March 1, 1812
Netherfield Park
Darcy
“He’sinthestables,sir,” Browning reported as soon as the prisoner had been secured. Richard grinned beside him. Colonel Fitzwilliam had insisted upon accompanying his cousin once he learned of the plan—his skill in interrogation would be invaluable.
“Has he said anything?” Darcy asked.
“No. Hood’s still on. I doubt he even knows where he is.” Browning allowed himself a wicked grin. “He never saw our faces, either.”
“Let us have done with it immediately, then.” Darcy rose. “The Ladies Montrose are at Longbourn. They do not yet know we have captured their assailant. I shall inform them once we understand the full nature of the threat.”
The three men left the house and crossed to the stables. At the rear, in a storage room far from the horses and out of earshot, their prisoner waited. Darcy entered first, Richard close behind. Browning positioned himself behind the man, out of his line of sight, and pulled off the sack.
“Greetings.” Richard said smoothly, stepping forward with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Thank you for joining us. Your name, if you please?”
The man clenched his jaw and turned away. Browning seized a handful of hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to meet their gazes.
“It will go easier on you if you cooperate. Transportation is your best hope, though the destination remains negotiable. I hear Van Diemen’s Land is a fine place. Snakes, spiders, larger reptiles…perfect punishment for a would-be murderer.”
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”
Richard dragged a chair forward and swung it around, seating himself astride it with his arms resting on the back. He met the prisoner’s eyes, unflinching. “No? Why is that? Loyalty to your masters? I doubt it. Fear then? You need not fear, for they will not find you where you are going.”
Beads of sweat formed on the man’s upper lip. From the doorway, Darcy watched in silence, arms folded, his jaw set in a hard line. He had promised Richard he would stay out of it, but the urge to plant his fist in the man’s face had not lessened.
“Don’t matter then. Ye can toss me aboard a ship bound for anywhere. What I say won’t make no difference.” His rough speech grated on Darcy’s ears.
“But it does.” Richard leaned forward. “If you would rather spend your journey swimming in bilge water, say nothing. More comfortable accommodations await those who cooperate.”
Richard stood. “We shall leave you to consider your options.” At his nod, Browning replaced the hood. The three men exited the windowless room, leaving their prisoner tied to the chair and alone in the dark.
“Keep watch,” Richard ordered. “Do not allow him to escape. He has been searched, I trust?”
“Yes, sir,” Browning replied with a nod. “We found four blades and a pistol on him.”
“Let us hope he has nothing more hidden.”
Darcy scoffed. “I am more interested in hoping he speaks.”
“He will, Darcy. Men like him place their own skin above all else. He will talk—if only to save it.”
“He has already resolved to say nothing. He knows he will be transported regardless.”
“That remains to be seen. I suspect a more…fitting punishment may be arranged. If he will not speak, I believe Marshalsea would be an appropriate destination.”
They left the stables, two guards posted at the door behind them. Darcy’s patience wore thin.When will this end?
Jarvis
Jarvis caught every word they spoke, though they likely believed themselves well out of range. Jarvis had always had good hearing, and it served him well now. Marshalsea or transportation? The latter held more appeal, certainly. His former masters had men in the prison—he would not last more than a day in there. He would have to give the nobs something—anything—to keep himself out of the place.
But what? Of those who had hired him, Silas Winters was the lesser threat. He could give up the location of the townhouse and, if Winters managed to slip away, claim he had been hired off the street and had no name. No names—just a house number and a location. It might be enough to keep him alive and get out of England. Once abroad, he could start again. His trade travelled well——there were always thieves and smugglers somewhere in the world.
His face dripped with sweat. Despite the spring air, the small room had grown stifling, especially under the hood. His breathing grew labored in the heat. After what felt like hours, he heard the door open. Three sets of boots crossed the floor. He sensed movement behind him, then the hood was pulled away. Cool air touched his skin, and he drew a deep breath.
“I do hope you have given my offer proper consideration,” said the red-coated officer. “I have been more than generous, you know.”
