Page 79 of The Shades of Pemberley
Fitzwilliam continued to press him for several more minutes, but it soon became clear that he knew nothing more than he had already told them.
He detailed some reports he made to his contact, but they were nothing more than the comings and goings of the house.
Of the man he reported to, there was nothing useful other than the description; according to the scruffy lout, the man revealed nothing about the information he was gathering.
A few coins exchanged hands, likely not worth the scruffy man’s time, and he was sent back to watch and report further.
“Very well,” said Fitzwilliam at length. “Hold him in the cellar and have the constable summoned. I will want to question him further should anything else occur.”
Then Fitzwilliam appeared to consider something, and he turned back to the man. “Did you ever have any contact with anyone in this house. A woman, blonde hair, blue eyes, with the bearing of a woman of quality?”
“No,” was all the sullen man would say.
Fitzwilliam nodded to the footman, who escorted the man out of the room, the pair of men waiting on the other side of the door joining him the moment they emerged, ensuring their captive did not make a bid for freedom.
When the man was gone, Elizabeth slipped into the room and went at once to Darcy’s side, while her father shut the door behind her.
“What do you think?” asked Darcy.
Shaking his head in disgust, Fitzwilliam said: “I doubt the man knows anything more. I shall attempt to catch his contact at the location he gave us, but if the man is at all alert, he will avoid the place unless the spy shows himself first.”
With a sigh, Fitzwilliam sat in the chair. “In truth, I suspect the man with whom he was meeting is not the one for whom we are searching.”
“An extra level of security?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“Given the lengths he has gone to hide himself from us,” said Fitzwilliam, “I believe it is likely. I did not recognize the description of the contact, though I suppose they may be thieves unknown to us.”
“The intruder and his familiarity with the house would suggest otherwise.”
“That it does,” agreed Fitzwilliam.
Shifting, he rested his jaw in his hand and stared at the window. “There is something about this that strikes me as wrong. I might almost suspect Wickham of having a hand in it.”
“Wickham?” asked Darcy, fixing Fitzwilliam with a sharp look. “That name seems to arise often.”
“It does,” said Fitzwilliam. “If I did not consider him a coward lacking the internal fortitude to plan and execute such a dangerous gambit, I might almost suspect his hand in this.”
“Perhaps we should send to Meryton to discover if he is still there,” suggested Mr. Bennet. “If he is, we will know he is not involved.”
A grunt comprised Fitzwilliam’s response. “I will send a request through the army’s channels. With any luck, we will have an answer within two days.”
“The question is what we do in the interim,” said Darcy. “I have considered this for the past several days, and I think it is time we left town.’
Fitzwilliam eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes, that might be for the best.”
“Is that necessary, William?” asked Elizabeth.
Darcy drew her in close. “If we go to Derbyshire, it will be much easier to protect the girls. The biggest problem we face in London is the vast throngs that inhabit it. It is far easier for a man to hide among the masses, even in a quiet district such as Mayfair. In Derbyshire, that avenue will not be available. We will have more eyes there for the staff is larger; anyone wishing harm will need to make his way to the house and inside before he can do anything, which will be more difficult than here in town.”
“Then I suppose we should begin making preparations,” said Elizabeth, her tone now businesslike. “Papa, will you bring my mother and sisters to the north too?”
Mr. Bennet regarded her, a half-smile playing about the corner of his mouth. “Given what I have heard of the library there, I must assume that it is compensation for the three days of travel I must endure. As your mother has never seen your new home, I suspect she will wish to go.”
“Mama has also appointed herself guardian to my sisters and Georgiana,” rejoined Elizabeth with a grin. “That will draw her to the north as much as a desire to see my new home.”
“Aye, that it will,” agreed Mr. Bennet. “Then we shall accompany you.”
Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy. “As your friend has not gone two days complete without seeing my eldest, I suspect he will wish to join us.”
“That may cause problems when he musters the courage to propose, but I suspect you are correct.”
A shrug met his comment. “Perhaps he will. So long as we announced the engagement after we quit Pemberley, I do not suppose it will be any trouble.”
“Then I think we have our plan,” said Fitzwilliam. “If you do not mind, Darcy, I shall go to the north with you. Should trouble follow us there, I wish to be on hand to assist.”
