Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  Crack! Hayden jerked toward the sound only to encounter a forearm to his throat and strong arms dragging him from the chair. Hayden’s eyes bulged as he kicked and struggled, his hands reaching behind him to claw at his attacker, but the brute had gained the advantage and was too strong to shake off.

  “Grab his legs and tie them!” someone shouted. Hayden had pushed backed and rammed the brute against the side wall; however, now with the window wall no longer before him, Hayden lost his leverage. His feet, now practicing a desperate shuffle against the floor, were easily grasped and quickly tied. His hands were tied next, and the brute behind him removed his arm from around his throat. Hayden dropped to the floor and coughed and sputtered, his eyes watering. Through blurry vision, Hayden noticed four sets of legs. One set of legs leaned down and pushed a flask to his lips. Hayden gulped, as the water rushed down his throat and slid down his chin. His coughing subsided, the brute who had grabbed him, spoke.

  “Stand him up.”

  The two men who had tied him pulled him to his feet. And then, and then…sapphire eyes rimmed in black, gazed at sapphire eyes, angular nose mirrored angular nose, wavy black hair met wavy light brown hair, broad shoulders and slender waist, matched broad shoulder and slender waist. Eye to eye, the brothers assessed one another, both men breathing deeply, but from more than just the physical struggle. Darcy watched as Hayden’s eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed into hatred.

  “Hello, little Brother! Miss me?” Hayden snarled, his upper lip lifting between a smile and grimace.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “The mistress will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” Francesca smoothed her dress and blew out a long, slow breath as she walked to Lady Matlock’s study.

  “Enter,” Lady Matlock’s cultured voice answered, and Francesca stepped into the room with halting steps.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Waters. I trust you and Alexander are well?”

  “Good morning, your ladyship,” Francesca curtsied. “Yes, ma’am. Very well. I thank you.”

  “Be seated, Mrs. Waters, and tell me what has brought you here?”

  Francesca sat and cleared her throat. “I have another letter I request you send. You may read it of course,” Francesca spoke rapidly and handed the letter to Lady Matlock. Francesca fidgeted with the lace on her gown as Lady Matlock read the letter, frowning. Cold eyes raised to meet hers, and Francesca blinked and fought to hold Lady Matlock’s gaze.

  “Very well,” Lady Matlock said, “I will send it express.”

  Francesca released her breath. “Thank you, your Ladyship. You are generous.”

  Lady Matlock nodded as Francesca exited. In the corridor, Francesca leaned against the wall and exhaled. Feeling much lighter now, she walked rapidly down the hall. It was a beautiful day, and she would have to make her way in the world, but today, she would spend time with Alexander in the garden.

  Hayden watched as a slightly shorter but broader man stepped from behind Darcy. “Search him,” the man said. The two men who had tied his feet did so and confiscated his pistol, sword, dagger, and rope. “Now, get him into the cart.”

  “Well, well, well, my comrades from The Star and Crown, Smith and King, ‘eh?” Hayden chuckled and shook his head. Hayden struggled vainly as Smith and King grabbed his arms and half lifted and half dragged him to the door where a cart driven by a third man waited.

  Hayden turned his head to looked back at Darcy. “Did not know you desired my company so badly, Brother. I would have come sooner if you had asked.” The men heaved Hayden onto the back of the cart, and all three settled in as Darcy and Richard retrieved their mounts from the rear of the cottage.

  As the cart lurched and rocked into motion, Hayden looked at his two captors. “So, you set me up, ‘eh?” Neither Smith nor King answered. “Look, we are alike you and me. I am just a bloke like you. What do you say you untie me, and help me slip away from these dandies? Whatever they are paying you, I will double,” he said, looking from one to the other. Smith and King looked straight ahead.

  “Come now, you cannot have any loyalty to them, can you? They would sooner spit on you than help the likes of you. Men like that have no honor. They brought four to a fight with one. How cowardly is that?” Hayden asked, conveniently forgetting that he had planned to ambush a man.

