Page 107 of The Crown’s Gift

He understood and remained still.

Outside, one constable reached the stone steps. Lydia crouched behind the balustrade. Wickham could no longer see the terrace in the mirror because his own body blocked it.

Elizabeth moved her hand toward the bell pull.

Wickham saw the motion and turned. She seized the heavy estate ledger from the table and flung it at his pistol arm. The shot struck the ceiling. Darcy crossed the room before plaster reached the carpet.

He drove Wickham against the table and caught his wrist in both hands. Bingley pulled Jane and Georgiana behind the sofa. Sir Thomas kicked the pistol beneath a cabinet as the constables burst through the terrace doors.

Wickham fought until the guard he had injured during his escape, who had followed the constables inside, locked a second iron around his free wrist.

"You should have run toward the coast," Sir Thomas said, breathing hard.

Wickham looked at Elizabeth. "You think this family will survive her evidence?"

Georgiana stepped from behind the sofa. "We will survive whatever is true."

That answer ended the power he had expected shame to give him.

Lady Bennet entered as soon as the pistol was removed. She embraced every daughter within reach, scolded Sir Thomas for standing near armed men again, and demanded that the constables wipe their boots before taking Wickham through the front hall.

Lydia returned from the terrace with mud to her knees. Sir Thomas looked at the daughter who had disobeyed him and brought the constables in time.

"You left the servants as I expressly forbade."

"There was no groom, Papa."

"You might have been seen."

"I stayed beneath the hedge. Miss Harwood taught us."

Sir Thomas closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, fear and pride occupied the same expression.

"We shall discuss obedience tomorrow. Tonight, you did a brave and useful thing."

Lydia's chin trembled. She threw her arms around him.

Darcy found Elizabeth near the shattered patch of ceiling. He took her hands and checked them for injury.

"I saw the constables in the glass," she said. "I needed him to turn."

"You trusted me to understand."

"You did."

His grip tightened once, then gentled. Around them the family spoke, wept, argued, and refused to hide.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Last Evening

Nine days after Wickham's recapture, Netherfield quieted for the final night before Elizabeth's wedding. She had slept badly at first and still startled when a door struck hard against its frame, but the household no longer organized itself around fear. Georgiana had given her statement without concealment. Lydia had accepted a week's confinement with unusual grace after Sir Thomas admitted, just as plainly, that her courage helped save them.

Netherfield had quieted after midnight. The guests were settled. Her gown hung behind a screen. The Queen's locket lay in its box. Jane slept in the adjoining room by choice, returning for one night to the sister she had once shared it with.

Elizabeth listened to the wind and thought of every threshold before her.

At last she put on a dressing gown and went downstairs.