Darcy and Elizabeth--A Most Unlikely Couple

by Brenda J. Webb

  A strange noise caused William to glance at a curtain covering one side of the room. Instantly, Hartley sought to distract him.

  “Whoever shot me did so from a distance of a hundred yards or more. Andrew was never that good a shot.”

  “George Wickham is, and he will do anything for a price.”

  Having begun to harbour tender feelings for Elizabeth, Hartley had hoped that today’s confrontation would discredit her husband. Thus, he was not pleased that William’s answers made sense. Irritated, he began waving the pistol about, and spying a tall, ceramic statue on a table across the room, he tilted his head, squinted his remaining eye and aimed at it. For some time, he held steady before slowly swinging the barrel of the gun around so that it was aimed at William. Eyes locked, neither man deigned to blink. At length, Hartley slowly lowered the weapon, and William let go of the breath he had been holding.

  “You were always very persuasive, Darcy. Even at university, you could best most of the professors with decisive arguments for your point of view, but it does not follow that you are telling the truth. Rest assured that you have not yet convinced me of your innocence. In fact, I have many other questions in need of answers.”

  “Ask me anything, and I shall tell you the truth!”

  “I wonder why, knowing your repulsive behaviour toward Elizabeth, you came here today. My abduction would have been the perfect opportunity to rid yourself of someone who inadvertently got in the way of your plans.”

  “My plans? Of what are you accusing me?”

  “It is my contention that you and Susan were planning to marry after a proper year of mourning but, unluckily, you were compromised in Meryton and forced to marry Elizabeth. That would explain why you and she have been at odds from the beginning and why you sent her on to Pemberley while you stayed in London. Afterward, a convenient injury allowed you to claim no memory of her.”

  “That is absurd! I never plotted anything with Lady Susan and, sadly, the assault on my person was as valid as your own. As for marrying Elizabeth, I had fallen in love with her earlier when I stayed at Netherfield.”

  Hartley stalked toward William, halting when their faces were inches apart. He growled, “I find that hard to swallow. She was of little consequence—no dowry to speak of, no connections and certainly not of your rank. I cannot fathom the heir of Pemberley lowering his standards so drastically, especially knowing what your family would think.”

  William’s eyes turned black, and as he lashed out at Hartley, his voice rose with indignation. “I did not consider marriage to Elizabeth as lowering my standards and my family’s wishes have never held much weight. As to why I am here, she is my wife.”

  With this reprisal, those holding William extracted several fierce grimaces and groans by harshly twisting his arms until Hartley nodded for them to halt. Half choked by a rising fit of rage, William would not remain silent.

  “I would have come for her even if I had not recovered my memory because it is my duty to protect her. Nonetheless, I happened to receive the drawings of her in her wedding gown the evening after she had left, and those sketches caused my suppressed memories to flood back like a river. I was so overcome that I made plans to follow her to London. I wished her to know as soon as possible that I remembered everything. Your ransom note changed those plans.”

  “Or perhaps, after she left, you heard the whispers among the servants that she might be with child. You would not be the first man to want his child, if not his wife. And I have no problem saying that I firmly believe she left Pemberley because she had concluded that you did not want her and subsequently would not want the child.”

  “Once Elizabeth left for London, my aunt started to question her motive for going. Then, and only then, did she inform me that Elizabeth suspected she was carrying my child. But you can rely on this—I am not the kind of man to forsake her or the child, even if I never remembered our marriage.”

  “I find that too preposterous to believe! What is more, I do not think you can convince her of it, either.” William started to reply, but Hartley stopped him, saying, “Wait!” Then motioning to a servant to pull back the curtain, he evinced his displeasure with a contemptuous sneer. “Explain it to your wife, not me.”

  By then William was barely attending to Hartley’s words, for as the curtain was removed, he was stunned to see Elizabeth sitting in a chair. Even more jolting, the rope secured about her waist excellently showcased her slightly protruding stomach.

