Pride and Pursuit: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, page 5
She might be pleasant to look upon, with more than the usual allotment of sheer spunk, but she would slow him down most dreadfully.
The second realisation was that Elizabeth was now in danger just as much as he was. Wickham had seen the two of them together and would make the assumption that they were a pair. Indeed, being seen together at an inn far from town would lead the most generous observer to believe them engaged to be married; Wickham would not be so generous. The scoundrel would gladly use Elizabeth as a tool to wreak his revenge and would likely cause her great harm simply as another way to bring Will pain.
He could not send her home. If Wickham knew where she lived, she would not be safe. Will’s duty as a gentleman was to protect her.
Although, he now acknowledged, she had been quite efficient at protecting herself. The hatpin still stuck in his lapel reminded him of that. And she had been the one to save him back at the inn when she brought that heavy tray down on Wickham’s head. Will had seen the glint of the knife in his nemesis’ hand, and knew it would not be satisfied until it ran red with his blood.
“I neglected to thank you.” He turned to his unwanted companion and offered his gratitude. “You saved me from serious harm. I cannot repay that.”
“Returning my father’s possessions unharmed will be a good gesture.” Her gaze was sharp, but there was the hint of a smile on her lips.
“The horses and carriage, yes, and his daughter as well. I am sorry, Elizabeth. I never intended to embroil another in my troubles. This burden ought to have been mine alone. All I wished to do was flee until I could summon help.”
She cocked her head and faced him. “I see that now. I was uncertain, for a while, whether your story was true, or whether it was only a tale told to elicit my sympathy. But there was no mistaking the blade in his hand, or the hatred in his voice.”
She stared at him for a moment longer before asking, “Why does he hate you so? What did you do to him?”
Will let out a snort. “What did I do? As if I were the instigator of this! No, Madam, it is not what I did, but what he wished I would do, but did not. He is the villain in this story, not I.”
Her gaze did not waver. “Whether you intended this or not, I have been brought into your dispute. Do I not deserve to know, at least, why we are being pursued by this person?” She straightened her back. “And who is Georgiana?”
Will clamped his jaw and stared at the road, concentrating all his attention on the horses as they cantered along.
“Will…” Her tone brooked no refusal.
He sighed. This was a private matter, a history which would reflect well on nobody, with the exception of himself. His family’s name was at stake.
“Will?”
What was it about her eyes, so expressive, that pierced through his armour? He hardly knew the girl, but the touch of her hand on his arm and the glance from under her thick lashes were comfortable and familiar.
She had, after all, accepted her fate with surprisingly good grace. After her initial frenzied attack on his person when she first realised her predicament, after her attempt to walk down that abandoned country lane, she had been the model of calmness. Will might have expected endless weeping, or harpy-like screeching, or fits of nerves, not this resolute determination to do what she must until she could return home. She had castigated him for his crimes, but had not dissolved into the useless puddle so many fine ladies of his acquaintance would certainly have done.
And then, when Wickham had come at him with that knife, she had saved him. She had, at that point, the very real opportunity to be free of him completely, simply by letting Wickham act. The room was paid for, and she had money for the coach the next day. She could have been home within hours. But instead, she acted to save him, thereby throwing her lot in with his.
This deserved more than stony silence, and he chastised himself for his poor manners.
“Very well,” he spoke over the rattle of the carriage. “I owe you something, after all. But please, I must rely upon your absolute discretion, for it involves somebody very dear to me.”
A shadow crossed Elizabeth’s face, but she answered simply. “I give you my word as a lady.”
“It involves my sister. Georgiana is my sister.”
At these words, her smile grew easy. Encouraged by her compassionate expression, Will allowed himself to speak.
“She is more than ten years my junior, only fifteen years old.” He paused.
“I have a sister of that age as well,” Elizabeth supplied. “She is half woman, half child, with all the worst parts of each.”
Will blinked. Why had he not imagined that she might have younger sisters as well? “Georgiana is a quiet soul. I have been called aloof and withdrawn, but she is far more timid than I. Our mother died when she was young, and our father followed her five years ago. I have been both parent and brother to her since that dreadful day, and I feel most ill-equipped for the role.”
“It is a difficult position, I am certain. But how does it relate to Mr Wickham’s anger towards you?”
“Allow me to start again. There is more you must know. When I was very young, my father engaged a most capable man as the steward of our estate, this man having a son of around my own age. My father was named godfather to the boy and doted upon him, for he was handsome and lively, where I was quiet.”
“You are still quiet,” he thought he heard Elizabeth murmur to herself, “but also handsome.”
Pretending he had not heard her, he went on. “This boy, George Wickham by name, grew up to be most unlike his father. He was wild and dissolute, much given to wagering and running up debts. His dealings with the female sex were also less than respectable. I hope I need not say more.” His face grew warm as he spoke these words and dared not look at Elizabeth.
“I understand you perfectly. He is handsome, and I can see how a lady might fall for his charms.”
“Such that they are. Let me recount to you some of our sad history.”
