Page 23 of See, Hear, Speak No Evil, Mr. Darcy
Georgiana held up a hand. “Youcannotbe here.”
“Oh, but I must. And it seems fortune has put us together again. Did you come into the gardens seeking me, Georgiana?”
“Quite the opposite. I have dreaded the day I might meet you again.”
“You have not missed me with the same desperation I have missed you?”
Mr. Wickham closed in on her, the look she once believed roguish she now knew to be malevolent.
“Do not come any closer, Mr. Wickham. There is nothing you might say I want to hear. Leave this property at once, or my brother—”
“It is Lieutenant Wickham now, though not for long. Your brother would do nothing but give me more money and ask me to leave in the politest of terms. Yet your dowry is far greater than any sum he would pay. This time, I will not be thwarted from claiming it, Georgiana.”
Wickham reached out. Terrified, Georgiana was quick to retreat. His eyes narrowing in anger, Mr. Wickham lunged.
“Help!” Georgiana called out, though she felt like something was lodged in her throat.
“Be silent,” Mr. Wickham demanded, gripping her arm tight.
“I willnotgo with you. Now, let me go, Mr. Wickham!”
“Mr. Wickham now and not George? That will soon change.”
“Help!” Georgiana yelled with a force from deep within. “Help!”
“Come, your father would have taken joy from our union: me, the favored youth named George after him. Me and his precious Georgie. Now, be silent, little Georgie.” Lieutenant Wickham’s sinister laugh echoed through the garden.
“I willnotmarry you.” Georgiana slapped Wickham with all her might.
“You will, and I will have at last what the Darcys owe me,” Mr. Wickham said, dragging Georgiana from the walled garden.
“Help!” Georgiana screamed.
Charlotte and Elizabeth Make an Early Visit to Netherfield Park
Charlotte and Elizabeth walked down the drive of Netherfield to see their friend. The ordeal of the previous day had given them both cause for concern, one that had only increased with every passing hour. As they neared the house, they heard a woman scream. The two ran toward the gardens.
“Wickham!” Mr. Darcy bellowed, rushing from a side door of the house.
“Wickham!” yelled a soldier on a large horse, leaping over a hedge onto the scene, the hooves near to drowning out the sound of a gunshot.
Charlotte, Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, and the soldier found Miss Darcy on her knees next to the same man she and Elizabeth had seen the previous day speaking to Miss King. Blood bloomed across his jacket at an alarming rate.
“I will never let you touch me again,” cried Miss Darcy, pounding on his chest.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees, pulling Miss Darcy back from the wounded man. Footmen came running, as did another servant wielding a pistol. Bingley ran out of the house, struggling into his jacket.
“I will finish you myself, Wickham!” The soldier leapt from his horse.
“Richard,” Georgiana screamed when the wounded man picked up the gun Miss Darcy had dropped.
Charlotte snatched the servant’s gun, aimed at the seducer, and discharged it just as the soldier’s gun fired. George Wickham had two more bullet wounds in his jacket near his heart.
Charlotte startled when the tall soldier was before her. Her eyes locked on his, though the world, for her, was silent. She did not flinch when his hand enveloped hers; somehow, this unknown man brought her comfort.
Feeling a tug, Charlotte blinked, unable to understand why. She felt him tug her hand again and realized she yet held a gun. When he pulled again, Charlotte saw, more than felt, the gun slipping from her numb fingers.
Forcing her fingers to spread, Charlotte could not comprehend how the gun was no longer in her hand. But his touch? That echoed through her body in waves. When Charlotte gasped, the soldier cupped her face in a hand, raising her chin. He did not let her pull away but held her thus for what could have been a second or an eternity. Time had lost all meaning.
