“Who would know where to ask?” Darcy peered at the map as if it would magically display the exact location where Wickham lay in wait. If he were even in the country. He might very well have gone on to Pemberley or the house in London to wait there.

  “I shall put Mrs Lloyd on it. She knows the area and the people. She speaks the language. Her curiosity, phrased in Welsh, will be far better received than my demands in English.”

  This discussion was now halted by the sound of other voices, and in a moment Mr Bennet and Bingley entered the room, followed a few minutes later by Jane and Elizabeth.

  Darcy’s eyes were drawn at once to the latter. Although he had slept much of the night beside her on her bed, he could not get enough of her. He drank in the sight of her bright eyes and soft pink cheeks, her lips the colour of roses, calling for his kiss. He fought the urge to walk up to her and sweep her into an embrace, to feel her in his arms again.

  Something of his desires must have betrayed itself, for she coloured a touch when she looked at him, and her lips parted. He was all but undone.

  “Lizzy, you look well this morning. Are you rested?” Mr Bennet’s voice interrupted his improper thoughts.

  “Good morning, Papa. I slept exceedingly well.” Her eyes flickered in Darcy’s direction and he sent her a secret grin.

  “Does she not look fine? What a wonder Mrs Lloyd was, to find this frock for her so soon.” Jane gestured to Elizabeth’s gown, a light blue garment that Georgiana would probably describe in some fanciful terms. To Darcy’s eyes, it was a perfectly ordinary day frock, quite unremarkable… until he recalled that she, like himself, had arrived here with nothing but the clothing they wore.

  Elizabeth spun around in a slow circle. The garment, perhaps, did not fit as well as something from her own wardrobe would undoubtedly do, but it was more than serviceable. “Mrs Lloyd sent a note to the market town a few miles away when we arrived yesterday, and this was delivered, with two others, in reply. I believe it belongs to the daughter of a friend of hers, who has lent it to me. I did like that old gown I wore last night, but this is much more comfortable, and I feel less like one of those portraits upon the wall.” Her eyes sparkled and she made another revolution to show off the dress.

  Now that Darcy was able to tear his eyes from her lovely face, he noticed that her hair, too, was dressed in the modern style. He had rather liked it before, half-pulled from its pins and streaming down her back, but she looked more than fine with it up in a pile upon her head. Did Jane do it, or was one of the maids adept with ladies’ hair?

  Her eyes caught his again and she let them linger for a moment as she flushed a pale pink once more.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” He could not hide his smile. “Please, allow me.” He stepped aside to pull out the chair next to him and noticed that Bingley did likewise for Jane. “What would you like? Command me, and it shall be yours.”

  Her laugh was the sound of angels’ bells. “I shall command an army later, but for now, a cup of tea will suit, thank you.”

  He brought her the tea, prepared as she requested, and a piece of bara brith on a plate as well. Then, with yet another cup of coffee, he sat back to observe the room, ensuring from time to time that she had everything she wished.

  Mr Bennet’s expression was unreadable. He could not have failed to notice Darcy’s attentions to Elizabeth, and his glance darted their way often, but the man’s views on the matter were veiled. Was he pleased to see his future son-in-law dance attendance upon his daughter? Was he angry that this was necessary? Anxious that the marriage occur forthwith? Neither his eyes nor words conveyed his thoughts.

  Bingley was another story, for his eyes spoke volumes. Darcy had not had the opportunity for private conversation with his friend since his arrival here the previous day, and found the currents circulating between Bingley, Richard, and Jane unsettling. He was the first to confess his shortcomings when it came to understanding unspoken sentiments and subtle intonations, but even he could see that Bingley was rather taken with the eldest Miss Bennet and was not at all happy with Richard’s perceived competition.