Elizabeth sat quietly beside him on the box as Will told the tale of Wickham’s refusal of the living he had been offered, of his requests to study the law instead, of how he spent a huge gift of money within a year, and how he then returned to plead for the living he had rejected previously.
“He had found the law an unprofitable study, he told me, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained. It was rightfully his, he insisted, as my father had intended. You cannot blame me for refusing him, after he had quit every claim to it three years before.”
“No indeed. You did nothing wrong.” This was shocking. “Such a man ought not to be in such a role. Was he angry?”
Will’s face hardened. “Most vehemently. From what I heard tell, he was no less violent in his abuse of me to others as he was to my face. He blamed me entirely for his failings and believed that I owed him some great sum in recompense.”
“A fortune in exchange for the legacy he refused? I can hardly account for it!”
They were approaching a crossroads marker, which looked familiar, and Will slowed the horses for a moment to examine it. These names he knew, and despite the setting sun, the air brightened around him. He knew these roads, knew where he must go, and guided the horses onto the new road, heading westward. There was some hope for an easy night, for this evening at least.
He had four miles to travel before they must turn again, enough time to finish his story.
Elizabeth had remained quiet whilst he concentrated on his new destination, but now encouraged him to continue his tale, which he did.
“This is where my dear sister enters the story. I would wish to forget this dreadful circumstance, but I fear I will suffer its consequences for the rest of my days.
“Georgiana was unhappy at school, and I thought it would suit her quiet nature to engage a companion for her. At the beginning of the summer, they went to Ramsgate, where I took a house for them to enjoy the society and the sea air. Unbeknownst to me, Wickham was an associate of this companion, and he too made his way to Ramsgate with the sole purpose of endearing himself to my sister and convincing her into an elopement.”
The lady beside him gasped. “At fifteen! How shocking. I understand why you would not wish this spoken of. That is far too young to really know her heart and to consider matters sensibly. And yet I recall being fifteen, when one is entirely subject to one’s sensibilities, much like poor Juliet and her Romeo. My sister Lydia, I suspect, would act no differently.”
These words of understanding were a balm to his sore heart, and speaking further grew easier with each word.
“My sister’s heart is tender, and she recollected George fondly from her childhood, and his task, I fear, was an easy one. She soon felt herself to be in love with him. Luck, and luck alone, was with me, for I joined them unexpectedly just four days ago, immediately before the intended elopement, and Georgiana confessed the entire plan to me.
“You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. I informed Mr Wickham at once that I could not support this plan, that I refused to give my consent for the marriage, and that he would by no means achieve his aim, which was undoubtedly my sister’s fortune. Yes, this is the thirty thousand pounds that Wickham believes I owe him, and which he attempted to rob me of at the same time as destroying my sister’s happiness forever.”
“How very sad! But could he have been sincere?” Elizabeth asked. “Is it possible that he does, indeed, care for her?”
“Not he. I wish it were so, but he admitted it all when I confronted him. His aim was never love. It was vengeance. He wanted to harm me by harming my sister and winning her fortune, and I stopped him. And now he wishes to see me dead.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were wide with concern. “You poor man! But what happened? Where is your sister now?”
“Georgiana was horrified by the truth and was inconsolable. She needed a mother’s love, and the best I could manage was our aunt in London. I took her there, and left her in that good lady’s embrace, with a promise to seek a companion of far better character. After seeing to her comfort, I began my journey northward to my estate, and, well, you know what happened then. Wickham learned where I was, and being unable to importune my sister any longer, came after me.”
Elizabeth’s hand moved from his arm to cover his own as it held the reins. Her touch was light and comforting. “I am truly sorry. I am sorry for your sister, sorry for your trouble, and sorry that I doubted you.”
“And I,” Will met her eyes, “am sorry that you are now part of this. But I have been thinking and now have a plan. My uncle has a hunting lodge in the north of Wales. I do not believe Wickham knows exactly where it is. We will be safe there until I can summon aid to deal with him.”
“North Wales! But that is hundreds of miles distant! It will take days, no, a week or more, to arrive.”
Will shook his head. “Longer, I fear. We cannot take a direct path. I am still concerned lest he somehow track our route. But he will expect me to travel northward to Pemberley. Instead, we shall turn south and make our way up through the valleys. It may take some time, but I would not have you come to harm.”
“Nor I you.” She looked directly at him and smiled.
CHAPTER 5
Missing
Jane Bennet stumbled out of the hired cart, her head a whirl, her eyes barely taking in the familiar sight of her own home. She felt, rather than heard, her aunt follow her off the hired cart and onto the sweep. A glance backwards revealed the older woman’s dried tears and pale face, and Jane feared she looked little better. How dreadful this day had been, and how painfully long the journey home. It had been hours since they finally gave up hope and left the inn, and it was now almost evening, several hours after their expected arrival.
“Jane? Maddy? Why are you so late? Where is the carriage? Where is Elizabeth?” Jane’s father strode towards them from the main doors to Longbourn, his wife and younger daughters hovering closer to the house. “What has happened?”
