The first encounter of the strange type between d'Arcy and Miss Bennet.

Chapter four: Guardian Angels

Rosings, Kent, wednesday, august the fifth 1801

He was remounting when he heard a distant noise.

A woman's scream.

Just afterwards he heard another one. Not the same voice. He was sure.

And not the same intonation. The first spoke of fear, the second of anger and determination.

Then he heard laughter. At least three men laughing.

That was bad news. He had ten thousand men within two miles and there was always a few rascals who were convinced that they would get through with any mischief they launched.

And he did not like the idea that some of his men had taken liberties with the orders he gave. If some of them had forgotten his orders he had quite a few nasty ways to remind them of their duties.

He took the general direction of the shouts and laughters.

Charlotte was cursing like never before.

What a fool she had been to believe that the way between Hunsford and Rosings would be safe.

She should have known better. But with the soldiers storming Hunsford and arresting her William she could only think of Rosings and Lady de Bourgh. If someone could help, it would be her.

She knew everything about everybody. She would help.

Surely...

With so many soldiers roaming the countryside, she had been sure that everyone would have been hiding. And Jane wouldn't let her go alone and both their sisters were too afraid to stay at Hunsford alone.

So they went, four women alone on a track of two miles.

And then she saw them, hiding in the woods probably looking for some roguery to do while the French were here to take the blame.

And they saw them and immediately stormed out of their hiding place to corner them against a group of trees.

Without her the other three could have fled but when Jane chose to stay and to fight, her sister and Maria stayed also.

And now they were surrounded.

Obadiah Wilkins, the first one to come close got Jane's staff around the face and he was now trying to stop the blood flowing of his wounded scalp.

Jane hadn't pondered a second. He came near enough and she stroked. With all the might she could muster.

Surprised, he ad been unable to dodge or block the blow.

Unluckily for them, the blow was not strong enough to make him pass out.

He was, in a way of speaking, out of the fight but four of them remained and what had happened to Wilkins was clearly not enough to convince them to retreat.

Luckily, what happened to Wilkins did not make the remaining men angry.

They laughed at his ordeal and caustic remarks were raining upon him.

After all, he could have waited to be under the protection of Crabbs' Blunderbuss. With the gun under her nose, she would probably have yielded without even trying to strike.

So it was his fault and they found his misfortune more than funny.

He made the distance in less than a minute. And stopped.

There were five of them. Not soldiers. Probably English ragtag in search of an opportunity to have fun while blaming his men.

He looked at the crime scene and assessed his chances.

Ragtag, not a problem for any real soldier. No problem for him. Even if they all had guns.

Didn't seem so. Only one gun could be seen.

One of them was holding a blunderbuss, a dangerous looking gun with an ugly open barrel. Not a very subtle weapon but very dangerous at close range.

Barrel which was pointed toward a group of four women.

One was pregnant and holding her belly while leaning against a tree.

Just before her stood a pair of girls, one blond, one brown.

And a few inches before everybody, holding --very badly-- a staff, stood a blond haired warrior who was scrutinizing the five rascals with fiery eyes and a jaw set for a fight.

D'Arcy could only admire the young woman. She knew, evidently, nothing about weapon handling but she was a natural and one of her aggressors had already got a feeling of her staff handling.

And he could see in her eyes that she had perfectly assessed the situation.

Those men would show no mercy. Not with French soldiers to get the blame for their actions in the vicinity.

But she would not go down without a fight.

At this precise moment he decided that she would not go down at all.

Slowly, without even making the hint of a noise, he began to creep up behind them.

Charlotte was desperate but she was not out of her mind. She never lost sight of their surroundings and her eyes were seeing everything happening around them.

She saw the shadow coming out of the woods and creeping toward them.

He was shedding his hat and his --red-- coat and was approaching as silently as a shadow. Without his red coat she would probably not have noticed his approach.

Now, in gray and brown, he was blending into the shadows of the landscape.

Their eye met and he smiled at her.

A shiver climbed down her spine. It was the smile of a predator and she could see in his eyes that he was longing for the kill.

Would tigers smile, they would probably smile like that when crouching toward their prey.

She nevertheless thanked God for sending help. God knew what they needed and what he sent was what would be of use to them.

