For his health. That Geoffrey was alive was a relief beyond measure, but how long he would likely remain so was beyond Darcy’s grasp. “I will peruse your literature,” he growled. “For my son’s health, as you say. You will be here in the morning, eight o’clock sharp, and despite my instincts, you will not be harmed.”
Mr. Hatcher nodded and doffed his hat, which he had never removed.
“If I do not have my son back, you are a dead man, Mr. Hatcher. In fact, even if you get everything you want, you will not escape the noose.”
His opponent scoffed. “I have heard similar threats many times, but here I stand. It will take a stronger person than you to kill me, Mr. Darcy.” He bowed. “Now, operating on the pretense of being a gentleman, I will take my leave. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Darcy had to grab Brian’s kimono to stop him from following. “Let him go.”
“I could get the information out of him, Darcy.”
“We can’t risk it,” he said. “He wouldn’t have come here if he thought he was in any danger, and he was right. That said,” he added in a voice that was the sort that made no one dare to challenge the veracity of the words, “by the end of this, I guarantee you he will be dead.”
Chapter 12 – Polite Society
“Why can’t I go in?”
“You just can’t,” George replied, as he stood guarding the study door. He knew that Georgiana Bingley would not take well to ‘the adults are talking.’ Plus she would probably make some comment about how that excluded him.
Georgie held up the plate in her hands. “You don’t think Gawain deserves something?” On it was the best cut of meat Pemberley had to offer.
“Then let me take it in.”
“Oh, so you – ”
“Georgiana, I cannot deal with this now.”
“You cannot deal with this?” she said. “Mama and Aunt Darcy are in the next room crying to death and you’re the martyr? The only one hurt here is that dog. Now let me pass.”
He had been told to keep people out, but he sighed, knowing she would just continue to talk at him until he relented. “Just be quiet about it.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes and entered without knocking. George followed her into the study and watched her go directly to Gawain’s mat, where the injured hound whined at her as she put the meat within easy reach of his snout. “Good dog. Very good dog,” she whispered, scratching behind his ears.
The men were too absorbed in their work to take much notice of the entrance. Darcy, Bingley, and Darcy’s steward, Mr. Hammond, were pouring over Hatcher’s list of demands.
“He has to have a price,” Darcy said, his eyes wild as they looked over the words again and again, no longer even reading them. “He has to. He can’t honestly be willing to die for the people of Derbyshire.”
“Between the family, we have – how much do we have now?”
“In cash? A hundred thousand by morning, if the bank will cooperate,” Mr. Hammond said. “The next day at the latest.”
“And that’s absolutely everything we can liquidate?”
“Legally, yes.”
“Uncle Darcy – ”
The three of them looked up at George, who had approached nervously as Georgiana sat beside the dog behind him. “I just wanted you to know – my funds are in London, but – ”
“I only wish I could say yes to that, and that it is only about money,” Darcy said, “but according to the eminent Mr. Hatcher, it isn’t. It’s about social justice, to the point of massive charity on my behalf beyond what even I am capable of.” He added, “At least not without Geoffrey’s signature.”
“Darcy, you can’t seriously think– ” Bingley started to speak, but was interrupted.
“I damn well can seriously think of it,” Darcy said, “even though the legal motions would take months to break the entail even with the two of us present, and by then, Hatcher would be strung up. He must know that.” He shook his head. “It has to be money.”
“Or he fails to understands the laws of entail,” Mr. Hammond said. “I can have the documentation ready by morning, Mr. Darcy, but it will be brief at best.”
“His challenge that Pemberley isn’t under entail won’t hold up in any court, documents or no,” Darcy said. “Or I could sign a bunch of useless forfeitures of land that won’t hold.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But, in answer to your question, thank you for the generous offer, but we will not be requiring cash from your accounts, George. And since this is not a public meeting ... I must ask you to remove Miss Bingley from the room.”
Fortunately, Georgie knew better than to challenge her uncle, especially when he was in such distress. She curtseyed politely to him, and then ventured to speak. “I was just attending to Gawain. But – may I ask something?”
“I may not answer it, but you may ask.”
“May I keep the ring? For Geoffrey?”
Darcy looked mystified by the request.
“He would want it,” George said, deciding to support her to pacify her.
Their uncle didn’t seem to have it in him to put up an argument to the request, and gestured with compliance. Georgie swooped in, snatched the ring, and left, dragging George out with her.
“Just promise me you won’t do that again.”
“I promise.” She hugged him. “Thank you.”
“Why did you – ”
But she was already gone, and he was left to ponder her current scheme.
******************************************
“Lizzy,” Darcy whispered, “come to bed.”
Elizabeth woke from her doze on the couch of the sitting room. Her sisters, both those by blood and by marriage, had been there to comfort her – Jane, Caroline, and Nadezhda – but she watched them grieve with her, and it was not the same. “I cannot sleep,” she said, and in response to his expression, added, “warm and safe in my bed while our son is beyond reach.”
