Mr. Crawford scanned the room for something else to throw, and Elizabeth handed him another large vase. He took aim and pitched it out the window, and let out a happy cry as it struck the man on the raft, and damaged one of the floating casks.
The makeshift raft began to list, one corner already submerged in the murky water. The man atop it doubled over in pain at the blows of the debris Mr. Crawford continued to pelt him with, sending anything he could get his hands on in a strange barrage.
And then another shot rang out; the man on the raft shot back at them. Mr. Darcy cried out just as a mirror at the other side of the room shattered. Elizabeth turned to him in horror and raised her fingers to the hole in the sleeve of his jacket. There was a thin line of blood on his exposed arm, and she let out a heavy breath of shock and relief.
Cathy and the other ladies returned to the dining room in a noisy cluster of shouting and confusion. Elizabeth took a napkin from the table and brought it to the sideboard, where she doused a section of it in brandy before returning to Mr. Darcy. She dabbed the cloth over his wound, wiping the blood away to reveal a shallow gash.
He laid a hand atop hers. “The bullet only grazed me; ‘tis but a scratch.”
“I almost lost you,” she said.
“And you mean to save me.” He smiled as she tended to him. “It is a shame about this coat; it smells like you.”
The other ladies were worked into a frantic state, demanding to know what was to be done, and the gentlemen agreed to go down and retrieve the fugitives. Mr. Darcy led the way, and the other gentlemen followed him through the servants’ passage. Elizabeth and the other ladies gathered at the windows, all of them armed with objects to throw at the people incapacitated people below, should they make any further attempt to escape.
A few minutes later, they watched as the five heroic gentlemen exited the castle and made swift work of apprehending the lady and one of the men – it appeared to be the lanky form of Mr. Parker they hauled out of the muck and bound with rope.
Which meant that it was Mr. Bertram who was grappling to stay afloat on the sinking raft that had scarcely made it halfway across the moat. He shouted at them all, cursing wildly. Beside Elizabeth, Cathy giggled.
Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed on Mr. Darcy, whom she easily recognized amongst the others. He knotted some rope and sent it arcing through the air, a wide loop at the end of it. She clapped her hands together as the rope encircled Mr. Bertram, and Mr. Darcy began tugging the man back toward the castle.
The ladies went down through the servants’ passage and met the gentlemen in the corridor as they hauled in their fugitives, two battered and bloody, and the other bleeding fromhis shoulder and thoroughly drenched in frigid, stinking water. They were all bound with their arms behind their back.
“Your attempt to flee is as good as an admission of guilt,” Mr. Crawford taunted as he shoved Mr. Bertram forward.
“And, as it happens, wedidread of your crimes,” Cathy said as Sir Edward and Mr. Tilney hauled Mr. Parker along.
Mr. Tilney grinned wickedly. “Of course we have. You have embezzled from your brother, and there is convincing evidence that you helped Miss Denham in the attempted murder of her aunt, who died a few months later after leaving her everything. I believe my royal guests would be fascinated to hear all about it.”
“Are they really coming?” Lady Susan crossed her arms and looked cheerfully skeptical.
At the same moment, Mrs. Rushworth asked, “What will you do with them?”
“We locked Sir Walter in a small, windowless room, still bound at the wrist and ankles. We will do the same with them, until help arrives or can be sought,” Mr. Darcy said. “The raft is destroyed, but if the royals do not arrive tomorrow, we shall make one of our own and go for help.”
“I do indeed expect them,” Mr. Tilney said. “We must await their aid and judgement.”
Everyone agreed this was the wisest course of action, and even Lady Susan refrained from inciting any further chaos as the three miscreants were locked away. Mr. Tilney retrieved the keys from Mr. Bertram, and declared they might return to the dining room and have their dinner at last.
“There is much to celebrate, now that we are quite safe,” Lady Allen said, looking from Sir Edward to her nephew with an affectionate smile.
“My father and brother are dead, and so is Mrs. Rushworth’s husband,” Mr. Tilney reminded her. “However, I am famished.”
They returned to the dining room, and Mr. Tilney unlocked the door, but came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, dear. There is the small matter of the giant chandelier on my table. It makes quite the centerpiece, does it not?”
Cathy stepped into the room beside him. “Well, it has made a disarray of four places at the table, and we have just reduced the size of our party by that same number. ‘Tis a little dark in here since we have thrown away half the candles, but I daresay we can manage.”
“I am terribly famished, too,” Emma said. She took a tentative step forward, brushed some debris away from her place setting, and took a seat, gesturing for the others to join her.
Elizabeth laughed and sat at Emma’s side. “It is not the strangest thing that has happened at Clwyd Castle.”
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning dawned bright and clear, as if the week of stormy weather had never been. Elizabeth gazed out the parlor window, at liberty to do so in her dressing gown since the gentlemen had taken up their previous guest rooms. Cathy joined her in gazing out at the golden trees, the landscape so idyllic when lit by the sun that it was nearly as if the horrors of the last week had all been some fever dream. Even the moat seemed tranquil and bucolic.
Cathy watched as Elizabeth tipped her head down to gaze at the still water below. “Not so frightening now, is it, Lizzy?”
“No,” Elizabeth mused with a wry smile. “Having seen Mr. Bertram caterwauling on the sinking raft, and then lassoed off of it, I cannot but laugh when I look at the moat.”