  This was not a surprise. Darcy could hardly recall a dinner, dance, or other social engagement where his friend had not discovered the most beautiful girl in the room, and then promptly fallen in love with her. And Jane Bennet was most definitely beautiful. She was tall and slender, with translucent skin and a classical symmetry to her lovely features that would put Aphrodite to shame. But her beauty, much though Darcy might admire it, did not touch his heart. Likewise, her manner was everything cool and elegant, everything that would see her lauded in the finest company. She smiled sweetly and said everything proper, but he detected no passion behind the look and the words, no force of personality to grab at the soul.

  Let others moon before such classical perfection. For him, he preferred a sparkle, a touch of impertinence, that would challenge him and keep his interest. Alabaster ladies with their perfect posture and immaculate manners paled now before the image of an outspoken firebrand who climbed trees and aimed true with a bow and arrow. His eyes drifted to Elizabeth, who sipped at her tea beside him, and his heart overflowed. Yes. It was true. He loved her.

  He brought his attention back to his friend. Was Bingley about to fall in love with Jane Bennet? Or, to be cynical, was Bingley about to form an infatuation with Jane Bennet, to be forgotten the moment the next pretty face appeared? Miss Bennet did seem a charming young woman, if cool, and her father was a landed gentleman. For Bingley, one generation removed from trade and not yet in possession of an estate, it would not be a bad match. Although, from what he believed, the Bennet daughters had little wealth and would need to marry well once their cousin inherited Longbourn.

  He must watch Jane Bennet, in case her smiles at Bingley were merely aimed to fix him, to secure her own fortune, without any real affection on her part.

  And then there was Richard. Whatever was his cousin playing at? For every simpering smile Bingley cast Jane’s way, Richard gave a mighty grin. If Bingley offered to bring her a cup of tea, Richard offered the entire pot. And every time Richard offered a kind word of compliment to Jane, Bingley turned red and fumed.

  This was quite unlike his cousin. Richard was good humoured and as garrulous as Will was taciturn, but never had Darcy seen him goad anybody thus before. Could his cousin really have his eye turned by Jane’s beauty? It hardly seemed likely. Still, the man was expected to marry one day, and although Jane did not have the fortune Richard needed, she would be a pleasant wife, and one who would look well on his arm, as unfair as it would be to the lady.

  These next few days might prove quite interesting. Should he survive them.

  The weather was fair, and Jane expressed an interest in exploring the gardens. Elizabeth was less eager to be outside again, having spent a great deal too much time in the open air over the last week. And, if she were honest with herself, the spectre of George Wickham, lying in wait behind every rock and tree, was more than sufficient incentive to keep her safe within the building’s walls. Mr Bingley, however, rushed to offer Jane his company, and for once, the colonel did not insert himself into their arrangements. Instead, he offered a gentle warning.

  “I would beg you, Bingley and Miss Bennet, to remain within the formal gardens and in full view of the house. I shall set a couple of servants at the gates as well, to ensure your safety, and have Hawarden keep an eye open.”

  Mr Bingley swallowed. “Do you believe us in danger? Could Mr Wickham be this close?”

  The colonel raised one shoulder. Although the man was dressed in the familiar clothing of a country gentleman, Elizabeth could all but see the flash of an officer’s epaulette in the efficiency of this gesture. “I do not believe there to be any particular peril in it, but I would prefer to be cautious.”

  Jane thanked him in a weak voice and excused herself to dress for the outdoors, offering to meet Mr Bingley at the doors to the gardens in fifteen minutes. Elizabeth’s father seemed pleased enough with the plans.

  “If they are within view of the house and of two stout manservants, I cannot believe they need a chaperone. Very well, Jane, enjoy the flowers.”

  Elizabeth sipped the last of her tea and looked about the room. She had not seen very much of the house, and asked if there was a parlour where she might sit and read, or perhaps write to her mother and her friend Charlotte.

  “If you will permit me, Elizabeth, I would be pleased to show you the house, if my cousin does not object.” Will was on his feet, one arm out in invitation.

  She could not hide her smile. Why, after having been abducted by the man and then forced to spend every minute with him for nigh on a week, was she so eager for his company? She ought to hate him, not love him. But love him, her heart insisted, she did. And now, relieved for a time from the pressures of rough travel, she looked forward to conversing on matters simple and ordinary, like the furnishings of a hunting lodge.

