by Zoë Burton
So it was that, two days after she received Darcy’s letter, Lady Catherine and her daughter entered the village of Meryton. Her instructions to her coachman were to find Longbourn, for that was the name of the estate she had found in the peerage register. Her shock had been great to discover the connection to the peerage that the Bennet family could claim. It was unexpected; however, her daughter still retained a prior claim to Darcy. She could not let this supposed engagement stand. She held the strap as her coachman brought the equipage to a stop. Out the window, she could see three young ladies about to enter what appeared to be a seamstress’ shop.
‘Hello, Miss!”
All three Bennet daughters turned at the sound of the coach stopping and the driver hailing someone. Realizing he was calling to them, Elizabeth stepped forward. “Hello, sir!”
“Could you tell me where to find an estate called Longbourn? The Bennet family?”
Taken aback, Elizabeth glanced at Kitty and Lydia, who had moved to stand at her left side, and then back to the coachman. Before she could utter a word, Lydia spoke, pointing her finger toward the road.
“Why, Longbourn is our home. It is just down the way here.”
The driver’s face showed surprise. “You are Bennets? All of you?”
“We are.” Kitty giggled at the man’s look.
Turning to the groom beside him, the driver spoke. “Get on down there and tell the mistress we have found some Bennets.”
“Yes, sir.”
Both Lady Catherine and Anne had been listening to the exchange. Anne had shrunk down in her seat as far as she dared as the door opened.
“Ma’am? These here ladies are Bennets.”
Elizabeth was confused, as were her sisters. She could see from the design of the carriage that it did not belong to anyone she knew. Suddenly, a voice floated out, harsh and angry.
“Which one of you is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Elizabeth took one step forward. “I am.”
“Come in here so that I may speak to you.”
Now, Elizabeth was not at all worldly, but neither was she stupid. “Thank you for asking, but I would rather not. We have not been introduced, and I do not enter the carriages of strangers. You may present yourself to my father at Longbourn. I will give your coachman directions. Good day, madam.”
Elizabeth looked up to the coachman as Lady Catherine railed at her, and explained to him how to find the estate. She then gathered her sisters and entered the shop without looking back.
Lady Catherine was left sputtering, with no method of releasing her anger. Anne had watched the entire proceedings with delight. Why, the lady had treated her mother as though she were as common as a tree. Not many people attempted that, much less got away with it, so Anne was enjoying it while it lasted. She hid her laugh behind her hand, turning her head to the window.
Chapter 5
For all that Elizabeth was done with the imperious woman in the elegant carriage, that woman was by no means done with her. Lady Catherine’s anger was at full boil, and when the step was let down in front of Longbourn’s door, she marched up the steps and knocked herself, not waiting for her servant.
“I am Lady Catherine De Bourgh. I demand to see Mr. Bennet immediately.”
Mrs. Hill, Longbourn’s housekeeper, jumped at the visitor’s tone. She curtseyed, opening the door wider. “Please come in. He is in his book room. If you will wait here, I will tell him you wish to speak with him. He has another guest with him right now.”
Lady Catherine, however, was not one to consent to cooling her heels in anyone’s hallway, and followed the servant to a wood-panelled door all the way at the end of the hall. When the door opened, Lady Catherine pushed past Mrs. Hill before the housekeeper could announce her. Her anger only grew to see her nephew in the room with an older gentleman who could only be the one she had come to see.
Rising at her entrance, the gentlemen both bowed to her. Darcy spoke before she could get a word out. “Lady Catherine, it is a surprise to see you here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why should it be a surprise? Surely you knew when you sent your letter that I would respond?”
“Well, yes, I did, but I expected a reply in kind, not for you to venture forth from Kent to congratulate me in person.”
“Congratulate you? Why would I congratulate you? I see no reason for it, unless you break this farce of an engagement.”
“I have no intentions of ending my engagement, Aunt.” Darcy’s tone was severe, but the words were quietly spoken.
“You must. You are engaged to my daughter, and have been since your infancy. It was the greatest wish of your mother for the two of you to join together. For you to reject her now is cruelty in its highest form, for Anne and for the young woman to whom you have proposed. Both will be ridiculed, my daughter for being jilted and Miss Bennet for reaching above her station. Your friends will reject you, and she will never be admitted to society.”
“Funny how my mother never told me about any understanding she made with you. Nor did my father. Ever. In his effects were no marriage contracts between Anne and me, no settlement articles.” Darcy’s voice became hard as flint. “Any engagement between myself and my cousin was a mere figment of your imagination, Lady Catherine. I should have spoken to you about it years ago, and I apologize to you for that failure. However, my friends and anyone else who actually cares about me will neither ridicule me nor reject me, or my wife, whoever she may be. Those who love me best will desire my happiness and will embrace the one who makes me so.” He stepped closer to her before he continued. “Any rejection will come about as a result of the machinations and slander of those who do not care for me, and will be met with the excision of those people from our lives. Do I make myself clear, Lady Catherine?”
