Darcy and Deception

by Victoria Kincaid

  Colonel Forster exhaled. “You are aware of Wickham’s treachery.”

  “Yes, but I did not know you were also pursuing Wickham until Miss Bennet informed us yesterday.” Darcy hoped the colonel would not inquire as to how or when they had spoken with Elizabeth.

  The other man slammed his hand on the desk. “Damn the Home Office! They cannot coordinate even the simplest things.”

  Richard smiled with no warmth. “I don’t disagree. However, at the moment my purpose is to locate Wickham. If I follow him, perhaps he will lead me to Harrison.”

  Colonel Forster ran fingers through his thinning hair. “There is a dilemma. Wickham was here on a morning visit with some other officers, but he received a letter—supposedly about a sick friend—and departed rather abruptly. At the time I barely noted it, but now I believe the odds are good that it pertains to Harrison.”

  “Blast!” Richard said. “If only we had arrived a little earlier.”

  The colonel shook his head rather frantically. “You don’t understand. Miss Elizabeth was in the drawing room as well.” A cold feeling started to grow in the pit of Darcy’s stomach. “She slipped out of the room immediately after Wickham left and did not return. When you arrived, I was preparing to go in search of her.”

  “She went with him!” Darcy exclaimed.

  “Or she is following him,” the colonel said.

  Darcy silently agreed that was the more likely explanation.

  “Do you have any conjectures as to where Wickham might have gone?” Richard asked.

  The colonel sighed. “No. If the note was from Harrison, they could be meeting anywhere in Brighton.”

  “And Elizabeth with them!” Any number of ghastly outcomes occurred to Darcy. Wickham had probably killed once; he would not hesitate to do so again. Darcy wanted to pace, but the room was too cramped, so he found himself shifting restlessly on his feet.

  The colonel regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Pardon my curiosity, but what precisely is your interest in this matter, Mr. Darcy?”

  They had no time to waste on idle curiosity! Darcy suppressed an impulse to shout at the man. As Elizabeth’s guardian, the colonel had a right to know, and they would be working together. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is my cousin, and Wickham has been long known to my family—having caused us many difficulties.”

  Colonel Forster’s skeptical expression suggested that Darcy had not sufficiently explained his reaction. “Also”—Darcy blew out a breath; he hated laying his affairs bare before strangers—“I am hoping to persuade Miss Elizabeth to become my wife.”

  “You are?” The colonel’s eyebrows shot upward. “But I thought her family…”

  “Yes?” Darcy watched the other man steadily, daring him to finish the sentence. Did he have the audacity to find Elizabeth unworthy? When the colonel did not continue, Darcy explained, “I traveled to Brighton for the sole purpose of protecting her from Wickham, since I knew him to be a blackguard of the first order.”

  Forster stiffened. “I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to her.”

  Darcy bared his teeth, finished with any pretense of politeness. “With all due respect, sir, I am more familiar with Wickham’s machinations than you are.”

  “I was tasked with her safety by her father,” the colonel growled.

  “Yes, you were. And where is she now?”

  Forster abruptly deflated, collapsing into the chair behind his desk. “Very well. Point taken.” He massaged his forehead with one hand. “What should our first step be?” he asked Richard. “Should we seek Harrison or Wickham first?”

  Darcy slammed his fist on the desk’s mahogany surface, causing Forster to flinch. “Our first task is finding Miss Bennet. She could be in grave danger!”

  Forster blinked. “Yes, yes, of course. We can search the town for her.” He stood, no doubt eager to quit Darcy’s presence.

  Darcy’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Do you have men who may assist with the search?”

  The man paused on his way to the door. “A few. But it’s a delicate situation; I can only share this information with men I can trust.”

  Darcy nodded. “Then let us collect them so we may start searching.”

  ***

  Elizabeth was certain the man she observed was Harrison. The stranger had met with Mr. Wickham near one edge of the Steyne. After a quick and animated conversation, the two men had parted, leaving in opposite directions. Hoping to discover where Harrison was staying, she had elected to follow him.

  He was a small, thin man with a narrow face and nervous eyes. Wearing a brown coat and equally brown hat, he melted indistinguishably into the crowds of visitors thronging the busy streets near the green. Following him had been difficult, but Elizabeth had managed to keep pace without alerting him to her presence

  He came to an intersection of several streets, teeming with carriages, horses, and people walking in every direction. With only a cursory glance around, the man dove directly into the melee. Very well. Elizabeth took a deep breath and followed.

  Only to find her way blocked by a man on horseback.

  Huffing with impatience, she tried to duck around the rear of the horse, but the animal moved backward to block her again. Elizabeth shot an irritated glare up at the rider, only to find she was glaring at the face of Mr. Darcy.

  “That is Harrison!” she hissed at him, pointing to the man. “He is escaping!”

  Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Finding Mr. Harrison is not your responsibility. It is too dangerous.”

  She did not have time to argue. Growling at Darcy under her breath, she feinted left. As the horse moved to block her, she jumped to the right, skirting around the horse’s rear and plunging into the intersection. But Harrison was gone. Elizabeth turned in a circle, peering down every street, but there was no sign of a short man in a brown coat. Blast!

