Susie Darcy's Tenacious Nature

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Are you sure that won’t lead us straight into Covington’s trap?’ Dawlish asked.

  ‘Covington and his men don’t know the lie of the land half as well as I do. I was a fugitive for many months, hiding out around these parts.’ Porter’s confidence reassured James. ‘Trust me, gentlemen. If they are waiting for us, they will not expect us to arrive from that direction, or on foot.’

  ‘Very well,’ James said. ‘Let’s make haste and do this.’

  Half an hour’s fast ride brought them to the point where Porter had suggested they should leave the horses. They dismounted and Porter led the way along a concealed stony path, James close on his heels, his hand never far from the pocket holding his pistol. If Porter decided to try and overpower them, this was the place where he would do it. Tense and alert, James began to relax when they neared the cottage and Porter had done nothing to excite his suspicions.

  ‘There.’

  Porter’s raised arm brought them to a halt behind a large boulder. He pointed directly ahead and James could see a ramshackle cottage standing completely alone in a clearing. Isolated, it was situated to benefit from maximum natural light and would make an ideal hideout for an artist, provided he was comfortable with his own company. There was no smoke coming from the chimney and no obvious signs of movement from within.

  ‘Wait here,’ Porter said. ‘I’ll go and check.’

  ‘I’m coming too.’

  Porter looked set to argue with Dawlish, then shrugged and set off at a crouch, Dawlish on his heels. The two were back within minutes, walking upright. Dawlish appeared to have overcome his suspicion of Porter and they were chatting almost amicably.

  ‘He’s been there,’ Dawlish said. ‘And it looks like he left in a hurry. There still a few of his possessions scattered about and paint splatters all over the place.’

  ‘Damn! Where the hell can be have gone to?’ James asked, not expecting an answer.

  ‘We had best get back to Denton,’ Dawlish said. ‘Not that we’re likely to find the answer there, but it’s as good a place as any to start.’

  They had just reclaimed their horses when they heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching. With no time to conceal themselves, James reached for his pistol, suspicious since no one had passed them in either direction on this isolated road thus far.

  ‘Good God!’ he said, lowering his weapon when Spence reined his horse in beside them. Breathlessly he explained what he had just learned from Susie.

  ‘Miss Darcy in the thick of things again,’ James said, scowling but somehow not surprised.

  ‘This time it wasn’t her fault and she did the right thing by coming directly to me.’

  ‘Bairstow let slip something about Mannering being at this location. We didn’t believe it for a moment but felt the need to check it out,’ James explained. ‘He was here but he isn’t now. Still, at least we know where to find him, which Bairstow couldn’t have anticipated. Is there a back entrance to Covington House that we can use to approach the summerhouse?’

  ‘Follow me,’ Porter said. ‘I have used it several times to consult with Bairstow.’

  They rode hard and fast, reaching the gate in question far quicker than James had imagined possible, which was not nearly fast enough to satisfy him. Susie had not been mentioned again. Her brothers assumed she was still safely at Pemberley but James doubted it. She wouldn’t be able to resist doing…well, something reckless. It was simply not in her nature to sit passively by and allow the men to protect her. By all that was holy, if she had placed herself in danger unnecessarily, he would be the one to administer the thrashing her brother had earlier threatened her with!

  Without bothering to employ stealth, the four men marched down the path and peered through the summerhouse window.

  ‘God in heaven!’ James breathed.

  Mannering was sitting on the floor, a pistol in his hand which he waved carelessly about as he spoke. He appeared to be greatly agitated but the same could not be said for the person to whom he addressed his rants. Susie crouched in front of him, smiling and nodding, encouraging him to talk. She didn’t seem to be aware that Mannering’s finger was on the trigger and that the pistol could discharge at any moment.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  ‘Yes, I can quite see why you are feeling so disgruntled,’ Susie said with a compassionate nod. ‘Your talents have been shamefully exploited.’

