22. Resolution

CHAPTER 22

Resolution

A s quickly as the entire company fell silent, so did the uproar begin once more. Elizabeth dropped from the tree where she had been hiding, her pulse fluttering like a captured bird. She had hardly dared draw breath from the moment she clambered into the branches, waiting, praying, for the perfect moment to act. Now it was over, but what, exactly, had transpired? There was so much sudden commotion, so much sound and movement, that she hardly knew where to look. Her eyes flickered here and there as scenes from the drama unfolded before her.

At first, the world seemed to have dissolved into chaos, an unimaginable cacophony of sights and sounds, a maelstrom of activity; in retrospect, she recalled everything as a series of crystallised vignettes, to be examined and reflected upon in turn.

In the first image, she saw Wickham, or rather, the spot where he had stood. That space where the man had been a moment before was now empty; Richard and a few of his men rushed forward in a blur of red and brown, their moving forms obscuring everything from her sight.

A separate image, although it occurred at the same exact moment, was of the horse which was harnessed to the cart, taking alarm at the sound of the explosion from the pistol as it discharged and rearing, dangerously, hooves slashing at everything in its path, its panicked cries splitting the air. Through the black haze that threatened to overwhelm her, Elizabeth saw Will, hand and feet still bound, trapped in the cart, at the mercy of the panicking beast.

A third vignette was Jane, collapsed in Richard's arms, as Mr Bingley came staggering into the clearing, the bandage still wrapped around his head, one eye obscured by a dark bruise, an expression of utmost defeat etched upon his face.

And finally, there was the plume of smoke and dust, rising from the earth only a few feet from the cart's back wheel, and the shouts and calls of what seemed like a hundred men.

For a moment, Elizabeth stood paralysed in place, so tugged between this tumult of simultaneous tableaux that she knew not where to turn, where to look. She could not make sense of them, could not decipher what her eyes were seeing. It was an incomprehensible pandemonium. And then, suddenly unable to remain still another moment, she lunged forward towards the scene of chaos. She had to know…

Will! What had happened to Will?

Please, let him be alive… let him be alive… These words, a desperate prayer, were all that kept her moving as she stumbled the last few feet to the clearing before the house through the frenzy of sights and sounds that swirled around her.

At last, the vignettes formed and reformed, until finally, she could make sense of the scene before her.

Wickham lay on the ground, a pool of blood spreading around him. Oh heavens! Was he dead? No. He groaned, and then yelled out an obscenity as someone turned him over and hoisted him to his feet before looping a rope around his hands. The man stepped back, and Elizabeth could see a shaft protruding from the side of Wickham's leg. That was what had felled him. He was not going quietly, but he was clearly defeated.

"We have him secure!" someone called out, and the men cheered.

Another group of men had dashed towards the cart, where they were succeeding in their efforts to calm the rearing horse. The cart itself was still upright, and there was no prostrate body on the ground beside it, or—thank Heavens—before it, crushed beneath its wheels.

Elizabeth stepped around the smoking hole in the ground, where the pistol had discharged, and was able to approach the cart sufficiently to see the one thing that she had wished most dearly in the world to see: Will Darcy, tossed onto his side on the bench, looking quite the worse for wear, but most definitely alive. As she stood gaping, Richard ran up to his cousin and sliced at the restraining ropes with a knife, and Will, free from his bonds, half-staggered and half-fell from the now-still cart.

He drew in a ragged breath that Elizabeth could hear, even at this distance, and all eyes turned towards him.

But another motion drew her notice, and she caught her breath. Somehow, Wickham had loosed his hands from the coil of rope and the moment his guard's eyes were turned, started lurching towards the cart, and towards Darcy, the arrow still protruding from his ruined leg. Suddenly there was a knife in his hand, pulled from some unseen pocket or sheath, and a snarl on his lips.

"Wickham!" she yelled as loudly as she could, hoping against hope the men would be able to stop him.

