by Louise, Kara
Georgiana had readily seen in his face and demeanour the anguish he felt. She repeatedly asked him what was wrong, and he continually assured her – with little success – that nothing was amiss. He could see the look of worry deepen on her features.
He finally deemed it prudent to distance himself from her before she became more concerned about him than she already was. He decided he must leave before she discovered the truth.
He sent her to Pemberley to spend the summer there, which she did each year. As he bade her farewell, Darcy had forced a loving smile on his face, which was not too difficult where his sister was concerned. He told her that he would not be staying in London for long, but would be visiting friends and would try to write to her as often as possible.
He closed his eyes as remorse flooded him that he had only written her once. He shuddered at the thought that she might come to learn he had been thrown in prison. It was imperative that they release him!
Darcy heard the sound of footsteps, which came to a stop in front of him. He slowly lifted his head and found himself looking into the face of a tall, well-dressed man.
“Finally!” Darcy exclaimed, steeling himself against the painful throbbing of his muscles and head. “Please, you must tell them I am not Lockerly.”
“They say you claim to be Fitzwilliam Darcy.” The man looked at him through narrow eyes. “I am slightly familiar with who that gentleman is, but I must confess I was not aware that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was such a slovenly character as is before me.”
“You must believe that I am he!” Darcy implored him.
“Hmm…” The man continued to scrutinize Darcy, rubbing his chin as his eyes swept over him. “In order to do that, you must open your shirt and show me your right shoulder.”
Darcy shook his head in disbelief. “You want me to what?”
“Lockerly has a very prominent scar that goes from his shoulder to the centre of his chest. If you have no scar, you cannot be him.”
Darcy fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and opened it.
The man gave a wave of his hand. “You may close it now.”
Darcy looked at him with pleading eyes. “And?”
“I would have to agree with you. You are not Archibald Lockerly.”
“Heavens, I am grateful to hear that.” Darcy felt a surge of hope flood him. “You believe me.”
“Yes, but I must confess that in your current condition,” he waved his hand through the air, “you look a great deal like Lockerly and I would surmise not at all like Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“But at least you believe me.”
The man unlocked the cell door and walked in, extending his hand. “I am Edward Foster of the Thames River Police.”
Darcy reached out and took his hand. “It is good to make your acquaintance, sir. I am, truly, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Foster sat beside him. “I am of the opinion that if Lockerly was truly trying to pass himself off as Fitzwilliam Darcy, he would have done it a little differently.” His gaze swept over Darcy and his attire. “I hope you will accept my apologies for the unpleasant manner in which you have been treated and realize it was a simple mistake.”
“How is it that you could see that I am not Lockerly, but no one else here could?”
“He was being held down in Brighton, so no one here has actually seen him. I, however, have been in the man’s putrid presence a great deal. These men were basing their conviction that they had the correct man strictly from a drawing.”
“So I may go?” Darcy asked and started to stand up.
Foster reached out and stopped him. “Not quite yet.” Foster raised his shoulders as he took in a sharp breath. “Look, Mr. Darcy, I will not bother you with questions about why you look like this, but I believe your showing up here – looking as you do – was very providential.”
Darcy cocked his head at him. “How is that?”
Foster took in a deep breath. “This Lockerly is a slippery one. We had him and his ruffian band in custody, locked up, and when he was being transported to London, he was snatched out of our hands.” Foster paused and looked intently at the man next to him. “Mr. Darcy, we may need you to do something for us.”
Darcy let out a breath he had been holding. The relief of Foster’s words coupled with his curiosity had helped clear his mind immensely. He leaned towards Foster. “Exactly what do you want me to do?”
The man stood up and faced Darcy. “We would like you to impersonate Lockerly for a short while. We will spread word that he is recruiting men to make up a new crew.”
Darcy bolted to his feet and then sank down quickly as his head began to spin. “You want me to what?”
“The news of your capture… that is, Lockerly’s capture, has spread like a wildfire. At the moment, I am the only one who knows a mistake has been made.” Foster spoke, his voice barely a whisper now.
Darcy shook his head in disbelief. “This is absurd! I cannot be someone I am not!”
“Even for the good of the country? For the lives of innocents that may be lost?” Foster sat down again. “Unfortunately... or fortunately, I suppose it depends on how you look at it… in the state you are in now, you do look a good deal like Lockerly. If we could use you as bait to lure him into our net, we would be forever grateful.”
“But I am no sailor. I have some basic knowledge of sailing, but not a large vessel and definitely not out in the high seas.”
Foster let out a laugh. “You are getting ahead of yourself, my good man. We expect that Lockerly will hear that someone is claiming to be him and will make himself known. I will have two men with you at all times for your protection. They will be passing themselves off as two of your sailors.”
“You actually want me to recruit pirates?” Darcy asked incredulously.
Foster nodded.
“Definitely not! No, it is too risky,” Darcy replied, shaking his head. He looked into Foster’s eyes. “What if one of these men realizes I am not Lockerly?”
Foster let out a puff of air. “You look just like him. But in addition to that, all of his men were hung. Not one is left. He is probably hiding out somewhere, but I doubt he is anywhere near London.”
