Chasing Elizabeth

by Jennifer Joy

  A perfect first kiss. Achingly sweet, and much too short.

  Fitzwilliam sat up, cradling her face in his hand, chunks of dried earth falling off her face as he rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Just like the day I met you,” he said. “Covered head to toe in mud. Part of me fell for you right then.”

  Elizabeth emerged from her glorious haze with a delighted sigh. “And now?”

  “Now, I love you with all my heart.”

  “I love you, too,” she said through her beaming smile.

  No sooner had she said the words than the same nasal voice which had impertinently tried to interrupt her kiss said, “This is an unexpected sight, but a welcome one given the circumstances.” His shadow covered them. He was none other than the Prince Regent.

  “Rise,” he ordered.

  Fitzwilliam pulled Elizabeth to her feet. Her hair curled wildly around her, and for a brief second, she did not know if she ought to bow or curtsy. Her cover was blown, but Fitzwilliam still held her hand. “Your Royal Highness,” they said.

  The Prince looked down his nose at their stooped figures, his gaze narrowing at Elizabeth. “You pushed me.”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue.

  Jim’s childish voice rose in protest. “She saved your life, by golly!” Guards seized him, but he shouted louder, “And then, Mr. Darcy jumped in front of Miss Elizabeth and saved her! They’re heroes!”

  Who knew what Jim’s fate might have been had several cries and a grievous wail not drowned out their interview?

  “Darcy! Darcy, quick!” Colonel Fitzwilliam shouted from across the track.

  Darcy held his breath until Prinny signaled he could go. Elizabeth’s hand firmly in his, he pulled her along as they crossed the racetrack to where Richard knelt on the ground over a recumbent figure. The crowd thinned, allowing them to pass.

  Croft shouted, “Bring a surgeon!”

  Lady Lucas knelt at her son’s side, crying, “My dear boy, my sweet John!” She stroked his face, kissing his forehead. “Hold on, my child. Stay strong a bit more until the surgeon comes.” As if his injury was no worse than a scraped knee, nothing a kiss could not cure.

  Sir William stood behind her, stunned, held upright by George on one side and Miss Lucas on the other.

  Darcy asked Richard, “What of The Four Horsemen?”

  “My men have them surrounded, but unless we can tie them to this act of treason, we do not have enough proof to hold them.”

  John’s breath rattled. “My hat?” he whispered.

  “I have it.” Charlotte held it out for him to see.

  A peaceful expression crossed her brother’s face. “Keep it.” His gaze wandered wildly until he settled on his father. “They said they would kill you. I am so sorry.” His breath wheezed, then stopped abruptly as he relaxed against the ground.

  “John!” wept Lady Lucas. Sir William bowed his head, his shoulders slumped and shaking.

  Miss Lucas embraced her mother. George wrapped his arm around his father, supporting him while looking at the lifeless form of his brother with a blank expression.

  “Bring The Four Horsemen here. Let them see what they have done,” Richard ordered.

  Darcy heard Elizabeth gasp as the four men were brought forward. She whispered, “Evil men wear black and trim their side whiskers at sharp angles. These men look like grandfathers.”

  “They seem harmless until you look them in the eyes.” He felt their flint-like glares on him.

  “I see what you mean,” Elizabeth whispered, clasping his hand more firmly.

  The Prince, surrounded by dozens of guards, approached. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “These men are my friends. I demand you release them at once.” Pointing at John, he said, “You have your assassin. I will order an investigation to be conducted on his family, and they will be charged with sedition for their role in my attempted assassination.”

  Sir Erasmus bowed. “You are wise, Your Royal Highness. The evidence against them is great. A last-minute entry in the Derby. The horse alone must have cost the family a fortune, not to mention the trainers and fees the Jockey Club would impose upon them.”

  Sir Harcourt added, “I would not be surprised if you found a large deposit in his bank accounts made just before the race.”

