by Kay Mares
“It is my belief we would only be absent a couple of weeks then we would return. I suggest we leave the children here at Pemberley. The nanny and nurse have all well in hand. Once my business is completed, we may leave London sooner if that is your desire.” Darcy rolls the small ball he keeps on his desk, but his movement catches the attention of David.
“Ba? Papa?” David outstretches his hands to his father.
Darcy gives an indulgent smile as he hands the ball to the beaming toddler. Bennet watches the exchange closely, the building blocks forgotten. The stare he gives to his father is full of reproach, but Elizabeth chuckles as Darcy opens another drawer, producing a second ball which he then gives to Bennet. A minor battle averted.
“You plan for every possible outcome, do you not, My Husband?”
“Indeed. What say you to a short journey to Town?” Darcy wiggles his brows and smiles rakishly at his wife.
“How can I refuse a man such as you?” Lizzy responds saucily.
“You cannot. Remember last night?” The small upturn to his mouth is present. It was this lopsided grin which Elizabeth found endearing as she came to know more of Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy! You are naughty. Do not say such, in front of the children no less!” Elizabeth’s blushes red and hot. She narrows her eyes at her laughing and smug spouse.
Orders are given, and servants are summoned to make ready for a trip to London. Elizabeth will miss her children as will Darcy, but she does anticipate the time alone with her glorious husband. The morning of their departure has two of the Darcy carriages loaded with trunks and other personal effects. Barnabas and Ada will travel in the smaller coach along with a few maids leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to travel alone in the first carriage. Tempest will be ponied along too as Darcy rarely leaves without taking his stallion with him. Fast, furious rides will be taken, even when in London.
From a distance and hidden in the leafy trees, a pair of eyes watches the activity occurring in the front drive of Pemberley. The owner of those crafty eyes did not know Darcy planned a trip, but he will watch and follow the Darcy carriages at a distance to see where the haughty Master of Pemberley is going. He doubts he will have a chance to strike during the trip as many footmen are accompanying the carriages. Darcy’s drivers are armed and know how to use pistols and long guns effectively. Darcy insisted on the training after he and his cousin Henry were ambushed some years ago during a return trip to London from Kent. Darcy rarely is unprepared for an emergency and more frustrating is Darcy’s ability to react quickly when a crisis arises.
A muttered curse and a cigarette flung to the ground speak to the man’s vexation. “Damn Darcy, damn him and his fortune. Damn him and his seeming good luck. It will not last forever; I will see it does not.”
These same eyes had watched only a few weeks ago when Mrs. Darcy’s horse fell after breaking its leg. The man did not wish for Mrs. Darcy to know injury or pain as he actually likes Mrs. Darcy and admires her. His satisfaction had come from watching the angst Darcy went through as he assured himself his wife was not seriously injured. No, he would not wish ill upon Mrs. Darcy.
“Too bad that blasted black stallion of his had not fallen and broken both of their necks. Would have made things much easier for me, for all of us.” The man grinds the cigarette butt into the dirt with his boot heel then melts back farther into the trees where his horse waits. He will follow, watch and wait.
Chapter 4
The Darcys arrive in London without incident and are welcomed warmly by the Darcy House staff. Mrs. Ball hopes the children will be arriving as well, but she knows disappointment when it is revealed the children remain at Pemberley. Cards soon arrive with invitations to dinners and parties from those who remain in London in spite of the increasing summer heat. Jonesy and Kitty are already in Town much to the delight of Darcy and Lizzy. Mrs. Cleese, the former Miss Bingley, is also in Town so Elizabeth will have some female company to occupy her when Darcy meets with Mr. Cullip.
Mrs. Cleese had made an unfortunate match to an older man who had stripped her of her sizable dowry, treated her poorly, then when he passed, he left her a small amount of money along with a modest cabin. Mr. Cleese’s children from a prior marriage took pity on Caroline and added to her funds but then ceased any contact with her. For Caroline, the arrangement suited her. She did not wish to be reminded of the foolishness she practiced, and in the end, because Jane and Lizzy have been such loyal supporters and friends, Caroline developed a true friendship with the former Bennet sisters. Now Caroline is a welcomed guest in Mrs. Darcy’s homes or Mrs. Bingley’s homes.
