She must leave, there was no other help for it. Her purpose here could no longer be called honourable—if she confessed the truth, she was likely hindering Georgiana’s development more than helping, for she represented one more strong tower to which the girl could run, rather than standing to discover her own courage. If only Mrs Annesley would return, so she might havesomeproper company! And if only Lydia…. Elizabeth groaned and leaned her head against the tree. There was no hope of escape on the horizon!
She sniffed, scraping a third tear from her cheek on the roughened trunk. She should no longer remain, but she could hardly bundle her pregnant sister in a carriage and abandon Georgiana to her own devices. What to do? As if in answer, her neck tingled in foreboding.Look back.
She stiffened and raised her head. Had that been a voice or her own imagination?Look!that inner call urged again.
A shiver of dread chilled her. Stumbling in obedience away from the tree, Elizabeth tripped over the rocky ground, back toward the phaeton. What meant such urgency, she could not say, until she came down beside one of the larger stones. There, tucked behind it, was a man she had never seen. He was slightly built, no taller than Elizabeth herself, with craggy features and a missing tooth. He had been crouching out of sight, spying on Lydia and Georgiana, with a bundle of coarse brown sacking clutched in his hand.
When Elizabeth came upon him he leapt up in surprise, and hissed out under his breath, “Blimey, Jakes, ‘ere’s t’other! She’s seen us!”
Elizabeth yelped and jumped backward as the man reached to snatch her arm. From several yards away, behind a clump of brush, she saw another head rear into view. This man was much taller than his companion, and by frantic motions he immediately demanded that Elizabeth be captured and silenced.
Elizabeth was already pinwheeling her arms, scrambling for footing to reverse direction. Her attacker was faster and stronger, but she had already been in motion before he gained his feet. “Georgiana! Lydia!” she cried, racing back to the ponies as fast as her terrified legs could carry her. “Go—run, now!”
Her pursuer swore and gave up on stealth, now that the alarm had been raised. “I’ll teach ya, ya wench! Look’it ya’ve done!”
Elizabeth did look. Georgiana and Lydia had turned from the little creek, their heads tilted curiously at the panic in Elizabeth’s voice. When they understood the cause, they clutched one another’s hands and froze, their eyes locked on the oncoming attack.
“Go! To the carriage!” Elizabeth shouted in frustration. “Don’t stand there looking daft,run!”
The effort of shouting cost Elizabeth much-needed breath, and the first man was able to make a desperate lunge for her elbow. He caught her, but only firmly enough to slow and trip her up. She fell before him to the grass, and he was unable to check his stride before his boots slammed into her legs, then he likewise toppled to the ground.
Elizabeth never heard herself shriek in pain, though Lydia would later testify to it. She rolled to her back and kicked with all her might, and by some chance the heel of her walking boot caught the man’s chin. He howled in rage, spitting blood, but Elizabeth was already on her feet again.
Limping this time, it was all she could do to scurry the rest of the distance to the phaeton. She threw herself into it, fumbling to yank the knot out of the reins. Drat it all, she didn’t know how to drive a team! In fact, she had made a point ofnotacquiring any skills with horses, and only now had she learned to regret it!Wherewas Georgiana?
A terrified squeal gave the answer, and Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped. The larger man had not joined his companion in pursuing her, but had veered after his true quarry—the adolescent heiress who possessed a mere quarter of his strength, guarded now only by a visibly pregnant girl as terrified as she. Elizabeth’s pulse hammered in her ears, and she screamed their names again.
She dared not glance back to see where the other man was. She snatched desperately at the reins, slapping the ponies’ backs with a viciousness she did not know she possessed. The little phaeton began to roll, then jerked as it was grabbed from behind. Elizabeth let out an involuntary cry, diving her body low over the front of the dainty vehicle as she urged the ponies on. They proved faster and stronger than her pursuer, and Elizabeth pushed them haphazardly toward the girls as he fell to the rear.
