Chapter 14: The Making of Wickham

Elizabeth didn't know how long she had slept, but awoke to a hand shaking her.

By the time she sat up, the figure was already on the other side of the room, bending over Lydia and whispering, "Quickly, quickly! And not a sound!"

Lydia started to stir, Elizabeth rose unsteadily to her feet, the cold air startling her, then reached down to grasp Lydia's outstretched hands.

It was still the depths of night, but voices were calling outside and surely torches had been lit in the courtyard below, for there were now illuminated patches on the wall facing the window.

Elizabeth tried to shake off her sleepiness, as she felt Lydia's hand slip away. She followed the space where Lydia had been, to hear shuffling. Soon, Wickham's face emerged from the dark.

"Shhhh, not a sound, and hurry!"

"Wickham!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Shhhhhh!" Wickham hissed, this time anger joining the fear in his voice. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"What is happening?" Lydia asked trembling.

"What is happening is that your father is in midst of making sure that you and Darcy die as quick a death as possible, unless I manage to smuggle you out of here first," Wickham responded grimly. "Both of you, crouch down! I don't want your shadows spotted."

Elizabeth and Lydia obeyed unquestioningly.

"Where is Darcy?" Elizabeth whispered. "What are you doing here? What has my father done? I can't leave without Darcy!"

"Oh, you are well leaving without Darcy, even if I have to knock you over the head and drag your senseless body out of here." Wickham motioned them to be silent as he put his ear to the wall, and listened before speaking again. "I'll try and save you, both of you," Wickham said, his voice still a whisper, "but you must be quick and do as I say. There are soldiers arrived from Brennus' camp, twenty, even thirty, with a will to hunt Lydia and Darcy down. I will explain all when we are safe. They surely have Darcy trapped by now, but he's a lively one, keeping them occupied to give you both a chance. He bade me to help you escape. Be still, stay with me!" Lydia was moving to the window, but Wickham reached out and clasped her arm.

"We have to get to Darcy," Elizabeth whispered plaintively. "We must help him!"

"I mean to lead you to safety, but we must first leave this chamber unseen. Soldiers cross the square below, but their eyes are on the tower where Darcy is holding out. With your god's help they won't notice us go down the steps outside, and then the worst will be behind us. With the help of my gods, they will all be cursed to their deaths. But cause no sound to make their gazes turn, and take care not to trip on the steps. I'll descend first, then signal your moment to follow. No, you fool, you must leave your bundle here," Wickham hissed at Lydia as she reached to get her few things together. "Let it be enough to keep your lives!"

Elizabeth was terrified. Wickham was hardly a person to trust, but she was left with little choice. She was frantic with worry about Darcy, but also realised that she had no knowledge or skills to go help him. She crouched near the door and listened to Wickham's footsteps descend with agonising slowness. Eventually, when Elizabeth peered cautiously through the doorway, she saw torches moving at the far end of the courtyard; but before she could discern clearly what was going on, her attention was drawn by Wickham, standing directly below and signalling frantically.

The staircase, running diagonally down the side of the wall, was mostly in shadow except for one patch, quite near the ground, lit up brightly by the nearly full moon.

"Follow close behind me, Lydia," Elizabeth said. "Don't look across the yard, but keep your eyes on where your foot may find the next step, or it'll be a hard fall and only enemies to come to our aid."

"Is Darcy going to die?"

"Shhh, Lydia! Just follow me quietly." Lydia had voiced the question Elizabeth was too scared. "He's too clever by half to get himself killed here."

Despite her own instructions, Elizabeth could not help glancing across the courtyard as she went down. On the far side, soldiers had gathered around the cylindrical stone tower overlooking the building in which the monks had earlier had their meeting. Blazing torches were being waved, and there appeared to be disorder in their ranks. When Elizabeth was halfway down the steps, two soldiers broke away and came running across the square, and she was sure they would be spotted.

But the men vanished into a doorway, and before long Elizabeth was gratefully ushering Lydia into the shadows of the cloisters where Wickham was waiting. They followed him along narrow corridors, through complete darkness.

Suddenly, Wickham drew his sword, and Elizabeth hear him whisper in harsh tones. "Stop right there; not a word out of you. I will gut you right here, for your brethren to clean up your innards in the morning."

Lydia cowered behind her, and Elizabeth peered over Wickham's shoulder, luckily glimpsing the emaciated monk with long white hair. "Wickham, wait! That monk is a friend! That's Father Ninian."

