The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London Book 4)

by Adele Clee

  Lady Cornell’s countenance turned deathly pale. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but I can tell you—”

  “I saw you shoot the gentleman,” Mr Joseph said. “I read the letter you sent to Lord Trevane asking him to meet you here.”

  Ross had left the letter in the carriage. Wickett must have shown it to him.

  “I drew the knife because I thought Lord Trevane’s life was in danger,” Estelle said, feeling the need to explain her aggressive actions. “I was waiting outside with Mr Joseph when I grew fearful for his lordship’s welfare.”

  Sir Malcolm’s gaze drifted to the decorative necklace on the table. He ventured over and ran his fingers over the gems.

  “Take Lady Cornell into custody, Johnson.”

  “No! Wait!” Lady Cornell cried. “Do you know who I am? You can’t do this.”

  Johnson came forward. “Yes, Sir Malcolm.”

  But Lady Cornell punched and kicked out until he had no choice but to restrain her.

  “If the devil won’t keep still put her in chains,” Sir Malcolm said with an air of frustration.

  Wickett offered his assistance, and after another violent scuffle, Johnson finally led Lady Cornell away amid a cacophony of blasphemous curses.

  “Well, Withers?” Sir Malcolm said, staring at the body on the floor. “Will he live? Can we question him?”

  Ross coughed into his fist. “While I have no regard for Lord Cornell, the man has been shot. Must you take his statement now?”

  Sir Malcolm raised a brow. “I’m afraid the law is intolerant when it comes to showing compassion to criminals, my lord. The man is a jewel thief. Evidence of his crime is there on the table. Forgive me, but I would like to know details of any accomplices if he’s not long for this world.”

  Ross’ mouth fell open. “A jewel thief? Lord Cornell?”

  “That is what the facts suggest. Your man, Mr Joseph, is the one who made the discovery and so the Crown is indebted to you.” Sir Malcolm inclined his head. “Now, I will require a statement regarding the events of the evening. But for now, you’re both free to leave.”

  A look of suspicion marred Ross’ features. “Do you not need me to fetch a doctor?”

  Sir Malcolm shook his head. “Withers here was trained by the Surgeon General during the Peninsular War when the medical teams were severely understaffed. It was enough to deter him from the profession, but he can be called upon on occasion to remove a lead ball if need be.”

  Clearly, Sir Malcolm wanted them out of the way. The thefts appeared to be more important to him than attempted murder.

  Ross inclined his head. “Then we shall leave you to your work.”

  Ross offered Estelle his arm, and they walked out of the museum with Wickett in tow.

  “We should have a doctor look at the knife wound to your stomach,” Estelle said.

  “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “You can tend to it for me.” From his blunt tone, and stone-like countenance, he was not himself.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “Angry? No. Livid? Most definitely. One mistake and that woman would have taken your life.”

  “Where to, my lord?” Wickett said as they approached the carriage, unaware of their little spat.

  “I imagine Miss Darcy is keen to return to Whitecombe Street,” Ross said. “I’m sure the people who care about her would like to know she is safe.”

  “I shall tend to his lordship’s scratch before we set off.” It would leave more time on the journey home to work on soothing his temper. Else he might seek to take his frustration out on rogues in an alley. “And then you may head to Whitecombe Street.”

  “Right you are, miss.” Wickett opened the carriage door and gave a knowing grin. “Shall I take the scenic route? Happen there’s a lot to discuss, considering what happened in the museum.”

  “Yes, Wickett,” Estelle said, trying not to look at Ross as she could feel her cheeks flame. “His lordship has a voracious appetite for conversation.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Their amorous antics in the carriage on the journey home went some way to calming Ross’ temper. Though it wasn’t anger that gripped him when he recalled the memory of Estelle creeping up on Lady Cornell while wielding the knife — it was fear.

  Being inside Estelle’s warm body banished all irrational thoughts of losing the only thing that mattered. But as he could not keep her prisoner in his bed, he knew he had to get his erratic emotions under control.

