A pity his friend had proved such a liar,Darcy thought.If his word counted for more, there might not be such risk to their plan. Still, if Bingley were to be believed, Wickham and two other men held Elizabeth and her sister within the ruins up above… and with Lightcliffe, Aldry, and Peters prepared to distract the men inside with gun fire, they all stood a chance.
Eyes narrowing as Bingley came to a halt, the presence of a dark, damp tunnel answered a multitude of questions.So that is how the coward got out.
Fitz’s voice quiet though no less demanding, he motioned with his gun toward a small tree nearby, “Sit… and do not think to cry out. Darcy and I have little patience left.”
Hands fisted, Bingley marched to the tree, his gaze heated as he sat against the bark.
“Cover me,” Fitz said as he laid his weapons on a stone before pulling the coiled rope from his shoulder and walking to the far side of the tree, Darcy happy to oblige.
Within minutes Bingley, bound and gagged, held no danger to them, and for a few moments Darcy felt a surge of sympathy for the man until, his eyes drawing upward, Bingley’s full wickedness returned to mind.Kidnapping, threats, laying blame on others–however guilty they might be in their own right. No. Bingley was far from the friend he had supposed… and that truth had proven more tempestuous and menacing to everyone he cared for than any other. For, at least with Wickham, such truth had been revealed long before the threat had come; and that man’s desire for pleasure trumped his hope of revenge.
Shaking his head as he observed the man one last time, Darcy put Bingley from his mind, the present and what they needed to do instead filling his senses.
Elizabeth needed him now.
Pausing at the entrance of the tunnel, Darcy drew his second pistol while Fitz lit a waiting lantern, a final check behind them and ahead accomplished before they moved inside. Frowning as cold, steady drops of water met his hair and coat, Darcy turned his gaze upward, the dank, stone-lined ceiling appearing entirely unstable. A shiver gripping him as he followed the warm glow of his cousin’s lantern, Darcy’s lips thinned as his ears strained for any sound of gun fire.
Thankful for the silence, they continued to the end of the passage, a set of tottering stone stairs leading upward in a narrow spiral.
Thirty-nine, forty,Darcy silently counted each step as they climbed, his breath catching as they stilled beneath a rotting wooden hatch.
Heart throbbing in his ears, Darcy strained to hear anything above, only the soft thudding of the first drops of rain against the wood his answer.
They simply had to wait and pray everything went to plan,he told himself as he crouched down, a loaded pistol in each hand as he prepared to burst through the door.Just wait for the first shot.
Seconds passing in slow succession, his wait, though painful, came to an end, a series of gunfire echoing off the stone causing him and Fitz to throw back the hatch, pistols cocked as they took in the scene.
“Ian!” Fitz shouted as he pitched himself sideways, a gun battle between the two began as the drizzle turned deluge.
Blinking against the rain, Darcy’s eyes fixed on Elizabeth, the man behind her cocking his weapon; his voice all too familiar.
“Let me leave and she will suffer no harm,” Wickham called over the rain, his pistol lowering toward Elizabeth as shots fired outside and around them. “Be quick! I am not about to get myself shot by waiting!”
“Your quarrel is with me,” Darcy warned, his muscles as dead weight at the sight of Elizabeth’s wide eyes.
“You are right. Always with you. Now,” he said, pulling Elizabeth to her feet, “are you going to let me pass?”
“Never a man, merely a worm? A coward! Hiding behind a woman’s skirts; unwilling to face his choices!” Darcy bellowed, his breath coming fast as he gripped his pistols. “Face me like a man!”
Pushing Elizabeth aside as he raised his gun at Darcy, Wickham chuckled, “Like this, you mean?”
A twitch of Wickham’s finger and Darcy dropped low, each pistol raised as he let his own lead fly, the whir of Wickham’s shot above sounding just before a thud and cry rang out from in front of him; one of his shots having hit its mark.
Racing toward Wickham, the man clutching his chest as he worked to sit upright, Darcy kicked away his pistol before scanning the room. One man had his hands held in surrender, the other, Ian, had his weapon pointed at Fitz.
Moving to help, Darcy watched as his cousin discharged his pistol, Ian’s weapon thudding to the floor as he clutched his hand, the man who had already surrendered raising his hands higher.
“It is finished!” Fitz announced to the three men outside, the last echo of a shot mingling with his words before silence reigned, the battle thankfully won.
His cousin safe, Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, his gaze flitting over her as he worked off her gag;she appeared unharmed, but?“Do you have a knife?” Darcy asked, his attention having been drawn to the ropes which bound her.
Pulling a blade from its sheath, Fitz slid it through his lady’s ropes before handing it to Darcy and gently removing Mary’s gag, her name spoken as a whisper as he wrapped his arms around her.
Taking a knee, Darcy did likewise with Elizabeth’s bonds, his chest fit to burst at seeing her unharmed. “I am so sorry,” he began as he set the knife aside. “We…”
“Shhh. We are alright, I promise you,” she interrupted, her hands resting on his shoulders. “It is over.”
Yes. Over. Enough so to keep his promise to himself.
