“Who’s there!” Mr Wickham bellowed.
Elizabeth’s voice caught; her teeth locked as if her own body was trying to stall her. There was another strangled cry from Georgiana, followed by a sob, and Elizabeth’s blood heated. For an instant, her vision ran red and her senses buzzed with the memory of shattering glass and the tang of copper. But what choice had she? She agonised a moment in indecision and with every heartbeat, every breath, she hated herself all the more for the helpless terror that gripped her. She should go back, call for help—yes, that was what she should do…
Then she would forever despise herself for how long she stood there listening to the girl’s fear and suffering. And what would happen while she was away, even long enough to find the gardener? Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Think, Lizzy, think!”
Another cry from Georgiana split her consciousness and galvanised all her doubts. Elizabeth curled back her lips in a fearsome snarl and charged forward. Just before the stone bench stood the couple, the man’s hand clamped over Miss Darcy’s mouth and another cradling her throat. He had taken up his stance behind her and now glared at Elizabeth over the girl’s head. She was whimpering, trying to cover her face with her hands, and Elizabeth saw a trickle of blood slipping down her chin.
“Get away from her!” Elizabeth shouted.
He hardly had a chance to sneer or to turn Miss Darcy’s body to deflect the blow before Elizabeth was on top of him, slashing indiscriminately with her branch and beating him over the head with her free hand. It was not enough to cause any real damage, but it flew him into a panic, and he tried to whirl away, throwing elbows and trying to shield his prize from Elizabeth’s prying hands.
That was enough for Georgiana, with terror-stricken eyes, to recognise her chance to escape. She struggled from Mr Wickham’s grasp and ran, but this only freed up his hands to snatch the branch from Elizabeth. He rounded on her, using it to whip her across the arms she held over her face. Temporarily dazed, her eyes were closed when he caught her around the throat with one large hand and pulled her against his chest.
“What shall it be, Georgiana? I warned you not to cross me. Send for the carriage and swear we will leave for London tonight, or watch me snap her neck!”
“George!” Miss Darcy pleaded, “How could you?”
“How could you lie to me?” he shot back. “Six months—six months! You promised, you spoiled little wench! Good lord, did you really think any man would swoon for your imperious snobbery? You have one attraction, and you swore—”
Elizabeth’s fist moved quickly, her heel following close after it. Mr Wickham grunted, his words cut off with bulging eyes and a groan of pain as he clutched his nether regions and doubled over.
This was not enough for Elizabeth—her ire was hot, and her thoughts a blur. Only later would she learn that she was shrieking in rage when she fell upon the prostrate villain, slinging punches like a man and then clawing, pinching, and twisting anything she could reach. A flood of vitriol poured from her, but she was conscious of none of it until someone grabbed her round the torso and pulled her back.
“Elizabeth!” Georgiana cried, her voice choked and unsteady. “Stop it, you will kill him!”
Elizabeth lurched, her fist cocked and splattered lightly with blood—she did not know whose. “He wouldn’t be the first,” she growled low.
Georgiana sucked in her breath. Mr Wickham, who was starting to pick himself off the pavers, gaped at Elizabeth in wary shock. “Good God,” he coughed, rubbing the ear she had savagely twisted. “Woman, you are mad!”
“Lay a finger on me or anyone else, and you will see just how mad!” Elizabeth shot back. “Coward and swine, you are!”
“Elizabeth—” Georgiana was tugging on her elbow now and keeping a weather eye on Mr Wickham. “Please—let us go back to the house.”
Mr Wickham stuffed his hat back on his head and took one—only one—threatening step towards them. “You’ll regret this, Georgiana. No one turns me away and does not pay for it!”
Georgiana’s eyes glittered with tears, but she haltingly thrust her bloodied chin high. “You cannot touch me, George. Go away and never come back.”
He straightened his coat with a jerk, made one last sullen glare at Elizabeth, then stalked away. Georgiana’s breath escaped in a great puff, and she gripped the back of the bench in a daze.
All the starch seemed to leak out of Elizabeth. She swayed—spots danced in her vision, and she staggered against Georgiana. And then the tears… great, gasping sobs, sheets of sorrow and trembling waves of fear shook her until she stumbled into the bench.
Georgiana, for perhaps the first time in her coddled little life, earnestly sought to comfort someone else. Though shaking visibly herself, she had found her handkerchief and was mopping the sweat and hair from Elizabeth’s brow as she wept. After that, she merely clutched one of Elizabeth’s hands, and they choked back their sobs together, though Georgiana was the first to reclaim her equanimity. Only when Elizabeth’s breath had stilled, and she rolled her head back to stretch her neck and gaze blankly up at the glass ceiling, did Georgiana dare to speak.
“Can you walk?”
Elizabeth sniffed. “Yes. Forgive me for being such a ninny—I am well enough.”
Georgiana snorted, then wiped a stray bit of moisture from her cheek. “I have never met a ‘ninny’ who could do what you just did, Elizabeth. I thought you were going to take his head off.”
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the ground and remained there when she spoke next. “I do not know what I would have done… truly. Thank you for stopping me before…”
“Before you killed him?”
Their eyes met, and Georgiana thinned her lips. “Do you know, I have wondered about you from the beginning, but I never suspectedthat.”
Elizabeth scrubbed her eyes with her hands. “It is a very long story.”
“No story worth hearing is not.” Georgiana pressed her palms together between her thighs and blew steadily in and out for several breaths. “I do not feel safe here just now. We need to get back to the house.”
