taking two of the men with him, leaving one waiting silently behind him. Ten minutes went by before his plan was put into action. The sound of raised voices and the clattering of hooves at the front of the building indicated Jarvis and his men were doing as he’d requested.

  He watched the window and was sure whoever had been there had now rushed to the front of the house to discover what the fuss was about. He had told Jarvis to unsaddle one of the horses and chase it up the drive as if it had escaped. He waited until he heard fresh voices joining in the shouting.

  This was his chance. Crouching low, he sped across the cobbled yard and threw himself against the back door. It gave way beneath him and he all but tumbled into the flagstone passageway beyond. He steadied himself and his sword flashed in the darkness. The front door was open – whoever was here had exited that way. He pointed and mimed that his companion should bolt the door behind them.

  He stopped and closed the back door – he had burst the bolts so he couldn’t stop the men outside from entering. He had only a few moments to find Georgiana and make sure she was safe. He was about to race upstairs when he heard her calling him from the far end of the passageway.

  In seconds he was at the door and turned the key but he could not shift it more than an inch. ‘Sweetheart, are you unhurt? Quickly, move whatever you have put behind this door and come out to me.’

  ‘I knew you would come, it is Wickham who is here and he has another with him.’ The noise she was making hurling furniture about would attract attention very soon.

  He was leaning his whole weight against the door when suddenly it shifted and she was through the gap and in his arms. He crushed her to his chest and she clung to him.

  ‘Major, I reckon the varmint’s heard us and is on his way back. He tried the front and now he’s going round the back.’

  ‘Take Miss Darcy out through the front and get her to safety. I will deal with Wickham and his accomplice.’

  Georgiana refused to budge. ‘You must not kill him, promise me you will not kill him.’

  For a moment he was tempted to refuse, but the need to get his beloved safe was more important than getting the satisfaction of ending Wickham’s miserable existence.

  ‘I give you my word.
Now, do as you’re told, and get out of here.’ He shoved her none too gently in the direction of the front door, which was now open. She picked up her skirts and raced down the corridor not a moment too soon.

  As the door slammed shut behind her so Wickham and his henchmen burst in. Jonathan had made a catastrophic misjudgement. Both men were armed with pistols and both were pointing at his heart.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Georgiana was half dragged across the grass; the man who had her arm was determined to take her away from Jonathan. While she was struggling to free herself the Bennet carriage arrived in the drive and a loose horse clattered past the railings that fronted the property. She stopped and watched in amazement as the coachman, and a man from inside, dropped to the ground before the vehicle was quite stationary. They raced to the rear of the building and both were holding weapons.

  Whilst the groom holding her arm was distracted she wrenched herself free and headed back to the house. As she reached the front door there was the hideous crack of a gun being fired followed immediately by three more retorts.

  Ignoring the cries for her to wait she burst into the hallway to see Jonathan was upright, but there were two bodies face down on the boards. The two from the coach were holding smoking guns and the air was heavy with the smell of explosives.

  Thank God! Her beloved was unscathed. She ran to him and as she reached his side his eyes blazed for a second and then seemed to dim.

  ‘Forgive me, my darling, it should not have ended like this.’

  His eyes closed and to her horror his knees appeared to crumple and he slowly slid down the wall leaving a dreadful trail of blood behind him. He had been shot and she hadn’t realised. She dropped to her knees beside his unconscious figure and only then saw the bloodstained bullet hole in his uniform jacket.

  For a moment she was frozen but then common sense took over. He was bleeding from his back so the bullet must have gone through – she must stop the bleeding, as loss of blood could prove fatal. Ignoring the men who were crowding into the hallway she began to rip strips from her petticoat. Someone knelt beside her and together they made a pad of material and Jarvis, for she recognised him now, groped inside Jonathan’s jacket and pressed it on the entry wound.

  ‘Here, miss, give me the other one and I’ll put it at the back. You tear off some more strips to bind them in place.’

  She couldn’t speak, but nodded her agreement. By the time they had the bandages in place four men she recognised from Grosvenor Square appeared at their side with a trestle upon which to carry Jonathan to the carriage.

  ‘I’ve sent a man ahead, Miss Darcy, to raise the alarm and there will be a doctor waiting when we arrive.’

  Georgiana needed to use the wall to get herself upright again. She stood to one side as Jonathan was carefully lifted onto the trestle and then picked up. Only then did she glance at the bodies – one of them was Wickham – she recognised his fair curls. She was glad he was dead, after what he had done to Jonathan she would willingly have shot him through the heart herself.

  Outside the sun still shone, everyday noises filled the air, but she heard none of it. Her attention was concentrated on the unconscious form of the man she could not live without. She arrived at the side of the carriage as they were carefully manhandling him inside.

  Jarvis touched her arm politely. ‘I reckon you’ll be better coming up with me, miss, the stench in there is something rank.’ He gestured towards two bound prisoners tossed against the hedge like unwanted sacks of rubbish. ‘They were in…’

  She stepped around Jarvis and was inside before he could argue. Jonathan was too tall to lie across the squabs but was propped with his feet on the floor and his torso on the seat. Without hesitation she lifted his head and wriggled beneath it, then settled him comfortably on her lap.

