Page 72 of An Accidental Meeting
“Wickham has come!” Lydia crowed. “He said that he would. We love each other too much to be separated. You will see.”
“Mr. Wickham is here?” Elizabeth cried. “Now?”
“He climbed up to my window,” Lydia said with a dramatic sigh. “So romantic. I let him in, and he told me to pack my trunk while he fetched some things that belong to him.”
“How did he know which room was yours?”
“Before we came inside, he told me that if we were separated I should leave my window open as high as it would go, and he would find me.”
Elizabeth had to hand it to Mr. Wickham—he was determined. Mr. Darcy had footmen patrolling outside, and the guest wingwas on the first floor, though she supposed if anyone could scale the edifice, it would be a man who had grown up on the estate. Particularly one who might have a reason to avoid being seen re-entering the house.
She moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Uncle,” Elizabeth replied over her shoulder, not slowing her pace. Mr. Darcy’s room was in the family wing, or she would have gone to him first. The Gardiners were staying next to her room across the hall.
“No, Lizzy, you mustn’t!” Lydia exclaimed, grabbing Elizabeth’s arm. “For he will spoil everything, you know he will!”
“I think your Mr. Wickham has already spoiled everything,” Elizabeth said, yanking her arm away. “He has deserted his post and broken into this house, Lydia. If he had come solely for you, the two of you would already be gone.”
“You would not understand,” Lydia responded, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You have never been in love.”
Mr. Wickham entered the room just as Elizabeth freed her arm and turned to go—his appearance sent her scampering backwards.
“Damn it, Lydia!” Mr. Wickham hissed, looking between her and Elizabeth and closing the door. “I told you not to say a word!”
Elizabeth reached over to the table and lifted the candle. In the weak fluttering light, Mr. Wickham’s handsome features were almost ghoulish. A bag slung across his body by a wide strap sagged with weight at one hip.
“Lizzy came and found me—I did not tell anyone!” Lydia glanced at the bag and then up at Mr. Wickham. “What is that?”
“Nothing,” Mr. Wickham said, hiking it up to the centre of his back and striding to the window, where he stuck his head out and looked both ways.
“Mr. Darcy said you wanted fifteen thousand pounds,” Lydia said. “Is there fifteen thousand pounds in your bag? Will it take us to Gretna Green?”
“Stupid chit,” Mr. Wickham said, disgusted, drawing his head back inside so quickly Elizabeth thought he must have spied the guards. “You were only here to ensure my admittance to Pemberley. If you had done your job properly, I would have had my own room and not had to climb up here at the risk of breaking my neck. Be glad you were not left in London.” He glanced at the closed door and then at the two of them.
For one ghastly moment, his eyes rested on Elizabeth. Her breath caught in her throat as he reached forward, but his arm only brushed hers as he grasped Lydia and tugged her along. "Come with me. Your relations will pay mesomethingfor you." He smiled at Elizabeth. "Do not think of crying for help, Miss Elizabeth, orbothyour reputations will be in tatters."
Lydia’s mouth fell open and she was pulled along without protest as Mr. Wickham moved into the hall.
For a moment, Elizabeth did not move. They had only just thought of a story that might prevent scandal, and now this. Stupid, stupid Lydia!
Her sister's plaintive complaints drifted back to her, and Elizabeth knew what she had to do. That man could not be allowed to leave with Lydia.
She hurried to the window to look out as Mr. Wickham had, and saw that a few men were patrolling the grounds beneath the window. She cupped her hands to her mouth and cried, as loudly as she was able. “Thief! Thief!”
It worked. Their heads jerked up at her, and as she waved her arms, they cried out to the other men and broke into a run. Elizabeth hurried out into the hall, hoping to wake her uncle and Mr. Bingley, whose rooms were nearby. “Help!” she cried, thenshouted again, so anyone guarding the house inside would hear. “Thief!”
In his haste to escape, Mr. Wickham had turned the wrong way in the dark. Now he whirled about, still dragging Lydia behind him, to flee in the other direction. Lydia struggled to keep her feet, and Elizabeth wondered briefly why Mr. Wickham did not simply give up and run—his escape was being actively hampered. But instead, he came directly at her.
Elizabeth screamed. Mr. Wickham faltered ever so slightly, and she lunged at her sister.
Her arms wrapped around Lydia's waist and they both fell to the floor. With so much weight moving in the opposite direction, Mr. Wickham lost his grasp on Lydia's arm. Surprised, he turned to look behind him but did not immediately move to reclaim his prize.
That hesitation cost him, for the door to the Gardiners’ chamber flew open and crashed against the wall, while Uncle Gardiner, dressed only in his nightshirt, launched himself at the intruder. Aunt Gardiner appeared in the doorway a moment later.
Elizabeth crawled back to the wall, pulling Lydia with her, and then sat, holding her hands over her mouth. It was everything horrible. Her uncle had tossed Mr. Wickham down and they were now rolling about the floor, shouting.
