Chasing Elizabeth
Page 18
“Sir William is more than happy to show off the creature — presumptuously named Trophonius, I might add. I am certain he would welcome your inspection, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps you would like to accompany us. I have arranged to meet them at their inn on Monday.”
“Where are they staying?” Darcy held his breath, trying to relax his fingers when he felt them grip the arms of his chair.
Mr. Bennet bunched his cheeks. “I cannot recall. It was not a name I recognized, though I recall his assurance that it is not a difficult place to find, being on the road to Epsom.”
Drat!
“I will consult my schedule,” Darcy said noncommittally, disappointed Mr. Bennet had not remembered the details he needed but grateful for his forthrightness. Men who had nothing to hide often revealed what Darcy needed to know without any prompting from him, but he wondered how Sir William would react if he found out how readily his neighbor revealed his whereabouts.
All Darcy had to do was inquire at the inns along the road to Epsom, and he would find Sir William. It should not be difficult, as proud as he was of touting his title and his prized horse.
“Good. Then I expect to hear from you soon. The invitation to dine stands, Mr. Darcy. I ought to have known that a gentleman as busy as yourself would have other obligations, but I do hope you will choose to join me and Lizzy before too long.” He rose.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet.” Darcy stood to see the gentleman out before he had to evade another invitation. His resolve was wearing thin.
Chapter 22
Darcy had only just caught his breath and calmed his mind when Richard burst into his study. Hoisting the bottle of brandy Darcy had asked the butler to bring up, he said, “I take it we are celebrating?”
That had been the idea, but that was before Mr. Bennet had called.
Richard jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “Was that your informant? The older gentleman? He was leaving as I came in. He is the perfect type to avoid suspicion — scholarly and countrified. Nobody would suspect him of anything. He is perfect, and you, cousin, are brilliant.”
Darcy shook his head. He did not wish to involve Mr. Bennet in his activities, nor did he wish to mislead his cousin. “To the contrary.”
“You deny brilliance? What is wrong with you, Darcy? I have never known you to refuse a compliment when it has been earned.”
“That is not it at all—”
Richard interrupted. “Then let us not mince words about it. It is due in large part to your diligence that we have a chance at capturing our foe. Now, tell me what you and your secret informant have discovered. I know you are onto something, or else you would not have sent for me to come here.”
Typical Richard. The man insisted Darcy speak but never shut up long enough to let him.
“Are you done?” Darcy asked drolly as he sauntered over to his safe.
Richard grinned. “I am all ears.”
Darcy handed the satchel to him. “Take this with you. It is proof The Four Horsemen have dealings with Sir William. Given the exorbitant amount their deposits add to, I believe you were right to suspect that Sir William is at the center of their big plan.”
“And I suppose you know where he is?”
“At an inn on the road to Epsom.”
“There are a great number of inns there. Do you know which one?”
Darcy did not, and he hated how his mind immediately turned to the quickest way to find out. Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth.
Richard raised his eyebrows. “No matter. I know you will find out. Was that another morsel from your informant?”
Darcy glared at Richard.
He raised his hands. “Forget I said anything, and I will try to forget whom I saw leaving here and his connection to you. Tell me nothing more about your sources. You can trust that my lips are sealed.”
“Impossible. But there is more I must tell you. It is the reason Sir William hired Mr. Robson.”
Richard leaned forward in his chair.
Darcy continued, “Sir William has acquired a racehorse.”
“Now, that is interesting. Why would he invest in a racehorse when he has a promising breeding farm going?”
“He bought Trophonius.”
Richard’s jaw dropped. “Black Trophonius? Winner of the 2000 Guineas and the Newmarket Stakes?”
“The very one.”
Rubbing his chin with a long whistle, Richard said, “A three-year-old in his first racing season in the midst of a winning streak. Sir William must have paid a fortune. The timing is highly suspect. Trophonius is the favorite to win the Derby this coming Thursday. His odds are three to one.”
