by Jennifer Joy
She tried, but the damage had already been done. Why would Miss Pringle make such a desperate, foolish offer unless she knew her father would not pay for her?
Ivan knew it, too. Wrapping his thick fingers around Miss Pringle's arm, he said, "I can only think of one solution for you, then. If your family will not pay, then let you serve as a message for the others."
Lydia grabbed onto Miss Pringle's other hand and pulled with all of her might. "Let go of her!"
Terror spread over Miss Pringle's countenance. She shrieked, "Do not let him take me! Lydia!"
Lydia pulled and fought, the ladies behind her of little help with their pitiful strength. All she saw was the whites of Miss Pringle's terrified eyes. Lydia did not see Ivan's hand until it struck her.
Dropping to the floor like a stone, her cheek throbbing, Lydia held her head between her hands before it shattered into a thousand pieces. Stars danced in her blurred vision, and the voices and scuffles she had been in the midst of now sounded distant.
She tried to get her feet under her, but the room tilted and whirled uncontrollably. By the time she could scramble to her hands and knees, the door had slammed shut behind Ivan and Miss Pringle.
Lydia reached out, her scream sounding like a sob.
Lady Eleanor sat beside her. "What you did today was incredibly brave."
For the first time since her capture, Lydia succumbed to tears. Her misery went far beyond what Lady Eleanor could know, and now that Lydia's identity had been revealed, she no longer held back. Between hiccups, sobs, and gasps for breath, she said, "I went to finishing school with Miss Pringle. I hated her. A thousand times I wished her gone … but not like this. Never like this." Wrapping her arms around her knees and hugging them tightly against her, Lydia wept in earnest.
Lady Eleanor patted her back. "You must not blame yourself when you were the only one to rise in her defense. Miss Pringle brought this on herself when she attempted to bargain with a criminal. She ought to have known she would come out the loser when it is money they seek. Miss Darcy will be proud to learn of what you have done. She is fortunate to have a friend like you, Miss Bennet."
"I just want her to be safe," Lydia said with all the honesty in her possession. Even after she realized the "her" she referred to included her sworn enemy.
Miss Pringle did not return. Not an hour later. Not the next morning.
Chapter 20
Michael paced his room, his every thought inevitably leading him back to Miss Darcy.
Focus. He needed to focus.
Why was it the case he cared about the most should also prove to be the most difficult? Why did he feel so blind?
He stopped, the root of his predicament plain now that he had given himself leave to contemplate it. He cared too much. He cared a great deal for Miss Darcy. If any trouble should befall her because of his inability to trace the kidnapper to his lair, Michael would forever hate himself.
With Miss Darcy — Georgiana, he whispered in his heart — he felt … alive … at ease … wanted. He belonged wherever she was.
But she treated everyone so kindly, Michael could not tell if she genuinely enjoyed his company or if she was merely being polite.
And, right now, because he had been unable to find and capture the man responsible for her friend's disappearance, Miss Darcy was a prisoner in her own house. She must be miserable, unable to do anything for fear of discovery. Her desire to help was clear, but she would no sooner endanger Miss Bennet than he would endanger Miss Darcy.
With Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tanner keeping watch, Miss Darcy must be safe. Her nieces and nephews would keep her occupied as would Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Tanner. Logic told Michael that Miss Darcy was well and busy, but his desire to see her overwhelmed his sound reasoning.
He checked the time. It was early. His informants would not report for another hour, and he had exhausted all other leads.
Surely, it would be a kindness to help Miss Darcy pass the time. Even if she held no tender affection for him — and why should she when he had nothing to offer? — he would not deny her a small token of his consideration. If it eased her ennui, it would be enough for Michael.
There was nothing else to it. He would stop at Darcy House before calling on his various informants.
Michael looked about him. He could not show up empty-handed. And it was ridiculous for him to think he had anything in his sparse lodging that would entertain a young lady.
What could he get? Music seemed too intimate. A book, however….
Donning his coat, swearing to himself once again he would find the time to visit the tailor (just not today), Michael made his way to Hatchards Bookshop.
The clerk wrapped the treasures in sleek, brown paper and handed the stack to Michael with an audible sigh.
He had indulged in a highly anticipated popular novel, recently published, along with two other tomes of his own selection. Hopefully, Miss Darcy would be more enthusiastic about his choices than the clerk had been.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tanner were putting on their gloves and coats in the entrance hall when Michael called.
On seeing him, Mr. Darcy said, "Mr. Nelson, have you any news?"
His expectation that Michael had news to share made him feel like the worst sort of failure. What was he doing making what was essentially nothing more than a social call when he ought to be scouring the underbelly of London for information? He should be at the waterfront, not at Darcy House.
"No," Michael replied, shuffling the books between his hands.
Mr. Darcy squeezed his shoulder. "Nor have we, Mr. Nelson. The timing of your call is fortuitous. Tanner and I must go to our banks to get the money ready, and neither of us feels good about leaving our family without a protector. Would you be so kind as to remain here until our return? Have you the time to spare?"
Michael wanted to stay, but he really did not have the time to spare. He must act responsibly rather than discuss books with the young lady who had captured his attention. He must put others' needs before his own.