  Finally, Smith turned to Hayden. “That bloke there,” he nodded toward Richard, “is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of His Majesty’s Army. A decorated soldier who has saved both of our lives from the blade of Napoleon’s goons. So, aye, we are loyal.”

  Hayden huffed and stared ahead at Darcy and Richard riding behind the cart. Hayden assessed Darcy. He had underestimated his opponent. Darcy was masculine and strong, not the body of extravagant living. He had recognized him instantly, and the resemblance mocked him and made him angrier than ever. No doubt about it, they were brothers, alike and related, both George Darcy’s sons; yet, different and unrelated. One concealed, one revealed. One rejected, one accepted. One censured, one acclaimed. With each rock of the cart, Hayden’s mood darkened. Here he lay bound hand and foot in an old and smelly cart while the master of Pemberley rode high and erect upon a magnificent beast. Hayden clenched his jaw and sat upright; his face now twisted into a grimace.

  Darcy watched Hayden. He had not known what to expect when he faced his brother for the first time, but what he had not expected, was the amount of hatred he had witnessed in Hayden’s eyes. Of course, it requires hate to kill another, but to see it up close, and from eyes that otherwise mirrored one’s own, was disconcerting. He exhaled. He had fought Richard for the right to subdue his brother. Richard had volunteered or offered Smith or King, but not knowing how Hayden would respond, Darcy could not put another at risk. He knew that success in capturing Hayden would further fuel his brother’s hatred, but it could not be helped. Now, Darcy simply hoped that his uncle’s plan would succeed.

  “Mr. Lancaster, ma’am.”

  Jane, Elizabeth, and Georgiana all rose. Jane looked at Elizabeth and smiled. Georgiana looked at Elizabeth and pouted. Elizabeth looked at them both and rolled her eyes. Just then, Lance entered and bowed to their curtsies.

  “Mr. Lancaster, welcome. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bingley. It is a pleasure to see you again, as well. Miss Bennet, Miss Darcy,” Lance smiled.

  “Please be seated.” Georgiana, who had been seated next to Jane sharing needlepoint tips, failed to move quickly enough, and Lance sat beside Elizabeth. Georgiana huffed and resumed her seat next to Jane.

  Tea served, the conversation moved to pleasant drawing room chatter until Lance turned to Elizabeth and spoke softly. “Miss Bennet, how have you enjoyed your visit?”

  “Very well. London is very diverting, although I do miss my ramblings through the open fields of Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth smiled.

  “Yes, if I recall Miss Bingley called it ‘scampering about the countryside,’” Lance said, and Elizabeth laughed.

  “Mr. Lancaster,” Lance looked up at Georgiana’s address, “Elizabeth has told me that you have a sister?”

  “Yes, Miss Darcy. She is a delightful pianist and loves to draw. I believe you and she have much in common.”

  “I would be delighted to meet her,” Georgiana said.

  “I am sure she would be delighted to make your acquaintance as well.”

  “Georgiana,” Jane called, “do tell me how your lesson with your art master proceeded today.” Georgiana smoothed the brow, that had creased in irritation at Jane’s interruption, and answered.

  Lance turned back to Elizabeth, “As I recall at the ball, I offered to be the knight that rescued you from your sibling sentries so that you could ‘scamper’ about London, did I not?”

  Elizabeth laughed, “Yes, you did.”

  “Mr. Lancaster,” Lance looked up politely at Georgiana’s call, “Tell me of your estate and your home county,” Lance smiled and s
poke of the estate’s park, gardens, and views.

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “Thank you, Miss Darcy. If you and your brother are ever near, we would be honored if you visited.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lancaster.”

  Lance nodded and turned back to Elizabeth. As Georgiana readied herself to ask another question, Jane lightly touched her arm, “Georgiana, what of the new stitch you demonstrated to me. I would love to learn it.”

  “Miss Bennet, will you allow me to be gallant and honor my knightly duties? It is a fine day; would you accompany me on a walk?”

  “A walk! That would be lovely,” Georgiana exclaimed and began to rise; Jane’s hand stayed her.