  They had been talking for ten minutes. There was no question in Susie’s mind that Mr Mannering had run completely mad. At the same time, having a sympathetic listener appeared to have a calming effect. He’d been living in isolation these past months, she now knew, with no one to talk to other than Covington and his steward, whose visits were sporadic and brief.

  Susie had not succeeded in persuading him to release the pistol. He seemed to have forgotten he was holding it and she was reluctant to remind him for fear of how he might react. She watched him waving it about in a state of considerable agitation, petrified that it would accidentally discharge at any moment. All she could do was keep him talking, agree with everything he said, sympathise and sooth. With great good fortune, once he felt the relief of a burden shared the desire to end his life, or unintentionally end hers, would pass.

  ‘I can’t live with myself,’ he said petulantly. ‘My conscience will not permit it. Mr Tyrell went out of his way to help me develop my talent and I have chosen a dishonourable way to repay him. Well, I didn’t precisely choose, but still I have no one to blame but myself for the situation I find myself in. If I did not gamble…if Bevan hadn’t been so plausible.’ The gun wavered as he flung his hands wide. ‘But it does no good to repine.’

  ‘It seems to me, Mr Mannering, that you are not entirely to blame. And if you kill yourself you will not be able to make restitution.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘What trickery is this?’

  ‘No trickery. Mr Tyrell will understand if you explain matters to him. I am perfectly sure of that. But he will also want to know particulars of which paintings you…well, painted in his style and to whom they were sold. That way, the situation can be rectified.’

  Hope flared briefly in eyes bruised with fatigue but was as quickly extinguished. ‘Even if Tyrell forgives me, I can never forgive myself.’

  He sighed, looking thoroughly sorry for himself. Susie couldn’t abide self-pity. If the situation had been different, if he did not still have possession of the pistol, she might very well have lost patience with him and advised him to take responsibility for his own actions. But it was obvious that the balance of his mind was disturbed and that plain speaking would likely result in one or both of them finishing up dead.

  Susie felt remarkably calm, despite the precariousness of her situation and leaving the summerhouse didn’t once occur to her. Mannering might still shoot himself but she was sure he didn’t wish her intentional harm.

  ‘You have been in seclusion for too long,’ she said kindly. ‘It has played tricks on your mind. Things will seem different when you have had an opportunity to recover from your ordeal.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I—’

  The door crashed opened and James stood there, large and menacing, Spence at his shoulder. Mannering jerked upright and became very agitated once more.

  ‘Calm yourself, Mr Mannering,’ Susie said, endeavouring to remain calm herself and sending James a warning look. ‘Mr Tyrell means you no harm.’

  ‘That I do not, Mannering,’ he said, even though Susie could tell from his chilling expression that he very likely did. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him, presumably realising that too many people crowding in on Mannering would make him nervous. The faces of Spence, Tobias and James’s man pressed against the windows from the outside but Mannering didn’t appear to notice. ‘May I sit down?’

  Since Mannering had destroyed the daybed, the only seat in the summerhouse, James joined them on the floor. He positioned himself between Susie and Mannering’s gun hand. />
  We have been looking for you, Mannering,’ James said. ‘I gather Covington forced you to paint forgeries for his personal gain.’ There was no accusation in James’s voice and just enough sympathy to calm the agitated artist. ‘How did he make you do it?’

  ‘I had debts,’ he said sullenly, ‘and no means of paying them off.’

  He fell into contemplation, rocking backwards and forwards, seeming to forget that he had an audience. James leaned forward and removed the pistol from his slack fingers. Mannering was lost in a maze of his own thoughts and didn’t seem to notice. Susie breathed a little more easily and sent James a grateful smile that he didn’t return. She blew out a frustrated breath. Presumably he was angry with her for speaking with Mannering, when it was no business of his how she conducted herself.

  ‘When I arrived, Mr Mannering was on the point of ending his life in a most desperate manner,’ Susie explained. ‘He feels that he can’t live with his conscience, you see. I managed to persuade him not to and we have been having an agreeable conversation while we waited for you to arrive.’

