One brother brandished a wicked-looking knife. “But you do have a say in asking your colonel for leave to marry your sweetheart and the mother of your child.”
Wickham had left several of his get behind him, with far less care than he’d taken in seducing their mothers. What was one more? “Colonel Forster will not grant it. We are to move to our next encampment soon, and there is too much for the officers to do. Perhaps once we are settled this summer, I will be able to return for…?” Blast, he couldn’t even remember her name.
Several more knives were produced. “In that case, you’re welcome to pay our sister off. Three thousand pounds, enough to set her up as a respectable young widow. Or we’d be happy to deliver her your body, as her poor departed husband.”
Wickham broke into a cold sweat. “I don’t have that money, but I know someone you can get that sum from with little inconvenience.”
Wickham knew that Darcy always visited Rosings at Easter, playing the dutiful nephew by attending to all those estatematters that the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh thought were beneath her notice. Darcy had more than enough blunt to pay a ransom to satisfy the smugglers, and why should Wickham not point them Darcy’s way? Darcy had been cleaning up after Wickham since they were boys. Even then, he had used Darcy’s name to run up debts at sweet shops.
He could send these thugs to Kent to give Darcy a fright, perhaps rough him up a bit, and be on their way with the cash before the sun set.
Elizabeth had claimed a headache to avoid seeing MrDarcy (at least until she had her anger under better regulation) or paying homage to Rosings Park and the Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Despite MrCollins offering her excuses, likely at great length, the gentleman appeared anyway! Elizabeth called for tea like a dutiful hostess and regretted that there was no polite way to send him away before a quarter of an hour passed.
If her headache had been a lie before, watching MrDarcy was dizzying enough that it threatened to give her a headache in truth. He sat, he stood, he paced. He looked as if he would speak, then lapsed into his characteristic silence. It was enough to drive any reasonable woman mad!
Finally, he stopped. “Miss Bennet, in vain I have struggled. You must—”
What Elizabeth must do was to remain a mystery, for at that moment the door to the parsonage burst open, and masked brigands rushed in.
Elizabeth had no time to scream before a sack was thrown over her head. There was the sound of punches being thrown, and someone staggered into her, making her fall, and rendering her insensible.
Elizabeth woke to the creaking of wooden boards and the cry of gulls.
Gulls and the smell of saltwater…in Kent? Well, parts of Kent bordered the sea. Still, Lady Catherine had been proud of travelling to the seaside when she felt the inclination, and Rosings Park was landlocked. Wherever she was, it was no longer Hunsford but on a boat. Smugglers, perhaps? It had all been much less terrifying in the novels she and Jane had giggled over in their schoolroom years.
A coarse sack covered her head, and her hands were bound. Elizabeth groaned.
Strong hands eased her into a seated position and eased the sack from her head. “There you are, miss. If nature calls, you’ll not be going anywhere alone,” said the woman.
The throbbing ache in her head turned to blinding pain when she tried to open her eyes. How could the fading light of evening hurt so much?
At least a woman attended her if Elizabeth required a discreet moment. And it was a necessity; she must have been unconscious for some hours. Elizabeth swallowed her fear, for it would not help her. “Yes, please.”
A deep, masculine groan from nearby alerted her that she was not alone. MrDarcy? Could he have been the kidnappers’ target? His fortune made him more likely than Elizabeth. She tried to open her eyes again, this time with more success.
A woman about her own age knelt beside her, empty chamber pot in hand. Her face was thin, her hair swept under a maid’s cap, hiding its colour. Her eyes seemed kind, though on a ship full of men of unknown intent, what that signified was unknown. The strange woman set the chamber pot on the deck and lifted Elizabeth above it, arranging her gown around her to createa pretence of dignity and privacy. Elizabeth was mortified to have to relieve herself so close to a stranger—worse in the same vicinity as MrDarcy. But needs must.
Once that humiliation was over, Elizabeth returned to her original position on the floor while the woman left to empty the pot.
Heavy footsteps approached. Elizabeth lay still, keeping her eyes closed. There was the sound of impact, and a grunt of pain. A man with a coarse accent spoke. “Wake up, my fine fellow. We sail soon, and where you disembark depends on you.”
MrDarcy’s tone was grim, an understandable sentiment, given the circumstances. “What do you want?”
The man replied, “Your friend MrWickham told us that you’d pay the debt he owes. We would have been happy to collect from his corpse, but you’re rather more substantial than we’d get from the anatomists, if you take my meaning.”
MrDarcy groaned again. “What the deuce has he done now?”
The man chuckled. “Well, that’s proof enough that you know the bastard who left our sister with child. We figure three thousand pounds will even the score.”
Elizabeth could not help gasping, then immediately groaned. Headaches were no respecters of emotional upheaval. Opening her eyes improved this time, but her bound hands made it difficult to clutch her head.
MrDarcy reminded her of a beached harbour seal Elizabeth had seen once whilst on a visit to Lyme with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, as he tried to manoeuvre himself into a position to see her properly. His face was bruised, and he winced whenever he braced himself on his left arm. “Elizabeth! Are you well?”
The impropriety of addressing her by her Christian name paled in comparison to the indelicacies she had already suffered.
Their captor looked at her. “We’ve no quarrel with you, miss. But it doesn’t do to leave witnesses to raise an alarm.”
MrDarcy exclaimed, “I can swear to you now, you will receive not a ha’penny if you hurt her.”
