Cathy groaned. “I left them in my room for safekeeping.”
“We cannot be really locked in! The servants’ passage,” Miss Denham cried, tugging Mr. Parker’s hand as she led him to the small doorway at the back of the room.
Mr. Crawford assisted Mrs. Rushworth to her feet as Lady Susan laughingly pushed past him to hasten into the narrow corridor where the servants decanted the wine. Mr. Crawford steadied Mrs. Rushworth, then gestured angrily, “He means to frame me! The devious bastard!”
“He means to escape,” Elizabeth said. She looked over at her uncle. “Was he not with you when you constructed the raft with Sir Walter?”
“Yes, and Mr. Parker, too,” Sir Edward replied gravely.
“Can you not see this is proof of Henry’s innocence? Tom wished to set him up, because he does not approve of us being together,” Mrs. Rushworth cried.
“We can see that, but he is getting away!” Emma made a flippant gesture at the desperate widow before pursuing her aunt through the servants’ passage. Harriet and Lady Allen hastily followed.
Elizabeth reluctantly released Mr. Darcy’s hand and began examining the window latch. It was rusty and required a little finesse, but she managed to open the panes and she peered down, wincing at the sight of the moat. Mr. Darcy rested a hand on her shoulder, and leaned further out the window. “We have a clear shot if they make for the raft to escape.”
“That is surely what they intend. I presume all the gentlemen are armed?”
“I should think so,” he said before calling after the rest of their party. “Listen, we need not pursue Mr. Bertram. He intends – and I daresay Miss Denham and Mr. Parker have the same idea – to escape on Sir Walter’s raft.”
Cathy gasped. “Can we stop them?”
Mr. Darcy and Sir Edward drew their pistols, and Mr. Tilney gave a nod of understanding as he unlatched the other window. “Miss Morland, would you please go after the others, and bring them back here? If we must shoot, it would not do for them to be in harm’s way.”
“Of course,” she said, and hastened in pursuit of their companions, calling out for them to return.
Elizabeth stepped away from the window, making way for Mr. Willoughby to take her place beside Mr. Darcy. Both men were ready to shoot, and Sir Edward and Mr. Tilney took aim out of the other window.
“Oh no, you cannot mean to shoot him,” Mrs. Rushworth wailed, still clinging to her lover. “Please! He is still my brother!”
Elizabeth gaped at her. “But he killed your husband and wished to incriminate your… Mr. Crawford. We cannot let him escape!”
Mr. Crawford released his lady from an embrace and moved to the table, which was in disarray with the fallen chandelier in the middle of it. He picked up a large candlestick and tested its weight, then gestured to the window. “The raft is down there?”
Mr. Willoughby stepped aside to afford the other man a glimpse down at the raft. “Do you think to simply throw things at them?”
Mr. Crawford gazed out the window, his arm mimicking a throw as if testing to see what distance he might launch it. “Perhaps. If we shoot them, we are killers, too. It may be better to incapacitate them and lock them up with Sir Walter.”
“I agree,” Mr. Darcy said. “We need not shoot to kill.”
“You could shoot at the raft,” Mrs. Rushworth said. “Quickly, before they reach it. Put a few holes in it, and it will not float.”
“We may need it,” Elizabeth said. “We cannot know when we might get free of this place. Those of us who can be trusted ought to go for help, instead of waiting for rescue to come to us.”
Mr. Tilney turned sharply toward the window. “Here they come. What is our plan? We have but a moment.”
Mr. Crawford hurled the candlestick and then turned and grabbed another one off the table before doing the same. There was a loud grunt from down by the moat, and Elizabeth took a few steps toward the window to see the silhouette of a woman toppling into the muck along the edge of the water.
Elizabeth studied his form as Mr. Crawford hurled a large brass vase of flowers out the window, and it landed at one of the feet of one of the fleeing fugitives. Feeling a rush of confidence, she seized another candlestick off the table, imagining herself a spear-wielding warrior, and she hurled it at one of the shadowed figure pushing the raft into the water. The candlestick stuck him in the chest and he toppled backward into Miss Denham, who screeched.
The other man had made it onto the raft, and had some object in hand to use as an oar. “He is getting away,” Sir Edward said. He and Mr. Tilney fired their weapons, and Mrs. Rushworth screamed.
“Please, no!”
“I shot afoul; a warning shot,” Mr. Tilney told her.
“I did not,” Sir Edward said gruffly. He fired again and then smiled grimly. “Double barreled flintlock.”
“I think you struck the raft,” Mr. Darcy groaned. Elizabeth watched as the barrels lashed together began to teeter in the glimmering water. He lowered his weapon and gestured for Mr. Willoughby to do the same. “We ought to save our shots, if we can apprehend them.”
