Leading the way, Elizabeth ran from the inn, a swarm of feet clambering after her. Outside, Mr. Bingley hurtled down the street, Charlotte following, holding up her hem with both hands. Elizabeth pointed at the alleyway. Men ran past her on both sides, pouring in.
Curses sounded from the narrow gap between the two buildings, packed with bodies now. Deeper within, his voice taking on an almost military crack of command, Mr. Darcy ordered, “Keep them alive for questioning.”
Mr. Bingley skidded to a halt beside his sister, who had finally stopped screaming. “What happened?”
“Two men are attempting to abduct Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley replied, nearly as out of breath from her cries as her brother was from his run.
Elizabeth turned to her. “You seem very certain they want to abduct him. Could they not be thieves?”
Miss Bingley shook her head saying, as Charlotte reached them, “No. They mean to abduct him. He—”
“Caroline,” Mr. Bingley cut in sharply.
She cast him an annoyed look. “Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas can hardly have failed to notice what is taking place. Nor are they unintelligent.” With that, she continued, “Mr. Darcy has become the target of a plot to abduct him. That is why he left London.”
Understanding washed through Elizabeth, setting many small matters right. “You offered him sanctuary,” she said, looking past Miss Bingley at her brother.
He shrugged, his attention on the mass of people moving about in the alleyway. Somewhere deeper within, Mr. Darcy commanded, “Take their arms.”
Mr. Bingley inviting a man with apparent disdain for the countryside to stay with him made sense now. As did Mr. Darcy, who obviously felt he was above his company when he attended the assembly. Mr. Bingley would not want to leave his hunted guest alone for long.
For all Elizabeth knew, Mr. Bingley did not actually care overly much for the man, who he seemed a touch awkward around, though Miss Bingley obviously did. With what Elizabethhad seen of Mr. Darcy, he likely didn’t even appreciate Mr. Bingley’s assistance. He undoubtedly considered the honor of his company compensation enough for any imposition or even danger to Mr. Bingley and his relations.
So much about the stiffness between the two gentlemen, the awkwardness, and about Mr. Darcy’s apparent dislike of everything and everyone around him, made sense now.
“Now that the attempt has been made, will he return to London?” Charlotte asked.
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “I do not know. I am not certain how many are involved in the threat to him.”
Men spilled from the alleyway onto the street before the inn, including the pair of ruffians, each escorted by two men. Those turned immediately in the direction of the magistrate’s office, Mr. Darcy following. If Elizabeth didn’t know he was simply a supercilious gentleman, she would call his stride militant.
“Surely, the danger is not passed.” Miss Bingley sounded hopeful.
Mr. Bingley cast her a surprised look.
She shrugged, gesturing up the street in the direction Mr. Darcy and his would-be abductors had gone. “Those two did not strike me as great criminal masterminds.”
Though Elizabeth would much rather Mr. Darcy be safe and back in London than at Netherfield Park overshadowing Mr. Bingley’s amiability with his sour hauteur, she could not help but agree with Miss Bingley. Undoubtedly, Mr. Darcy was still in danger, and would remain. The better question was, were they in danger if they were near him?
Chapter Ten
Darcy’s carriage slowed, then came to a halt, eliciting a frown. To either side were old, worn buildings of two or three levels, he assumed indicating that they were in the village of Meryton, the final village they were meant to pass through before reaching Netherfield Park. He had not ordered a halt here, nor could he conceive of any reason to stop. Especially not when they must be quite near their destination.
Across from him, Georgiana had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep after several days and nights of sobbing and railing, as if he took her to be ensconced in a convent, rather than to visit another gentleman’s country estate. One where she knew, though admittedly was not overly fond of, everyone she would meet, for none of Bingley’s letters indicated he’d invited any guests other than his relations. Another detail that spoke of something embarrassingly wrong with his choice of property. Bingley was a social creature.
From somewhere ahead, the rumble of voices reached Darcy. Obviously, some sort of obstruction to their journey. One that did not appear to be moving, as they were not.
In consideration of Georgiana’s slumber, he quietly exited the carriage, rather than calling to his driver. Staggered about the rough cobbles before them, men gathered in front of what appeared to be the local inn, speaking animatedly. They seemed in high spirits, but Darcy could see no reason for them to be in the street. He was about to ask his driver to go disperse them when, off to one side of the main gaggle, he sighted none other than Bingley, standing with Miss Bingley and two women Darcy didn’t know. At least not at a distance.
He started forward, his attention catching on the younger, darker haired of the unfamiliar pair as he drew nearer. No, he definitely did not know her. He didn’t recognize her elegantprofile. That pert nose or narrow chin. The perfect bow of her lips. Dark eyes that held so much intelligence and interest, they seemed nearly to glow.
He would remember if he had ever beheld such a beguiling creature before. Hers was a face no man could forget.
“Bingley,” he called, walking up to the four.
Bingley turned from watching the commotion, his gaze finding Darcy. Like a trap door in a haymow, Bingley’s mouth dropped open. Color drained from his face. He gulped.
“Why, if it is not my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” Richard’s familiar voice said from behind Darcy. “I knew I recognized that carriage. Mine, loaned to you for your use while you have been chaperoning my dear sister. What an unexpected surprise to see you here.”
