by Rose Lorimer
My head spun as I recalled the last months’ events: Georgiana. My aunt’s machinations; hers and my cousin’s premature and horrible death. Bingley’s wedding. Meeting Elizabeth. Our experience at the mine and at that house. Our wedding. All this time, I had been so absorbed with my own life, so hidden inside my own pain that I forgot the world continued to turn and good and evil continued to clash.
I rubbed my head, quite ashamed of my selfish behaviour. “What can we do, gentlemen?” I asked, I new determination growing inside of me.
“We need to capture those smugglers in the act — bloody-handed as they used to say — otherwise, even if we press charges against them, they cannot be kept in prison without proof. Unfortunately for us, they can count on the best lawyers money can buy,” Mr O’Connell said. “But if I am not mistaken, Mr Pascoe has thought about that already, have you not, sir?”
“Indeed, I have. But for that I will need your help, Mr Darcy.”
“I will be glad to help.”
“I need you to return to Land’s End, to that house, with your wife. As Mr O’Connell said, I have been investigating these ‘ghosts’ for many years now. People here are terrified of them. They would never challenge their ‘supernatural’ power — which we now know is nothing more than fear and poison. And that is the reason I was so interested in your experience. You have been there, have seen what they do and how they do it, and survived, you and your wife. But after the break in at your house, I believe the smugglers see you as a threat and they will try to rectify their mistake at any cost. If we could prove this ghost business is nothing more than a farce, we could have more people willing to testify against them. If we could precede their next move with one of our own, we might have a chance to arrest them.”
Before I could open my mouth, Richard stood up, thundering, “Are you asking Darcy to expose himself and his wife as bait?”
“I understand your concern, Fitz,” Mr O’Connell said sympathetically. “But if Mr Darcy can create a distraction, our men can sneak into that cave and see what we can find. I have men, guns and munition waiting for my call in Truro. We just need to know when they plan to unload their next cargo—”
A commotion at the front door interrupted our conversation.
Bingley’s valet entered the room breathless, his eyes widened in panic. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Mr Darcy, Colonel. You need to come immediately. Mr Bingley is gone!”
Chapter 30
Darcy
When we arrived back at the house, Elizabeth was already at the entrance door running towards me.
“What is going on?” I asked, receiving her in my arms.
“Oh, William! I do not know what to think. We received a letter, supposedly from Charles, saying he was tired of all this business of curses and ghosts and that he was leaving Penzance for good. If Jane wanted to keep their marriage, she should leave immediately, go to London and meet him at their townhouse.”
I frowned, and looked at the three men behind me. Like me, they knew exactly what that meant.
“What are we to do—” She stopped, following my eyes over my shoulder. “I am sorry. I did not know you had company.”
“This is Mr Pascoe, the local magistrate, and that is Mr O’Connell. He is a detective from the Magistrate Courts in London, and came to Cornwall to investigate what is happening here. Gentlemen, my wife.”
Both men bowed. “Mrs Darcy.”
I kissed her frowning face. “They can help us to find Bingley. Could you call Jane? Perhaps we should start with what she knows.”
Elizabeth nodded and led the way to the drawing room. “I will not be long.” Some minutes later, she came back with her tearful sister, Miss Lucas just behind them. Introductions were performed. “Tea is coming,” Elizabeth said, sitting beside her sister.
Mr O’Connell cleared his throat. “Mrs Bingley, what can you tell us?”
Jane dabbed her eyes. “We came to Penzance about three months ago. Charles wanted to supervise the arrival of his two ships back to England. Since his father’s death two years ago, this was his first opportunity to act as the new owner. But something went wrong. One the ships was late, but there was no apparent reason for it. Yesterday, Charles received a letter. It was from one of his employees here in Penzance saying he had found something strange in the ship which had arrived and asked if Charles could meet him at the port first thing in the morning. He left this morning without breaking his fast, as soon as the sun rose.”