“Aside from the investment, there are other obstacles which add to the mystery. The Derby is five days away. The Lucases know nothing about racing horses, and they are new to The Jockey Club’s rules and regulations.”
“Do you think they will be allowed to race? It seems impossible.”
“And yet, they are staying at an inn on the way to the racetrack. I suspect their reasons for purchasing a horse practically guaranteed to win the Derby are strong enough, they would not hesitate to pay the club whatever price the officials named to allow them to participate.”
Richard’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. “You do not think—?”
Darcy nodded somberly. It had been his first suspicion as soon as Mr. Bennet had told him the name of Sir William’s horse. As audacious as his suspicion seemed in his mind, he could not fully voice it aloud. “We cannot afford to overlook the possibility, however outlandish it seems.”
Richard remarked, “When have The Four Horsemen ever been discreet?”
Rising from his chair, his posture rigid and alert, Richard added, “If you are right about this, Darcy — and I fear you are — I must insist you get to the bottom of this by any means necessary. We cannot afford a treason of this magnitude—” he stopped, finishing his sentence with a groan. “This is worse than I thought it would be. This is … this is anarchy.”
Watching Richard draw the same conclusions he had minutes before impressed upon Darcy the gravity of the situation. This was not the stuff of a melodramatic novel. This was real. And it was up to him to prevent it.
Richard walked over to the door. His took a deep, shaky breath. “We have five days. We cannot fail. Use your informant to get close to Sir William. Find out where he is staying. Do not let him out of your sight until we can formulate a plan.”
He left, the bottle of brandy unopened and forgotten.
Elizabeth waited for her father in the parlor facing the street’s corner, the book in her hand failing to hold her attention at the sound of every approaching carriage or footstep on the other side of the glass.
Where had Papa gone? He had left suddenly, only saying he had a call to make before he disappeared and offering no explanation or hints.
She tried to shrug off his whereabouts, but too much time spent in solitude with an overly active imagination conjured up a bevy of possibilities. He had gone to purchase tickets to the theater. He had finally accepted an invitation from one of his university friends to call. He had a business matter to attend to and was taking advantage of their time in town to see to it. Or, more likely, he had heard of a new bookseller and wished to explore the shop at his leisure.
By the time a hackney carriage stopped in front of the hotel, Elizabeth expected to see her father carrying a stack of books in his arms. But he did not. He was smiling, however, so whatever he had done must have brought him some satisfaction.
Closing her book, Elizabeth met him in the entrance hall.
“There you are,” he said, as if she had been the one wandering about London.
Elizabeth smiled. “Did you not expect me to be here?”
Papa chuckled. “It could not have been easy for you to stay behind while I went out, and now that my business has been seen to, I will not exclude you from any other outings.”
“What business was that?” Elizabeth asked demurely.
“Between gentlemen?” She was more intrigued than ever. She knew he could not mean Mr. Darcy, but he was the first gentleman she called to mind. And, she had to admit, her father was not the only one she had been looking for through the parlor window.
What was it she felt for the gentleman? She hesitated to name it mere attraction. It felt more intense than anything she had felt before, and it grew in intensity with each passing day. Each passing hour. Even in his absence. Was that love? Could she love a man she had known for such a short time? What did she really know about Mr. Darcy?
There had been his description of Pemberley. His love for Pemberley was genuine, of that she was certain. Could he love her enough to think of her at his most treasured home?
Therein lay another problem. Elizabeth had wanted adventure so badly — as badly as Mr. Darcy wanted to return to Pemberley — she did not realize until her mother attempted to make her feel guilty for not securing a proposal from Mr. Darcy that she would not have minded receiving a proposal from him. She had not realized how deeply she had come to … esteem … respect … care for … love … the man who had brought adventure into her life. But which did she love more: the promise of excitement or the man? How could she be sure? And what if she did love Mr. Darcy only to find out he did not love her in return? After all, as her mother so plainly and repeatedly pointed out, he had gone.
