by Jennifer Joy
“I want to be done with The Four Horsemen as much as you do, but I cannot take credit for any of the information I’ve relayed to you.” Darcy had to tell Richard. He needed someone else on his side, someone who would help him see clearly when emotions clouded his judgment.
“Ah, the informant.” Richard raised his hand. “Do not tell me who it is until this is done. You know the rule: The less we know, the better—”
“But Rich—”
“I will not hear it. It is as much for your protection as mine.”
“I must tell you—”
Once again Richard interrupted him, prattling on and on about the importance of their mission. Darcy was sick of the mission. Sick of The Four Horsemen. Sick of all of it.
“Blast it all, Richard! Will you shut up and listen? Will you forget the mission for a moment and just be … my friend?”
Richard pinched his lips closed and watched Darcy expectantly.
Having expected a retort, Darcy felt his silence acutely.
“I am quiet. It is your turn to speak, Darcy,” Richard finally said drolly.
Darcy ignored his impertinent cousin’s remark. His revelation would be shocking enough. “My informant is a young lady from Hertfordshire.”
“A lady?” Richard gasped.
“The daughter of a landed gentleman and a close friend to Sir William’s eldest daughter. Elizabeth Bennet is inquisitive and lively and,” he sighed, his voice going soft as the image of her grew stronger in his mind. “And mischievous. She is witty and too clever by half. She finds joy in the smallest things. She laughs when she is covered in mud or when a frustrated fool insults her vanity. Her whole face smiles, and her laughter would provoke the grumpiest growler to smile with her.” He paused for a breath, his vision clearing to see Richard staring at him, gaping with his mouth wide open.
“You love her,” Richard said through a wide grin. “You love a country maiden with fine eyes and a trilling laugh. I am delighted to hear it! I had been worried about you. When I saw you lonely and floundering at Pemberley after your father died, I had thought I was doing you a favor by recruiting you. I had thought you only needed to be kept busy, to have a purpose, but as the years went by, I thought I might never see you content again. But, look at you now! You are a simpering man mooning for his lady love! This is excellent! We will finish this assignment, and you will retire to marry your Miss Elizabeth.”
He would have continued, but Darcy stopped him. “The Four Horsemen know she’s important to me. One of their men threatened to hurt her unless I back off.” He pulled his collar away from his neck.
Richard’s smile faded until a thought brightened his aspect. “Yes, that. You are fortunate to have thick skin, Darcy. However, did that not happen in London? And you said she is from Hertfordshire? She is safe there, far away from Sir William and this whole affair. Did you not leave a footman and a gardener behind for Bingley’s protection? You can send word to them immediately, and I will arrange this same night for a couple more men to travel to Meryton where they will remain watching over your young lady until The Four Horsemen are locked up. They will have no influence when the court convicts them of treason and their ill-gained fortunes are seized. So you see, it is no trouble at all.” He rose. “I will see to it right now.” He looked so pleased with himself.
“She is here. With Sir William.”
Darcy heard the breath hiss out of Richard and watched him sink back onto his chair. It was the longest stretch of silence Darcy could recall between him and his boisterous cousin, but Darcy said nothing to disturb him. Richard had a mind for strategy. He might see something Darcy had missed. His situation might not be as bleak as he feared.
Richard slowly began. “Sir William is asleep right now. I only just sent my men to rest so that they are ready in the morning when he travels to Epsom. That gives us one full day before the race. There is plenty of time. You only need to convince your young lady to stay here, return to London, or go back to Hertfordshire.”
Darcy shoved his hand through his hair and groaned. “I wrote her a letter severing all connection.”
Richard threw his hands heavenward. “Only you could be so daft! What were you thinking?”
“I had just been attacked!”
“And?” Richard exclaimed sarcastically. “What? You could not think of something more dramatic to do?”