  While the scarf over her mouth was being untied, he exclaimed, “Elizabeth!” Longing to go to her, he fought to shake off his guards but was unable.

  “I have found your wife to be very intelligent, and unless you have a more credible explanation, she cannot help but agree with me that you are lying to secure the child.”

  Her throat dry and voice hoarse from being gagged, Elizabeth asked the questions that had drummed in her head and heart day and night. “Oh, Will! Is it true? Do you remember?”

  “I remember everything, my darling, but most especially I recall my horrible conduct toward you after I was injured. I am so ashamed of my coldness towards you.” William spoke with hurried eagerness, his expression one of supplication. “Please believe me when I say that I love you ardently, and I am deliriously happy to see the evidence of our child.”

  Her gaze searched his face for the truth and, once she was certain, she nodded. Tears began to stream down her face.

  A pang of jealously mingled with scorn marked Hartley’s next words. “Enough honey-coated drivel!” he roared. “Tell Elizabeth something that will convince her that you truly remember her and are not lying to get your way.”

  William’s lips curled into a smile as his eyes caressed her face. Murmuring in a tone filled with the deepest devotion, he said, “First... Last... Only... Always.”

  “That is all?” Hartley demanded incredulously. “Four little words?”

  “I had those sentiments inscribed on her wedding band,” William answered.

  Hartley crossed to where Elizabeth sat. Cutting the ropes that bound her, he lifted her left hand to examine the ring she wore. A bit too triumphantly, he crowed, “There is no such inscription. Perhaps you confused Elizabeth’s ring with one you gave another.”

  “He is right,” Elizabeth interrupted, her eyes encouraging William. “This is his mother’s ring.” Reaching for the chain around her neck, she pulled William’s ring from its hiding place and addressed him. “After you no longer recognised me, I began to wear your ring next to my heart. I could not have borne it if you never remembered what inspired you to have the words engraved on my ring.”

  Hartley was enraged at her ready acceptance of Darcy’s proof. “Why would you acquiesce so readily, Elizabeth? Ask him for more proof. Has he not given you plenty of reasons to doubt his love?”

  “I never doubted that he loved me—in his heart. That is why I prayed continually that his memory would soon discover what his heart already knew. Today I am persuaded that it has.”

  Seeing the expressions that passed between the couple—the kind of devotion he would gladly have given his fortune to gain—Lord Hartley’s resolve began to crumble. Unmistakably, the woman he had hoped to influence believed that Fitzwilliam was telling the truth. More significantly, it was plain that she loved her husband wholeheartedly.

  It was at that moment that Hartley realised that he had never stood a chance of winning Elizabeth. In addition, he was unable to dismiss the niggling feeling that his old friend was not only being truthful about his marriage, he was innocent of conspiring to kill him. Against his heart’s desire, Hartley conceded defeat.

  “Cut him loose!”

  Instantly, Elizabeth rose to run to William. His hands were loosed just in time to catch her as she fell into his embrace. Bringing his mouth to hers, he clung to her as though never meaning to let her go. Oblivious to Hartley, they kissed as lovers separated far too long.

  Despondent at the blatant display of felicity, Hartley
hobbled over to a chair, sat down and let go a ragged sigh. “Jealousy can do strange things to a man, Fitzwilliam, and I admit to being jealous of you since the first time I heard Susan call your name while she dreamt. When the resemblance between you and the boy became impossible to ignore, I willingly believed that you had betrayed me. And, after I was shot... well, I would see no villain but you. I suppose I shall now have to focus my revenge on Wickham. What a pity, for I took great pleasure in believing the worst of you.” He laughed hollowly then was silent for a moment.

  “At any rate, I owe you an apology for accusing you of assaulting me and for absconding with your wife.” Hartley motioned for a servant to pour him another brandy. After taking a few sips, he added, “You must know that I truly believed I was saving Mrs. Darcy from possible death, else I would never have seized the coach.”

  “I appreciate that you were only trying to protect her,” William replied cautiously.

  “How can I ever make amends? Will you at least accept my apology?”

