The sharp scent of gunpowder hung in the air.
Elizabeth violently pulled her arms out of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s grasp and her eyes started widening with a sort of horror. Darcy was not sure if it was because she had shot the gun, or because she had missed.
Lord Rochester stared at her. He seemed wholly shocked. The earl took a tottering step towards Elizabeth.
“Not another move.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice had a shrill carrying tone to it. He used an odd way of speaking that Darcy thought could be heard over a great distance. “I’ve seen enough of bloodshed in Spain and India. I don’t want to see more when I’m only five minutes’ walk from my aunt’s house. I will knock you about the head if you come another step closer. Same for all of you bloody whoresons. A step out of line, and I’ll have each of you hung.” Colonel Fitzwilliam had a tone to his voice that Darcy was sure was the sound he used in the battle line. “No more shooting. Lady Elizabeth shall not be made to return tonight with you, Lord Rochester, and by God her wish shall be respected. Miss Elizabeth, if you’ve another gun, keep your hands away from it. No shooting. Not from anyone.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s soldier-servant had his own gun in his hand, but it was pointed at the ground.
Darcy’s carriage at last clattered up the avenue. His coachman and valet sat next to each other in the box, whiletwo postillions rode the horses, and one of his own manservants stood on the ledge at the back of the carriage.
Lanterns swung from all corners of the carriage, and another oil light was shining inside of it.
Elizabeth’s breath came in pants.
The tension that had taken Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to leave him as easily as if it had never been there. He laughed. “Fine gun, Lady Elizabeth, and fine aim. Fine stance.”
Wide eyes at Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth stuttered, “P-p-papa taught me.”
Both Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced towards Lord Rochester, but it was evident that she did not refer to that gentleman. Darcy could not decide if he had been cowed by Colonel Fitzwilliam, frightened by his near brush with death, or was in the process of preparing to shout more demands.
Darcy did not care.
He lightly touched Elizabeth’s shoulder, “My Lady, do you wish conveyance to your father’s house?”
That was enough for her. She turned to him and a breathtaking smile went across her face. “He is. He truly is.” She looked at the empty gun as though she did not know what to do with it, and then she stuffed it into Darcy’s hand.
Darcy helped her up into the carriage, and he stepped in after her.
Colonel Fitzwilliam climbed, while shouting down at his man, “Meet me in London, by stage.”
Lady Catherine frowned, but she also made no orders nor shouts.
“Can I come,” Lord Hartley stood by the step to the carriage, looking decidedly uncertain. “I do not know if...if I am welcome. Elizabeth, I would like—”
Elizabeth stared at Lord Hartley, she still had that startled expression, as though she could not quite understand what was happening around her.
“Elizabeth, you do not need to let him come, but he is your brother, and he has always been a dear friend of mine,” Darcy said, “and he felt your supposed death deeply.”
Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, “I would be glad to know you.”
Lord Hartley climbed into the carriage, the three gentlemen and one small lady making the whole rather crowded. Elizabeth’s leg was pressed against Darcy’s, and it was impossible for him to not notice that.
The horses set off.
Elizabeth stared out the window intently, her eyes never left where Lord Rochester and those around him stood. She gripped Darcy’s hand so tight that it hurt. The young woman had an astonishing strength, in her fingers and in her character.
When they turned a corner, and the group of footmen led by Lady Catherine and Lord Rochester was no longer visible, Elizabeth shivered and lay her head against the back of the seat cushion.
Elizabeth’s eyes had something wild in them. Darcy wished to put his arm around her, and embrace her properly, but his cousin and Lord Hartley’s presence reminded him that he had no right.
Her hands shook. “I shot him. I shot at him. I can’t believe I actually shot at him.”
“As the bullet did not find its target,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “no harm done.”
“Lord, yes!” Hartley exclaimed. His voice had great agitation in it as well. “I imagine he never thought you might do such a thing, even when you had the gun pointed at him. I nevercould have. I’ve imagined shooting the old man a hundred times if it was once.”
“I was so scared.” Elizabeth’s wide eyes stared into Darcy’s; her face was so close. She was lit by the swinging oil lantern. The last light of dusk was gone. ”I shouldn’t have done that.”