“If you could have heard that man breathing threats against the woman you loved with a knife cutting into your throat, you would have reacted the same. All I wanted to do was keep her safe. Everything I do is done to protect her, Richard. That is why I confided in you. I feel like I am drowning, and I refuse to drag her down with me. If this operation fails, I die alone. She needs to be able to move on. To be happy without the burden of guilt or wondering if things might have been different had she tried to stop me.” Darcy’s chest tightened, his throat squeezing around the words until he could say no more.
Leaning against the back of his chair, Richard massaged his temples. “I am sorry. You need help, not insults. I daresay that when it is my turn to fall in love, I will not fare any better.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “You sent her a letter. If she is half as spirited as you described her to be — by the way, I expect an explanation of the mud and the fool who insulted her vanity at some point.”
Darcy nodded. Richard would laugh at him, but he did not care.
Richard continued, “Good. As I was saying, if she is as you described, she will be angry with you. You will have to go to her and beg for forgiveness. Once you are restored to her good grace, you can convince her to leave without arousing her curiosity.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Which will be easier? The apology or the convincing?” Richard teased, a smug look on his face, so certain he was of the reply. Prepare yourself to be shocked, know-it-all. “The apology.” The stunned expression Richard held encouraged Darcy to continue. “I am prepared to beg, to grovel if I must, for her forgiveness. Anything to get her away from Sir William.”
Raising his sagging jaw, Richard shook his head. “I never would have believed it had I not heard it with my own ears. Darcy apologize? Beg and grovel? If this young lady is responsible for this change in you, you simply must marry her.” He grinned. “She does not by any chance have any unmarried sisters, does she?”
“Four of them.”
Richard’s countenance brightened considerably. “Of the same caliber as your Elizabeth?”
“Her eldest sister does her credit, but Bingley is quite taken with her. And before you inquire after the younger sisters, I think you would find them … too young.”
Richard grunted. “That will not do. I desire a lady with a bit more sense and maturity. Someone who would think this plain face handsome, and who would not mind my lack of fortune. A lady who would be content with a comfortable cottage and my constant heart.”
Darcy smiled at him. “Someone who will not mind your incessant prattle.”
“That too.” Richard chuckled.
The air was lighter. Darcy could breathe now. His problems were still present, but he had a plan. “The hour is late. I will have to wait until the morning to speak with Elizabeth.”
Richard rubbed his hands against his breeches and stood. “Try to sleep.”
“Not likely.”
Boom, boom, boom, vibrated the door. The hair on Darcy’s arm stood on end as he jumped to his feet. Richard turned to him with wide eyes. He opened the door.
An agent burst into the room, panting heavily. “Sir William is gone!”
Darcy clutched his stomach, dragging himself behind Richard, who ran outside, yelling for their horses while Darcy raced to The Golden Crown.
Chapter 29
Elizabeth watched the sunrise from her window, relieved to climb out of her sleepless bed, anxious for no reason she could explain.
When her father tapped on her door, she was eager to join him downstairs to watch the goings on while they brok
e their fast.
The same gentleman with the worn velvet jacket she had seen the night before sat in a corner, his newspaper folded on the table beside his steaming cup and chunk of bread. He nodded at Elizabeth, and she nodded back as her father guided her to a table near the windows facing the street at the opposite side of the room.
A barmaid asked if they wished to eat.
Papa rubbed his hands together, ordering another feast he would surely regret when it came time to travel in a bouncy coach down a rutted road. Before she left, he added, “Do you have a current newspaper I might read?”
“It is too early yet for today’s morning paper, but The Times came in last night’s evening post. I will see if it is still behind the counter.” She spun around to leave when the gentleman in the corner spoke.
“If it is the newest paper you wish for, I have it here.” He walked over to them, extending the folded pages to Papa.
“I do not mean to rush you, good sir. I will only accept it if you are finished reading.”
The man moved the paper closer. “I am done. Most of it is about the Epsom Derby, if that is of any interest to a gentleman traveling with his daughter.”
