Riding through a sudden and relentless storm, wet and tired through to the bones, Richard and Captain Owen finally arrived in Portsmouth.
It was about four o’clock in the morning when they found the address of the local constable. Poor Mr Dayton, a fine and agreeable fellow in his mid-thirties, left the warmth of his bed to meet two soaked-through officers of His Majesty’s Army on his doorstep.
“I am deeply sorry to wake you at this ungodly hour, Constable, but our mission demands immediate action. I am sure you will agree as soon as you are familiar with the details.”
Mr Dayton was not surprised by the information, and quickly ushered the two men inside the house. After a pair of chairs not too fashionable to be ruined by their sloppy attire were provided, they shared their information about the smuggling ship, its supposed contents, and the possibility of such a ship being moored there at Portsmouth .
“Gentlemen, I have received a letter from London last night and was already planning a search in the area at first light. In the meantime, I recommend the Rose and Crown Inn for you to eat and rest. I promise to keep you informed of any news. Have your rest, that I am sure you must need, and meet me again here at eight o’clock. We should have some information by then.”
Richard was glad to see that the place Mr Dayton suggested was comfortable and the owner very attentive, despite the hour. After having eaten and rested until the time suggested, the officers met again at the entrance of the inn and headed towards Mr Dayton’s house to see what information he had.
Mrs Dayton was up now, and tea and fresh bread was served while they talked.
“Colonel, Captain,” Mr Dayton began, “I have conflicting information to share. We have found some small ships loaded with contraband and arrested some men, but there was no sign of any lady. Are you sure your informer is reliable?”
Richard rubbed his forehead. “Mr Duncan, a detective of Bow Street Runners, and my father, Lord Matlock, are the people who provided this information. I cannot believe they were mistaken. Perhaps we should widen our investigation in some other way.”
The three men remained silent for some time.
Mr Dayton stood up. “You are quite right, Colonel. I will request the manifests of all ships and boats moored at this port and we can see if there is anything suspicious. But that will prove to be a time-demanding task,” he said, rubbing his chin. Suddenly, his face lit up. “Ah. I believe I have the perfect solution for that. Maggie dear,” Mr Dayton called, leaving for the kitchen, returning some minutes later with his wife beside him. “Gentlemen, we need to go to church.”
Richard and Captain Owen exchanged surprised glances and hastened their pace to follow Mr Dayton out of the house. While they were on their way, a boy was sent to the port area with further instructions for his men to collect the manifests .
At the church, a group of women of all ages were already gathering. Mr Dayton explained that once a week all the ladies from their village were invited to the church to perform any kind of community service, and it was quite fortunate that this was the day for such an undertaking. His intention was to ask the ladies to read the manifests.
Despite the unorthodox approach, Richard could see the benefits of such a choice. The few men involved in keeping the law in the area were already engaged in searching the port, their task made more difficult by the inclement weather that had not abated since the early hours of that morning.
When the manifests finally arrived, Mr Dayton explained to the ladies what he expected from them, emphasising the great importance of pointing out anything unusual; even the slightest suspicion should be communicated to him personally.
Richard and Captain Owen were amused by the enthusiasm on the women’s faces. They agreed to help, and in no time were reading the papers provided. It did not take more than an hour for one of them to find what she considered to be a very unusual passenger list. Half of the names of the passengers on one of the ships were preceded by the title Miss or Mrs .
The three men smiled. That was it. In this way, the kidnapped ladies were not cargo, but registered passengers — quite likely false names.
The boats and ships had already been inspected, so the remaining option was to go to the local houses, inns and hotels and look for the names that were on the list, claiming to solve some problems before they embarked.
Richard and Captain Owen took part in the searches and, although Portsmouth was not big, it took them half the day to discover that at least one third of the passengers were, in fact, the kidnapped ladies. They were found locked away, waiting to be transported to the ship, which would take them to their final destination.
But where?
It was hard and distressing work to invade houses, break down doors and arrest people, and the sight of some of the young women rescued was heartbreaking; some of them had been kept in dreadful conditions for weeks. How had this business thrived so much under the nose of the authorities?
By midday, reinforcements arrived. Dozens of soldiers from the militia filled the surroundings of Portsmouth and the searches were re-established. More young women were discovered in the neighbourhood. Every house was meticulously searched. The women from the parish were very useful in encouraging their neighbours to open their houses and help with the search, enquiring about strangers in the region, or anything unusual. Dozens of men and women were arrested, letters were written and soon the town was beaming with the results.
But despite all their efforts, there was no sign of Wickham or Miss Elizabeth. If the information received from Lord Matlock was correct, tomorrow a ship would be leaving from a port, wherever it was. And that concerned Richard. Deeply.