  Against the canvas of his blanched complexion, Sir William’s cheeks appeared strikingly red. “Preposterous! There must be a mistake.”

  Elizabeth rose onto her toes, whispering in Darcy’s ear, “Why did John want Charlotte to keep his hat? Might he have hidden something in it?”

  Elizabeth’s instincts had proved to be correct too many times to be ignored.

  “Miss Lucas, would you be so kind as to search your brother’s hat?” he asked.

  The crowd went silent around them, collectively leaning forward as Miss Lucas released her hold on her mother and turned her brother’s beaver hat around in her hands. With anxiety inducing slowness, her fingers prodded over the hat and around the band, tugging at the lining and tearing it from the crown.

  Finally, when Darcy’s lungs screamed for breath, she pulled out a folded paper and held it up. “A letter!”

  “Allow me,” the Prince said, holding out his hand.

  Reluctantly, Charlotte gave him the letter.

  Squinting at the page, the Prince’s eyes roved over the page rapidly until they widened at a certain passage. He paused, peering over the page at the four gentlemen he called “friends,” and then resumed reading more deliberately.

  When he was finished, he folded the letter and tucked it up his sleeve. Raising his bejeweled hand, he pointed at Sir William.

  Elizabeth clutched Fitzwilliam’s hand.

  “Sir William, you and your family are free to go. Your son has paid for his sins.” The prince swiveled until he aimed at The Four Horsemen. “Seize them!”

  In a frenzy of activity that was over in a blink, the Prince’s guards closed around the four men, clapping irons on their hands and feet, and leading The Four Horsemen to a barred carriage with a locked shacklebolt door.

  Darcy watched in a dreamlike silence as the carriage jolted into motion, rolling away, rolling out of his life.

  “It is done. You are done.” Richard said.

  Darcy could hardly believe it.

  With a departing jab on his shoulder, Richard turned to Croft. “Have you ever considered a different kind of assignment?”

  Still, Darcy stood there, watching the carriage get smaller until it disappeared down the lane.

  It was not until Mr. Bennet stepped in front of him that his wits returned to him fully.

  Looking pointedly between Darcy and Elizabeth, he said, “I suspect there is something you wish to discuss with me?”

  Darcy bowed his head, lifting Elizabeth’s hand and cradling it to his chest. “Mr. Bennet, I love your daughter. I wish to spend the rest of my life with her if you will allow it.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled, his eyes glistening. “I could not consent to a lesser man. It would be my honor to include you in our family, Mr. Darcy. Now, if you will excuse me, I do believe there is another young gentleman eager to make a similar request.”

  Sure enough, Bingley was on his way over.

  Leaving Bingley to Mr. Bennet, Darcy returned his full attention to Elizabeth. He reached into the pocket under the tear in his jacket. Emerald malachite, bright turquoise, and yellow and orange aventurine glimmered in the springtime sun. He rubbed his finger over the lead bullet lodged in the middle of the tranquil scene.

  “My brooch!” Elizabeth reached out for it.

  That was what he thought she reached for until her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers wound through his hair.

  They all gathered around Trophonius’ stall, a motley assortment of friends and family with much to attend to and no desire to part from one another’s company. Elizabeth had pinned her hair up and changed back into her gown, tucking the jockey silks into her trunk as keepsakes … and on the slight chance she
might need them again. One never knew…

  Sir William had arranged for a cart to convey his eldest son to Lucas Lodge. He would be buried on their land. They would depart for Hertfordshire on the morrow.

  Trophonius, ridden by Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was disqualified. The winner of the Epsom Derby was Phantom, ridden by a male jockey whose name Elizabeth did not care to remember. She knew the truth, and no official could take her win away from her.

  Sir William was disappointed. “All the investment for naught,” he said, sadly shaking his head.

  George draped his arm over his father’s shoulders. “Not all is lost, Father. The events of the day were so spectacular, our horse is certain to make the papers as the first to cross the finish line. We may not get to keep the winning title, but he will earn us a fortune in our breeding stables.”

