Lizzy and Darcy picnicked in solitude in one of the immense courtyards with a bubbling fountain of Venus centrally located. Resuming their journey, Darcy explained the next planned adventure. “I know how you love trees, so thought you would appreciate visiting Whitwell Wood. It is far and away the finest and most sweeping woodland in England, with some four hundred acres of ash, oak, beech, sycamore, and hazel trees predominantly. We can easily swing through the fringes as we veer west toward Eckington and Reniswahl Hall.”

The roughly six-mile drive was delightful. Leaving the coal mines mostly behind, they passed through areas rich in vegetation mingled with limestone buttes. The cool breeze of earlier in the day had long since dissipated, leaving a rising heat. Darcy opened the windows, aiding his wife with fanning as they left the tiny hamlet of Elmton and casually meandered through the barren countryside.

The carriage halted unexpectedly, a sharp rap on the roof indicating the driver's wish to converse with the occupant. Darcy frowned, leaning forward to the open window.

“Yes, Mr. Anders?”

“Sir, pardon the intrusion, but there appears to be an overturned wagon ahead. Should we stop to check it out?”

“Are there any people about?”

“Not that I can see from here, sir.”

Darcy thought for a moment, peering out the window at the empty landscape. “Approach slowly and be cautious. Halt if anyone is visibly hurt. Phillips, be alert and prepared.”

“Yes sir,” they echoed, the carriage moving forward slowly.

“Elizabeth, pull the shades on your side and stay back,” he commanded tensely, reaching to assure the doors were securely latched and to shut the window.

“Do you suspect something amiss, William?” she asked, voice strained.

He glanced over his shoulder with a quick smile. “I am sure it is nothing, love, but wisdom begs for caution.” He resumed his watchfulness to the outside, running a hand under the seat briefly. Eventually he glimpsed the aforementioned wagon lying upside down and partially in the road. Immediate bells rang in his head as there were neither horses nearby nor the expected cargo strewn about the ground. The region surrounding was rocky, with numerous trees thinly spaced on either side of the road, but relatively flat with narrow depressions and hollows. Nonetheless, the road was a well maintained one without ruts or ditches, no loose boulders on tall cliffs or other ready causes to overturn a wagon.

He sensed Lizzy closely behind him before she spoke. “Sit back!” he snapped, Lizzy obeying reflexively to his terse demand. Darcy patted her knee to ease his rudeness precisely as all hell broke loose outside.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Death Interrupts

A loud shout sounded from above and a gunshot crack rang out. The carriage stopped precipitously with a lurch as several voices erupted with yells. Lizzy released a startled squeal as Darcy's hand flashed under the seat. She gasped and eyes widened at the sight of the pistol he retrieved and hastily tucked into the waistband of his breeches at the small of his back. Eyes yet riveted to the window, he reached behind to squeeze her leg, jerking backward in reflex when a grizzled face abruptly appeared at the window.

Lizzy clutched frantically onto Darcy's arm, heart pounding crazily. The man outside brandished a pistol, gesturing for Darcy to exit the carriage. “Elizabeth,” Darcy's deceptively calm and icy voice commanded, “stay inside if you are allowed; otherwise, keep close and to my left side. Do not argue or resist and keep your eyes on me.”

She nodded, not that he could see her as his focus was on the angry man outside, who was now banging on the locked door. Darcy unlocked and opened the carriage door, holding his hands up so the man could see he was unarmed.

“Get out! Now!”

Darcy complied with a quick glance at his wife. Lizzy could see the towering fury in the steeliness of his eyes and clenched jaw, but she also saw the intense fear that she knew was all for her. She kept her seat in hopes that it would be over quickly, the bandits surely wanting money which Darcy could provide, and then they could be on their way. Terror paralyzed her, rising further as the burly man grabbed her husband's arm as he descended and yanked hard, Darcy stumbling on the steps. He righted himself, straightening to his full and impressive height, broad shoulders blocking the doorway.

“I have money,” Darcy offered in a tone of cold authority and command, “take it and be on your way.”

“Not so fast, guv’ner,” a voice answered. “We are in charge here. I reckon a smart lookin’ fella like you has got more than just a money belt.”

“Check inside, Clyde,” another voice spoke. “He ain’t alone. And you, up there, throw us the luggage and get down.”

“There is no luggage,” Lizzy heard Mr. Anders reply.

Darcy interrupted, “My wife and I are on a pleasure ride. We have nothing but the clothing on our backs. Allow me to give you…”

“Enough!” shouted the first voice. “You two, down! Clyde, move rich boy out of the way and get the wife! She probably weighs a ton with jewels.”

Darcy pivoted quickly, leaning in for Lizzy before Clyde could obey his boss. “Elizabeth, come. Stay close.”

“Out of the way!” Clyde yelled, grabbing Darcy's arm. “I am in charge here!”

Darcy's face was livid, Lizzy panic stricken as he turned to the highwayman with a gleam of pure murder evident. “My wife is with child. I will assist her from the carriage…”

Suddenly the pistol was pointed square at Darcy's forehead, a mere inch away. “You will step away, hero, and do as I say.” The moment seemed to stretch, although in truth it was only a fraction of a second, as Darcy glared into the eyes of the thief.

Lizzy leapt forward. “William, it is alright. I can exit myself. Please step back as he said!” Darcy looked at her, absolute terror warring with supreme fury. He nodded brusquely and stepped away, but only a foot, his eyes never leaving Lizzy. She carefully disembarked, Clyde near with pistol waving between her and Darcy. Darcy instantly and painfully gripped her right elbow, pulling her to his left and predominantly behind his body.