For a full minute, the great woman was speechless, having never expected such harsh words from her favorite nephew, delivered in such a hard manner. When words did return to her, they spewed forth in language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that Darcy was hard pressed not to grab her and toss her out the window. Thankfully, Mr. Bennet intervened, ringing for Mrs. Hill, who had already heard enough of the din through the door to summon the footman along with the grooms from the stables. The servants quietly entered the room, taking up positions all around Lady Catherine.
“Enough!” Mr. Bennet roared the word in a tone not heard in the house in at least a decade. Pointing at the lady, he informed her in no uncertain terms that he would not tolerate abuse of his family from anyone and that she had the choice to leave on her own or to be escorted out.
His words startled her into awareness of her surroundings and, finally seeing the gathered men edging closer to her, she raised her nose in the air, turned around, and exited the room. She muttered all the way to the door, leaving no one in doubt of her feelings.
Finally, the house was quiet again. Darcy, still red with rage, took a deep breath. Turning away from the door and facing his betrothed’s father, he spoke. “I apologize for my aunt, sir. She had no right to come here to accost anyone, and less right to denigrate Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bennet sighed, still angry himself, but drained from the emotion. “Thank you, but the apology should come from her. Apparently, being a peer does not guarantee proper behavior in a person.”
“No, indeed, it does not, which is why my father taught my sister and myself to judge people on their actions and not their position in society. Never have I been more grateful for that lesson.”
Bennet nodded. That was a lesson he wished more people had learned. “Well, I do not know about you, but I require a drink after all that. Would you like one?”
Darcy chuckled. “I believe that to be a fine idea, sir.”
~~~***~~~
George Wickham eased himself away from the window looking into Longbourn’s book room, fading into the shadows of the large oaks that shaded the house. He had spent the days since his confrontation with Darcy mostly in hiding, following his childh
ood friend around and monitoring his habits. It did not take him long to figure out that Darcy was truly enamored of the Bennet girl and to begin stalking her, as well.
When he could, Wickham spent time in the local inn’s taproom, listening to the gossip of the town. That was where he received confirmation of the engagement between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth. Now, he had discovered that Darcy’s family, part of it anyway, was opposed to the match.
Wickham wanted revenge, and now he knew just how to accomplish it. He returned to the inn for a meal, and then ventured into the night to the abandoned outbuilding he had found on the other side of Longbourn. Keeping to himself, he planned out every detail. Looking around his hiding place, he thought that it would serve his needs well. Pulling an old letter and a small pencil out of his pocket, he made a list of items to purchase on the morrow. For safety’s sake, he would ride out to the next town to buy them. He did not intend to be caught, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Tucking his paper and pencil back where he found it, Wickham lay back on the pile of rags he was using for a bed and reflected on the Darcys, in particular the current master of Pemberley.
Wickham had always been jealous of Fitzwilliam Darcy. The heir to Pemberley could do no wrong, it seemed, always receiving preferred treatment and praise for every accomplishment. Wickham received praise, as well, but his mother’s words about how little they had and how much more they needed rang in his ears. His father was a hard-working man, and well-respected on the estate. On some level, Wickham knew that his mother spent every farthing her husband earned, but as he was more often with her than with his father, it was her opinion that formed his. So, even though Wickham was not the heir to the great estate, he never learned to be happy with his lot in life and, once his mother passed away, his envy of Fitzwilliam grew and he began to rebel.
He started out with small things; leaving stall doors unlatched after riding, being too rough in his play, and sending a greased pig into the kitchens. When he was sent to Eton along with Fitzwilliam and met more young men, he began to be drawn to the ones who did not follow the rules. His tricks became meaner and had more of a tormenting quality to them. And, they were not aimed solely at Fitzwilliam any longer. By the time they entered Cambridge, Wickham was carousing with peers, involved in gambling and drinking and debauchery of all kinds. He often impersonated Fitzwilliam Darcy. His group of friends thought this was a hoot. Darcy was reserved and quiet. He excelled in both sports and academics, though he preferred solitary pursuits such as reading and riding. Few of the other boys understood his serious and studious nature.
Then came the deaths of Darcy’s father and his own and the fiasco that was his bequest in the elder Darcy’s will. Wickham’s attempted elopement with Georgiana Darcy was his first attempt at revenge. If not for the empty-headed chit’s urge to tell her brother all the details, it would have worked. He would have had a pretty, obedient, young woman in his bed, unlimited access to one of the finest estates in all England, and thirty thousand pounds in his hand. He shook his head at the memory. Too bad that did not work out. This scheme will, though. It is perfect.
Two Days Later…
Elizabeth strode with sure steps to the fence that marked the border between her father’s estate and the first of the tenant houses, on the other side of Longbourn from Netherfield. She planned today to walk along that fence to the creek and then follow the water for a bit before going home. She was expected to visit Darcy and Georgiana later today at Bingley’s estate, but she required the respite that sunshine and exercise provided before she returned to the chaos of Longbourn and her mother’s tactless, shrill pronouncements and unsolicited advice.
