by Jennifer Joy
The thief-catcher with the knife pushed them down a dark alleyway where a carriage was waiting.
Elizabeth looked behind her at William. This was it. This would be the end. Her stomach churned, but she refused to give in to despair. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth clenched her numb fingers into fists. She wanted to live a long life with the man she loved, and her sister needed her as much as Miss Darcy needed William. Elizabeth had too much to lose to give up now.
She kept her eye on the man who had tied them. He had disappeared up by the horses, leaving them alone with the thief-catcher holding the knife and gun.
That horrible man punched William in the ribs, sneering, “You will get worse than this for betraying the Crown, but you can take comfort that your capture will make me a rich man.”
Elizabeth turned to face him. “You coward. You would strike a man with bound hands?”
Quicker than she could flinch, the man produced a cloth from his pocket and shoved it into her mouth, gagging her with the force he pressed it against the back of her throat. He hissed, “Would you rather me turn my attention to you, miss? You are a pretty thing. There is no reward for you, but I can think of ways to benefit from your capture.”
William butted him in the face with his head.
The thief-catcher cursed, grabbing his nose with one hand, but he did not drop his knife.
“Into the carriage,” he ordered, nodding to his accomplice who had secured another rope with which he tied William’s bound hands to his feet.
Elizabeth looked around her for anything of use. It was impossible to see much in the dark alleyway.
When the thief-takers tried to force her into the carriage, she kicked her legs, stamped on the tops of their boots, and flung her head back as she had seen William do to stall for time and inflict what damage she could to their captors. Once they were inside that carriage, there would be little they could do.
She put up a respectable fight, but the men were stronger than she was. Elizabeth soon found herself sprawled face first against the filthy carriage squab.
Squirming around until she sat upright, Elizabeth flexed her wrists and strained against the ropes to see if she might wiggle free.
Oh, if only she could speak! She had plenty to say.
She heard William’s smooth baritone behind her. “If you will turn in your seat, I will try to loosen your ropes. It may accomplish nothing, but we have to try.”
Elizabeth did as she was bid, imagining William with his knees bent up around his ears so he could reach her. It would have provided her no little amount of glee on any other day, but today, it made her angry at the brutes who had captured them.
William’s fingers fumbled around her wrists. When the carriage turned the corner, she felt his leather boots against her skin.
The rope gave ever so slightly, restoring her hope. Instinctively, she pulled against them.
“Hold still, or I will never get these undone,” pleaded William just as the carriage lurched to a stop, sending both of them tumbling to the floor.
Fortunately for Elizabeth, she landed on top of William. She twisted her neck up to see him, afraid she had added to his injuries with her pointy elbows. Sprawled out like a frog as he was, there was nothing he could do to protect himself.
Elizabeth turned and wiggled upward to better see him. “Did I hurt you?” she asked.
William confirmed her worry with a throaty groan. “You will be the death of me if you do not stop wiggling about,” he complained.
Wait, they had stopped. Why had they stopped?
The carriage door opened, and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s grinning face appeared.
The colonel clucked his tongue. “I leave you two alone for one day, and look at the trouble you get in…” His words trailed off suggestively.
Elizabeth tried to speak over her gag to no avail.
“We must move,” he said, climbing into the coach, careful not to step on either of them. The colonel tapped on the roof, whereupon the carriage continued forward.
In no time at all, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his pocket knife restored order inside the carriage, and he settled back against the cushions. "Really, the sooner you marry, the better," he teased.
Elizabeth was grateful for the darkness disguising the embarrassment covering her face.
They drove through winding, narrow streets while the colonel delayed her and William’s questions. “We are nearly there and will have to act in haste,” he said.
They turned onto another street, continuing at a slow pace. Elizabeth walked faster than the carriage moved. She was about to inquire why they traveled so slowly when Colonel Fitzwilliam opened the carriage door. “Jump out as closely together as possible at my signal,” he said.
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, bracing herself against both sides of the open door, thankful for their current pace now.
“Go,” said the colonel.
He must have shoved William from behind because William’s weight propelled Elizabeth forward through an open doorway.
She had hardly caught her balance when the colonel stepped beside her and William, pulling them further inside the building.
The carriage was gone. It had never stopped.
A young man closed the door behind them, and Elizabeth took a moment to survey her surroundings. They were inside a residence, warm with lit candles and rugs covering the floor.
The colonel seemed to know his way around. He led them through a receiving parlor with several chairs arranged around the fireplace to a smaller room where a woman sat writing letters at a table.
On seeing them, she gathered her papers and rose to greet them with a smile as warm as the room. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, what a pleasure to see you again. I am delighted your plan met with success.” The woman surveyed William and Elizabeth with the attention of a loving mother.
Colonel Fitzwilliam introduced them to Mrs. Edith Fuller, the owner of the establishment. She let rooms to surgeons’ apprentices and law clerks (who were all conveniently visiting their families for the upcoming holidays.)
With a ring of a bell, Mrs. Fuller signaled for a meal to be served.