  After a day spent giving statements and answering Sir Malcolm’s questions until the magistrate was satisfied, Vane suggested it was time to put Fabian out of his misery, and Estelle agreed.

  “You’re quiet,” Estelle said as they sat in his carriage rattling along the coastal road on the way to Branscombe in Devonshire. “You’ve hardly spoken since we stopped to change the horses in Weycroft. Have the events of the last week finally taken their toll?”

  Vane had pushed thoughts of Mr Hungerford’s nefarious deeds from his mind. Cornell was dead, and his wife would hang for his murder. It should have brought an element of satisfaction — but it did not. So many lives destroyed, and for what?

  Greed?

  Obsession?

  Certainly not love.

  The suspicious part of his nature wondered whether Sir Malcolm wanted Lord Cornell to die. Five days had passed since the incident in the museum and there had been no mention of the jewel thefts in the broadsheets. If people were to learn that a lord stole from the Crown, it would only shake stability amongst the ranks. Now it was but a simple case of a marital disagreement escalating to murder.

  Not that it mattered. Their part in it was over.

  Vane glanced at the woman he loved with every fibre of his being. She was nervous. He could tell. The tears she’d shed upon leaving the Erstwhiles had long since dried, but her lips were drawn thin. She nibbled the inside of her cheek and fiddled with the hem on her jacket.

  “I was just thinking about Fabian,” Vane said, hoping it would prompt Estelle to reveal her troubles. “Eight years is a long time. I know he will be waiting on the dock, eager for your arrival.”

  “That is if he received your letter.”

  Estelle had taken to inventing problems in her mind. Fabian would be away on a long voyage. The inclement weather would prevent them from crossing to the island even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

  “Fabian received the letter,” he reassured her, “and we will be with them in a matter of hours.” The thought of seeing Lillian brought a warm glow to Vane’s chest.

  “Does he look the same?” Estelle glanced out of the window at the calm sea stretching out to the horizon. “I keep picturing the young man with hope in his eyes and so much love in his heart.”

  Vane could hear the silent words lingering within the comment. What she really wanted to know was if Fabian had been tainted by his experiences. Had grief stripped away all that was good and left him bitter, resentful.

  “He looks every bit a pirate.” Vane chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. “His hair is far too long, and he exudes a devil-may-care attitude that frightens most men. But his eyes carry the same look of hope. His heart is still full of love.”

  She smiled, and a contented sigh breezed from her lips. “I wonder if it will be awkward between us, strained even, if he might struggle to suppress his disappointment in me.”

  Vane crossed the carriage and settled beside her. “Please stop worrying.” He took her in his arms and kissed away her fears. “You survived four years with a gang of smugglers. You can survive a reunion with a stubborn pirate.”

  “I know,” she said cupping his cheek. “But this means so much to me. Once we are reunited, I can finally move beyond the past and embrace life. And I have missed him so much, Ross.”

  “I understand.” He was close to his sister, too. But Estelle was wrong to think they had nothing else to fear.

  Guilt surfaced, accompanied by a
flicker of doubt. These uncomfortable sensations had nothing to do with her brother. Vane was confident Fabian would welcome Estelle as if the last eight years had never existed. But while the problems in London were behind them, there were a few matters in France that needed addressing.

  “You’ve hardly slept these last few days,” Vane said stroking her hair in a slow soothing rhythm. “Close your eyes and I shall wake you when we reach Branscombe.”

  She shrank down in the seat and huddled closer to him. “I shall try.”

  They arrived in Branscombe at noon. Vane booked Wickett a room at the coaching inn so he could catch a few hours’ sleep. Fabian’s men were already waiting on the beach ready to ferry them across to the island.

  “Remember, the sailors are somewhat unconventional,” Vane said as they walked across the shingle.

  The Scot, Mackenzie, strode over and slapped Vane on the back. “Och, it’s good to see you’ve not lost that brooding expression. It’s a look that makes men quiver in their boots.”

