The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (26 page)

“I would prefer if you stayed here on the chance that Miss Bennet is returned or in case you are contacted again. Perhaps a ransom demand will be forthcoming.”

Again, Mr. Gardiner nodded in acquiescence.

Darcy doubted that money was Wickham’s motive, for he knew it was pure revenge that drove the man. His note made his intentions abundantly clear.

“To the victor belong the spoils, Darcy. I shall savour every moment of my time with Miss Bennet.”

********

Elizabeth’s hands held onto the pommel for dear life as their horse raced through the fallow terrain. She tried to edge away from the arm around her waist, but it held her firmly.

“Hold still, or would you rather be tied across the horse’s flank? I can easily arrange it,” growled Wickham against her ear. He then roughly pulled her more tightly against his chest. Elizabeth immediately straightened as she felt her back make contact with the pistol that was tucked in Wickham’s waistband.

As they distanced themselves from town, the landscape changed, and she tried to discern her surroundings. Her first thought was that they were headed for the main house at Pemberley, as she remembered the route their carriage had travelled just yesterday afternoon. But suddenly they were not following a path, but had veered away, submerging them deep into a heavily wooded area.

They rode on steadily for some time, but as the woods grew thicker, Wickham was forced to slow their pace and Elizabeth was able to loosen her hold upon the pommel. Her hand instinctively went to the bruise on her cheek, a result of her struggle to escape from Mr. Wickham as he had forced her from her room at the Lambton Inn.

The towering trees diffused the sun’s rays, and they were cast in a shadowy murkiness. Low hanging branches were scraping against them as they made their way through the brush. As one branch caught the fabric of Elizabeth’s bonnet, it was easily ripped from her head, having no ribbons to secure it. Elizabeth’s worry increased. She wondered just where he was taking her. And more frighteningly, she wondered what was he going to do to her once they arrived at their destination?

Wickham’s thoughts were chillingly similar as he contemplated his next actions. His original plan had at first been to simply apply his usual charm and seduce her. Once he had taken her virtue, he would relish the great pleasure of flaunting it in Darcy’s face, just as he had done with Alyssa Marston. But Miss Bennet had made it quite clear from the onset of their acquaintance that she would not be an easy or willing conquest.

His only alternative was to force his attentions upon her. It would not be as gratifying, but in the end it would serve the same purpose. As he had watched her movements over the past two days, waiting for his chance, he observed Darcy’s repeated attentions upon her, and he knew that
this
act of revenge was going to be the sweetest one of them all; any fool could see that Darcy was in love. But it would not be enough to just compromise her; no, he wanted to make sure Darcy knew of his intentions. He wanted him to suffer every agonizing moment as he realized that he would never find her in time to save her innocence.

As their horse gingerly made its way through the rough landscape, the unanswered questions in Elizabeth’s head were about to be revealed to her. Through the dense thicket of the woods, her eyes focused on a cabin that slowly came into full view.

Wickham dismounted. He reached up and pulled Elizabeth down, but her legs had grown numb from their long journey, and she immediately collapsed to the ground.

Elizabeth looked up into the face of her captor. If one did not know better, they might easily mistake the look on his face for a smile, but Elizabeth recognized the cruel curve of his lips for what it was: a sneer. For even though should could not swear to it, she was almost certain she had seen that very same expression staring down at her once before… the night of her carriage accident.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

Colonel Fitzwilliam bent down, and his fingers lightly traced over the imprint in the dirt. “The deep divot in the middle of this shoe has the same marking as the one I have been tracking. It’s from Wickham’s horse, and from all appearances, it is newly made.”

“So, he is headed for the north woods then, somewhere on Pemberley’s property,” responded Darcy.

“Yes and these tracks are deeper than his previous ones, suggesting a greater weight. Obviously he and Miss Bennet are riding on the same mount.”

Darcy could not help but recall the morning in Hertfordshire that he had discovered Elizabeth’s scars and the intimacy of the kisses he had bestowed upon them. He remembered how they had ridden back to Longbourn together with his arm wrapped around her and her body pressed against his as he inhaled the scent of jasmine in her hair.

He should have told her then of his feelings, before she had learned of her father’s entreaty. For he was now certain he had loved her even then.

Just the image of Wickham’s hands touching her was enough to cause him to rage. He knew of Wickham’s nature; he knew the depraved things the man was capable of. He must find them quickly, before . . . before . . .

Darcy forced himself to leave that thought unfinished.

They remounted and continued on. As the underbrush grew thicker, the dense woods no longer provided any clues as to Wickham’s direction. When they had travelled several miles with no tracks to lead the way, Darcy feared their efforts would be in vain. He watched as Richard again dismounted and examined the over grown earth beneath his fingers.

Undecided as to which direction they should now follow, Darcy looked around him in desperation. He had to find her. As a feeling of dread was about to consume him, he looked up . . . and then he saw it. Far off in the distance a red object was waving in the wind as it clung to the bough of a tree. He spurred his horse into a trot and then into a gallop, ignoring the lacerations of the branches that licked at his sides. Richard quickly remounted as he followed Darcy’s trail. When they reached the branch, Darcy pulled the object down and examined it; Elizabeth’s bonnet.

