Jarvis swallowed. “Yeah, I thought on it. I’ll tell ye what I know. It ain’t much.” He swallowed again, throat dry.
“Speak.” The officer pulled up a chair and sat.
“Don’t know no names. I was hired off the street to do a job.” He shrugged. “Not out o’ the usual for me.”
“You are often hired to kill young ladies?” the redcoat asked, sharp-eyed.
Jarvis stiffened. “That ain’t what I meant! I get hired fer odd jobs is all.”
“You, sir, are a liar. If it comforts you to believe your target was your first, cling to that thought. But give me the information I seek, or you will lose your chance to negotiate.”
Darcy stood by the door, silent until now. Yet Jarvis could sense theanger radiating from him—sharp and unmistakable. “There’s a house on Bloomsbury Street,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Number five. Got my orders there.”Let Winters face what was coming.
“Thank you,” Richard replied coolly. “Make yourself comfortable. We will verify your claims before proceeding.” The hood came down once more, plunging Jarvis into the darkness. Muffled voices followed just beyond the door.
“Send a rider at once.” Darcy’s commanding voice—firm and unyielding—brooked no argument.
“Even if he rides hard, it may be hours before we have word. And subtlety is required. They must proceed with care. Go to your lady, Darcy. I shall remain here.”
Jarvis leaned back in the chair. His discomfort and the pain in his hand would keep him from resting, but he had best make the attempt.
Winters
Ten days. It had been ten days, and not a word. Jarvis had never stayed away so long. He kept chambers in the house and favored his soft bed. Fearing the worst, Silas began to gather any incriminating papers. If Jarvis had been caught, he had no doubt the sneak-thief would offer up his employer to save himself.
Years of detritus littered the house. Silas burned every item thatmight reveal his involvement, taking care to destroy anything bearing his name. He left Jarvis’s rooms untouched. If anyone came for him, they would find his belongings and assume he had lived there alone.
Where would he go now?Silas frowned. There was a boarding house across the street. He could stay there and watch his own front door. If anyone arrived, he would know he had been betrayed. He packed a small trunk with essentials and whatever valuables remained. A purse of coin tucked into his coat, he slipped out the rear door and made his way across the street.
The proprietress had a room available, and he secured it at once. Fortunately, it overlooked the street. He paid for the week in advance, then settled at the window with a book. From there, he could easily see his front door.
Nothing happened for two days. Passersby came and went. The noise and bustle of the street, so familiar from within his home, now felt strange when viewed from the other side. Silas passed the hours with books, cards, and small amusements. By the third day, he began to believe he had misjudged Jarvis—that perhaps the man had succeeded, and all would proceed as planned.
On the fourth day, soldiers arrived at his front door. They did not trouble themselves with knocking; instead, they broke down his finely carved entrance and stormed inside. Silas’ face darkened with fury. Jarvis had betrayed him.If the man is anywhere in England, I shall find him.He glared out the window toward his house, and though he could not see what passed within, he imagined it clearly—his furnishings cut open, every drawer and wardrobe turned out, every scrap of paper examined.
An hour later, two men left the house, leaving three within. Silas paced and fumed, calculating his next move. Returning home was out of the question. He might flee to Yorkshire, but his creditors would find him there soon enough. He picked up a decanter he had brought from the house and drank directly from the mouth. The spirits dulled his edge, and he drifted into a restless doze.
Memories stirred in the haze. A small girl, seated beside her prone father, his hand clutched in hers. Her tear-streaked face turning toward him. Her crumpled form as he…
He jolted upright.If you want something done properly, you must do it yourself,he thought grimly. Snatching up the newspaper, he scanned the pages until he found what he sought.
Lady Maude Montrose, now the Dowager Countess of Montrose, plans to present her granddaughter, the suo jure Countess of Montrose, to the ton. The lavish ball is scheduled for the fourteenth of March, the young countess’s birthday and the day on which she reaches her majority.
“This,” he murmured aloud. “This is my chance.” It would likely be his last opportunity to rid himself of the wretched girl. He could not fail again.
Darcy
“No sign of an accomplice?” he asked, incredulous. “Were we played for fools?”
“I do not believe so. The hearth showed traces of burnt paper—our man must have known we were coming and destroyed whatever might have implicated him. We did find a room in the house that appears to have belonged to our prisoner.” Richard shook his head. “He knew whoever hired him more than he let on.”
“So, he lied to us. I suppose I ought not to be surprised. So, the danger to Elizabeth is still out there.”
“You cannot hide her away forever, Darcy. Keep your men alert and go about your business. Bingley and Miss Bennet are to marry in two days’ time. Go, attend the festivities—socialize with the family and be with your Elizabeth.” Richard clapped him on the shoulder.
“Will you accompany me? The invitation included you.” He wanted Richard close; an extra pair of eyes.
“I shall join you at Longbourn once I see to it that our guest in the stables is on his way to London,” his cousin assured him. “Browning will see him aboard a ship bound for Australia. I am half-tempted to send orders that he be stowed with the cargo…or the bilge.”