Papa removed his pipe from his pocket, polishing the ivory bowl and tapping it against his palm. “Now, I am free to spend the day as you please. What would you most like to do? I am a servant to your whim,” he said with a gallant bow of his head.
So lost in her own thoughts had Elizabeth been, she only then realized he had avoided answering her question. Why did he wish to hide the identity of the gentleman he called on from her? Was it worth pursuing the topic when she kept her thoughts of Mr. Darcy to herself? Hardly. Elizabeth let go of her curiosity with a chuckle, determined to give her dear papa her full attention. “You are in high spirits, and if you do not wish to tell me why, then I am content to enjoy your happy mood and attentiveness.”
Papa bowed his head repentantly. “I know I have not been so attentive as a good father ought to be. I am poor company compared to Jane or the Gardiners. I have not given you a proper season as you deserve—”
Elizabeth stopped him. “That was not what I meant to imply at all, Papa. I do not want to dwell on the past. It will only ruin today and any chance of a glorious tomorrow.”
Folding her hands inside his, he said, “Allow me to do this one thing for you and ease the guilt on my old heart.” His eyes misted, and his voice trembled. Clearing his throat and patting her hands, he said, “So, what is it to be? Do you wish to go to the theater tonight? Perhaps we might take a leisurely stroll down Bond Street? I hear the fashionable set like to eat ices at a place called Gunther’s. We could try that.”
Her father’s willingness to please her brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.
“I would love to do all of that, but do you know what would please me the most?”
He did not guess, so she continued, “I should very much like to walk with you to Hatchards. I asked the proprietor of this hotel, and he informed me that the bookshop is a comfortable distance to walk. Then, if we require nourishment for the return here, I should very much like to visit one of the chocolate shops nearby.” She would have crammed her days with one activity after another, but she did not wish to overwhelm her father. Small steps.
“That sounds delightful. I will wait here while you fetch your pelisse.”
Elizabeth wasted no time. Hastening upstairs, she tied the ribbon of her bonnet as she returned to her father.
He frowned when she drew near. “Where is your brooch? I had noticed you did not wear it yesterday, but I thought you did not want to risk losing it during our travels. It is odd to see you without it.”
Elizabeth’s pulse raced. She did not wish to explain how her brooch came to be lost, for then she would have to speak of Mr. Darcy, and she did not trust herself not to betray her sentiments regarding the gentleman to her father.
“I must have left it behind in all the excitement. We did leave in a hurry,” she said vaguely. It had certainly been exciting when she had left her brooch behind. Every night when she closed her eyes, she relived the moment. She felt Mr. Darcy’s closeness, the crispness of the breeze wisping between them, the magic of the moonlight bathing them in its glow… It was no wonder she had forgotten all about her brooch until the next day.
Her father’s forehead wrinkled as he considered her explanation, but then, he shrugged and held his arm out for her. “Maybe we will make our way to Piccadilly. We can find you another one.”
Elizabeth would not dream of replacing her treasure, but she smiled and took his proffered arm, content to spend the afternoon perusing bookshelves and glancing out of the window glass on the chance Mr. Darcy might walk past.
Chapter 23
Darcy did his best to stay away from the Stratford Hotel. He and Oakley crossed the river, riding South along the road to Epsom, asking for Sir William, John Lucas, George Lucas, and even Trophonius at every stable and inn along the way … with no success.
Undaunted, he tried again the next day, but as the afternoon sped by with no sign of Sir William, Darcy had to admit defeat. The gentleman and his racehorse had vanished.
There was no way around it. Darcy would have to ask Mr. Bennet.
Even if he had found Sir William on his own, Darcy would have been hard-pressed to explain his appearance without mentioning the Bennets. He could not afford to arouse alarm this close to the Derby, which was now only four days away, lest The Four Horsemen change their plans and escape capture yet again.
He had no other choice.
Knowing the desire of his heart was to see Elizabeth, Darcy took pains to ensure his motive for accepting Mr. Bennet’s invitation to dine with them was not entirely selfish.