Having just made the turn from the fence line to the creek, Elizabeth heard a noise in the woods nearby. She stopped for a moment, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up and a feeling of apprehension overtaking her. She listened intently, hoping to determine what had made the unusual sound, but all was quiet. Shaking herself, she put the thought away, chuckling silently at her missish reaction. Turning back to the path that ran along the small stream, she began walking once again.
Suddenly, she heard quick steps behind her and before she could turn around, an arm was around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. Frozen for a few seconds in shock, Elizabeth did not react immediately, but when she felt herself pulled back tightly against a person’s body, she began to fight. She kicked at her attacker, and when he grunted in pain, she was able to determine that it was a man. Continuing to use her legs and feet, as well as her arms and hands, she fought to be free, but he was too strong. She scratched at his hands and face between jabs into his ribs with her elbows as he dragged her backward to the tree line. Then, the world went dark.
Wickham cursed as Elizabeth fought him with all she had, ordering her to desist. She ignored him, and her wriggling made it more difficult for him to get her out of sight. Once she scratched his face, he had had enough. Removing his arm from her waist, he struck her, and she slumped to the ground. Not checking the state of her health, Wickham picked Elizabeth back up, this time throwing her over his shoulder.
He walked steadily toward his destination, keeping to the trees as much as possible, and skirting the farms as best he could. He stopped twice to rest, unceremoniously dropping Elizabeth to the ground. The first time, he tied her hands behind her back and her legs and knees together with rope he had hidden at the site. He tied an extra cravat he had in his pocket around her mouth. It would not do for her to awaken and scream. He could not be found out before he got far away from Meryton.
Finally, he arrived at the abandoned building he had designated as his base of operations. Once more, he dropped his cargo, this time on the dirt floor of the shed. Elizabeth, who had awakened on the second leg of the trip and had wiggled around trying to get away until he had slapped her bottom and told her to behave, grunted in pain before looking around the room.
“Do not think, Miss Elizabeth, that you will escape. It will not be possible. You are here as my revenge on Darcy, my retribution for taking my inheritance and his sister and her dowry from me. You will remain in this cabin, just as you are, until someone finds you. It could be hours, days, or even weeks, before you are discovered. And Darcy will be in agony. His betrothed, lost to him; I know that it will cause him pain. I have seen the two of you together. I see the affection he has for you. I know him well…he would not offer for you if he did not love you, nor would he tolerate your family. You are important to him. He has taken from me things that were important to me, and now I am returning the favor.” Wickham tipped his hat to her. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth.” With that, he turned and exited the building, shutting the door behind him.
Elizabeth was horrified. She had known already that Mr. Wickham’s character was less than stellar. That he would stoop to kidnapping was unfathomable. As her mind raced through the facts and the possibilities, she became distraught. No one knew where she was, nor when she had left. She did not even know where she was! Worse, she had no way of escaping and making her way to help. There was no furniture in the room at all, and the manner in which Wickham had tied her made it impossible for her to walk, even if she could manage to stand.
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had not yet broken her fast. That was another disheartening thing. There was neither food nor water available to her. She had read enough to know that people did not survive long without them.
Elizabeth was, however, not one to give up easily. She tried repeatedly over the course of the day to find a way to escape her bindings. She wiggled herself all over the room, but the walls, though old, were well-constructed and the nails still firmly embedded in them, at least the ones she could reach. By the time the light began to dim, she was exhausted and hungrier and thirstier than she had ever been. She slept fitfully, her dreams filled with nightmares of what had happened and what might soon occur.
The first shafts of sunlight woke her the next morning, shining through cracks in the woo
den walls. Her mouth dry and her stomach hurting, she tried once more to find a way out. She was, however, much weaker, and before long, she stilled, remaining where she was. She began to move in and out of consciousness, dreaming of Darcy and of her family between periods of blackness.
Chapter 6
Darcy sat in the library at Netherfield attending to his correspondence. His pen moved steadily across the page, only stopping to dip into the inkpot, and his mouth moved as he wrote. His focus was centered on his letters, because he hoped to have them completed before his beloved arrived from Longbourn. He was so engrossed in his work that he did not hear his sister enter the room and take a seat on a nearby settee.
Georgiana, seeing that her brother was absorbed in his writing, did not disturb him at first. She opened her book, keeping one eye on the tome and one on Darcy. Finally, he folded the letter and addressed it, and she took the opportunity to attract his attention.
“Fitzwilliam,” she began, glancing at the clock on the mantel. “Was Miss Elizabeth not supposed to be here by now?”
Darcy pulled his watch out of his pocket, checking it against the clock. “She was.” His brows came together in a frown. “I wonder where she is?” He looked up and out the window, gathering his thoughts and ordering them, examining facts and discarding speculations. Finally, he came to a conclusion, which he shared with the patiently waiting Georgiana. “Let me send a note to Longbourn. I cannot imagine what would have kept her from coming, but perhaps there was an emergency.”
His sister watched as he wrote on another piece of paper, rising to ring the bell for him. “I hope all is well. Would she not have sent a note of her own if she could not come? Maybe she is just late.”
Darcy shook his head. “No, Elizabeth is never late, and she would have at least sent a servant to inform us if she were bowing out.”