Page 18 of Until My Last Breath

The man then turned his murderous eyes towards him. “Wickham. Your useless idiot. What was that?” Brown’s strong accent, typical in the streets of the dirty Seven Dials area in London, echoed in the air. “Can’t you even hold a woman? Come ’ere and help us with this,” he roared, pointing to the immobile couple at his feet. “You carry the girl, Ned an’ I will carry the gent.”

The idea of kidnapping Darcy had come to Wickham after being severely beaten and left hanging by his left foot by those same criminals, while Brown pointed a gun to his manly parts, threatening to send him to hell.

Wickham knew about Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s annual visit to their aunt. He told Brown and Ned about this wealthy gentleman and that Kent would be the best place to carry out their scheme. Mr Darcy would be far away from home in a place where the servants and villagers were not as loyal to him as they were in Derbyshire.

“It cannot be that difficult,” Wickham had shouted, while still receiving punches from the men. “He usually walks or rides alone in the morning.” Wickham hoped his old acquaintance was still keeping his old habits. “He is good with his sword and pistols, but the three of us should be enough to catch him by surprise. We just need to be sure that his bear of a cousin is not nearby.”

“I hope you’re right. I’m not as forgiving as my cousin. I’ll finish what I’ve started…” Brown had barked back at him.

How was Wickham to know that his companion in the militia — the one to whom he had lost a handsome amount of money after a dreadfulcard game — had a cousin in the underbelly of London and would sell Wickham’s debt to him?

“I’ll take care of ’im,” Brown had promised his cousin. “I’ve got somethin’ he can do for me.”

It had been a stroke of luck that as soon as they arrived that morning, they had seen Darcy walking alone and sitting by a tree, with no sign of the colonel.

Then, a lady reached Darcy before them. She could not be more than a nuisance, they decided. But Wickham was not counting on the fact that the lady in question was actually Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the same lady who had caught his attention in Hertfordshire. Due to the swelling around his eyes, he had not been able to recognise her from afar. Then, while grabbing her, in his momentary distraction as he recognised her, Miss Elizabeth had removed his mask, revealing his identity, something Brown had said he would not tolerate.

“Put both of them in the carriage and let’s go,” Brown barked again. “Someone must have heard the shot. Hurry.”

There was nothing Wickham could do, so he obeyed. Kidnapping was a crime punishable by hanging — deportation at best. He was not a murderer, but he would not swap his life for Miss Elizabeth’s. He knew he could run from the law, but not from these merciless criminals.

While carrying Miss Elizabeth to her uncertain fate, he could not fathom why Brown had suddenly changed his mind, taking her with them after trying to kill her. Wickham saw the bleeding bruise on her split lip and was filled with remorse. At that moment, his left foot faltered and he wobbled. The pain just reminded him of that horrible day he had been captured and tortured by Brown.

Why did Miss Elizabeth, of all the women in the kingdom, have to be the one there at that moment?

Ned took his place as the driver with Brown beside him. Wickham laid Miss Elizabeth beside the man who had ruined his life and closed the door of the old carriage.

He mounted his horse. “I am going ahead to buy some supplies forour trip. Our man there,” Wickham said, with a pang of guilt, pointing to the carriage, “will not survive if we do not stop that bleeding.”

“And who said I care? Nobody will know if he’s dead or alive,” Brown spat.

“That would be a mistake,” said Wickham, regaining part of his courage. “He is a gentleman and the nephew of an earl, you fool, and I know his family. We will never escape the hangman if you let Mr Darcy die. Not today, and not in a hundred years.”

Brown seemed to consider his words and then nodded. “Right. Just remember to come back. We’re not stopping. Reach us along the way.”

“What about the girl, Brown?” Ned asked while urging the horse to move. “She wasn’t part of the plan. Why spare her?”

“No, she wasn’t,” said Brown rubbing his chin. “But now that we’ve got ’er, I’ve an idea about what we can do with ’er.” He looked at Ned with mischief in his eyes. “Besides, we’ll need someone to look after the dandy during our journey.”

Wickham shivered and tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he saw the dust rising behind the moving carriage. He took a deep breath and, feeling a great disgust towards himself, shook his head. He cursed his luck and urged his horse forward. He would burn in hell for eternity for he could not bear to think of what those ruffians were planning for Miss Elizabeth. Unfortunately, he had his own neck to save now.

Not too far from there, a small pair of eyes had witnessed everything. The little boy was now running away as if his life was depending on it.

~ ♥ ~

Richard was in the breakfast room, taking his coffee and reading the newspaper, when he heard a muffled sound he knew well enough — a gunshot. He ran from the room towards the back of the house, looking for somebody to enquire about the noise, when he found the stable boy. “Did you hear that sound?”

“Yes, sir. It sounded like a gunshot coming from the area close to Mr Collins’s house.”

Richard did not think twice. “Gather some armed men and meet me here with the horses as soon as possible.”

It could not have been someone hunting as it was not the season yet. He ran back into the house and to his bedchamber, where he found his own sword and pistol, and some munition. On his way out he checked Darcy’s room, but there was only one of the maids cleaning it. He asked her to tell Mr Darcy, and nobody else, he was out with some men investigating some trespassers, and that he would come back soon.

In no time he was back at the stables, where the other men were now gathering. “We heard a gunshot coming from around Mr Collins’ house,” Richard said, mounting his horse and leading the group away. “Please be careful. We do not know what has happened.”

When they arrived at the parsonage, Mr Collins was already at the gate, his face pale as chalk. “Dear Lord, sir! Thank you for coming; I was already on my way to call for help. I fear something dreadful must have happened. Cousin Elizabeth is not here. Cook informed us that she went out for her morning walk. Then I heard what seemed like her shouting and the noise of a gunshot. It came from the end of the south path, down the valley, close to the brook.”

Richard had the answer he needed, and in seconds they headed in the direction Mr Collins had pointed out. He knew the place; it was where he had found Darcy in the mud with Miss Elizabeth.

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