by Jennifer Joy
Her misgivings against her father’s choice to continue to Epsom waned, pushed out of her concern at the suspicion that her friends were soon to walk into a trap they had no idea existed.
Elizabeth needed to talk to Charlotte. She needed to warn her.
But, of what?
They arrived at the inn in Epsom without any tragedy befalling them. Elizabeth had held her breath, her heart leaping to her throat at every bend in the road while she kept watch out of the window opposite Lieutenant Croft whose hand, she noticed, hovered near the bulge in his coat. It was not fanciful to assume he carried a loaded pistol.
She could not wait to talk to Charlotte. What would she say when she heard this crazy story?
On arrival, Elizabeth saw no need to put her or her father’s safety to the test. She stayed indoors, and her father was happy to follow suit so long as he had people to watch, worthy conversations to engage in, and the newspapers to read.
Elizabeth occupied herself as well as she could, but the hours stretched endlessly until late the following afternoon when the Lucas coach finally arrived, and Charlotte stepped inside the inn. She took one look at Elizabeth, and asked, “My dearest Lizzy, whatever is wrong?”
“You arrived without incident?” Elizabeth asked, her relief so great, she felt warmth flood her face.
“Of course. My poor father is exhausted, but Mother is so pleased he decided to come for us. But what of you, Lizzy? You appear anxious.”
“I have been, Charlotte. Let us go upstairs, and I will tell you all about it.” She tugged Charlotte up the stairs to the rooms Sir William had arranged for them to share.
Calmly, Charlotte sat, perching her hands in her lap, her eyes focused on Elizabeth. “I am ready,” she said, pursing her lips together.
Elizabeth loved how seriously her friend took her concerns. What she was about to reveal was shocking, and she needed Charlotte’s level-headed sense.
She had rehearsed how best to present her thoughts to Charlotte, so Elizabeth lost no time beginning. “I will state the facts, as free of emotion and my own opinions as I can state them, and then I wish to ask your view to see if it matches the same conclusion I have drawn.”
Charlotte nodded.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Suppose there is a gentleman who attends a ball. He is new to the area and knows nobody. After he has been introduced to most present, he engages another attendee in conversation. The conversation is light, as is appropriate for two people who have only recently met. However, this gentleman cleverly extracts information about one family in particular.”
“A family present at the ball? And, Lizzy, if you are not to infuse your own opinion, you ought to avoid describing him as clever. Already, I know this gentleman is someone you admire.”
Elizabeth twisted her lips. If she was not more careful, Charlotte would see right through her. “I will try to leave my own impressions out of this supposition. To answer your question, the family he inquired about was present at the ball. That is the first event involving this gentleman, and on its own, not significant to merit further analysis.”
“You will let me be the judge of what is significant or not. What is the next event?”
“During a leisurely ride over the countryside, the gentleman’s hat was shot off his head.”
Charlotte inhaled sharply, but she said nothing.
Elizabeth continued, “His first reaction was to pull the lady he was riding with off her horse and shield her between his body and a rotten tree stump while he calculated the approximate location of his shooter.”
“Oh Lizzy.” Charlotte pressed a hand over her heart. She knew.
Elizabeth pressed on. “They raced back, the gentleman riding between where he thought the shooter had been and the lady. He provided a guard to keep an eye on the lady, and later, to secure her safely to her family.”
The more she talked, the more convinced Elizabeth was of her conclusion.
“That is not all, is it? There is more.” Charlotte still clutched her heart, her eyes brimming with sympathy. So much for keeping things hypothetical.
“This same gentleman dressed in black, blending into the darkness and slipping around the property of the same family he had inquired about at the ball.”
Charlotte frowned, her eyebrows forming a deep V.
“He offered a logical explanation, but given the impression of his character from previous actions, it was difficult for the lady to believe he had fallen into a gambling debt he had yet to pay.”
Now, Charlotte chewed on her lips. Elizabeth could tell she did not believe the excuse either.
“Then, this gentleman joined the lady and her father for a mediocre meal made spectacular with the quality and abundance of the conversation. The gentleman was charming and attentive and … perfect … in the opinion of the lady. And then, when her hopes were soaring, she received a letter the following day in which the gentleman broke all connection with the lady without any reason offered. He merely sent his servant to say goodbye.” Even knowing his reason, it still pierced Elizabeth’s heart to relate the event.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, as if she, too, felt the pain.
“And finally,” Elizabeth added, “she later found out that the gentleman had been attacked after leaving the dinner. The lady he had dined with was also threatened by his assailant. She learned this from the guard he hired to protect her and her father while he galloped off into the night from whence she has not seen him. Now, Charlotte, I beg your sensibleness and ask you to what conclusion you are led?”
“I would assume you are describing a novel about a spy and his true love.”
Elizabeth sank into the nearest chair. “You must know I was describing Mr. Darcy.”
“I supposed as much, and it appears I must apologize to you for accusing you of falling prey to your fancy at the assembly. It seems outrageous, but for a man as serious as Mr. Darcy to act as you have described him, he must be using his position in society to hide his true identity. As thoroughly as he has protected you, I cannot believe him a villain, though I cannot imagine why he was snooping around someone’s property.”