Darcy forced his mind to think. “Then how will he come to hear about me… him… another Lockerly?”
“Word travels fast around the docks and up and down the Thames and the English Channel. We will spread word around, and I can guarantee he will hear about it. If you can give me a week… no more than ten days… hopefully he will show up to confront this imposter. We will be waiting for him when he comes.”
Darcy was not convinced. “Confronting that imposter is what has me concerned, as well as rounding up a crew of disreputable men to be pirates!” Darcy let out a huff. “Both are ludicrous and could put me in a very precarious situation!”
“Calm down, Mr. Darcy. When Lockerly comes, we will be ready for him. And chances are the men who want to join you will be young lads who are only looking for adventure. You will have nothing to worry about with them.”
Darcy sat still and groaned, the shaking of his head the only movement.
“I do not know how much you have heard about Lockerly, but the man has rarely taken a life on his own. Granted, he will seize a ship and leave it burning while the crew of that ship is stranded in lifeboats, but his main goal has been to liberate its treasure and be on his way. It is true that at his hands many lives have been lost at sea when they were not rescued, but he is not a man prone to fighting or taking a life intentionally when he does not have to.” Foster paused and cradled his chin in his hand. “Yet, I have heard amazing stories about his fencing ability. More often than not, his captives surrender before any harm is inflicted.”
“I am still not convinced of this. Certainly someone else can do it.”
Foster regarded Darcy for a moment. “By the looks of you, I would guess that you have gone through some sort of adversity. Consider this a way to work your way through it while helping us out.”
Foster shook his head. “There is no one else who can do this. Pictures of Lockerly are everywhere.” He pulled out a drawing and showed it to Darcy. “You have to admit there is a resemblance.”
Darcy scowled at the likeness. “Anyone with a week’s worth of beard and unkempt attire would suffice.”
“No, only you will do.”
Darcy stood up and walked over to the door again and grasped the bars. “Let me go home and think about this.”
Foster cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Darcy, you will need to remain here another day. We have to keep up the illusion of Lockerly being in custody.” Foster slapped Darcy on the back. “Besides, I would surmise that you would not return home unless you had cleaned yourself up. Can I assume that you have not been staying at Pemberley or your home here in this condition?” He said this as more of a statement than a question.
Darcy groaned.
“In addition, I do not think you would wish for news of your imprisonment and your destitute state to reach your family. I fear if I release you as Fitzwilliam Darcy, there would be no way to prevent that.”
Darcy abruptly turned around. “How dare you!”
Foster shook his head. “It would not be by my doing, Mr. Darcy. That would be what would happen if you left this place as Mr. Darcy. But…” Foster stood up and stepped to Darcy’s side. “If you leave this place with me as Lockerly, no one would need to know.”
Darcy looked down and covered his head with his hands. “If that is how it is to be, then so be it.”
“Excellent! I need to work on the details of how we are going to play this out, but I will get back to you on the morrow. In the meantime, do not mention to anyone here about being Fitzwilliam Darcy. I do not want word of this to get around.”
Darcy let out a sigh. “Just make sure no one hangs me while you are gone.”
“You have my word!” Foster said with a laugh.
“Good! And Foster?”
“Yes?”
“May I please have something to eat?”
*~*~*
Throughout the day, men came by the cell and peered in, making spiteful and disparaging remarks. With each accusation, Darcy felt awash with contempt – at them and himself. He was only able to remain silent against his tormentors because he knew who he was. He was at least thankful that after a good night’s sleep and meal, his head was much clearer than it had been in quite some time.
As he considered Foster’s proposition, he thought how this would truly be the only way to prevent news of his being thrown in gaol from being bandied about London and amongst his friends and family.
He raked his fingers through his hair and shuddered as he wondered what had become of him! He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, after all – meticulous, proper, esteemed… He had always considered himself fully capable of handling any situation. Yet he had been completely powerless in securing the hand of the one woman he truly loved and then in conquering the hopelessness and despair that had been wrought in him because of that.
He sat up erect and considered how this obligation might help take his mind off Elizabeth Bennet. That day she had refused his offer of marriage, he stormed out greatly incensed at her. But throughout the night, as he had recollected the words she had lashed out at him and then penned the letter to her, he had realized she had not spoken flippantly or even without basis.
Her misunderstanding of George Wickham’s character was not her fault, and he could readily see how that scoundrel had deceived her about both their characters. He had grown up with George Wickham, but that young man had become a thorn in his flesh. And yet it was her accusation that he had unduly interfered with his friend Charles Bingley and her sister Jane that made him realize how wrong he had been.
He thought back to the words he had spoken that night and put his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes. How could he have been so presumptuous in stating to her – in an offer of marriage – that her family was unsuitable and so far beneath him? He let out a groan as he realized he was now more upset with himself for his behaviour than he was with Elizabeth for refusing him.
Yes, he would agree to impersonate this infamous pirate Lockerly despite abhorring all manner of disguise. But once all was behind him, or perhaps as he was in the midst of it, he would make every effort to address those traits she had claimed were so offensive to her. He vowed to improve his person, even though he would likely never see her again.
