Page 52 of Until My Last Breath

During the meal, Captain Owen thought about a possibility. “What if there is another departing point besides Portsmouth?”

Richard straightened his back and frowned while his mind engaged the idea. “That is indeed a possibility, Owen. Do you have a map, Mr Dayton?”

The remaining food and dishes were replaced by a map. It did not take them long to realise the number of possible places those smugglers could be setting off from; too many for their small group to reach in time.

Someone knocked on the door, and Mr Dayton left the table.

Richard groaned. After many hours keeping his temper under control, he was now extremely frustrated and angry. He did not know how to proceed or where to go. In a rare manifestation of lack of self-control, he hit his fists on the table, releasing a strong grunt. “Damn you, Wickham.”

“Richard,” a familiar voice came from behind him. “It seems you are in need of some help.”

Richard turned and gasped. He could hardly believe his own eyes. “Darcy. What the hell?”

~ ♥ ~

Elizabeth opened her eyes, feeling someone poking her feet.

“Wake up. We have arrived,” Wickham said, leaving the carriage.

The coldness of his words brought Elizabeth back to reality. She tried to move, but her hands and feet were tied, and she felt a sharp pain in her head. A wave of nausea swept over her. An uncontrollable shiver ran down her body as cold and fear invaded her mind once again.

Wickham put his head back inside the carriage and extended a hand holding a small knife and cut the rope.

“Come,” he ordered.

“Where are we?” she mumbled, struggling to stand up.

Wickham grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out. “Brighton.” Helooked at her face, now illuminated by some lanterns, and saw the fresh marks he had left on her already bruised face. Guilt shook him to his core. “I am sorry I hit you, but—”

“Do not dare apologise to me for any of this,” Elizabeth interrupted angrily. “If my fate is to be taken away and suffer for the rest of my life, at least one thing will bring me great consolation: that I will never be forced to see your face, ever again!”

Wickham flinched at her words and for a brief moment, he felt ashamed. He could not avoid that inner voice telling him what a monster he had become. But it was too late. He had a deal to close and his neck to save.

The bitter irony of his present situation did not escape him either. Had Brown died the day before, Wickham would not just be free from his debts, but would have avoided this sordid deal he had closed with those pirates — selling them Miss Elizabeth — and would be free to go. Damned fate!

“Very well then. Be it as you wish,” he said turning his attention to his companion. He motioned his head to the man who had been driving the carriage and told him to join them.

Johnson, as the driver was called, took a dagger from his boot, and held Elizabeth by the arm with the sharp object in her back.

As they walked at the weak light of some lanterns, her senses sharpened; the ground beneath her feet turned from sturdy earth to loose and noisy planks of woods; the strong, wet and salty wind, added to water sounds and moored boats hitting against the pier were enough to make her heart freeze. Brighton port. Boats. Sea. The world.

She looked around to see if she could find a way to escape, but the place was empty, with the exception of a couple of men ahead of them. She would never make it.

Approaching the two men, Wickham lifted his hand and Johnson stopped, pulling Elizabeth to a halt with him. Wickham approached the two men. They talked, and when he returned, she knew her fate had been sealed.

It was the end of her life as she had known it.

She thought about Mr Darcy — William — his tender kisses and his words of love, only hoping he was safe. She also thought about her family, and that she would never be able to see them again. Desperation suffocated the tiny bit of hope she had been clinging to.

Despite all the pain, Elizabeth would not let a single tear fall from her eyes. Whatever was ahead of her only God knew, and it was to Him that she commended her soul.

Only a miracle could save her now.

Wickham waved to Johnson, and the man led her inside one of the nearby fishing boats, big enough to accommodate three people. A mumbled sound of voices attracted her attention. She was surprised to see one of the men arguing with Mr Wickham. By the way he was reacting, it was not a good conversation.

“Mr Fisher,” Elizabeth heard Wickham whispering exasperated, “this is not what we have agreed. You saidyoucould take her.”

“And when I agreed to take apassengerto the island, you didn’t mention it was a young woman!” the man hissed back. “You saida person. I don’t care for your troubles, sir, but I’m not taking her in my boat without a chaperone. My missus would be furious! Besides, women bring bad luck on a boat. I can’t be responsible for her safety. I’ll not take her if you don’t come with us.”

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