“That is why I had to speak with you Charlotte. It was your family he asked about and your stables he was snooping around. If Mr. Darcy truly is a spy, then he is investigating your father.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I cannot fathom why. You know I love my father dearly, Lizzy, but he simply does not possess the qualities required of a hardened criminal, nor the intellect to effect any evil plan.”
“That is what concerns me, too, Charlotte. If Mr. Darcy is investigating your father, it means that the real threat is going unchecked. He is in peril, and so is your father.”
“We all are,” Charlotte said with admirable coolness. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed together for several minutes. Then, she said, “We must develop a plan to help Mr. Darcy and acquit my father from suspicion. We must find what is going on and catch the real culprit.”
“That was what I was hoping you would say.”
Chapter 30
Darcy worked out a knot in his shoulder, feeling every hour he had spent in the saddle since Sir William had disappeared from The Golden Crown and sent him on a wild goose chase lasting two days.
Richard was in no better shape. He leaned against the brick wall of the cart shed, but his eyes never stopped scanning the rectangular building. It was the perfect location, wedged as it was between a stone wall marking the edge of the property and the back of the racehorses’ stalls. A long, skinny corridor with an entrance at both ends, it was the only building available for their use during the frantic minutes counting down to the time when the race would begin.
“Why did Sir William bring his family here?” Richard asked the question which had kept Darcy awake all night. “He is either the boldest, most shameless man in Christendom, or…” He stopped, the alternative being too horrible to speak aloud.
If Sir William was only a ploy to distract
them, if he was unbelievably oblivious to the role he played in the final act of the dramatic play they were engaged in, then Darcy did not know who their target was. And, now, he only had one hour to find him. “I have thought of little else since I caught up with Sir William. Until he reached Meryton, I had not once doubted his involvement with The Four Horsemen. The money leads to him, as does his presence here with a new horse when he has no history of racing. We must acknowledge the possibility that he is a red herring. While I have believed him to be a highly skilled and accomplished villain, I cannot believe him so callous as to involve his wife and children.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “It is a vicious circle, is it not?”
Not knowing what he meant, Darcy watched Richard until he spoke again.
“The one person who could help us is the one person we do not dare approach today. I bet you a year’s salary that one candid conversation with Miss Elizabeth would lead us right to our man.”
“Out of the question,” Darcy snapped. “She is in enough danger as it is, thanks to me.” He had known she might not heed his warning, but nothing had prepared Darcy for the anxiety he had felt when he had seen Croft standing outside the inn one of his men had tracked “Mr. Smith” to. And he knew. Elizabeth was at Epsom. The thought made his stomach sink again.
Holding his hands up, Richard said, “I would never suggest you tell her the whole truth unless it was the absolute last recourse. However, you have to admit, she has been essential to the success of this mission thus far. You will have a clever wife.”
Darcy sighed, beating his fist against the brick wall. “If we seize The Four Horsemen. If she will have me. How can I expect her to love me as much as I adore her when I have done everything possible to earn her distrust?” He winced. That harked of despair, and if he was desperate about anything, he was desperate to win Elizabeth’s heart. “If it takes years, I will do what I must to be what she deserves.”
Richard squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you success and happiness, Darcy. As much as I hate to admit it, I will miss you … and your fine brandy.”
Darcy squeezed Richard’s shoulder, and they stood together in silence in a sort of embrace which communicated everything their tight throats kept them from uttering.
Finally, Richard smacked Darcy’s arm and cleared his throat. “Your retirement will be a loss to our organization.”
Gone was the brotherly camaraderie. They were colleagues again, working together to achieve a common goal.
Darcy followed suit, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping back. “You might consider recruiting Croft. He has the advantage of military training, and he is discreet. Throughout this ordeal, he has followed orders without asking questions I suspect he is wise enough not to ask even though he must suspect there is much more at stake than his task to watch over the Bennets.”
Richard rubbed his chin again. “Yes, I had noticed. I took the liberty of asking Wilson about his family.” He paused so long, Darcy rubbed his chest and braced himself for tragic news.
“His wife and child died of smallpox while he was on duty.”
Darcy sucked in breath, his gut twisting. He could not imagine the pain Croft must have endured. It was enough to break a man.
“That is not the worst of it,” Richard continued. “The letter from his father-in-law informing him of their passing was lost. He returned home expecting to find his family and, instead, found strangers living in his residence.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Since then, Croft only takes leave when he is forced to, and then, he is known to take on other employment. Anything to occupy himself and busy his mind; anything to keep from wondering what might have been had he been with his family instead of away at war.”
Those unanswerable questions drove men to madness. What if? What if Darcy could not save the Prince Regent? What if he could not capture The Four Horsemen? What if he could not protect Elizabeth? What if his archenemy hurt her to get to him? What if after all his effort, the Prince refused to listen to reason and let his traitorous friends free? What if Darcy had to live the rest of his life waiting for them to retaliate? Acid churned in his stomach, burning his heart and stealing his breath. He could not fail. Not today. Not when it meant losing Elizabeth forever.
