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Chapter Thirty-One

March 1, 1812 Netherfield Park Darcy

“H e’s in the stables, sir,” Browning reported as soon as the prisoner had been secured. Richard grinned beside him. Colonel Fitzwilliam had insisted upon accompanying his cousin once he learned of the plan—his skill in interrogation would be invaluable.

“Has he said anything?” Darcy asked.

“No. Hood’s still on. I doubt he even knows where he is.” Browning allowed himself a wicked grin. “He never saw our faces, either.”

“Let us have done with it immediately, then.” Darcy rose. “The Ladies Montrose are at Longbourn. They do not yet know we have captured their assailant. I shall inform them once we understand the full nature of the threat.”

The three men left the house and crossed to the stables. At the rear, in a storage room far from the horses and out of earshot, their prisoner waited. Darcy entered first, Richard close behind. Browning positioned himself behind the man, out of his line of sight, and pulled off the sack.

“Greetings.” Richard said smoothly, stepping forward with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Thank you for joining us. Your name, if you please?”

The man clenched his jaw and turned away. Browning seized a handful of hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to meet their gazes.

“It will go easier on you if you cooperate. Transportation is your best hope, though the destination remains negotiable. I hear Van Diemen’s Land is a fine place. Snakes, spiders, larger reptiles…perfect punishment for a would-be murderer.”

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”

Richard dragged a chair forward and swung it around, seating himself astride it with his arms resting on the back. He met the prisoner’s eyes, unflinching. “No? Why is that? Loyalty to your masters? I doubt it. Fear then? You need not fear, for they will not find you where you are going.”

Beads of sweat formed on the man’s upper lip. From the doorway, Darcy watched in silence, arms folded, his jaw set in a hard line. He had promised Richard he would stay out of it, but the urge to plant his fist in the man’s face had not lessened.

“Don’t matter then. Ye can toss me aboard a ship bound for anywhere. What I say won’t make no difference.” His rough speech grated on Darcy’s ears.

“But it does.” Richard leaned forward. “If you would rather spend your journey swimming in bilge water, say nothing. More comfortable accommodations await those who cooperate.”

Richard stood. “We shall leave you to consider your options.” At his nod, Browning replaced the hood. The three men exited the windowless room, leaving their prisoner tied to the chair and alone in the dark.

“Keep watch,” Richard ordered. “Do not allow him to escape. He has been searched, I trust?”

“Yes, sir,” Browning replied with a nod. “We found four blades and a pistol on him.”

“Let us hope he has nothing more hidden.”

Darcy scoffed. “I am more interested in hoping he speaks.”

“He will, Darcy. Men like him place their own skin above all else. He will talk—if only to save it.”

“He has already resolved to say nothing. He knows he will be transported regardless.”

“That remains to be seen. I suspect a more…fitting punishment may be arranged. If he will not speak, I believe Marshalsea would be an appropriate destination.”

They left the stables, two guards posted at the door behind them. Darcy’s patience wore thin. When will this end?

Jarvis

Jarvis caught every word they spoke, though they likely believed themselves well out of range. Jarvis had always had good hearing, and it served him well now. Marshalsea or transportation? The latter held more appeal, certainly. His former masters had men in the prison—he would not last more than a day in there. He would have to give the nobs something—anything—to keep himself out of the place.

But what? Of those who had hired him, Silas Winters was the lesser threat. He could give up the location of the townhouse and, if Winters managed to slip away, claim he had been hired off the street and had no name. No names—just a house number and a location. It might be enough to keep him alive and get out of England. Once abroad, he could start again. His trade travelled well——there were always thieves and smugglers somewhere in the world.

His face dripped with sweat. Despite the spring air, the small room had grown stifling, especially under the hood. His breathing grew labored in the heat. After what felt like hours, he heard the door open. Three sets of boots crossed the floor. He sensed movement behind him, then the hood was pulled away. Cool air touched his skin, and he drew a deep breath.

“I do hope you have given my offer proper consideration,” said the red-coated officer. “I have been more than generous, you know.”

Jarvis swallowed. “Yeah, I thought on it. I’ll tell ye what I know. It ain’t much.” He swallowed again, throat dry.