Reassured, she went back to the scene before her.

Jane was focused on the men surrounding them.

Each of their move was followed by her staff. She couldn't cover everyone of them but she did as best she could.

Charlotte was rather astonished by Jane's reaction. Never in her whole life has she seen her best friend's sister react in an unwomanly fashion.

Never would she have imagined seeing protective, caring and delicate Jane standing up against five determined men.

But clearly there were facets of Jane Bennet she never had had the opportunity to notice.

Crabbs, feeling his amusement about Wilkins misfortune fade, was becoming angrier by the moment.

Sure, his Blunderbuss should have been enough to compel these lovely lassies into submission. But, the blond at the front was, clearly, not ready to give in.

Time to bring in some nasty threats.

"Times are a changing, Ladies. The Froggies have come and they are arresting and deporting the men of the Gentry. You are alone and defenseless. Time to find new protectors".

"We'd be perfect for such a role", said Watts an sailor come inland to escape Navy's Press-gangs. "Handsome, strong and clever..."

He was only one of a lot who fled the coastal areas to avoid being caught and forced onto a ship of His Majesty George the Third. Now that war has, once more, been declared against France, a Navy's ship was no longer a safe haven to grow old.

And battle at sea tend to promote ugly injuries and sudden deaths.

Drummont couldn't stay put and made a few raunchy comments about his manhood.

As usual, Wilkins not included --he was still heavily bleeding-- the rogues burst out in laughter.

He was now a few yards behind them.

They were focused on their prey and had no idea he was there ready to jump them.

He could see that he Ladies were in no immediate danger. The filth he was looking at had no real desire to be hurt once more. They would threaten a bit more and, in the end, try to disarm the blond staff carrier.

They could not and would not fire.

Not with ten thousand nervous French troopers not a mile away.

But accidents occur and one of those could very probably end with the handsome young Lady with the staff cut in half by an unlucky shot.

One of the men tried to approach and the staff bearer turned to face him. Her staff flew forward and the man dodged the blow with his hand and the impact made d'Arcy's teeth grit.

For the first time Geoffroy d'Arcy got a real sight of her.

Handsome was not enough a word.

She was everything he lusted for in his Asian years. Fair, blond, beautiful and blue eyed. And resolute, focused and devoted. The perfect woman to join him in his quest.

He stood there as thunderstruck.

Never ever had a girl had such an effect on him.

He was just daydreaming when one of the men got hold of her staff.

He was about to jump into the fray when he saw the villain jump back his hands covering his groin.

Yeah, go on, show them that you're not to be bullied.

He was quite glad that she was able to stop the last attempt without his help.

He wanted to intervene but he wanted it to be a grand entrée.

A show able to impress her once and for all.

He would jump them, but not from behind.

He would let them know there was a real foe to fight.

He felt that she would appreciate it if he gave them a fighting chance.

A moment he was tempted to went in without any weapon.

But reason caught on.

The Blunderbuss was a nasty and dangerous weapon. It could be fired by accident and nobody could predict what would be hit.

No, swordsmanship it would be.

The kick to the groin was seen as funny by those who didn't get kicked and new laughter had erupted in the group.

But it didn't last. The Blunderbuss bearer walked out of the group and directed the barrel of his rifle in the general direction of the pregnant woman.

"Enough of that", said he. "Either you let fall the staff or I'm going to shoot mummy there the whole load in the belly. In her state, it's sure she wouldn't be a lot of fun, would she now? Do I make myself clearly understood?"

The blond shot him a look of pure spite.

"And when your gun is empty, I'll pop your eyes out of your sockets. And you'd be the lucky one, since you'll be spared the look of the thousand Frenchmen encamped around us gathering here to see what's happening. I wonder what they would think of five villains like you trying to make mischief while they are around..."

D'Arcy found another reason to like her. Not only was she beautiful and courageous and devoted, she was also clever. Not every time the best combination in a woman, but for this d'Arcy the best could only be just enough.

Time to put an end to the show.

"And, if you allow me to be so blunt, the real danger is behind you..."

All five of the rascals jumped out of their skin and immediately turned around in quite a comical manner.

A second after his address, nine pairs of eyes were looking at him.

He couldn't resist.