He had to focus. He had to control his fear, or risk losing his reason for living.
Standing to his full height, Darcy forced his shoulders to relax and his mind to concentrate on one objective. “One more hour. Then, we will be done with The Four Horsemen.”
A movement caught the corner of his eye, charging Darcy’s blood and steeling his nerves.
It was Oakley. He looked over his shoulder, then advanced toward them. “I will not stay long in case I was followed. As many men as we have stationed around the grounds, you can wager The Four Horsemen have at least as many.”
A charged calm fell over Darcy. He stood with his weight evenly distributed between his feet, his hands loose and ready at his side. His senses heightened like a soldier ready for battle. “You were able to replace Sir William’s jockey?”
“It is done.”
“He is fully aware of what is expected of him? We do not know how many riders The Four Horsemen have placed in the Derby, and we cannot risk permitting anyone but our man near the Prince. He must win.”
“He knows.”
Richard stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed. “You ensured that the real jockey will not be found until after the race?”
Oakley smiled. “I left him bound and gagged in a privy.”
Richard clapped him on the shoulder, his grin wide. “Good man.”
Darcy had no space for humor. He pulled out his timepiece. “Three quarters of an hour left. Where is your jockey? He should be here.”
Oakley looked about, his eyebrows furrowing. “I expected to find him here. He already weighed in, although there is not much there to weigh. I left him not five minutes ago, and he was on his way here for final instructions. I had thought perhaps he had already left, there not being much more to say.”
A sense of foreboding gripped Darcy. Their replacement jockey had been difficult to find. Not only did they need someone of the same stature and slight build as Sir William’s rider, but they also had to find a skilled horseman who resembled the jockey enough to be mistaken for him. If he met with any trouble, their entire mission would be compromised.
Darcy looked at his timepiece again. Forty-three minutes and one missing jockey. “We cannot take any chances. I will go see what has happened.”
Oakley stepped in front of Darcy. “Let me go. You need to stay out of sight. They know you.” His gaze flickered down to Darcy’s bandaged neck which served as a reminder of how easily the tide could turn.
Richard nodded. “I had best take my position. All my men are in place, awaiting your signal, Darcy.” He charged past Darcy and down the corridor.
Darcy hated staying behind when there was so much to do, but Oakley was right. His greatest advantage was in remaining unseen. He was about to tell his groom as much when he heard a scuffle from the other side of the cart building, the side where Richard had gone through.
Oakley’s eyes widened. “They followed me.”
Darcy spun around just as Richard stumbled in, one cheek swollen, the blade of the knife he held bright red.
Four men blocked the exit. One of them held his arm to his side, his fingers drenched in blood. But it was the tall one with the blackened eye who demanded Darcy’s attention. He pointed his finger at Darcy. “I will make you pay for this,” he seethed, plucking a dagger from his boot and running past Richard straight toward Darcy.
Chapter 31
“Have you ever seen so many people in one place?” Charlotte asked, tightening her grip around Elizabeth’s arm as they strolled over the grounds.
With Papa on her left, Charlotte on her right, and Lieutenant Croft always nearby, Elizabeth felt safe. What danger could befall them in the midst s
uch a large crowd?
“I will appreciate the relative quiet of Longbourn all the more for it,” Papa commented.
Elizabeth laughed. “So long as Lydia is not bemoaning the loss of her spent pin money, Kitty is not agitating Mama’s nerves with her incessant coughing, and Mary is not practicing to exhibit her skills on the pianoforte.”
Her father smiled. “Books provide an admirable sort of barrier to excessive sounds. It is why my library is my favorite room in the house.” He looked about, jolting forward when a gentleman clipped his shoulder in passing.
Elizabeth wrapped her free hand around his arm. “It is excessively crowded.” It was no wonder she had not seen Fitzwilliam despite her and Charlotte’s best efforts to find him. Elizabeth had even asked Lieutenant Croft, but he had been no help at all. If he knew where Fitzwilliam was, he was not telling — assuming Fitzwilliam had returned from wherever he had run off to. He may not be at Epsom at all, but that did not discourage Elizabeth from constantly looking over the crowd.
Her father patted her hand. “You will strain your neck if you continue in this fashion, Lizzy. If I am right about Mr. Darcy, I do not suspect he will make an appearance until after the race is done, at which point he can see you without the temptation to gamble. Besides, Mr. Darcy is tall. Even in this crush, you would not fail to see him.” Despite his warnings and arguments, he stretched his back and lengthened his neck to look about them.
Elizabeth lowered herself from the balls of her feet. Her father was right. If Fitzwilliam was at the racecourse, she would have noticed him. Had she not felt his eyes on her from across the ballroom at the Meryton Assembly? Even if she did not see him, she would sense him. Her skin tingled, and once again, she rose to her toes to look around.
Papa came to an abrupt stop. “Has my mind created an apparition to further prove my courting theory, or is that Mr. Bingley in the flesh?”