And so it was with eager footsteps and cautious, watchful eyes that he made his way to Oxford Street at the appointed hour.
The Stratford Hotel was a fine establishment in a respectable neighborhood not far from his own residence. The public dining room, furnished with several tables in which guests could converse and enjoy a meal, hummed with polite chatter when he entered the hall and the houseman took his coat, hat, and gloves.
He followed the man to a separate parlor where a table encumbered with flickering candles, crystalline wine glasses, gold-rimmed porcelain plates, and polished silver sat in the soft glow of the fireplace.
Mr. Bennet stood to meet him, and Darcy did his best to give the gentleman the attention his due. But it was difficult to look at anyone other than Elizabeth when she was in the room. She looked so lovely with her mouth open and her eyes wide, as if his presence was a most welcome surprise. Her smile reached her eyes, and Darcy’s heart fluttered in his chest.
“How good of you to join us, Mr. Darcy. This is a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Bennet said, leading him to the table where only two chairs were nestled cozily around the table. Mr. Bennet called for another to be brought.
“How did you know we were here?” Elizabeth asked. Clearly, she did not know her father had called at Darcy House the day before.
Mr. Bennet blushed, preoccupying himself with the even placement of the three chairs around the table.
Under the circumstances, Darcy felt it best for the gentleman to respond.
With a sheepish grin, Mr. Bennet said, “A happy coincidence helped us cross paths, and I saw fit to invite Mr. Darcy to dine with us — an invitation I am pleased he has graciously accepted.”
Darcy was unsure what to make of the gentleman’s secrecy, but he had enough secrets of his own to keep without bearing the burden of Mr. Bennet’s. He would stay out of it as much as he could.
“Is the rest of your family in good health?” Darcy
asked, aware of the need to include Mr. Bennet in his conversation.
“They are, I thank you for asking. You will be pleased to know that Mr. Bingley and his household are fully recovered from their illness. They had called a couple of times before we departed for town, and I dare say he, at least, has called once more since. Mrs. Bennet could not be happier.”
Darcy could easily imagine so, especially when Mr. Bennet had already assured him of Mrs. Bennet’s felicity during his call at Darcy House. However, Darcy had hoped Miss Bennet would be more pleased to receive Bingley’s attentions than her mother. A week ago, Darcy would not have concerned himself in his friend’s affairs, but that was before he understood the power of a young lady over a man’s heart. He would find out for Bingley’s sake. “And Miss Bennet? Is she as happy to receive his calls?”
It was a forward question he knew, but while Bingley’s eye had led him to believe himself in love many times before, he had never truly fallen in love. His was a tender heart, easily hurt if the one lady to win his love did not wholly return his fondness.
Elizabeth replied, “You wish to discern my sister’s sincerity in receiving Mr. Bingley’s attentions?”
“I will own that is my intention. I saw firsthand how important your sister’s welfare is to you. That which affects her happiness, affects you. I would do no less for Bingley. He is one of my dearest friends.”
“Fair enough,” said Mr. Bennet, looking to his daughter with a nod for her to expound on the subject.
“I cannot find fault with you protecting Mr. Bingley as I do Jane. She is often misunderstood because she is so shy. The more she feels, the less she says.”
Hearing an explanation Darcy had uttered many times about his own sister eased his concerns. Miss Bennet was not indifferent. She was shy.
Elizabeth continued, “Jane hated falling ill at Netherfield. She worried about what you and Mr. Bingley’s sisters would think of her. She could not bear to suffer criticism or be accused of using artful designs against him when she is too sincere and kind to act deceitfully. It was why she insisted on departing when we did.” She clasped her hands and looked down at them. “And I will admit, Mr. Darcy, that while I find Mr. Bingley’s character to be everything agreeable, I held some doubts about his constancy. I feared his fancy fickle. Suffice it to say, I was pleased to have him prove me wrong when he braved his sisters’ disapproval and called shortly after we had quit Netherfield.”