Darcy had scarcely given the order to the driver to do just that, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the sound of approaching horses reached his ears. He glanced back down the road, and his blood ran cold as he saw them—Wickham on horseback, flanked by two workmen with axes.
“Darcy!” Wickham’s voice rang out with a mockery that was unmistakable. He raised a hand in greeting as though they were old friends happening upon each other by chance.
They were trapped. Darcy’s mind raced as he considered their options, but there was nowhere to go.
Elizabeth’s face appeared through the curtain of the carriage window. “Mr Darcy? What is it?”
Darcy turned back to her, his expression grim. “Stay inside the carriage, Elizabeth,” he ordered, his voice low and firm. “Do not come out, whatever happens. Mr Bennet…” Darcy waited until that gentleman’s expression altered from bored to curious. “See that youbothkeep out of sight.”
He stepped down to the road and shut the carriage door behind him with a decisive click.
Wickham had planned this. He had known Darcy would take this road, and apparently, Wickham had no intention of letting him go so easily.
“Well, Darcy, what a surprise to find you here,” Wickham called out, his voice slick with false camaraderie.
Darcy did not answer, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth’s eyes widening through the carriage window. She shrank back, just enough for her father’s quizzical face to appear beside her. Darcy had to resist the urge to give them any sort of signal. No need to inform Wickham that there was someone else in the carriage. Instead, he stepped away, walking to confront Wickham.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Wickham just chuckled and rode his horse forward, stopping before Darcy and leaning down with an easy grin. “You seem to have run into a bit of trouble on the road. Nasty weather, isn’t it? We were just out looking over the roads, and by thunder, look what we found? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to honest people just trying to travel the roads. Especially a man of your standing.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Wickham?”
Wickham’s grin widened. “Oh, nothing much. Just thought I’d offer some assistance. The roads up north can be treacherous, full of bandits, you know. Especially when one is travelling alone.”
“I am not interested in your help. Move aside.”
“Now, now, Darcy. No need to be so hasty. I’ve heard some disturbing things about your friend Bingley. Did you know he left Netherfield in quite a rush? So much so that we were worried for his safety. My men intercepted his carriage on the way to London, just to be sure all was well.”
Darcy’s blood ran cold. Bingley? Intercepted? He had no way of knowing if Wickham was telling the truth, but the mere possibility was enough to make him hesitate.
Wickham reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a white handkerchief, monogrammed with Bingley’s initials. A small, dark stain marked one corner, and Wickham held it up with a mocking smile. “He had a bit of a nosebleed, poor chap. But don’t worry, he is back at Netherfield now, safe and sound.”
Darcy’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the handkerchief. Bingley had left so quickly that he hadn’t even packed a trunk, taking only the clothes on his back. It was entirely possible that Wickham had intercepted him and that Bingley was now being held at Netherfield. But how could Darcy be sure?
Wickham’s eyes gleamed with triumph, sensing Darcy’s uncertainty. “I might suggest you turn back with us, Darcy. Let us go somewhere more comfortable, where we can discuss this like gentlemen. We would not want anything unfortunate to happen to Bingley, now, would we?”
Darcy’s thoughts spun wildly, the urgency to flee clashing with the gnawing dread that Wickham’s threats might be more than empty bluster. The possibility that Bingley’s life could be at stake gnawed at him, tightening the knot of fear in his chest. But showing even the slightest hint of weakness… letting Wickham discover Elizabeth and her father in his carriage, even… was out of the question.
Wickham fed on fear, on hesitation, on any sign that his prey might falter. If Darcy faltered now, it would be like blood in the water to a shark. He had to keep his expression steady, his resolve unshaken, even as the reality of the trap they were in pressed down on him like a vise.
Darcy swallowed hard, his voice cold and measured. “If you have harmed him, Wickham—”
Wickham cut him off with a laugh. “Harmed him? Why, Darcy, I’m offended you’d think such a thing. Bingley is in excellent hands. But accidents can happen, you know, especially on these rough roads.”
Darcy’s breath quickened as he stared down the road, the fallen tree an ominous barrier between him and safety. The rain beat down in steady sheets, soaking through his clothing and chilling him to the bone. The cold was now seeping into his very core, the dampness aggravating the persistent ache in his head. But none of that mattered as much as the immediate danger.
Darcy’s thoughts churned as he weighed the dangers to Elizabeth. He could not dare let her be seen, but what would she face if he left her here, with the carriage? Wickham had two workmen with axes—dangerous enough on their own—but they had no idea that there were passengers in the carriage. His own men were armed, their pistols loaded and ready, and Darcy knew they were capable of defending her. Mr Bennet would have overheard everything by now, and like many gentlemen, he kept two more pistols in the carriage. Darcy felt certain that Elizabeth and her father would have found them by now.
Even so, the thought of leaving Elizabeth behind twisted his gut. But if Wickham discovered her presence, the danger would escalate beyond control. To take her back to Netherfield, where Wickham could easily uncover her attachment to him, would be an even greater risk. Darcy’s only hope was to negotiate carefully, to keep Wickham’s attention on him while his men worked to protect Elizabeth.
Darcy had no choice. He would have to rely on the element of surprise and the resolve of those inside the carriage. Wickham had him cornered, and whether the threat to Bingley was real or a fabrication, Darcy could not afford to take any chances.
Taking a steadying breath, Darcy finally turned to face Wickham, his voice carefully measured. “If Bingley is truly at Netherfield, I will return with you at once. But I shall go on horseback. The coachman and your men can set to clearing this tree from the road in the meantime.”
“Horseback?” Wickham scoffed, a derisive smile playing on his lips. “You are looking rather peaked, Darcy. I wonder why a man in your condition would be so eager to abandon a perfectly good carriage. Especially in this weather?”
Darcy kept his tone casual, refusing to rise to the bait. “It should not be so difficult to comprehend. As I said, I am eager to resume my journey, and it is not likely that any road menders will happen upon this ‘accident’ anytime soon. My men will stay with the carriage and see that the road is passable while I accompany you to clear up this matter with Bingley.”
