~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
George Wickham could not have imagined more pain than what he was experiencing as the cart bumped along, taking him to his ultimate fate. He was conscious for the moment, but, thankfully for him, it was not long before he lost consciousness again. All of the bad choices that he made in his life flashed before his eyes.
It was too late, but he finally saw the folly in believing his mother and following her pronouncements like Gospel. She was a servant that envied anyone who had more than she did, and she had moulded him into her own likeness. If only he had woken up to the truth before he pulled the trigger killing his adoptive father. As he slipped back into blackness, he finally accepted that he had been the author of his own doom.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Jones was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. A few hours before, he had tried to trade information, only to be rebuffed.
When the big footman had come to drop off some bread and water for him, he had played the one card he believed would extract him from this mess.“Afore ya’leave. I‘ave information on the one that‘ired me and sent me‘ere,” he told the big man.“If I’s allowed to go free, I’s will tell all!”
“We don’need you!” Biggs spat back.“Right now, your employer an’all o’yer men 'ave bin captured. You‘ave nothin’that we need!”
Jones hung his head; then he remembered Branch.“What if I tell ya the name o’the man that‘elped me?” He was grasping at straws.
“You must be deaf!” Biggs snickered at the surprised man.“When you was captured, you was told that Branch was workin’for the master of Pemberley the whole time;‘e never‘elped you!‘e was writin’the notes that were sent, so we know all.”
It was at that point that Jones realised that there was no escaping his fate. The only remaining question was if he would swing or be transported.
Chapter2
As the carts pulled up to the door that led down to the coal cellar, five men walked back from the stables knowing that their planning and forethought had prevented a potential disaster for their family. They entered through the kitchen entrance, where Mrs Reynold stuck her head out of her office.
“Master, you are not going to change before you see the family in the green drawing room, are you?” she inquired.
“We are not very clean and smell of horse,” the master returned.
“I would suggest that all of you go to the drawing room first and let your family see you before you bathe and change. There will be hot water delivered for all five of you in twenty minutes,” she promised.
As much as he wanted nothing more than a good soak in his bath, George Darcy recognised the wisdom in his long-time housekeeper’s words. He nodded to Mrs Reynolds, and he and the four others headed for the drawing room.
“George, William!” Lady Anne exclaimed as she saw her men enter. They were dirty and not very fresh smelling, but all she cared about was the visual proof that both of them and the other three were well.
“Itch!” Seventeen-year-old Elizabeth launched herself into her brother’s arms after reassuring herself that Will was also not hurt. At the same time, Andrew and Perry were enfolded in their wives’arms.
“What happened to your hands, brother?” Elizabeth asked as she stepped back and lifted both his hands on which the knuckles were still bloody.
“We all need to go and bathe and change, and then we will tell all,” George interrupted in a raised voice to stop the torrent of questions before they started.
“If Itch is anything to go by, then you all need a good hard scrub,” Elizabeth teased as she held her nose, mocking her brother about his ripe odour.
“She has your sardonic wit, Thomas,” Tammy said quietly to her husband, who nodded his agreement.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Once McLamb and the other men adjusted to the dim light of their temporary home, they saw a man was already being held in the cellar. The woman had told McLamb with pride about her secret spy at the estate and how her victims had no idea of his presence. From the spectacular failure of their plans, it seemed the spy was not a secret to the estate’s inhabitants after all.
Once the guards checked that each man’s irons were secure, the heavy metal door was locked. McLamb cornered the man that was there before them.“Did you tell‘em what we were about?” he asked menacingly. If he felt the man had betrayed them, he would not see another sunrise.
“No, one of‘em guards were workin’as an under-driver, and‘h was stealin’me messages an’writin’ ‘is own. I‘as no idea‘ow he knew, but I never tol’no one!” Jones told the man. Jones did not know who the man was but guessed correctly that he was the leader of the rest of the prisoners.
“‘Ow come you‘ad no idea‘e was onto you?” McLamb asked. The glare in his eyes warned Jones not to lie.
“They let me alone until t’is mornin’; jus’after the coaches left, they clapped me in irons and throwed me in‘ere,” Jones rushed to explain.
“‘Ave you‘eard what they will do wif us?” McLamb asked.
“Nothin’,” Jones answered,“I be Jones.”