While Darcy and Jonesy meet with Mr. Cullip, Jonesy being included because he was summoned as well, Elizabeth entertains Caroline and Kitty in one of the salons at Darcy house. A breeze shuffles the curtains and keeps the worst of the heat at bay and Mrs. Ball delivered some lemonade to the room. The ladies are cool and comfortable.
Kitty speaks first. “Caroline, I must thank you once again for your kind words and understanding when Jonesy and I lost our child. I understand how difficult it must have been for you to be reminded of your loss.” Kitty squeezes Caroline’s hand.
Caroline had birthed a boy during her short marriage, who was named John but the child perished at one year of age due to a wicked illness with a high spiking fever. Caroline was devastated, but again her friends rallied around her. “The loss of John will always be with me but as each year passes the pain recedes further. I trust, your daughters have brought you joy?”
“Yes, both have. Jonesy is quite the doting father over his two precious girls. They look at him with their big luminous eyes, and he simply melts.”
Caroline’s smiles genuinely. “I have noted Charles and Darcy to be quite taken with their offspring as well. It is unusual for men to show such an interest.”
“I think it is a ready excuse for them to act like children themselves. They may play with the toys and act silly without raising any suspicion. Fitzwilliam once told me that men are like children only with bigger toys.” Elizabeth and the others snicker. On more than one occasion, Darcy, Bingley, and Jonesy have all been caught playing with the children’s toys. “Did you both enjoy the performance last night? Fitzwilliam told me the smaller production would be most satisfying as the musicians play pieces not usually heard.” Elizabeth sips from her glass.
“I did not know much about the Gregorian Chants until last night. So much history to learn. One can never know it all.” Kitty remarks.
“I was subjected to a lecture about chants early this morning over breakfast.” Lizzy confides. She then deepens her voice as she repeats some of the facts Darcy expounded upon. “The Gregorian Chants more than likely were named such to honor Pope Gregory II, but later lore gave authorship to Gregory the Great. Charlemagne, who once held the title of Holy Roman Emperor, spread the chants throughout his empire. The chants themselves are monophony, meaning a single line melody with a flexible rhythm. Latin words are sung to it with male singers.” Lizzy laughs as she reveals she suffered a glower when she asked Darcy if females would be allowed to sing the chant.
“Oh my, I thought Darcy mellowed, Lizzy?” Kitty asks with a smirk.
“He has. He will be vexed with me for sharing, but he then proceeded to try to sing some of the chants himself all the while mugging and puckering. He quickly became all aloof and stern once the staff returned to the room with the rest of the breakfast offerings.” More giggles occur. After Caroline and Kitty return to their homes, Lizzy awaits Darcy in the library. She selected a book of poetry and sat to read it when she heard his footfalls in the hallway. Closing the book and laying it on the table, she goes in search of her husband.
“Is your work completed?” She asks as she watches him hand off a satchel of papers to be stowed in his study.
“Almost. Most of the details have been finalized so tomorrow’s meeting should be over quickly. Will you accompany me to our chambers?” Darcy holds his arm out for Elizabeth. Once in their s
hared chambers, he speaks again. “I miss Pemberley. Darcy House is a home as much as it can be but there is still a certain amount of propriety which must be adhered to. I long to kick off my boots and shed my coats but I fear the staff would suffer apoplexy to see me so casual. Then one never knows who may call once he has heard we are in residence.” Darcy snorts his frustration.
“Remember the shocked looks and flushes when the staff first realized you shared my sleeping quarters?” Darcy grins his lopsided grin when he notes the flush to Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I think they are quite over the shock now, My Dear. No need to fret.” Elizabeth smiles and ducks her head. “Most husbands wish for a genteel lady during the day and a wanton wife at night,” Darcy concludes.
“Mr. Darcy, you say some provocative things. To think you once told me that you were so shy.” Elizabeth teases him.