“I’ve been informed by my doctor that I must try to get some rest before tomorrow to be at full wit,” he said, “and I am afraid to even attempt such a ludicrous proposition without you.”
She managed a smile. It was very late, and the others had retired to their guest rooms – no one left Pemberley that night. That they would all stay was an unspoken agreement. She accepted his hand. “You’re warm.”
“I had something to calm my nerves.” He added, “Doctor’s recommendation.”
“Dr. Maddox has some very convenient recommendations.”
“I am glad he is here. A great stroke of fortune.” Together, they walked upstairs, and the servants all bowed more respectfully than usual, mindful of the terrible situation, as the master and mistress of Pemberley retired to her bedroom. “There is light even in the darkness.”
“You sound like Grégoire.”
“It is a direct quotation, I confess. I am not that original.” Darcy dismissed his man and removed his own clothes, crawling into bed and wrapping his arms around her. “It cannot come to anything. He just wants money.”
“You were not so sure earlier.”
“It is all I can offer him. Beyond my own life, but that means nothing to him. He would have to kill us all, like some kind of French Revolution done over again, here in civilized England. He’s not that mad.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, feeling his heartbeat against her back, his calloused fingers entwined with her own. “If it came down to that – ”
“I would give my life for him, yes,” he said. “Would you blame me for it?”
“Blame you? I blame myself for contemplating the idea and siding with my son over my husband.”
“I am just an old, scarred man on the brink of madness. He is – perfect.” He kissed her shoulder. “He will be a wonderful master of Pemberley, husband, and father. Someday.”
“Hopefully the husband before the father.”
“Yes.”
She stroked the palm of his hand, the part that was numb with all the nerves se
vered, and the edges that were not. “I would not blame you. I would not be happy with the arrangement, but it would be the right thing. I wouldn’t curse you for it.” She looked over her shoulder. “But promise me you will not let it come to that.”
“I do not believe it shall.”
She turned back and nudged further into his arm. “Where do you think he is right now?”
“I wish I knew,” Darcy said. “They won’t hurt him – beyond whatever they might have done to capture him. Hatcher will lose everything if further ... harm comes to Geoffrey. He is being taken care of. The situation requires it. He is probably asleep and in his dreams has forgotten his situation for a time.”
Though neither of them could admit it, if that was true, he was the lucky one of the three of them.
******************************************
The rooster had long ago crowed, but the morning mist, thick over Pemberley, had not yet cleared. The fresh air woke Darcy up, the chill almost a pleasant distraction, if such a thing was possible, as he waited on the terrace, where a table was set up. Michael Hatcher would not have entrance to Pemberley again, where the rest of the family was safe. He would sit outside for his business, as the weather was holding.
And Mr. Hatcher did appear, on time, emerging from the mist like a phantom. This time he must not have been so cocksure because he was visibly armed with a pistol in his belt. Darcy himself was not armed this morning, though Bingley was, and Darcy’s master huntsman. Brian Maddox sat in his own chair, leaning his arms on his long sword, the other in his belt. With them was Mr. Hammond, with multiple cases of documents. No refreshments were offered.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Hatcher said, doffing his hat again. He did not look entirely the same – he was dirtier, and looked tired, although not completely exhausted. He still had that amazingly arrogant strut and self-assured tone. He wasn’t introduced to the others. “I see you are prepared.”
“I wish this business to be concluded,” Darcy said, as unemotionally as he could manage. “I imagine you feel the same way.” He gestured to the seat across from him at the little round table, and Hatcher took it. He seemed relieved to be sitting; maybe he had walked a long way. “The offer is one hundred thousand pounds, in cash. Now.” He did not have to open the briefcase, or even point it out.
“I assume you are a wiser man than that, Mr. Darcy, and have at least read my materials. How you came to your conclusions, I will not bother to speculate. I am not here for my own gain. I am here for the people.”
“Yes, of course, the people. None of whom ever appear at your side, or swear loyalty to you. In fact, everyone we can find decries you.”
“The people are smarter than you believe them to be, and will not tell you what you do not want to hear, Mr. Darcy.”
“Or perhaps they are more morally inclined than you believe them to be, Mr. Hatcher,” he said. “Either way, since none of them are here to speak for themselves, this is between us. My offer stands. I cannot comply with your terms. If you had any understanding of the legal system – ”
“The very legal system that protects your fortune - !”
“ – then you would know that to sign away said fortune, I would need two signatures. One being my own, and the other being my son’s, should I have one over the age of fifteen – which I do. But I see from your face that you have some understanding of the laws of entail.”
“I know that laws were made to be broken, and that unjust laws are not made to be followed.”
“I thought you would not listen to reason, legal or otherwise,” Darcy said, and nodded for Mr. Hammond, who produced a piece of paper that was blank but for two lines at the bottom, and passed it to Hatcher. “Have my son sign the second line and return to me post-haste.”
“It’s blank.”
“Your powers of observation amaze me, Mr. Hatcher. The terms are to be negotiated, and then I will sign. But his signature is key. Of course if he is not alive or in a condition to sign – ”
“He is,” Hatcher said, but he was visibly unnerved. He had not anticipated being surprised by the progress at this meeting.