Her cry had some effect, for it startled him enough to break his stride. At that moment, Will lunged as well, something thin and metallic in his hand. Wickham gave one last bellow and dropped to the ground again. Elizabeth's hatpin, which Will had worn in his neckcloth as a talisman or amulet for good luck, was now lodged in Wickham's hand.

Richard's men were upon the miscreant in an instant, and this time, she was certain, he would have no escape. They were safe at last.

"Will!" Elizabeth called out, almost before she could form a thought. She did not notice her feet moving; all she knew was that she was suddenly before him, ready to throw herself into his arms.

"Have a care, madam!" somebody shouted, and she stopped, all confusion. Then realisation struck, and she let drop the object she still held tight in her hands, that which she had quite forgotten she still grasped.

"Elizabeth! Oh, my dearest Elizabeth!" Will caught her in his embrace and they clung to each other, quite unwilling to be separated, the bow which she had used to shoot Wickham abandoned and quite forgotten on the hard ground beside them.

Breath by breath, order was returned to the clearing. A doctor had been found, probably called in from the town before the motley regiment descended on Wickham's bolthole, and he made himself busy tending to the wounded man. He had taken a quick look at Will and pronounced him perfectly fit beyond the chafed skin on his wrists and some bruising where he had been rattled about by the bolting horse. As for Wickham, he tutted that the miscreant would likely never walk normally again, but that a limp would be the least of his problems. Desertion, abduction, robbery, and attempted murder were no easy charges to shake off.

Elizabeth was only relieved that she had not been the one to end his life. Her aim had been true and she had incapacitated him quite thoroughly, but she had not killed him. She did not know how she could live with herself had she done so. Far better to leave matters of judgement and punishment to others. She was only relieved that she and Will were finally safe from his machinations.

Jane had quickly been handed over to one of the burlier men, who hoisted her up in his arms like a sack of flour and set off for the carriage where her father waited around the corner. Richard had commanded them to remain there until he was at liberty to see them back to Coed-y-Glyn. Poor Jane had looked quite stricken with shock, but was bodily uninjured. Bingley, who still staggered around the periphery of the assemblage, seemed in far worse shape, and by the way his knees buckled, Elizabeth suspected that he would be returned to the lodge prostrate in the back of a wagon.

The horse, now perfectly calm, had been unhitched from the cart and had been led over to a small stream, where he was partaking of the bubbling water. How long all this had taken, Elizabeth could not begin to say. Time had taken on unworldly properties, every second being stretched into infinity or contracted into nothingness, until the slow progression of the shadows across the fields seemed to lose all meaning.

All she cared about was that she was in Will's arms, both of them safe at last.

As the whirlwind had unfolded around them, she and Will had limped off towards a fallen log at the edge of the lane—Richard had warned them not to leave the vicinity yet—and there they had all but collapsed together. The sun shone bright, but Elizabeth was shaking.

"You are cold, my love." Will's voice was honey, balm for a wounded heart. He ignored the shake of her head and took off his coat, wrapping it around her shoulders before he pulled her towards him once more. Oh, how she needed this embrace.

"I thought I should never feel your arms around me again," she whispered. "I was so very scared. But here, it is I who should be comforting you. You were the one in danger. I was so worried, so terribly frightened." She pressed herself into his side, letting her arm free of the borrowed coat to snake around his waist and then let her head fall onto his chest. This was a most indecorous show, but let the men chastise them all they wished. He was her husband, and all Elizabeth cared about at this moment was not letting this precious man go.

His heart drummed under her ear, that too-rapid but reassuring tattoo, tethering him to the earth and her to him. It was not only his heart pounding; he was shaking as well, she now realised. His whole body was trembling, and he said not a word. He had given her his coat, when he needed it more than she did. But she could not let go of him, even for a moment. She caught the faint whiff of his eau de cologne, applied this morning before the world almost came to an end, overlaid with the earthier odour of perspiration and fear. She would cherish that scent; it was perfume to her. His breaths, still heavy from his recent encounter with the madman, were music to her, and she hugged him even tighter.