  ‘You are a gamester, Mannering,’ James said. ‘You felt undervalued because you knew you were a good artist, but in spite of my father’s patronage, you couldn’t make a living from selling your work.’

  Mannering nodded and contemplated his hands, as though he couldn’t decide what had become of the pistol. James had told Susie that Mannering was a brash fellow, unappreciative of the opportunities that had come his way and with an inflated opinion of his own self-worth. All Susie saw was a broken man, whose mind had been destroyed by the avarice of others.

  ‘Bevan ran him down to a gaming hell in Covent Garden,’ Susie explained when it became evident that Mannering had retreated somewhere beyond their reach and probably wasn’t even listening to their conversation. ‘Bevan obviously knew he was one of your father’s most promising students and also knew about his gambling debts. He offered him an opportunity to clear them by doing just one painting in your father’s style. But, of course, once he agreed it didn’t stop at that, and he became theirs to do with as they saw fit.’

  James didn’t look convinced. He probably agreed with Susie’s private thoughts that Mannering could have done a less convincing job of the forgeries, thereby making them impossible to pass off as original Tyrells. Presumably pride, greed, the promise of future riches or a combination of all three had kept him dishonest.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Six so far.’ Mannering had reapplied his fragile mind to their conversation. ‘But they have commissions for two more and are pressing me to complete them.’ He glanced across the room at the ruined canvas. ‘I am unable to oblige them. My well of deceit has dried up and I am ready to face the consequences of my actions.’

  ‘They kept Mr Mannering’s interest by occasionally arranging prize fights for him to attend,’ Susie explained. ‘He had a lot of luck, apparently. With his winnings from those and the payments he received for the forgeries, he had almost cleared his debts. But then, last night—’

  ‘Let me guess.’ James curled his upper lip in contempt. ‘He was encouraged to wager his all against the champion because Covington assured him the challenger was a dark horse and would beat him. He accepted that advice without question because Covington’s predictions had always been correct in the past. But last night all that changed. Covington couldn’t afford to lose his meal ticket.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s the oldest trick in the book. Never mind, Mannering.’ James stood and offered Susie his hand, helping her to her feet. She gratefully accepted it, stamping to restore feeling into her cramped toes after sitting in such an awkward position for so long. ‘I will deal with you later,’ he said in an undertone before helping Mannering up as well. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, slapping the distraught artist’s slender shoulder. ‘How would you like to help us bring Covington and Bevan to book?’ he asked.

  Mannering nodded emphatically, mumbling to himself about retribution.

  The moment they stepped outside the summerhouse, Spence pounced upon Susie.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Perfectly so.’

  ‘What the devil did you think you were doing, accosting an armed man?’

  ‘Had I not done so, he would have killed himself. Then we would not have known any particulars about the forgeries, or been in a position to bring Covington and Bevan to justice. It would have been their word against ours.’ Susie shivered, despite the warmth of the day. A warm coat was draped around her shoulders before she even realised she was cold. The strong masculine aroma that clung to it was so uniquely James that she didn’t need to look up to know that he was the coat’s owner. ‘This way, there is some hope of rectifying matters.’

  Spence nodded, not looking convinced but clearly willing to let the matter rest. For now. Susie was well aware that she hadn’t heard the last of it.

  ‘Where is Bairstow?’ Tobias asked.

  ‘He was to bring me some late luncheon,’ Mannering said. ‘And check on my progress, I don’t doubt.’

  ‘Then he’s in for a surprise,’ Susie said, thinking of the devastation in that summerhouse.

  ‘We need him taken in charge before he sees the mess in there and becomes suspicious,’ James said. ‘Otherwise he will warn Covington.’

  ‘I’ll stay here and attend to it,’ Tobias said. ‘In fact, it would be a pleasure.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ Dawlish said.

  ‘Conceal yourselves on the path and take him by surprise before he reaches the actual building,’ Spence said. ‘Bring him back to Pemberley when you have subdued him but be prepared for him not coming quietly.’

