Wentworth,
Show this to no one except Croft. I have been sent to Eastbourne to investigate claims of strange coastal activity. At first it was thought to be smuggling, and smuggling it might still be, but activity in the areaisincredibly strange, and there are quite a shocking number of agents involved.
The agreed methods of communication with headquarters have proven to have been tampered with or faulty, and I have notrustworthymilitary assets to assist me here. I must put my own pieces into place until help arrives.
You and your fellow captains know all of the places to hide in wait on the coast, and if you chose to settle in nearby until further notice, I would consider it a favour. Who knows, perhaps somethingwillhappen, and there may be some fame and prize money for you and your friends.
Col. R.Fitzwilliam
Darcy wokeafter another night on a hard, wet floor. He had been in the cave for days, though now he was manacled. Wickham was always close by, Darcy could hear him speaking, but never entered the area in which Darcy was held, likely not wishing to be questioned by him. Every other day, a haggard oldwoman dressed in rags would appear, giving him a hard crust of bread and a small pitcher of water, but she refused to speak to him. Darcy was starving, wet, filthy, and barely had the ability to attend to his more personal needs.
He had spent days listening to Wickham and a man, who Darcy now understood to be the man known as Huggins, whom they had seen in Meryton. There was to be an invasion in Eastbourne. The French would actually land here. Darcy did not know how many ships were coming, or how they believed the plot would be successful, but it was absolutely certain that an invasion was planned, and that it would happen in mere days.
“There is something else that must happen before the landing, and you must see to it,” said Huggins in his gravelly voice. “The foreign secretary’s other brat has arrived, with his wife and children. You will remove them from the situation. The daughter too.”
“I am to get rid of Ashleyandhis whole family? And his sister? How am I to kill so many at once?” Wickham objected.
“That is your problem,” Huggins said darkly. “Burn the house if you must.”
“That would have been easier in Derbyshire, where Matlock is isolated,” Wickham protested. “Here in Eastbourne, they have the fire brigade close by. Not to mention, you have seen all of the men watching the house. It is not half a regiment, but I will never get close to the place, particularly considering that most of the men watching are Darcy’s men, and they all know me.”
“No one cares how you do it, just get it done,beforethe ball,” Huggins snarled. Darcy then heard the man leave.
Darcy could not countenance what he had just heard. Ashley’s entire family! And what on earth had Priscilla done to anyone? He waited a few moments to be sure Wickham was alone before bellowing, “Wickham! You have ignored me long enough, get in here, damn you!”
Wickham entered the small section of the cave in which Darcy had been held since he arrived. “Been eavesdropping, Darce? You know that they say if you listen to the conversations of others, you might hear something upsetting.”
“Wickham, could I possibly interest you in a bank draft for twenty thousand pounds and passage on a ship for Canada?” Darcy said hopefully. Perhaps if he appealed to Wickham’s avarice, he could remove them both from this situation before it happened.
Wickham laughed hysterically. “Are you jesting? The time for that has long passed, Darcy. I am in this so deep, I shall never dig myself out. My only hope now is to go to France. They have a chateau and a fortune waiting for me there. You always were cheap with your bribes.”
“Wickham, if you believe you will make it to France alive, you are more stupid than I ever believed. Why would they keep any promises to you?”
“I know you saw me and my contact in Meryton. Did you not recognise my uncle?” Wickham asked. “Huggins is only a name he uses while in England.”
Darcy stopped and thought for a moment. A man had arrived in Derbyshire when they were boys, and Mrs Wickham Senior had claimed him as her brother. He had stayed for perhaps two weeks before Mr Wickham had decided that there was something sinister and suspicious about the man, and at Mr Darcy’s request, had sent him packing. Darcy had been but eight years old, and for the life of him he could not recall the man’s appearance or the French name he had gone by.
“You believe that just because he is your uncle, orclaimsto be so, that he is to be trusted?” Darcy scoffed. “You do notknowhim, George. You did not grow up with him as your doting uncle. Why would he give a piss about you? How can you be certain you are not being used?”
“Whether I am or whether I am not, I am in too deep to turn back now,” Wickham said.
“And you do not mind murdering Ashley’s entire family? To what purpose? What the hell is wrong with you, George? My father gave you a home when your parents died, gave you an education, connections, he gave you a real chance! How have you come to this?” Darcy demanded. “What is it that has broken inside you that you would murder three small children?”
“You know that I have no quarrel with Carlisle or his family,” confessed Wickham. “And the idea of harming Priscilla, well you must remember, Darcy, you know how I felt about her when we were young. It grieves me a bit. But I have no choice. When I say that I am in too deep, that means I must do everything they tell me, or they will kill me. I could not even hope with any confidence that I might be safe in Canada. I have no choice but to proceed.”
“You should never have let yourself be dragged into this!” Darcy said angrily.
“You ought to have just given me an estate, Darcy. It was cruel of your father to raise me as a gentleman and give me no means to continue as one. I was not raised to work.” Wickham shrugged. “You ought to enjoy what little time you have left. I will not even lie and suggest that I look forward to killing you, but it will have to be done in a day or so. I will probably send one of the other men to do it. My parting gift to you is that I shall not force you to look into my eyes as the light leaves you.” Wickham left him then, as Darcy shouted and screamed in rage for Wickham to come back and discuss this rationally, like men.
CHAPTER 47
Duchcov, Czechia - 1798
An old manlay ailing in a bed in a darkened study in Duchcov. He had been ill for some time, making the journey to his book room impossible, and so his bed had been moved there for his comfort some months ago.
Giacomo Casanova contemplated his life and experiences as he laid back on his pillows. He had finished writing “The Story of My Life,” some years before, and had bequeathed it in his will to his nephew. He had nothing to look forward to now, but the spectre of death when it came for him.
But there! Was that not the spectre of death? Casanova gasped as a shadowed figure in the darkened doorway entered the room. He relaxed as he recognized his visitor. Not death. Just an old friend, another celebrated and learned impostor, like himself. Though he must admit, it had been many years since he had seen this man, and his lack of age since their last meeting made him wonder if the man was as much an impostor as he and Voltaire had always claimed.