  Before she could decide on her next move, a hand grabbed her elbow, and Mr. Darcy pulled her out of the street to relative safety under a shop’s awning; his horse was tied up nearby. She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Do not lay hands on me, sir!”

  He immediately backed away, conspicuously not touching her, but his stormy expression suggested an apology would not be forthcoming. “What were you about?” he demanded gruffly.

  Elizabeth spoke through gritted teeth. “I hoped to learn where Mr. Harrison lodges so Colonel Fitzwilliam could apprehend him.”

  “Colonel Forster would not want you to do something so dangerous.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “It is a curious thing, but I do not recall putting myself under Colonel Forster’s command—or yours, sir!” Blood was boiling in her veins, and it was all she could do to keep her voice low. “You are in no position to make decisions for me. You are not my father. You are not even my host!”

  Mr. Darcy’s mouth opened and then closed again.

  If she remained, there was a grave danger Elizabeth might say something she would regret. “Good day.” Whirling around, she strode away from him as rapidly as she could manage.

  “Elizabeth, wait!” She did not slow her pace, but Mr. Darcy hurried to catch up with her. “How did you know that man was Harrison?”

  “I do not. Not for certain,” she admitted. “But Mr. Wickham met with the man when he was supposed to visit a sick friend. He must be connected to his nefarious activities somehow. They did not speak long, and I suspect they made plans to rendezvous tonight. But I could not hear what they said.” She was still walking but had slowed her pace. Her anger at Mr. Darcy should not interfere with the larger mission.

  The next minute passed in silence as they marched toward Colonel Forster’s house. Then Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I apologize. I should have at least ascertained your purpose before stopping you. I have been seeking you for more than an hour, imagining the many different ways you might have been hurt. I reacted rather badly.”

  As Elizabeth paused on a street corner, she examined his face. Worry lines were etch
ed around his mouth, and his eyes were shadowed by dark circles. “I accept your apology.” His shoulders sagged. “However, I will not—I cannot—countenance a friend who does not trust my judgment—even in matters concerning my own safety.”

  His eyes searched hers for a moment. No doubt he understood—as she intended—that she would refuse to marry such a man. “I understand.” He nodded slowly. “I will attempt to keep my…impulses under regulation.”

  It was a remarkable promise from a man like Mr. Darcy. The master of Pemberley was certainly accustomed to having his own way in all things. “I thank you, sir. Now, we should return to Colonel Forster’s house to discuss what I have learned.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As they strolled back to Forster’s house, Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm while he held the reins for the horse plodding behind them. Elizabeth was uncharacteristically silent. Was she still fuming about his interference, or was she more concerned about losing Harrison?

  There was no question that he had made a mull of it.

  He had been aware—in a rather theoretical way—that women did not like being told what to do. However, he had believed that the rule applied to situations like how to wear their hair. Or who to befriend. Or what to serve for dinner. Darcy had been concerned for Elizabeth’s safety! Surely different rules should apply.

  Apparently not.

  He was not a stupid man. It had been drilled into him from a young age that he must protect women, but he could understand how Elizabeth might see his protective instincts as…meddlesome…high-handed…condescending.

  I have much to atone for.

  His first impulse had been to defend himself, but he had suppressed it. He was trying to demonstrate that he could attend to Elizabeth’s rebukes and change his behavior. It was the only way to win her hand—and her heart.

  Elizabeth believed her life was hers to do with as she pleased—much as most men did. It was only fair, and yet he struggled with the idea; it was not how he was accustomed to thinking of women. Yet he needed to be comfortable with the idea if he wanted her to marry him—to love him.

  I should be grateful she accepted my apology. He was also slightly heartened that she had essentially warned him she would not marry a man who behaved in a high-handed way. Such a warning would be entirely unnecessary if she believed she would never entertain another proposal from him.

  Perhaps I am no longer the last man in the world she would consider marrying. That thought alone put more spring in Darcy’s step.

  Darcy tied up his horse outside Forster’s house, and they hurried through the front entrance. Both colonels had recently returned and convened in the study. They were relieved to see Elizabeth and eagerly listened to her report. When she described the man she had seen, Richard nodded vigorously. “Yes, that is Harrison.”

  “Very well, we know Harrison has made contact with Wickham.” Forster sank into his chair and gestured for the others to take seats. “What should we do next?”

  “I could exert some pressure on Wickham. With the right incentive—say, leniency in sentencing—he might reveal the plans,” Richard said.

  Forster grimaced. “That is only possible if we can find Wickham. The man has not returned to his barracks. I have someone watching out for him, but I would imagine he’ll remain inconspicuous until this situation is resolved. Getting Harrison to France is a more important task than Wickham and his friends have ever undertaken before.”

  “Harrison will ship out tonight if he can,” Richard observed.

  “But from where?” Darcy asked.

  “The cave!” Elizabeth exclaimed, exchanging a look with Colonel Forster.

  He nodded. “Indeed.” His eyes fell on Richard and Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth induced Wickham to show her the location of a cave in the cliffs to the east of Brighton. I surveyed the location myself, and there is no doubt it is being used by smugglers. It is far enough from the town that it would make an excellent point of departure for a small boat.”