“Do you have your husband’s letter?”
“Yes,” she said, fetching it and handing it to Mr O’Connell.
“Do you recognise his handwriting?”
Jane hesitated. “I did not think of it, but Charles and I never exchanged letters. He was staying very close to my house before we married. Perhaps Mr Darcy could help,” she said, looking at me anxiously.
I nodded and took the letter. To my great surprise, the paper was free from the expected blots of ink, typical in Bingley’s letters. His handwriting was also different. “This letter is not from Bingley. I am quite sure of it.”
“Oh, no…” Mrs Bingley whispered between silent sobs.
There was a knock on the door. Mrs Nancarrow entered the room carrying the tea tray. “Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am. I brought yer—”
She froze, paling. Her widened eyes stopped on Mr O’Connell, and if it were not for Elizabeth’s quick reaction, the whole tray would have fallen.
“Mrs Nancarrow! What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked, putting the tray on the side table.
“Mrs Nancarrow?” Mr O’Connell asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows coming together. At the woman’s terrified stare, he continued, “It seems you have failed to introduce yourself by your right name, haven’t you, Madame Les Champs?”
Heads turned from one side to another, perplexed faces in search of any sense. The room remained silent for an eternity before Mr O’Connell spoke again. “Madame Les Champs, nay Miss Nancarrow, is a wanted criminal. Her crimes, together with her new husband, include theft, forgery, and, lately, an involvement in a murder—”
“I was never involv’d in murder!” she cried out.
“Do you want me to believe it is a coincidence you are a servant in a house where its master is missing? This time I will not be so lenient. You will face the hangman. Where is Pierre?”
The terror in her eyes surprised me. “You don’t understand! That’s why I’m here. They took ‘im. They forc’d me to do it—”
Mrs Bingley stood up. “D-Do what, Mrs Nan— Madame Les Champs?” she cried. And she would have said more had not the pale butler also entered the room.
Mr O’Connell scoffed. “Ah! Mr Nancarrow. Came to join the farce?”
“O’Connell, what is going on here?” Richard asked, voicing what everyone else in the room was wondering.
Mr O’Connell looked back at Madame Les Champs. “Would you care to enlighten them or should I?”
The woman looked at Mrs Bingley with moistened eyes. “I beg yer pardon, ma’am. Mr Nancarrow is my brother. But Mr O’Connell is not just wrong about my involvement in murder, he is misinform’d about my identity. I’m still Miss Nancarrow. I never really… marri’d Pierre. But you need to understand. They took ‘im and sent me a message yesterday. At first, I was just forc’ed to to tell them everything that was happening in ‘ere—” She broke in sobs. “But now… they took ‘im too and will kill him if I do not obey. Mr Bingley! They’re goin’ to kill ‘im and say it was the curse. I’m sorry. I need’d to help them or they’d have kill’d my Pierre!”
Dumbfounded, I was still in shock when Elizabeth brought Miss Nancarrow to the sofa, sitting beside her and offering her a cup of hot tea. The poor woman could not be much older than Elizabeth. “Miss Nancarrow, I know you are not a murderer. You were with Jane taking care of me when I most needed it, and I will be forever grateful for it. But please, help us. Do you know where we can find Mr Bingley? I am sure the courts would grace you with clemency i
f you help us. Am I not right, Detective O’Connell?”
Mr O’Connell gave me a meaningful glance, the corners of his lips discreetly twitching before he turned to Elizabeth. “You are correct, Mrs Darcy. Any help will be duly considered.”