  She rose and took the elbow he offered, and allowed him to lead her from the breakfast room.

  Will showed her the great hall and explained its history, then led her to the back parlour with its vista onto the gardens where Jane and Mr Bingley would take their walk, and then proceeded to the formal dining rooms.

  “The family usually dine in the breakfast room, but when my uncle hosts a hunting party and there are more than a few guests, they use this space.” It was a tall chamber, in the newer part of the house, with large windows hidden behind heavy draperies, and a massive table down the length of it that might easily seat thirty with comfort.

  From here, he led her to the kitchens, “should you desire to ask Cook for something,” and down a long hallway leading towards the courtyard where they had entered yesterday. “If you wish to engage in some sport, there are croquet sets in here, and some badminton racquets.” He showed her a door, opening it wide to display the supplies within. “We also have some targets and bows and arrows in the weapons room. The ladies, at times, enjoy demonstrating their prowess during house parties. None has ever matched you in skill.” He led her into a further room off the long hall and pointed to another door leading from it. “The firearms are in there, but it is kept locked.”

  Lizzy’s eyes returned to the archery equipment, and she let her fingers trace the graceful curve of the small bow that hung on a hook on the wall. Then she eyed the painted target that leaned against a wall beside a sturdy easel. Yes, some archery might be a fine diversion should they need to stay here for a while.

  She voiced her approval of all she had seen, and at last, followed Will to the room she had asked about at first, the library.

  This was not a large space, the house being a country retreat for hunting and other pastoral pursuits, but the collection of books on the shelves was more than she had expected. The shelves lined the walls, rather than protruding from them, leaving the centre of the room open. A large desk sat in the pool of light from the window, and two armchairs crowded the fireplace.

  “There is paper and ink in the drawers,” Will explained. “Shall I leave you, or…”

  He stood to the side of the desk, tall and handsome and only somewhat awkward, hands palm-up in supplication. He did not look like a man who wished to leave, and she did not wish him to do so. Could he learn to love her? He certainly seemed to like her. It was enough to spark hope in her heart.

  “I shall be quiet as I write, but that does not mean I am unhappy for company if you can abide my silence. There seems to be plenty worth reading in here.”

  “My uncle enjoys his books.” Will walked to a shelf and pulled out a volume. “I have started this one several times and never finished it. Perhaps I can proceed to the next chapter whilst you write.” His warm smile bathed her with a sense of comfort, and she nodded with satisfaction.

  How pleasant it was to be in company with him, even whilst not speaking. The silence was that of understanding, a shared refuge from the world, full of peace. Her smile lit softly upon her face as she retrieved the instruments she needed from the desk drawer, fixed her pen, and began her missive to her dear friend back at Longbourn.

  CHAPTER 18

  Council of War

  When they returned to the small sitting room sometime later, Elizabeth’s father was sitting beside Colonel Fitzwilliam and the major, staring at the map that had earlier been in the breakfast room.

  “Good, you are back,” the colonel uttered by way of a greeting. “I have spoken to Mrs Lloyd, and she has news.” He pointed to an area a small distance from the squares that Elizabeth took to be the village. “A stranger has been lurking about, his description matching George Wickham. We fully believe him to be in the vicinity.”

  Ice shot up Elizabeth’s spine. It had been easy to put the danger out of her mind. Here, in this comfortable and protected house, with soft beds and good food, the worry of the last week had melted like ice in the summer sun. The presence of Jane and her father, too, lent that sense of security and familiarity that made the looming spectre of Wickham’s plans feel like something from a bad novel.

  How easy it would be to imagine the past several days a dream, to return to the mundane concerns of whether to wear her green frock or the blue, or if the ground was too soft to walk in her new boots. How enticing to believe herself quite safe here within these walls, with no perils awaiting on the lanes toward the village or the roads into town.

