“We must go before the tide turns!” Mr. Harrison said fretfully to Mr. Wickham.
“Yes,” his friend agreed. “A good evening to you, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth.” He nodded pleasantly as if they had encountered each other at the market square. I must prevent them from taking Lydia. Elizabeth would never forgive herself if her sister came to harm.
Could she simply grab her sister and run? No, the men had pistols, and Lydia would not come willingly. “Take me with you!” she blurted out.
“No!” William’s voice was a horrified croak.
“I would dearly love a boat ride.” Elizabeth gave Mr. Wickham a coy smile, pleased to see his eyes lingering on her face.
Lydia hurried to take the officer’s arm. “No! This is my treat!”
Mr. Wickham smiled lazily, enjoying the spectacle of two women fighting over him, but Mr. Harrison yanked on his sleeve. “We have no time for your affaires de coeur! We must push off now!”
“We cannot leave yet.” Mr. Wickham frowned. “You know that. We must wait for—”
Mr. Harrison made a quelling motion before the other man said the name. Ah, Colonel Forster was right; at least one other person is involved in their schemes. Blast! Elizabeth was not eager to face yet another thug.
William chose that moment to lunge forward, grabbing Lydia’s hand and trying to pull her toward him. But she clung to Mr. Wickham, who quickly pulled the pistol from his belt and brandished it at William. “Release her now.”
The master of Pemberley hesitated. Elizabeth imagined what she would say if she were truly under Mr. Wickham’s spell. “George, don’t hurt him. You’ll hang for sure! Think of your career.”
With an evil grin, the officer instead pointed the pistol at Lydia’s head. “Release her.” William let go of her hand instantly and stepped away.
Lydia glanced sidelong at the pistol, laughing nervously. “Wicky, what are you about? Now isn’t the time for your silly jokes!”
Mr. Wickham ignored her.
“I will not interfere with your departure, Wickham. Just give me Lydia,” Mr. Darcy said in a level tone. Elizabeth’s heart swelled, knowing he cared about Lydia for her sake.
The other man barked a laugh. “Interfere?” Mr. Harrison had produced a pistol in each hand and pointed one at Darcy. “And how, pray tell, would you manage to interfere?”
Elizabeth surveyed the surrounding beach, seeking help, but it was deserted. Soon the rolling fog would conceal them from the rest of the world.
With a hand clamped on Lydia’s upper arm, Mr. Wickham dragged her backward across the sand and stone toward the pier. “Wicky,” Lydia whined, “you’re hurting me!”
He shook Lydia so hard that her head wobbled. “Quiet!” She was momentarily too stunned to speak.
I must find a way to free Lydia. But while Elizabeth’s heart beat double time, her mind seemed to have shut down completely, unable to focus on anything except dread.
“Colonel Forster and his men are searching for you,” William warned. “You will never reach France.”
“France!” Lydia shrieked. “We’re not going to France!” She glared at Mr. Wickham, who said nothing. “Are we going to France? Will you buy me a silk shawl? I’ve always wanted a silk shawl.”
Mr. Wickham laughed at Darcy. “I don’t see any militia.”
“They are on their way,” the other man promised.
The officer smirked. “Then I suppose we should leave immediately.”
Mr. Harrison frowned. “What about—”
“If our colleague doesn’t arrive in France with us, then we only need to split the reward two ways.” Mr. Wickham’s grin was oily.
“Ah,” said Mr. Harrison. “Perhaps we should hasten our departure.”
They had reached the pier. Mr. Wickham dragged Lydia onto the weather-beaten boards, walking backward so he could keep an eye on William. He and Elizabeth followed at a safe distance. “La! What fun!” Lydia trilled. “But my visit to France must be short, or Papa will be very angry with me.”
The slow, awkward procession continued until they reached the end of the pier. Fog enveloped the area, cutting off the pier from the rest of the world and even muffling sound.