by Rose Lorimer
Dr Alden looked at me. “What is it, Mrs Darcy?”
“That carriage. It belongs to my Uncle Edward. Is it not his, Jane?”
Jane looked at where I was pointing. She looked back at me confused. “It is.”
Moved more by instincts than good sense, I ran into the inn, ignoring Dr Alden’s admonitions. Among the crowd gathered in the taproom, my eyes rested on a familiar man’s back. “Uncle Edward!”
He turned and his eyes widened. “Lizzy? What—”
I hugged him with an intensity that almost sent us both to the floor. My uncle Gardiner was second in my affections just to my father. “Oh, Uncle! It is so good to see you.”
A deep frown followed his natural shock when he saw Jane also approaching. “What is going on? Why are you two here and crying? What happened?”
I gave Jane some space and she threw herself in his arms, sobbing again, ignoring the curious stares at them. “I-It is Charles, Uncle. They t-took him.”
“What? What are you saying. Child?” Uncle Edward asked visibly shocked, a hundred and one questions in his eyes.
Before I could answer, Dr Alden come closer and suggested we take a seat. My uncle looked at him, then at us, but complied. As we sat, Dr Alden ordered some tea and brandy. They exchanged introductions, and Uncle Edward observed the old doctor attentively, but said nothing more. Once the drinks were served, he took a good gulp of his brandy and said, “Now girls, the facts, if you please.”
We retold the whole story. Twice, he took generous gulps from his brandy. When the story was finally concluded, he kept silent, rubbing his face. Despite his self-control, I guessed he was struggling to believe what we had said.
He pointed at me. “From everything you said, there is one point I do not understand. You said this Mr Glowbrenn rented Bingley the house and later extended the rental, considering your poor health. Now I will be damned if I understand this.” He went to his belongings and brought us a letter. “Dr Alden, do you mind reading it? I want to be sure I am not going mad.”
Dr Alden began to read but in the middle of it he stopped, slowly resting the letter on the table.
“What is it, Dr Alden?” Jane and I asked at the same time.
“This letter is from a real estate company here in Truro. It is informing Mr Bingley that Mr Glowbrenn unfortunately… passed away last July, but they would be happy to introduce him to another agent. The house address is also a different one…”
The temperature in the crowded room seemed to have dropped many degrees.
“How is that possible, Uncle,” Jane whispered in panic, her self-control kept by a thread. “I saw him! I saw the man myself!”
Uncle’s eyes softened as he took her hand. “Jane, dear. You said the housekeeper and the butler were not who they said they were. Perhaps that is the same with this Mr Glowbrenn.”
Dr Alden scoffed. “It all makes sense now. Who introduced Mr and Miss Nancarrow as servants? Who took Mr Bingley to a different house? After Mr Bingley contacted the real estate brokers, this impostor must have intercepted their mail. Girl!” he shouted for the passing servant.
The girl approached. “Can I get you somethin’ else, sir?”
“Please, do you know any Mr Glowbrenn from these parts?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir. But I can ask my Da.”
“You do it, dear.”
She nodded and ran to the kitchen.
“Uncle, why are you here after all?” I asked, wondering about such a coincidence.
“Bingley sent me a letter and asked me to come and help him with our ships. As he knew I had neglected his business in the weeks he spent in Hertfordshire — especially those prior to his wedding — he believed he had forgotten something and asked me to bring everything. This letter was still unopened…”
A man came from the kitchen still cleaning his hands on his apron as he bowed. “Evenin’ gentlemen, ladies. My Kate said you are lookin’ for Glowbrenn?”
“Yes. Do you know him?” Uncle asked anxiously.
“Aye. Well, knew him. He died last July. Nasty thing it was. Drowned…”
“Did he have any sons or brothers?” Dr Alden asked. It was a good question. A family member running the business could be our last hope.
