“Have you ever killed a man, Bingley?” Darcy said to him aside in his study.
“For Geoffrey, I would.”
“I can’t ask you to give up your life for my son. You realize it may come to that. Hatcher may ambush us. And even with Brian there – I’m not as young as I used to be, and neither are you.”
“But I’m still a better shot than you are.”
“True. But I must hear it from Mrs. Bingley that you have her permission.”
“And I must hear it from Mrs. Darcy that you have her permission.”
“You may ask,” he said, “but I already do.”
Bingley rushed off to find his wife, but in the wing of Pemberley the Bingleys had taken over, he first found his eldest daughter, wrapped in a shawl and sitting on the floor, rubbing Gawain’s back. “Papa!”
“Georgiana. Have you seen your mother?”
“She’s with Aunt Maddox,” she said as she rose, readjusting the shawl around her arms. “You’re not going are you?”
“How did you already hear?” Bingley shook his head. “Forget I even asked. Yes, I am going.”
“Papa!”
“I thought you would forever brand me a coward if I didn’t.”
“I would rather have a cowardly father than a dead one,” she blurted, covering her mouth. “Papa, Mr. Hatcher, he’s not a good – ”
“I know. But – ” Further reassurance was halted by his daughter breaking out into tears, so unusual that he broke his sentence off. He imagined she might have cried when they heard Geoffrey was missing, but he had not witnessed her reaction himself, concerned as he was for Darcy. She ran to him and he welcomed her embrace. “I will be all right. Darcy has faced worse foes and lived, and Brian is coming, and he’s the mighty warrior.”
But she just buried her head into his shoulder and sobbed. He put a hand over her hair, so much like his in both color and length. Edmund was the only other redhead of the Bingley children. “I’ll be all right. We all will. But we have to do this for Geoffrey.”
“I know he’s hurt. But he’s strong – and he can’t die. That’s what the locket means. I know what it means and if he dies then it means nothing.”
He managed to smile. “So you figured it out, did you?”
“You think you’re so clever,” she snickered, trying to wipe her tears away with the edge of her shawl.
“And you are your father’s daughter. Which I’m not particularly proud of, if you’re planning something foolish. And I know you are planning something for his return. Am I wrong?”
She said nothing.
“See? I’m not wrong. I am very clever.” He kissed her on her head. “The shaman in India set that locket. I didn’t know the name – just what it was set to. Though I wasn’t very surprised.” He squeezed her hand, which was more calloused than it should have been, for a proper lady. But Georgiana was not really a proper lady except when she wanted to pretend to be. She was something special, and he loved her for it. (That said, it was nice to have a more conventional daughter like Eliza to balance it out) “Geoffrey will get through this. We all will. I promise you that.”
“Well, then you’d better keep your promise,” she said, and hugged him once more.
******************************************
Darcy was briefly called away from his office to the Maddox chambers, where he found Brian and Nadezhda Maddox with a vast amount of Oriental gear lying about, much of it some kind of strange armor. “I assume Pemberley is lacking a suit of armor?” Brian said.
“Nor would I know how to manage in one.”
Nadezhda presented him with a small square plate, with a small bend to it, and a looped buckle. “Put it over your heart, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said. “Do you have a spare one for Bingley?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have a spare one for my kidneys? Because I feel that one spot is particularly unlucky,” he said, remembering keenly the location of a near fatal wound caused by Wickham.
Brian smiled and sorted through the bag to produce some plated armor sewn together with bright orange threads. “It’ll be a bit awkward under your coat if they see you from the back.”
“I’ve no intention of showing them my back, or fighting them at all. These are merely precautions.”
“Speaking of precautions,” Nadezhda said, “we made fireworks for you.”
“For your rifles,” Brian said, producing a brown package. “You load one in and fire it into the sky. It sets off a small bit of fireworks that can be seen for miles away. The colors will indicate if we’re in distress, and where to find us.”
“Brilliant. What else?”
“Oh, I’m your samurai and I’ll kill them all without hesitation if need be.”
Darcy smiled. “I’ve never been happier to have you as a cousin, Mr. Maddox.”
“And I’ve never been happier to be a collector of Oriental armor and military knick-knacks, Mr. Darcy.”
******************************************
That night, Darcy’s steward took great care to streamline everything so that Darcy was finished at a reasonable hour, whereupon he kissed each of his nephews, nieces, and daughters goodnight in turn. He inquired after his wife, and to his surprise, was told she was in the chapel.
“Elizabeth?” he called out, not finding a particularly good place for knocking on the stone walls. She was seated in the second of the three tiny rows of pews. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I was just – thinking.”
He sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I know.”
“Do you think Grégoire’s gotten our letter by now?”
“I’m sure Georgiana has. Grégoire, maybe. But I like to think he continually keeps us in his thoughts, busy as he may be with his own family and his writing.” He looked at his pocket watch. “He’ll be up in a few hours to pray, anyway, while sensible people are sleeping.”
“I heard about the armor.”
