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Page 24 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)

George Wickham had been congratulating himself on how well the operation was going.

He and Pratt had removed all but four of the pots and would be completed with their task in the next ten minutes.

Then he would follow Pratt as the man took the tulips to the next link in the French spy chain and arrest Pratt and his contacts.

He might, of course, find himself murdered in the process, but the danger was part of the excitement of being a spy.

“Pratt!” hissed the voice of Robert Harrigan, who had been the lookout. “We have a problem!”

Wickham turned with a frown that shifted to an expression of horror.

Robert Harrigan was a hulking brute of a man, and he was pushing along the tottering form of one Mr. William Collins, parson and heir to Longbourn.

The rector was ghostly pale in the moonlight and his eyes flared wide in complete terror.

A handkerchief had been thrust in his mouth and, based on his stumbling gait, his hands were tied behind his back.

Pratt swore softly but extensively. “Who is this man? What is he doing here?”

“He is Mr. Collins,” Wickham murmured, “parson and heir to Longbourn. I expected him to be in Meryton with the rest of the Bennets tonight.”

The French agent ground his teeth in frustration as he leaned forward to inspect the prisoner. “I remember him now. Well, this is most regrettable for Mr. Collins. We will have to get rid of him.”

Collins swayed and would have fallen if Harrigan had not held him up, even as Pratt’s minion shook his head fiercely. “I will not kill the man, and a clergyman at that. That’s a hanging matter for certain.”

“Theft is as well,” Pratt countered angrily. “Do not be a fool! We cannot let him run his mouth – he knows Wickham, he knows me, and he will easily track us to both of you.”

“I will not kill him,” the young man declared and his brother, who had come up behind him, chimed in, “Neither will I.”

“I will do it,” Wickham declared abruptly even as he thought frantically. On the one hand, he could not permit Collins to be murdered out of hand; on the other, this unexpected event would make it harder for him to follow Pratt and the tulips.

Pratt turned a suspicious look on him. “You? Do you have the courage to do what is necessary, Wickham? If not, I will dispatch the man while you finish loading the tulips.”

“I will do it,” the British agent repeated, his eyes fixed coldly on Collins’s pale, shaking countenance. “Do you have a knife, Pratt? A pistol shot would be most unwise so close to the house. I will take care to hide his body so that it is not easily found.”

Pratt stared into Wickham’s face, considering his options, then fumbled in his boot. A moment later, he held a wicked blade in his hand, which he handed over.

“Come along, Mr. Collins,” Wickham ordered unpleasantly, shifting his position such that Harrigan was forced to move away from the clergyman.

“Wickham, Edward and I will finish with the bulbs, and I will take the tulips to meet our seller. Robert, retake your post and make sure we are not interrupted again. I will meet you all tomorrow night at The Blue Boar, at which point I will pay you what you are due.”

“I do not think …” the younger Harrigan began, his expression doubtful.

“Do not think,” Pratt ordered glacially. “Wickham, get on with it!”

Wickham nodded obediently and shoved his captive toward the rear of the greenhouse. Mr. Collins stumbled along, shaking in such terror that Wickham feared that the man might collapse before they could reach the safety of a small outbuilding where …

“Wickham!” hissed Darcy.

“Darcy, thank God!” Wickham hissed back. “Did you hear all that?”

“I did. Is Mr. Collins all right?”

“I believe he took a nasty blow to the head. Mr. Collins, do not be alarmed. Mr. Darcy will escort you to Longbourn where you will be cared for. Darcy, I need to pursue Pratt and will need a horse …”

“You can take the mare that Mrs. Younge rode; it is in the Longbourn stable.”

“Thank you. Can you have your footmen assist in capturing the Harrigan brothers?”

/

“Mr. Collins!” Elizabeth cried out in horror as the library door opened and Darcy staggered in with the heavyset clergyman reeling alongside him, supported by Darcy’s strong arm. “What happened?”

“I fear Mr. Collins walked in on the robbery,” Darcy explained rapidly as he gently lowered Collins onto the cushioned sofa against one wall. “Mrs. Younge, can you assist Mr. Collins? I must be off to the stables to assist Wickham.”

“Of course, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Younge assured him hastily. “Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I will need some warm water and compresses, plus some sweetened tea, but please take care not to make excessive noise. We do not wish to alert Pratt that something is amiss.”

“I will go to the kitchen,” Elizabeth said quickly, and exited the library as Mr. Bennet strode over to sit beside his distressed cousin.

“It was the best day of my life, and now it is the worst. Miss Lucas accepted my hand in marriage, and then that big hulking brute grabbed me and struck me as I was walking near the stables. They were going to ... going to kill me,” the clergyman gasped, his teeth chattering, his shaking hand groping feebly at his cousin’s jacket.

“I saw the knife in Mr. Wickham’s hand and then, and then, Mr. Darcy appeared.

Oh, I have never been so terrified in my life! ”

“You are entirely safe, Cousin,” Bennet said reassuringly, patting the younger man gently on the arm. “Please do relax, sir, all is well now.”

/

“But Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy has not given me permission to let you use his horse ...”

“Darcy, you need to tell this fine fellow that I may have your horse ...”

“Of course you can, Wickham, but I am coming with you on my own steed.”

“Darcy, it is not safe!”

“It will be far safer if I come along in pursuit of Pratt and the tulips. Do not be a fool, Wickham; if there is gunfire, having me at your side will make it far more likely that we will complete the mission successfully.”

“Blast you, Darcy, you are correct, but do not make me regret giving in by getting yourself killed!”

/

“A maid will be along shortly with warm water, compresses, and hot tea,” Elizabeth said as she stepped back into the library. “I believe it would be best, Mr. Collins, if you did not tell the servants what happened.”