Darcy looked around him, and as he got his bearings, he turned sharply to his cousin.

“I believe I know where he has taken her.”

********

Wickham dragged her to her feet, then led her towards the cabin door. Once inside, he crossed the main room, grasping Elizabeth’s arm, pulling her behind him. He led her to another door that opened to the only other room in the small cabin, a bedchamber, where he harshly pushed her down onto a stained and dirty mattress. Elizabeth quickly struggled to a sitting position.

“Why have you taken me? Is it money? Surely, you must know my family does not possess great wealth. But whatever they have, they will gladly give up for my safe return.”

“It is not money that interests me, at least not at the moment.”

“Then what is it; what do you want?” she asked, her voice laced with equal amounts of contempt and fear.

“I had hoped to spare you any unpleasantness, but you were quite adamant regarding your distaste of me,” he simpered as he reached down and touched her cheek just below the bruise he had inflicted. “I can still make this an enjoyable experience, should you decide to cooperate.”

Elizabeth’s breath grew shallow. There was no mistaking his meaning. “I believe it is a little late to try to charm me into submission, Mr. Wickham. As for my distaste, as you put it, it hardly begins to signify my repulsion of you,” she retorted as she batted his hand away.

Other than slightly amused, Wickham seemed unaffected by her response. Of course, he would have preferred to seduce her rather than take her unwillingly, but that was no longer an option.

However, his much deflated ego was in dire need of restoration, and he knew just the nourishment it required. Acknowledging his parched throat, he left her, closing the door behind him as he went in search of the bottle of whiskey he always kept there.

Now alone, Elizabeth looked around the small room. It was dim, despite the late afternoon sun. There was a small window, but it was boarded up with planks, letting only a smattering of daylight to seep through. She thought of shouting for help, but they were so deep into the woods, she knew there was little chance anyone would hear her.

There seemed nothing she could do except try to fend him off for as long as she could. If no help was forthcoming, she knew eventually he would have his way with her, but she was determined to fight him until the bitter end. In desperation, she pulled at the pieces of wood across the window. Perhaps she could use a plank as a weapon. But even applying all of her strength, her efforts were fruitless. She fought off the urge to cry, determined she would not show him any weakness.

Certainly her aunt and uncle were now aware that she was missing. Perhaps they had already gone for help. As Mr. Darcy had promised to call upon her today, was he now aware of her disappearance? Would he try to find her?

She stood there at the window and waited. When she heard the door open, she turned to see Wickham standing in the doorway, a half-consumed bottle of whiskey in his hand.

********

Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam dismounted and tied their horses to the nearest branch, keeping a discreet distance from the dilapidated cabin. They hoped to keep the element of surprise on their side. Through the trees, they could just make out the silhouette of the cabin that lay a few hundred yards from where they stood; in front, Wickham’s horse was tethered to the remnants of a fence.

“No matter what happens in there, Richard, you must promise me that your first responsibility will be to Miss Bennet’s safety,” said Darcy.

The colonel nodded his compliance.

“Let me hear you say it. Promise me.”

“Yes, I will do as you ask, Darcy, I promise.”

“Once we have secured her safety, go quickly to Pemberley and procure a carriage. Instruct one of my men to accompany Georgiana and Elizabeth back to Lambton,” said Darcy. “Have Mrs. Reynolds go with them also; I want everything to look as normal and proper as possible when she is returned to her aunt and uncle.”

“As his superior officer, I should be the one to stay and confront Wickham; not you, Darcy.”

“This is between Wickham and me. His acts of vengeance against those I care for have gone on long enough. I will deal with Wickham on my own.”

The colonel did not like the sound of this at all. Was he expected to just ignore any threat of danger his cousin might encounter? Could he rescue Miss Bennet and leave Darcy, not knowing the outcome of his fate? He was a soldier through and through, and it was his nature to stand and fight.

But certainly he could understand Darcy’s position. Would he not ask the same thing if it were Georgiana in that cabin alone with Wickham? Just that thought alone turned the blood in his veins cold as ice.

“But, Darcy, what if . . .”

“Just do this for me, Richard. As soon as you get the chance, take Miss Bennet back with you immediately.”

Darcy stared him down until Richard again reluctantly agreed. “Don’t do anything foolish, Darcy. Lieutenant Crowley and I will return to assist you as soon as possible.”

Then the two men were on the move by foot as they cautiously advanced their way towards the cabin.

********

Wickham took another swig of whiskey as he menacingly made his way across the small room. He held the bottle out to Elizabeth, but she shook her head in refusal.

“Have it your way, Miss Bennet,” he said as he raised the bottle to his lips and guzzled another long swig before placing it upon a nearby crate that served as a makeshift table.