For a moment, he just let her hold him.

"It must have been dreadful," she said at last.

He nodded and gave a great shiver. "I did not expect to be bound hand and foot and lashed to a cart." Will let out a great rush of air. "When the horse bolted after the pistol went off, I was certain I had breathed my last. Thank heavens someone was wise enough to hitch the slowest horse to the fastest-looking cart. A more spirited beast would have meant the end of me."

"I would have felled the horse too." She tilted her head to stare into the most precious pair of eyes in the world. Had he said he cared for her? He had called her ‘my love.' She would let him know, as soon as they were alone, that his feelings were quite reciprocated. Her lips twitched into a smile, and she noticed his gaze flicker to them. His head began to bend to meet hers and?—

"I had no notion you were so fine a shot, Elizabeth." Richard's voice sounded from nearby, jolting them both back to their circumstances. Elizabeth sucked in a breath and spun her head to see the colonel leaning against a tree. He looked amused. Will would surely hear his cousin's thoughts later.

"A lady does not like to boast, but I am skilled with bow and arrow."

"Darcy told me you had taken a rabbit, but I never imagined you could take down a larger predator as well. I must learn to be more cautious of harmless-looking young ladies. But enough of your archery achievements. The singing! I thought you were quite mad when you suggested it. But once again, I am pleased to be mistaken."

"I know it sounded outrageous; I hoped, indeed, that Wickham found it so. It proved to be an excellent distraction."

The colonel offered her a rather formal salute. "Excellent tactics, General Bennet… or, should I now say, General Darcy. Having the men sing quite confounded our prey."

"And the noise and distraction," Will added, his voice still a bit rough, "provided enough of a cover that Wickham did not notice her as she approached the tree, nor did he hear her as she climbed it. Or, for that matter, when she let the arrow fly."

"Indeed, it was slow work," Elizabeth confessed, "finding my branch with the bow and arrow, and I feared I would make a sound at every moment. Jane helped as well." She had to acknowledge her sister's role. "Her sobs and screams also caught Wickham's attention, so he did not hear me. I did not know if she would understand the message."

" The Arrow's Flight . That was the song. You sang it together only last night. I believe she understood very quickly what you intended. Thank heavens everything worked out as planned."

"And from a tree, at that!" called one of the men who was standing nearby and overhearing. "Good work, Mrs Darcy. I'd be proud to have you on my side in any battle."

"Thank you, Owen." Elizabeth had earlier asked his name. "But I hope that all my pursuits with bow and arrow from now on will be at an archery range. No, my mother lamented all my years growing up that I would never make a fine lady if I insisted on scampering from branch to branch."

"I am forever thankful that you ignored her." Will pulled her closer to his side. "You have saved my life twice now."

"Twice?" Richard furrowed his brow.

"Ah, this lady you see here is a dab hand with a heavy tavern serving tray! Let me tell you…"

The sun was beginning its journey back to the horizon when affairs at the old abandoned house were finally settled. Wickham, wounded but alive, was in chains to be sent for justice, and the makeshift army had been disbanded, with a word that Mr Darcy would be good for whatever coin they chose to spend at the tavern in the village.

"It is in lieu of my wedding breakfast," Darcy announced, "which is now cold and unfit for consumption. But the ale and pies, I am certain, will be good recompense."

"What of your own repast, cousin?" Richard had asked. "You must be faint on your feet. The carriage with Miss Bennet and her father has left for the lodge, but there might be room on the cart with Mr Bingley. What possessed the man to come here, when he can hardly sit up, I will never know. Not even the lovely Miss Bennet is worth breaking one's head for."

"We can ponder over Bingley later," Darcy replied. "For now, I wish only to be with my bride. Elizabeth? Do you wish to ride? Or…" Darcy gestured towards the wood at the back of the house.

