“Thank you, Mr. Wickham. I will go ahead while you seek help,” she said and set off into the woods. She heard Mr. Wickham hurry away behind her, and she was confident he would fetch help as quickly as possible.
She walked quickly down the path, single-minded in her hurry to get to the child, ignoring the sounds of rustling leaves on the ground and the occasional snap of a small branch which indicated that not all the life in the woods was asleep for the winter. She expected to see the poor child as she rounded a bend, but there was no one, only an abandoned cottage in the distance.
The cottage had once belonged to a man who kept these woods, both tending the trees and making sure there were plenty of game birds for the local hunters. No one had lived there for more than ten years, however.
Elizabeth stopped and peered around, but no matter which direction she looked, she could see no large fallen branch and no child. She couldn’t even hear evidence of such a thing. She began to turn around to head back toward Longbourn, perhaps to find Mr. Wickham to ask where the child was, but her movement was halted.
There was a momentary rustle of sound behind her. It was immediately followed by strong hands grabbing her from behind. One arm circled about her mid-section, pinning her arms in place, and the other arm went around her neck.
“You won’t be leaving just yet, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s struggles ceased as the identity of the voice penetrated her mind. It couldn’t be. “Mr. Wickham,” she whispered.
“Now, you and I will go to that cottage over there. You will come quietly without resistance,” he said. “The more you resist, the more I will have to hurt you, and I’d really rather not have to hurt you. This will be much more pleasant for both of us if you are unharmed.”
Elizabeth felt as if she turned to ice. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. When he nudged her forward, she walked instinctively.
They entered the cottage, and Elizabeth looked numbly around. There was a minimum of furniture and a few logs stacked by the fireplace. Even so, it was clearly deserted. The entire place was filthy with ten years’ worth of dust caked over everything, and there was a damp musty smell as if mold had set into the walls.
Once they were inside, Mr. Wickham seemed to grow more confident. At the same time, Elizabeth’s mind began to thaw. As he closed the door behind them, he went from pinning herto his side to simply holding one wrist. It seemed as though he was confident in his ability to keep her from leaving. She quickly searched the room with her eyes for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze landed on the poker which was leaning against the fireplace.
She couldn’t reach it, since it was halfway across the small room, and Mr. Wickham still had a grip on her, but she hoped that if she kept her wits about her, she could get closer to it.
Once the door was closed, he spun her around so she faced him and grasped her other wrist. Her feet were free, however, and for a moment, she thought about kicking him. She had no confidence she could disable him with a single kick, however, and once she tried he was likely to get nasty.
She decided the poker was still the better choice, if only she could get close enough to it.
She took a large step back.
“Now, now, Elizabeth,” he said in a low coaxing voice. “There is no need to be afraid. I’ve heard that I have a talent for pleasing women. Honestly, by the time we’re done, you will be thanking me. Though you may not thank me that Darcy will then leave you. You seem to have developed some sort of misguided affection for that wheyfaced, cocksure, dastard.”
He leaned towards her. She didn’t know exactly what he was planning, but whatever it was would ruin her reputation and likely that of all her sisters as well.
She took another step back. She was only one step away from being able to reach the poker.
Mr. Wickham’s face went from frighteningly coaxing to purely terrifying and he squeezed her left wrist painfully tight as a warning. “Elizabeth, remember you are at my mercy. I wouldnot wish to tie you up, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it. I have rope at my waist. This is your last warning.”
Elizabeth heard him loud and clear. She only had one more chance.
As he bent towards her once again, she waited until his face was merely an inch from her own. Then she stepped back once more. As she did, she wrenched her right arm out of his grip which had loosened slightly as he had bent towards her.
With one motion, she reached for the poker which was just behind her and to the side. Then, not stopping, not pausing, she swung it up and over and brought it down on his head with all the momentum and force she had managed to muster.
He had tried to stop her, but his lust must have slowed his reflexes, for he had only just begun to move when the poker connected with his crown. The blow to his head knocked him immediately unconscious.
Elizabeth dropped the poker and desperately made her way to the door. Once she reached it, she stopped to look behind her. Blood was pooling from the wound on his head. For one sickening moment, Elizabeth thought she might have killed him, but a moment later, she was relieved to see his chest rising and falling. He was still alive.
Elizabeth opened the door and stepped out into the woods. She paused and took a deep breath of fresh air. Then she set off down the path, back out to the road.
As she approached the road, she heard a pair of horses approach. Elizabeth was certain she was filthy from all the dust in the cottage. She suspected that at least her cloak was torn, possibly her gown as well. She did not wish to be seen in her current state. So, she hid behind a tree, poking her head out just enough to see who was riding by.
The horses slowed as they approached the little path into the woods. She heard a man’s voice say, “I saw him just near here.”
“Why would Wickham be hiding in the woods?” asked another voice.
Elizabeth immediately recognized the second voice. It was a voice she trusted with all her heart, though she did not know it until that moment. Without even thinking about whether it was wise, she stepped out from behind her tree.
The moment Mr. Darcy saw her, he jumped from his horse and cried out, “Elizabeth!” He ran toward her as his companion, Colonel Fitzwilliam, dismounted. “Elizabeth, are you hurt? Did Wickham hurt you?”