As he did this, Elizabeth tried to flee, but Wickham quickly grabbed her. Violently restraining her efforts to escape his grasp, he tore her gown, exposing the smooth, alabaster curves beneath her bodice. But the sight of her bared skin was not what excited him; his only stimulus was the knowledge that this act of revenge would be Darcy’s undoing.

Wickham removed the pistol from his waistband and placed it alongside the whiskey bottle. He then forcibly drew her body against his as his foul breath brushed against her cheek.

Reaching down, he undid the buttons of his breeches as Elizabeth struggled in his grip. As he secured his hold upon her with one hand, his other hand crudely crept over her hips while his mouth attacked the length of her neck.

Furiously Elizabeth pushed against his chest with every ounce of her strength, but to no avail. Realizing that her efforts to thwart his assault were futile, in desperation she decided to try a different tack. Instead of pushing him away, her arms now embraced his shoulders. Gathering all of her courage she drew in a shaky breath. “Perhaps I will have that drink after all, Mr. Wickham.”

A licentious smile spread across Wickham’s face. He loosened his hold upon her as he reached for the bottle and handed it to Elizabeth. Her shaking hands brought it slowly to her lips as she tilted her head back slightly. She could see the repulsive grin on his face, and the sight of it sickened her while making her even more determined.

Her hand grasped the neck of the bottle as she quickly swung it as hard as she could, striking Wickham on the left side of his head. The look on his face was one of sheer shock as he immediately staggered backwards and fell to the ground. Elizabeth stared down at him for a long moment. She saw the blood on his face, and her breath came in short gasps at the sight of his motionless body lying on the floor. She dropped the bottle where she stood. She saw her chance, and she did not let it pass. She hurried towards the cabin door, and when she reached the outside, she inhaled deeply and blindly ran.

She fled past the small clearing in front of the cabin and headed towards the dense woods beyond, not daring to look back. But her flight was suddenly halted when a pair of arms suddenly reached out and grasped her. She fought against their entrapment as she struggled to break free. But then she heard her name soothingly whispered against her ear, and the voice was one she welcomed.

“Are you all right, Elizabeth?” Darcy anxiously asked.

Overwhelmed with relief at the sight of him, she merely nodded her head as her arms reached around him, and she buried herself deep into the safe harbour of his embrace.

Darcy held her close against his fast-beating heart. She was safe, safe in his arms where she belonged.

“It is Mr. Wickham,” she breathlessly murmured against his chest. “He is inside the cabin with a gun. I stuck him,” she sobbed. “I struck him with a bottle as hard as I could, and then I ran.”

Darcy could feel her body tremble. “Did he . . . did he harm you, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth looked up and saw the trepidation in his dark eyes, and she knew the question he had dared not ask. She shook her head as she looked deep into his concerned and probing eyes. “No, he did not,” she softly murmured.

Darcy cupped her cheek as their gazes held. He lightly brushed his thumb across the bruise she had suffered at Wickham’s hand. His eyes were then drawn to the patches of red upon her neck and then downwards to the tatters of her torn gown. His eyes briefly closed, and his body grew rigid. “Take her, Richard,” he commanded as he now turned his eyes towards the cabin. “Do as you promised.”

The arms that had just held her so caringly, now quickly released her. She was suddenly thrust towards Colonel Fitzwilliam as she witnessed the revulsion in Mr. Darcy’s eyes and heard the coldness in his voice.

When the colonel did not immediately comply, Darcy grew impatient. “It will soon be nightfall, Richard. Go now!” he again commanded.

“Come, Miss Bennet,” the colonel pleaded, but Elizabeth firmly held her ground. Obviously she was just as hesitant to leave Darcy there alone with Wickham as was he.

“When I fled the cabin, he was motionless on the floor, but I am sure he has recovered by now. He is not to be trusted. Please, Mr. Darcy. Please do not go in there,” she begged.

“Go with Colonel Fitzwilliam now, Elizabeth!” said Darcy, his voice stern and severe. “Do not make me say it again!”

Elizabeth inhaled a gasp. He had never spoken to her so harshly before, and his sudden wrath rendered her immobile. She stared up at him as tears filled her eyes. Why was he so upset with her? What had she done to deserve his anger?

“Please, Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said softly as he guided her away. “It is imperative that I get you back to your aunt and uncle as quickly as possible. Darcy will take care of Wickham.”

The colonel wished he felt as confident as he had sounded. He needed no convincing of Wickham’s cunning. He had dealt with the man more than two years before, when he had convinced the young and naïve Georgiana to elope with him. As far as he was concerned, the scoundrel had gotten off far too easily on that account. But what choice had there been? Neither he nor Darcy would ever have risked damaging Georgiana’s reputation.

And now if he did not act quickly, Elizabeth Bennet would be exposed to the same censure. Despite her continued pleas, he led her to the tree where the horses were tethered and helped her mount Lightning. Resignedly, he set them on their path away from the cabin.

Darcy waited impatiently until he was sure the colonel had taken Elizabeth far from any possible danger. He then walked towards the cabin, his pistol drawn. When he reached the door, he listened for movement within the cabin, but all was quiet.