“They tried to kill me!” Collins cried out, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. “There was a knife ...”

“If I may, Mr. Bennet, I believe it would be best if the servants were not permitted in this room until Mr. Collins has recovered somewhat.”

“That is excellent advice. Lizzy, we will take the items from the maid when she arrives.”

“Of course. Oh, Mrs. Younge, I have been informed that Mr. Darcy’s footmen have captured two minions and they are being held in the cellar.”

“May I leave you both to care for Mr. Collins? I would like to interrogate the men as soon as possible.”

Elizabeth’s wide eyes shifted to the widow’s reticule, where the lady’s pistol resided.

“Of course, Mrs. Younge,” the master of Longbourn replied, his own tone uneasy. “We will take care of our cousin.”

/

Darcy and Wickham, mounted on their horses, moved cautiously down the road in pursuit of the rattling cart which was being pulled briskly and loudly down the road away from Meryton.

“Do we have any idea whom Pratt will be meeting?” Darcy asked softly.

“Not at all,” Wickham murmured back, “but I have high hopes one of them will be his direct superior. If we can capture the next man on the chain, it may enable us to break the spy ring in these parts.”

/

The cellar was dark and damp, and the Harrigan brothers, their hands and feet bound tightly with cord, wore similar expressions of bewilderment and fear. Mrs. Younge nodded at John and Jacob, who were standing over their captives, both with pistols in their hands.

“Thank you both,” she said warmly, and smiled a little. “I hope that a black eye is your only injury, John?”

John grinned and ducked his head in mock shame. “I fear I was a little slow, Mrs. Younge, but yes, I am well enough. Better than the Harrigans are.”

She turned her attention on the two men, who glared at her defiantly.

“What is this all about?” Edward Harrigan demanded. “We were just out for a stroll tonight and these men attacked us!”

Mrs. Younge allowed herself a mirthless laugh as she lowered herself onto a convenient wooden chair. “My dear ... I will not call you gentlemen, because you are not. Ruffians, perhaps? Mr. Wickham told us about your intention to steal the tulips, which is why we were waiting for you.”

Both Harrigans gazed at her with shocked surprise for a full thirty seconds, then launched into a series of descriptive and dramatic oaths, which were only cut off when Jacob kicked them both. “Quiet, now – you are in the presence of a lady.”

“A lady who is also an agent of the British government,” Mrs. Younge continued silkily, withdrawing her pistol from her reticule and inspecting it dramatically. “You will both hang for working with the French spy, Lieutenant Pratt.”

Now the Harrigans were pale with horror and wonder.

“French spy!” Robert managed to squeak out. “He didna say anything about no French spying! He said the tulips were valuable, that we would make a lot of money. We had no idea...”

“Indeed, we did not!” Edward added pathetically. “We are not traitors! I swear before God and the King we are not!”

Mrs. Younge glowered down at them for a dramatic moment and then nodded slowly. “Very well, tell me everything you know about Lieutenant Pratt and Colonel Forster. There may yet be hope for mercy ...”

/

“Good evening, Elizabeth!” Mrs. Bennet said as she entered the front foyer of Longbourn with her four other daughters at her back. “I hope your head is feeling better?”

“Yes, it is better,” Elizabeth assured her mother. “How was your evening?”

“It was very enjoyable!” Kitty exclaimed. “Colonel Forster arranged for music, and we had a dance after dinner; the Colonel danced with me twice! Mr. Bingley danced with Jane, of course, and Captain Denny with Lydia.”

“Mr. Wickham was not there though,” Lydia declared with a disappointed pout. “Mr. Collins and Charlotte were missing as well, which seemed quite extraordinary.”

“I assume Mr. Collins is home now?” Mrs. Bennet asked absently.

“Yes, he is, but regrettably he took a hard fall as he was walking home from Lucas Lodge and hurt his head.”

“Oh, poor Mr. Collins!” Jane exclaimed. “I am so sorry!”

“Yes, it is a most unfortunate accident,” Elizabeth agreed mendaciously, “but there is good news. He informed us that he asked Charlotte for her hand in marriage, and she accepted!”

“That is wonderful!” Mrs. Bennet said cheerfully. “Now come along, girls, it is very late!”

Elizabeth waited for her mother and sisters to depart upstairs before slipping back to the library where Mr. Collins was laid out on the couch, snoring stentoriously, his head bandaged.

“I assume your mother did not ask any difficult questions?” Mr. Bennet asked softly.

“Not at all,” Elizabeth asserted. “I feel a little badly about deceiving them all regarding Mr. Collins’s injury but ...”

“But I told you to do so, and thus the onus is on me, Lizzy. All will be much clearer tomorrow after we speak with Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy again.”

“I do hope they will be safe,” Elizabeth murmured, her mind fixing firmly on the taller, darker of the two gentlemen.

“I am sure they will be,” Mr. Bennet said in a soothing tone. “Now, shall we play another game of chess while we wait for news?”

/

The cart carrying the tulips rattled on for a full two hours before reaching the small market town of Ashfordside.

Darcy and Wickham slowed their mounts further as Pratt turned off the main road and made his way down a small country lane to a darkened house, beyond which hunched a barn in the silvery moonlight.

Darcy and Wickham halted near a convenient tree as Pratt dismounted from the carriage and strode over to the barn door, where he pounded on the door in an odd rhythm.

A moment later, the great barn doors swung open, revealing the silhouettes of two men backlit by lantern light.

Pratt clucked loudly, and the horse pulled the cart into the barn, whereupon the doors were pulled shut.

The two men waited under the tree for a few minutes and then, following Wickham’s lead, Darcy tied his horse to the tree.

“Do you have your pistols ready, my friend?” Wickham asked softly.

“I do.”

“Then come along.”

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