  “I accept your apology. And, no doubt, you appreciate my desire to take Elizabeth home immediately.”

  “I understand,” Hartley said. “You must do what is best for—”

  There was the sound of scuffling in the hall, and events took a more sinister turn. Instantly, two men burst into the room with pistols drawn.

  “No one move!” Wickham declared, smiling gleefully as he and Andrew interrupted the discussion. “We have more men, so do not underestimate our strength.” To Hartley and his servants, he ordered. “Lay your weapons on the floor.” Andrew recovered the guns, slipping them into his belt.

  As they complied, William could do absolutely naught to protect Elizabeth but step in front of her to face his childhood nemesis.

  “Darcy, always the gentleman!” Wickham mocked, pushing him aside. “Sorry, but your beautiful wife will have to stay in my sight, too.”

  Wickham motioned to the closest servant, tossing him a rope he held in his other hand. “You! Tie up everyone, and do not be slow about it.”

  As the servant hurried to comply, Wickham could not resist boasting to Hartley, who he had not recognised. “I cannot believe how easy this job has been. Andrew and I were going to kidnap Mrs. Darcy for a ransom, but you snatched her first. All we had to do was follow your dim-witted servants here and wait until Darcy came with the ransom. They were so intent upon seizing him today, that they never saw us coming. Once we entered the house, the few not here with you were gathered at a table in the kitchen. They were having a drink in celebration.” He guffawed. “Methinks they celebrated too soon!”

  “I suppose my servants are not seasoned blackguards like you, George!”

  At the mention of his name, Wickham studied the other man intently. “Hartley, is it really you, old man? I have to say that you look nothing like I remember. If not for your voice, I would not have recognised you at all. Oh, but why would I? After all, I did my best to kill you.” George laughed wryly. “At your wife’s bidding, I might add.

  “How ill-fated it is that you survived my first attempt, only to come face-to-face with me again. This time I shall do a more credible job, I assure you. And, afterward, I shall spread the news that all those who died at Briarwood lost their lives as a result of a kidnapping gone awry—a kidnapping that you instigated. Forevermore you will be remembered as a murderer—a man who staged his own demise in order to kill the one who had seduced his wife.”

  “George, you never mentioned killing anyone,” Andrew said nervously, finally finding his voice. “You said we would take the ransom and sail from England.”

  Wickham turned around, waving his gun wildly. “It is necessary if we are to escape! I did not mention killing Darcy at Mason’s Pass either, but I acted after you proved too timid. Since I must do all the dirty work, I suggest that you keep your mouth shut, and do as I say.”

  Andrew held up his hands as though acquiescing, so George turned back to bark at the servant who had just finished tying up everyone. “Come over here!”

  As he came forward, George told Andrew, “Tie him up.”

  As Andrew complied, Wickham ordered everyone to sit on the floor. Then he walked over to Darcy, now seated next to Elizabeth. “So, old friend, how does it feel to know that all your money cannot buy you another minute of life?”

  “Your grievance is with me, George. Why not settle our differences like gentlemen.”

  “With a duel? Do you think me a dullard? You can best any man with a sword and most everyone else with a pistol. No, I am too close to getting what I rightfully deserve to take that chance.”

  “Untie me then, and we can fight without weapons.”

  “And ruin my pretty face? I think not.”

  “You are truly a coward,” William retorted.

  Wickham hit him with his fist, bloodying his lip and bruising his jaw, while Elizabeth screamed for him to stop.

  “You dare refer to me as a gentleman, though you have looked down on me all my life! You were the heir! You got the best of everything, while I was the lowly steward’s son. Still, you resented the fact that your father loved me! He would have wanted you to treat me much better than you have. So, you can consider today repayment for not doing it.”

  Wickham reached out to tip Elizabeth’s chin up so he could look in her eyes. “Alas, I do not have time to show you what a real man is, Mrs. Darcy. This sorry excuse for a man could never have satisfied a woman like you.”