He bowed.

Jane was sure. A second before, there was nobody at the place she was now looking at.

And now there stood a man.

Tall, brawny, blue eyed and with long brown hair, leaning confidently on a scabbarded longsword.

And, she was sure of it, he was flashing at her the most shameless grin she had ever witnessed.

There was havoc within the band of goons.

They had no idea what to do and had a few difficulties to choose between outright escape, facing the new threat and assaulting their prey.

Finally they decided to face him.

With two guns.

The Blunderbuss and a pistol the head injured rascal was holding with the hand not clasp again the head injury.

They stopped going everywhere and, finally, found where to stay.

D'Arcy began to visualize the way he would have to walk to dispose of the most dangerous threats.

Time to increase the odds.

"Please Ladies, I do believe these gentlemen will no longer have the leisure to harass you. If I could be so bolt as to invite you to go on and walk toward Rosings at your best speed?"

"Never," said the pistol bearer. "You all stay where you are. The first who makes a step is dead."

And, in order to give his threat some bone, he turned his pistol toward his former prey.

Perfect, one immediate threat out of the way... Time to show-off.

Jane, her eyes on Wilkins who was threatening her, only saw a blur of movement coming toward her. She heard a hissing sound followed by a whistling, a poking sound, another whistling, this time followed by a crunch.

And Wilkins' hand just fall to the ground, still holding the pistol. And when she lifted her eyes from the severed hand she saw the stump of the arm spitting blood in her direction.

Her mind seemed to hesitate a fraction of a second and then everything went dark.

Wilkins, wide eyed and open mouthed could not detach his eyes from his hand.

His hand, still holding his pistol, lying on the ground one yard from his feet. He howled like a madman, took hold of his blood sputtering stump and began to run as fast as he could. The fact that Crabbs' empty eyes had been looking at him from the ground had not been good for his sanity.

D'Arcy's second movement brought him between the Ladies and what remained of the attackers. With one swift kick, he sent the severed head under a scrub and even before the blond could reach the ground, he was able to catch her. Slowly he let her slip to the ground, while, all the time looking at the three surviving bandits. He had still his sword in his left hand and his eyes were as cold as the steel of his weapon.

They had no problem getting his message.

Very slowly they opened their hands and forks, staffs and knifes fell to the ground.

"Please, make yourself scarce," said d'Arcy, "and do not stop running away for a very long time. I would be very angry if I ever see your ugly faces again. And I tend to overreact when I'm angry."

They didn't need a more precise invitation.

They disappeared in the woods without delay.

D'Arcy cleaned his sword, sheated it, throw the blooded handkerchief over the severed hand and dismantled both guns before looking at the three remaining upright Ladies.

"Sorry for the mess, but I believe speed was of the essence. Even in the hands of idiots, guns and rifles can be deadly weapons. I could not take the risk of one of you taking a stray bullet."

Finally, he knelt at the blond's side and put his fingers again her throat. He felt her pulse. Clear and strong! A smile brightened his face.

"She's only passed out. She'll soon be back with us."

He looked at the future mother whose age gave her authority over the little group of girls and women.

"May I have your authorization to carry her to the Manor house? I fear my unbecomingly behavior was the reason for her fainting. And I do believe we should be moving."

Charlotte made a curtsy in his direction.

"We would be very glad, Sir. And we are in your debt for the welcome help you saw fit to provide us. We were in a dire situation".

"You had your own Guardian Angel," said d'Arcy with a smile. "I'm sure she would have fought them to the end."

Charlotte acknowledged his compliment in the name of Jane and looked toward the bloodied handkerchief and the now invisible head.

"They would have..."

She could not be more precise it in front of her sister and Mary. He just nodded.

"It happens every time that some people choose to seize every opportunity in a difficult period. Happily I heard you shout. I came immediately."

He slipped his arms under her knees and her back and stood up with her in his arms.

With his chin he pointed toward his coat and hat lying not very far away beside a tree.

"Could someone get my things? They are still of use and I'd hate to see them stolen."

As the black haired girl walked just in the right direction, he thanked her with a nod.

He didn't try to see their reaction to his coat and headgear. Perhaps they would fail to recognize what the symbols meant.

Next chapter : Tête à tête