Her father smiled. “I doubt it is of more interest to us than it is to a gentleman traveling alone. Please allow me to present my daughter Miss Elizabeth Bennet. And I am Thomas Bennet. We hail from Hertfordshire, and while it seems an unlikely place for us to go, we are, in fact, on our way to Epsom.”
The gentleman bowed. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir. Miss. I am Lieutenant Abraham Croft of His Majesty’s Army most of the time. Today, I am employed as I have been for the past three days by Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her cheeks burning when Lieutenant Croft and her father turned to look at her.
Papa wiggled his eyebrows. “Mr. Darcy, eh? I do believe my theory will prove itself, Lizzy.” Motioning for the lieutenant to sit with them, he asked, “Is Mr. Darcy here, then?”
That was exactly what Elizabeth wanted to know. Her vision wandered about the room, through the window to the inn-lined lane, and back to Lieutenant Croft again.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” said the lieutenant, fetching the rest of his breakfast and settling at the table beside them. “Mr. Darcy was here, but he is not presently. He was called away, and given the rapidity with which events occurred, I can attest to the urgency surrounding his departure.”
Elizabeth frowned, her forehead tensing. Was he in danger still? Had another attempt been made against his life?
Lieutenant Croft paused, securing her and Papa’s rapt attention before he continued. “He gave me a message for you. He said: I beg you not to travel with Sir William. You must not go to Epsom.” He clasped his hands together. “Those were his exact words. He wished to explain more, but another man called him, and he had to rush away. I saw him gallop with another man in the direction of London and another two men gallop in the opposite direction toward Epsom. I do not know any more than that.”
At least he was not alone, Elizabeth thought. But what was he doing? And why the need to warn her? “Why did Mr. Darcy hire you to work for him?” she asked.
“To protect you.”
“Protect us? From what? Or whom?” Elizabeth clasped her hands in her lap to keep from wringing them. Her heart was flattered that Fitzwilliam had not forgotten her, that he took an interest in her welfare, but that he saw the need to hire a military man for their protection was alarming. Had the lieutenant been the reason why she had felt someone was watching her in London? He said he had been working for Fitzwilliam for three days.
“I did not ask particulars, Miss. In my profession, you learn when to question and when to follow orders. A man I trust with my life, a dear friend of mine who fought at my side until an injury forced him to retire, sought me out. He told me his employer had been attacked near his residence, that his assailant not only threatened Mr. Darcy’s life, but he also threatened the young lady he had recently dined with along with her father.”
Elizabeth went cold. “He was attacked? Was he harmed?”
Lieutenant Croft’s smile reassured her. “Only a nick of the knife, an insignificant scratch. He is much more concerned with your safety.”
Right. The threat. The letter. The dear injured friend. Elizabeth was on the brink of understanding. “Your injured friend. Was he the one who approached you on Mr. Darcy’s behalf? What did you say his name was?” The connection between a man Fitzwilliam trusted would go a long way in ensuring Lieutenant Croft was trustworthy as well.
“I did not say, but I will tell you his name is Wilson.”
Good. This fellow was honest. “You said Mr. Darcy was accosted in the street? Who was responsible? What provoked the attack?” Elizabeth’s heart drummed against her ribs.
He shook his head. “I am not privy to the details, Miss. What I do know is that Mr. Darcy bears the mark at his throat and that his first concern was for your safety. I beg you treat his message with the seriousness with which it was given.”
Elizabeth reached up, touching the tender skin where she imagined an evil ruffian pressed a knife against Fitzwilliam’s neck. That was why he had written that letter. That was why he had not dared deliver the message himself.
Once again, he had been protecting her.
She ought to have known.
They fell silent while the barmaid emptied the dishes burdening her tray onto their table. Grabbing a loaf, Papa broke it in half and spread a generous portion of butter over the warm bread. “Mr. Darcy told you to tell us not to travel to Epsom with Sir William,” he said, taking a large bite and chewing heartily.