  “Take your hands off her!” William ordered, only to be beaten again. In a rage, Wickham brought the gun to William’s forehead. Elizabeth screamed, but he ignored her, taunting his nemesis instead.

  “I ought to kill you first, but I think it will be more painful for you to see your precious wife die right before your eyes while you can do nothing to save her. Then, after her, it shall be your turn to die.”

  When Wickham turned the gun on Elizabeth, Hartley cursed. Praying fervently that he could be quick enough, William attempted to throw his body in front of her.

  A shot rang out just before he pushed her to the floor, and William’s heart stopped beating. When he opened his eyes, however, Elizabeth was looking up at him, unharmed. Suddenly, Wickham fell to the floor next to them. He had been shot in the back. As William glanced at Andrew, he was tossing an empty pistol to the floor and drawing another from his waistband.

  “Do not get the idea that you are saved, Fitz! I mean to have the ransom. I do not hold to murdering people of great consequence unless it is absolutely necessary, but I will kill anyone who tries to stop me.”

  He walked over to pull William to his feet. “I am afraid that you will have to come with me, Cousin. Richard will never risk trying to stop me if your life hangs in the balance.”

  “No!” Elizabeth pleaded as he dragged William toward the satchel, grabbed it and headed to the door. “Please, take me, not him.”

  William immediately objected and Andrew guffawed. “Seeing you so besotted, is too entertaining, Fitz.” Then he addressed Elizabeth. “I apologise, Mrs. Darcy, but you are not as valuable a commodity as your husband. Do not worry, though. If he and Richard do as I say, he shall return to you unharmed in due time.”

  Straightaway, Andrew went out of the room with William, while those left behind tried to free themselves from the ropes. Suddenly, gunfire outside the house caused everyone to halt. From the number of shots, it was obvious that many weapons were involved. Elizabeth began to weep, terrified of what it meant for William.

  RICHARD FITZWILLIAM, Patrick Harahan and Dale Coleridge had found it a simple matter to follow William to Briarwood. They had watched as Wickham, Andrew and their associates followed him and his captors to the manor house. Though outnumbered, they were confident that they could make up for the deficit with their expertise—each being an expert marksman.

  When they found Denny, Pate and Duke waiting at the front steps of Briarwood with a coach and extra horses, it was too good an opportunity to let pass. Each man took aim at a tar
get chosen beforehand. Pate and Duke were killed outright while Denny, who was mortally wounded, tried to run. He fell before he could reach the coach. It was at that moment, that Andrew exited the house with William in tow and, seeing everyone dead, pulled his hostage back inside, hiding behind the entrance door.

  Certain that Richard was behind the assault, Andrew shouted, “Stop shooting or I shall kill him, Richard! I swear it! Let me leave with Fitz, and I promise he will come to no harm. I shall let him go the day I sail for the Americas.”

  “You have yourself a bargain,” Richard replied. “Do not hurt Darcy, and I shall see that you live to sail from England.”

  “Excellent! Come out where I can see you!” Richard nodded to the Bow Street Runners, and they all stepped into a clearing with guns in the air. “Throw down your weapons,” Andrew ordered. Everyone hesitated, so he added, “Now!”

  With Richard’s nod of consent, the men did as he asked and watched powerlessly as Andrew came down the steps, pushing William ahead of him with the gun to his back.

  “Back up,” Andrew directed. Each man took a few steps back. “Do not play with me. Back up!”

  Richard and his men complied, and as Darcy and his cousin reached the weapons, Andrew dropped all of the guns into the satchel. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he exclaimed.

  Now he motioned for William to mount a horse. Though his hands were tied, he easily took hold of the horse’s mane, and with one fluid motion, was sitting on the animal. Andrew followed suit and, grabbing the reins of Darcy’s horse, began to gallop down the drive.

  “What are we to do now?” Coleridge asked.

  “You and Harahan will stay here and see to Mrs. Darcy and the others,” Richard replied, pulling a derringer from his boot. “I plan to go after Darcy alone. One man will be harder to spot.”