And with that John scurried up the stairs and away, a grinning Miss Mary left in his wake as she held up her hands for Richard’s inspection, a small trickle of blood making its way down her arm.
“I never thought he would do it,” she awed. “We may get out of this yet.”
∞∞∞
Having offered to release him from his bonds, Richard revealed to Miss Mary how he had loosened the hook which held him and, while sorely tempted to accept, he refused her offer at present, thinking it best to wait a day until they hopefully obtained the scissors to use as a weapon, and perhaps food and water enough for the hours or days they might find themselves traveling on foot. Nodding, Miss Mary had viewed his bloodied wrists sadly before agreeing with him–his being found unbound before they were ready to act agreed to be too costly.
“I am sorry,” she frowned, taking up a clean rag from the bucket before moving toward him, her eyes soft. “Yet, if you must remain thus, at least I can see to your wounds. I only wish we could try our escape in the morning rather than wait a day; we each have endured enough at their hands.”
“Please,” he remarked. “See to yourself first… your arm is bleeding again.” Lips thinned as she prepared to argue, he again said, “please,” a light smile and nod assuring him she would tend herself.
“There,” she said at length, her arm cleansed and wrapped along with her wrists. “Only small wounds, but I suppose in a place such as this, one cannot be too careful.” Holding her arm out for inspection, she smiled, “Does this meet with your satisfaction?”
“It does.”
“Then it is your turn,” she remarked, an unhappy tinge to her expression. “I fear it may hurt.”
Gulping as she dabbed at his bloodied wrists as well as the ropes allowed, Richard’s attention shifted from the pain and on to the eyes of the woman before him.If injury and captivity brought him this close to such a woman–a fiery angel–then no small amount of good had come of it. Whether he would choose to endure this all again to meet her remained to be seen, but so far,he thought, his gaze drifting from her eyes to the small knot between them and then momentarily to her pursed lips,the odds seemed very much in her favour.
With a sad smile she finished cleaning his wrists before moving to the few cuts which dotted his face, her eyes enchanting at such close proximity. “It seems we have matching injuries,” she remarked, irony thick in her voice, “first our wrists, and then a multitude of cuts, not to mention the dark patches scatteredabout. It is difficult to believe only a week ago I sat at our pianoforte, working on a new tune in the hopes of impressing Mother, all the while driving my sisters to distraction.”
“Impressing?” he queried as her hand came away, her gaze falling with it.
“Hoping to. With four sisters one seeks out attention or approval where one may. For me, I chose the pianoforte to achieve this with my mother, and in hopes of doing the same with Father, who has a fondness of reading–never novels mind–I chose to memorize some rather tedious volumes.”
“I understand that well. Even with merely myself and my brother, each of us had to find his place. To prove his worth as it were. As a second son, I think I worked at it the hardest. Still,” he teased, “tedious volumes? Why ever did you select those? Even aside from novels, there can be much of interest.”
“I had thought to select books either of a historical nature or guides to places around the world, but having heard of my interest in reading and with my fourteenth birthday on the wings at the time, well, my family–Father included–provided me with a large quantity of books filled with sermons, directives for young ladies, and instructive themes. I had always, and still do, held a strong faith in God, and not every book was sermons, but in that moment I felt as if my family had decided where I was lacking or who I should be, and so I threw myself into them. Often enough that I have, through quotations and sermons passed on, proved beyond any doubt that I made use of their birthday gift.”
Sighing, she frowned, “I always hoped that since Father had a hand in choosing them, by proving I had read them, he might notice me. I fear it has only been recently that I realized this will never be–Elizabeth is the only one of his five daughters hegenuinely admires. My sisters are no doubt pleased that I ceased to quote Fordyce and all the rest. I admit I am rather relieved too, if I am to quote anything, I should rather it be God’s Word or something which resonates instead of things I do not always agree with.” Face flushing, she sat back. “Forgive me, I have rambled on. I would much rather hear about yourself. A second son? No sisters I gather. Any other family to which you are close?”
How could anyone, let alone her father, ignore her? Find her lacking? He certainly could never.Sitting straighter, he carefully laid aside that thought.After all, he barely knew her.
“I have an aunt and three cousins living. Anne is the daughter of my Aunt Catherine; we have been friends since childhood, but I fear we have never been close. She has known much illness, but what has kept us apart is her timidity–her mother is strong-willed and Anne, well, she drops her head to any wind which blows. My other cousins I am closer to, though they have endured much heartache over the years. They lost their parents many years ago and the elder has had to take care of dear Georgie ever since–as have I when I could, for we share guardianship. Yet, I fear even the caring guardianship of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and myself has not been sufficient in all areas. A mother may have done more than two bachelors.”
“Mr. Darcy?” she quizzed when he paused, “Of Pemberley?”
Raising his brows, Richard hid a wince. “You know him?”
Head tilting from side to side, she hummed, “Yes. Well, I would say ‘know of him’ is nearer the truth. When Mr. Bingley came to lease Netherfield Park, Mr. Darcy joined him, as a result, when our local assembly was held, they both attended. He and Mr. Bingley even visited our house the day after, Elizabeth naturally did not find the company agreeable after what happened, but…”
“My cousin has been in the same area you reside?” he interrupted, his mind whirling. “I would ask what dreadful thing my cousin or Mr. Bingley did, if I were not wondering at the connection. Whoever orchestrated this,” he noted, holding up his bound wrists, “has some link that ties us. Since I was taken first, I assume it is my cousin… yet why someone would kidnap an acquaintance of his as well is beyond me. True, he would pay ransom for the pair of us, but kidnapping me should furnish a handsome sum if we do not manage to return before payment is given. Provided, of course, that payment is what they are after.”
“What do you mean?”
“Revenge is always an option. And revenge with a hefty sum added to it could well be enough to seek extra assurance of my cousin’s capitulation. Having his cousinandan innocent woman whom he may feel responsible for their imprisonment, well, that would give someone quite a position.”
“Revenge? Mr. Darcy may have been rude to my sister and a bit unsociable, yet I can hardly believe anyone would dislike him enough for revenge; leastwise, revenge of this nature.”
His blood pulsing, images of Georgiana’s moments of inconsolable tears mingled with one name.Wickham. George Wickham.
“I can think of one man who would go that far,” Richard seethed. “And were it not for the threat of death or deportation such a crime brings, I would not doubt it to be him. His cowardice likely keeping him as far away from this as possible, even if he planned the whole thing himself. Though I can tell you he has no love for me. He may yet risk everything to see to it Darcy and I both suffer–one way or another.”
Silent for some moments, Miss Mary turned her gaze toward the empty stairs. “Well, whether it is this man or not, one thing is for certain, neither of us want to be here should he come. Our plan had better work.”
Chapter 7
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in Hertfordshire