  ‘I hope he does not.’ Susie had never seen Tobias half so angry before and was glad that his murderous expression was not directed towards her.

  ‘I ought to go up to the house and reassure Amelia,’ Susie said.

  ‘Best not,’ James replied. ‘If Bairstow sees you he will be suspicious about your sudden appearance. I assume you were driven over here by Miss Stoughton.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then, you couldn’t have walked ten miles. Miss Stoughton will be in no danger. Write her a few lines, if you like, and Porter can deliver it to her once Bairstow is subdued.’

  ‘What about Covington?’ Spence asked.

  ‘I would suggest that when we are back at Pemberley, you send for the constable to be here when he returns. Have him brought to Pemberley as well, if that is acceptable.’ James glanced at Spence, who nodded. ‘Once we have the two of them there, we can obtain particulars of all the forgeries, who purchased them and so forth. Then we shall decide what is to be done.’

  ‘What of Bevan?’ Susie asked.

  ‘We know he will be in London with his aunt and uncle. He will be easily detained,’ James replied.

  ‘Take my horse, Miss Darcy,’ Tobias said. ‘I will drive Covington over to Pemberley in his own conveyance.’

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  ‘Why is to is quiet?’ Lizzy asked when she returned to Pemberley for luncheon following a morning making calls. ‘Where are Susie and Spence?’

  ‘Come into the library, my love,’ Will replied, placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her in that direction.

  ‘Something is wrong. I can tell from your expression.’ She sent her husband an anxious glance. ‘You are frightening me, Will.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Everything is all right.’ He paused. ‘Now.’

  Will took her hand and led her into the library. Her daughter, both sons and Mr Tyrell were already in possession of the room.

  ‘Our daughter has been putting herself in the direct line of danger,’ Will said, casting Susie a darkling glance. ‘I am at a loss to understand what it is about the females in this family that makes them incapable of behaving as they should.’

  ‘I am perfectly well, dearest Papa, and was never in real danger. Whilst my actions might have been unconventional, they did save the day.’

/>   ‘What actions?’ Lizzy asked. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’

  She listened with increasing horror as Spence explained all that had happened that morning. She reached for Susie’s hand when Spence ran out of words and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She wanted to berate her daughter for her rash behaviour but, at the same time, was inordinately proud of her quick thinking. Such compassion did not deserve censure.

  ‘Mr Mannering only meant to harm himself, Mama,’ she said softly.

  ‘Where is he now?’ Lizzy asked.

  ‘In one of the guest rooms. I called Dominic to him,’ Will said, referring to Georgiana’s husband, a renowned doctor. ‘He said he was physically and mentally exhausted and gave him something to make him sleep. I have a footman watching him, just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘I cannot believe it of Mr Covington,’ Lizzy said, shaking her head. ‘Poor Verity.’

  ‘I think we should pay a call upon Amelia after luncheon, Mama, when we know that Bairstow is safely out of the way,’ Susie suggested. ‘I left her a note that Mr Porter said he would have delivered to her when the time came but still, she will be worried.’

  ‘I will escort you,’ Spence offered with alacrity.

  ‘Perhaps I should invite Amelia to stay with us for a while,’ Lizzy said.

  ‘She has the girls to look after. I doubt whether she will leave them at such a time,’ Will replied. ‘But issue the invitation, by all means.’

  ‘What about Verity?’

  ‘Her place is with her husband, no matter what he has done.’

  Simpson entered the room. ‘Mr Tyrell is here, sir,’ he said, addressing the remark to Will.

  ‘Father?’ James Tyrell looked confused. ‘I did not ask him to come.’

  ‘Have him join us, Simpson.’

  Lizzy watched the door expectantly, keen to meet the famous artist. The gentleman who walked through it bore an uncanny resemblance to his son—or should that be the other way round? He was tall, with a full head of silver hair and a face rendered more handsome with the passing of years. Lizzy thought it most unfair that gentlemen’s appearances improved with age. Be that as it may, she took an immediate liking to their unexpected visitor and shook his hand with great warmth.