“Aye, had two children, but they are small brats. He was a young lad and had no brothers, just sisters. Had just begun lookin’ after the houses of the rich, if you want to know. Very sad,” he concluded, shaking his head. “Anything else?”
Dr Alden sighed. “No, sir. Thank you.” Once the man was gone, he turned to us. “Mr Darcy and the colonel told me this Mr Glowbrenn seemed to be too educated to be a simple agent. He also knew about Mr Darcy’s French origin — as only a man knowledgeable of history would.” The last words left his lips as a whisper.
My heart stopped. “He is involved in all of this.” This was not a question, or a supposition, but a fact.
“Yes, my dear, Mrs Darcy. I believe we can conclude that. The question now is how this new information changes our men’s plans?”
I stood up. “We need to go back and tell them. We can trust no one now. Not anymore.”
Chapter 32
Darcy
“I will be waiting for you,” she said, as the carriage took her away from me. The emptiness I felt was almost unbearable. Had I not been firmly resolved to find my dear friend, I am sure I would not have endured it. But Bingley was out there somewhere, and we were probably his last chance of survival.
Turning to the house, the voices seemed distant, incomprehensible at first. I felt disconnected from our reality, so I concentrated on following orders, fetching extra clothing, food, preparing to leave. Once we were done, we all went to Mr O’Connell’s carriage and back to Penzance to regroup and plan.
At Mr Pascoe’s house, I looked at Richard and found him in his element. He was a man of war and his mind and body were fully engaged on his tasks. I noticed the way he and Mr O’Connell worked together, exchanging impressions and making decisions. In that moment I understood not just what it means to be at war, but to prepare yourself physically and emotionally to battle and work as a unit, aiming for the same goal. All my history classes returned to mind, all the people who had given their lives to save others, till my mind paused in the most brutal and painful sacrifice of them all, the death of our saviour on a cross.
Those memories had an unexpected effect on me. I thought I would be terrified by what fate presented before me. But I was not. I was at peace, determined. For the first time since I can remember, I knew what I was doing was for a greater cause, fighting for something that was not for myself and my direct interests, and I was happy to be part of it. I would not have chosen it, but knowing I had no option, I just embraced it.
“Darcy?” I heard Richard calling me and gesturing for me to join them in the kitchen.
As I walked towards him, I realised I also was preparing myself. With each step towards the group at the kitchen table, my mind was more focused on saving Bingley’s life and, God willing, arresting those criminals.
We could do it.
“Darcy, do you think you can find the place where you fell into the mine?”
I thought for a moment. “I believe I can. It was going up a hill, close to a grove. It cannot be difficult to find.”
“Good,” Mr O’Connell said. “Based on what Mr Pascoe knows about that part of the coast and what you remember from your unfortunate visit, we are guessing there are three entrances. I will lead the first group to the main one here,” he said, pointing at the map stretched on the table. “Pascoe will lead another group to the entrance close to the house and, Fitzwilliam, you and Mr Darcy will need to find that hole. Your mission is to sneak inside and find Mr Bingley. We will proceed with a surprise attack, hopefully creating enough distraction for you two. Just be aware of their weapons, especially those poisoned darts. If my messenger does not encounter any problem on his way, my men should meet us there in two hours.” He looked around and sighed. �
��When everything is finished, we will regroup at the house where Mr Darcy stayed and attend the injured.” He paused and looked at us. “Good luck to us all.”
The small group dispersed, and Richard and I took our time gathering what we needed, eating a light meal and adding extra layers of clothing. Once the horses were loaded with ropes, guns and munition, Richard checked his watch and nodded.
We were ready to leave for Land’s End.
***
The night was freezing cold, the deafening sound of the wind like a disembodied being voicing its threats. There were no clouds, no moon, only the stars kept us company. I pulled the lapels of my greatcoat tighter around my neck and shivered. I have lived in Derbyshire my whole life, have faced storms, blizzards and sleet, but never have I felt so cold.
We unloaded the horses and left them at Sennen Cove, making the rest of the way on foot, maximizing our chances for an unnoticeable approach.
