Elizabeth gladly agreed, and the two lost themselves in each other for the rest of the afternoon.
MONDAY, 18 NOVEMBER 1811
The Darcys spent their remaining days at Pemberley resting and taking leisurely walks through the estate’s grounds. With the trouble that awaited them in London looming over their thoughts, this time became a brief respite—one they would later recall as the calm before the storm.
On the third Monday of November, all three Darcys boarded the carriages that would take them to London. Their large travelling carriage was accompanied by a second with their luggage and the servants who would accompany the family to town.
However, with Richard’s earlier warning about Lady Catherine still fresh in his mind, Darcy took no chances. He ensured both coachmen were well armed and placed a second man beside each of them for added security. Several outriders flanked the party, some riding ahead while others trailed behind. They kept their distance, staying out of sight whenever possible, but always ready to act should any danger approach unnoticed.
The first two days of travel passed without incident. Early on the third day, however, an advance rider spotted a large tree blocking the narrowest stretch of road. The carriages would be forced to halt so the coachmen could move the obstruction, making the Darcys easy targets.
The scout, cautious, rode a short distance beyond the log before circling back through a wooded area, scanning for any sign of an ambush. Finding no one, he returned to the carriages and signalled for them to stop. Darcy, still seated in his carriage, listened as the scout reported the situation to him and the other outriders. His expression darkened as he processed the news.
“We will proceed with care,” Darcy muttered, his voice low and tense. He glanced at the armed outriders. “Have the men ready. I suspect this is more than a coincidence.”
As an extra precaution, the Darcys moved into the secondary carriage. Two outriders tied their horses to the back of Darcy’s now-empty carriage and boarded it, pistols drawn, prepared for anything. The other outriders rode ahead, positioning themselves strategically in the forest around the downed tree,careful not to make any noise and to hide themselves and their horses from sight.
The convoy approached the blocked path slowly. The coachmen dismounted from each carriage to clear the downed tree. Normally, Darcy would have joined in to help, but in this situation, he stayed inside, a pistol resting in his lap, his senses alert for any sign of danger. His valet, sitting next to him, was also armed with a pistol and was prepared to use it as necessary.
As they waited for the tree to be moved, the tension within the carriage grew. Every creak of the wheels, every rustle of leaves seemed to echo louder than usual. Darcy’s eyes flicked to Elizabeth, who was seated across from him, next to Georgiana. Sitting between Mrs. Annesley and the maid that accompanied them, the two ladies clasped their hands tightly in their laps as they waited. Elizabeth caught his gaze and gave him a small reassuring smile though he could see the worry she hid beneath her calm exterior. At Georgiana’s slight tremble, Elizabeth reached over and took her new sister’s hand in hers to provide whatever reassurance she could.
The coachmen worked quickly but cautiously, glancing nervously at the surrounding woods as they began to clear the obstruction. Darcy’s men remained on high alert, hidden within the trees, their pistols ready. It was only a matter of time before something happened.
They heard an owl sound—a warning from one of the scouts. Before anyone could react to the noise, a group of masked men appeared from the dense underbrush, charging towards the carriages. Darcy cursed under his breath. It was an ambush.
“Get down!” Darcy whispered harshly, pulling Elizabeth and Georgiana to the floor of the carriage and crouching over them.
Wickham led the charge, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Even with the mask, Darcy recognised his former friend. His small band of men followed, weapons drawn, their target unmistakable—the carriage where they believed Elizabeth sat.
The four men surrounded Darcy’s carriage, and Wickham’s voice rang out. He grinned as he moved closer, his pistol raised as he shouted at the carriage with the shades drawn. “Darcy, raise the shades immediately. Send Mrs. Darcy out, but no one else in the carriage should move. I might consider exchanging Mrs. Darcy for Georgiana, although I would need your carriage to take the two of us to Gretna Green. Which will it be, Darcy—your sister or your wife?”
Silence hung in the air as Wickham awaited a response. Darcy leapt down from the second carriage, his gun trained on Wickham. “You will not take either one,” he declared, his voice steady despite the tension.
As Wickham’s men shifted their focus, a sudden commotion erupted from within the carriage where they were standing. The sharp crack of gunfire rang out, and two of Wickham’s men crumpled to the ground, struck down before they could react. Wickham’s remaining accomplice, eyes wide with fear, dropped his weapon and sprinted towards the woods, desperate to escape.
“Come back!” Wickham shouted, his bravado faltering as he instinctively took a step back. The realisation that his carefully laid plans were crumbling before him dawned on him, and he wrenched open the door of the carriage he thought held Elizabeth. At seeing the carriage occupied only by two men, their guns at the ready, his expression morphed from arrogance to desperation. “This is not over, Darcy! I will have what isrightfully mine!” Wickham yelled, as he attempted to back away into the trees.
“Not if I can help it,” Darcy muttered, eyes narrowing as he prepared to pursue Wickham. But a quick glance at the carriage containing Elizabeth and Georgiana reminded him of his priorities. He needed to ensure his family’s safety first.
Nearly as soon as Wickham entered the woods, he was knocked to the ground by a fist. “Got him,” the man yelled out to those in the carriages. A moment later, the rather large man, one of the former soldiers sent by Fitzwilliam, hauled an insensible Wickham over his shoulder. “The third man got away in the woods, but I do not think we need to worry about him returning,” he said. Working quickly, he tied Wickham’s hands and feet, leaving his mouth uncovered.
The rest of Darcy's men reappeared from where they had hidden in the trees, leading their own horses and those belonging to Wickham’s accomplices. Wickham was tossed onto one, his hands tied to the saddle to prevent his getting away. The coachmen, together with the outriders not still guarding the carriages or their prisoner, made quick work of the tree that blocked their path. Before much longer, they were back on the road headed towards London.
When they arrived in the next town, Darcy decided against continuing any further that night. Instead, he and two of his men took Wickham to the local magistrate, where they explained the situation and the longstanding grudge Wickham held against the Darcy family. The magistrate, a stout man with an air of authority, accepted Wickham into custody, assuring Darcy that the prisoner would be looked after.
Chapter Nineteen
Later that day, as Elizabeth and Darcy strolled arm in arm along the riverbank, the serene atmosphere sharply contrasted with the tension that had recently enveloped them. Elizabeth paused occasionally to admire the gentle ripples of the water, her expression softening with each moment, while Darcy remained watchful, his protective instincts heightened.
Suddenly, from the undergrowth near the river, Wickham emerged, brandishing a knife. A wave of surprise washed over Elizabeth as she instinctively stepped back. Darcy moved in front of her, his body tense, ready to shield her at any cost.
“Wickham,” Darcy warned, his voice steady but low, “you should not have come here.”
Wickham's eyes glinted with malice as he took a menacing step forward, his grip tightening on the knife. “You think you can protect her, Darcy? You have no idea how far I am willing to go. Your aunt wants to meet your new bride and told me it matters not in what condition she arrives. Earlier, I asked you to give me Georgiana in place of your wife, but since you refused, I must do as your aunt wished and take your bride. She promised to pay me well.”
Elizabeth's breath hitched as she felt the tension crackle in the air. She clutched Darcy's tailcoat, seeking comfort but also recognising the threat. Darcy's jaw clenched, and he instinctively raised his arm towards the pocket where his pistol was concealed, his gaze locked on Wickham the entire time.
“Stay back, Wickham,” he warned, his voice firm. “You are outmatched, and you know it. Even with a knife, you are no match for me. Lady Catherine is no longer at Rosings and cannot pay you what she promised, although I doubt she would have done so regardless of what she said.”
