“Mr. Darcy is waiting for you in the library,” his thin voice remarked, the man doing little more than gesturing toward the nearby door before leaving her alone.
“Cheerful sort,” she murmured as she moved toward the library, the ajar door allowing her full view of Mr. Darcy. Seated at the desk, brow furrowed as he read and reread a letter, for half a moment she allowed herself to consider the handsome mien and strong resolve before shaking her head and knocking on the doorframe; the chill she had known vanished at the sight of him.
Lifting his head, his features lightened as he viewed her. “Miss Elizabeth, do come in.” Standing, he moved to offer her a chair.“A fresh pot of tea was brought in but a few minutes ago, along with some sustenance. I pray you have had more success today than I.”
“As bad as all that?” she questioned as she took the increasingly familiar seat, Mr. Darcy returning to the desk long enough to gather up a few papers before sitting across from her.
“No one I wrote could give any firm account of Mr. Wickham’s activities these past weeks. He went to London after leaving my sister at Ramsgate,” he said, his tone staid even as his eyes blazed, “and he may well be there still, however, over three weeks ago he disappeared. Many are in search of him by the sound of things, for he did not pay any of his expenses before he left in the middle of the night–six hundred pounds worth of debt across a dozen or more accounts. A shocking sum to manage for a rich man, to those he injured it could ruin them. Even if no one businessman suffers more than fifty pounds, that is as a workingman’s life’s savings!”
“Beyond the pale,” she breathed. “Yet, perhaps he may yet be made to pay? Is there truly no notion as to his whereabouts?"
Holding several letters out to her, he answered, “Only one of the men I queried could offer any hint, for the day before my cousin vanished Wickham was observed in the neighbourhood of my aunt and uncle–Fitz’ mother and father. He said Wickham exited a remarkably grand house, which, at the time, was being rented by a Mr. Eustice Nicholas Emy.”
Eyes wide, she breathed, “E. N. Emy. Enemy?”
“Precisely. Whoever leased the house has a peculiar sense of humour.”
“And a connection to Mr. Wickham. So… is Mr. Wickham the man behind all this?”
“Or is he merely a pawn?” Drawing back, Mr. Darcy tapped his thumb on the chair’s arm. “I am inclined to believe Wickham formed the notion, but how a man with enough means to let such a house came to join Wickham in this scheme is beyond me. Surely, a man capable of securing such lodgings would not need ransom money to bolster their coffers? Either way, I shall make further inquiries.”
Laying aside the letters which she had quickly perused, no more information appearing at first glance than Mr. Darcy had supplied, Elizabeth drew out her sister’s handkerchief. “The alley which leads from the main road toward my aunt and uncle’s is where my sister was taken; this is Mary’s.”
“Did anyone witness it?” he asked as he stood, the furrow she had noticed earlier returning.
“No. No witnesses,” she sighed, the chill she had known rushing to her core. “I suppose that is a good thing for maintaining the fiction of her being ill, but it does nothing to help. I only know she was taken from there because it was the last place she was seen and because there were marks in the earth which looked peculiar. Those paired with finding her handkerchief behind some barrels not but a step or two away, and I can draw no other conclusion.”
The room growing silent, Elizabeth’s thoughts began to prey upon her.
Nothing was known of Wickham’s whereabouts. Nor Darcy’s cousin. Nor her own sister. The handkerchief, while near-proof of Mary’s abduction, did nothing to point toward a culprit or where they might have taken her. Indeed, with busy streets on either side of the alley, anything else they might have learned had long since been destroyed.
Was all they could do truly just to pay the ransom? If thirty thousand for Mary and another for Colonel Fitzwilliam were even possible. Surely, no matter how much Darcy might wish to help, the full figure for both would be beyond them.
Face falling as she considered it all, Elizabeth felt what hope she had once had die; the eventual safe release of her sister growing less and less real.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy remarked, conviction thick in his voice, “we shall get your sister back. True, finding them is the best and most proper solution, but should it require it, I promise to find the ransom. It may not be easy,” he laughed softly, “but my family’s London home can always be sold. Please, do not lose hope. My cousin and your sister will be alright… I promise to do everything in my power to see it so.”
Face softening, she turned her gaze toward the intense eyes of Mr. Darcy.
He meant what he said in every respect.
He knew of her dislike, knew she had not offered her forgiveness, and yet, this man, whom she had not too long ago loathed, would do everything in his power to help. And that somehow meant more than if any other man of her acquaintance had made such a promise.
Chapter 6
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, somewhere in Scotland
Eyes cutting toward the wall where he had spent days loosening the hook, Richard considered attacking the man checking his bonds and attempting an escape.It would be good to be free again,he thought with a smile before noting how low the sun presently stood and forcing that notion away.Wait. Use your head. One of them always comes down just before dawn, the rest of the men will be asleep, the dark will serve as cover, and the day soon to follow will light the path. Just a few hours more.
“Need to relieve yourself?” Timothy, as Richard now knew him, asked uncomfortably once assured all of Richard’s ropes were still tight.
Brow raised, Richard answered, “Given the amount of water and food I am provided, that is not presently a problem.”
Face easing, he gave a quick nod, “Good, ‘cause I have better things to do. You get a cell mate as it were; a pretty little thing I would say, considering.”
A woman? Why in heaven’s name would they kidnap a woman? His family, or more likely Darcy, would be expected to pay his ransom. Unless? Please,he worried as he sat straighter, the sound of footsteps up above growing,do not let it be Georgie.
“‘ere we are Miss Bennet,” an unfamiliar voice crowed, Richard’s heart easing that his young cousin had not been abducted. “This is where yous’ll be staying. Watch your step now, the stairs are a mite rickety, hate to ‘ave ya make any more foolish decisions.”
