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Elizabeth felt the breath catch in her throat as she recognised the handsome features of the tall figure in the scarlet coat and black cape. She saw him direct his gaze towards her and his eyes lit up as he beheld her face.
“Madam.” He swept her a flamboyant bow. “How delightful to make your acquaintance again.”
Lydia turned round eyes on Elizabeth. “Lizzy? Do you know him?”
“I... I...” Elizabeth stammered, wondering desperately how to answer the question.
Yes, she did know him. She had encountered him one night during her recent stay at Netherfield Park, the country manor currently rented by Mr Bingley, Jane’s most ardent admirer. Jane had taken ill during a visit to Netherfield Park and been obliged to remain there until she had made a full recovery. Elizabeth had gone to keep her sister company and what had been expected to be a tedious stay—coping with the indifferent company of Mr Bingley’s two sisters and his arrogant friend, Mr Darcy—had turned into an adventure fraught with mystery and intrigue.
Elizabeth could still scarce believe all that had happened in the four days while she was staying at Netherfield Park. One of those events had been her meeting with Wicked George the Highwayman during a solitary stroll one night. Then, as now, he had been overwhelmingly charming, with the gallant manners one would associate with a gentleman and not an uncouth criminal. And though Elizabeth had been presented with ample evidence of his intention to steal items of value from the house, nevertheless she had found it difficult to completely despise him. There was such an air of openness and humour about his countenance, as to seemingly vouch for his goodness and amiability.
“I had the good fortune to meet this fair lady during one of her walks in the grounds of Netherfield Park,” said Wicked George. “I must say, the meeting was a most pleasurable one and I had long been hoping to repeat the experience.”
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Jane look at her reproachfully. She knew that her sister would be wondering why she had not shared these confidences with her—indeed, if only Jane knew how many secrets she had kept from her with regards to their stay at Netherfield!
“It was not a social exchange,” she said, hurrying to refute the impression he was giving. “We met briefly during a nocturnal excursion of mine to cure a headache and I found the encounter a most disturbing experience.”
“Madam! You wound me to the heart!” Wicked George exclaimed, clutching his hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion. His laughing blue eyes invited them to enjoy the joke with him and Kitty and Lydia burst into giggles. Jane frowned at them, then looked at Elizabeth expectantly, but before either could say anything, Mr Collins suddenly leapt forwards.
“Away with you, brigand!” cried Mr Collins, flapping his hands in front of him.
He tripped over a rut in the road and fell face down in the mud. Elizabeth saw Wicked George’s lips twitch and she had to admit that her cousin did present the most comical spectacle. Jane hurried to help Mr Collins to his feet. He staggered upright, his face as red as beetroot and his clothes covered with mud.
“I have no wish to inconvenience such lovely young ladies,” Wicked George said with another gallant bow. “But alas, I do require recompense for my troubles. Therefore, may I be so bold as to ask for the donation of any monies upon your person?”
Kitty and Lydia immediately began digging in their reticules, eagerly pulling out what meagre funds they had.
Wicked George waved their offers away with a smile. “No, no, I cannot deprive such beautiful ladies as yourselves.” He nodded to Mr Collins. “But this gentleman here can certainly share the delights of his purse with me.”
“How dare you!” spluttered Mr Collins, clutching his side where he no doubt kept his purse tucked away in a pocket. “I will have you know, I am well connected, you villain. This affront will reach the ears of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and—”
“I quake in my boots,” said Wicked George with a laugh, which brought an answering chuckle to Elizabeth’s throat, and she had to struggle to maintain her composure. She was horrified at herself. It would not do to have such empathy with a criminal! And yet she could not help being touched by his easy manner and bold humour.
Wicked George held his hand out to Mr Collins. “Your purse, sir.”
Mr Collins huffed and spluttered, but at length drew out a fat purse from an inner pocket. He handed it over with ill will and turned away with an affronted sniff as the highwayman tipped his hat and said, “I’m much obliged, sir.”
He looked around at the rest of them. “It has been an unexpected delight today to meet with so much beauty. I shall treasure the memory and hope to have the pleasure of seeing your lovely countenances again ’ere long!”
Kitty and Lydia giggled and even Mary simpered. Only Jane looked slightly disapproving. Elizabeth had to admit that while his compliments were exaggerated, his manners were charming and she could not help smiling at his flippant flattery.
Then they heard the sound of hoof beats rapidly approaching, and in a minute two riders appeared around the bend of the road behind them.
