Chapter 28
Elizabeth’s breath came in frantic gasps, leaving her almost faint with breathlessness and fear. It was cold — too cold. She was sprawled on the dirty ground, tied to a tree with her arms behind her back. She did not know where she was, and she was utterly alone.
That, at least, was something of a blessing, for the absence of Mr Wickham was a profound relief. At least he had not intended to cause her harm at his own hands. Had he wished to kill her, she would be dead now.
That she still lived led to two conclusions, neither of which Elizabeth liked. Either he intended to ransom her, trading her life for Georgiana’s dowry — or he would never return, leaving the cold to do what he would not, and silence her forever.
Elizabeth strained against her ropes, wishing for the thousandth time that she might find some slack in them. As each time before, she accomplished nothing more than adding to her store of cuts and bruises. Mr Wickham had many, many flaws, but it seemed the inability to tie a knot was not among them. Hehad tied her so securely that she could do no more than writhe against the ropes.
He had left her gagged, but even had she been able to scream, it might have availed her nothing. Before abandoning her, Mr Wickham had dragged her in circles through the woods until she had lost all sense of direction. Even now, she might equally have been a quarter-mile from the house, or yards from one of the outbuildings.
Her captor had chosen a strange place to abandon her. The dense clearing seemed almost a kind of hideout, for there were upturned wooden boxes that might have served as table and chairs, as well as a wooden crate of supplies close to where he had tied her. It had contained the ropes Mr Wickham had used on her, and a bottle from which he had taken a long swallow. Remembering that Mr Wickham had grown up at Pemberley, Elizabeth wondered if it might once have been a boy’s hideaway. The thought had a strange sadness to it. If Mr Wickham had once been an innocent boy, laughing as he ran through the woods and delighting in finding a secret place to play, that boy was long gone now.
As the hours passed, the bitter cold seeped deep into her bones. If he left her here overnight, she would be dead come morning. Already, her limbs were growing stiff with the chill as the temperatures dropped. Had anyone even realised she was gone?
Please, let someone find me soon…Elizabeth prayed silently. The cold was growing worse. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried yet again to loosen the ropes around her wrists. It was no use. All she did was bruise and chafe her skin. She tried to pull her wrists free, but with no greater success.
Terrified, Elizabeth quit her efforts, trying to remain calm so she could think. Had she done the right thing? If only she had pretended to agree to Mr Wickham’s terms! A promise to such a villain could hold no weight; as soon as she had left Mr Wickham’s company, she could have found Mr Darcy and warned him. Georgiana would then have the protection she needed so desperately — and Elizabeth herself would even now be safe in her nice, warm rooms at Pemberley.
She shivered and shook with every breath. Her toes felt as if they were nearly frozen in her slippers, and her arms and legs were wracked with stabbing pains. Soon, however, she knew she would grow numb and feel nothing — and that was even more dangerous than being unbearably cold as she was now.
It would be better to bruise and even break her hand, if only it would allow her to get free of her bonds. Long after the sun set and darkness fell, Elizabeth wrestled with the ropes. She had to get free. She had to protect Georgiana from the monster who was masquerading as her husband.
Most of all, she had to tell Will that she loved him.
There was so much they had yet to do together. They ought to have many, many years to be in love. It could not end here, not like this. They ought to have children together, to live and work and play together, to grow old together. She must not give up.
But at last, Elizabeth stopped struggling. Exhausted from her efforts, she huddled against the tree, too tired to go on. “Please!” she cried feebly through the dirty cloth. Her humble cry for help was snatched away by the wind.
Taking a long, slow breath, Elizabeth accepted the truth. There was nothing she could do to save herself. She would simply have to wait and hope.
She thought of her family in Longbourn, trying to see each of their faces in her mind’s eye. She imagined sitting in the parlour on a cold winter evening, all of them safe and snug around the fire as Mary read to them.
Comfort and protect them,she prayed.
She thought then of Georgiana, and even Lady Catherine, Cousin Anne, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, sending up a prayer for each of them.
Last and dearest of all, she thought of Will. All along, he had been her true love, but she had waited too long to tell him so. She hoped, somehow, he would know that she cared for him by the little things she had done to please him. Short-lived as their marriage had been, he ought to know that his wife had loved him.
Elizabeth drifted into a fitful sleep then, too tired to go on fighting.
Suddenly, she startled awake. There had been a sound — she was certain of it. She heard a rustling some distance away, but coming ever closer. It did not sound like a forest creature, but like a human being hurrying through the dense woods. Was Mr Wickham returning to see if she had expired yet?
She lay very still against the tree trunk. Perhaps if she pretended to be dead, he would untie her, and she could try to catch him unawares and escape. Elizabeth tested her muscles, wishing they were not so stiff. With courage as her only weapon, she braced for whatever might come.
Chapter 29
As Darcy returned to the drawing room from his search of the upper floors, he knew before asking that the others had met with no more success than himself. Fitzwilliam stood by the mantle, still out of breath from running, while Georgiana stood in conference with Mrs Reynolds.
“What news in the search?” Darcy asked them.
“None yet, sir,” Reynolds replied. “The maids have reported back from the attics; Mrs Darcy certainly is not there. The back stairs have been checked, as have all the servants’ quarters. And the footmen have checked over the other rooms. No one has seen her.”
Darcy nodded. “We must search the grounds, then. Every able-bodied man will be needed. It is a cold night; see to it that there are plenty of warm drinks for the men when we return. I shall direct the search myself.”
Reynolds nodded, looking as strained as he felt himself. “Yes, sir. I shall see to everything here. You put all your mind to finding Mrs Darcy.”
It never even occurred to Darcy to feel offense at her free-speaking. “I will, Reynolds. I swear it.”
