Page 95 of Cousin Conundrum

Pocketing the key, Fletcher gestured for her to come out.

Elizabeth leaned into the hallway, took in their reinforcements, then ducked back into the room.

Following her with his gaze, Darcy took in Miss Bingley brandishing a worn book. The Bible, were he not mistaken. Beside her, Mrs. Hurst wielded a candlestick, sans candle, while Miss Bennet grasped what looked to be a cricket bat that had seen better days. Four children huddled on the farthest of the three narrow beds crammed into the room, two boys and two girls.

Relief filled the ladies’ faces, but when Miss Bingley opened her mouth, Darcy once again motioned for silence. Elizabeth gestured the others forward. His gaze caught on the red welts wrapping her wrists, anger hardening inside him. Miss Bennet set aside her cricket bat and grabbed the hands of the two youngest children, while Mrs. Hurst gathered the older two. Standing aside, Elizabeth let Miss Bennet and the little boys slip down the hallway, then Mrs. Hurst and the girls, and then Miss Bingley. The men Darcy and Fletcher brought went with them, Fletcher hurrying after. A low-voiced discussion began as to if they should try to get everyone out the window.

Elizabeth came up on her toes, bringing her mouth near Darcy’s ear. “They have Mr. and Mrs. Walters in the kitchen. They said they would shoot them if Johnny let anyone sneak up on the house.”

Darcy nodded. Miss Kitty was correct. The lad was more afraid of what might happen inside the house than out.

“The deadline for our twenty-five thousand pounds is now no later than sunset tomorrow,” Mrs. Archer’s voice said, loud enough to make Darcy start. He realized she’d backed into the house, leaving the porch. If he inched over to the staircase, he may even be able to see her, and she would undoubtedly be able to see him. “If we do not receive that sum, we will begin our executions with your wife, Mr. Hurst, she being the least valuable.”

The front door slammed.

A glance showed one of the men climbing back out the bedroom window, a little boy clinging to his back.

“Did I hear him say Miss Kitty followed us?” an Archer hissed, too low for Darcy to tell which. Miss Edith?

“Apparently,” Mrs. Archer replied angrily. “You said she was not there.”

“Kitty,” the venom in Catherine Archer’s voice made the name an oath.

“We should bring that boy in and make him watch us shoot his mother.” Miss Archer’s cold, calculating tone sent a chill through Darcy. “He did not perform his task well.”

“You would really shoot her?” Not knowing that voice, Darcy could only assume it was the youngest, Miss Laura.

“Not in the kitchen,” Mrs. Archer said. “Unless you mean to clean up the mess.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Miss Mabel snapped. “A gunshot will make the men outside jumpy. They will storm the place.”

“Best to have the inevitable over with.” Miss Archer sounded angry now. “They have found us. We are not escaping this time.”

“We could have horses brought and use their womenfolk as shields,” Miss Edith said slowly.

“I do not think we should actually shoot anyone,” Miss Laura put in. “Taking letters and jewelry and things from their houses is not the same as shooting them.”

“You are too young to recall what we were made to do when we fled France.” Miss Archer seemed to have mastered her temper once more. “Shooting men was the least of it.”

“You are always saying I am too young.”

As the conversation below devolved into bickering, Darcy divided his attention between the top of the staircase and the progress of the men in the Walters’ bedchamber. They had all four children out, and Mrs. Hurst. There seemed to be some sort of discussion taking place about how to lower Miss Bingley. From the gestures, he guessed she wanted to cling to Fletcher’s back and refused any other suggestions.

Miss Bennet raised her gaze, seeking Elizabeth, then nodded at the window. Elizabeth shook her head and gestured to the staircase, once more providing Darcy with an anger-inducing glimpse of the damage done to her wrists. She then pointed back at her sister, indicating that Miss Bennet should go. After pursing her lips for a moment, her gaze sliding to take in Darcy, Miss Bennet nodded. Ignoring the whispered argument taking place between Fletcher and Miss Bingley, Miss Bennet turned, grasped the rope firmly, and shimmied out the window.

Darcy concluded that if Bingley did marry her, at least one of them would have the wherewithal to endure difficulties. Given Miss Bennet’s parentage, if he’d had to guess which member of a Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet union would prove worthless in the face of uncertainty and danger, Bingley wouldn’t have been Darcy’s pick.

But he would have been wrong.

“We cannot abandon the Walters,” Elizabeth murmured, then nodded to the argument at the base of the staircase.

“Nor can we hope to reach them,” Darcy breathed. “I hear all six of them.” He gestured in the direction of the large bedchamber. “Tell Fletcher the kitchen is unguarded.”

Elizabeth nodded, light steps taking her down the hallway. Darcy watched her go, hoping she would climb out the window as her sister had. He’d almost suggested as much, but suspected stubbornness would cause his words to have the opposite effect he desired.

Fletcher crouched on the sill now, a terrified looking Miss Bingley clinging to his back. Everyone else was out the window. Elizabeth reached them, her mouth moving, delivering Darcy’s message. Fletcher looked past her and nodded to Darcy, then started to descend, the corded muscles in his neck straining. Miss Bingley squeezed her eyes closed.

Elizabeth pointed to him, then to the window. Darcy began to inch along the hallway, suddenly aware of a lull in the caterwauling below. Had they finished their argument? He should have paid more attention to their plan, not been distracted by watching Elizabeth. Were they even now going to the kitchen to shoot the Walters? He halted, uncertain which way to go. Elizabeth frowned and crossed the bedchamber. He gestured fiercely for her to go back, but she ignored him, coming to his side.