E lizabeth waved after Jane and Georgiana’s carriage, both sad to see them leave and glad to know it was for good reason. Jane had chosen to return to Hertfordshire to reunite with Mr Bingley, who’d sent an enthusiastic express with an invitation to both her and Georgiana the day before.
After hearing the news regarding Phillip and Mr Wickham, Mr Bingley hadn’t hesitated to invite Georgiana along as well, to get her out of harm’s way.
Having seen the carriage off from the posting house, Elizabeth felt a pang of solitude, though her spirits were buoyed by the thought of returning to her husband. The last few days might have been fraught with strain because of their discoveries, but also with a sense of joy. At last, she and Fitzwilliam were a couple in spirit, heart, and body as well as on paper—and she could not be happier.
“Lady Dorset, shall we return?” her lady’s maid, Mabel, asked but Elizabeth shook her head.
“I have a mind to look at the water for a little. Would you mind stopping at the milliner’s to collect my new hat?” Elizabeth asked.
Then, she walked the brief distance to the water and inhaled the fresh air. Dorset was quite a beautiful county and the more time she spent at Ashburn Court, the more at home she felt. The village gave way to the rugged beauty of the shore, where the waves rolled gently onto the pebbled beach. She relished the peace as she breathed in the crisp sea air, her heart momentarily lightened by the tranquillity. It was early, adding to the quiet and peace as the beach was empty as yet.
But the calm was abruptly shattered. As she turned to continue her exploration, a strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her back with alarming force. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cry of alarm. Panic surged through her as she struggled fiercely, her heart pounding furiously.
Just when she feared she might lose consciousness, the sound of hurried footsteps reached her ears—someone was rushing towards them. The next moments were a blur. Her attacker was wrenched away, and Elizabeth stumbled forward, gasping for breath. Her saviour, a robust man with a determined expression, engaged the assailant in a fierce struggle. With a powerful blow, the attacker was sent reeling and fled down the shore, disappearing into the distance.
Breathing heavily, Elizabeth turned to her rescuer, only to be struck dumb with disbelief as his features came into focus. The man was none other than George Wickham. Her relief quickly turned to a tumult of emotions—shock, confusion, and deep mistrust.
“Mr Wickham?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”
Mr Wickham raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his face earnest. “Lady Dorset, I know this must be shocking, but please, you must listen. I’ve been following you—”
“Following me?” she interrupted, her fear and anger palpable. “Why?”
“Because you are in danger,” he said urgently. “I have come to warn you. There is something you do not know—about Phillip.”
Elizabeth’s confusion deepened. “Phillip? What does he have to do with this? What is going on?”
Mr Wickham glanced around nervously. “Everything I said at the temple, everything about my feelings for you—it was all a lie. I was paid to deceive you.”
Elizabeth recoiled in disbelief. “Paid? By whom? And why would you do such a thing?”
“By Phillip,” Mr Wickham admitted, regret evident in his voice. “He wanted to drive a wedge between you and Da- Lord Dorset. He thought that if you believed I had feelings for you, I might be able to tempt you away, thus ruining your marriage. Or at least causing it strain. Phillip offered me a substantial sum to do it.”
Elizabeth’s mind reeled. “So, everything you said—it was a deception?”
Mr Wickham nodded. “I thought it was just another scheme. But now I see Phillip’s plans are far more sinister. When I told him I failed and that you appear thoroughly enamoured of Lord Dorset, he grew enraged and told me he would have you dealt with.” He nodded at the man who’d run away.
“He sent this rogue?” she asked, alarmed.
“And the one who came after your husband in London,” he confirmed. “You see, Phillip wants the estate and title. He has been plotting against him for months, and he will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. You must help me. I must speak to Lord Dorset. I must tell him everything.”
Elizabeth’s thoughts raced. “Why should I trust you now?”
Mr Wickham’s gaze softened. “Because I owe it to you and him. I may be a scoundrel, but I do not want his death on my conscience. If you inspect his saddle, you’ll find it cut. I was sent to do it, though I changed my mind as I was in the middle of it. I hate your husband, I do. But I was very fond of his father and I suppose there is still some sort of good in me for I could not do it. Phillip is furious with me.”
Elizabeth stared at him, torn between disbelief and the unsettling notion that he might be telling the truth. “I need to know everything. Why did you do this? Why did he hire you?”
Wickham nodded. “I will tell you all on the way. But first, we must get to Ashburn Court. There is no time to lose. None of you are safe here. I will tell you everything on the way. Come, let us fetch your maid—I do not expect you to travel alone with me.”
With a heavy heart and questions swirling in her mind, Elizabeth allowed Mr Wickham to guide her back to the village. The peaceful sea, once so inviting, now felt like a place of hidden dangers. As they moved, the weight of Mr Wickham’s revelations pressed heavily upon her, each step taking her closer to Fitzwilliam and the truth that awaited.