“Speak.” The officer pulled up a chair and sat.

“Don’t know no names. I was hired off the street to do a job.” He shrugged. “Not out o’ the usual for me.”

“You are often hired to kill young ladies?” the redcoat asked, sharp-eyed.

Jarvis stiffened. “That ain’t what I meant! I get hired fer odd jobs is all.”

“You, sir, are a liar. If it comforts you to believe your target was your first, cling to that thought. But give me the information I seek, or you will lose your chance to negotiate.”

Darcy stood by the door, silent until now. Yet Jarvis could sense theanger radiating from him—sharp and unmistakable. “There’s a house on Bloomsbury Street,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Number five. Got my orders there.” Let Winters face what was coming.

“Thank you,” Richard replied coolly. “Make yourself comfortable. We will verify your claims before proceeding.” The hood came down once more, plunging Jarvis into the darkness. Muffled voices followed just beyond the door.

“Send a rider at once.” Darcy’s commanding voice—firm and unyielding—brooked no argument.

“Even if he rides hard, it may be hours before we have word. And subtlety is required. They must proceed with care. Go to your lady, Darcy. I shall remain here.”

Jarvis leaned back in the chair. His discomfort and the pain in his hand would keep him from resting, but he had best make the attempt.

Winters

Ten days. It had been ten days, and not a word. Jarvis had never stayed away so long. He kept chambers in the house and favored his soft bed. Fearing the worst, Silas began to gather any incriminating papers. If Jarvis had been caught, he had no doubt the sneak-thief would offer up his employer to save himself.

Years of detritus littered the house. Silas burned every item thatmight reveal his involvement, taking care to destroy anything bearing his name. He left Jarvis’s rooms untouched. If anyone came for him, they would find his belongings and assume he had lived there alone.

Where would he go now? Silas frowned. There was a boarding house across the street. He could stay there and watch his own front door. If anyone arrived, he would know he had been betrayed. He packed a small trunk with essentials and whatever valuables remained. A purse of coin tucked into his coat, he slipped out the rear door and made his way across the street.

The proprietress had a room available, and he secured it at once. Fortunately, it overlooked the street. He paid for the week in advance, then settled at the window with a book. From there, he could easily see his front door.

Nothing happened for two days. Passersby came and went. The noise and bustle of the street, so familiar from within his home, now felt strange when viewed from the other side. Silas passed the hours with books, cards, and small amusements. By the third day, he began to believe he had misjudged Jarvis—that perhaps the man had succeeded, and all would proceed as planned.

On the fourth day, soldiers arrived at his front door. They did not trouble themselves with knocking; instead, they broke down his finely carved entrance and stormed inside. Silas’ face darkened with fury. Jarvis had betrayed him. If the man is anywhere in England, I shall find him. He glared out the window toward his house, and though he could not see what passed within, he imagined it clearly—his furnishings cut open, every drawer and wardrobe turned out, every scrap of paper examined.

An hour later, two men left the house, leaving three within. Silas paced and fumed, calculating his next move. Returning home was out of the question. He might flee to Yorkshire, but his creditors would find him there soon enough. He picked up a decanter he had brought from the house and drank directly from the mouth. The spirits dulled his edge, and he drifted into a restless doze.

Memories stirred in the haze. A small girl, seated beside her prone father, his hand clutched in hers. Her tear-streaked face turning toward him. Her crumpled form as he…

He jolted upright. If you want something done properly, you must do it yourself, he thought grimly. Snatching up the newspaper, he scanned the pages until he found what he sought.

Lady Maude Montrose, now the Dowager Countess of Montrose, plans to present her granddaughter, the suo jure Countess of Montrose, to the ton. The lavish ball is scheduled for the fourteenth of March, the young countess’s birthday and the day on which she reaches her majority.

“This,” he murmured aloud. “This is my chance.” It would likely be his last opportunity to rid himself of the wretched girl. He could not fail again.

Darcy

“No sign of an accomplice?” he asked, incredulous. “Were we played for fools?”

“I do not believe so. The hearth showed traces of burnt paper—our man must have known we were coming and destroyed whatever might have implicated him. We did find a room in the house that appears to have belonged to our prisoner.” Richard shook his head. “He knew whoever hired him more than he let on.”

