man's jugular.
The Pemberley crew wasted no time. They moved forward, spreading in a wide arc with the dogs in front, sweeping the area visually for signs of movement or additional caves. A rapid scan confirmed two holes cut into the rock face of the cliff. A smaller opening some fifteen feet away showed no obvious tracks or signs of use, not that they would assume too much, while the one by the fire was clearly occupied. The bloodhounds were fighting the restraining leash in the mad desire to pursue their scented quarry into the large opening, and the numerous footprints and scattered debris surrounding the rough ground was further proof.
A faint light could be seen from within, but no motion or sounds were perceived. Darcy's heart beat a steady rhythm in his chest, his emotions controlled but the heat of excitement coursing through his veins. Richard's harsh respirations were an audible sign of his enthusiasm.
Vella maintained her position at the man's neck while Mrs. Burr knelt by the side of the terrified sentry, her attractive face set into a mask of fierce resolve. “How many?” she whispered, needing to repeat the question twice before the paralyzed man was able to squeak out the word “four” followed by a weak moan.
“Armed?” she asked.
“Yes… two… pistols.”
She nodded. “Don't move or speak and Vella will let you live. Understand?” His answer was another moan.
Mrs. Burr rose, signals given to convey the message. She stationed herself on one side of the cave opening, Sean on the other. Lew, Ollie, Abel, Mr. Burr, Darcy, and Richard waited several feet away in a line with firearms aimed and the four mastiffs poised. Only then were the frantic hounds released.
They dashed into the cave, finally emitting deep barks as they searched for the owners of the scent embedded in their nasal passageways. Chaos ensued. Shouts and shrieks erupted, crashes and slamming echoed. The pale light was extinguished with the sharp shattering sound of glass. The startled sleepers were completely disoriented from the abrupt awakening into pitch black darkness. Curses rent the air, followed by the unmistakable smell of spilled lamp oil and the sudden snap of flames freely fueled.
Screams pierced the air. The fire lit the walls, showing the way out to the panicked poachers who darted toward safety, only to be tripped up by the dogs who had also decided that the cave was not the best place to be at the moment. They shot out of the exit, adroitly dodging the foremost poacher, who sidestepped in surprise and stumbled into a second frenzied poacher, both of them falling down in a heap at the feet of Mrs. Burr and Sean.
The remaining two avoided the tangle of limbs blocking the exit, running to what they believed to be safety but quickly deducing was anything but at the sight of six shotguns pointed their direction and four growling, slavering dogs waiting to pounce. They skidded to a stop, hands rising in the universal gesture of surrender.
The first two, still unaware of the realities, struggled to their feet. Only one step was taken before they too noted the threat. One man mirrored the actions of the previous captives, his arms lifting as he instantly halted his forward momentum. His partner was the only one who showed the slightest sign of bravery, or stupidity depending on the point of view, by grabbing the grip of the pistol tucked into his belt. His attempt at heroics was short-lived, however, as Mrs. Burr expeditiously reversed her shotgun and smashed the stock forcefully against the man's temple. He crumpled.
“Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Richard said to Darcy a half hour later as they mounted their horses for the ride back to Pemberley.
“Disappointed?”
Richard shrugged. “Somewhat. I haven't shot anyone in ages. I was looking forward to it.”
Darcy laughed. “Please do not tell Elizabeth you were hoping for that sort of action, or she may forbid you assisting me in the future.”
“Only if you promise that the next time will be a bit more exciting. I didn't even work up a sweat.”
“I shall do my best, cousin.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hardly before either Lizzy or Darcy knew it, October was ushered in and the planned second wedding loomed. Truthfully they had no serious disagreements regarding the reaffirming of their vows in the Pemberley Chapel. In fact, both would have happily planned and concluded what was essentially desired to be a simple, intimate affair within days of returning home from their seaside holiday. Lizzy theatrically teased by performing the wedding march with exaggerated waddling and thrusting her stomach out as far as possible. However, she honestly had no moral conflict with exchanging vows in a holy sanctuary with her husband, gravid state or no.
Only two elements gave them pause and delayed the exchange.
One: Georgiana, upon hearing the news, burst forth with schemes and expectations regarding everything from the gown to the flowers to the guest list. Initially both the bride and groom were flummoxed as they saw the cozy, understated affair they envisioned turning into an event. They managed to rein in the more extravagant ideas Georgiana invented, the white doves being a bit too much even for the romantic Darcy, but her enthusiasm was contagious, especially to the fore-noted hopelessly maudlin groom. Even the generally pragmatic Lizzy had to admit that a new gown was desirable.
Second: Lizzy and Darcy realized that whether modest or ostentatious, having as many family members as feasible around to witness the celebration was a pleasing prospect.
For these reasons Lizzy did lean toward waiting until after the baby was born, thinking that then her parents and Kitty would be visiting as well as the Bingleys settled nearby. Darcy pointed out that they could not count on Dr. Darcy still being in England. The truth is, he intoned with all the logic at his disposal, there would necessarily be several members of the family busy elsewhere no matter when they scheduled it, and he stubbornly persisted in his assertion that the ritual take place as soon as possible. The ultimate point of the ceremony was to please his burning need to wed in the Darcy family church.
This latter fact so moved Lizzy that she could not refuse his heart's desire had she wished it. She was well aware of the fact that the vast majority of women would be fortunate to find a man who longed to wed them once, let alone twice! The relationship they now shared meant she wholly comprehended how important being married in the Pemberley Chapel was to him. Therefore, October twelve had been set as the date.
George was in residence and Richard was an added bonus highly pleasing to them both. The elder Fitzwilliams were at Rivallain, as were Jonathan and Priscilla. A hastily scribbled note delivered on the morning of the seventh from Hasberry announced that the Bingleys had arrived the day before. Lizzy was ecstatic. She desired for them to be present but had not expected them as their last communique had alluded to a late October relocation. Within minutes of reading the note Lizzy rose, stating the intent to drive to Hasberry immediately. Darcy leapt to intercept her midway to the door.
“You are absolutely not driving in your condition!”
“William! That is unfair! I am perfectly capable of handling the curricle. I drove it just three days ago to Lambton!”
“Lambton is less than five miles away and a well traveled road. Hasberry is nearly fifteen and partially desolate. It is not a matter of you being unable to handle the carriage, love, as I know you proficient.”
“Then why…” Her voice caught in a sob, Darcy gathering her into a firm embrace.
“Please placate my overprotectiveness just this once. I would worry so. Allow me a compromise: I shall send one of the grooms with a letter the moment you pen one and insist he tarry pending a reply.”
In this way they received confirmation of attendance from the Bingleys before the day was over. That same afternoon Madame du Loire delivered Lizzy's gown for the final fitting, and word reached Darcy that the jeweler had finished the ring. All was set in motion for the renewal of their vows.
October twelfth dawned crisp and cool, but cloudless and brightly sunny. Darcy woke with tingles of excitement racing through his body nearly as intense as on the morning of their official wedding day. Naturally there were a vast number of differences. On November twenty-eighth of 1816 he had barely slept a wink, dreams plagued
