Elizabeth started at the implication, but still shook her head over it, although Mr Darcy could not see her. She thought to mention that between the knife and the pistols he had not been able to defend her yet, but she supposed that would be unkind.
“Get back over here!” Steamer called.
She tried to move back across the carriage, but it rocked and she lost her balance again, jostling between Mr Darcy’s shoulder and the side-glass.
“Oh, just sit over there!” Steamer cried.
She sat and shifted a little away from Mr Darcy, and she saw him stretch out his fingers toward her, then he closed them into a tight fist as though he had changed his mind. She had many reasons to hate this man, but now they would have to rely on one another in this terrifying situation.
Elizabeth leant back her head; she was a naïve user of laudanum and felt the effects already. She was drifting off to sleep, but before she did, she reached out and took Mr Darcy’s hand in hers.
Darcy had thoughthis worst lifetime memory would be Elizabeth rejecting his proposal. Being told that he was the last man in the world she would ever marry had cut out his heart. The letter he wrote defending his conduct, the one still in his coat pocket, had been painful to write, and he had known that seeing her to deliver it would be a strain, but the pain of her words last night tortured him the worst of all.
I thought nothing could ever shock and wound me as much as being told I had not behaved in a gentleman-like manner.
And then he had heard Elizabeth cry out as two men tried to throw her into a carriage.
What wickedness and cruelty were at the root of their abduction? From a slight resemblance based on their hair colour and the fact that she had been seen with him, their abductors thought they had captured their object, but what did they want with Anne de Bourgh? His presence was a bonus, not necessary like Anne’s. Ransom seemed a likely motive, but why her more than him? Both he and his cousin had fortunes, both had a wealthy earl as an uncle who could be pressed to pay, so why was she the preferred target?
Darcy’s mind raced as the carriage rattled on. They had to escape, but that was impossible until Elizabeth woke up. He was still blindfolded, and about an hour ago, her grip on his hand slackened, and soon after that, her head dipped onto his shoulder. Leaving her behind to seek help was impossible—who knew what they might do to her?
He felt weak and unnerved that he could not protect her. He should have been able to stop them from taking her. What would the kidnappers do when they realised they captured the wrong woman?
They would have to get away before that happened, but they could not escape now. Not with being outnumbered and Elizabeth dosed with laudanum. The man with the pipe, Steamer, still sat across from them, but perhaps while he was distracted later, Darcy and Elizabeth could escape before Colton and the other man on the horse pulled their pistols.
Her head rested on his shoulder, and it was both reassuring to feel her so close since he could not see, and bitterly painful to know she did not want him at all. Not his hand, not his wealth,not his name and protection, not himself; she wanted nothing he had to offer.
Does it even matter if I explain why I was glad to separate her sister from my friend?
Perhaps it did not, but if they survived this trial, she still ought to know what matter of man her alleged friend Wickham was. It was not impossible that they could escape, and she would eventually return home to where her circle included the wickedest man in all of England. She was wrong about Wickham, but it struck him that she was entirely right abouthim.
Darcy’s throat was tight with the strain of controlling his feelings. Painful recollections intruded, but it was better to think on those than dwell on the fear of what might happen when the carriage stopped. Grief at being rejected, guilt at not attempting to flatter the woman he wanted to marry, anger at the lies Wickham told all crossed his mind and had their moment of reflection.
He concluded that he had been selfish, in practice, though not in principle. Proud, conceited, selfish, and overbearing. It was a humbling realisation. His conduct toward Elizabeth, toward everyone, was unpardonable.
The carriage then slowed and stayed at this pace before making a few more turns and finally stopping. He felt a sickening sense of dread at what would happen to them now.
A hand roughly tore off his blindfold. Darcy pulled away, turning his head from side to side and blinking at the sudden brightness. His motions had jostled awake Elizabeth, whose bleary eyes slowly took in the scene. He wondered how drowsy and confused she was from the laudanum, but when she saw her hand was still holding his, she yanked it away.
He pushed down his disappointment as the door opened and Colton beckoned them out. Steamer pointed at Elizabethto leave first, and she awkwardly moved past them to the door. Although she was careful about her footing, Colton did not offer her a hand for balance, and she tripped on the steps and fell onto her hands and knees. Worried what might happen to her if the horses stepped forward, Darcy tried to get out to help her up when Steamer gripped his shoulder.
“You stay where I can see you,” he said around his pipe. “Colton will get her.”
Colton’s help extended so far as to gripping Elizabeth’s elbow and hauling her up, and only when he was guiding her on stumbling feet toward a house near to the lane was Darcy allowed to leave the carriage. The man who rode postilion had drawn his pistol, and Steamer climbed down behind him and gave Darcy’s back a shove.
“See to the horses, Conway, and send a message to Markle. And let him know we have another.”
In the few steps it took to get to the house, Darcy looked around as much as he could. They were in what felt like a small village, but he did not recognise it. They had travelled a little more than an hour, so they were around ten miles from Hunsford, but they could have gone west into Surrey or be still in Kent for all he knew.
Ahead of him, Elizabeth was led into a timber-clad cottage that sat near to what might be the High Street. The other man led away the carriage. Darcy tried to see where the horses might be stabled, might anyone help them, was there an inn nearby, was there a signpost, but Steamer shoved him again, and he entered the house.
Immediately, his eyes sought Elizabeth. They had deposited her in a chair in a cluttered parlour, her typically pretty eyes now empty and lustreless. There were two rooms on the ground floor with beams projecting into the ceiling and a disarray of crates on the floor, and presumably there were offices at the back. Hesupposed there were only a few chambers upstairs. There was no place to hide in this small house if the opportunity came.
The man named Colton stood next to her and said to Steamer, “I will be at the tavern with Conway. We will be back when we hear from Markle.”
Steamer nodded and took a spill from the vase by the fire to light his pipe. They were alone now with one captor, but Elizabeth was still not well enough to escape.
Darcy fought back frustration at Elizabeth’s condition. It was not her fault she was too senseless to get away while Colton and Conway left for a drink.