  “Good work.” Richard nodded approvingly at Elizabeth. “When would they depart?” he asked Forster.

  The other man stroked his chin. “No doubt they will sail at night. The tide will be high at ten o’clock tonight. I could lead a team of men…recruit a few officers I may trust.”

  Richard was on the edge of his seat. “I will accompany you. I have longed to apprehend Wickham, and Harrison must be my prisoner. The Home Office wants me to bring him in for questioning.”

  Forster nodded. “I will be happy for any assistance.”

  “We must be in place by nine so as to arrive undetected,” Richard said.

  The two soldiers shook on the plan.

  “Wickham has grown even more lax in his duties recently,” the colonel said. “He may be planning to accompany Harrison to France. It is only a matter of time before he retreats across the Channel to enjoy whatever gold Napoleon has promised him.”

  “Does he guess the Home Office suspects him?” Elizabeth asked.

  Forster shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps he is staying one step ahead of his creditors. I am sure he works with at least one other person. I had hoped to learn how he was obtaining such secretive information. Did he give you any clues, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She shook her head. “He surprised me sometimes about what he knew about troop movements, but I never witnessed him visiting your study.”

  “Was he intercepting your post?” Darcy asked.

  “Possibly. I will have someone investigate it.” Forster turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, fortunately I believe your part in this scheme is at an end, but your assistance has been invaluable.”

  She smiled and blushed. “I am pleased I could be of help.”

  Richard frowned. “Miss Elizabeth, is it possible Harrison noticed you following him?”

  Her forehead furrowed. “I tried to be discreet, but at times it was difficult to remain concealed. So I believe it is possible.”

  Darcy exchanged an anxious glance with his cousin, but before he could say anything, Forster spoke up. “Then I would like you to remain out of sight for the remainder of the day. If you encountered Wickham or Harrison, you could be in jeopardy.”

  Elizabeth grimaced, but she nodded. “I will.”

  The militia officer turned a slightly less benevolent expression on Darcy. “I thank you for the role you have played, but I do not believe we will be in need of your further assistance.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “My primary aim has been to keep Miss Bennet safe. I am happy to leave the apprehension of spies to professional soldiers.”

  The colonel nodded; no doubt he was relieved not to have civilians bumbling about and complicating what had become a military operation. And with that, the war council was adjourned.

  ***

  Elizabeth had worried that Mr. Darcy would insist on being her constant companion and guardian for the remainder of the day. However, he merely extracted a promise from her not to leave the colonel’s house. Since he planned to be absent much of the day, the colonel had arranged for a few trusted officers to guard his house until the men were captured.

  She chafed at the restrictions but reminded herself of the dangers; it appeared more and more probable that Mr. Wickham had killed Mr. Denny. She shivered, recalling how she had been alone with the officer: a man who was capable of murdering such a friendly, affable man. Happily, everything would be resolved by tonight. The colonels would arrest the traitors, and Elizabeth would return to Hertfordshire.

  And what would happen with Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth could not say. She was unsure what she would even like to occur.

  An entire day spent indoors did wear on her nerves. She embroidered until the sight of a needle nauseated her and drank enough tea to float a ship. On a day when Elizabeth would have been happy for some company, Mrs. Forster was out of town visiting friends. Surprisingly, Lydia had not been invited, so the youngest Miss Bennet lolled about the drawing room complaining of boredom and eating biscuits until she retired
to her bedchamber with a stomach ache.

  The forced inactivity provided Elizabeth with far too much time to think. What was Mr. Darcy doing at that moment? Was he thinking of her? Would he accompany them home to Longbourn? Would he continue to court her?

  How her sentiments had altered since Kent! Most of her thoughts about him were now quite positive. Yes, he had been high-handed, but he had also listened to her remonstrances and exhibited a willingness to change—a rare characteristic in a man, or indeed any person. He wanted to improve his behavior—for her sake. Forget flowers and jewels; Elizabeth would defy any woman to guard her heart in such circumstances.

  Oh! I am beginning to fall in love with Mr. Darcy!

  Her embroidery fell, forgotten, into her lap.

  In love? With Mr. Darcy? Is it possible?

  Gently she probed her sentiments as one might explore a sore tooth—and concluded that not only was it possible, it was likely.

  Being in his presence so frequently had shown Elizabeth how much pleasure she derived from his company. He was witty and cultured. He had good morals and a strong character. He was, in fact, everything a gentleman should be. And now Elizabeth was no longer blind to how much he cared for her. He was concerned for her safety, her happiness, and her good opinion, demonstrating his love in many ways.

  And she was beginning to reciprocate.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. What could this mean? She had assumed that he wooed her with the intention of making another offer of marriage, but what if he did not? The very thought made her shiver.

  On the other hand, she should be careful what she wished for. Did she truly want another proposal? It would only make sense if she planned to give him a different response from the previous proposal. Would she?

  Elizabeth pictured Mr. Darcy making another offer, and she imagined herself opening her mouth to respond with…

  Here, her imagination failed her. She did not know her response. I suppose it is fortunate he has not asked the question.