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Instantly, the innocent young woman disappeared as a cold and calculated expression swept over her face. In a deft move, she produced a pistol from her reticule and pointed it at Darcy with a steadiness that suggested she knew how to use it. He froze. How often can I be threatened with pistols in one day?
“You have a pistol, too?” Lydia wailed. “Everyone has a pistol except me!”
“The boat is departed,” Darcy said to Mrs. Forster. “You cannot escape now.”
“How unfortunate for you,” she sneered. “Since I am condemned to this benighted island, it is imperative that nobody reveal my true identity.” She would kill me and Lydia without any compunction.
Mrs. Forster gestured for Darcy to raise his hands, and he obliged, silently fuming at himself that he had not previously identified her as the traitor. If the realization had arrived even seconds earlier, he might have captured her.
She shook her head in a parody of sympathy. “What a waste. Mr. Darcy, such a handsome man. So unfortunate that he was shot by smugglers in Brighton.”
“There are smugglers?” Lydia gasped, looking about with wide eyes.
Mrs. Forster smirked at Darcy. “She is so delightfully dull it is almost a shame I must shoot her as well. But there is a chance—well, a remote chance—she might accurately report on today’s events.”
“Who are you shooting, Mary?” Lydia asked.
The other woman gestured to Lydia with the pistol. “Go and stand beside him.” As Lydia edged closer to Darcy, he could not help noticing that they were conveniently positioned at the very end of the pier, where their bodies would simply fall into the water. Well, I will not have long to mourn Elizabeth.
But he did not want this evil woman to triumph. Desperately, Darcy thought about any way he could distract or delay her. “Are you the one who killed Mr. Denny?” he asked.
A brief expression of regret passed over her face. “When he discovered my ‘activities,’ I offered him the opportunity to join our band and make his fortune, but the fool declined. Wickham was supposed to do the deed, but he grew too squeamish at the last minute.” Darcy found it less than reassuring to know she had murdered one man already.
Lydia gasped audibly, finally comprehending the gravity of their circumstances. “You can’t shoot me, Mary! I’m your friend. I lent you my bonnet!”
Ignoring the other woman, Mrs. Forster shook her head, and her expression turned steely. “Enough talk. I should take my leave.” She aimed the pistol right at Darcy’s heart.
***
With Harrison and Wickham rowing rapidly, the boat quickly pulled away from the pier, which was soon lost to sight. As the sound of William’s voice was swallowed by the fog, Elizabeth tried not to imagine the agony he was experiencing. Instead, she focused on implementing her plan, thankful that the two men had their backs to her.
Fortunately, she had worn a front-lacing dress, so she could untie her own laces and draw the overdress over her head, leaving her in the shift underneath. Keeping her feet tucked under the hem of the skirt, she then unbuckled and removed her half boots. The bonnet was one of her favorites, and she laid it on the bottom of the boat with a pang of regret.
Now she was ready. She gathered her feet underneath her, preparing to jump before the boat was too far from the pier. Once she was in the water, the two men were unlikely to waste time searching for her, assuming she would drown. Elizabeth just prayed that assumption would be wrong. She had never swum such a long distance.
Just as she was about to plunge off the side of the boat, Mr. Wickham turned and noticed her. “What the hell? Damnation, woman—!” He reached out—rather unwisely in Elizabeth’s opinion—with an oar in a vain attempt to keep her seated in the prow. At the sound of Wickham’s voice, Harrison whirled around, smacking his oar into the other man’s jaw.
Elizabeth did not hesitate. She jumped only seconds before the momentum of the blow propelled Wickham into the water. The impact of two bodies falling over the same side of the boat immediately caused it to capsize.
Get away! Get away! Get away! Elizabeth swam as fast as she could under the water, putting as much distance between herself and the boat as possible.
She surfaced only when her lungs were screaming for air. Already she was far enough away that the boat was a dim shape in the fog. The silhouette told her it was upside down in the water while two dark figures clung to it, yelling profanities. Elizabeth was relieved that neither man had drowned.
“I cannot swim! I cannot swim!” Harrison cried out again and again.
“And you suppose I can?” Wickham shouted.
The frantic sounds of splashing were followed by Wickham’s voice. “Where is she? Where’s the hellcat? I will shoot her the instant I see her!” In the dim light his head moved back and forth, scanning the water, although he never looked in the right direction.
“You idiot!” Harrison screamed. “Wet gunpowder won’t work. Help me right the boat!”
Elizabeth did not wait to hear more. It was sufficient to know that they would not pursue her. She turned toward the faint pinpricks of lantern light that led her to Brighton. It seemed dreadfully far. Farther than she had ever swum before.
William is waiting for me. Taking a deep breath and saying a prayer, she started to swim.
***
At this range, there was no way Mrs. Forster’s bullet could possibly miss striking Darcy. Her finger curved around the trigger. Watching the tiniest movements of her hand, Darcy prepared himself to jump. If he launched himself at Lydia at just the right moment, he could knock them both off the pier and into the water before the gun fired. At least that was his hope. Once they were in the water, the dim light and fog would prevent Mrs. Forster from finding and shooting them. It was a feeble plan, Darcy knew, but he refused to surrender to despair.