"The village is a short walk, if one does not mind a scramble over some rocks and a narrow stream. The road has to bend, of course, but anyone with two healthy legs can make the trip easily. After today's troubles, I confess I would be pleased for the exercise. If my husband agrees, of course." Elizabeth gazed up at him, lips curved into an inviting smile.

"I would like nothing better."

"That is how Wickham had no notion that I was close. He only saw the road ahead and did not realise how near this arm of the wood is to the village. I was here, waiting, almost before your procession arrived, and I believe we will be back there before they descend in their happy masses to the tavern."

"Are you fit to walk, Darcy?" Richard asked. You took quite a jolt.

Darcy grasped Elizabeth's hand. "With this lady at my side, I have never been better."

How different was this walk through the rocky woods from that they had achieved only days before. Relieved of their hunter and the terror his pursuit had caused them, the dark and perilous track through the forest became a picturesque stroll; the rocks and roots that had loomed, threatening, were now interesting diversions along their path, and an excuse for Elizabeth to cling to Darcy's arm.

She needed no assistance on the walk; she was perfectly able to make the journey, as she had done earlier, and armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows at that. Nor did she need any such excuse to hold tight to him, for they were now wed, man and wife. But she seemed to like the contact and he was in no mind at all to complain.

"This slope is a bit steep, sir." Elizabeth turned to him with an arch grin. "I do believe I need your assistance in managing it."

"Shall I carry you, my lady, in my strong arms?"

"Like that rather large farmer did with poor Jane earlier?" She let out a peal of tinkling laughter. "No, indeed. For there, Jane looked quite mortified, whereas I should not be upset at all. I might, however, feel the need for extra security of my person, and might wish to wrap my own arms about your shoulders."

"Like this?"

Darcy answered her laughter and swept her into his arms.

"And like this!" She twisted so she was facing him, her hands locked behind his neck. Oh, the tempting minx!

"Did you mean what you said?" Her question came from nowhere.

"What did I say? I recall saying a great many things, most of which were born of terror."

"You called me your love." She stopped wriggling in his arms and her eyes grew serious.

"Ah. Indeed, I did. That was born not of terror at all, but of a momentary lapse in my self-regulation. Was it…" he took a deep breath, "was it unwelcome?"

She did not seem disturbed by the words, but Darcy knew he was not the best talent at understanding the words that people did not say.

Elizabeth's lovely face grew even more serious for a moment, and he felt his heart might stop beating. He had confessed his love for her, but did she feel anything similar for him? She liked him enough, this he knew, and she had married him only this morning. How strange to be talking of love only now.

Then she blinked, letting the fringe of lashes fan across her pink cheeks, and her rose-hued mouth softened into a gentle smile.

"It was the most welcome thing I have ever heard. How strange, for all that we have known each other for less than two weeks, but I cannot think of ever loving anybody else."

"Then, Mrs Darcy, it is a fine thing that we are wed!"

He set her down on her feet and gazed at her. This was where she belonged, surrounded by trees and moss, the sky her canopy. She would look very well on his arm in a ballroom or at dinner in some fine house, but this was how he would always think of her: her hair blown by the wind, her cheeks reddened by the sun, her eyes aglow.

She was staring at him as well. What was going through her remarkable mind? What does one say to the lady who has saved your life not once, not twice, but thrice? Surely thrice, for without her, his life would surely be an endless succession of nothings that would drain his soul.

She raised her hand to touch his cheek. Was it smooth enough? He had shaved this morning, but was it too rough now for her precious fingers? He pulled in a breath. But she did not recoil. "Are you worried, Will? After all we have been through, are you worried now?"

She cupped his cheek in her palm and pushed herself up on her toes. She was not particularly short for a woman, but he was tall and needed to dip his head to meet her. His eyes closed as he felt their lips meet, once, softly.

"I love you back," she said, and the world was a perfect place.