Elizabeth hurled her whole weight at Caroline, upsetting both chair and captor. She knocked Caroline to the ground and landed on top of her legs. The pistol flew out of Caroline’s grasp and skidded under the night table.
The fall knocked the wind out of Elizabeth. She labored for breath, helpless as a turtle on its back. Her right hand, yet grasping the watch, had slid from her pocket, but her bonds still held fast. She could do little against Caroline but try to maintain the pin, and nothing to help Darcy. From her present position she could barely see her husband and Parrish.
“Caroline, kindly kill Mrs. Darcy, will you?” Parrish lunged at Darcy, trying to stab him in the gut. Darcy parried the strike. The sound of clashing metal filled the air.
Caroline fought to free herself from Elizabeth’s weight. She kicked and twisted, trying to move out from beneath the chair. She stilled, however, when she caught sight of the watch in Elizabeth’s hand.
The watch! Perhaps it truly did hold power. If so, she could use it somehow. But did she dare? She didn’t want to harm Caroline, only to prevent her from acting on Parrish’s orders.
Caroline resumed her struggle. She stretched her arm toward the night table, attempting to reach the pistol. Her fingers brushed the handle.
The chamber door flew open. Bingley rushed in — accompanied by Professor Randolph. Randolph carried a forked wooden rod.
“Bingley!” Darcy cried. “Help Elizabeth!”
Parrish fingered one of the knots in the medallion at his neck, his other hand still brandishing his weapon. “No — help your sister! Mrs. Darcy is attacking her!”
Bingley stood rooted to the floor, frozen with indecision, his gaze ricocheting from Darcy and Parrish to the women. Elizabeth didn’t understand his hesitation. How could he possibly believe Parrish’s claim? Could he not see that Elizabeth was bound to the chair?
Caroline managed a tentative grasp on the pistol, clawing it into her hand. Randolph hurried forward.
“Mrs. Darcy, the amulet — my watch — touch it to her!”
Why? What would it do? She longed to ask but the gag still silenced her.
Parrish kept his eyes on Darcy as the two yet faced off. “Bingley, now Randolph’s trying to use his hocus- pocus on Caroline.”
Bingley grabbed Randolph, preventing him from getting any closer to where the two women lay sprawled.
Randolph struggled against Bingley. “Mrs. Darcy! The amulet!”
“Caroline, shut him up!” Parrish snarled.
From her angle, Elizabeth could scarcely see Randolph, could not look him in the eye to judge his motives. What harm would the amulet inflict on Caroline? On herself, for using it? She clutched it in her palm. Did she dare trust the supernaturalist? Why had he returned to Netherfield? Wasn’t he in league with Parrish?
Caroline had the pistol firmly in her grasp now. She twisted to take aim at the professor.
There was no more time to think. If Elizabeth was going to act, it had to be now. She pressed the amulet against Caroline’s leg. And prayed she was doing the right thing.
Caroline’s grip on the pistol relaxed. She lowered it to the floor.
Randolph fought to extricate himself, but Bingley’s grasp was strong. “The amulet has reduced the ring’s hold on her,” the professor said to Elizabeth. “Ask her to free you.”
With a howl of anger, Parrish suddenly abandoned his duel with Darcy and lunged at Randolph. Restrained by Bingley, the professor was helpless to defend himself. Just as Parrish was about to sink a fatal thrust, Darcy leapt for his legs. Parrish fell forward, the dagger still in his hand.
He rolled to his back and stabbed at Darcy. Darcy caught his wrist. Their arms shook with the strength of two matched forces in opposition. The blade inched closer to Darcy, coming but a hairsbreadth away from him.
Elizabeth stopped breathing. Her neck ached from the strain of watching from the poor angle, but she could not tear her gaze away.
Darcy never flinched. With slowness that seemed to last an eternity, he forced Parrish’s hand back until it rested on the floor.
Elizabeth choked down a sob of relief.
Darcy disarmed Parrish, checked him for other hidden weapons, and — at Randolph’s direction — removed both his wedding ring and the medallion he wore around his neck. With Bingley’s help, he tied the knave’s wrists to the bedpost. Parrish said nothing the whole time.
The moment Parrish was secured, Darcy hastened to Elizabeth. He tugged at her bonds until she was free and pulled her into his arms. “Elizabeth,” he whispered fiercely, the single word at once an endearment, an apology, a promise. She understood it was all he
Her own heart was just as full. She tried to respond but discovered the gag had left her mouth too dry to speak. She settled for simply resting her head in the crook of his neck.
Randolph, meanwhile, seized Caroline’s pistol and extricated Mrs. Parrish from Elizabeth’s chair. Blinking, Caroline observed the scene groggily, like someone awakening from a long sleep. She glanced, expressionless, from Elizabeth to Darcy to Randolph. Her countenance turned icy when her gaze lit upon Parrish.
“Charles,” she said wearily as she caught sight of her brother, “I don’t feel at all well.”
Elizabeth at last found her voice. “Professor Randolph, will Mrs. Parrish recover from her ordeal?”
“In good time,” Randolph said. “But first, there is something else I must do.”
“Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving any one; and all that I can hope in this case, is that she is deceived herself.”
Randolph still held the oaken rod he’d carried into the chamber; Elizabeth now recognized it from the London museum exhibit. Though she and Darcy had viewed the display of mysterious articles only a few weeks earlier, that day now seemed half a lifetime ago.
Taking Caroline’s left hand, the supernaturalist touched the rod to her ring and uttered a command. The gem glowed momentarily, then dulled. “There,” he said. “The bond is broken.” He slid the ring from her finger and asked Darcy for Parrish’s companion ring. Darcy hesitated, regarding him warily, but surrendered it.
Randolph withdrew two small silver candles from his pockets. As the assembly watched in disbelieving silence, he placed them before the fire and lit them.
He extracted a small leather pouch from one of his breast pockets, and a thin silver stylus from the other. The stylus he used to lift the rings off the candles and place them into the pouch. He then extinguished the candles with his thumb and index finger. “These rings will never again be used for ill purposes.”
“Where did they come from?” Elizabeth asked.
“Most recently, a pawnbroker’s shop in New Orleans.” Randolph tucked the pouch into his breast pocket. “You’d be surprised at the objects that find their way into such establishments. I spotted this pair and, based on appearance and the inscription, suspected they were a legendary set known as the Halbert Rings — the gift of a sixteenth-century French nobleman to his bride. It is said that the marquis loved his wife but was a jealous man, and feared being cuckolded as had so many of his peers. So he commissioned a pair of rings and had them enchanted by the village wisewoman to ensure his wife’s fidelity. But the wisewoman dabbled with forces she did not fully understand and inadvertently invested the rings with the ability to bind one wearer to the other’s will.”
Darcy’s face drew into a frown of suspicion. “If you were the one who found the rings, how did Parrish come
