Elizabeth Bennet hurried through the woods and into Hunsford as daylight swiftly left the sky. She dared not wait at an inn nearby for fear of Lady Catherine sending men to find her and bring her back in time for a horrid wedding and a future she might never escape.
The purse Anne de Bough had supplied weighed heavily in her pocket and after securing a post-chaise that would take her as far as London, Elizabeth breathed easier.
The driver helped her inside and she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the first part of the plan she and Anne de Bourgh devised had passed easily, though her heart still raced to think of it.
Her driver roused his footman and told the man they would travel through the night. Elizabeth had never done such a thing, and she was frightened to be alone, but her desperate situation made propriety a luxury she could not afford. The cold weight of the blade Anne had given her brought much comfort. She must do all she might to move daily toward Brambling Hall. Thoughts of returning to Netherfield Park were easily dismissed as she wished to be in the last place anyone might think to find her.
She sat back on the bench and removed her gloves and hat. She smoothed the traveling dress and admired the dark blue of the fabric. There were lovely bits of embroidery upon the sleeves she had not noticed until this moment, her escape from Rosings having distracted her mightily. The dress was given to her by Miss Anne, and she would treasure it until the day she might see the kind young woman once more. But she worried terribly for her new friend. Lady Catherine would be livid over Elizabeth’s absence and if she found her own daughter had plotted and funded her escape, well, it pained Elizabeth to think of the words she would use to hurt the gentle Anne de Bourgh.
The post-chaise moved along further from Hunsford and Elizabeth allowed herself the small luxury of a yawn and stretch. There was a book left on the bench beside her and she began to read until her eyes grew heavy. In but a few days’ time, she would throw open the doors of Brambling Hall and lock herself away until Jane and Bingley returned. Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne would come to her and all would be well.
In due time, the post-chaise stopped briefly and Elizabeth alit from the conveyance and went inside the inn with the footman to find something to eat. The thrill of her escape and the first bit of rest she had enjoyed outside the walls of Rosings gave her a hearty appetite.
As she sat waiting for a small basket of food, she spied a man and woman staring at her. She became most uncomfortable and sent the footman to retrieve the basket as she returned to the post-chaise. The pair followed her from the inn and came to walk beside her. Elizabeth kept her pace and tried to ignore the couple.
“I say, young lady, do you travel alone?” The handsome man asked as his lady friend took her hand gently.
Elizabeth eyed the pair with doubt, hoping only to disengage herself from their company. “I do not. I have a driver and a footman.”
The gentleman laughed and smiled down at Elizabeth Bennet. “We are bound for London and wondered if we might share your conveyance as far as you would allow?”
Elizabeth glanced between the two and while they were dressed as well as any gentleman or lady, a bit of unease settled in her mind. “I am not opposed to your presence, but the next stop in Hertfordshire will be for a mere moment and then we shall be traveling along to Derbyshire. I would see you are far as Meryton.”
The gentleman bowed and introduced himself as George Wickham and his lady friend as a Miss Sally Younge. Elizabeth’s unease at their company grew. She reluctantly offered her name in introduction.
Mr. Wickham assisted the ladies into the carriage and Elizabeth kept an eye on the odd couple. The man plied her with unending questions and she soon grew bored with his charming ways. Only when the name Darcy fell from his lips did she take notice.
“Are you acquainted with the Darcy family, then? I live near Pemberley with my sister, Jane Bingley and her husband.”
George Wickham’s eyes flashed his delight as he glanced to Miss Younge before offering his smooth lie. “Perhaps we might meet again in the future as the Darcys are family friends, you might say.”
Elizabeth nodded and pointed up the road. Meryton was coming into view and she would be relieved to have them gone from the post-chaise. She didn’t care for the man’s leering glances nor the woman’s strange smile.
George Wickham walked through Meryton in the early morning sunlight as though he were someone of great importance.
He stopped before a small inn and opened the door for his companion. They could afford but a day at the establishment before begging another ride. He bristled at his inability to have found a way to further impose upon the lovely Miss Bennet and her kindness.
However, his mind delighted at his stroke of profound luck in meeting a young woman well acquainted with the Darcy family. While Sally Younge slept on the bed in their small room, he paced the floor plotting how they might make use of their fortuitous meeting the night before.
He had wasted the last bit of money he’d swindled from Fitzwilliam Darcy after the Ramsgate debacle almost a year ago and with dear Georgiana dead not long since, he must find a way to refill his coffers, and soon.
He sat lounging in a chair watching his lady friend sleep, biding his time. Sally was a mean woman, but without her rest she was downright wicked. His mind satisfied at the idea of tracking Miss Bennet to her home in Derbyshire, he allowed himself to fall into a light sleep.
He was shaken from his slumber some hours later by the now well-rested Sally Younge.
He rose and washed his face before tossing the cloth in her direction. “Make yourself a fine lady and we shall seek our fortune. That Miss Bennet in the post-chaise is someone important to the Darcy family. Her manner, her dress, her ready admission of their connection. Yes, she will do.”
“But she has likely gone on to Derbyshire by this hour. I doubt we shall find her lingering about after the firm declaration she made of her travel plans.”
George Wickham winked at his accomplice and held out an arm for her, his dashing, gentlemanly manners ready to earn their keep. “We shall find a way, Sally. We always do.”