“I am, I still become taciturn and cold in large groups. Only at Pemberley can I truly relax but with you, I have come to let more of my reticence fade. Why at the formal dinner the other night, I spoke with three other gentlemen I had not met prior. I even can recall their names. I am practicing, Lizzy.” Darcy states with pomp.
That night at the mealtime, Elizabeth sees that Darcy is not as easy as he would be if they were at Pemberley. Even though they are not hosting anyone tonight, Darcy feels obligated to maintain strict manners and decorum. But the effort costs him as it always does and a trace amount of broodiness enters his being. After watching him twirl his signet ring around his finger, another sure sign of agitation, Elizabeth suggests he take a ride on Tempest before the sun sets. Darcy largely grins as he leaves. What Elizabeth does not know is that on impulse, Darcy decides to take a stroll down the alleyway behind the carriage house. A set of eyes maliciously glare as they mark Darcy’s movements.
Once Darcy is a safe distance away from the carriage house, three burly men descend upon him. Caught unaware, Darcy does not have time to defend himself. The blows come swift and relentless. Next, a burlap sack goes over his head as the punches continue. Darcy falls over with a crash, and the punches cease to be replaced by vicious kicks. He is aware of being lifted up and dumped into a cart; then he knows he is being hauled away to somewhere. A hand finds his throat and tightens around it, cutting off enough air so Darcy cannot cry out but is allowed to breathe. No one sees the encounter and Elizabeth remains unaware her husband has been abducted.
Chapter 5
The frightening journey lasts for an hour or more. Darcy perceives that the wagon turned many times and with his head covered, he quickly becomes disoriented. The wagon lurches to a stop then hands roughly grab him once more. He is made to stand with the sack still on his head while someone puts a tight choke hold on him. His waistcoat and vest are stripped from him; his cravat ripped harshly from his neck so that it leaves burns on the skin, and his pockets are relieved of their contents. A cruel shove lands him on the ground where once more kicks and punches rain down on his bruised body.
“Check him.” One of the men harshly grates as he draws heavy breaths. The men expended much energy battering Darcy. As another man bends over and pulls the sack off of Darcy’s face, Darcy holds his breath. He hopes they will believe him dead. He knows he will be if they continue beating him much longer.
“He is not breathing. He’s done.” The man who leaned over Darcy states flatly.
A fourth man who had not participated in the attack speaks. “Make sure he’s dead. I don’t want this messed up like before. This incident needs to look like a robbery with an unfortunate outcome for Mr. Darcy. There can be no mistakes.” The man growls. Darcy thinks he recognizes the voice, but he dares not open his eyes or betray himself, so he draws shallow breaths and concentrates on lying still.
“We can just shoot him and be done with it.” Another man suggests. The man with the familiar voice speaks once more.
“No you fools. We must avoid drawing attention to ourselves. As it is, we do not know if anyone took notice of our wagon. It must look like a simple robbery. The constable will pin the deed on some unfortunate soul to satisfy the family, and we will escape suspicion.”
The first man gives a swift and brutal kick to Darcy’s ribs and nods as he hears a slight cracking noise. In spite of the pain, Darcy uses all of his forbearance not to cry out or move. “He’s dead. No one could lay there like that when his ribs are kicked in. He must have died when you held onto his neck. You strangled him.” Gruff laughter sounds from the burly men. “What now?”
“Leave him. Let someone find him and report the crime then. Here’s your coin, go have a drink after you clean yourselves up.” The familiar voice orders. Then the voice sneers, “You boys have some blood on yourselves.” Darcy hears the man’s horse gallop off and he hears the other three climb back into the wagon then he hears it drive off. For many moments, he stays down as numerous aches and pains make themselves known. Darcy tastes his blood in his mouth, and he grimaces as he takes a deeper breath. The last kick has broken a rib or two. After he feels certain the men have left, Darcy knows he needs to seek shelter somewhere in case they return.
Sitting up took an inordinate amount of time, and his head swam. His blurred vision took a moment to clear and then he makes out the outline of a large building. As he peers into the darkness farther and the building comes into focus, Darcy almost laughs. The building belongs to Mr. Gardiner, Elizabeth’s uncle. Darcy fumbles in his pocket, hoping the men have not taken everything.
