A Perilous Match

Chapter 28

Two Months Later

On Route To Dorset

T he early morning sun painted the countryside in a soft, golden glow as Darcy and Elizabeth’s carriage rumbled along a country road. They had departed from their inn at an early hour, eager to complete the final leg of their three-day journey from Longbourn to Ashburn Court.

The short visit to Hertfordshire had been a joyful one—Jane’s engagement to Bingley had been celebrated with much excitement by the entire family, and seeing Georgiana mingle with the Bennet sisters had been a delight. His sister needed the company of young ladies her own age, and although he did think the younger Bennets a trifle silly, their hearts were in the right place.

“Bingley’s proposal has brought so much joy to Jane,” Darcy remarked, his hand resting gently over Elizabeth’s. “It is clear that she will be contented with him.”

Elizabeth nodded, her smile softening with affection. “Yes, it has been a long time coming, but worth every moment. Jane deserves nothing less. I only hope Colonel Fitzwilliam will not be too downcast. Though he accepted her refusal with grace, I know he conceals his feelings well. The Fitzwilliams are wont to do that.”

Darcy sighed, “Indeed, he has a tendency to fall in love easily. In that respect, he and Wickham are more alike than I ever cared to admit.”

Elizabeth looked at him with surprise, tilting her head slightly. “Wickham? In what way?”

A pensive expression crossed Darcy’s face. “Both have always been drawn to the idea of romance, of love at first sight. But while Richard’s affections are honourable, Wickham has often used his charm for more selfish ends. Yet, despite all that has transpired, I must acknowledge a change in him. He has written to me, you know.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “He has? What did he say?”

Darcy’s voice softened. “He wrote to inform me that he lost Phillip’s trail in Devon, but he has not given up. He is searching the London area now, while Richard has returned to Ashburn.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. “I can scarcely believe it. After all that has passed between you…”

Darcy met her gaze, “I cannot forgive him entirely for what he did to Georgiana, but I believe he is genuinely remorseful. He told me that hearing her cry when I confronted him that day changed something in him. He realised the full weight of his actions, and for the first time, I think he truly regrets them. Perhaps it is what set him on the path to redemption. It might even have been what made him reconsider when he was sent to cut my saddle strap.”

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “You have a generous heart, Fitzwilliam. It is not easy to extend mercy to someone who has wronged you so deeply.”

Darcy shook his head slightly, a rueful smile playing on his lips. “I have learnt that holding onto anger only deepens the wounds. Wickham is no longer an enemy—he is someone seeking redemption, as we all are in our own ways.”

***

The carriage continued its journey, morning turning into evening and then into night. They had intended to reach a posting inn by nightfall but had decided to press on, both eager to return to Ashburn Court.

But as they rounded a bend in the road, the peace was abruptly shattered. The carriage came to a sudden halt, the jolt throwing them both against their seats. Darcy immediately tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for Elizabeth’s.

“Stay inside,” he commanded, his voice low but urgent. Shouts could be heard from outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of horses rearing in distress.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm as she clutched his arm. “Fitzwilliam, what is happening?”

Before he could respond, the carriage door was wrenched open with a force that nearly tore it from its hinges. A rough voice barked at them, “Out! Now!”

Darcy’s heart pounded as he took in the sight before him. Three masked bandits surrounded the carriage, their weapons glinting menacingly in the dim light. The leader, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, brandished a pistol and gestured for them to step out.

Darcy’s mind raced as he assessed the situation. A pistol was kept in the carriage for just such an occasion, and Darcy knew he needed to act swiftly.

“Take what you want,” Darcy said evenly, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within him. “But leave the lady alone.”

The leader sneered, clearly revelling in the power he held. “You’re in no position to make demands, my lord,” he spat, his eyes gleaming with malice. He grabbed Elizabeth and tore her out of the carriage, causing her to stumble and fall.

“Elizabeth!” he bellowed as he saw her fall. The leader sneered and motioned for one of his men to grab her, then he approached Darcy. He had to act. Now. Without thinking, he planted a facer on the man. “How dare you!” Darcy shouted. While the bandit was temporarily stunned he swiftly entered the carriage, pulled up the cushioned seat, and grabbed the loaded gun.

