Page 60 of Attempted Compromises
Making a split-second decision, Elizabeth veered to the left and plunged into the winding, overgrown paths that she hadn’t explored in years. She sprinted as fast as she could, her skirts twisting around her legs, hampering her progress, her sense of direction completely abandoned in favor of survival. Every turn felt like a gamble, each twist another potential trap.
She could hear Wickham crashing through the hedges behind her, his curses growing louder. “Do you think I can’t follow you in here? I’ll find you, you little chit!”
The darkness around her was broken only by the occasional flash of lightning, illuminating her path just long enough to give her fleeting glimpses of the wild, dense path. Her lungs burned with effort, but she didn’t dare slow down— Wickham’s furious shouts were echoing behind her, driving her forward like the crack of a whip.
Panic surged through her veins as she turned another corner, only to come face-to-face with a solid wall of hedges: a dead end. Wickham’s footsteps grew louder, and she knew she had mere moments before he would catch up.
She spun around, her eyes wild with desperation, and spotted a thin gap in the branches to her left. Without thinking, she threw herself into the thicket, the sharp twigs scraping her skin as she forced her way through to the other side.
The passage she emerged into was narrower, the walls of greenery looming high above her. She hesitated, her chest heaving as she realized she had no idea where she was. The maze’s twists and turns had disoriented her completely, and the sound of Wickham’s pursuit seemed to echo from all directions.
Frantically, she scanned her surroundings, her gaze landing on a hedge that looked slightly thinner than the rest. It was low enough to crawl beneath, and the gap between the branches was just wide enough for her to squeeze into. Without a moment’s hesitation, Elizabeth dropped to her knees and scrambled into the small hollow, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she pressed herself against the cool earth.
The branches clawed at her dress and hair, tearing fabric and pulling at her curls, but she didn’t stop until she was fully concealed among the leaves. She crouched low, her hands trembling as she rearranged the foliage to shield her further from view.
She crouched low, her bosom heaving as she fought to control her breathing. The sound of Wickham’s boots crunching on the gravel grew closer, and she pressed her hand tightly over her mouth, stifling the urge to gasp for air. Her lungs burned, and her entire body trembled with fear, but she didn’t dare make a sound.
The thunder above grew louder, a sharp crack lighting up the maze for a split second, and she held her breath, praying he wouldn’t find her.
Her heart thundered in her ears as she listened, trying to find the danger. Wickham’s voice, sharp and furious, pierced the air. “Come out, you little fool! There’s no point in hiding. I’ll find you— you can’t hide forever!”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, forcing herself to take shallow, silent breaths. The ache in her chest from holding her breath grew unbearable, but she refused to give herself away. Her muscles locked in place as his shadow passed dangerously close to her shelter.
Wickham’s footsteps slowed, his boots grinding against the gravel as he searched the area. She could hear the frustration in his voice as he muttered curses under his breath. Through the gaps in the leaves, she could see his face twisted in anger, his eyes scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. He shouted her name again, the sound reverberating through the still night.
The footsteps retreated slightly, then paused. Elizabeth’s heart stopped as she heard him double back, moving closer to her hiding spot. She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay still as the branches above her shifted slightly in the breeze.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the landscape, and for one terrifying moment, she saw Wickham’s silhouette mere feet from her hiding place. She bit her lip, tasting blood, as her hands pressed hard against her knees to keep herself from trembling.
Please, God, don’t let him find me.
After what felt like an eternity, Wickham let out a string of curses and turned toward the stables, his heavy steps fading into the distance. She dared to lift her head just enough to peer through the leaves. Her breath caught as she saw him stomping down the path toward the stables, his figure fading into the shadows.
Relief washed over her, but she didn’t dare move. Her muscles began to burn and cramp from being held so tightly, but she remained frozen in place. Minutes passed, and the only noise was the distant rumble of thunder. Slowly, cautiously, Elizabeth began to shift, her limbs stiff from remaining in one position for so long.
Just as she was about to step out of the hedgerow, the sound of a carriage approaching reached her ears. She froze, her eyes darting toward the drive. The faint glow of lanterns appeared, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw Wickham driving her father’s carriage up to the front door. He was alone, his movements frantic and hurried as he pulled the vehicle to a stop.
What is he doing?she thought, panic flooding her veins.
To her horror, Wickham leapt from the driver’s seat and ran back into the house. Elizabeth’s mind raced. What was he doing? Should she risk running to the carriage to seek help, or stay hidden?
Before she could decide, Wickham reemerged, carrying the limp figure of Miss Bingley in his arms, her body hanging like a ragdoll with her head lolling to the side. Elizabeth clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry, tears streaming down herface as she watched Wickham roughly shove the unconscious woman into the carriage before running back to the house.
Should I help her?
Indecision warred with fear inside her, but before she could make a decision, he returned, now wearing a dark coat she recognized as Darcy’s. In his arms, he carried a sack overflowing with silverware, jewels, and a coin purse, which he tossed onto Miss Bingley’s prone form.
Wickham paused, glancing around before pulling a white cloth from his pocket. He tied Miss Bingley’s hands together, his movements quick and efficient, then climbed into the driver’s seat. With a flick of the reins, the carriage jolted forward, disappearing down the road and into the night.
Elizabeth remained frozen, staring at the now-empty drive, her mind unable to process what she had just witnessed. She bit down on her lip until it bled even more fiercely, the salty fluid mingling with the tears streaming down her face. Miss Bingley—whatever her faults—was being taken somewhere against her will, and Elizabeth could do nothing to stop it.
The first drops of rain began to fall, cold and sharp against her skin, but she didn’t move. It wasn’t until the drizzle turned into a steady downpour, soaking her gown and chilling her to the bone, that she finally broke from her daze.
She stumbled back toward the house, her steps unsteady as the rain plastered her hair to her face. Her shoes squelched with every step, but she hardly noticed. Her only thought was to find help.
The front door banged open as she entered, and her voice echoed through the silent halls. “Hello? Is anyone here? Please, help me!”
The house was eerily quiet, save for the sound of her footsteps and the pounding rain outside. She ran toward the drawing room, her heart sinking as she saw the unconscious figures still sprawled where they had fallen. Darcy, Bingley, Jane—all unmoving, their faces pale.