“It’s only a precaution. I have no intention of fighting Hatcher and his men.”
She tightened her grip on his hand.
“I’m not going to put myself in danger if nothing will come of it. I promise.” He kissed her. “But I will do anything to save our son.”
She squeezed tighter. “We have three other children.”
“I know. And I would do the same for them. With that said, I would prefer if Robert Kincaid did not have to inherit Pemberley.” Realizing it was too terrible to even imagine, not because of the qualities of the toddler but because of the implication of the death of the first heir, he said, “Geoffrey will be all right. Who knows? Perhaps he will be safe at home tomorrow night and wake in his own bed, having no idea that any of this occurred.”
That at least put a smile on her face. “Perhaps.”
But until then, they could only hope.
******************************************
The last to retire and the first to rise, Brian Maddox and his wife Nadezhda, Princess of Transylvania, began his preparations. He sat on a stool as she ritually shaved the front of his head. “Did you swear to protect Darcy?”
“Yes.”
“And if you fail?”
“I didn’t say it, but I will commit seppuku.” He looked down as she took the back of his hair and tied it up before applying the layers of wax that would be needed to keep it in place on the top of his head in the perfect topknot. The fact that his hair was curly didn’t help at all. “But only if you promise not to follow me.”
“I can’t leave Georgiana. I promised Mugin I would watch over her,” she said, “until she has proven herself.”
He could not move because of the application of the wax, but he tensed and said, “Did he say what he meant by that?”
“I know what he meant.”
“Did you tell Bingley?”
“It’s none of his business. Or yours.” She pulled away, an
d wiped her hands off before draping the first layer of kimono over his shoulders. “I only told you because I had to. Otherwise I would follow you.”
“I would dispute that, but since you won’t be doing it anyway, I’ll save my breath.” He tied up his kimono and took the chest gear, layers of metal plates laced together with alternating green, white, and orange cords, against his chest so she could tie it in the back. “You could have a life without me, though.”
“I’ll decide whether I want to follow you or not when I can,” she said. “And you won’t be around to stop me. But do try not to die.”
He smiled, breaking from tying up his shoulder pads to lean over and kiss her. “I love you. You know that?”
She responded with a kiss. Beyond that, there were many layers to apply in his complicated uniform, complete with the back flag. She only had time to sew the Maddox crest onto a white linen sheet that would flutter in the breeze behind him. “This will make you a moving target, you realize.”
“Death is supposed to be the first thing a samurai accepts.”
Last, he thrust his short sword into his obi, and she handed him his long katana, bowing to him as she offered it as he bowed to accept it, “Don’t accept it so easily.”
His smile was his best way of telling her he agreed.
Chapter 15 – Wolf of Derbyshire
“I’m just saying, is – ”
“What are you saying, Mr. Blackwood?”
Geoffrey could barely distinguish their voices at first. Hatcher and Jenkins he knew, and it seemed as if Dr. Maddox was talking to him about his dog, but how was that possible? It hurt just to think about it. But sometimes there was only sound, and he listened.
“Do you want out?” Hatcher said. Some noises in the background. “Are you going to run away like a coward?”
“I didn’t come here to attack a kid and then shoot Mr. Darcy.”
“Do you want him to rule over these poor people?”
“Doesn’t mean I want ta kill him!”
Kill ... Darcy? His father? If I could move! But even understanding what was happening was beyond him. Was he just dreaming? If so, did his dream really have to hurt so much?
“Let ‘im go,” Wallace said. “He doesn’t want to do it, he’s just gonna hold us back.”
There was another sound. A gun cocking? Were they getting ready to shoot someone? Why was he wet?
“It’ll be all right, Master Geoffrey,” Jenkins said, closer now. Maybe it was Jenkins who was caring for him. Why did his mouth taste like syrup? For a long time now, he had only been barely conscious of many unfamiliar sounds and nothing else but slight sensations of feeling that he usually just forgot about them and gave in to the blackness.
“Go, then,” Hatcher said, and there was some more ruffling, and no more.
“Don’t blame him,” said the third man, with a voice Geoffrey didn’t know. “He’s just gun shy. What the feck are those?”
“Silver bullets,” Hatcher said. He had a very distinct middle class voice, almost proper sounding. It made him easier to tell apart from the others.
“Yer serious about this wolf crap.”
“It wasn’t a wolf. It was – I don’t know.”
Howling.
“Feck.”
“I know. Let’s be done with this.”
“What if he just gives us the deeds and the money? Can’t we let him go?”
“When he sees his son, he’ll never let us go. We’ll be the most hunted men in Britain. Don’t you know that?”
There was some more talking, but it was too soft and Geoffrey was so tired. It was hard to strain to hear them. It seemed like he had less and less energy. The blackness was overwhelming.
“Let’s go. Jenkins, let him get some air if you want. Otherwise, you know what to do.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Mr. Hatcher, sir.”
“Shut the feck up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Poor Mr. Jenkins. Did he have enough coal? Did I remember to bring him the coal? Wait? Why am I worrying about that?
