The Darcy carriage arrived at Netherfield hours after Elizabeth had gone. There was great shouting and trouble in the entry and Mr. Darcy warned his mother and his cousin to remain inside the carriage.
He ran up the steps and into the entry to find a driver and footman being tended by the apothecary Jones from Meryton. The men had cuts and bruises, and their clothing was torn, yet they seemed well enough.
“Charles,” he called, “what has happened?”
Charles hurried down the stairs motioning for his friend and his servants to lower their voices. “Jane is just now settled upstairs and I would not have bad news delivered where she might hear it.”
Mr. Darcy followed his friend to the study, sparing a glance for the men in the entry. They must have been set upon by bandits in the road, for there was no carriage in the drive save his own.
Charles slammed a fist into the wall beside the door after Mr. Darcy entered the study and cursed terribly. Mr. Darcy had only ever heard such language from the likes of his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, but the colonel was a soldier and colorful language was de rigueur in his rough society of men. Mr. Darcy placed a hand on his friend’s arm, eager for news of his beloved. “Is Miss Elizabeth here?”
Mr. Bingley shook his head and spoke barely above a whisper. “Lizzy and a maid were in the carriage my men lost. Not far from Meryton, Elizabeth allowed a man and woman to join their party on the way to London. The man stopped the carriage and attacked the footman once they were a few hours down the road. He managed to knock the driver from his seat.”
Mr. Darcy tried to rush past Charles, but was gripped about the shoulders and shoved against the study door. “The man was traveling with a woman who called him Wickham. The driver is certain of it.”
Mr. Darcy lunged at the mention of the vile man’s name, his anger at Elizabeth’s predicament causing all reason to leave him. Charles stepped back and held up his hands.
“I am going after them! Keep my mother and cousin safe here at Netherfield until I return with Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy strode quickly from the study and broke into a run once he cleared the front doors of Netherfield. Mr. Bingley followed him out and went to Lady Anne as she was helped from the carriage. She held onto his arm demanding an answer for the chaos they met upon their arrival. “What has happened?”
Charles Bingley took his best friend’s mother and cousin inside Netherfield and had them sit in the parlor until Mr. Darcy had galloped away, hell bent for leather.
“Mr. Bingley, why are there injured men in your entry and why has my son alit from this house in a blind fury?” She feared her dear friend, Miss Elizabeth, was the reason and she moved closer to her namesake on the sofa. Anne de Bourgh took her aunt’s trembling hands and held them as gently as she might. She too feared there must be some terrible tragedy and fought back tears of regret.
“Lady Anne, your son has commanded I keep the two of you safe here until he returns. Miss Elizabeth’s carriage has been hijacked, by the reports of my driver and footman. She has only a young maid to rely upon.”
Lady Anne rose swiftly from her seat, a hand pressed to her mouth. “It cannot be. The poor girl has only just escaped Rosings and that horrid parson. Who would do such a thing? Pray God she does not come to harm.”
Mr. Bingley came and stood beside Lady Anne for fear she might faint. Anne sobbed on the sofa, bitter tears of frustration at her inability to see Miss Elizabeth safely to her destination. “I ought to have sent her in a carriage from Rosings with an armed driver and footman. Instead, I gave her a small knife and a purse to carry to her doom.”
Lady Anne sat again beside her niece and comforted the young woman. “Miss Elizabeth is strong and has her wits about her. Surely with the help of the maid, she will find a way to escape her captor. William will find her, and the persons responsible will suffer greatly, on that you may depend.”
She glanced to Charles Bingley, sensing his reticence to speak further on the matter. “What more is there to tell, son? Who has taken our dear Miss Bennet?”
He paced before the ladies, his heart broken to have to speak the next words to Lady Anne. “We believe it was George Wickham and Miss Younge.”
Lady Anne fell against her niece, the wail of pain tearing from her throat causing the butler and the men in the entry to come rushing into the room.
Jane appeared behind them, her hair loose and her hand upon her middle. Charles bowed his head and prayed for the strength to tell his wife of her sister’s dire situation.
“Lady Anne, I have not prepared your rooms but I shall call for the maids to set fires in two adjoining suites.”
Anne stood and Charles introduced her to Jane. “This is Miss Anne de Bourgh, she is Darcy’s cousin from Kent. I fear Lizzy was gone before Darcy arrived at Rosings.”
Lady Anne stood with the help of her niece and went to Jane. “My dear, I shall leave for London and Darcy House in the morning. You must keep Anne safe here with you and remain strong for your sister.”
Jane shook her head, her face stricken by the news of her sister’s trials. “What has happened to Lizzy?”
She turned to Charles, the tears spilling from her eyes as she stepped into his arms.