“How are you doing, Darcy?” Richard asked after some time.
“I am not sure,” I replied honestly. “Every time I raise my eyes towards that grove, it is as if an invisible claw clutches my heart. But, at the same time, I feel focused on what needs to be done. Bingley is one of my best friends. I cannot fail him.”
“I know the feeling. I have been a soldier for over ten years now, and yet, every time I prepare for battle, I feel afraid, doubtful. So many things remain out of my control. So many things can go wrong. But your words remind me what O’Connell used to say. ‘Being brave is not acting for lack of fear, but acting despite it’.”
His words gave me pause. That was exactly it.
Before I could think about what else to say, I saw the hole in the ground. “There!”
Richard approached the edge and nodded. He raised his gaze, looking around and pointed behind us. “We will tie the rope to that tree and go down.”
Despite the drums in my ears, our descent was uneventful, as were our steps until we reached the place where our small tunnel merged with the larger one. As before, the tunnel was well illuminated, but instead of sounds of moaning and pain, we heard men shouting and metallic sounds we guessed were the mine carts being dragged on the old and rusted tracks.
Richard checked his watch. “O’Connell’s men should arrive at any moment now. We move at the first sound of something strange happening. Do you remember this part?”
“Yes. Elizabeth and I went that way. It leads to that large shaft with the rope bridge, and then to the exit close to the house.”
Richard stretched his neck both ways. “Then, we will go in the opposite direction. Pascoe told me they used the main shafts to link the tunnels and lift materials from the mine. I do not think they would keep Bingley there. Too busy, if that is the case. Our best chance is to find a more secluded place. Considering what you said about the other exit, I believe there must be a direct connection to the river that way. It would be easier to transport things from a ship into the mine.”
“Or the opposite,” I said thoughtfully. “If they know Mr Pascoe is close to finding the truth, they cannot keep this ghostly façade anymore. I would guess they must be taking their cargo to a ship instead of unloading it. It would make more sense.”
“You might be right. But we need to concentrate on our missi—”
A loud explosion interrupted Richard’s words.
“My God! They must have a cannon! Quick now, Darcy,” he said, taking his two pistols and rushing into the tunnel. I took mine and followed.
Sounds of explosions, gunshots, and men shouting echoed through the tunnels behind us mingling with my fast breathing rhythm and heartbeat. I only prayed we had taken the right direction and Bingley was not trapped somewhere among that confusion.
After some more minutes, we came across an ample area and I had to blink twice before acknowledging what was in front of me. Stacked crates shared the space with shattered pieces of clay as two black men — one of them of low stature and crooked — kept breaking them and pocketing the small parcels we knew well now. Beside them, many pieces of black fur were piled together with at least a dozen cages of small frogs. Zarabatanas of different sizes and an uncountable number of wooden darts were displayed in small boxes on a table.
We had found their lair.
“Halt! And lift your hands!” Richard shouted, pointing his pistols in their direction.
Damn Richard’s sense of honour!
The two men stopped.
“Ye!” they said at the same time looking at us, leaping to their own pistols.
“Left, Darcy!” Richard shouted again.
They did not even touch their pistols. Our moves were faster and the aim precise. With only two shots, both men were instantly dead.
Still panting, Richard and I exchanged relieved glances. “Who said playing war is bad for boys? Thank God, you remembered it,” he said, discarding his empty pistol.
Images of our childhood came to life, Richard and I pretending to defend Pemberley against invisible enemies, our slings and stones in hand.
“We need to find Bingley now,” he said, fetching one of the pirate’s pistols and checking it.
Now that it was over, I was grateful Richard had given them a chance to surrender. I would have hated to add cold revenge to my many reasons for guilt. Because revenge it would have been. The eyes of that man approaching me and the cruelty of his words about Elizabeth were still too raw in my memory.
“What about the gems?” I asked, regaining my senses and looking at the surrounding chaos.