  “Mr. Lancaster, where do you intend to walk?”

  “Only to the park I spotted not far from here.”

  “Yes, that is just perfect. Georgiana, dearest, please remain here. I do so want you to help me master that stitch,” Jane smiled, and Georgiana’s shoulders drooped as leaned back upon the couch.

  “Very well, Miss Bennet, it appears to be just us two.”

  The cart stopped in front of a vacant tenant’s cottage. Hayden’s two captors jumped down and hauled him, none too gently to the ground. Hayden’s blood boiled from the humiliation. Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of Darcy, and the man he now knew as Darcy’s cousin, the earl’s son, also preparing to enter.

  “I would have thought your boots too fine for such desecrated ground as the place where farmers live, Brother!” Hayden laughed a mirthless sound. “Or perhaps you just wanted us to catch up, ‘eh?” Hayden managed a shrug though in the grip of his captors. “It would have been lovelier over a pint, but how ‘bout we give it a go? How have you been, Brother? How has life treated you? Receive anything that belonged to someone else, say like an inheritance?”

  Darcy and Richard walked stone faced as Hayden taunted. Upon entering the cottage, Hayden noticed the two large and armed footmen flanking the Earl of Matlock and standing tall and distinguished beside him was another gentleman he presumed was the Earl’s eldest son given the age and resemblance. His stomach clenched despite himself. The room where the intimidating quartet stood was large with an enormous fireplace and five chairs arranged in a semi-circle around it. Hayden was unceremoniously dumped into one of them. With a nod from the earl, the armed footmen withdrew to a room in the rear of the cottage, while the former soldiers waited outside.

  Hayden smirked, “Uncle! And I presume another cousin!” Hayden greeted Matlock and Hardston. “Oh, my apologies, you are not my uncle and cousin, are you? No, I am not descended from earls but whores, right? That is why I was hidden away, rejected, neglected, and tossed aside by my father for the earl’s daughter. As if one woman was less of a ….”

  “Shut your filthy mouth!” Darcy was before him in a flash with rage shining from his eyes. “I have not disrespected your mother, and I will be damned if I allow you to disrespect mine,” Darcy’s face twisted in anger.

  Hayden blanched and then chuckled, “The Master of Pemberley at last.”

  Matlock tapped Darcy’s shoulder, “Come, Son. Allow me to handle this.”

  Alfred Fitzwilliam, the fifth Earl of Matlock, stood before Hayden with legs spread, his arms crossed over his chest. His over six-foot-tall frame still lean and firm, defying his fifty and six years. “Are you comfortable?” Hayden cut his eyes to him and then rolled them. “I would untie your hands and feet if you will behave. Will you?” Hayden looked at him and nodded sharply. “Very well, but remember,” Matlock leaned forward, “I have four armed and trained men outside this room. And besides my youngest son here, who is a decorated military commander, I also have my eldest and my nephew, all of them deadly with pistol and sword,” Matlock paused. “Do not give us cause to use them.” Hayden met his eyes and understanding flowed. Matlock nodded, and Richard cut the ropes.

  Hayden rubbed his wrists and arms and looked at all of them standing before him, “What do you want?” He barked at Matlock.

  “The better question is, ‘What do you want?’ You have been captured on my property with what?” Matlock looked up, and Richard answered, “a pistol, a sword, a dagger, and rope.”

  “Ah, a pistol, a sword, a dagger, and rope, with that weaponry, I do not suspect you came to poach, albeit also a punishable offense. No, I have it on good authority that your intent was far more nefarious.”

  “Ah, Cousin Francesca. I wondered if she were here. She always had a predilection for my brother here, but sadly, you could not get the job done, could you?” He eyed Darcy up and down with his head slightly tilted. “It is amazing though how much Alexander resembles you, more like you than me, ‘eh?” Hayden chuckled that mirthless sound that traveled Darcy’s spine. “We did not expect that when we planned this, that little bit seemed a miracle. But ‘eh, not so unusual really when you consider how closely related we are, is it Darcy?”