He smoothed her hair and held her firmly. The child between them moved and he bit back the sorrow he shared with Jane. “Lizzy will be home before you know it and none the worse for her ordeals. She is the strongest young woman and Mr. Darcy will see she is safe. I swear it to you.”
Charles led Jane upstairs and stayed by her side throughout the night, hoping Anne might manage to tend her aunt with the help of his servants. He had wanted desperately to leave with Darcy, for Lizzy was his own sister now and he would do no less in securing her future than he would for Louisa or Caroline. He simply prayed through the night for Mr. Darcy and the young women held by the wicked George Wickham.
Elizabeth eyed Terrence and kept a strong grip on her knife. She stood now by the lone window with her maid speaking in hushed whispers of London and all the fine shoppes to maintain her own sanity as much as that of her young charge.
Being in the same city as Mr. Darcy was a torture under these circumstances and she longed to run into the night and hire a post-chaise to take them to Darcy House. But knowing London as she did from her visits over the years with the Gardiners, she and the maid must not be upon these streets after dark, not in this section of town as women alone.
Terrence slid his bulk down the wall by the door and Elizabeth released the tension in her arms and back from clenching the small dagger Anne had given her. She did not trust the man but she could not keep herself in a fight posture for much longer without becoming useless if he approached them.
The maid was pleased to have seen Wickham and Miss Younge take their leave and had ceased with her trembling and fear. For that, Elizabeth was grateful. A clear mind would help them think of a way out of their situation.
She believed they would see no more of their captors this night, not with the purse full of money they had taken from her. She hoped they drank themselves unconscious and awoke as though a thousand horse hooves pounded through their skulls.
She glanced at the door beside Terrence who seemed about to drift off to sleep. There was the small window beside them but there was no ledge nor way down for a woman in a dress. Elizabeth would not give up.
Eleanor pulled out a small purse of coins and handed them to Elizabeth. “From your sister Jane. She wanted to come with us but you know Mr. Bingley would not hear of it.”
Elizabeth’s heart lifted and she helped the maid to lie down behind her on the tattered mattress and kept watch while she slept. When the weak rays of dawn pierced the gray skies of London and crept across the floor, Elizabeth moved about the room as quickly and quietly as she might.
Terrence was snoring so loudly; Elizabeth was certain he would awaken himself before much longer. She gently nudged Eleanor from her fitful dreams and hurried her to the door. If they could slip into the hallway and go slowly down the rickety steps, they could find a conveyance to take them to Darcy House. Mr. Wickham would not dare to seek them there.
Once in the street, Elizabeth pulled Eleanor close and with their heads down, they hurried up the street. “Listen, Eleanor, if we are parted do you know the way to Darcy House?” The young maid nodded, fearing to even speak.
A wicked laugh found them around the first corner. “Well, see what we have here. Wickham, go finish Terrence, he has failed us one time too many.”
Wickham started to refuse this notion but Sally Younge wanted what she wanted. Wickham took the maid with him, amidst much arguing from Miss Bennet and wretched sobbing from the maid.
Miss Younge took Elizabeth by the arm and pinched her flesh hard. “Unless you would prefer to die today, I suggest you follow my instructions. I kept you here with me to dissuade poor Wickham from his base nature. The maid won’t tempt him but he would compromise you without a second thought.”
Elizabeth could not stop the tremble that passed through her body.
“George loves beautiful young women, his desire for them has always been his downfall. Miss Darcy proved that. But she paid, she did.”
Sally’s eyes had grown brighter and her breathing increased as she spoke. Elizabeth had never been so frightened in her life. The woman was truly and completely mad! In spite of her fear, Elizabeth asked what the woman meant, her voice hoarse. “What has Miss Darcy to do with this?”
“Let’s have an understanding, Miss Bennet. George loved Miss Darcy, much as it killed me. When she became frightened to go along with our plan, George returned her to Mr. Darcy in the hope he might ask her hand in years to come. I hated him for that! George is mine.”
Elizabeth struggled to breathe evenly. Was this woman beside her, the one who held her arm in a vise-like grip, responsible for the death of Georgiana Darcy? She found it difficult to believe every word of hatred that flowed from the woman. Surely George Wickham would not have allowed her to kill the young woman he loved?
Elizabeth took the purse Eleanor had given her and opened it quickly, causing the gold coins to clink and roll against the ground. The surprise, combined with the flash of gold in the early light, had Sally Younge on her knees scratching about the cobblestones.
Elizabeth turned then and ran for all she was worth. She heard the woman cursing her, the pounding of her feet, the screams echoing in the quiet streets.
Yet she managed to escape the woman and hid in doorways and shadows until she had come at last to a post-chaise. When she gave the name Darcy House to the driver, he hurried away, unconcerned about the payment for his services. She would send several footmen back for Eleanor.