“Keys, keys, keys.” He mutters over and over as trembling fingers reach deeper into his breeches’ pocket. Finally, he finds them, and he whispers a silent prayer of thanksgiving. With great effort, he lurches to his feet; sways then steadies himself. A few years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of relations in trade, now Mr. Gardiner is family as well as a business partner. The irony does not escape him.
Darcy runs a hand over his face and feels his swollen lips and eyelids. “I must look a mess.” He mutters.
He staggers around the building to one of the doors then places the key in the lock. A satisfying click announces that he has unlocked the door. Once inside, he swings the door closed and locks it. Darcy notes the grimy windows, and on the off chance the men return and decide he has sought shelter in the warehouse, Darcy decides to avoid the windows. Spotting a smooth area behind a stack of raw wool, Darcy shuffles over there and pulls a small amount of wool down to fashion a softer place to recline upon. If he tries to return home tonight in the dark, he runs the risk of coming into contact with his attackers or some other rogues. Daylight will offer some protection, and by then his family will be looking for him. He hates the thought of the worry and suffering Elizabeth will endure, but he knows he cannot physically make the walk tonight.
As Darcy settles on the makeshift patch of wool, he first thanks God that he has survived the brutal attack. Then he tries to figure out who the familiar voice belongs to. Finding no success, he ponders what the men wanted to gain by attacking him. A simple mugging was not the answer as evidenced by the conversation Darcy overheard. Granted, they had relieved him of his money clip and his watch and fob. Odd, he still has his signet ring on.
“Too much of a possibility of being found out if the ring was in their possession.” Darcy reasons out loud. “The money clip will be easy enough to pawn or trade, and the money naturally will be spent.”
Darcy snickers a little even though he is in great pain. He will not miss the watch and fob. The watch kept time poorly and he could not rely on it. Jonesy had gifted him the watch some Christmas long ago, and Darcy did not wish to offend Jonesy by not carrying the watch. Now he has an excuse about why he no longer possesses it. The watch is of high quality, but for whatever reason, it did not keep time. Jonesy always seemed more than casually interested in knowing if Darcy kept the watch with him, now as Darcy thinks about it, he feels that Jonesy gave him the malfunctioning watch as a prank.
“Must have been in retaliation for all of the roosters I turned loose in his backyard at
his London townhome. The local constable was not at all pleased with the complaints he received early in the morning when all ten of those roosters started crowing.” Darcy stiffly shifts as he speaks into the darkness once more. “Jonesy swore he would even the score after the cross constable visited him.” Darcy sighs and decides he must be losing his mind to be talking to himself like this. “Using your own humor to comfort yourself, eh Darcy?” Darcy’s eyes drift shut, and he falls into a deep sleep.
Hours later, Darcy is awake and notes a pale light is starting to creep into the warehouse. Dawn is breaking. Slowly he begins to move cramped muscles. He will go outside while most are still abed and he will seek help from Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. He will be safe there, and Elizabeth will learn of his misfortune quickly. Plus he will not have to walk so far thus avoiding other undesirable people during his walk. The pain in his side from his broken ribs is intense, and he curses from the effort of standing. He makes his way to the outside and locks the door behind him. He marks his scattered garments left from the night before and thinks it best to leave them.
A dark, humorless chuckle escapes, Barnabas would fume if he saw the condition of these clothes. Darcy gains his bearings and starts in the direction of Cheapside and the home of the Gardiners. Once along the way, he happens upon one man who looks at him questionably. The man addresses him, and Darcy responds. “Too much ale and a brawl. I ended up on the short end of the stick.” The American phrase works. The man nods knowingly and does not question Darcy further.
By the time Darcy arrives at the Gardiners’, the sun is bright, and the heat is building. Darcy leans into the doorframe as he rings the bell. Sweat glistens on his face, his body screams for rest, and he is exceedingly thirsty. The maid who answers the door cries out in fright and Darcy literally falls into the foyer.