“Of course,” said Darcy. “Should your father wish to depart from the city, he and the countess are welcome to join us.”
“The House of Lords is still in session, but I shall tell him.”
“NO, I SHALL NOT GO to the north yet,” said the earl when he learned of their plans to leave the city. “Yet I cannot but suppose it is for the best that you do so.”
“Do not concern yourself for what society may say about your early departure,” added Lady Susan. “The season has been a success, for you have proven yourselves capable of moving in their midst. When you return next year, they will accept you more readily.”
“That is well, then,” said William, “though I will own that I am not eager for society.”
“To state the truth,” replied the earl in a voice designed to appear conspiratorial, “I do not much care for it myself.”
Neither William nor Elizabeth said anything further to their comments, other than to thank them for their support, understood between them, as it was, that the opinions of those in society were secondary concerns at best. As it was now the end of May, the exodus from the city had begun; though most would stay a little longer, and those who threw themselves into the season the most would not depart until the end of June, news of families departing had already reached their ears.
“If I might,” said Anne de Bourgh, who had visited in the earl’s company, “I should like to see Pemberley again if it is no bother.” The woman smiled, more genuinely than Elizabeth had seen from her during their acquaintance.
“As Rosings is closed to me at present and I am living with Uncle, I should not like to go to Snowlock alone.”
“Of course, you are welcome to join us,” said Elizabeth, returning her smile. “Do you wish to travel with us?”
Miss de Bourgh shook her head. “Thank you, but I shall travel with Aunt and Uncle.”
Elizabeth nodded, but a sudden thought struck her, and she remained silent for a few moments while conversation persisted around her.
The discourse focused on the realities of traveling between London and Derbyshire, the logistical difficulties of transporting what amounted to a large household between locations separated by one hundred and fifty miles.
The earl’s estate was only a few hours south of Pemberley, such that he was familiar with the endeavor, and he spoke to William for some time about the subject.
In time, when their visitors were about to leave, Elizabeth plucked up enough courage to raise the subject.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Matlock,” said she, arresting any thought of departure, “but I have had a notion about this business with the intruder.”
Curiosity unmistakable, the earl gestured for her to continue. “Please, Mrs. Darcy. What would you like to know?”
Glancing at William to firm her resolution, Elizabeth said: “I do not mean to cast aspersions at anyone, but it occurs to me to wonder if there is a possibility closer to home that we have overlooked. Would Lady Catherine have anything to do with our recent troubles?”
Though he appeared shocked at the notion, Lord Matlock did not dismiss it at once. Instead, he looked to Anne de Bourgh, who appeared stunned by the suggestion—she did not hesitate to respond.
“Six months ago, I would have laughed at the possibility. After witnessing her behavior since Cousin Darcy died, I am uncertain.”
“Has Lady Catherine continued to be difficult?” asked William.
“I have not so much as heard a whisper from her,” said the earl.
When he looked at Miss de Bourgh, she shook her head in denial.
“Surely not,” said Lady Susan. “If Catherine was involved with that, it would imply that she had something to do with Mrs. Younge’s plot to get Georgiana alone.”
“Not necessarily,” replied William. “The intruder was discovered in the family apartments, but his target was not defined. He could have been making for Elizabeth’s chambers as easily as Georgiana’s.”
“While I cannot think that even Catherine is so depraved,” said the earl, “it is a possibility we cannot ignore without investigation.”
“It seems that I must take up the subject with Mrs. Younge,” interjected Colonel Fitzwilliam. “That is no trouble, as it has been several days since I went there to intimidate her.”
The cracking of his knuckles accompanied his jest, and the company settled for groans rather than mirth. Elizabeth had noted the man’s jovial nature often provoked him to instill a little levity into any situation of gravity, little though his comments resulted in mirth at such times.
“And I must go to Rosings,” said the earl with obvious distaste. “As I do not consider this possibility at all likely, I shall wait until after parliament adjourns.”
Elizabeth nodded and did not comment again, and soon thereafter their visitors departed amid promises to meet again in the north. When they were gone, Mrs. Bennet turned to Elizabeth.
“Do you suppose that odious woman is behind all this fuss?”
“I do not,” replied Elizabeth after a moment’s thought.