  “Most men, but not you, Mackenzie,” Vane said with a smirk. He wondered what Estelle made of the large red-haired fellow.

  “When a man’s been swamped by giant waves, there’s not much that can frighten him after that. Och, and I’ve seen wind whip clothes off a man’s back.”

  Estelle stiffened at Vane’s side. “I agree, Mr Mackenzie. There is nothing more terrifying than a storm at sea.”

  Vane turned to Estelle. “That doesn’t stop Mackenzie diving into the water at any given opportunity.”

  “Did your mother not tell you that the best way to deal with fears is to tackle them head-on?”

  “I believe we ran into each other before, Mr Mackenzie,” Estelle said. “In Paris.”

  “Aye, one look at my ginger beard and you raced away as fast as your legs could carry you.” Mackenzie bowed his head. “Miss Darcy, I cannot tell you how it warms my heart to know you’re well. There’ll be ale all round tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “Thank you, Mr Mackenzie.”

  “Come now.” The Scot took their luggage and ushered them towards the boat. “His lordship has been waiting on the dock all morning. His toes are probably frozen in his boots.”

  “Could you just give us a moment alone before we depart?” Vane said. This would be their last opportunity to speak privately for some time.

  “Aye,” Mackenzie said with a grin. “We’ll wait for you in the boat.”

  “What is it?” Estelle turned to him and placed her hand on his chest. “Your heart is racing.”

  Vane took her hand. “Do you remember when you came to Hanover Square, and I asked you if you loved me?”

  A smile graced her lips. “How could I forget?”

  “You didn’t ask how I felt and so I want to tell you now, before … well, before Fabian captures you and refuses to let you go.” Any trace of amusement in his voice was fleeting.

  Estelle gazed deeply into his eyes. “Then let me reaffirm what I said. I love you, Ross. There is no one in this world for me but you.”

  Vane swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You are the love of my life, Estelle. I love you more now than I ever have. You’re strong when you need to be, daring even when you shouldn’t be. You’re not afraid to show your vulnerability and I admire that.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Have I told you I love you?”

  “Twice, I think.” Her beaming smile warmed his heart.

  “Then never forget it.” Vane kissed her quickly on the lips and then gestured to the boat. “Fabian has lived for eight years thinking he would never see you again. Let us go and put an end to his torment.”

  Vane helped her into the boat and they set off for Raven Island.

  Mackenzie hummed a tune as he took to the oars. “From what I remember, my lord, your rowing skills would put any seafaring man to shame.”

  Fighting with men in dark alleys had given him a tremendous amount of upper body strength. “At the time, we were rushing to rescue my sister,” Vane said. “Panic does that to a man.”

  Estelle sat silently beside him, staring at the dot of land on the horizon. Her countenance grew more subdued with each stroke of the oars. When the island came into full view, she sighed.

  “It looks beautiful here.”

  Vane had been so enraged the day he’d first come to the island, he’d failed to notice the true magnificence of the landscape. The sun shone down upon hills of flourishing green vegetation. Gulls swooped in the sky. The water sparkled. The fresh, briny scent of the sea air calmed the mind.

  “It truly is a haven away from the world.” He turned to Estelle and noticed a tear running down her cheek. Without saying a word, he simply held her hand.

  “Not long until we reach the dock,” Mackenzie said. “Happen we’ll find the men hanging from the top-sail just to get a wee look at you.”

  There were a handful of sailors on the dock. Amongst them Vane saw Fabian standing with his arm wrapped around Lillian, holding her close. Vane’s heart swelled at the sight of his sister. She looked so happy, so carefree, and for that he owed Fabian a debt so huge it could never be repaid.

  They drew alongside the landing pier. Mackenzie threw a line and one sailor rushed forward, tied a knot and slipped it over the piling.

