With a grin, his cousin dug into his pocket. “I have an extra key.”
Shaking his head, Darcy said to Miss Elizabeth, “Mrs. Forster appears to have closed herself in one of the chambers. Perhaps your help will be needed. Please come with us.”
Without hesitation, she acknowledged his request.
The colonel cut a striking figure.Even though he was dripping water on the floor, he looked like he was ready to bolt into action.What a gentleman!Yet, why was she not wanting to wipe the moisture from his brow? Why did her gaze immediately move from him to his cousin? It was all exceedingly vexing.
Mr. Darcy was equally disheveled. He, along with the footmen, moved long sofas, bulky wing chairs, and a multitude of furniture from the surrounding rooms into the ballroom. He was incredibly strong and— She refused to think about the man. Her noticing him and being drawn to him was ridiculous since, only days before, she despised the man. And although she had all but decided to think better of him, she could never love Mr. Darcy.Good heavens! Why is she even thinking of him at all, especially during an emergency?
The three hurried up the staircase behind Mrs. Nicholls. They could hear the wind whistling down the corridor from the windows at the end of the hall. The colonel grabbed a brass candlestick before they mounted the stairs, so the light of the flame flickered against the shadows.
Before they reached the locked door, it opened. Out stepped a giggling Mrs. Forster on the arm of…Mr. Wickham?
Elizabeth’s hand shot to her mouth. Tied into a bow on his lapel was the apple-green ribbon she had chosen at the haberdasher. She stopped in place, realizing the implications of what likely happened behind that locked door.Of all the…oh my goodness!
She wanted to scratch the rake’s eyes out, not for Colonel Forster’s sake, but for Lydia’s. Her fool of a sister pursued Mr. Wickham because she misread his toleration of her flirtingas interest. Her most self-centered sibling was selfish enough that had she known the man was committing immoral acts with her supposed friend, Lydia would have never sought his protection. She would be safely ensconced with her family, wailing complaints alongside her mother or running after some other man.
Her fists balled. She had never struck a man before. Even though she did not believe that violence solved anything, her instincts were to hurt him as much as he hurt her sister. When Colonel Fitzwilliam rushed forward, Elizabeth knew from the fierce expression on his face that she would not be the first to have access to the reprobate.
Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm and stopped him. “No, Richard. I will deal with Wickham.” To her, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Nicholls, please see that Mrs. Forster is reunited with her husband.”
Setting aside her own personal need for revenge, Elizabeth and Mrs. Nicholls immediately grabbed Mrs. Forster’s arms before leaving the three angry men in the hall. Their voices followed them. She suspected that they heard far more conversation between Mr. Darcy, the colonel, and Mr. Wickham than they should have.
“Not this time, Darcy.”Richard moved to shove him aside. Darcy refused to budge.
Wickham smirked.
“Dry off, Richard. And cool down.” Darcy protested, unwilling to bend.
“Why?” his cousin pleaded. “Why do you let this rat live? Whenever he crawls out of the gutter with decent people, theysuffer. Do you not care about the damage he does? He has not one ounce of honor in him.”
“We have more important matters at the moment.” Darcy stepped in front of his cousin. “Leave me alone with him.”
Shrugging, Richard muttered as he moved past Wickham, deliberately bumping shoulders with the man, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Filth!”
Wickham straightened his shoulders as though it was he who stopped Richard. “Nice try, Richie.”
Darcy shot him a death glare, hovering over his former friend. “Enough!”
Wickham’s eyes widened with a hint of fear.
“Taunt him at your own risk, George. You need to remember that I am not always around to…”
The whole house gave a violent shake, almost knocking Darcy off his feet. Darcy swore as Wickham, like the coward he was, pushed past him, running down the hall.
Richard threw his door open, grabbing the frame to hold himself still.“Blast!This whole house is unsafe. We need Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to join the others in the ballroom.”
Darcy ran to the other locked door, pounding on the surface. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, open the door immediately.”
When no one responded, he raised his foot and kicked it in, using every ounce of his frustration with Bingley for not showing up to take care of his own and his aggression from dealing with Wickham.
Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst cowered in a corner, their maids trying to hide under the bed. Ignoring Miss Bingley’s hysterical comments about how she had known all along he would save her, they dragged the women to the ballroom.
The house gave another violent shake.
“Into the kitchen, everyone!” Darcy yelled, stirring the group into action. According to the steward’s records he reviewed withBingley upon arrival, the main house at Netherfield Park had been constructed fifty years prior out of trees harvested from the property, an unusual decision by the owner since most great houses were still built with brick or stone. The stucco front was a façade. The portico columns and the kitchen, built from solid stone, were the most stable part of the building. “Hurry!”
“Help us. We beg you!”