"There are no friends amongst these people," Wickham muttered, but lowered his sword away from Father Ninian's neck.

"Good father, do you know a way out of here?"

Father Ninian motioned for them to follow him; all the while Wickham kept his sword pressed against Father Ninian's back. Then they came into a chamber whose ceiling had partly fallen away. Moonlight was pouring in, revealing piles of wooden boxes and broken furniture. Elizabeth could smell mould and stagnant water.

Father Ninian gestured for them to go inside, and went into the chamber and started clearing a corner, moving objects aside. He then stopped, and they all saw part of a trap door. He then bowed, and made to leave the chamber when Elizabeth stopped him.

"Father, do you know what happened to Darcy? The shepherd that was with us?"

Father Ninian looked at her, expression inscrutable. He then patted her head, bowed, and exited the chamber.

"Wickham, sir," Elizabeth said, "we're grateful to you for this rescue, but please tell us what's occurred."

Wickham started clearing the corner, to enable them to open the trapdoor fully. He did not look up as he spoke. "I went to Brennus' camp to see what information I could gather; I thought I would hear something to bargain for my freedom from my King, or even Darcy. Instead, I found Sir Bennet being entertained as a favoured guest of Brennus, and soldiers preparing to attack the Saxon warrior and the 'dragon witch'," at this Wickham looked up to motion at Lydia, as if there could be any confusion who was being spoken about.

"I was unable to have the death of both Darcy siblings on my conscience; besides, saving Darcy would all but guarantee my pardon. I believe Sir Bennet came here earlier to warn the abbot, and I also hurried here. However, I got caught myself, and had to slay several soldiers before I was able to steal a horse and come here to warn Darcy. By then the soldiers were already here making their demands; Darcy bade me to leave him and save the two of you and that then my pardon would be secure. Assuming that anyone believes me if Darcy does not survive," Wickham added grimly.

"The soldiers may yet come on our heels, for we left no barred doors behind us. And I trust none of the monks here. Those soldiers do not care for you, but they will surely murder Lydia here on the spot, and a Saxon such as I will be meted out the same punishment. Help me raise this door."

It took the effort of all three of them to raise the door till it stood up at a steep angle before them, revealing a square of deeper blackness.

"Where does that go?" Lydia asked.

"Probably an ancient tunnel," Wickham surmised. "It'll take us either to the river or into the forest, and I care not which. Get in, quickly, both of you."

"What about Darcy?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Surely you don't mean to say that we should just escape, abandoning him here?"

"It's not what I am saying; it's what he asked us to do. And what do you suggest? Out of the two of you, neither have any worthy skills and they want to kill Lydia. Remember, your father plotted the death of Darcy and Lydia; you are a fool to think that there is some easy way out of here."

"But…"

"You must save yourselves and there'll be time later to ponder your father's ways. And if Darcy is mad enough to buy your escape even with his own life, you must grasp it gratefully."

Elizabeth started crying as Wickham's words started sinking in.

"Is Darcy going to die?" Lydia asked again.

"Hopefully not," Wickham said quickly. "Now, Lydia, be a dear and get down there."

"I would rather go to Darcy's aid," Elizabeth said between her tears.

"We might help Darcy yet by making our escape through this tunnel. This is what he explicitly bade!"

As Elizabeth and Wickham argued, a change seemed to come over Lydia. She kept staring at the hole in the floor, and her eyes, caught in the moonlight, seemed to Elizabeth at that moment to have something strange about them, as though she were steadily coming under a spell. Lydia, without warning, walked towards the trap-door and without looking back at them, stepped into the blackness and vanished.

As her footsteps grew fainter, Wickham looked at Elizabeth expectantly. "Looks like Lydia has decided for you."

Left with no choice, Elizabeth went down. The steps leading underground were shallow - flat stones sunk into earth - and felt solid enough. She could briefly see something of the way ahead by the light from the open trap-door above them, until Wickham slammed it shut behind him.

They all three stopped and for a while remained quite still. The air did not feel as stale as Elizabeth had expected; in fact she thought she could feel a faint breeze.

