Page 153

William pulled his horse up short, watching the others get smaller in the distance. He could hear the sounds of gunshots from afar as Richard apparently caught up with the last coach. Frantically he tried to decide what to do—keep going or trust the voice. He glanced to the skies. Show me what to do!

Instantly, he saw a vision of Elizabeth standing on the porch that night at the inn when the voice told him she was in trouble. Without another doubt, he turned the horse around and kicked it into a gallop as he hurried down the drive towards the villa.

~~~*~~~

After all the coaches had disappeared into the fog, Stefano turned to the two guards he had ordered to stay behind. “Now, let us prepare for Mr. Darcy! Do not stop him from entering the house. Let him find me in the ballroom, but do not let him leave the villa under any circumstances.”

He spat out an order to an older man who did the gardening. “Have a curricle prepared now! Bring it around front.” The man nodded nervously and headed to the stables. Then Stefano addressed Elizabeth as he began dragging her back into the house. “If my father was stupid enough to follow me, I have no doubt that your friend is equally as stupid!”

“Please, I beg you, just let me go! If you leave now, you can sail out of England before anyone knows your father is dead.”

“So now you are willing to beg. Well, you may as well know that I have changed my mind. You and I are not sailing right now, but will be travelling to Scotland. Before we leave, however, I have decided it will be enjoyable to teach your friend a lesson. You need to see for yourself which of us is the better man!”

Elizabeth tried to resist, but it was futile as Stefano overpowered her, jerking her back inside and then from one room to another. Instead, she forced herself to focus on how she might help Fitzwilliam if he were to come.

Her thoughts flew to the very small, gold coloured knife that was hidden in a pocket of her gown. Early this morning, she had remembered that it was in her sewing box. It had been a simple matter to loosen a button on the gown laid out for her. After showing the button to the maid, she had quickly retrieved the sewing box from her bag, and while the servant was distracted, had slipped the knife into the pocket. She was relieved to realise that it was still there, as she felt the weight of it as she walked.

After tugging her down a long hallway, they entered a room that might once have been a ballroom but was now empty except for a small table and chairs that were stacked at one end. Looking about distractedly, Stefano walked to a window and jerked loose a piece of decorative braid that still held the curtain back. Dragging her to the table, he lifted one of the chairs and sat it on the floor, pushed her down into it, and began tying her wrists and feet with the braided rope.

Elizabeth tried to hold her hands as stiffly as possible, to leave room for manoeuvring, but once he was finished, she found that while she could easily move her fingers, her wrists were securely tied. Stefano left the room, and while he was away, she tried to free her hands. It seemed hopeless, as the rope made her skin raw where it rubbed. Nevertheless, she kept at it, ignoring the pain.

The count returned shortly with a pair of decorative swords, which he placed on the table, a jar of oil and an armful of linens that he proceeded to pile around the walls and under the curtains. A guard came in right behind with wood in his arms. Dumping it in the hearth, he had a good blaze going shortly, and with a wave of his hand, Stefano dismissed the man. Taking the jar of oil, he walked over one of the linens on the floor and poured some of the contents on the cloth. Then he picked it up and tossed it into the flames. It immediately caught fire, and his eyes danced.

Wiping his hands against his breeches as he stood, he jerked his head around to study her, almost as though he had forgotten she was in the room. “There you see! They burn exceptionally well!”

He strode in her direction. “After I finish with your Mr. Darcy, I intend to set this place afire and leave for Scotland. There shall be nothing left of the esteemed Lord Stanton’s home or your honourable friend.”

He forced a kiss on her as she shook her head back and forth. Unable to break away, she bit his lip, causing him to pull back. He backhanded her, his ring causing a gash on her cheek. She cried out in spite of her resolve not to react. Then still rubbing his mouth, he laughed as if he were possessed and began to tie a handkerchief across her mouth so she could not speak. Studying his handiwork, he was apparently satisfied and stalked out of the room.

Ignoring her aching cheek, Elizabeth managed to grip the small knife in her pocket, extracting it by the heavier handle, as she slid it between the constraints on her wrists. The blade of the knife sliced into her wrist, but she ignored the pain and persisted in her mission. Then she began to rub back and forth against the blade. Focused on this undertaking, she was stunned when the count raced back into the room and took up a stance in front of her. Facing the door at the far end of the room, he pulled a pistol from his coat. Elizabeth’s heart raced, and she almost panicked. Had William come? Would Stefano kill him without a warning?

~~~*~~~

It did not take long for William to navigate the drive and arrive at the front of the villa, pistol in hand. While dismounting, he noticed an older man, who had evidently just brought round a curricle, jump out of it and race back towards the stables. William had no way of knowing if he was going to alert Stefano’s men or if he was just afraid. Looking about, he could see no one else in sight.

Cautiously, he made his way up the steps to the front door, tried the handle and finding it unlocked, eased inside. Once in the foyer, he waited. Hearing nothing, he took several steps towards the grand staircase and was just about to climb them, when an older woman appeared to the left of the stairs. She shook her head as if to warn him that he was going in the wrong direction. Bringing her finger to her lips in a sign of silence, she pointed down the hallway from which she had just come and raised her eyebrows. William nodded, though he did not know if she was warning him or leading him into a trap. With no other choice, he went in the direction the woman had pointed as she hurried away.

Further down the hallway, another servant, possibly the butler from the look of his clothes, waved William forward, motioning that what he was seeking was inside the next door. Taking a deep breath, William did as directed, and with pistol drawn entered a room that looked as though it was once a ballroom. He was not surprised to find a man fitting the count’s description standing at the far end of it, his pistol leveled at his heart. Elizabeth sat in a chair behind him, her hands and feet tied and a gag in her mouth.

“Well, well. We meet at last, Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Stefano crowed quite civilly. “I have heard far too many flattering things about you!”

William ignored him as his eyes met Elizabeth’s, and he said gently, “Are you well?”

Smiling despite the tears that had begun when she first glimpsed him, she nodded her head. Her eyes told him how much she loved him, and he smiled as though he could read them, sending the same message with his own.

Stefano growled, stepping in front of her to block William’s view. “Now that you have that little pleasantry over with, suppose you put down your weapon, Mr. Darcy.” William hesitated, so Stefano roared, “You do not really have any choice in the matter as I have someone you want!”

With those words, Stefano pulled Elizabeth from the chair, holding her as a shield while he placed the pistol under her chin. As fortune would have it, he was so preoccupied that he never noticed the small knife still in her hands. William’s countenance darkened, but he eased his pistol to the floor, never breaking eye contact with Elizabeth.

“Now, kick it over here!”

Once William had complied, Stefano pushed Elizabeth back down in the chair. Darcy glowered at his roughness, and Stefano laughed. It delighted him to see Darcy lose a bit of his storied self-control.

“This is your lucky day!” Stefano smirked as William’s eyebrows rose in question. “I am predisposed to prove to Elizabeth that you are not the champion that she believes you to be and, most assuredly, not someone to esteem.”

Stefano laid his own pistol on the table, methodically unbuttoning his coat. Discarding it, he donned a glove that he pulled from his waistcoat pocket. Then turning slightly, eyes still glued to William, he picked up one of the swords lying on the table. Gripping the handle, he pulled the blade from the scabbard and instantly whipped it about in several directions. The movements made swishing sounds in the air.

“You may use this one.” He tilted his head at the matching sword on the table. “But I trust you would rather use the one you are wearing.”