Mr. Tanner's voice boomed through the hall. "Time or not, he is staying." Crossing his immense arms over his thick chest, he challenged Michael to say otherwise.
Michael was not often struck dumb, but by the time he could conjure a convincing argument contrary to Mr. Tanner's purpose, Mr. Darcy said, "There is no better room in the house to think than the music room. I have no doubt the ladies will take advantage of the opportunity to share their views and make their inquiries. It is amazing the insight into character they possess. It will be time well spent for you and an immense favor to us for you to stay."
How could Michael object to that? He followed the butler into the music room and the front door closed behind the brothers, leaving Michael no option but to remain in the house until their return.
Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Tanner, and Miss Darcy conversed over tea while Mrs. Wiggins napped soundly beside them.
Was it the bright sunlight coming through the windows or did Miss Darcy appear paler than normal that morning?
Michael stood before them with the books in his hands, the inappropriateness of his gesture making him uncertain. Extenuating circumstances aside, he had brought gifts for an unmarried lady — a lady so far above his sphere, he would never presume to court her. What a fool he was.
Had her eyes not lit up, Michael would have tried to hide the books behind his back. All three thick volumes. As a child, he had seen a magician make a rabbit disappear at the snap of his fingers. Now, that was a skill.
Mrs. Darcy motioned for him to sit with them. "How kind of you to call, Mr. Nelson. Do you have any news?"
The dreaded question.
She sent for more tea, and Michael kicked himself once again. What had he been thinking to come here when he ought to be doing anything other than making a social call?
He looked at Miss Darcy. There were dark circles around her eyes.
Sucking in a ragged breath and bracing himself to feel their disappointment, he said,
"I regret to inform you I do not. I am terribly sorry."
Mrs. Darcy tapped her fingers against her chin. "These are no ordinary criminals. Nobody has learned anything useful."
Mrs. Tanner added, "Only the wealthy and influential can buy this kind of silence."
"Or the truly terrifying," Mrs. Darcy added.
Not one word of judgment was uttered amongst their intelligent observations. They saw the lack of information available as another clue. And dash it all if they were not on to something! Mr. Darcy was right. The ladies' insight was valuable. Michael settled into his chair, determined to use his time well by listening and observing.
Miss Darcy, who had been pondering in silence, finally spoke. "Most terrifying men have prices on their heads. When a reward is offered for their capture, it is common for their most intimate friends to betray them. Could it be our foe is a man of wealth? Of influence? Perhaps a gentleman?"
Her gaze landed on Michael, and he got the sense she implied much more than she said. If she held more clues, why did she not speak plainly?
Mrs. Tanner clutched her hands together. "I think it possible. After what Lord Blackthorn put Jonathan through before we married, I would not hasten to deny the possibility of a gentleman's involvement."
Michael had read about Mr. Tanner in the papers. The public assaults Lord Blackthorn had leveled publicly against the innkeeper would have ruined a lesser man. In the end, justice and truth had prevailed. It usually did.
In a lighter tone, Mrs. Darcy said, "We cannot leave our sister alone, trapped within these walls, so both Mrs. Tanner and myself have agreed to share in Georgiana's imprisonment. I see you have been so thoughtful as to bring some entertainment, or am I wrong, Mr. Nelson?"
Michael placed the books he had tucked between his leg and the side of the chair on the table before them, grateful for the excuse Mrs. Darcy had given him to act kindly without overstepping the boundaries of propriety.
Before the first book could be unwrapped, Mrs. Tanner sat bolt upright in her chair. "Did you hear that?"
Michael sprang up from his chair, his pulse racing, his eyes wandering the room.
"Oh, I apologize for startling you, Mr. Nelson, but I could have sworn I heard Angus crying. It is the sound a mother is always attentive to," Mrs. Tanner continued. "I had better see to him now."
Michael heaved a sigh of relief. He had not heard any unusual sounds, but he would never question a mother's instincts regarding her children.
Mrs. Darcy set her teacup and saucer down. "I will go with you. We have been too long away from the nursery. Pray excuse us for a moment. Mrs. Wiggins will stay with you."
Mrs. Wiggins would not have noticed if a cannon had fired by her ear, so deep was her slumber.
Miss Darcy's cheeks turned pink. She looked like the spring roses his mother had fussed over in his youth.
Not knowing what else to do, Michael sat back down once the ladies had departed.
Miss Darcy handed him a freshly poured cup of tea. "Did my brothers send for you to stay with us while they are away?" she asked.
"Not exactly." Michael was loath to explain his reason for showing up at Darcy House.
She smiled, and his heart fluttered.
"Mr. Bennet does not make a convincing protector, and while Ben yields his catapult with confidence, he could not convince his father of the accuracy of his aim after he shattered his mama's favorite vase yesterday," she said.
Michael chuckled. Miss Darcy had a gentle way of putting him at ease; he could not help but surrender to her influence. "Actually, I came of my own volition to bring these." He pushed the books forward. Honesty, no matter how awkward, was always the best choice.
"You brought me books?" Miss Darcy's smile reached her eyes. Like the sun sparkling off the surface of crystalline water.