"Give me a moment," Wickham said. Then there came a sharp noise, a striking sound repeating three times, four times. There were bright flashes, then a tiny flame which grew momentarily, then all was darkness again. Wickham tried a second time, and this time the flame stayed steady. "Here," he said to Elizabeth, "You hold the candle, as I need my hands free to draw my sword if needed. We have certainly escaped one nightmare, only to enter another."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no doubting there's soldiers in the monastery, for didn't we see them ourselves just now? I don't see what choice we have but to go on and pray this tunnel brings us safely to the forest. But mark my words, this tunnel is full of danger. The way Lydia is moving ahead of us as if in pursuit, I will wager that this tunnel has carried her kind recently."

"I fear that I don't understand you," Elizabeth said.

"You will, soon enough," Wickham said dourly.

As they went forward, they found there was a feeble light beyond the candle, so that at times they could even make out each other's outlines. There were sudden puddles that surprised their feet, and more than once during this phase of their journey, Elizabeth thought she heard a noise up ahead.

Wickham, clearly unused to silence in company of others, soon started speaking. "Think about this. The monastery was a fort once; Darcy was right about that one. So this tunnel was meant for war, not for praying. The monks are aware of Querig's existence, and yet they do nothing. How do you suppose a dragon has stayed alive and well-fed all this time, with no one being attacked and no sightings? Where does the food come from?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth said, too tired to think.

"The monks!" Wickham exclaimed triumphantly. "The monks are supplying Querig with food, keeping her satiated. Darcy mentioned that most of them are against the slaying of Querig. And doesn't it make you wonder how the knight meant to slay Querig has failed to do so all these years, and yet he lives at this monastery, his other duty being to care for the monks here?"

"My father…"

"Your useless vermin of a father. He knew Lydia was bit by an infant dragon; and he wants her killed for it. By Sunday he may even have convinced himself he saved you from your sister. And the work of whatever prowls this tunnel, should it cross his mind that we travelled through here, he'll disown, or even call god's will. Well, of course something prowls this tunnel…it's too convenient to have this tunnel here, a dragon nearby, and the two not connecting."

"Are we going to run into a dragon here?" Elizabeth asked, aghast.

"If we do, you are on your own," Wickham said plainly. "I agreed to help the two of you escape, I have no ability or desire to go hunt dragons on my own. Darcy really should have thought this through. Or perhaps we should not have followed that monk as you insisted. Britons are not to be trusted, even if they are attired in priestly garb."

"But Wickham," Elizabeth said, "do you really propose we walk further down this tunnel without knowing what we face?"

"What choice have we? The way back has us face instant death at the hands of Brennus' men. There's nothing for it but to go on, and with any luck this tunnel will be free of dragons and beasts. So let's be on our way before this candle burns down, it's the only one I have. Besides, don't you have the amulet with you?"

"The what?"

"Your amulet…the one Lydia said you carried about yourself," Wickham explained.

"My metal token!" Elizabeth had all but forgotten about it, in the chaos of the last several days. Holding the candle forbade her from reaching out for it. "What do you know of it? You were going to explain…"

"That's Darcy's mother's work. I would recognise a description of it anywhere. The inscription is in Ingvaeonic, an old Saxon tongue, now all but forgotten."

"I am not sure I understand you…"

"It's Saxon magic," Wickham said simply, "for those of us who believe in it. Ancient magic now, even by Saxon estimations. She made amulets for all of us – Darcy, Charles, and myself. To protect us from evil. When Lydia described it, I knew immediately that you had somehow stumbled on one of her charms, I thought then likely by theft."

"Darcy gave it to me," Elizabeth said, the memory returning to her unbidden. "Years and years ago, he gave it to me for protection. I laughed then, not believing it to have any power and felt more that it was a token of affection."

"Many Saxons no longer believe in our own magic, but I do. Nothing else explains how I have managed to be alive this far."

Soon, there was no option but to go in single file, the passage remaining narrow, and the ceiling of dangling moss and sinewy roots grew lower and lower until even Lydia had to stoop. Elizabeth did her best to hold the candle high, but the breeze in the tunnel was now stronger, and she was often obliged to lower it and cover the flame with her other hand.

Then Lydia gasped, and they all stopped.

"My foot touched something!"

Elizabeth crouched forward and moved the candle here and there, revealing damp earth, tree roots and stones.

Then the flame illuminated a large bat lying on its back as though peacefully asleep, wings stretched right out. Its fur looked wet and sticky. The pig-like face was hairless, and little puddles had formed in the cavities of the outspread wings. The creature might indeed have been sleeping but for what was on the front of its torso. As Elizabeth brought the flame even closer, they all stared at the circular hole extending from just below the bat's breast down to its belly, taking in parts of the ribcage to either side. The wound was peculiarly clean, as though someone had taken a bite from a crisp apple.

