Darcy had summarily dismissed the notion of ending their arrangement and after her initial fears had ebbed, Elizabeth found she was relieved he had contrived another solution. It would most surely devastate her mother when the courtship ended; Elizabeth did not look forward to the day she had to bear that news.
Her departure from Longbourn had been uneventful, almost unremarkable. Mrs. Bennet was adamant that Darcy’s wishes must be granted with utmost alacrity, so much so that Elizabeth’s trunks had been packed two full days ahead of her departure. Elizabeth had promised to write Jane as soon as she arrived, so as to report most faithfully whether Georgiana Darcy could really be so affable as Mr. Bingley, as Darcy had claimed.
Darcy himself came to see her off that morning.
Lydia and Kitty had been beside themselves with envy, and had spent the morning arguing noisily over some young officer newly arrived in Meryton. Mary’s repeated requests for silence went unnoticed by all, except their father. Mr. Bennet was inured to the din, after more than twenty years in this house, but he looked on Mary with sympathy. He’d wished for the same for so long, he could not help but commiserate, loudly. This merely added to the cacophony, but in her haste to leave Elizabeth did not see the need to mention it.
As far as she could tell, Elizabeth’s family was safe, and as sound as they might ever be.
It was no small consolation. Yet Elizabeth found her mind was not at peace, and so she resolved to visit Georgiana as Darcy requested, but to stay instead with her aunt and uncle Gardiner. Their home might not be quite so fine as the Darcys house in Mayfair, but Gracechurch Street was respectable and the Gardiners were sensible and good humored. Mrs. Gardiner had written already twice that year requesting the company of her niece; Elizabeth would satisfy that request presently.
Twilight approached when the driver finally stopped in front of a salubrious door in Mayfair. The journey had taken longer than anticipated, but Elizabeth looked forward to making Miss Darcy’s acquaintance over what promised to be an excellent meal. Elizabeth glanced up and down the street as the coachman handed her down. She’d never been to this part of London before.
On bidding her good evening the driver departed with her things, under instructions to repair to the Gardiners home in Gracechurch Street and bearing a message she’d scrawled to Mrs. Gardiner informing them of her impending arrival. She would dine with Miss Darcy, then retire to her uncle’s house. Perhaps then Elizabeth could finally rest.
As Elizabeth knocked, the door came slightly ajar. She pressed forward, calling, “Hello?”
The door’s progress was halted by something near the wall. Elizabeth tipped her head around it to call out again, only to have her arm seized in a painful grip.
The hand on her arm yanked her forward through the door before slamming it shut behind her.
“What are you about?” she cried. “Unhand me this instant!”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, your ladyship,” said a sarcastic, drawling male voice. The owner of the hand and voice kept her facing down the hall, away from him. “Oy, Captain!”
Elizabeth could now see what had stopped the door, and it did nothing to dispel her fear. The poor butler was slumped against the wall behind it, his feet splayed wide. Blood dripped from a wound on the side of his head. She could not tell whether the man still breathed. Her fear mounted.
“Let me go!” she shouted. She began to twist, trying to free her arm. “Miss Darcy!”
The man behind her laughed; the sound was cruel and rough against the back of her neck. Elizabeth stopped twisting as a deeper fear bloomed beneath her outrage.
“No need fer yellin’, miss,” said the man as he tightened his grip on arms. “Wouldn’t want to be drawin’ any undue attention, mind. Besides, your friend’ll be along in a tic.”
“You have Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Now me, miss, I just want me a warm meal and a damned drink right about now,” he said, grumbling. “But as for the rest, I’ll let you ask the Captain, when he gets around to showing his pretty face.”
“I am not a captain.” This second man’s voice was a shock. His speech was startlingly more educated than the man holding Elizabeth captive. The owner of the other voice came in to view.
He was handsome, almost dashingly so, as he bowed deeply before her.
“George Wickham at your service, my lady,” he said, his tone smarmy.
“You say you are not a captain – I am not ‘my lady’,” she said. This man’s insolence offended more deeply than the ruffian who still held her by the arms. “You have mistaken me for someone else.”
“Not at all, Countess, we know precisely who you are,” said George Wickham. Just then a shriek sounded abovestairs, followed by a crash. It sounded like furniture being toppled.
“Sounds like your little dove’s got a mind to keep her rooms,” said the ruffian.
“She’d have come quietly if you and your friend hadn’t shown up here,” said George Wickham, turning to snarl at his compatriot.
“What have you done to Miss Darcy?” asked Elizabeth. The girl was only sixteen.
“Why, nothing at all,” said George Wickham. “I’d die before any harm comes to Georgiana. After all, we’re to be married soon.”
“We are not to be married,” came a stern female voice. The voice was strong and clear and deeply vexed. “I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth, George Wickham.”
A second rough looking character descended the main stairs just then, dragging along a young woman in his wake.
She was perfectly lovely, and visibly shaking. Whether the shaking came from fear or rage was difficult to discern. The young woman met Elizabeth’s eyes.
“You must be Elizabeth,” she said, giving her a sad smile.
“I am,” said Elizabeth.
“And that’s all we need to know,” said the ruffian who held Elizabeth. “Time to go, gents.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” said Georgiana.
“You already said that, chit,” said the third man. “So shut it already.”
“Georgiana, if you’d please just listen,” said Wickham.
“Stow it, you lot,” said the man behind Elizabeth. “This one managed to kick up a noise while the door was open. Best we get moving now, in case anybody else comes along.”
George Wickham opened the front door slowly, glancing up and down the street.
“Now’s good for it,” he said. “They’re all sitting down to supper soon. Not much traffic.”
“Well, la di da, Captain,” said the man who held her. “Ain’t you just a Mayfair toff? Now listen, yer ladyship,” he said in her ear. His voice took on an edge, making Elizabeth tremble. “Yer comin’ with us just now, and I don’t want no fuss about it. The Captain here’s got some business to mind, and you fine ladies are just along for the ride. No need to fear, not even a little.”
The man tightened his grip and yanked her back suddenly; Elizabeth cried out at the pain. “So best you mind us and come along quiet-like.”
Wickham glared at the man behind Elizabeth. “I am not a Captain.”
“No,” said Georgiana. “You’re a fool, and a liar, and I would I’d never laid eyes on you.”
“Come, darling,” he replied. “We’ll discuss it in the carriage.”