“Good for you, then, because none of your noble goals of freeing the people from their tyrant noble, who is in reality not ‘noble’, and who provided them with food and coal all winter at his expense so they would not suffer beyond their means, will be reached without that signature. Or we could end this now, with the money, which I still believe must be your real goal.”
“So you insist,” Hatcher said, recovering his own indignation. He was given an attaché to protect the blank document. “Does he have a seal?”
“I have it and am authorized to use it. I only need him to sign.”
He tapped on the table impatiently. “I will be waiting, Mr. Hatcher.”
“You will catch cold, Mr. Darcy. I hardly intend to rush there and back and give you any indication of my hideout. I am not such a fool as that,” he said. “Your son is being kept in good care – you need have no fear. And don’t send your men into town – I know all of your spies and they will not catch my trail. You will wait, and I will return tonight.”
“And if I don’t wish to wait?”
“Well,” Hatcher grinned, “that isn’t your choice, now is it?” He made a fancy bow. “Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy just growled under his breath as Hatcher walked away, attaché in hand.
“Do you want me to – ” Bingley said, but stopped as Darcy put his head in his hands and made no motion to speak. Bingley instead put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “They’re taking care of him.”
“He’s hurt and he can’t sign,” Darcy said. “I am calling his bluff – but I don’t want it to be true. I want my son back.”
Bingley looked at Brian, who just nodded at Darcy’s assertions. Hatcher had been reluctant to take the document. “Maybe he just thinks Geoffrey won’t agree to it. He won’t agree to give up Pemberley – not even for his own life, God forbid.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Brian said, more to comfort Darcy than respond to Bingley. “I’ll go to town.”
“He said – ”
“I am not Darcy’s servant or his spy. I am his eccentric relation by marriage, and if anyone has a problem with that, they will take it up with me.” He put his sword back in his belt. “And I will be quite willing to take it up with them. Hatcher cannot hide forever, Darcy.”
Darcy nodded softly, but did not seem to agree, as if all his energy, having been so carefully preserved for the course of the conversation, was now gone for him. Mr. Hammond and Brian both excused themselves, and left with the huntsman. It was only when they were gone that Darcy began to sob. Bingley took Hammond’s seat and sat beside him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he watched his dear friend and brother finally weep.
******************************************
Before Brian went to Lambton, he went to his chambers, where his wife was waiting with her traveling clothes ready. “How do you always know what I’m going to do?” he asked in Romanian.
“Because I’m your wife,” she said, handing him his ronin gasa hat.
They collected the reward notes – for any information surrounding Geoffrey Darcy’s disappearance, or Hatcher’s whereabouts, 500 pounds – put on their traveling sandals, and headed out. It was five miles to town, and the roads were extremely quiet, as if everyone was in hiding.
“Geoffrey’s hurt,” he said. “Hatcher knows he can’t keep this going forever. Even from a minor wound, Geoffrey could die, if it gets infected.”
“He said that?”
“He revealed it unintentionally. He’s not as smart as he thinks.” Brian looked up. “What he’s up to, I have no idea. I suspect he thought the people would rise with him, and they didn’t.”
“Or they haven’t heard of it yet.”
“He must have been building this for a while – quietly. Maybe it was supposed to go differently. If Geoffrey hadn’t been there to deliver the coal, they might never have
crossed paths. And Gawain was with him, of course – ”
“ – and then if they attacked Gawain, Geoffrey would have tried something. And the only response – ”
“ – was to defend himself. Or themselves. Hatcher wouldn’t do it alone. He’s not that kind of man.” He paused, his hand casually resting on his blades, at the sound of a wolf howling in the distance. “There’ve been an awful lot of wolves about. How did they survive the winter?”
“They’re the fiercest of creatures. Who knows?”
“Fiercest, huh? What about bears?”
“Bears are big and tough, but they don’t plot, like wolves do,” she said. Having grown up in rural Transylvania, where one of her only permitted activities was to hunt, she would know. She returned to their original topic of conversation. “But Hatcher, he would only play a high card if he had to.”
“Right.”
“So the kidnapping of Geoffrey – it may have been a spontaneous decision.”
“And with such a violent crime, he faces exportation at least. So the stakes were high to begin with, especially if Geoffrey is injured.” He glanced at his wife. “Possibly dying.”
“We can only speculate.”
“True.”
“So, he makes outrageous demands, hoping all of his speeches will come to something and the people will act as some dreamy French peasantry and sack Pemberley,” she said. “He is a romantic. And not native to Derbyshire. He appeared around the time of the mining disaster, and saw the discontent from that, but that was none of Darcy’s business. The people love the Darcys of Pemberley. Even his servants readily praise him as a good landlord and master.”
“So if he was to target anyone, it should have been the Duke of Devonshire, who doesn’t even live in Derbyshire, and I doubt has visited in years. Hatcher miscalculated, and he’s in a corner. So why didn’t he take the money?”
The Knights of Derbyshire Page 13