“They can come later for them.” Richard took one of the zarabatanas and gave it a good look, then turned to the frogs. “How can these disgusting little creatures be so poisonous?”
A pair of Hessian Boots behind a crate caught my eye. “Richard! Over there!”
We ran and my blood curdled at the sight of Bingley’s battered and still body on the ground. Richard reached for his neck. “He is alive.” He cut the ropes around his wrists and ankles and groped his body. “No broken bones. We can carry him.” He tapped Bingley’s face. “Bingley, Bingley!”
Despite his swollen face, Bingley opened his eyes and looked at us confused. “D-Darcy? Colonel?”
I knelt down beside him and pulled his arm around my neck, mirroring Richard’s actions. “Yes, pal. We came for you. Now, hold on. We are taking you back.”
The sound of someone running in our direction interrupted our escape.
Richard looked at us and frowned. “Hide behind the crates.”
I nodded, taking Bingley with me.
He bent down and grabbed one of the pirate’s pistols, just in time to see a man halting and reaching for his own pistol.
I startled. “No! Do not shoot!” I shouted, coming out of my hiding place. “Mr Glowbrenn, it is I, Darcy.” The two men looked at me surprised. “Richard, he is the broker who rented Bingley the house!”
Mr Glowbrenn shifted his gaze between me, Richard and the two dead men on the ground, his countenance changing from pure rage into something more like understanding. “Mr Darcy! Thank God. Those men took me, but when an inferno broke at the main entrance, I escaped and stole one of their guns. It seems somebody found out about this place and now an invasion is taking place! We need to leave immediately!”
Richard put his gun back to his waist belt. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just a bit shaken.”
“Have you seen another man, a Frenchman called Pierre?”
Mr Glowbrenn’s eyes narrowed. “No. I saw no one else, I mean, apart from the pirates.”
“Come then. You can help Darcy carry Bingley. He is in bad shape. I will make sure our way is clear.”
Mr Glowbrenn followed me and gave Bingley a strange look. We lifted Bingley and followed Richard as he led the way back to where we had come.
When we arrived at the entrance of the smaller tunnel, Richard grabbed one torch and entered it. For some reason, Mr Glowbrenn seemed to hesitate, looking around.
“What is it? We need
to hurry!” I whispered angrily.
“Sorry. I am just shocked with everything. Do not mind me.”
Richard gave him a strange look before turning and continuing on his way.
At the bottom of the hole, Richard climbed first.
“How did you find this place?” Mr Glowbrenn asked as we tied the rope around Bingley’s torso.
“It was an accident, actually. Elizabeth and I came to see Land’s End and fell into this hole. After much struggle, we found the exit which leads to a house. That is also how we came across this curse.”
Richard pulled Bingley up.
“And you said you had not come to Cornwall with conquering intentions, Mr Darcy. But it seems you just helped to dismantle a group of sanguinary pirates.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Now what?”
I could not decide about the man’s tone, whether he was relieved or still shocked and confused. “Now we will return and meet the others, then back to the house you rented Bingley.”
He nodded. “I cannot wait.”
Chapter 33
Elizabeth
“No!” my uncle exclaimed at my words. “There is no we. I am going. You are not going anywhere near that place. It is too dangerous.”
I felt something like to a volcano burning my throat and exploding through my mouth. “Uncle, I love you very much, but this time I cannot comply. I am not Miss Elizabeth anymore. I am Mrs Darcy, and my husband is out there, risking his life to save his friend and freeing the world from dangerous criminals. If something that was in my power to prevent happens to him, I will never forgive myself, but I will never forgive you either. Besides, if I do not go with you, you might take ages to find them. And it might be too late when you do.” If my uncle thought I would relent, he was terribly mistaken.
An uncomfortable silence followed, his grey eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. All around the table were looking at me as if I had grown another head. And perhaps I had. The head of a woman in love and whose husband was potentially digging himself into uncalculated danger.