  Sir William cheered remarkably. “True! They are as much yours as they are mine, now.” His melancholy returned, and a silence fell over the group.

  Many times, Charlotte had expressed her wish that George would be the one to inherit rather than John. Their estate was more secure, but they would all suffer the loss of the price.

  Papa leaned closer to Elizabeth. “I believe it best for us to take our leave, Lizzy. We must let the family mourn.”

  Fitzwilliam bowed. “Pray excuse me as well. I must meet up with my cousin. We still have a great deal of work to do.”

  The three of them turned to leave but were prevented from going very far when the Prince’s carriage drove up the narrow path in front of the stables, blocking their way.

  They stepped close to the building to allow him to pass, but the Prince seemed to have a different idea. The carriage came to a stop, and the door opened.

  “Rise, please,” he insisted when they dropped into bows and curtsies. “I must depart for London, but I had hoped to address you before taking my leave. It would have been a horrible blow to England to have their monarch taken from them only months after the beginning of my regency. Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet, I owe you my life. I have learned the details surrounding your roles in my rescue and am well aware of the sacrifice you were willing to give on my behalf. People accuse me of being extravagant in taste, but I will never allow them to accuse me of being stingy in praise and gratitude to those deserving of it.”

  At this, he looked directly at Elizabeth. “If anyone questions your reputation, they may answer to me. You are to be proclaimed a hero in the newspapers along with The Red Campion, to whom I am deeply indebted.”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head, but the Prince anticipated his refusal to accept more than the monarch’s gratitude.

  “I wish to bestow upon you a knighthood, Mr. Darcy. Parliament will be certain to approve my petition once they are told the particulars.”

  Sir Fitzwilliam. That had a nice sound to it. Sir Fitzwilliam and Lady Darcy sounded even better, Elizabeth mused.

  Looking past them to Sir William, the Prince said, “I wish you to know that I harbor no grudge against you. Thanks in great part to your eldest son’s letter, I now know who the traitors were who have been selling secrets and jeopardizing my men for their own gain. They were false friends, and it was your son who helped expose them. I will remember where your loyalties proved to be when you handed his letter over to me.”

  Elizabeth thought kindly of the Prince for granting Sir William a brief exchange, a full pardon, and another story he would entertain his guests with for years to come.

  The door closed, and the Prince Regent departed.

  Only Jim had words. “Blimey!”

  Epilogue

  One month later…

  “A wedding and a knighthood ceremony in the same week! I never thought I would say this, but I very much look forward to some calm and quiet.” Elizabeth smiled at Fitzwilliam from across the carriage and wondered how long it would take until he joined her on her side.

  It did not take long.

  Slipping beside her, he raised his elbow so that she could wrap her arm through his and lean against his shoulder.

  He kissed her forehead. “Your wish is my command, Lady Darcy. Although I believe our families have other plans.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “My mother wishes to parade through town so she can presume just as she did three weeks ago at Mr. Bingley’s ball.”

  “She had much to celebrate,” Fitzwilliam teased.

  “At least she has finally forgiven me for returning to Longbourn before either Jane or I were engaged.”

  Fitzwilliam chuckled. “I will never forget how she stood up to my aunt Catherine at our wedding, threatening to send for Prinny when my aunt tried to stop the ceremony.”

  That had been a sight. Her mother had come dangerously close to tackling the imperious woman to the floor. Lady Catherine would never stoop so low when she could order a servant to do it for her. “They are not so different, are they?”

  “Mercenary regarding their daughters’ prospects?”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Precisely. I was happy to meet Anne and see for myself that she was as determined to avoid the assumed engagement as you were. Had my mother been in Lady Catherine’s position, I have no doubt she would have presumed an attachment despite your repeated proclamations that you did not intend to ever marry.” She peeked up at him and continued, “I am so glad you changed your mind.”

  “You convinced me.” He tilted her chin up.