This is the scene as Lizzy now beheld it: She and Darcy stood near the rear of the coach with the identified Clyde now pointing the gun straight at Darcy's chest. Mr. Anders and Phillips were positioned by the lead set of horses, another scruffy, dirty bandit covering them with a pistol. The remaining two highwaymen were some ten feet to the side of the road, mounted on horses with muskets loaded and aimed, pistols on each hip. Compared to the two mangy-looking characters on the ground, these two men were fierce and hardened. One appeared to be in his thirties, commanding and calm, a faint smile playing about his lips as if this sort of behavior was of tremendous amusement. The second man was quite young and handsome in a rugged way, probably about Lizzy's age, but there was an edge of menace in his flat, grey eyes that was altogether frightening. He was staring at Lizzy in a manner far too bold and extremely discomforting.

Darcy was rigid, the tension radiating in nearly visible waves. Lizzy could hear him taking deep breaths in an effort to regain control of his emotions and anger. For her part, Lizzy had never experienced such fear, even when facing Orman. The sensation of being utterly at the whimsical mercy of men with obvious low morals and disdain for the law was petrifying for her, but to a man of generally supreme dominance like Darcy, it was torture. The internal struggle to overcome formidable rage and equally daunting anxiety for his wife was enough to buckle him, but he fought the emotions and gradually mastered.

Mere seconds had passed; the older mounted man finally speaking, his voice identifying him as the first man Lizzy had heard and undoubtedly the leader. “Lou, check the pockets of those two,” he waved to Mr. Anders and Phillips. “They are servants, so likely have nothing, but we may get lucky. Victor,” he said as he nudged his fellow horseman, “get the jack-a-dandy's money clip and check the woman. Clyde, keep our hero in your sights. I don’t trust ’im.”

Victor dismounted, drawing his pistol and pulling a canvas sack out of his saddlebag. He approached with a swagger, grinning evilly. “Hand it over and don’t fuss. Doubt the loss will hurt you any.”

Darcy moved warily, removing his money clip, which was quite thick due to his planned evening of gaming with Rory Sitwell, and retrieved his pocket watch, placing both in the sack. Lizzy bit her lip to prevent a whine escaping. The pocket watch she knew had been a gift from his father when Darcy graduated Cambridge and was therefore dear to him.

“That's it?” Victor asked in doubt. “Thought you dandies carried all kinds of useless baubles.” He patted the pockets of Darcy's jacket and waistcoat, Lizzy nerveless with the certainty that he would discover the hidden pistol, but he did not. His search apparently focused on hidden treasures without suspecting a “dandy” would have a weapon.

“There is nearly three hundred pounds there and the watch is valuable. You have no complaints.” Darcy's voice was quiet and placid. Lizzy, however, saw the clenching jaw and thin-set lips, as well as detecting the muted iron in his tone. Victor stared into Darcy's eyes, clearly noting the same and considering it a challenge of sorts.

Peering unblinking at Darcy, he addressed Lizzy, “How's about you, pretty? Got something for me?” His tone was lecherous and not lost on Darcy, who stiffened even further and gripped Lizzy's arm so firmly she nearly yelped from the pain. Victor's leer broadened as he suddenly shot a hand out and grabbed Lizzy's left arm, yanking her forward.

She did emit a sharp cry as a tug-of-war ensued, Darcy refusing to relinquish his grip even when Victor cocked the pistol and dug the barrel end into the flesh of Darcy's forehead. “Let go or I’ll kill ya and then what good would ya do her?”

“William, please! Do as he says!” Lizzy shouted, her fear for her husband outweighing her own for the moment. The sight of a gun yet again aimed at him was more than she could take. She was trembling violently, tears cascading down her face and eyes pleading. Darcy hesitated another second then reluctantly released her arm. Lizzy let lose a sob of relief and terror.

Victor smiled smugly, meeting Darcy's murderous gaze boldly. “Don’t worry about the little wife. I’ll take very good care of her.”

“You lay one hand on her and I promise I will kill you,” Darcy replied in a tone of pure venom and conviction. Lizzy noted a glimmer of uncertainty in Victor's eyes and then it was gone, to be replaced with arrogance. He led her away a dozen paces with pistol trained on Darcy. The hold on her arm was surprisingly tender and almost caressing. Lizzy shivered in revulsion; Darcy's countenance grim and eyes anguished.

“Okay, pretty, give me those earrings and the necklace. Not particularly fine specimens, are they? Rich boy don’t share his wealth with the missus, huh? Want you for only one thing, does he, and no compensation for the job? Maybe you need a real man who will appreciate your charms.” He ran the back of one hand down her cheek, Lizzy shuddering and jerking away.

Darcy released a growl of pure animal intensity and lunged forward, only to be brought up short by Clyde's pistol in his gut. Lizzy vaguely heard a sound to her left from the direction of Phillips, but her eyes were tightly closed with tears streaming.

“Enough playing!” shouted the leader from his horse. “Get the rings, Victor. Clyde, check the carriage for anything else. This is taking too long.”

Victor scowled but obeyed. “Give me the rings, pretty. Hurry up!”

Lizzy's eyes flew open in shock, hands instinctively enfolding to her chest. “My… my rings? No, please, they are my wedding rings! You cannot…”

“I can and I will. Now hand them over!”

Lizzy cried in silence, hands shaking so badly that she barely managed to remove the rings, neither of which had ever left her finger since Darcy placed them there. With incredible difficulty she dropped them into the bag, hands instantly covering her face as she dissolved into sobs.

Glancing to Darcy's stony face and smiling insolently, Victor slid one arm around Lizzy shoulders and stroked her neck while murmuring placatingly and smirking at Darcy, “Don’t fret, pretty lady. Victor knows how to make you feel good. I’ll bring you with me and we can have some fun.” As he spoke, he moved his gun-toting hand upward and brushed his fingers over one breast.