Darcy leaped out, brandishing the weapon.

As he emerged, he was ready. Just as one of the younger bandits lunged towards Elizabeth, Darcy raised the pistol and fired. The shot rang out, and the bandit fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder in agony.

“Hastings, the seat,” Darcy called and glanced at the coachman who sat beside the groom on the box seat with his hands raised. The young groom gave a nod and leaped off the box seat, knocking down the man who’d been holding them up. The weapon the bandit had been holding fired, but missed—Darcy knew it was difficult to hit moving targets, as did the groom. The bandit was thrown to the ground, allowing the coachman to grapple for his weapon.

Hastings climbed down while the third bandit made for Elizabeth, who sat on the ground dazed and with blood trickling from her lip.

The leader, who’d displayed such bravado moments before, crawled on his hands and knees after his dropped weapon while the groom had control of the man at the front. However, the third man who was significantly younger than the others, had grabbed Elizabeth, despite having suffered a bullet wound.

“Let me go,” he called. “Or I shoot her!” he said, his hand shaking so hard Darcy feared he might shoot her on accident.

“Coward, shoot them all,” the leader called while Darcy and Hastings stood, both unsure what to do.

“Let her go,” Darcy called, “And you can go.”

“Shoot her! That was the order!” the leader called.

Darcy’s stomach dropped. The man hadn’t said, ‘that is an order. He had said that was the order. They had orders, someone had planned this ambush. With blank horror it occurred to him that these men were likely sent by Phillip. He trained his weapon at the leader.

“Is this worth whatever my cousin paid you?” The man flinched and Darcy knew his suspicion had been true. “He won’t pay you unless you do what he ordered you, and you already failed. Call off your men, or you shall not live to see another dawn,” Darcy growled, his voice cold and unyielding.

“I am no coward, I do not take orders from the likes of you. Out here, our rules apply,” he said. “Frank, take her.”

The young man stood, shaking but then to Darcy’s horror, he grabbed Elizabeth by the hair with his free hand and dragged her towards the hedgerow.

“I can shoot him, I have good aim,” Hastings called. Knowing there was no other choice, Darcy nodded at the coachman—whom he knew to be a former member of the Royal Army—and the man took a shot, aiming for the bandit’s leg.

A blood curdling scream came as the man went down, now shot in the shoulder and the leg. However, as he went down, Elizabeth lost her footing, and tumbled forwards hitting her head on a tree.

“Elizabeth,” he called, his voice strained. Darcy pulled Elizabeth into his arms, cradling her close, there was a cut on her head which bled profusely. She looked ashen and confused.

“Fitzwilliam, I feel… unwell. The world is… turning,” she muttered and fell unconscious in his arms.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Wake up, please.”

“My lord,” the coachman said, his voice laced with worry, “we must get you back to Ashburn Court. You need a physician at once. Get her ladyship inside the carriage. We will tie up these men and send for the constable to collect them. We have enough rope for all three of them.”

“I will guard them,” the groom said and held up three pistols. “I am armed well enough now, thanks to these three.”

“Collect the discarded one the leader dropped,” Hastings said and the two set about their task while Darcy carried Elizabeth into the carriage. He sat and stretched her out across the bench, her head resting in his lap. He pressed a handkerchief against her head wound feeling helpless.

After what felt like an eternity the vehicle set into motion again and they rushed towards Ashburn, a couple of hours distance away through mostly nothing but forest. There was not a town nearby they could stop at for care and at least at Ashburn, they could summon their physician with haste.

By the time they reached Ashburn Court, the sky had darkened, and a cold wind had begun to blow. The household was in an uproar as the injured party was brought inside. Servants rushed to fetch hot water and blankets, while the best local physician was summoned with all haste.

Amidst the chaos, Richard hurried from his chambers.

“What in the world has happened?”

“We were attacked on the road from Salisbury by Phillip’s hired hands, they are tied up by the roadside with my groom who is guarding them. Please, fetch the constable and get them. They are two hours north, Hastings can direct you,” he called as he carried Elizabeth into the house where he placed her in her bed and then paced the room to wait for the physician.