"What could have done work like this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Did you notice the creature's bed?" Wickham asked. "It seemed to me the creature lay on a bed of bones, for I thought I saw a skull or two that could only have belonged to men."

They couldn't investigate Wickham's claim further, as they were interrupted by a noise from further down the tunnel. It was hard to determine how distant or near it had been, but the sound was unmistakably the cry of an animal; it had resembled the howl of a wolf, though there had also been something of the deeper roar of a bear.

The cry had not been prolonged, but it made Lydia grab Elizabeth, and Wickham drew his sword.

For several moments, they remained standing in silence, listening for the sound to return. But nothing further came.

"Come on then," Wickham said. "Perhaps we heard a beast, but we have no choice but to go on. Let's go a little way in the dark, in case our candle hastens the beast our way."

The tunnel became more tortuous, and they moved with greater caution, fearing what each turn would reveal. But they encountered nothing, nor heard the cry again. Then the tunnel descended steeply for a good distance before coming out into a large underground chamber.

They all paused to recover their breaths and look around at their new surroundings. After the long walk with the earth brushing their heads, it was a relief to see the ceiling not only so high above them, but composed of more solid material.

Once Wickham lit the candle again, Elizabeth realised they were in some sort of mausoleum, surrounded by walls bearing traces of murals and Roman letters. Before them a pair of substantial pillars formed a gateway into a further chamber of comparable proportions, and falling across this threshold was an intense pool of moonlight. Its source was not obvious: perhaps somewhere behind the high arch crossing the two pillars there was an opening which at that moment, by sheer chance, was aligned to receive the moon. The light illuminated much of the moss and fungus on the pillars, as well as a section of the next chamber, whose floor appeared to be covered in rubble, but which Elizabeth soon realised was comprised of a vast layer of bones. Only then did it occur to her that under her feet were more broken skeletons, and that this strange floor extended for the entirety of both chambers.

"This must be some ancient burial place," she said aloud. "There are so many buried here."

"The dead are gone," Wickham said dismissively. "I'm more interested in things that will keep us alive. For example, this gateway before us. Look up there, you see it?"

Elizabeth held the candle higher, to reveal along the lower edge of the arch what appeared to be a row of spearheads pointing down to the ground. "A portcullis."

"Exactly. This gate isn't so ancient. Someone has raised it. See there, the ropes that hold it. And there, the pulleys. Someone comes here often to make this gate rise and fall, either to feed the beast, or to catch a meal for Querig." Wickham stepped towards one of the pillars, his feet crunching over bones. "If I cut this rope, the gate will surely come down, it will bar our way out. Yet if the beast's beyond, we'll be shielded from it. Why is Lydia singing?"

Indeed Lydia, back in the shadows, had started to sing; faintly at first, but then her voice had become steadily more conspicuous. Her song seemed to be a slow lullaby.

"She behaves as one bewitched," Wickham said. "In any event, we must now decide. Do we walk on? Or do we cut this rope to give us at least a moment shielded from what lies beyond?"

"I say we cut the rope, sir. We can surely raise the gate again when we wish. Let's first discover what we face while the gate's down."

Wickham took a further step forward, raised his sword and swung at the pillar. There was the sound of metal striking stone, and the lower section of the gate shook, but remained suspended. Wickham sighed with a hint of embarrassment. Then he repositioned himself, raised the sword again, and struck once more.

This time there was a snapping sound, and the gate crashed down raising a cloud of dust in the moonlight. Even Lydia stopped her singing at the sound.

For all that they were now effectively trapped, the lowering of the portcullis brought a sense of relief, and they all began to wander around the mausoleum.

Wickham, who sheathed his sword, went up to the bars and touched them gingerly. "Good iron," he said. "It'll do its work."

Suddenly, Lydia was singing once more, not as loudly as before, but now in a curious posture. She had bent forward, a fist to each temple, and was moving slowly about in the shadows like someone in a dance enacting the part of an animal.

"I told Darcy," Wickham muttered.

"Told him what?"

"That's a dragon bite. A dragon's bite it is, and now the desire will be rising in her blood to seek her own kind. And in turn, any dragon near enough to scent her will come seeking Lydia. With time, and with a full moon…I told Darcy… set Lydia loose in these peaks and she would have led him to Querig. And for this same reason, the monks and these soldiers would have her killed, including her own father."

