Page 38 of Leave Her Wild
“Jane cannot be a widow before she is married, Mama. Think upon the silliness of your words.” Elizabeth argued as she crawled into the coach before the others. She meant to be in London as quickly as possible.
“Write when you know the nature of the full story,” her father ordered, and Elizabeth nodded her agreement. Within minutes, Mary followed and then Jane. At last, Mr. Bingley managed his farewells and joined them. Soon, they were on the main road towards London, and Elizabeth began to count off the seconds in her head until they reached Mr. Darcy’s home.
In St Albans, Mr. Bingley’s coach stopped so the horses could be changed out. Elizabeth had not entered the inn with Mr. Bingley and her sisters. Instead, she stood on the small porch and continued to count off the minutes. By her estimation, they still had an hour to reach the outskirts of London proper and then however long it would be to Mayfair. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Mr. Darcy would live. “Even if he intends to marry Jane, dear God,” she murmured, “permit him to survive. I cannot imagine . . .”
When she opened her tear-filled eyes, Jane was before her. Elizabeth swallowed hard, while her sister smiled. “It is as I suspected. How long have you loved Mr. Darcy?”
“For nearly six years,” Elizabeth admitted. “In truth, perhaps I did not always love him—loathed him for more years than I care to name. Yet, in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable.” A sad understanding formed in Jane’s blue eyes. “I am sorry, my sweet Jane. I promised myself I would never admit it even to myself.”
Jane gathered Elizabeth into her arms. “I am sorry to have wronged you.” When they climbed into the coach again, the two eldest Bennet sisters sat together on the coach’s forward-facingseat. They held hands, just as they had done throughout most of their lives. They remained as such until Mr. Bingley’s coach rolled to a stop before the most fashionable house Elizabeth could ever imagine, though, in truth, her eyes were not on its grandeur. She would not be happy until they rested on “his” face, and she knew he was still alive.
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Bingley stepped down and assisted each of them to the sidewalk while several footmen claimed their trunks.
“I should send word of our arrival to Uncle Gardiner,” Jane said.
Elizabeth did not respond, but Mr. Bingley said, “I can call on the Gardiners if you wish. Obviously, they are likely worried about your family’s arrival and not receiving word will make their fears more prominent.”
The colonel exited the house to greet them. “Ladies,” he said as he bowed. “We should all go inside before we attract more attention than we have already.”
Elizabeth ignored the others. “Your cousin? What might you tell us?”
The colonel caught her arm and led her inside. “The surgeon has removed fragments from the bullet and strands of material from his clothing and bone chips. Now it is a matter of time. I have a dozen men searching every inn and gaming hell in London for Mr. Wickham.”
Always the practical one, Mary informed the colonel, “Mr. Wickham retrieved our sister at eleven of the clock today. They were to leave together on the afternoon coach headed north. Mr. Wickham styled himself as an outrider, for, somehow he has taken possession of a fine horse, which he claimed to have won in a game of cards, but . . .”
“I wish you were a soldier, Miss Mary. If so, I would present you with a promotion on the spot, for you are clever and sensible in all matters. Mr. Thacker,” he turned to the waiting butler. “This is Miss Bennet’s sisters, Miss Elizabeth and MissMary. If either of them ask you to jump, respond with ‘How high, miss?’ and then execute their orders.” To them, he bowed again. “Ladies, I must send men to overtake the coach headed north.”
“Though she is silly, it would break our mother’s heart if Mrs. Wickham knew harm,” Mary instructed, “but be aware Lydia will fight like the proverbial she-cat to protect Mr. Wickham. Do not turn your back on her.”
The colonel smiled widely upon the young woman. “Mr. Ericks has outwitted half of England, for he has quietly chosen a jewel among the female populace.” Fitzwilliam presented Mary a deep bow.
Elizabeth had waited longer than her anxiety could permit. “Might I view Mr. Darcy now?”
The colonel glanced at Jane for her permission. “I faint at the sight of blood,” Jane said with a small smile. “Now, Colonel, I would suggest you lead Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy’s quarters, or I shall guarantee you will find yourself chasing after her, for when she has set her mind to a task, few are foolish enough to stand in her way.” To Elizabeth, Jane said, “When Mr. Darcy wakes, tell him how much you esteem him.”
“Mr. Thacker, please lead the lady to Darcy’s quarters,” the colonel instructed, but an unusual look of knowing crossed his features.
“Come, Mary,” Elizabeth instructed. “Bring the items we brought with us from the still room,” Elizabeth said as the butler hastened around her to lead the way. Even as she climbed, she heard the conversation below and approved.
“Would you care to call upon the Gardiners for a few minutes?” Mr. Bingley asked.
“I should stay,” Jane said, “but I would be glad if you returned afterwards.”
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Elizabeth entered the gentleman’s private chambers to find it worse than a vault at a family crypt. A young blonde girl who reminded her of Jane sat in the corner working a handkerchief through her fingers. Evidently, she was Mr. Darcy’s sister. The room was as still as if death itself had taken up residence.
She glanced to the bed and stared closely to search for the rise and fall of Mr. Darcy’s chest. Though shallow, it was there. “Thank God,” she murmured.
The girl stood and asked with a trembling voice, “Miss Bennet?”
“My sister,” Elizabeth responded as she crossed the room to the window and drew the drapes aside. “I am Miss Elizabeth. The young lady still by the door is my sister, Miss Mary Bennet.” She opened the window. “Mary, would you open the other one?”
“What are you doing?” the young woman asked.
“Attempting to save your brother,” Elizabeth remarked as she put out the candles with a bit of spit on the tips of her fingers. Then she removed her bonnet and tossed it on a chest in the corner of the room.
