Chapter 13

Elizabeth breathed deeply, her heart racing at the idea of helping the couple. There was something amiss about the gentleman and the young lady but she could not place it. She was certain no harm would come to her now, not with the staff of Netherfield by her side and so made up her mind.

She nodded and allowed they might go as far as London. She was made to regret her decision as soon as they seated themselves across from her, for the man continued his questions and declarations in the same manner he had during their previous travels. As the carriage moved along through the night, Elizabeth was soothed by the presence of the servants from Netherfield. The droning nature of the man’s voice, coupled with the wine Jane had given her earlier, left her struggling to keep her eyes open.

Before long Elizabeth nodded off as the cool evening air moved through the carriage chilling those within. She heard whispers and snatches of conversation but thought it all a dream. Suddenly the carriage stopped and she came fully awake. Wickham jumped from the open door of the carriage and Miss Younge doubled over in her seat making a terrible noise.

The maid Eleanor clung to Elizabeth, her face a mask of concern. Moments later, the door of the carriage slammed shut and they were off again. Elizabeth leaned her head out the window and saw the driver and footman laying by the side of the road in the light of the swinging carriage lanterns.

She searched the ground as the carriage moved farther away, thinking Mr. Wickham must have been set upon by the same bandits once more, but could not find the body of a third man. Miss Younge sat up, a broad, wicked smile on her face, and laughed at Elizabeth’s agitation. “No need to worry for Mr. Wickham, miss. He is in the driver’s seat.”

Elizabeth rose swiftly, her aim the door of the carriage. Miss Younge knocked her easily back against her seat, pinning her roughly in place. She turned an object before Elizabeth’s eyes. “Try your tricks again and I shall cut your pretty maid, miss.”

Elizabeth saw the glint of the woman’s blade and breathed deeply, her mind racing along as quickly as their conveyance. “What does Mr. Wickham hope to gain by doing such an evil deed? I have no connections from which to seek a fortune as ransom.”

Miss Younge laughed at Elizabeth’s words. “We shall find the truth of your statement, miss. Wickham is a desperate man and were I you, I should consider doing all I might to insure my safety and honor.”

Elizabeth’s maid gasped at the woman’s implication and cast her eyes to the floor of the carriage. Her trembling body threatened to send Elizabeth into her own fit of terror.

Perhaps her captors believed they might extort a large sum from Charles Bingley? Elizabeth thought of Jane and the anguish her plight would bring to her sister. The ousted driver and footman would return to Netherfield with the news if Wickham had not killed them. “I speak the truth. My father is quite ill and my family is dependent upon my sister and her husband. I am certain they would pay whatever Mr. Wickham asks, within their ability.”

Miss Younge sat back on her bench and sighed deeply. “I have given you sound advice. If you choose to ignore it, I can do no more. Wickham is terribly erratic when funds are low. I do hope he spares your maid, at least.”

Elizabeth squeezed Eleanor’s hand for comfort as sobs racked the young woman’s thin body. Mr. Wickham’s partner in crime had a way with words, her presence far more menacing than Elizabeth had first thought.

Mr. Darcy sought to find all that he could of Elizabeth’s plan from his cousin as they rode for Hertfordshire. “If she had only waited a while longer, I would have her beside me now. Tell me, Anne, where was she bound? I imagine it must be Netherfield.”

Anne took her aunt’s hand and spoke freely in the Darcy carriage. For the first time in her life, she was at ease and without worry. “She would not say, William. I asked her, I did, but she was worried mother would force the truth from me. I cannot think she was planning to return to Netherfield for the fact Mr. Collins would certainly search there first thing.”

Mr. Darcy agreed with his cousin. Elizabeth would not choose to return to the place Mr. Collins had stolen her the night of the ball. She must be headed to London or Derbyshire.

Lady Anne sighed deeply, her remorse at having parted company with the lovely, young Elizabeth Bennet causing her melancholy to return. “Had we only gone to Hertfordshire from the start, we might have avoided the terrible scene at Rosings Park. I promise this, William, she shall never worry about that parson again. I only wish she knew it as she made her way to a safer abode.”

Mr. Darcy took his mother’s hand and held it tightly in his own. “I shall find her, mother, of that you may be certain. We shall go to Netherfield first, her carriage must have passed that way and she may have stopped only long enough to see Mrs. Bingley before traveling on.”