But the noise was too rattling. He decided to let the blackness come for him again, and not to fight it, until all those noisy people that made his head ache so much worse were gone.
******************************************
“Be careful,” Elizabeth said as she kissed her husband good-bye.
“You know I will.” He took one look at Brian, emerging from the house, his armor making a ching-ching sound as he walked, his back flag flapping in the early morning wind. “I have that maniac to protect me.”
She clutched at his vest. Beneath it lay a small plate of armor. “Be careful anyway. I think Nadezhda wants her husband back in one piece, too.”
“I think he lost his last piece years ago,” Bingley said, and gave a nervous smile to his wife before embracing her. “I said good-bye to the children.”
“Don’t do anything too stupid,” Caroline said to her brother.
“You were always the most supportive sister,” Charles replied, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Do as Caroline said,” Nadezhda said to Brian, handing him his black metal triangular hat.
“You’re the best, Nady,” he said before mounting his horse, and with many final good-byes from servants, children, and Dr. and Lady Maddox, the three of them were off. There was no reason to rush, and they didn’t want to tire their horses, or themselves. Along with two pistols and a rifle, Darcy carried a satchel full of legal documents that wouldn’t hold up in any court. In the other satchel was fifty thousand pounds in bank notes.
“Darcy, do you realize something?” Bingley said after some time.
“I realize a lot of things, Bingley. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Potter’s Field is not very far from that mine that collapsed. The one you sold to the Duke of Devonshire?”
Darcy frowned. “No. It isn’t.” He shook his head as he made the connection Bingley just had. “Idiot! Why didn’t we think to search that area?”
“The mine?”
“Yes! And then we could’ve found Geoffrey and not had this nonsense with Hatcher!”
“What’s done is done,” Brian said. “It might have been another false lead. We did the best we could to get to this point, Darcy. Let’s not waste the chance we have.”
******************************************
From the beginning, Mark Blackwood hadn’t liked the whole business.
Sure, there were the injustices that Michael Hatcher talked about. And Mark wouldn’t mind a piece of land for himself, not rented or anything – not that he had one that he rented currently. He did look up at the dandy lords passing by in their fancy carriages and snort, thinking ‘What gives them the right to be more comfortable than him?’
He was a smart man. He liked to think he was, anyway, before involving himself in this, but by the time he realized how bad this was, it was too late. Hatcher had royally messed it all up in one move by hitting the Darcy’s son hard enough to almost kill him. “We’ll hang for this,” Mr. Graham had said, and Graham was right. They couldn’t cover it up, not without killing Jenkins as the witness. At first Hatcher’s ransom plan seemed good, almost like he had planned it, even though he hadn’t. It was the best idea. As much as Mark Blackwood had little good to say of the rich, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing old Mr. Jenkins just because that damned kid came by while they happened to be at his house to talk with him about joining them. And with a donation of coal, too! Made him seem almost noble – and in the good way. Not in the fancy “nobility” way that Hatcher always talked about it.
Mark was used to hiding in the woods. That wasn’t a problem. But when the fancy London doctor came and said how bad it was, he knew right then they were fecked, and Hatcher knew it too. They all knew it. Maybe Hatcher would have made a deal the next day, had he not gotten attacked by some animal that he then imagined to be a werewolf. A werewolf! Got silver bullets and everything! The man wasn’t
just suicidal – he was mad! Mark didn’t care how many riots and mobs Hatcher had escaped from without being caught and marked as a Radical – he was boggy in the head and that was that, and now he was going to kill a bunch of people just to get away. Well, Mark Blackwood would have none of that. If Hatcher would let him go, he would walk away. He would walk to the tip of Scotland if he had to, but he would manage. He’d done it before, and it was better than killing someone.
Mark had stopped to rest and wash his face in a stream when the arrow came. It grazed his ear, landing soundly in the ground next to him.
“That was a warning,” came the muffled voice from behind. “Where’s Geoffrey Darcy?”
He spun around, but the pistol was knocked out of his hand with a kick, and a second knocked him right against a tree. He fell, looking down at wooden shoes and furry feet. “Holy feck – ”
But his attacker was not in the mood for games. “Geoffrey Darcy,” he said, his long metal claws protruding ominously from the paws.
“Jus’ let me go,” he said. “’e’s – by the mine. Down that way.”
The wolf-man paused only to retrieve his arrow, and turned in the direction indicated, and left with a leap that took him into the stream. How did he move like that? And in those shoes?
He wasn’t interested in questioning the most bizarre thing he had seen in his life. Once in a lifetime was enough. He had the rest of his life to ponder it, so he got up and kept running, in the opposite direction.
******************************************
“Come now, Master Darcy – maybe the sun will warm you a little.”
Jenkins removed the tent flap. He might as well take it down – he had a feeling Hatcher would not be returning, whether he was successful in any scenario or not. Jenkins prayed that he wasn’t. He crossed himself and focused on Geoffrey, laying down a blanket across the dry patch of leaves and setting the boy gently down.
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 16