She satisfied their curiosity as she poured tea. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has been a good friend over the years. He has recommended several gentlemen who pay the rent on time and do not cause trouble in my home, and for that I am eternally grateful,” she smiled widely.
Elizabeth commented, “The colonel makes friends wherever he goes.”
William covered a wince with a weak smile, and Elizabeth regretted her compliment. Where was the gag when she needed it? If anyone in the room gave a bad first impression, it was William. Unlike his charismatic cousin, he did not make friends easily. William required more time and patience. Once people grew to know him, they loved him. Elizabeth did.
Once their meal was served, Mrs. Fuller departed, leaving them to converse with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“I called on my mother and father, and I told them everything you had discussed with me the evening before, as well as the measures I have taken since,” he said.
William asked, “Did your batman have any difficulty returning the horses to the blacksmith’s paddock?”
“Given the hour Wilson arrived at the village, he was able to slip them into the paddock without being noticed.”
William nodded. “What about the payment? I do not wish for Lord Chadwell to have any complaint against Bingley or me. It is why I asked Wilson to help return the horses.”
The colonel set down his glass of wine. “You overestimate my income, my dear cousin. I could not send the amount you suggested, nor would I have instructed my batman to leave it where anyone could have stolen it. No, I wrote a note explaining that payment would be made to cover his inconvenience and smooth over this misunderstanding as soon as it could be arranged.”
“Very good.”
Elizabeth asked, “How did your batman hear about Mr. Bingley and Jane if nobody was about?” She prayed that maybe
she had misread the note.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s thick eyebrows bunched together. “I had asked Wilson specifically to find out how they were. He was to bring them to my parents' home. Since last we knew, Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet were being held at Mr. Jolly’s inn, it was an easy thing for Wilson to inquire of the innkeeper himself. Mr. Jolly is a friend. He told Wilson they were being held as prisoners in the same room from which you had helped Darcy escape and that they would depart for London at sunrise. He also complimented the blacksmith for his care of Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet, ensuring they had water, blankets, and good food.”
While it pleased Elizabeth to hear how her complaints at the forge had improved the conditions for Mr. Bingley and Jane, it did not please her at all to learn that Jane would have already spent a night at Newgate Prison.
Elizabeth pushed her plate away. She could eat no more.
William asked, “Did you see Georgiana?”
The colonel nodded his head slowly, his mouth bunched up. Taking another sip of wine, he said, “She is taking this very hard, Darcy. She believes she is at fault. She fears you will be killed before she can make amends with you.”
William stood from his chair so fast, he had to reach behind him to steady it. Shoving his hands through his hair, he paced. “Make amends? She speaks as if we had a falling out.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam swallowed the bite he chewed. “Did you not?” he asked.
William raised his hands heavenward, a picture of intense brotherly frustration. “How could we have a falling out when she hardly spoke a word after Ramsgate?”
Jane did that. When she thought she had displeased someone, Jane went silent. It depended on others to draw her out. All too often, the problem was nothing Elizabeth had expected. She wondered if Miss Darcy was similar that way. Elizabeth had sensed Miss Darcy’s shyness during their brief meeting.
How would Jane fare at Newgate Prison?
Elizabeth’s eyes burned, and she fiddled with her collar when she realized yet again that her pearl was gone. What she would give to free Jane from that wretched place!
Turning to Elizabeth, the colonel said, “You made quite an impression on Georgiana. When this horrible business is done, she will be happy to gain you as a sister.”
“She will gain five sisters,” Elizabeth said. And how she missed each one of them!
William continued pacing, his agitation growing with every turn about the room.
The colonel growled at him, “Sit down, Darcy. You will accomplish nothing by wearing a hole in Mrs. Fuller’s carpet.”
William grumbled, but he sat. “You are right. I cannot amend anything with Georgiana until we find Wickham.”
“And get him to admit he arranged for you to be blamed for the murder of the marquess,” the colonel added.
That was another obstacle Elizabeth had been pondering. It would not be enough to find Wickham. William had been right to keep her from entering the tavern. The coward would have reveled in the opportunity to turn them in for the large reward for William’s capture.
They could accuse Wickham to his face, and he would never admit to his crime when he stood to gain everything he wanted — revenge and a fortune.
“We saw him, Rich. He was at a tavern called The Black Boar.” William clenched his fists. Did he imagine Wickham’s neck between his hands?
How close they had been!
The colonel downed the rest of his wine, slamming his glass down on the table. “As much as I would love to march back to that tavern and haul the vile viper away by the lapels of his coat, you must have a better plan than that. Wickham is not a fool. In fact, he has proved quite clever, and he is too close to gaining everything he has ever wanted to make a misstep now. Would I had run him through with my sword at Ramsgate!”
“Regret will get us nowhere. Have you been able to find Bingley’s housekeeper?” William asked.
Elizabeth sat forward. In her determination to get her sister out of prison, she had forgotten about Mrs. Holton. If they found her, they might convince her to speak against Wickham.
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I have not, but my father is also helping.”
Elizabeth asked, “What about the footman?”
“He also seems to have disappeared. With the cowardice he showed during the robbery, I do not suspect he will be quick to come forward,” answered the colonel.