The hijacked carriage arrived in London but Elizabeth and her maid were bone tired, neither having slept with Sally Younge’s eyes upon them.

The door to the carriage opened and George Wickham smiled tenderly at his new friends. “You may find your accommodations lacking, Miss Bennet, for we cannot afford lodgings as comfortable as Netherfield and certainly none to approach the likes of Pemberley.”

Elizabeth stood to take his arm, her skin crawling with fear. She would do all she might to keep her young maid calm until they were settled. Mr. Wickham heard the unmistakable clink of coins as Elizabeth stood and turned to Miss Younge. “Search her now, for she has hidden a good deal of money on her person. I would dearly love to find it myself but I know you have quite a jealous streak, my dear.”

He winked and stood watching. Elizabeth would not endure such horrid actions against herself and angrily turned over the purse Anne de Bourgh had given her. Sally Younge laughed in Elizabeth’s face. “I had thought you more capable of a good fight, Miss Bennet. I find it must mean you are only a threat to the ladies at a fancy tea.”

Elizabeth kept her face serene as her emotions nearly choked her with their ferocity. Mr. Wickham and his crude companion would pay for their misdeeds; she would see to it the first chance that presented itself. She did not escape the prison of Rosings to fall into yet another trap. “Come, Eleanor, do not fear. These travelers have their money, a good bit of my possessions, and a fine carriage with horses. We may take our leave of them.”

George Wickham’s face fell into a sad mask as he helped Elizabeth and her maid from the coach. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Miss Bennet. This money shall only provide a night or two of luxury for our hard work. We shall require quite a bit more before you are to take your leave, as you say.”

Elizabeth lost the last bit of control she possessed and slapped George Wickham hard across his face. Sally Younge jumped from the carriage and tore the sleeve of Elizabeth’s dress with her knife.

Eleanor screamed and the woman was upon her before the young woman could blink. She twisted her hands in the maid’s hair and pulled viciously until the tears flowed freely down her captive’s terrified face.

George Wickham grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and shoved her into a dark doorway of what appeared to be a flop house with unsavory characters gathered about. He marched her up a rickety flight of stairs and pushed her through a flimsy door and upon a bare mattress in the floor. Eleanor soon found herself beside her mistress.

“Stay with them, Sally, while I go and secure our room for the next few nights. I shall send Terrence to guard them as I require your services in my bedchamber this evening.”

Elizabeth and Eleanor sat up, their stomachs churning at the picture of Wickham and his dreadful companion in the throes of passion. Elizabeth spoke before the man might take his leave. “We must not be left in such a state guarded by a man of questionable reputation, Mr. Wickham. Did you plan to gain money for us, I would think Mr. Bingley unhappy to find how we’ve been treated.”

Wickham sauntered over to her and knelt on the floor, his eyes gone soft and his voice a husky whisper. Elizabeth shuddered as his lips came close to her ear. “Mr. Darcy is the one who shall pay my little songbird. You gave me all I need to know when you brightened about your connection to the Darcy family when first we met. Tell me, has the proud man offered for your hand?”

Elizabeth turned her head away, bent on ignoring his question. Sally approached with her knife and held the point against Elizabeth’s throat. “If he did, we must not harm her, but if he did not, I would enjoy a moment alone to carve out an understanding with the chit.”

Elizabeth gazed into Eleanor’s eyes and swallowed the fear that consumed her. “He did, we were to meet here in London with my parents, yet they are too ill to travel. Mr. Darcy will kill you for this, surely you must understand that fact.”

Mr. Wickham stood and smirked as a bored gentleman in the grandest ballroom in London might. He pulled Sally away from Elizabeth and left the woman huddled on the floor with her maid, terrified of their circumstance.

If Elizabeth could escape this squalor, she could find Darcy House and gain the protection of the Darcy family. It did not matter she had lied about Mr. Darcy’s proposal to that animal Wickham. It mattered not that he had not offered for her yet. It had been the only way to keep Sally Younge from killing either her or the maid who trembled beside her.

Elizabeth remembered the blade Anne de Bourgh had given her. If this Terrence person, who was to guard them, tried so much as to speak to them, she would hide it in one hand and kill him if she must.