  The door slammed and the coach moved off without further conversation. Every jolt, every jerk of the carriage was increasing the risk. Despite the bandages Jonathan was bleeding profusely – there was an unpleasant stickiness seeping out onto her gown.

  She prayed as she had never done before that God would spare him, that somehow there would be a miracle and he would open his eyes and everything would be all right. The journey seemed interminable, although they were travelling at an indecent pace, it was not fast enough. Unless Jonathan received sutures in his wounds very soon he would surely bleed to death.

  Eventually they were home. The door was flung open and Adam was inside the carriage. ‘My God, what a dreadful thing to happen. Do not look so concerned, little one, the major will not give up easily. He has everything to live for.’

  He reached across and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Are you well? Were you hurt in any way?’

  ‘I was not, and Wickham is dead. Is the doctor here?’

  ‘He is, let me take over now, we must get him inside immediately.’

  Georgiana allowed Adam to take hold of Jonathan’s limp shoulders and then three other male servants were there to assist, and her beloved was gone leaving her to find her own way from the carriage. She closed her eyes and tears trickled down her cheeks. She wished Fitzwilliam was here – he would know what to do.

  For some reason she was unable to stir herself, her limbs were heavy, it was as if she was being weighed down by an invisible force. Then she was vaguely aware that Adam had returned and lifted her gently from the seat. There was nothing more she could do; Jonathan’s life was in the hands of the Almighty and the skill of the physician attending him.

  ‘Here we are, sweetheart, Ellie will soon have you warm and comfortable.’ Adam placed her in an armchair and then was gone again.

  The chatter of her maids was a comfort but Georgiana paid no attention and made no response. However, when she was guided into a warm, scented bath she began to revive. ‘I need to wash my hair, I feel tainted by where I have been and will not be happy until I am free of the smell.’

  ‘Mrs King is waiting to speak to you in your sitting room, miss, will you be getting dressed or putting on your nightgown?’

  ‘It is scarcely bedtime, Ellie, I shall get dressed again of course. Would you be kind enough to tell Mrs King I will see her as soon as I am ready?’

  Kitty greeted her with a fierce embrace. ‘Dearest Georgiana, I am so pleased to see you home and unhurt. I cannot believe that Wickham shot Jonathan. What a horrible thing to happen – I imagine that my mother is having a conniption fit at the thought of having her son-in-law labelled an abductor and murderer.’

  ‘It is better that Wickham is dead, having him on the gallows would have been so much worse. I must go and see how Jonathan is doing. Forgive me, but I cannot linger here.’ Georgiana embraced her friend again and hurried out.

  The guest rooms were on the other side of the house and she made her way there with a feeling of dread. The fact that no one had come to see her after the doctor had visited was not a good sign, in her opinion. She burst into the sitting room of Jonathan’s apartment without knocking, but it was empty.

  She rushed across the room and opened the bedroom door expecting to find Adam, the doctor and a nurse in there as well as her darling Jonathan. This room was also empty apart from the still figure in the centre of the bed. For a second her heart almost stopped beating – then she realised his face was not covered – so he could not be dead.

  Why was there no one here to watch over him? She moved quietly to the bed and to her astonishment and delight he turned his head and smiled at her.

  ‘You have taken an unconscionable time to get here, sweetheart, I thought you would be at my bedside long ago.’

  Somewhat taken aback by his comment, she stared at him, wondering if his wits were addled by the loss of blood. ‘In case you have forgotten, Major Brownstone, I was kidnapped earlier today and had to scrub myself from head to toe in order to remove any vermin I might have picked up. I have not eaten since early this morning, neither have I had a drink – but here I am at your bedside. I can see that I need not have
bothered if you are perfectly well.’

  Instead of answering her, he reached across and took her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘You are a pea-goose, my love, I was attempting a feeble jest, but I can see I sadly missed the mark.’

  ‘I thought you were going to die, you had a hole shot right through you and…’

  ‘I have no wish to talk about what happened to me. I am a soldier, I have been wounded before and will be on my feet in no time.’

  ‘How is your wound? When I saw you an hour or so ago you were unconscious and as white as a ghost.’

  ‘I have a prodigious amount of stitches but as far as the doctor knows the bullet caused no serious damage. I am to drink as much watered wine as I can stomach, rest in bed for a day or two, and then I shall be fine.’

  He gave her hand a tug. ‘I sent everyone away so we could be alone. I am sorry that I teased you; it was a stupid thing to do. We have much to talk about, sweetheart, and it would be so much easier if you sat next to me on the bed.’

  How could she refuse such a request? There was no need for him to shift as he was already in the centre of the huge bed. A sudden impulse made her kick off her indoor slippers and scramble up beside him. Instead of sitting demurely on the edge she stretched out on top of the coverlet and rested her head on his sound shoulder.

  With a sigh of satisfaction he pulled her indecently close and then his breathing deepened. He had fallen asleep. Her stomach gurgled and she was eager to find some refreshment, but she would remain within his embrace and enjoy the closeness. She cared not for etiquette or reputation, they could both have died today and she was not going to let him out of her sight ever again.

  This is what it would be like when they were married, lying next to him hearing him breathing, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers. It had been a long and difficult day – perhaps it would not hurt if she slept for a little while too.