Elizabeth looked at Wickham. "So when Lydia was hearing mother's voice…"

"She's being called, by Querig. Look, she grows ever wilder!"

Lydia, still singing, pushed past them, and going up to the portcullis pressed herself against the bars.

"Get back," Wickham said, grasping her shoulders. "There's danger here, and that's enough of your songs!"

Lydia gripped the bars with both hands, and for a moment she and Wickham tussled. Then they both broke off and stepped back from the gate. Elizabeth's view was first obscured by them. Then the beast came into the pool of moonlight, and she saw it more clearly.

They might have been gazing at a large skinned animal: an opaque membrane, like the lining of a sheep's stomach, was stretched tightly over the sinews and joints. Swathed as it was now in moon shadow, the beast appeared roughly the size and shape of a bull, but its head was distinctly wolf-like and of a darker hue - though even here the impression was of blackening by flames rather than of naturally dark fur or flesh. The jaws were massive, the eyes reptilian.

"That's not a dragon," Elizabeth said, "not that I have ever seen one. Is that a wolf?"

Wickham, who had immediately drawn his sword again, began to laugh quietly. "Not nearly as bad as I feared," he said, then laughed a little more.

"Yet it bars our way to freedom."

"It does that for sure. So we may stare at it for an hour until the soldiers come down the tunnel behind us. Or we may lift this gate and fight it."

"Its eyes follow Lydia," Elizabeth said quietly.

Lydia, now strangely calm, had been walking experimentally, first left, then to the right, always staring back at the beast whose gaze never left her.

"The creature hungers for her," Wickham said thoughtfully. "It may have been a wolf once, or even a bear. There's dragon spawn within this monster now for certain. I would wager this is the result of a dragon's congress with some other creature, or a monster created after a dragon's bite took over the original animal, whatever it was. It either wants to kill your sister, or mate with her. Those are the only choices here."

Elizabeth would have given anything for Darcy's counsel. "It awaits our next move with strange patience."

"Well, there's only one way forward. Here's what I plan: let Lydia take the candle and go stand there at the back of the chamber. Then you, somehow raise this gate again. It'll take all your strength. The beast will be free to come through. My fancy is it will make straight for Lydia, avoiding us two. Knowing the path of its charge, I'll stand here and cut it down as it passes."

"That's a desperate scheme! If you miss, the beast will kill Lydia, and likely both of us as well."

"Naturally. Yet, it is no risk for me, because sooner or later those soldiers will discover this tunnel, and Lydia and I will be dead for certain. It's only your life they will spare, that the beast will not."

When Wickham put it that way, it left Elizabeth with no choice but to agree.

Lydia grasped Wickham's plan with very few words from him being necessary. Taking the candle from Elizabeth, Lydia walked to the end of the chamber in the shadows. When she turned again, the candle below her face barely trembled, and revealed blazing eyes fixed on the creature beyond the bars.

Elizabeth realised that she couldn't easily reach the rope as she stood on tiptoe to try and reach it.

"Lydia, go crouch and have Elizabeth climb your back," Wickham said. "Elizabeth, try to reach the rope's end. See where it dangles there? When you grab it, let Lydia rush back and try balance on your toes."

At first they nearly toppled over. Then they used the pillar itself to support them, and after a little more groping, Elizabeth grasped the rope. "Lydia, I am going to brace my legs against the pillar; you return to the other side now. Wickham, are you ready, sir?"

"As ready as I will ever be."

"If the beast passes you, then surely it's the end of us."

"I know that. And it will not pass."

Elizabeth wrapped both her legs around the pillar, as she felt Lydia crawl away. As if climbing down a tree, she moved her legs lower, tugging the rope with all of her strength, using all of her body weight.

At first nothing happened, then something yielded, and the gate rose with a shudder. Elizabeth continued tugging, and unable to see the effect, called out "Is it high yet?"

There was a pause before Wickham's voice came back. "The creature stares our way and nothing now between us."

Twisting, Elizabeth looked around the pillar in time to see the beast leap forward. Wickham's face, caught in moonlight, looked fearful as he swung his sword, but too late, and the creature was past him and moving unerringly towards Lydia.

Lydia's eyes grew large, but she did not drop the candle. Instead she moved aside, almost as if out of politeness, to let the beast pass.

And to Elizabeth's surprise, the creature did just that, running on into the blackness of the tunnel out of which not long ago they had all emerged.

