“And which house do you serve, ma’am? Perhaps I may apply at a neighboring residence, and then we might see one another.”
The girl giggled and preened beneath his attention as she described her position at Darcy House. He remained at her side and did not leave her until she had completed her shopping and taken her leave of him.
He bowed low. “When I have secured a position, I shall call upon you to let you know how I go on. Would you permit, ma’am?”
The servant beamed. “Yes, Mr. Peters. I should like that very much.”
She hurried away, and he stood watching her. His plan was beginning to take shape. It would not be long now. Soon, he would be part of the family, and he would secure a considerable dowry. His eyes narrowed. The child was not ill-favored either. When she was a little older and had acquired a little more figure, he imagined she would become a handsome woman.
Wickham watched the house for three more days before he saw his opportunity. He observed Darcy hand his wife into the carriage before entering it himself. Both were in full ball dress. Georgiana would be alone in the house.
He crept around the back and scaled the stone wall, dropping into the garden below. Remaining crouched where he landed, he listened. There was no sound. He had alerted no servant. He moved along the thick hedges until he reached the shadowed side yard. Crossing the lawn, he kept close to the deep shadows cast by the house.
At last, he came to the library doors. Unlocked. He would not need to gain entrance through the kitchens or make use of the little servant girl he had cultivated.
He slipped into the darkened room and waited for his eyes to adjust. Then he moved carefully toward the door, taking care not to overturn anything. When he reached it, he opened it slightly and listened for the movement of servants.
The hall stood empty. At this hour, most of the servants would be below stairs in the kitchens taking their meal.
He found the servants’ stair and crept up to the second floor, wondering which chamber belonged to the child. She would soon come down for dinner unless it was being served upon a tray in her room. He was in a quandary. How was he to find Georgiana?
Still, he was not pressed for time. The Darcys would remain at the ball long past midnight. He had ample time to search for the girl and take her.
He crept to the first door and turned the brass knob. The latch yielded easily. He opened the door just wide enough to peer inside and survey the room. A guest chamber. He could tell by the lack of personal effects.
He moved quickly then, passing from room to room along the corridor. All stood unused by the family. He searched another wing of the house, and upon entering the second bedchamber there, he realized he had found the girl’s room. A connecting door stood ajar. Her private parlor.
The bedchamber was empty. She must be in the parlor, preparing to take her dinner there.
Her personal maid would be below stairs with the other servants at dinner. He would take the girl only after the dinner tray had been brought up, lest the servant notice her absence and sound the alarm.
He would throttle the child, and when she had swooned, he would carry her down the servants’ stair. His eyes gleamed. Soon, he would command a tidy fortune of forty thousand pounds. His days of living hand to mouth would be over.
For several minutes, he surveyed the room. As his eyes adjusted to the deep darkness of the bedchamber, he distinguished the large four-poster bed, the pair of chairs beside the hearth, and the small writing desk near the window.
He crossed to the window and drew back the heavy drape. The embrasure was deep, and the cushion thick. He settled himself upon it to wait.
Georgiana sat beside the hearth in her private parlor with a book resting upon her lap. Fitzwilliam and Lizzy were not expected home before three. She would hear all about the ball tomorrow. And about Lord Dunwich.
A gentle tap sounded at the door, and then her maid entered with the dinner tray. Jenny set the table and then asked, “Is there anything further, Miss Darcy?”
“No, Jenny. You may go to your dinner. I shall retire early tonight. Return to me at nine.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Georgiana sat down to eat. She was halfway through her meal when she heard the connecting door open. Turning, she started, and the fork slipped from her fingers and clattered against the plate.
George Wickham was standing at the threshold.
He smirked. “Well, well, my girl. At last, I have you in my power. Your brother is gone. The servants are below stairs. There is no one to save you this time.”
Georgiana stared at him, paralyzed. Fear held her pinned to the chair as she watched him draw nearer.
He spoke again. “This time, my pretty, you shall not escape me. I am going to throttle you until you swoon, and then I shall carry you away. Once you are thoroughly ruined, your brother will beg me to marry you. I shall command your dowry. We will live upon one of the lesser estates, and at last I shall be one of the family.”
She heard his voice. She saw his mouth moving, yet his words clashed within her mind. Her vision blurred. She could scarcely comprehend what he was saying as her sight narrowed into a dark tunnel. All she could think was no, no, no. How could this be happening to her?
Several moments passed before one dreadful truth emerged through the confusion and terror: he intended to throttle her. But her mind continued to scream, no, no, no. She battled the rising panic and the swoon that threatened to overtake her. At last, she regained command of her senses. Her vision began to clear. She could hear him distinctly again. Now she understood every word he said.