“Not exactly. His exact words were: I beg you not to travel with Sir William. You must not go to Epsom.”
Her father gulped down his bread. “I have a theory about his reasons for prohibiting the trip, but that is neither here nor there. What he does not know is that we do not intend to travel with Sir William to Epsom, as the gentleman is not here. So, you see, there is no problem. We are quite safe.” He stabbed a piece of sausage and popped it into his mouth.
Elizabeth had no appetite. “Papa, Mr. Darcy was attacked, and I have been threatened. Surely, if he has gone to the trouble of engaging Lieutenant Croft to protect us, then it would be wise to heed his plea.”
The lieutenant nodded in agreement. “Mr. Darcy is an honorable gentleman, and whatever he is involved in must be a grave matter indeed for him to take responsibility for your welfare. Pray do not take his warning lightly. It was given for your benefit.”
Father drank deeply from his tankard, lifting one finger into the air after setting the pewter down. “I have a theory about that. Rest assured I will not do anything foolhardy. It is in my nature to be cautious.”
Theories, theories, and more theories. Elizabeth was concerned his recent success proving one of his precious theories had gone to his head.
Lieutenant Croft did not look convinced. Looking at the rest of his roll and coffee as if he did not have much of an appetite any more, he picked up his cup and plate. “Then, I will not take up any more of your time but will leave you to break your fast. Thank you for your attention, Mr. Bennet. Miss Bennet.” Bowing, he retreated to the corner from whence he had joined them, his back against the wall to face them.
“Papa,” Elizabeth hissed. “You cannot be serious. Do you not see the danger?”
“With our own guard to protect us, it is not likely anyone will attempt to harm us. Besides, the haste with which Mr. Darcy departed, leaving you under the watchful eye of a trained veteran soldier, implies he is very near to resolving his debt with that unsavory gentleman.”
Elizabeth could not keep the sarcasm from her tone. “And Epsom? Do you have a theory about why he does not wish for us to travel there?”
Her father’s eyebrows shot up. “I am surprised you have not drawn the same conclusion I have, my dear. Why go to Epsom if not to attend the Derby? As a gentleman who recently succumbe
d to a moment of weakness, gambling too much and losing to a dangerous man, it stands to reason that he would not wish for us to go there. He would hesitate to follow.”
Elizabeth stared at her father.
He chuckled. “It is not often I have followed through in proving a theory. They normally take a great deal too much time and effort. But my courtship theory is coming along nicely, and I daresay that if Mr. Darcy overcomes his vice to follow you to Epsom, then I proclaim him a gentleman deeply in love, and I will gladly give my consent when he asks me for your hand.”
Taking another bite of sausage, he snapped the pages of the paper open. “Look at this, Lizzy. I do not know how today can get any better. First, proof of my theory and Mr. Darcy’s genuine interest, and now this.” He folded the page and pointed to the article he wanted her to see before snatching it away to read himself. She was still too stunned to complain, so she listened as her father read another account of the brave spy’s heroics.
“They are calling him The Red Campion. Not quite as catchy as The Scarlet Pimpernel, but a dignified name all the same if one is to be called after a flower.”
Elizabeth tried to eat. It was going to be a very long day.
The chair groaned when her father leaned against the back sipping his coffee. “Red campions are native to Derbyshire, as is the scarlet pimpernel. I have neglected my studies of horticulture, but if my memory serves, it is also home to the more unfortunately named pignut, petty spurge, twayblade, and navelwort. Whoever this spy is will be pleased one of those was not chosen as his nom de guerre.”
She was supposed to laugh, but Elizabeth could not even manage a smile. Another thought, a theory as outrageous as her father’s, had taken hold of her mind, and the more she pondered the possibility, the more convinced she became of its truth. The more convinced she became that the danger to them was, indeed, great. But if she was in peril, at least she knew of it. The risk to Sir William was far greater, and he had no idea of it, Elizabeth was certain. Otherwise, he never would have fetched his family to join him at Epsom.