Mr Dayton, on the other hand, was beyond satisfied. He was already dreaming about having his name included in the history books as ‘the constable who helped to disrupt a group of international pirates, smugglers and mercenaries in Portsmouth’. With all the twelve Miss and Mrs from the manifest list thoroughly checked, recovered and sent back to their families, he knew he had fulfilled his duty.
“Colonel, I will be forever grateful to you and Captain Owen for your invaluable help. God willing, we have finally put an end to this disgraceful chapter of our country’s history. I believe all outlaws involved, at least here in Portsmouth, were arrested. Thanks to you.”
“Indeed, Mr Dayton. And it is to your credit that we achieved such success,” Richard said thoughtfully. “But my mission is far from over. I am still looking for that particular young lady, and her captor.”
Neither Captain Owen nor Mr Dayton knew what to say. In the end, Mr Dayton offered them a decent hot meal at his home and a place to dry their clothes after many hours in the heavy rain. The invitation was gladly accepted. It was already getting dark when the three men were back at the constable’s house.
During the meal, Captain Owen thought about a possibility. “What if there is another departing point besides Portsmouth?”
Richard straightened his back and frowned while his mind engaged the idea. “That is indeed a possibility, Owen. Do you have a map, Mr Dayton?”
The remaining food and dishes were replaced by a map. It did not take them long to realise the number of possible places those smugglers could be setting off from; too many for their small group to reach in time.
Someone knocked on the door, and Mr Dayton left the table.
Richard groaned. After many hours keeping his temper under control, he was now extremely frustrated and angry. He did not know how to proceed or where to go. In a rare manifestation of lack of self-control, he hit his fists on the table, releasing a strong grunt. “Damn you, Wickham.”
“Richard,” a familiar voice came from behind him. “It seems you are in need of some help.”
Richard turned and gasped. He could hardly believe his own eyes. “Darcy. What the hell?”
~ ? ~
Elizabeth opened her eyes, feeling someone poking her feet.
“Wake up. We have arrived,” Wickham said, leaving the carriage.
The coldness of his words brought Elizabeth back to reality. She tried to move, but her hands and feet were tied, and she felt a sharp pain in her head. A wave of nausea swept over her. An uncontrollable shiver ran down her body as cold and fear invaded her mind once again.
Wickham put his head back inside the carriage and extended a hand holding a small knife and cut the rope.
“Come,” he ordered.
“Where are we?” she mumbled, struggling to stand up.
Wickham grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out. “Brighton.” He looked at her face, now illuminated by some lanterns, and saw the fresh marks he had left on her already bruised face. Guilt shook him to his core. “I am sorry I hit you, but—”
“Do not dare apologise to me for any of this,” Elizabeth interrupted angrily. “If my fate is to be taken away and suffer for the rest of my life, at least one thing will bring me great consolation: that I will never be forced to see your face, ever again!”
Wickham flinched at her words and for a brief moment, he felt ashamed. He could not avoid that inner voice telling him what a monster he had become. But it was too late. He had a deal to close and his neck to save.
The bitter irony of his present situation did not escape him either. Had Brown died the day before, Wickham would not just be free from his debts, but would have avoided this sordid deal he had closed with those pirates — selling them Miss Elizabeth — and would be free to go. Damned fate!
“Very well then. Be it as you wish,” he said turning his attention to his companion. He motioned his head to the man who had been driving the carriage and told him to join them.
Johnson, as the driver was called, took a dagger from his boot, and held Elizabeth by the arm with the sharp object in her back.
As they walked at the weak light of some lanterns, her senses sharpened; the ground beneath her feet turned from sturdy earth to loose and noisy planks of woods; the strong, wet and salty wind, added to water sounds and moored boats hitting against the pier were enough to make her heart freeze. Brighton port. Boats. Sea. The world.
She looked around to see if she could find a way to escape, but the place was empty, with the exception of a couple of men ahead of them. She would never make it.
Approaching the two men, Wickham lifted his hand and Johnson stopped, pulling Elizabeth to a halt with him. Wickham approached the two men. They talked, and when he returned, she knew her fate had been sealed.
It was the end of her life as she had known it .
She thought about Mr Darcy — William — his tender kisses and his words of love, only hoping he was safe. She also thought about her family, and that she would never be able to see them again. Desperation suffocated the tiny bit of hope she had been clinging to.
Despite all the pain, Elizabeth would not let a single tear fall from her eyes. Whatever was ahead of her only God knew, and it was to Him that she commended her soul.
Only a miracle could save her now.