Drat.
Elizabeth knew there were more questions to ask and more information to exchange, but her thoughts were full of Jane. The image of her sweet, innocent sister spending the night in a dark, dirty prison with criminals awaiting their trial made Elizabeth’s heart sick.
She asked the colonel, “Were you able to see them? Mr. Bingley and my sister?”
“I was not allowed to see the prisoners, but the blacksmith, him being the constable, accompanied them to Newgate from the village. He told me that Mr. Bingley is very ill. He had nothing but kind things to say about Miss Bennet. She refused to leave Mr. Bingley’s side. The guards at the prison allowed her to remain with him as his nurse, confident he will not last long.”
Mr. Bingley die? No! Losing him would crush Jane.
William pounded his fist against the table again. “We will not let Bingley die. We will turn this around, and we will get him the medical attention he needs. I refuse to allow Wickham to have the final word when his animosity against me has affected my friends. He must not be allowed to continue to use society to his advantage.”
“Society ought to be ashamed,” Elizabeth spat with all the venom she could muster. “You do not give a good impression at first meeting, but even when I thought the worst of you, I never wished to see you dead. And I have since learned how wrong I was about your character. When I went to Matlock House this morning, the cook told me how she and all the other servants in the house know you could never have done what you are accused of doing. She wished for me to assure you of their support. She said there was not one servant in the household who would not be willing to testify in your favor at your trial.”
William shook his head. “I would never ask that of them.”
“I know it. But is it not nice to hear you have such loyal friends?”
Before he could answer, Mrs. Fuller returned to the room.
“Miss Elizabeth, you are welcome to stay here with me while the men see to this problem,” she said.
Elizabeth immediately replied, “I thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Fuller — especially because in keeping me with you, you would be assisting someone the Crown considers a traitor. But I cannot put you or your family in that position. We are so close to helping my sister. I cannot let her down. Nor could I, in good conscience, abandon Mr. Darcy right now.”
Mrs. Fuller nodded in understanding. Clasping her hands together, she said, “All the same, if you need a place to stay, I hope you return here.”
With a parting smile, she left the room again.
Colonel Fitzwilliam scooted his chair back from the table. “I should leave. It is only a matter of time before we are found out. We must act quickly. I will ask two of my men to watch Wickham and make sure he does not escape from us. Father and I will intensify our search for the housekeeper and the footman in hopes they will help us devise a plan against Wickham. It would be so much easier if we could ask your housekeeper where Mrs. Holton is directly, but Darcy House is under heavy guard. Nobody goes in, and nobody goes out. Not even the servants. I sent a message, and it was seized.”
William’s eyes flickered over to Elizabeth, and in a glance, she knew he was scheming a plan. He would not sit idly while his uncle and his cousin chased after the bad guys.
The colonel stood and bowed to depart. “Try to sleep. I have a notion tomorrow will be a big day.”
When his cousin had gone, William said, “If all goes well, Richard does not know the half of it.”
Chapter 30
Richard left the door to the dining room wide open, a nod to decorum which Darcy appreci
ated. There were some things he wished to discuss with Elizabeth, and Darcy did not need the distraction of being alone in a room with her to muddle his mind.
Elizabeth’s comment about the servants at Matlock House had given Darcy an idea. It was a wonder he had not thought of it before; it seemed so obvious now.
But there was another matter eating at his core. Georgiana. Darcy had hoped his time away from Pemberley would have smoothed over whatever had caused the rift between them, but it appeared to have widened the breach.
Whatever Georgiana felt was beyond Darcy’s comprehension, but he trusted Elizabeth enough to ask for her help to understand. The relationship she had with her sisters was what he desired to have with Georgie. If Elizabeth could help him, Darcy would accept it with the deepest appreciation.
She looked at him expectantly. She knew he wished to speak with her, and Elizabeth’s insight comforted Darcy. He did not trust his ability to explain his relationship with Georgiana. He did not completely understand it himself.
Elizabeth proved her ability to discern his thoughts when she asked, “Why did you leave your sister at Pemberley?”
Bitterness filled Darcy, but he had been avoiding the question long enough. He had wrestled with it for over two months and was no closer to being at peace with what had happened than he had been the day he had been forced to leave.
Darcy’s muscles bunched up in his shoulders and his back, and his head began to pound. In one deep exhale, he let out all of his tension and spoke the one fact he knew to be true. “I failed my sister.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“And yet it is true. Wickham changed her, and it is my fault. I should have seen it somehow. I am not the guardian she needs.”
Elizabeth argued, “What more do you expect of yourself as a guardian? Anyone who hears you speak of your sister knows you love her dearly.”
Darcy rubbed his chest. His bruises would heal, but he had carried the ache in his heart for far too long — long enough to doubt it could heal. He said, “I do love her dearly. Georgie and I have always been close. After the death of our father, we became inseparable. She was so young, and she needed a friend besides a brother and a father. But she changed after I refused to give Wickham the living he had sold. I should have noticed sooner.” Darcy’s inability to see how Wickham had slowly gained power over his little sister was his greatest regret.