  Vane climbed out onto the wooden walkway. He held out his hand and brought Estelle up to join him. For a few seconds, Fabian and Estelle just looked at each other and then she picked up her skirts and ran. Fabian took flight, too, the thud of his boots on the planks obliterating the squawks of the gulls.

  Estelle jumped into her brother’s arms and he hugged her tightly. They both dropped to their knees, still hugging, and yet laughing at the same time.

  While the pair held each other close, Vane met Lillian’s gaze. She smiled and hurried towards him, took his hands and squeezed.

  “I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to see you.” She released one hand and touched his cheek tenderly. “I cannot tell you how much this means to Fabian.”

  “It seems your husband was right all along.” And Vane was the blind fool who refused to listen.

  “Love brings hope does it not?”

  “Indeed.”

  “How on earth did you find her?” Lillian’s eyes widened in her eagerness to hear the tale.

  “I didn’t.” Vane couldn’t help but smile. Even Mr Joseph had struggled to locate her. “She found me. I would like to take the credit, but it was purely accidental.”

  “Or perhaps Fate played a part,” Lillian said.

  He didn’t know how things happened as they did. Occasionally, he wondered if one’s destiny was already decided. If all events, good and bad, were merely lessons in one’s development. Perhaps one couldn’t understand the lesson because it was part of an infinitely bigger picture.

  “When Estelle left, I lost my faith in life, in love, in everything. So I’m inclined to think you’re right. I’ve lived without faith and I’ve learnt to trust in it again.”

  Lillian searched his face. “You seem different. Have you and Estelle reconciled your differences?”

  “We have.” Vane nodded. Oh, they had done so much more than that. “I love her, Lillian, and she feels the same way.”

  Lillian gave a contented sigh. “It is what I have always known. It is what I have prayed for.”

  Behind them Fabian took Estelle’s hand. He placed it in the crook of his arm and escorted her away from the dock to the path leading up to the castle.

  Estelle glanced back over her shoulder and Vane’s heart lurched. The look she gave him conveyed the depth of her devotion. He smiled back and hoped she would understand what he had to do.

  Mackenzie dabbed his eyes as he prepared to climb out of the small vessel. “Och, it’s a sight to behold. I can tell you that. The drink will flow tonight.”

  “Wait.” Vane held up his hand to prevent Mackenzie from climbing up onto the landing pier. “Do not disembark yet.”

  Lillian frowned. “Is something wrong?” S
he looked at Vane and then at the boat. “Why do you want Mackenzie to remain in the boat?”

  Vane’s tongue grew thick in his mouth as he struggled to find the right words.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Lillian blurted.

  “I’m afraid, I must.”

  “Is it because of Estelle? If you love her why can’t you stay? Talk to me.”

  “Lillian, I will if you stop bombarding me with questions. I have important business elsewhere. That is all.”

  Lillian fell silent though her eyes flitted back and forth as though trying to make sense of it all. “Does Estelle know of these business plans?”

  “No.” He reached into his coat pocket and handed Lillian a letter. “Will you give this to Estelle? Tell her I pray she understands. Tell her to wait for me.”

  Lillian shook her head repeatedly. “But I don’t understand. Why can’t you stay and explain?” Two deep lines appeared between her brows.

  Good God, he wanted nothing more than to spend a week in a castle with the woman he loved.

  “Because Estelle needs time alone with Fabian without a distraction. And there is something I must do for her if she’s ever to be free of the nightmare she’s lived these last eight years.”

  “Then leave tomorrow. Come up to the castle and dine with us. Have a good night’s rest before you embark on your journey.”

  “Lillian, stop it. You’re only making it more difficult.”

  Vane closed his eyes briefly.

  One word from Estelle and he would never leave her side. They had a future together, years to spend living the life they’d dreamed. But she could not live in peace while fearing the smugglers. He could not permit their children to suffer for someone else’s mistake.

  “You know Estelle will beg me not to go,” he continued. “You know she will insist that my reasons don’t matter. But our father was to blame for what happened to her and I will at least attempt to put it right.”