Wickham waved to Johnson, and the man led her inside one of the nearby fishing boats, big enough to accommodate three people. A mumbled sound of voices attracted her attention. She was surprised to see one of the men arguing with Mr Wickham. By the way he was reacting, it was not a good conversation.
“Mr Fisher,” Elizabeth heard Wickham whispering exasperated, “this is not what we have agreed. You said you could take her.”
“And when I agreed to take a passenger to the island, you didn’t mention it was a young woman!” the man hissed back. “You said a person . I don’t care for your troubles, sir, but I’m not taking her in my boat without a chaperone. My missus would be furious! Besides, women bring bad luck on a boat. I can’t be responsible for her safety. I’ll not take her if you don’t come with us.”
Wickham rubbed his hands over his face. “But I cannot go. Johnson,” he called to the man beside Elizabeth. “You go with them. When you are back, I will pay you more than we have agreed.”
Elizabeth turned to Johnson and whispered, “Ah, yes. He is going to pay you as he paid your other fellows.” The man widened his eyes to her. “Oh, he did not tell you about Mr Brown, did he? He is dead. And you will soon follow his fate if you listen to him.”
Johnson looked from Elizabeth to Wickham, then back again, pursing his lips. “I’m not going, sir,” he shouted back. “It’s your plan. You take her.”
Trembling and tightening his fists, Wickham plucked a small bag from his coat pocket and shoved it into Mr Fisher’s hands. “Here, I will pay you more. See? It is all yours! Now, take her with you.”
“I won’t take your money,” Mr Fisher said crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t take her alone. If you want the lady to be delivered, someone needs to come with us. Who is going to deliver her to her father’s house once we get there?”
Wickham raked his hands through his hair, swearing all the vile words he could remember. Was it too much to ask? To hire a boat and send Elizabeth to the pirates in exchange for his life and a little money? Unfortunately, in his haste, he had not thought about this particular detail. Elizabeth was hardly going to leave the boat and run into the arms of a pirate.
He growled, cursing his luck again. That damned soldier from the militia had sold Wickham’s debts to his cousin, Brown. But Brown — may his soul burn in hell for eternity — had his own debts with those pirates and had contacted them promising to pay them with a lady of quality.
Wickham did not want to sell Elizabeth, but when he tried to deal with the situation, things became even uglier. His life was threatened, and a slow and painful death promised — again. Brown and that damned Digory had agreed that Elizabeth’s value would cover Brown’s debts, plus some extra money to make the arrangements necessary to bring her to them. If Wickham failed to supply her, he would be hunted and killed as promised.
All because Brown could not die a day earlier.
It seemed Wickham did not have many options left. He would need to deliver Elizabeth personally. “Fine,” he shouted. “I will go. But you will wait for me to come back, so we can leave the island as soon as possible. I will return her to them, I mean, to her family, and will come back with you.”
At last, they agreed.
Wickham boarded the decrepit small boat thinking that the pirates would not need to kill him after all. With his luck, the sea would take charge of it.
He approached Johnson, who was still holding Elizabeth. “You bloody idiot,” Wickham said quietly, spouting a series of curses and insults again. “Tie her to the berth and lock the door after you, and leave the port as soon as possible. And if you want to see your coins, meet me in two days at the arranged spot.” Then he turned to Elizabeth. “If you cause me any further problems, I swear, I will kill you, or Mr Fisher or whoever else gets in my way. I am a desperate man, Miss Elizabeth. Do not try me.” The rage in his eyes bore testimony to his sincerity.
Mr Fisher at last intervened. “This is no way to treat a lady. It doesn’t matter what she’s done.”
Wickham laughed. “You have no idea what she is capable of. Believe me. She is dangerous.”
Before Elizabeth could protest, Johnson dragged her inside one of the cabins, and did as instructed before leaving.
“Very well,” replied Mr Fisher. “You know her better. We sail at first light.”
“First light?” Wickham roared. “But I thought you… we were leaving now.”
Mr Fisher regarded Wickham with visible disdain. “Nobody sails off in a small boat like ours from a port as busy as this, with low tide in the dark. If there is a ship arriving, they won’t see us. We don’t want that, do we, Mr Wickham?” Wickham shook his head reluctantly. “Dawn should be in about three hours. I suggest you rest for now. You can use my cabin. I’ll stay with my son.”
“How long is it going to take us to arrive at Saint Anne Island?” Wickham asked anxiously. “I need to be there by tomorrow.”
“If the weather holds and we have good winds, we can reach the island in ten to twelve hours, fifteen at the most. Now rest.” Mr Fisher concluded and left.