For the next half an hour, Miss Nancarrow told us everything. The pirates — as there was no other word to describe them — were informed the owner of two of the ships they were using for their contraband was coming to Penzance to inspect his business personally. To keep one eye on Bingley, Mr and Miss Nancarrow were presented as butler and housekeeper. But the pirates had not kept their part of the bargain, and now Monsieur Les Champ, who was considered nothing more than a weak link in their chain, was taken, serving the pirates’ purpose one last time. Monsieur Les Champ, Mr and Miss Nancarrow, therefore, were at the pirates’ mercy. Elizabeth and I spending a night at Land’s End had been seen as an unexpected stroke of good luck. After Elizabeth and I were dead, they knew Bingley would leave the area and return to London with his wife to mourn the loss of his friend. But they did not count on both of us surviving the experience — or someone else fighting their man as he entered the house to finish the job. Now I knew I had been their intended target that night. After being discovered as the farce they are, they turned to superstition again. They would kill Bingley and blame me and Elizabeth for his death, inciting the locals against us and forcing our escape back to security. Or worse. As far as I could understand, they just needed time to unload the ship and God only knows what they would do next.
“This letter, askin’ ye to return to London was just an attempt to outwit ye all. They’re keepin’ Pierre and Mr Bingley at the old mine. I ‘eard one of them sayin’ Mr Bingley’s ship would be unloaded today and the other items would head by boat to Land’s End. Taking Mr Bingley was a desperate act to guarantee them time to unload the cargo. But that’s not all. They also found an informant.”
Mr Pascoe stood up and approached Miss Nancarrow. “Do you know this informant’s name?”
She nodded. “It is the old Jowan. You must know ‘im.”
“Yes, I do. Or better saying, I did. They found his body this morning at the port. Drowned, they said.” He turned to Mr O’Connell. “That is the case I mentioned when you arrived.”
The room fell silent again.
I stood up. “I think we need to leave — or at least, give them that impression if we want to buy some time.”
Richard and O’Connell looked at Mr Pascoe. “What do you think?” Richard asked.
“I think Mr Darcy might have a point. And if I am correct, this plan does not include they leaving with the ladies. Does it, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth’s widened eyes turned to me.
All other eyes followed her and I had to swallow hard to pass the lump in my throat. “If we let them believe we have left, we men can return to the old mine and look for Bingley. If they really are in such a rush and their cargo is to be unloaded today, they might have all hands at work and hopefully will be too busy to notice our approach if they believe we have left. Knowing about their plans, we have the element of surprise in our hands.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth, shaking her head, but said nothing. She knew I was right.
Richard became serious. “I do not see any other option. Do you, O’Connell? Was not that what you were expecting? To know the day they would unload their cargo? Well, I believe this is our chance.”
Mr O’Connell and Richard exchanged a silent dialogue, but I knew this was not what Mr O’Connell or Mr Pascoe had in mind. Mr O’Connell took a deep breath, then turned to Miss Nancarrow. “Do you know what time they intend to unload their cargo?”
“No, sir. But it must be late in the night. No soul would dare to go there after dark.”
We agreed on a plan. The ladies would pack everything and leave in our two carriages towards Truro and spend the night there. The male servants would accompany them wearing our clothes — just in case someone was observing us. Richard and I, dressed as footmen, would follow in Mr O’Connell’s carriage back to Penzance. He would send his expected word to Truro to have his men meet us at the coast. In the meantime, Mr Pascoe would gather his local men, more guns and munition, and we would ride to Land’s End to arrest the criminals and try to find Bingley.
The plan seemed good. It just needed to work.
Chapter 31
Elizabeth
Leaving William behind was one of the most difficult things I have done in my life. But despite my despair, I knew there was no other option. They needed to find Charles. It was only Jane’s distressed eyes looking at me that gave me strength to enter the carriage.
Now, almost an hour later and still holding Jane’s cold hands in mine, the pain of that last memory had not diminished one bit.
“William, I… do not want to leave you…” I whispered, stopping by the carriage.
He raised my hands to his chest. “I know, my love. I doubt you dislike this more than I do. But this is beyond you and me now. If what Mr Pascoe says is true, it is not just a matter of finding Bingley. It involves the whole kingdom… and we need to do something.”