“Mr Bingley!” said Jane in tones of delight.
The newcomers were indeed Mr Bingley and his friend, Mr Darcy—the latter looking his usual stern, haughty self, astride his big black stallion. Unlike his friend, Bingley, whose amiable countenance had already broken into a ready smile, Darcy’s handsome face was inscrutable, his dark eyes guarded.
“Oh, sirs!” cried Mr Collins. “You are just in time! Assist me in apprehending this villain! He is attempting to rob us!”
“A highwayman?” demanded Bingley as they arrived next to the group. “Is this the scoundrel who was stealing from my house?” He swung down from his horse and hurried to Jane’s side. “Miss Bennet! Are you unharmed?” he asked.
“She is fine!” said Mr Collins peevishly. “But he has stolen my purse! Make haste! He is getting away!”
Wicked George had taken advantage of the commotion to dart to the side of the group. He hesitated, looking for a moment as if he intended to swing himself back over the parapet and dive once more beneath the bridge. Then he changed his mind and turned instead towards Bingley’s horse. He ran up and grabbed the animal’s reins, attempting to hoist himself into the saddle.
“Fie!” said Bingley indignantly. “That’s my horse!”
Darcy had been in the act of dismounting as Wicked George ran up to Bingley’s horse, and now he jumped down and charged towards the highwayman. Then Elizabeth saw the most extraordinary thing. As Darcy advanced, Wicked George turned and the two men faced each other properly for the first time. Darcy froze in his tracks, the colour leaving his face. Wicked George took a step back, his own face flushing with colour. The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Then Wicked George swung himself up into the saddle of Bingley’s horse and in two seconds was galloping away.
“Darcy?” said Bingley in confusion. “What’s the matter with you, man?”
“You let him escape!” hissed Mr Collins. “You—”
Darcy swung around and gave Mr Collins a quelling look. The clergyman spluttered into silence. Darcy said not a word, but returned to his own horse and stood with his gaze fixed to the distance, his expression brooding. Elizabeth looked at him thoughtfully. He gave the appearance of a man indulging in a myriad of recollections and none of them pleasant.
Bingley, after a perplexed look at his friend, turned back to Jane and began enquiring once more after her well-being. To her repeated reassurances that she had not been harmed in the encounter, he finally declared himself satisfied and asked if they required an escort back to Longbourn.
“Thank you, sir, but as a matter of fact, we are on our way into Meryton to see my Aunt Philips,” Jane explained. “We are all unharmed and I believe we will continue with our original plan. It is but a few hundred yards down this road. But what of you, sir? How will you return home without your mount?”
“Ah, fortunately Netherfield Park is only a few miles from here and the distance should not prove laborious for Darcy’s horse, even with two riders,” said Bingley, waving a hand carelessly. “If you are certain that you do not require my protection, I will take my leave now.”
Jane smiled at him and, after bowing to her and the rest of the party, Bingley hurried over to join his silent friend. In a moment, the two had mounted Darcy’s great black steed and were cantering away.
“La, but what a lark!” said Lydia excitedly as soon as the gentlemen were out of earshot. “Did you see? I fancy that the great Mr Darcy was afraid of Wicked George! He let him escape and made no move to stop him. What—”
“Lydia, be quiet,” admonished Jane. “We do not know the particulars of the situation. Mr Darcy may have had good reasons for his actions.”
Lydia was very much taken, though, with the idea of Mr Darcy being frightened by Wicked George, and despite Jane’s continuing disapproval she spent the rest of the journey into Meryton whispering and giggling with Kitty over this suggestion. The one advantage of the whole interlude was that Mr Collins seemed greatly subdued after his experience and talked a great deal less the rest of the way, for which Elizabeth was heartily grateful.
She herself was occupied with pondering over Darcy’s strange behaviour. She was certain that there was more to the encounter than had met the eye. From what she had witnessed, there was no question that the two men had known each other in the past and that the acquaintance had not been a casual one. But Wicked George was a highwayman! What possible connection could he have to a respectable gentleman like Mr Darcy?
She remembered the last night of her stay at Netherfield Park when Wicked George had been discovered in the woods and Darcy had given chase. It had been dark then, and Darcy must not have seen the highwayman’s face as the latter bent over his horse to make his escape. Today was the first time he had seen Wicked George properly in full daylight and it was evident that Darcy had been shocked by the recognition.
The question was—why?