  But reality was elsewise. Now every intimation of the real danger they faced rushed in, threatening to sweep her off her feet and drown her. She caught her foot on the edge of the carpet and stumbled, only to be caught by Will’s strong hands. He kept his hand around her waist now, pulling her close to him, a gesture of intimacy that could not be lost on the others in the room.

  “Here?” he asked. “Where?” His voice was urgent.

  The colonel leaned back on the sofa, eyes still fixed on the map before him.

  “That, we do not know. He is not in the village, although he has been there asking questions. The villagers have been asked to say little, but who knows if they will obey or if a word might slip out inadvertently.” The colonel then looked at Elizabeth directly, his eye tracing the dress she wore. “Further, Mrs Lloyd’s request for some frocks is surely no secret. Such matters do not occur every day, and it would not take a genius to discern that there is a lady here who arrived without her wardrobe. He knows you are here. We have to assume that much. Now we must determine what to do.”

  Will’s hand dropped from Elizabeth’s waist, but fumbled for her fingers to keep the contact. He moved towards the sofa across the low table from the two seated men, pulling her with him. They sat down together, a small council of war convening to discuss strategy.

  “I insist upon keeping my daughters safe,” her father spoke up. “Is this house secure?”

  “It is,” came the reply, “but we cannot keep them locked up here as prisoners forever. It might be gilded, but it is still a cage. We need to find this rat and deal with him.”

  “My concern,” Will interjected, “is what he has planned. Can he really think he will emerge triumphant in this? Even should he succeed in finding and killing me, what then? Does he expect to leave the area in a blaze of glory, free to live his life? He must know that if I am harmed, his life will not be worth the dust on the bottom of his shoes. And knowing that, he is almost certainly desperate. Who knows what he might do?”

  “Angry men are not always wise, son.” Papa shook his head. Elizabeth startled at her father’s choice of words, but the conversation around her continued.

  The colonel sighed his agreement. “He has lost hold of sanity. His irrational need for revenge seems to have overwhelmed all other considerations. You must take the greatest of care. Hawarden has made some suggestions, which are excellent, and I have requested from the regiment at Oswestry whatever assistance they can offer us. If necessary, we can smuggle you out, disguised as one of the soldiers. But we must find Wickham. That is imperative.”

  “What do we do?” The words escaped before Elizabeth could stop them.

  “You, my dear, do nothing,” her father replied with a stern gaze. “You remain here and do not set foot out of these grounds. I may confine you to the house, if Colonel Fitzwilliam thinks it better.”

  “Keep close to the house, Miss Elizabeth,” the officer said in a softer voice. “I shall set guards all about the gardens. As for you, Will,” he continued, “you are also to stay low. No, none of that bluster. I know it will rankle to be chained up like an errant pup, but we need to draw Wickham out, and if you will not go to him, he must come here. And here is where we will catch him.”

  “And so, I just wait for the viper to come to the nest?” Will was still holding Elizabeth’s hand, and she felt his grip tighten.

  “No. We will smoke him out. As well as the soldiers I hope will be coming, I have requested, through Mrs Lloyd, for a small regiment of local men to be formed. She knows those whose sentiments towards our family are friendly, and who will help us with open hearts. They will come from the village, as well as the market town, and will meet here this evening to set a plan to hunt for our quarry.

  “If Wickham is near,” he articulated, eyes steely, “we will find him. And soon.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Wickham’s approach meant danger for Will, and at once, the threat of losing him, even before she had him, dawned upon her. Her fingers gripped Will’s as he held her hand, and he answered likewise.

  “Lizzy,” her father’s voice penetrated the black spectre about her. “I had hoped for a moment alone with you, but it seems action must proceed more quickly than I had anticipated. You surely understand that you and Mr Darcy must marry.” His mild eyes remained fixed upon her until she nodded. “I know he might not have been your choice, but I imagine he is a good enough sort of man.”

  Beside her, Will sputtered and then clamped his teeth together with an audible snap.

 

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