Wickham’s eyes flashed. “I came back to Stanwick because I wanted retribution against the descendants of those who had turned on my parents and sent them to a fiery grave.”
“An avenging angel?”
Wickham offered an honest smile.“I like that, Darcy—an apropos signature. I believe I may steal it from you.You will not mind, will you, as you will be dead by then?” He gestured at the ceiling. “Those sounds you hear above are my
“Well, unfortunately, Wickham, you will need to be satisfied with my death only. Elizabeth has exiled herself from her family and from me. And like me, she would gladly die to end the curse.” Now it was Darcy’s turn to laugh. “Have you considered, Wickham, what happens to you when I die? The curse involves all of us. Even if you were to capture Elizabeth, she would, as I am doing, sacrifice herself. Then there would be no more bonding of the D’Arcy and Benning families. The curse on the D’Arcy family exists only as long as we produce first born sons. I am the last of the male line, and I refused to allow my wife to produce another.There will be no more, and soon no more villagers.Then what happens to you? If two sides of the triangle are broken, the third collapses into nothingness. It has taken two hundred years to eradicate you, but the evil will stop.”
Wickham feigned nonchalance. “I thought of all this, Darcy.” He stood quickly to make his departure. “I will do a little reconnoitering this evening—see if you lie about your wife’s presence in the area. I am sorry to say I must lock you in. Some of my imitators might consider you an appealing meal.You are quite the delicacy. As the majority of them were brought up with Christian beliefs, I will hang your trusty crucifix on the door to dissuade them of any overwhelming desires they might have to feed on mixed blood.” He hooked the chain on the latch.“Rest now, Darcy. It shall not be much longer.”
Darcy leaned his chair against the wall to relax the tension on his arms. His shoulder joints throbbed from overextending the arms for so long. At this moment, he was happy Elizabeth had deserted him. She would not witness his death nor would she be in danger. He would die by Wickham’s hand or by the strategy of one of those who rhythmically danced to an unknown tune above him; or he would die by his own devices. It was not likely Wickham would think to feed him, so he might starve or die of thirst or smother in his own waste, but Darcy
Wickham moved through the inn like a cold breeze let in through an open window. One of the women who Darcy had dispatched during the night once resided here and had foolishly invited him in. Now, he checked each of the rooms, finding no signs of Elizabeth Darcy, only the remnants of Darcy’s toilette. In some ways it pleased him to know his subterfuge had played out so well, but he also regretted the possibility of meeting the formidable Mrs. Darcy again. The most recent time they met, her incantation had sent him slamming into the back wall of a bookshop, and while he recovered, Elizabeth Darcy had set Amelia Younge free with a powerful thrust of Darcy’s sword. The woman was no wilting violet, that was for sure; in fact, she was a briar rose, just like the one in the accursed ballad about the love between Fair Ellender and Lord Thomas.
Satisfied for the moment, he returned to the house. He would check again tomorrow before he would believe Darcy completely. Wickham had witnessed the love Elizabeth Darcy tried to conceal even before the man married her—as far back as those initial meetings in Hertfordshire and definitely when she followed him to the Netherfield Manor House. She did not fear Wickham, even then, because the woman knew Fitzwilliam Darcy would protect her. Darcy had given her that damnable crucifix, and Elizabeth Bennet put her trust in the symbol of her God and in the man she adored. Wickham avoided touching the necklace that day because of the love associated with it. Darcy had never…never…succumbed to any of the women who threw themselves at his feet, but a saucy maid from a country estate had brought the man to his knees. Originally,Wickham had thought she would be a weapon he could use to defeat Darcy. Little had he known at the time, the reverse was true: Elizabeth Bennet Darcy would give her husband the strength to bring about closure for all of them.
Wickham took up his favorite chair and observed the ritual
Elizabeth hurried from the room she shared with the colonel. She had put away all the bedding had managed to get the various maids to bring her, knowing that her husband’s cousin had spent the past five nights sleeping on hard floors. She was thankful for the man’s intrusion, but tonight she wanted to sleep in her husband’s arms and feel his breath on the back of her neck.
The colonel met her in the open dining room, took her hand, and pulled her towards the private one. “Is something amiss?” she whispered when the door closed behind them.
“The carriage has a problem. A mail coach lost a wheel, and it struck our livery, breaking some of the spokes. It will take several hours to repair.” He still held her hand, expecting Elizabeth to respond impulsively.
“This cannot be!” she protested, breaking for the door before the colonel tightened his hold. She spun back on him. “We have to go today! Fitzwilliam is there, and we both know what danger he is in!”
With his thumbs the colonel wiped away the tears now streaming down her face.“What other choice do we have? My cousin is a strong man; he will not do anything rash.We will make it to Stanwick today, but it will be later than we anticipated. Luckily, we are on the eastern side of the shire, traveling along the coastal way,
Elizabeth strode away from him in agitation. “Why do we not take the horses? I can ride.”
“We have but one saddle, the one from my horse, and even if we could find another, it certainly would not be designed for a lady.” He moved to where she now stood looking out the window. He was absolutely certain she was terrified by what she could not control.“Be reasonable, Elizabeth.We are seven to eight hours away in the carriage. That translates to around six hours in the saddle. Even an experienced rider has difficulty maintaining such a pace.”
Elizabeth now bit her bottom lip, considering all possible scenarios. Finally, she made her decision. “I will give it two hours. If the coach is not repaired by then, I am hiking these skirts to my knees, and I am riding off on the best horse I can acquire.You may join me or choose to wait for the coach, Colonel.”
He laughed at the stubbornness he heard in Elizabeth’s voice. “Two hours, Mrs. Darcy,” he repeated. Then he took two steps towards the door. “Elizabeth,” he said to her back, “my cousin is wealthy in more ways than one.”
Elizabeth heard the door close behind her. Darcy’s cousin was an exemplary man, someone to whom she would always be grateful, but he did not understand. When a person loved as she loved Darcy, a life without that love was impossible. How could she explain that she could not breathe without Darcy? Could not exist without him? He was her other half. Elizabeth’s whole heart belonged to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
