“I imagine lowering an unconscious young lady down a ladder would be difficult,” he said mildly. “Particularly given your well-documented aversion to heights.”
Darcy shot him a look.
Richard shrugged. “You nearly fainted on the battlements at Dover when we toured it with your father as boys.”
“I didnotfaint.”
“You sat down very suddenly.”
Darcy turned away. “Let us try the front door.”
“I think that may be the only option left to us. That, or break a window.”
“No,” Darcy shook his head. “I think I would like to see what Mr. Bennet has to say for himself.”
They went back around to the front of the house and climbed the steps. Darcy lifted the heavy brass knocker and struck it hard against the wood.
The sound echoed through the quiet house.
He knocked again.
And again.
Soon the knocking turned into pounding.
“Mr. Bennet!” Darcy called sharply. “Open this door!”
Silence.
Darcy struck the door again, harder this time.
“Mr. Bennet!”
At last footsteps sounded within.
The lock turned.
The door opened a narrow distance—and Mr. Bennet stood in the threshold.
His eyes widened at the sight of them. “Mr. Darcy,” he said.
Darcy did not bother with pleasantries. “I have come for Elizabeth.”
For a brief moment neither man moved, then Mr. Bennet’s expression hardened. Without a word he slammed the door shut, and the bolt slid into place.
Darcy stared at the closed door for a fraction of a second. Then fury surged through him.
“The wedding is off,” Mr. Bennet’s voice called from inside. “You may go home.”
Darcy raised his fist and pounded on the door.
“Open this door!”
No answer.
Darcy stepped back, his heart hammering. Richard watched him carefully.
“Well?” the colonel asked quietly.