“Oh, Papa!” Jane’s resolve faltered and she could hold back her emotions no longer. She dissolved into a puddle of tears, bringing her mother to her side at once.
Next to her, she heard her aunt Gardiner choke back her own tears as she approached Jane’s father. “Thomas, I do not know what to say. It was... I cannot… I do not…” She looked around, eyes wide and desperate. “My children? I must see my children.”
“In the back garden with three servants. They are well. What has happened?” Jane’s mother caught her sister-in-law in a fierce embrace. Then she paused and looked around, her frown becoming more pronounced. “Where is Elizabeth?”
Papa sent off the cart driver with an impatient wave. “Is Elizabeth still in London? Is she ill? You look about ready to swoon.” He walked back to the house as he spoke, the travellers lagging behind him, until they were all gathered in the family’s back parlour. Jane was too agitated to sit, and the others, likewise, remained standing. “Now enough obfuscating. I must know what has happened. Where is Elizabeth? The carriage? Tell me your news. I fear it will not grow easier for the delay.”
“Papa, they are gone!” Jane burst out through her tears. A wave of despair and guilt flooded her. “We went inside the coaching inn for tea whilst the horses rested, and when we returned…” She could not say the words.
“Lizzy was too tired to join us and said she would sleep in the carriage.” Her aunt Gardiner took up the tale with a choked voice. “The servants were there to watch it, and she insisted she would come to no harm and simply needed to rest. After an hour, when we had refreshed ourselves, they came to find us. The horses were rested and harnessed and the carriage ready to complete the journey, but as we exited the building, we saw the carriage drive off at a tremendous pace. Our driver was with us, and Colin and Peggy were standing just a few feet away, but some stranger leapt onto the box under everybody’s noses, and made off with it.”
“And with Lizzy inside!” Jane wailed.
Jane’s father stood unblinking at her side, as if he were trying to understand the words. Her mother collapsed onto the closest chair, eyes fluttering.
“Mama!” one of Jane’s sisters called out. Was it Kitty? At this moment, she hardly knew. “Mama!”
“Bring her salts, Mary,” their father commanded. “Kitty, see to her comfort. Lydia… help your sisters. Now,” he said, turning back to his oldest daughter, “tell me again exactly what happened. And where are the servants?” His voice cracked.
Then, in an instant, his demeanour changed from despair to fury. Jane had never seen such anger on his face, or such pain. Her father was, by habit, laconic and detached, so unlike this fierce man who stood in the middle of the room.
Whilst her mother recovered her senses under Kitty’s less-than-gentle ministrations, Jane fought through her misery to relate the events to her father, although she had little more to add. “We left Colin and Peggy at the inn to start a search, although we knew not where to begin looking. We sent out express riders to the next toll house in all directions, and the innkeeper assured us he would do everything in his power to find them. But if the driver left the main roads, they could be anywhere.”
By now, Papa’s face was almost as white as his wife’s, and he reached out for a chair to steady himself.
“Lizzy is a clever girl,” he managed at last with a swallow. “She will find a way. If anybody can, it’s our Lizzy.”
He fell into his chair now, and a tense silence settled over the room. Anxious glances replaced frantic words, and Jane had never felt so helpless in her life. Her aunt pulled her into a fierce embrace and guided her to a seat on the long yellow sofa.
The silence was broken by a tap at the door, where Mrs Hill, the housekeeper, cleared her throat. “Sir, your guest… I have offered him more tea, but…”
As quickly as Mr Bennet had fallen onto the chair, he now leapt up to his feet. “Botheration! I had completely forgotten. What a fool I am. Let me make my apologies and see him off.”
“No need for either, sir,” came a new voice from behind Mrs Hill. It was smooth and melodic, with a hint of the North, a gentle tenor. “I was concerned when the ladies arrived so late and without the carriage, and I confess to hearing it all. I am most pained, and will offer whatever assistance I can.”
A young man slid into the room, more handsome than plain, and with a face that would, under most other circumstances, exude good humour. Now, however, his regard was serious. Jane could not take her eyes off him.
“Mr Bingley,” Jane’s father sighed. “Your welcome visit must, I am afraid, be interrupted. But please, although these are not the best circumstances, allow me to present to you my daughter Jane and her aunt, Mrs Gardiner, the mother of the scamps tearing up my flower beds.
“Mr Bingley,” he announced to Jane and her aunt, “is to be our neighbour, having just now taken possession of Netherfield Park. We have only this afternoon been made known to each other, and I invited him to take tea with us.”
There was no expression of joy or delight in the formal introductions that followed. Such sentiments would come at a later time. But the new neighbour made a handsome bow and offered pretty words. He addressed Jane’s aunt with suitable salutations and then turned to Jane herself. His glance met hers and he stopped for a moment to take in a deep breath. His eyes, warm honey brown, lingered upon her. “Miss Bennet.” He breathed the name like a prayer. Then, almost too quietly for anybody to hear, he breathed the name “Jane,” the sound scarcely reaching her ears. She felt her face grow warm.