“So, he lied to us. I suppose I ought not to be surprised. So, the danger to Elizabeth is still out there.”

“You cannot hide her away forever, Darcy. Keep your men alert and go about your business. Bingley and Miss Bennet are to marry in two days’ time. Go, attend the festivities—socialize with the family and be with your Elizabeth.” Richard clapped him on the shoulder.

“Will you accompany me? The invitation included you.” He wanted Richard close; an extra pair of eyes.

“I shall join you at Longbourn once I see to it that our guest in the stables is on his way to London,” his cousin assured him. “Browning will see him aboard a ship bound for Australia. I am half-tempted to send orders that he be stowed with the cargo…or the bilge.”

“So long as he is gone, and no longer a threat to Elizabeth.” Darcy rose. “I believe I shall ride to Longbourn now.”

The Ladies Montrose had chosen to remain with the Bennets. Though the accommodations were humbler than Netherfield, Elizabeth wished to be near her dearest sister in the days before the wedding, and the Dowager Countess had no desire to be separated from her granddaughter. Darcy continued to reside at Netherfield Park with Bingley and his family.

Miss Bingley and Sir James had arrived the day before; the Hursts were already in residence, having remained through the winter. The dismal state of Bingley’s wine cellar stirred his indignation, and he announced to his relations they must depart promptly after the wedding.

Darcy called for a fresh horse. Bingley and his sister were likely already at Longbourn, as they went near daily. Miss Bingley busied herself with the wedding preparations, and her brother hovered devotedly at his angel’s side.

In truth, Darcy envied him. Though he understood why he and Elizabeth were forced to wait, he did not like it. He longed to begin their life together in Derbyshire—far from danger, far from prying eyes—where he could have Elizabeth all to himself.

Lord and Lady Matlock had encountered Elizabeth at several events. His aunt had speculated about his connection to the newly discovered countess, but he had offered no information that might be passed along through the ton. Lady Matlock, unfortunately, had a penchant for gossip. She would learn the truth, along with the rest of society, when the engagement was announced at Elizabeth’s ball.

Eager to see her, Darcy mounted the horse and urged it into a gallop. As the hooves thundered across the fields, each stride carried him nearer to her side. One vigorous ride later, he dismounted, handed the reins to a waiting servant, and hastened to the door.

It swung open before he could knock. Mr. Collins nearly collided with him on his way out.

“Oh! Forgive me, sir, I was not attending.” He beamed and bowed. Miss Mary came up behind him, resting a light hand on his arm.

“I had no idea you had returned to Hertfordshire,” Darcy said, offering a polite smile. He had not come to know the parson well, but he appeared steady; responsible and eager to be of use.

“I came for my dear cousin’s wedding…and for unfinished business.” Heglanced bashfully at Miss Mary, who looked equally shy.

“Then you must go to it.” Darcy grinned and stepped aside. The couple hurried toward the gardens, and he watched them go, recalling his own proposal. Mrs. Bennet will be pleased, he mused. Three daughters married. That is no small feat.

He stepped inside, where Hill greeted him and took his coat and hat. The old servant lingered, as though he wished to speak. Darcy nodded, granting permission.

“I just want to thank you, sir, for taking care of our Miss Lizzy,” Hill said respectfully. “I remember when she first came to the Bennets. She is one of theirs, and we never saw her as anything else.” He cleared his throat and turned away.

“You are most welcome,” Darcy replied. “She is easy to love.”

“That she is, sir. That she is.”

Darcy followed the sound of conversation to the parlor. Bingley sat with Mr. Bennet and Thomas, engaged in a lively debate. He turned instead toward his betrothed. She sat amongst her female relations, deep in discussion of wedding details. Miss Bingley was with them, speaking animatedly to Jane as they reviewed a list of final tasks.

“Ladies,” he greeted them. “Is everything prepared for the wedding?”

“It is,” Elizabeth replied. “Have you resolved your business?” She spoke vaguely, glancing at her adopted mother and giving a subtle shake of her head.

The Bennets do not know, then. He would honor Elizabeth’s choice to keep them unaware. Heaven knew they had worries enough already.