  Matlock saw Darcy stiffen, though he hid his anger well, he could tell that Darcy was near his limit with the taunting. “Hayden! I know of your intentions, and I do not tolerate threats against my family! You are only here, rather than in the gaol, because of my respect for George Darcy. If you do not cease this taunting and listen, I will ensure that you pay dearly for your intentions against my nephew.”

  “What can you do to me that has not already been done!” Hayden yelled as he lurched to his feet. All three gentlemen moved to protect Matlock, who raised his hand to stay them as Hayden had taken no step toward him. “I have been discarded, forgotten, my mother used like a harlot, and her bastard rejected, though I am as much George Darcy’s son as he is!”

  He jerked his head toward Darcy. “You!” he spat the word, “how does it feel to have what belongs to me? How does it feel to realize you are not the firstborn; I am. You stole everything! My father, he loved me before you came! My inheritance, I should be the master of Pemberley! And my son would have been as he should be if you had not thwarted that, too!” Hayden snarled, his chest rising and falling while a vein throbbed in his neck. He clenched his fist, “I should have thrown that rock harder!” Darcy stood wide-legged and crossed arm, holding Hayden’s glare. Nearly identical blue eyes peered into the other’s, both unyielding, soul measuring soul, bound together by anger, pain – and blood. Suddenly, Hayden yelled and lurched toward him. Darcy sidestepped, sending the out of control Hayden sprawling on the floor. Darcy, Hardston, and Richard leapt to the ground, grabbed Hayden, and hauled him up.

  “Let go of me! I will kill you!” Hayden shouted, his voice piercing their ears as he kicked chairs that fell with a crash. “Take your hands off me! I will kill you!” The three wrestled him down, and Matlock opened the door and beckoned Smith to come in and tie Hayden to the chair. Hayden continued to struggle, his chest heaving until the ropes firmly held him in place. He jerked a few more times, but the ropes held tight. Having discharged a portion of his rage, he was emotionally and physically drained, his shoulder’s drooped, and he lowered his head. The gentlemen looked at one another at this evidence of his quickly changing moods.

  “Hayden,” Darcy called his name for the first time. Hayden, with his head still lowered, slowly raised his eyes to Darcy, and brother stared at brother. “I am not responsible for Father’s actions,” Darcy spoke coolly.

  Hayden raised his head, “Neither am I. But you must admit, that though both of us are innocent, it worked out pretty well for you and not so much me for, ‘eh?” Hayden answered flatly and lowered his head again. Darcy sighed and turned away.

  Matlock pulled a chair directly in front of Hayden and sat. “Hayden.” Hayden would not look up. “Look at me, what I have to say, you must hear.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lance and Elizabeth covered the same path as she had a few days before in her walk with Saye. Elizabeth had a sense of foreboding, but she smiled cheerfully as they discussed the latest books they had read. While not as gregarious as Saye, or as brilliant as Darcy, Lance was int
elligent and entertaining with a dry wit that caught one by surprise. Elizabeth laughed and smiled despite herself.

  They walked down a lovely path with cherry trees with their beautiful pink and white flowers and fragrant almond scent. The path led to a gentle stream – the same place where Saye had paused just a few days before. Elizabeth tensed as Lance slowed his pace.

  “Lovely path, is it not?” Elizabeth asked rapidly.

  “Indeed. Miss Bennet,” Lance spoke, “I leave soon for business in the North, and though we have not known one another long, I would be remiss if I did not pay my addresses.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were large and round by the time Lance led her slightly off the path and turned to face her.

  “Miss Bennet, I know that one as lovely as you will not be available for long. I require a wife. A woman with good sense and sparkling wit who would walk by my side and whose intelligence and beauty would grace my life. I know we do not know one another very well, but I think we are compatible. I could offer you a good home, respect, companionship, and I believe one day, love as well. Many have entered marriage with mutual respect that blossoms into love. I have searched the ton and have yet to find a woman with your excellent qualities and beauty.”