He fell into step with them and began to report the news — or, rather, the lack of news. “We have not seen any sign of Wickham yet. I assume he knows the gig is up and has fled Pemberley. I shall send a servant for the constables directly. We may yet catch him before he leaves the neighbourhood.”
“And good riddance,” Lady Catherine snarled.
They all went upstairs, making Darcy wonder if they intended to follow him into Elizabeth’s room. He would put them right if they did. Elizabeth would be too inclined to think of their comfort when she ought to focus only on her own recovery.
As they rounded the corner that led to the main suites, they heard muffled voices coming from further down the hall. Elizabeth lifted her head, turning it toward the noise. “Is that Georgiana’s voice I hear?” she asked, her voice rich with concern.
When they came around the bend, they could see two people talking in the shadows near the back staircase. “It is Georgiana. And Wickham!” Elizabeth whispered. “Let me down,” she pleaded. Darcy did as she asked, then strode down the hall to where the two were evidently in the middle of a heated discussion.
“Come along, Georgie,” Wickham said, strain evident in his voice. “We must go now! I shall explain everything to you, only we must be away.”
“I will not go with you! Unhand me,” Georgiana was saying when they came near.
With a sudden effort, Georgiana jerked her wrist out of his grasp and fled to Darcy’s side. With the speed of a cat, Wickham pulled a pistol from behind his back and pointed it at the assembled company. He looked over his shoulder toward the open door of the stairwell.
“Let me be, Darcy,” Wickham snarled. “I don’t want to use this.”
Darcy instantly stepped in front of his wife and sister. He held up his hands in surrender. “We don’t want that either. Leave now, Wickham.”
“Not without what’s owed to me,” he said.
“Georgiana’s dowry does not belong to you, for your marriage is invalid. We know you are already married to Elaine.”
His face blanched. “How did you find her?” he seethed.
“By the grace of God, and by your own carelessness,” Darcy said. “Now, lower your weapon.”
Wickham hesitated, then backed toward the stairwell and his only means of escape, carefully holding the gun aimed directly at them. Darcy held Elizabeth tucked behind him, ablaze with frustration. Wickham was going to get away, but he could not stop him. Not if it meant leaving Elizabeth unprotected.
“The game is up, Wickham. Put down the weapon, and perhaps the judge can be persuaded to have leniency. Deportation or even prison is better than adding murder to your long list of sins.” Fitzwilliam moved in front of Anne, shieldingher should Wickham decide to fire into the crowd that was quickly closing ranks around him.
“No!” he snarled. He looked more like a cornered animal than a man.
Without warning, Lady Catherine suddenly stepped forward and raised her cane, heedless of the gun Wickham still held.
“You scoundrel!” Lady Catherine exclaimed. “How dare you come into this home and treat my nieces this way!” And with that, she began to beat him over the head with the walking stick. Darcy watched in horror, certain that his aunt was about to be shot before his eyes.
To his astonishment, it was not so. Perhaps out of surprise as much as pain, Wickham dropped the pistol, holding up his arms to shield his head from the fierce volley of blows raining down on him. He hurried toward the staircase.
Just as Wickham was about to scramble down the first steps, Lady Catherine’s cane met the side of his head one last time, knocking him off-balance. He tripped and fell down the steep, narrow stairs, unable to stop himself. Darcy rushed to the landing. In the dim light, he saw Wickham go tumbling down the winding stairs, gaining speed as he went. He heard rather than saw the sickening thud that ended the grunts of pain issuing from his old nemesis.
Lady Catherine lowered her arms, a hush falling over them as they listened for the sounds of movement at the bottom of the servants’ staircase. All was deathly quiet. “Is he —?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Darcy said. He nodded to Fitzwilliam, who followed him as he started down the steps. Once at the bottom, they turned Wickham over, his eyes staring into the void. Darcy exchanged a glance with his cousin, but he already knew the answer to his silent question. Fitzwilliam pressed his forefingers to Wickham’s throat, then shook his head.
“It is all over now. Wickham is dead.”
Chapter 30
“It is all over now. Wickham is dead.”
Even from the top of the stairs, Elizabeth could hear Colonel Fitzwilliam’s flat, grim pronouncement. Georgiana gave a little scream, sinking to the floor.
“Georgiana? Georgiana!” Elizabeth sank to her knees beside her sister-in-law, worry for Georgiana overcoming her pain and exhaustion. She touched Georgiana’s cheek and tried to get her to wake up. “Georgiana?”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she seemed to search Elizabeth’s face for a moment, her vision clearing. “Elizabeth?” she questioned. “Tell me it is not true.”
Elizabeth gathered her into her arms, offering the only comfort she could give. “I am sorry, Georgiana. It is true. He is dead,” Elizabeth told her softly. Tears pooled in her eyes, then slipped down her cheeks. She could not have cried for Wickham, but she did cry for her sister-in-law. Why had Wickham been so selfish? Why had he allowed his greed and ambition to ruin everything he touched? A man of such charm and talent hadalmost limitless potential. Wickham had used his only to cause limitless pain.