At his insistence, she pulled the paper off the first volume. With a gasp, she cradled the book to her, lovingly running her fingers over the engraved spine and rewarding the intention behind Michael's gesture in the loveliest manner.
"How did you get this? Every time I go to the bookshop, they have sold all of their copies!" Miss Darcy lowered her rosy cheek to the top of the book and breathed in its scent.
Michael swore he would buy her every new novel to enter the bookshop just to see her reaction. His heart light, he teased, "It was either that or a copy of Fordyce's sermons."
She laughed. "You selected well, then. I have been anxious to read Persuasion since I first heard of it."
Just as swiftly as the novel had evoked pleasure, her state changed to melancholy. Lowering the book to her lap, her face downcast, she said softly, "I apologize if I am not the best company, Mr. Nelson. I feel guilty laughing and enjoying anything at all when Lydia is not here to share in it. She so dearly loves to laugh."
"It is only natural to be concerned for your friend."
She twisted her fingers together. "There is another matter that has been bothering me. Only the three families have been affected? Have no others come forward?"
Her question intrigued Michael. "No. Why do you ask?"
Her eyes remained fixed on her hands as she spoke. "Darcy, Kendall, and Pringle. I have heard those names together before in association with three other names. I do not know the details, but I remember my brother's reaction when he learned of it. He was angry and hurt that his own father could betray the trust of others for his own selfish gain." She looked up, hiding behind her eyelashes.
Michael understood her timidity. Too often, the children were included in the sins of their fathers. She was ashamed.
As difficult as it must have been for Miss Darcy to share what she had with him, Michael would give her concern the attention it deserved. "What were the other three names?" he asked.
"Hamm, Ramsay, and Somerson."
He pondered. Six surnames. Six families. Michael had never heard their names together, but his thoughts immediately turned to Nathan. Could they have been the same families that led his father to ruin?
Michael shook his head. It was preposterous. Nathan was not in town, and while he carried some resentment, he was no more dangerous than a barking dog with no teeth. Some friend Michael was, doubting Nathan as he had, be it ever so briefly.
Miss Darcy continued, "It might be wise to call at their homes to see if all is well. I would go as they have daughters about my age, and I am known to their families…"
"Out of the question! You must stay here where it is safe," Michael interrupted before he realized how he must have sounded. He rubbed his temple. It pulsated and throbbed. "I apologize, Miss Darcy. I know you to have better sense than to put yourself into immediate danger. It was unjust of me to react as I did."
A look he could not read crossed her face, but she continued where she had left off before he had so rudely interrupted. "Since I am unable to go, will you go in my stead when my brothers return? Will you inquire? I do not want to say anything to William unless I am certain."
Michael felt his hackles rise. He wanted to refuse her immediately, but with his aversion rose his caution. Why did he resist her idea? It was a clue.
A clue that had immediately led him to Nathan.
"Do you remember anything else?" he asked, an inexplicable cold sweat breaking out over his forehead.
"I know so little. I only remember there was one family affected. They had a son who was away when William heard of it. I understood he had done well in trade and was in a position to make his own fortune … at the loss of his position."
Miss Darcy's voice was so sweet and innocent, she could not know how deeply her words cut Michael. He wanted to proclaim the impossibility of what she implied. Weighing his words, he said, "I think I know of the investment of which you speak … and the son. I know him well enough to be convinced he would never do something so evil."
"How can you be so convinced?" Miss Darcy pressed. "Men do abominable things when there is a fortune involved. Those six men, my father included, used your friend's family h
orribly. No one would blame him if he harbored resentment, but resentment left to fester becomes malignant and destructive."
Michael shook his head. "You do not understand him as I do. Nathan and I were inseparable. Our families' estates were only separated by a cart path. Our fathers were close friends. Nathan is like a brother to me. I could not mistake his character so completely. It is impossible." The words came out in a rush, Michael's conviction weakening the more he defended his friend.
Could it be?
No. He would not allow it.
"My intention is not to accuse a man I have never met, a man who is clearly a dear friend to you."
Why should her apology sting? "You need not explain, Miss Darcy. I realize it must have been as difficult for you to tell me what you did as it is for me to hear it."
"You are kind, Mr. Nelson." Hesitantly, she added, "Could it be you have each chosen to deal with life's obstacles in distinct ways? Your kindness and sense of justice leads you to improve everyone's path that crosses with yours. It is possible … or likely … another man might choose a less altruistic path. One that offers redemption. Revenge."
Michael could have defended Nathan better had Miss Darcy's tone been argumentative. But it was not. Not in the slightest. Her voice, laced with the melancholy of experience; her appeal for him to investigate the evidence, to offer proofs of guilt or innocence — as if he were not the barrister in the room — shamed him.
"I will say no more on the subject other than to beg of you, for the benefit of the kidnapped ladies who are innocent of their forefather's affairs, that you not discount it completely until it can be proved inconsequential." The strength of Miss Darcy's plea was not diminished by her soft tone.
He uncrossed his arms and lowered his chin. "Thank you for expressing your concern. I will do my best to prove it unfounded. You do not know Nathan Bradford as I do."