Chapter 3
Longbourn
Elizabeth Bennet linked an arm through Jane’s, and the two sisters walked down the stairs. The sun greeted them warmly, a welcome reprieve from the dreary cold and rain that had plagued them over the past month. Elizabeth reached up on the tip of her toes to touch a dust-filled ray of sunlight with her free hand. She wiggled her fingers, sending the tiny motes whirling, and causing both sisters to laugh.
As they took the remaining steps downward, Elizabeth looked at Jane and smiled. It was good to see her laugh again.
The improvement of the weather this morning seemed to have improved both girls’ dispositions. Several months ago, Jane’s joy had been shattered after a futile attempt to see Mr. Bingley during her stay in London. She had visited with his sisters, and they had returned the courtesy with a call to her at her aunt’s home near Cheapside, but their brother had never made an effort to see her.
Elizabeth was concerned. She and she alone knew the truth about why Mr. Bingley had not visited Jane. It had been Mr. Darcy’s influence that had tempered Mr. Bingley’s affections for her, and the conspiracy – of sorts – between him and Miss Bingley not to divulge Jane’s presence in town to him.
Since then she had made every effort to help keep Jane’s mind off Mr. Bingley, encouraging her in any way she could. But Elizabeth was facing an inner battle of her own. She found herself repeatedly going over Mr. Darcy’s words in his unexpected offer of marriage and futilely tried to recall the words she had angrily lashed back at him in her refusal.
The letter Mr. Darcy had written to her addressed several of the accusations she had made against him. Sometimes in the quiet of the night, alone in her room, she would pull out the letter to read it again. It did not give her much comfort; in fact, it often produced a myriad of conflicting feelings: anger, regret, despair, and even an unwelcomed sense of honour at the thought of being singled out by such a man. If only she could put Mr. Darcy’s proposal out of her mind as easily as she had the one made by Mr. Collins.
At the mere thought of their cousin, she shuddered.
“Are you unwell, Lizzy?” Jane asked with a quick glance.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Elizabeth stopped. She bit her lip and wondered whether she should tell Jane the truth. Jane knew about Mr. Darcy’s proposal and how her sister had refused him, while no one else in her family had that knowledge. Her mother would be displeased beyond measure if she knew Elizabeth had turned down a man of such great fortune. But Elizabeth had never told Jane that Mr. Darcy had been partly responsible for keeping Mr. Bingley from seeing her by not divulging to him her presence in town.
“I am well, Jane,” she answered reassuringly. She let out a more light-hearted sigh. “I am merely contemplating my trip with the Gardiners to the Lake District.”
“And you shall have a wonderful time! I enjoyed it immensely when they took me!”
Jane and Elizabeth came into the dining room, finding both their parents there. The sunny morning had not had a positive effect on their mother, however, as she greeted them with, “Oh, my head is pounding so!”
“Good morning, Mama. Good morning, Papa!” Elizabeth walked around and gave her mother and father kisses, followed by Jane doing the same. The two eldest Bennet daughters sat down at the table.
“It is a beautiful day,” Elizabeth said. “I hope it is not too terribly muddy out. I long for a good walk!”
Her father smiled; however, he did not seem as cheerful as he normally did in the morning. “I daresay, Elizabeth, that you will take a walk toda
y whether it is muddy outside or not! You are the adventurous one, are you not?” He did not wait for an answer, but picked up some letters that were folded up next to his plate.
Elizabeth recollected the day she had walked through the mud to visit a sick Jane at Netherfield and made no response. She glanced at Jane, who was looking down into her cup as she poured herself some tea. She knew Jane was thinking about it, as well.
Wishing to change the subject, Elizabeth motioned to the letters. “And what news have you, Papa? Anything important?”
“Yes, but prepare yourself for some bad news.”
“Bad news?” both sisters asked.
Mrs. Bennet was quite agitated. “Why must letters always contain such vexing news? I despise getting a letter! People have no compassion for my nerves!”
“What is it, Papa?” Elizabeth asked, her brows narrowing in concern.
“One is a letter from my sister. Viola, as you know, lives with her family on St. Mary’s in the Isles of Scilly. It has been many years since we have seen them. And the other is a letter from the Gardiners.”
“Our Aunt Gardiner has written?” Elizabeth’s face lit up. “What has she to say? Does she mention our trip to the Lake District?”
“I cannot wait to see her children again!” Jane interjected. “I so enjoyed them when I was in London.”
“But you said there was bad news! Tell us, Father!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Well, Lizzy,” her father said. “I shall leave it to you to read.”
He handed the letter to Elizabeth, and she began to read it aloud.
Fondest greetings to all my family,
I hope you are all well. I know that we have been planning with much anticipation a trip to the Lake District with Elizabeth, but something has arisen, and we are now not able to go. We had hoped that perhaps a shorter trip to Derbyshire would be possible, but now, that is also out of the question. We are so disappointed, but know that the greatest disappointment must be felt by Elizabeth (and our children, as well, who were so looking forward to seeing Jane again). We promise to make an effort to go next summer. We shall count down the days! I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us.