Page 73 of An Accidental Meeting
Doors began to open, and other people arrived. Mr. Bingley, who had taken a moment to pull on his dressing gown, quickly leapt into the fray, grabbing Wickham up by the collar, and allowing Uncle Gardiner to land a single punch.
Elizabeth was certain she would never forget the soft thud of her uncle’s fist being driven into Mr. Wickham’s nose.
“Oh,” Lydia breathed.
Mr. Wickham cried out, covering his face, turning away, swinging one arm out wildly. Mr. Bingley released him, butthen squared up and delivered a quick strike of his own to Mr. Wickham’s chin. Wickham’s head snapped back, and he fell, landing on his back, atop his bag. But he did not stay there for long. In a flash, he had pushed himself to his hands and knees and shot off towards the stairs. Uncle Gardiner and Mr. Bingley, taken unawares, gave chase, and Mr. Wickham glanced over his shoulder at them as he ran.
Out of nowhere, a tall, broad figure appeared in the shadows before the fleeing Mr. Wickham, and Elizabeth held her breath as a collision appeared inevitable. Just as he was about to be struck, the man stepped smoothly to one side and stuck his foot out, sending Mr. Wickham flying. He landed on the floor face-first and skidded several feet along the marble before coming to a stop.
Two burly footmen leapt over the final steps of the staircase and were atop him in an instant.
“Rogers, Peters, well done,” said a voice that Elizabeth knew well. “How did this man get into the house?”
“I shall tell you after,” Elizabeth said quietly, and Mr. Darcy seemed relieved to hear her. He walked over to where she and Lydia were huddled against the wall and helped her to her feet. Uncle Gardiner did the same for Lydia.
Peters stripped the bag Mr. Wickham was carrying from him and bound the man’s hands before Rogers yanked him to his feet. Even in the dim light, Elizabeth could see Mr. Wickham’s nose was bleeding and beginning to swell.
“Carry on, men,” Mr. Darcy told his footmen. “Let me know when the magistrate arrives.”
“Yes sir,” Peters said as he and Rogers hauled Mr. Wickham away.
Mr. Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth. He was holding himself stiffly, and she recalled that she was dressed for bed with only a thin dressing gown over her nightrail. But then,Mr. Darcy was in similar attire. It was the first time she had seen him without a cravat.
"How did you know to come?" she inquired.
"I was not yet asleep," he told her. "And I heard you scream. I am not ashamed to say it nearly froze the blood in my veins." He pressed her hands. "Are you well?”
Even his neck was beautiful. She could feel herself blushing and forced her eyes up to his. “We are all well, Mr. Darcy. Although my uncle and Mr. Bingley may need some cold water or ice for their hands.”
“Not I,” Uncle Gardiner said. “I am not a gentleman, and therefore know how to throw a punch when a thief is running away.” He smiled at Mr. Bingley. “Not quite the same as a match at Gentleman Jack’s, is it?”
Mr. Bingley held his injured hand gingerly in his good one. “Not quite, no.”
"Well, no matter, young man," Uncle Gardiner said, and Elizabeth shook her head, for her uncle was not even yet forty. "You might do, after all. You intend to return to Netherfield when your travelling is done?"
"I intend to travel to Hertfordshire after our stay here," Mr. Bingley said. "I have an apology to deliver."
Miss Bingley stepped out of her room. “Charles,” she said with a yawn, “what is happening?” She looked around the hall, her gaze landing on Lydia. “Miss Lydia!” she exclaimed. “Whatever areyoudoing here?”
Lydia slipped her hand into Elizabeth’s, her voice uncharacteristically small. “I am to attend finishing school nearby.”
“Ah,” Miss Bingley said. “A wise decision. But that cannot be the cause of all the shouting.”
“I did not wish to go,” Lydia said glibly. “We were all arguing.”
Miss Bingley placed one hand on the door frame to steady herself and yawned again. “I would appreciate it if your conversations were quieter and held at a more appropriate time and place. Some of us are attempting to sleep.” She withdrew.
“That was remarkably easy,” Aunt Gardiner said.
“Caroline is a deep sleeper,” Mr. Bingley said with a snicker. “She will not recall any of this in the morning.”
Elizabeth felt a warm, gentle hand on the small of her back. “Are you well?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Perfectly well, Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said tremulously.
Aunt Gardiner took Lydia’s arm and steered her back to her room.
“I am well, truly,” Elizabeth told him. “I cannot believe he came to rob you. And to try to take Lydia with him . . .”