  The Four Horsemen had been tried and convicted as traitors. They were drawn and quartered publicly, a warning to those inclined to follow in their footsteps or avenge their gruesome deaths on those responsible for their capture. She and Fitzwilliam had read about it in the newspapers. One journalist pointed out that loyalties to The Four Horsemen would dry up once their fortunes were seized. And so it proved to be. They truly were free.

  The carriage came to a halt outside Darcy House.

  Fitzwilliam’s smile faded. “What is he doing here?” he growled.

  Elizabeth peeked out the window to see Richard wiping his boots. She was perplexed, but the colonel was always good company. That, and he had taken a noticeable interest in Charlotte, who seemed equally content to receive his attentions. Elizabeth could not imagine a more suitable match.

  The colonel chattered until Fitzwilliam led them upstairs to his study. Elizabeth would leave if she was asked, but she had no desire to part from Fitzwilliam.

  Closing the door and helping himself to the brandy on the sideboard, the colonel said, “Leo would like to make a proposition.”

  “Leo?” Elizabeth asked.

  “The name of our organization. It is short for Leonidas.”

  “The warrior king who held off a Persian army with only three hundred men?” Elizabeth had always loved that story and admired the men in it.

  Richard grinned. “A small but powerful and effective force. Just like us.”

  Fitzwilliam glared daggers at his cousin, who chose to ignore him and continued, “Leo wishes to arrange your wedding tour on the continent. As a newlywed couple, you would prove invaluable in infiltrating another organization they have their eye on. It would mean a great deal of travel, but you would have many adventures to relate to your grandchildren one day.”

  Elizabeth watched for Fitzwilliam’s immediate dismissal, but it did not come. He hesitated.

  Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. “I make no decisions without first consulting my wife. If a life of travel and adventure would make her happiest, then I am willing to accept.”

  He was doing this for her! Elizabeth’s heart brimmed with joy. What a wonderful, magnificent man! Her choice was an easy one. With immense pride and complete sincerity, she replied, “I have always craved adventure. Fitzwilliam knows that, and I love him for putting my desires before his own. But we cannot accept. I long for a different sort of adventure, of a long life together with my husband and the family we will have. That is my greatest wish.”

  Fitzwilliam pressed her hand against his cheek. “Do you mean it?”

  �
�With all my heart.”

  “Then you will be content with a wedding tour around England? I thought we could start at Ramsgate. Georgiana has taken an acute interest in the place. I had thought we might help her set up a residence there before continuing on our tour.”

  That reminded Elizabeth. She had met most of Fitzwilliam’s family and a great many of his friends at the knighting ceremony, one of them a man she did not think it wise to trust. “About that. Did you notice the way Georgiana blushed whenever Mr. Wickham addressed her?”

  Richard exclaimed. “Wickham? He and Georgiana are childhood friends. She would never—”

  Fitzwilliam shushed his cousin. “I want to hear. Do you not think it wiser to listen to my wife’s intuition when it comes to the happiness of Georgiana? After all, she suspected I was a spy from the start.”

  They faced Elizabeth, lips shut, eyes intent, and hearts on their sleeves.

  She tried to be tactful and kind. “I only wish to warn you not to trust Mr. Wickham so much around Georgiana. She is young and impressionable, and he is charming, handsome, and attentive. Even with me, a recently married lady, his manners were flirtatious. I do not trust him.”

  The colonel rubbed his chin. Fitzwilliam massaged his temples. Their concern for their charge was adorable, their ignorance regarding the workings of young ladies, endearing.

  Finally, Fitzwilliam said, “I suppose Georgiana can stay with your mother until Elizabeth and I return from our tour.”

  Richard nodded. “She would love that. Georgiana has become a daughter to her over the years.”

  Elizabeth admired her husband all the more for always thinking of her and his sister foremost, but she would be his champion as much as he was hers. “What about Pemberley?” she asked.

  He squeezed her hand. “Pemberley will still be there when we return.”