“Run!” she cried again, to no avail. Lydia was wholly incapable of running. She was hobbling awkwardly, one hand bracing her stomach and the other stretched out to Georgiana—whether offering assistance or begging it, none could say. Georgiana was trembling, still nearly paralysed and staring helplessly at her approaching attacker.
Elizabeth slashed at the ponies again with the reins, unleashing a cry of righteous fury. She gave a fierce jerk on the right rein, and in a heartbeat, the ponies had dashed into the man called Jakes. The last vision Elizabeth had of him was a raised forearm, a silent scream of terror, and then he disappeared. Only after the phaeton had lurched wildly did she realise, sickeningly, that his body had rolled under the wheels.
Elizabeth glanced once more over her shoulder and saw the shorter man running in the opposite direction. His companion lay groaning in the wet grass, his face covered in mud and blood, giving no indication of rising. Only then did she allow herself the luxury of a breath of air. “Georgiana! Lydia! You must come, now!”
The girls had overcome their shock sufficiently to stumble toward the phaeton, but neither could mount without Elizabeth’s assistance. In Lydia’s case, she could not have stepped up in any event, but Georgiana was still quaking in sheer panic. All Elizabeth’s attempts to wrap Georgiana’s numb fingers over the reins proved fruitless—the girl was still staring dumbly at the man on the ground, her jaw slack and her features waxen.
Elizabeth finally took back the reins. Not for another moment did she dare linger in the vicinity, and she nearly tipped the little carriage down the slope in her hurried, inexpert attempts to drive it. Happily, the ponies showed themselves to be sturdier than all Elizabeth’s mishandling, and in a trice, they were galloping again on flat ground.
Georgiana was still speechless, her hands white on the frame of the phaeton, but Lydia had recovered her powers sufficiently to wonder aloud who would dare so. “Lizzy, who was that? The blackguard, serve him right if he is killed!”
Elizabeth set her mouth grimly and made no answer. She drove the team like a demon, swatting away with the whip she had just discovered, and then snatching the reins back when their speed exceeded her comfort. Finding help and returning the others to the safety of Pemberley became her sole thought. Thus, it was with first alarm, then relief, that she saw a third man break from the trees, hurtling toward them on long legs as his familiar red hair caught the sun. O’Donnell!
She drew up on the reins, slowing the ponies just enough to catch his words. “‘Ware, Miss Darcy! Miss Bennet, fly to the ‘ouse! Strangers in the hills, ‘t’is not safe!”
Elizabethacceptedthesteamingcup from her sister, then assumed a place beside Georgiana. “What is being done, Mr Jefferson?” she asked, for the young mistress was yet too shaken to make sensible inquiry.
The steward shook his head and frowned. “We only found the one fellow struck by the carriage, Miss. He’s a good deal knocked about, and he’s been senseless since we found him. It looks as though he took a hoof to the head and another to the stomach—the surgeon says he is bleeding from inside. It is doubtful he will ever recover to speak.”
“So, there is no learning who he is, or how he came there? What could he have wanted of Miss Darcy?”
Mr Jefferson shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the ladies. “They had rope, Miss, and three or four sacks large enough to cover a person’s head. They had two horses still waiting over a slope to the north, and it looks as though a third horse was ridden away.”
“A kidnapping!” Lydia blurted. “But only horses enough to take one of us!”
Elizabeth watched Georgiana’s face drain even further and clasped the girl’s hand. “Mr Jefferson,” she turned back toward the man, “how could they have known that we would be found there today? None came after us as we drove, so they must have lain in ambush, waiting for a chance to take Miss Darcy when she was relatively unprotected. Who could have given them such information?”
“An investigation is being made as we speak, Miss Bennet. I have just spoken with Mrs Reynolds and Mr Hodges, and as yet the only servant of the house whose whereabouts cannot be accounted for is Mr O’Donnell.”
