Grabbing up the flask as he suggested, she stilled when she noticed him standing, unmoving nearby.
Eyes flitting over her, he questioned, “Are you hurt? Your injuries have been healing well, but?”
“I am well,” she assured him, his gaze lowering to her arm causing her to add, “It is nearly healed, I promise.”
Nodding, his face eased, “Then it is time to leave.”
Sliding a flintlock pistol into his breeches, a knife already present, he grabbed up ammunition and a powder horn before loading the two sacks over his shoulder, Mary reaching out to take one of them as he did.
“I can carry the light one at least,” she said gravely, her eyes flicking up to a small trail of blood moving down his face. “Let me help.”
Holding the lighter bag out to her without question, his eyes crinkled fondly, “You never cease to amaze me Miss Mary Bennet…” shaking his head he motioned toward the door, “Come. We have lingered too long.”
“Do you think Ian has men coming as Timothy claimed?” she asked as he stilled at the small window by the door.
Lips pulling, he nodded, “Unfortunately, yes….” The sound of a carriage rattling over uneven ground completing his thought, his hand reached toward the pistol he had only just tucked away.
The hair on her arms rising, Mary scanned the room–there was no other door.
Turning back to Richard, she awaited his instruction.Surely, he would know what to do.
“Come,” he whispered softly as he opened the door, the carriage having pulled around the left side.
Moving as deftly as she might, she followed him around the right side of the building, her breath tight as fear mingled in her heart and mind.
She had to be silent. What if she stepped on something? Made a noise and managed to get them both killed? Who knew how many men had come… and they would release the others. And Ian… he would punish them. Horribly.
Her once tight breath threatening to come in unchecked waves, she fixed her attention to the man in front of her.
He would see them through this. A colonel, remember that, a colonel has surely been in worse predicaments.Her breath easing, a new fear arose,But never did he have a woman on his heels; one who spent her life in quiet comfort.
Following him into the woods, the scent of pine filling her senses, their pace quickening as they allowed some distance between them and their captors. In that moment Mary chose bravery instead of fear, promising herself that she would not be a hindrance, but a help. Yet, as the sounds of angry voices rose from where they had come and the pair began to run, all rational thought flew from her mind, the beating of her heart and the slapping of branches against her face enveloping her as she forced her legs to move faster than ever before.
Chapter 9
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire
Walking in the field opposite Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth enjoyed a few moments of blissful ignorance to the trouble presently afflicting her family–leastwise, she feigned such ignorance as she conversed with Charlotte.
“Lord Lightcliffe and Mr. Bingley do not seem to get along,” Elizabeth remarked to her friend. “Or, rather, Mr. Bingley did not take to Lord Lightcliffe in the slightest–Lord Lightcliffe appeared more indifferent than anything.”
“And why is that?” Charlotte asked. “Mr. Bingley has always struck me as an amiable sort of fellow.”
“It is Jane, I think. She has told me of her respect for Mr. Bingley, thinking him eloquent, fine, dashing–just as a gentleman ought to be–and indeed, I think her heart is well on the way to loving him…” words trailing off, Elizabeth sighed, her usual wit a muddle.
“But?” Charlotte prompted, her lips turning upward, “Perhaps Lord Lightcliffe possesses similar qualities?”
Nodding Elizabeth agreed, “He does. He is charming. Handsome. And I suspect as wealthy as Mr. Bingley, with a title added to his many qualities. No. He is a good man, and I saythat though I am no longer convinced of my ability to ‘sketch a character in but an hour.’ It is merely… Jane is not usually inconstant, yet, even I noticed how her attention moved readily to Lord Lightcliffe. True, I do believe it was the reaction of Mr. Bingley which caused her shift, therefore inconstant is too harsh a term. For Jane has never approved of jealousy, saying how it never looks well on anyone. She feels it is doubting the love of the one you love, and while I do see her point, and a propensity to jealousy I never could abide; but we all are jealous of something at some point are we not?”
“That is true, though I can see Jane’s view as well. The problem in this instance is Jane is not as open with her feelings as Mr. Bingley is–she may not mean to hide them, but her modesty gives such an impression. If he is doubtful of her regard, her opinion that it displays a sign of nontrust is well… not valid. True, jealousy, especially when displayed as readily as it sounds as it was, is. Oh, what is the word I am searching for? Disquieting. Yes, disquieting. At least it is to Jane, and we must honour that. She is no simpleton.”
Head turning toward the direction of Netherfield, Elizabeth sighed, “I only hope that, whatever happens, Jane is made happy–she deserves no less.”
“That she does. Now then, why are you not at Netherfield already? Do you not meet Mr. Darcy there about this time every day?” Charlotte smirked as she lifted her hand toward Netherfield. “You will never be settled until you have seen him.”
Gnawing her lip, Elizabeth considered Mr. Darcy’s displeasure if she were to go alone.He had promised to retrieve her from Longbourn only a little later in the day. But what of Mary?she warred with herself.Is not her safety more important? Arriving at Netherfield without Darcy having to make the journey wouldsave time, and allow them to work with the gentlemen he had brought in. She would be safe enough, surely. Besides, once Darcy knew she had walked to Lucas Lodge alone, he would be equally cross.
She could only incur his anger once.