His words hung in the air, the seriousness of them removing any resistance left in me up to that moment. “I know, and I am very proud of you for wanting to do this. But I am… terrified of losing you—” My voice broke in an unplanned sob.
William brought me close and wrapped me in a comforting embrace. My arms found their way around him, and I wanted to be there forever and never let him go. But I knew Jane was waiting for me in the carriage. They had taken her husband from her with no mercy, and she, above all people, did not deserve that. If William believed he could help find Charles, I would believe it too.
I loosened my grip on his body. “Please, be careful. And come back to me in one piece. Promise?”
A gentle finger dried my wet face. His lips curved, but not enough to reach his eyes. “Nothing but death will keep me away from you, and I am not planning to die anytime soon. I still have a wedding night to enjoy.” His mouth came over mine in a desperate kiss.
But instead of reassurance, the intensity of that kiss gave life to a war. I felt overwhelmed by the implications at stake. Jane and I could end up widows by the next dawn.
Charlotte’s voice asking the colonel to be careful brought me back from my painful thoughts. I turned and saw him helping her and Jane into the carriage, a deep frown on his face as he kissed Charlotte’s hand.
I swallowed my pain and let William usher me into the carriage. I would not allow my mind to feel that kiss as a silent goodbye. I would take it for what it was, an assurance of his vow. He would come back.
“I will be waiting for you,” I said through the window as the noise of hooves on the ground covered those last words.
A handkerchief in front of me broke my ruminations. “Here, Lizzy. Use mine. I guess yours must be useless by now,” Charlotte said.
I took it and dried my face. Turning to my side, I saw Jane dozing on my shoulder, a blanket wrapped around her. Her uncontrollable sobs had drained all her remaining strength. “Thank you for being such a good friend, Charlotte. For both of us. And sorry for all this. You have just arrived and are forced to travel again.”
“I did not come here on holiday, Lizzy. I came to be with you.” There was a long pause before she added, “How is it, Lizzy? Being in love, finding the… you know, the person. I never was romantic or believed real love existed. But I cannot deny it now. I have seen it. In you and Mr Darcy, and Jane and Mr Bingley.”
Her question made me think. “I am not sure. When I saw him for the first time, it was like being struck by lightning. It took my breath away. But as time passed and I became aware of his flaws — and believe me, the man has many annoying flaws — they did not really matter. Together with his virtues, they are part of who he is, his character, his principles and beliefs. And I wanted it all…”
My mind relived every time we had been together. Those memories brought me peace.
William had condemned himself to a loveless life in a marriage he despised, just for the sake of his sister. Granted that he had been motivated by an undeserved guilt. But his determination to do what he believed was right was beyond words. A man like him could achieve whatever he wished, given the proper motivation.
I looked at Charlotte fidgeting with her gloves. She chuckled. “Oh, dear…”
“What?” I asked confused.
“If what you say is the definition of finding the right person, I believe I am in trouble…”
I frowned. “You mean… the Colonel?”
She raised her eyes to me, her lips pursed. She nodded and lowered her eyes again. “The night I arrived, Mr Darcy and he were in the drawing room. Jane introduced us and soon Mr Darcy left. I thought he would follow. But he did not. Instead, he stayed with Jane and me, talking and laughing, Lizzy. He was shamelessly flirting with me, but in the most elegant way, asking hundreds of questions. The way he was looking at me, I felt… beautiful. But the most shocking part was his interest in me, what I liked, what I was reading. At first, I was confused, but then I felt his interest as genuine. I tried to relax and enjoy our time, not for a second hiding myself for his sake. Looking back now, I think that night was the most enjoyable conversation I have ever had with a male companion.
Our carriage came to a halt. Charlotte looked through the window. “I believe we have arrived.”
“We will finish this conversation later,” I said, squeezing her hand.
She just smiled at me.
Jane woke and we were gathering our things when the door opened and Dr Alden and the disguised footmen helped us out. I was still rearranging my clothes when I saw a carriage I knew well, and frowned.