Chapter 3
Elizabeth looked into the handsome visage of Wickham, made even more so by the red uniform he wore.
"I have never been so relieved to see anyone in my life!" she cried. "Something dreadful has happened."
Wickham stared at her in confusion, then looked around the room before returning his gaze. His normally carefree face had tightened, and he gave her a harsh look. "Did you not drink the tea?"
She gasped and stepped back from the fierce intensity on his face, then shook her head. The faint dizziness she had felt earlier returned, causing her brain to feel foggy. "Th-th-the tea?" she stammered.
"Yes, the tea. Miss Bingley added quite a bit of laudanum to it. Did you not drink it?"
"I-I-I … Well, yes, I did, but why would she do that?"
"Because she wanted everyone to be unaware of the compromise she was about to put into motion. How on earth are you still awake if you drank it?"
Understanding finally dawned on Elizabeth. "Laudanum has never worked for me. Most tinctures and teas don't. Even when I had a broken leg as a child, it took four times the regular dose of an adult's for me to get any relief from the pain."
Wickham's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. "Well, that does present quite a problem."
"How do you mean?" she asked, fear trickling into her mind through the fog.
Letting out a great sigh, Wickham shook his head and said, "You see, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bingley greatly desires to marry my old friend. She will resort to any means necessary, including compromise. Of course, Darcy is of such a resentful nature that any blame cannot be allowed to be placed back on the lady. She is willing to share half her pin money with me once she is married. All we needed to do was put everyone to sleep, then allow servants to discover Darcy and Miss Bingley in her bedroom, unclothed. Of course, seeing how everyone else was asleep, an accident with the tea will be to blame."
Elizabeth gaped at Wickham's matter-of-fact explanation. "You would ruin Mr. Darcy's life all for monetary gain? Did you not tell me that you felt so much love for your godfather you could never betray the son?"
Wickham gave a burst of laughter. "Oh, you poor, foolish girl," he said in a mocking tone. "I had thought you cleverer than that."
His face changed into one of hatred as he bared his teeth. "I have long since wished to have my revenge on Darcy, and now I shall have it. Nothing can stop me!"
Looking over at her, he gave her a wolfish grin. "Of course we'll have to do something about the fact that you are still awake. I cannot have you ruining everything."
Elizabeth's heart clenched with fear, and she looked around desperately as Wickham stalked towards her. "Come now, Miss Elizabeth," he cajoled. "If you don't fight me, I promise to make this quick and painless."
The gleam in his eyes told her otherwise. When he reached out to grasp her arms, she kicked him. Years of roaming Hertfordshire as a child with the Lucas and Goulding boys had taught her much about the more sensitive parts of a male's anatomy.
Wickham let out a curse as he collapsed to his knees, cupping himself between the legs. "You little—"
Elizabeth did not wait to hear the foul word he was about to say. She ran for the open door, flew down the hallway, and made a beeline for the front entrance. She looked around desperately for a servant as she ran, but the house was strangely silent.
Making a quick decision, she bolted out of Netherfield's main door and flew down the steps. She could hear frantic footsteps behind her, accompanied by oaths mingled with grunts of pain. "I swear, you stupid chit, you will pay for this!"
Elizabeth looked around frantically. The paths to the sides of the house were lined with hedgerows whereas the road to the stables was completely open. Not knowing what had happened to any servants, Elizabeth determined her best chance would be to hide before Wickham could get outside and see the direction she had taken. She took a bracing gulp of air, then pushed herself into the bushes.
The hedges pulled at her dress, but she tugged until she was all the way hidden amongst the branches. Forcing herself to take deep, quiet breaths, she turned around to ensure she was far enough back to be hidden. She arranged a few of the thicker bundles of leaves to wrap in front of her, further concealing herself.
Elizabeth could hear boots coming along the gravel walk, and she held her breath, only daring to allow the faintest of wisps to come in and out of her mouth. Her lungs burned, but she refused to give them what they so desperately craved.
Wickham shouted her name several times, yelling in vexation. Finally, he stomped away and took the path towards the stables. Grateful she had chosen to avoid that route, she sat silently for several long minutes.
Just as she had determined to leave the shrubbery, she heard a carriage. With trembling hands, she brushed aside a branch to see out. She held her breath, half-expecting Wickham's wild eyes peering back at her.
To her tremendous relief, Wickham was not directly in front of her. In fact, he was in front of Netherfield, inexpertly driving her father's carriage! He pulled to a stop at the door, then descended from his perch and ran inside. Minutes later, he returned, carrying a limp Miss Bingley in his arms.
Elizabeth pressed her hands tightly against her mouth, fighting back a cry of alarm at seeing the unconscious woman being roughly shoved into the carriage. Wickham then ran back inside. Elizabeth debated whether to risk going to Miss Bingley's aid, but Wickham's loud footsteps moments later made her grateful she'd remained hidden.
The soldier exited the manor, although he was no longer dressed in the red coat of the militia. Instead, he wore a black coat that Elizabeth recognized as Darcy's. In his arms, Wickham carried several pieces of fine silver, jewels, and a coin purse. These were dumped unceremoniously on top of Miss Bingley's prone body on the floor of the carriage. He took a moment to use a white cloth to bind the limp woman's hands together before shutting the door.
Watching helplessly, Elizabeth couldn't help but bite back a cry as Wickham leaped back into the driver's seat of the Longbourn carriage. Blood from her lip mingled with tears flowing down her face as she watched her father's carriage disappear from view.
Elizabeth stared at the empty drive, completely lost to time, unaware of the drizzle that came from the clouds. It wasn't until a freezing rain fell in earnest and she began shivering that she came to herself. She ran into the building, barely aware of her dripping gown and soaked shoes. A glance into the drawing room showed everyone to be in their same positions, with the exception of Darcy, who had been rolled over, his coat and cravat removed.
That must be what Mr. Wickham used to tie Miss Bingley's hands, she thought absentmindedly.
Elizabeth had little desire to enter the room, so she ran towards the hall leading to the servants' staircase. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone here? Please, help me!" she cried as she ran.
She reached a narrow set of stairs and quickly made her way down them, continuing her calls. Just as she was about to despair, a door flew open, and the Netherfield housekeeper exited her office.
"Who on earth is causing such a fuss?" the elderly woman demanded harshly before realizing who was in front of her. "Miss Elizabeth," she gasped in horror. "What on earth?"
"Please, you must help me! He's drugged them all and kidnapped Miss Bingley!"