“Elizabeth,” Georgiana’s soft voice came from the other side of the screen.“Fitzwilliam sent me to help.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and reached for her chemise. “I will be out in a moment, Georgiana.”
Wickham crawled through the window on Edward Street. He could not stay there for long, but it would be a day or two before Darcy would come; and Wickham knew, at last, Darcy would come. The man would no longer accept Wickham’s intrusions without a response. Since Darcy had connected with Elizabeth Bennet, the man was uncannily lucky.That day, Darcy and his new wife had worked in tandem to defeat poor Amelia and seriously weaken him.
Elizabeth Darcy’s mumblings had seemed to be nonsense until her last pronouncement had sent him flying through the air like a kite caught by a swift breeze. How in the name of all that is evil did she know what to say? Even he had not known a reversal would have such a profound effect! Wickham laughed bitterly at the irony. Are the fortunes of Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy intermingled with my own, our destinies intertwined? He snorted at the distasteful thought.
Wickham settled himself in the room in which he had previously slept.The bullet Darcy had fired had lodged in his shoulder, but the rejuvenating powder of his father’s ashes and the earth from his homeland would heal that wound quickly. Fortunately, Elizabeth Darcy’s incantation had sent him sliding down the wall before Darcy fired. If his enemy had taken the time to aim at his heart, he might have suffered a different outcome.
Lying back on the bed,Wickham contemplated his next move. He had to find a way to stop Elizabeth Darcy’s influence over her husband.What could he do to make her turn against the man she had married? What could he do to force Elizabeth Darcy to either turn from the man or, at a minimum, refuse to help him any longer? Wickham’s success depended on his separating the Darcys. Together, they were too powerful.
As he closed his eyes and welcomed a restorative sleep, his mind filled with images of the past few weeks. Suddenly, an idea surfaced—one so brilliant that he congratulated himself on it. He was still an officer in the militia—a very agreeable young officer, by all not love Elizabeth Bennet, but married her only because his presence in the same room with her threatened her good reputation.
Such thoughts allowed Wickham to relax. It would be easier to drive them apart if Darcy had married Elizabeth Bennet out of duty, rather than out of love. Their union simply needed a reason for a withdrawal.Taking one of Mrs. Darcy’s sisters as a replacement for Amelia Younge could be the perfect revenge on Elizabeth Darcy for her interference with his mission; plus, it was an inventive way to deny Fitzwilliam Darcy the one thing he most needed: his wife.Wickham had made his decision—he would travel to Meryton on the morrow.
Elizabeth and Georgiana joined Darcy in the sitting room; Darcy ordered fresh tea, and then they were alone.They sat in silence for several uncomfortable minutes before Darcy found his voice. “We need to discuss what happened today.”
“I do not think I can,” Georgiana protested.
Elizabeth moved to the mahogany desk. “Of course, you can, Georgiana,” she asserted as she took the chair behind it. “There is but one way to end this madness, and that is to consult together. I am more determined than ever to finish what we began.” She took out several sheets of paper from the drawer and prepared her pen. “I propose we organize what we know about George Wickham—what works and what does not work against the wretched fiend.”
“Please start with your thoughts, Elizabeth.” Darcy stood to pace. He thought best on his feet.“How did the two of you come
Elizabeth looked imploringly at Georgiana, and Darcy’s sister reluctantly began her tale of injuring her foot and of Wickham’s abduction.“I am sorry I did not react when he first appeared; I am helpless.”Tears formed in the girl’s eyes.
“You are not helpless!” Elizabeth declared vehemently.“You are young.And you did what was necessary to survive.”
“Your courage, Elizabeth, gave me hope.”
Elizabeth shot a furtive glance at Darcy.“That was not courage, Georgiana.That was faith in your brother’s protection.”
“How did you know Fitzwilliam was there?You could not have seen him from where you stood.”
“I knew,” Elizabeth said softly. “I knew your brother would come for us, and I sensed his presence.We have a deep connection. I have no other way of explaining it.”
Darcy cleared his throat self-consciously. “In the alleyway… what was that you chanted?” he asked.
“Georgiana and I visited the same bookstore that I was at the other day. We found several books dealing with spiritualism and with Celtic tales. One mentioned saying the vampire’s name backwards. I was desperate for ways to stall until you arrived, so I tried it. When I reversed the name George Wickham, nothing happened. Finally, I remembered that name was not his real name.” Elizabeth recorded something on the paper as she spoke.
“What are you writing?” Georgiana asked curiously.
Elizabeth looked up from her task. “I want to write down everything that seems pertinent to Wickham.We can add information found in the books.That way, maybe we can solve the puzzle of how to defeat him.”
“Then add the iron cross,” Georgiana said, brightening.
“The iron retards Wickham’s efforts,” Elizabeth observed,“but it does not stop him or kill him.”
Georgiana thought aloud, “Was that why you begged me to also believe in Fitzwilliam and in you?”
“I suspect the power of the crucifix lies mostly in our belief—
Stunned by his wife’s analysis, Darcy paused in his pacing. “If what you say is true, then we must discover what Wickham believes in.Your theory makes sense; two hundred years ago, Christian ideas readily mixed with tales of the supernatural.Why did I not see that before? Elizabeth, you are brilliant.”
Elizabeth’s eyes softened. “I do believe we previously approached this the wrong way.” Elizabeth’s voice held her anticipation. “If we discover what protects Wickham, we can use it against him.”
“Was there anything else in the books we should note?” Darcy leaned over the desk, as caught up in the possibility as she.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth confessed. “I sent the majority of them to Pemberley.We will have more time to study them there.”
“Fewer prying eyes.” Darcy recognized the sensibility of her action. “Right now, we should spend our time making lists of what we know of the ballad—of the curse—of Wickham’s habits. Then we can compare them with the folklore. Perhaps a pattern will appear.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth interrupted, “who was that woman today?” Although it pained her to recall her part in the woman’s demise, Elizabeth had to know why she had the sense that Darcy was acquainted with the woman.
He glanced quickly at his sister.“It was Mrs.Younge.”
“Mrs.Younge?” Georgiana was on her feet also. “Are you sure, Fitzwilliam?”
“Who is Mrs.Younge?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Yes, Georgiana, I am positive the woman I fought today was Mrs.Younge.”The girl gasped in disbelief and sank into the nearest chair. Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth. “Mrs.Younge was once Georgiana’s governess. I believe it was through her that Wickham was able to exact his revenge on my sister.”
Georgiana’s head snapped up in attention.“You told her?”
“Elizabeth is my wife, Georgiana.” Darcy understood his sister’s embarrassment, but he had no time for such propriety. “If she knows of Wickham, how could I keep anything from her? I trust her with my secrets and with my life.”