Chapter Twenty-One

Elizabeth

E lizabeth's footsteps faltered as she felt her energy draining. She had to have run and staggered for at least fifteen minutes and was now fully immersed in the woods. Pemberley's lights had been swallowed behind her by darkness and she could see only a few steps ahead of herself.

She leaned against a tree, catching her breath as she looked around. Where was she supposed to go now? What had she been thinking? She ought to go to Lambton—but what then? Get a carriage to Sheffield in the hopes of finding Charles and Jane? But they were… Where were they? They would be viewing homes while staying in posting inns. She had no way of knowing where and which one exactly. Besides, Aunt Gardiner was at Pemberley.

She'd have to return there sooner or later. But maybe for now she could find refuge somewhere else. She'd called on Mrs Dillinger and Mary a number of times, perhaps she could visit them? Though she realised that she was quite disorientated, she had no way of knowing which direction would lead her to Lambton.

She walked further into the darkness of the woods, there were no bears or wolves to fear, and any foxes would be more scared of her. These were not the expansive forests of the far north nor the jungles of Asia, it was just a small wood in England. She tried to shake off the sense of foreboding that cloaked her and ploughed forward. Surely the woods would end soon, and she would emerge in a clearing and be able to get her bearings? Spotting something in the distance she headed towards it, as she drew closer she realised it was a campfire.

Who would be camped out here at night? Could it be robbers? She knew they were often found in the woods around Longbourn, but here? This was part of Mr Darcy's property, and most gentlemen ensured their property was secure—but Mr Darcy had long since given up interest in his own holdings… Could they be hunters? If so, they might be kind and give her refuge in one of their shelters.

In any case, she had to be careful and not reveal her presence too soon. Even hunters could take advantage of a young woman after all.

She stepped forward quietly, ensuring not to step on any branch or make any noise until she could see the people sitting by the fire. The yellow and orange flames illuminated the figures gathered around it. Her heart pounded in her chest as she examined them.

The men seated by the fire looked rough and unkempt, their faces shadowed by the flickering light as they huddled together in whispered conversation. One wore a cloak over his face so it was obscured while the others appeared to have been camped in the woods for some while, their beards scraggly and their hair long. These were no hunters, she knew it at once.

Instinct told her to turn back, to retreat into the relative safety of the night, but then she heard a name uttered that forced her to remain.

"Old, stupid old hag, Dillinger…"

Mrs Dillinger? Why where they talking about Mrs Dillinger? She leaned forward, held captive, as a nagging sense of unease that compelled her to linger just a moment longer.

"That old woman is an easy target," one of the men said. His accent told her he was from London, far away from home.

"I say so. Modest funds but enough to get us by," said another. "I think she's good for a decent haul. And we've got that fool Minks who's paying us weekly."

Minks? The name was not familiar, but she recalled seeing a sign for a Minks' Dairy once while visiting Mrs Dillinger.

As she strained to hear their words, Elizabeth's blood ran cold at what had to be sinister plans. Did they mean to rob Mrs Dillinger? She had been to Mrs Dillinger's home. It was modest, as the men said, but well kept. She'd also learned that she was a widow of ordinary means, provided for by her family and known for her kindness and generosity within the community. What business could these dubious characters possibly have with her?

Elizabeth edged closer, careful to remain concealed in the shadows as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

"...Mrs Dillinger won't suspect a thing, especially if he vouches for us..."

"He will, as always it's a foolproof plan to get our hands on what she has..."

He? Who was ‘he'? Drawing closer, Elizabeth crouched behind a nearby thicket, her heart pounding in her ears as she listened intently.

"We just need to convince her that we're trustworthy," one of the men muttered, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Once we have her confidence, getting our hands on her money will be easy as pie."

The others chuckled darkly, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames as they exchanged knowing glances.

"But we can't keep getting by with these meagre takings from these widows and such forever. When do we get the real prize? I thought we were promised a substantial sum. Can't he deliver?" another man interjected, his tone laced with cunning.

"We will in due time," said the one in the cloak. "For now, we will do what we discussed."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, their expressions twisted with greed as they plotted their next move.

"So, shall we do the usual then?" said the man with the London accent.

These men had done whatever they planned to do to Mrs Dillinger to others, they were calculating criminals, preying on the vulnerable and the unsuspecting for their own gain. Had they preyed on people in their area or elsewhere? She'd heard of highway men who travelled the country to rob and cheat—where they among those?

In any case, she had to do something.

Mr Darcy. She'd have to tell Mr Darcy. There was no way around it. She didn't want to, but if they were looking to take advantage of people under his care, then he needed to know. Would he want to take charge? He'd need to. If not him, perhaps Mr Lightower? Or Mr Cogsworth? They had some influence still…

Despite the argument with Mr Darcy and the apparent end to her arrangement with him, Elizabeth knew that she could not simply walk away and leave these innocent folk at the mercy of these villains. With determination coursing through her veins, she resolved to intervene, to thwart their wicked schemes and ensure that justice prevailed in the darkened depths of the woods. She'd speak to Mr Darcy and if not him, then his employees. Something needed to be done and post haste.

Elizabeth's heart pounded with dread as she absorbed the gravity of the situation, her thoughts racing with concern for Mrs Dillinger and the others who might fall victim to these men.

She turned then and hastened away from the scene, back towards Pemberley. She might wait out the night in her chamber and speak to Mr Darcy in the morning, in the hopes it might find him in a better mood. As it were, these men would do nothing tonight. It sounded as though whatever they were planning was in the early stages, giving her enough time to warn Mr Darcy and Mrs Dillinger.

She rushed forth and had put a fair distance between herself and the men when she paused and exhaled. The outskirts of Pemberley soon came into view again and she exhaled when a snap drew her attention and she spun around.

There, emerging from behind a tree, was a man. He was dressed as shabbily as the others had been but she could not be certain if he belonged to their party or not. They camp site was a good ten minutes from where they were, but it was entirely possible he belonged to them. Even if he didn't, she was a lone woman in the woods and the way he looked at her filled her with dread.

Quickly, she hurried on but it was too late.

"Oy! Lass," the man called in a deep voice with a distinctive Welsh accent. Though at that moment it did not sound as pleasant to her ears as the musical Welsh accent usually did.

She broke into a run but heard his steps increasing behind her, closing the distance. Then, she felt his hand on her arm and was twirled around until she was face to face with him. His eyes were glazed over and his breath stank of rot. He sneered at her, exposing gaps where teeth should have been..

"Where do you think you're going, little bird?" he growled, his breath hot against her cheek as he dragged her closer.

Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled against his hold, her mind racing with fear and desperation.

"Let me go!" she cried, her voice trembling with defiance as she fought to break free.

But the man only laughed, his grip tightening with each futile attempt to escape. "Not so fast, sweetheart," he snarled, his eyes glinting with menace. "You're not going anywhere. My friends would appreciate a little entertainment tonight," he said and snickered.

His friends? Did he mean the men at the campfire? Or were there others? No matter whom he spoke of, a sinking feeling of dread filled Elizabeth as realised that she was now at the mercy of this ruthless man who looked at her as though she were no more than a cow at the market, available for sale.

How stupid it had been to run away, how stupid to have put herself into this situation…She had made the gravest mistake of her life, yet.