Lydia, candle held before her, came over to Wickham, and together they stared down at the ground in fascination.

Elizabeth let the gate fall, and went to what the two of them were staring at.

"Didn't the beast run into the tunnel?" she asked. No one responded.

As Elizabeth came towards them, Wickham and Lydia both started as though shaken from a trance. Then they moved aside and Elizabeth saw the beast's head in the moonlight.

Wickham had in fact not missed, and had severed the creature's head clean from its body.

"The jaws will not cease," Wickham said in a perturbed tone. "I've a mind to take my sword to it again, yet in my country, that would be a desecration, bringing more evil upon us. Yet I wish it would cease moving."

Indeed it was hard to believe the severed head was not a living thing. It lay on its side, the one visible eye gleaming like a sea creature. The jaws moved rhythmically with a strange energy, so that the tongue, flopping amidst the teeth, appeared to stir with life.

"Some of it ran into the tunnel, the body," Lydia said. "And here is its head. Perhaps the rest will be back."

"Now we must hurry on, and with caution too, for who knows what occurs above us, or even if a second beast awaits beyond that chamber," Wickham said. The beast had clearly disturbed him, because all of his previous bravado and swagger was now gone. He pulled the rope down again, and Lydia and Elizabeth crossed to the other side, holding the gate open with all their strength as Wickham let go of the rope and hastily crawled underneath the gate, as the sisters could together manage to only hold it a few feet above ground.

The second chamber of the mausoleum showed clear signs of having served as the beast's lair: amidst the ancient bones were fresher carcasses of sheep and deer, as well as other dark, foul-smelling shapes they could not identify. Then they were once more walking stooped and short of breath along a winding passage. They encountered no more beasts, and eventually they heard birdsong. A patch of light appeared in the distance, and then they came out into the forest, the early dawn all around them.

In a kind of daze, Elizabeth came upon a cluster of roots rising between two large trees, and taking Lydia's hand, helped her sit down on it.

At first Lydia was too short of breath to speak, but after a moment she looked up, saying "I'm thankful we're all well and that evil tunnel's behind us. Wickham, you are my hero! I have never seen anyone so brave!" Lydia sighed contentedly. "We're safe for now, come sit beside me and let's watch the stars fade."

Wickham indeed plopped down next to Lydia, but his expression made clear that he was in no frame of mind to watch the sky. Wickham seemed to have aged years in a matter of hours, and looked utterly shaken and shocked. Looking about in the half-light, Elizabeth spotted Wickham's figure nearby, silhouetted against the dawn, head bowed, a hand on a tree trunk to steady him while he regained his breath. Making it safely out of the tunnel seemed to have put him in a daze.

"We're safe," Lydia emphasized, looking from Wickham to Elizabeth. "Look, the monastery is behind us!"

Elizabeth followed Lydia's pointing, and realised that indeed, they were now in the forest behind the monastery, which she could see in the distance.

"Why are you both so glum?"

Wickham mumbled something, so incoherent that it may have been a language unknown to mankind.

Elizabeth tried to speak, tried to check Lydia's exuberance, but she couldn't. Instead, Elizabeth found herself crying.

At the tears, Lydia seemed to realise something, becoming more sober. "Oh, I forgot…Darcy…do you think…is he dead, do you think?"

She had failed him, Elizabeth thought. She had totally, completely failed Darcy. In a battle, there was no time for elaborate exchanges of information. A swift look, a wave of a hand, a barked word over the noise: that was all true warriors needed to convey their wishes to one another. It had been in such a spirit that Darcy had made his thoughts clear to her, about the history of the monastery, the secret purpose of the tower, the barn, intimated to her the purpose of all that woodcutting…and Elizabeth had let him down utterly.

She should have fought with Wickham, or convinced him otherwise from escaping. They shouldn't have selfishly run away, leaving Darcy to battle all the soldiers and save them.

"We have to go back," Elizabeth declared.

That snapped Wickham to attention. "What?"

Lydia blinked rapidly. "I'm not going back to that awful place! And surely, going back we hurry to nothing but grave danger, and Darcy by now killed or captured. He saved us. I am sorry to see him die, because he saved my life many times, but to go back there is craziness. Let us tell a prayer for him, and head to a village somewhere, anywhere."

"Then I will go back to the monastery. Also, I'm the one person here no one wanted to kill. Someone has to go back and see about Darcy, and it shall be me."

I failed him once, Elizabeth thought, and shall not do so a second time.