“What? Has fear stolen your voice? Are you frightened because Darcy is not here to protect you?”
She heard him laugh. He drew nearer, and something devilish gleamed within his eyes as his gaze swept slowly down her figure.
He meant to assault her unless she could save herself. But what could she do? He was larger, heavier, stronger. There was nothing she could do. Then she remembered. Her thoughts sharpened into focus. The little dagger was concealed within her chignon. Could she use it? Could she draw it quickly enough, or would he wrench it from her hand?
He had said he meant to throttle her. He would need both hands for that. If she drew the dagger and struck at his neck, perhaps she might have a chance. She would have to try. There was nothing else she could do to save herself.
She waited. Beside himself with triumph, he continued describing all the pleasures that awaited him once he commanded her fortune. Closer and closer he came. He seemed to relish her terror and advanced slowly, savoring her fear.
Georgiana rose to meet him. She waited trembling.
Then he lifted his hands and closed them around her throat. His face looked monstrous in the candlelight.
“You belong to me now, little girl.”
She thrust her hand into her hair, tore the dagger free, and struck at his neck. Then she twisted the blade before wrenching it free and flinging it across the room.
He released her throat and clapped a hand to his neck, screaming in pain.
Georgiana feared he would pursue her despite his injury. She did not stop to look back.
She fled. She darted around the table and through the connecting door. She slammed it shut and locked it behind her, then pulled back a heavy tapestry and opened the hidden doorconcealed behind it. Stepping into the darkened stair, she closed and locked the entrance behind her.
She descended the hidden passage one stair at a time. The darkness was so complete she could see nothing. She felt her way downward with both hands pressed against the walls. Down, down, down, until at last she reached the library.
Faint moonlight streamed through the open French doors. This was how Wickham had entered the house. She did not pause to shut them. Instead, she hurried to the far side of the library and felt along the bookcase hidden within the shadows until her fingers found the concealed lever. She worked it, pushed open the secret door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her.
She was safe. Safe from that fiend.
Had he followed her downstairs, or had she killed him?
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned and felt her way along the wall until she collided with a dresser. There she found a candle and the tinderbox. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. It took several attempts, but at last she managed to light the three candles.
Then she looked around her. She would be trapped for hours, alone in this dark room. But at least she was safe. Would Fitzwilliam remember where to find her? If he did not come for her, how would she know when it was safe to emerge? She had not brought her watch.
She decided to unfold the cot and make up the bed. When the bed was prepared, she removed her stays and then drew her gown back on. She was more comfortable now.
She crawled into the cot and fell into a deep sleep. The sleep of utter exhaustion. The sleep of nerves shattered by terror.
Chapter 49: Justice
The house was in an uproar when the Darcys arrived at Darcy House. Both Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Nichols awaited them in the hall. Their countenances were so grim that Elizabeth’s hand flew to her breast to still her stuttering heart.
Darcy spoke at once. “What is it? Has Georgiana fallen ill?”
Mrs. Nichols burst into tears, but Higgins answered plainly. “Sir, we found Mr. Wickham collapsed upon the floor of Miss Georgiana’s parlor. There is blood everywhere, and Miss Georgiana is missing.”
“She is missing? When was the last time she was seen? Bring Jenny down.”
Mrs. Nichols wiped at her eyes. “Jenny carried her dinner tray up to the parlor at half past seven, sir. She then went below stairs for her own dinner. When she returned at nine o’clock, as Miss Georgiana had instructed, she found Mr. Wickham upon the floor and Miss Georgiana gone.”
“Where is Wickham now? Is he refusing to answer questions?”
“He is unconscious, sir. We sent for Doctor Barnes, but he has not yet arrived. Mr. Wickham has lost a great deal of blood. It appears to me, sir, that he may not survive. I set Peter and Robert to apply pressure to the bleeding wound as soon as he was discovered.”
“And you have not located Georgiana?”
Mrs. Nichols held out a hairpin. “We found this in Miss Georgiana’s room, sir. It was lying on the floor on the far side of the chamber.”
