“What if he smells a rat?”
“He will not,” said Darcy, with absolute certainty. “He will be too busy selling his wiles to Miss Bennet to pay much attention to his surroundings.”
He refused to think of any other possibility. As long as Elizabeth led him inside the warehouse and her maid Betty locked the door, all would be well.
“I hope you are right.”
They had gone over this. It was crucial that Wickham did not see them until it was too late.
The sound of a key turning had them falling completely silent. They had discussed the matter long into the night before coming up with the key as a warning that Miss Bennet was about to bring him in. The colonel came to sit next to Darcy and gave the signal to the Impressment officers to be on the alert. They would not come out from behind the burlap bags until the maid had locked the door.
Darcy could see shadows moving between the gaps in the boxes. He kept very still, hardly daring to breathe.
“Shall we sit down?” said Elizabeth, indicating the table and chairs that had been set up.
“It is a strange meeting place,” said Wickham, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Why are we meeting in the storage room of your uncle’s establishment?”
“We could not be private anywhere else. I trust my maid to be discreet.”
It was the signal for Betty to lock the door. Darcy looked towards the colonel, who nodded.
Darcy tensed. This is where the plan could unravel. Until the door was locked, anything could happen.
He heard the scraping of chairs, and then the clink of china. “How do you take your tea, Mr. Wickham?”
“With beautiful young ladies,” replied Wickham.
Darcy saw red. He could not just sit by while that cur tried to seduce the woman he planned to marry. His cousin’s hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed, holding him in place.
“Cake?”
More clinking of china, and the sound of a teaspoon stirring tea. Had Betty locked the door yet? What was taking her so long? Had they missed the sound of the door locking?
“What is going on?” said Wickham, sharply.
Something had happened to make Wickham suspicious. Their time was up. A chair scraped. There were running footsteps followed by a woman’s cry. Darcy sprang up and ran into the main storage space, terrified that Wickham was holding a knife to Elizabeth’s throat.
Wickham was pulling Betty’s hair, trying to reach the key in her hand.
“Is it locked?” asked Darcy.
Wickham’s face darkened as he spotted him.
“Yes, sir,” said Betty, trying to twist out of Wickham’s grasp.
Darcy sighed in relief. There was no other way out of the warehouse.
“Have you resorted to spying on Miss Bennet, Darcy?”
Then, as Colonel Fitzwilliam joined them, his mouth drew back in a sneer.
“Have you brought reinforcements? I suppose you meant to play fisticuffs? Are you too much of a coward to face me alone?”
“You mistake me. I am beyond fist fighting. I promised you, if you approached my sister again, I would make you pay. I will not dignify your behavior by challenging you to a duel. That is not what I had in mind. I have some officers from the Navy who are interested in you. They seem to believe you would make a good sailor.”
The Impressment officers stepped out from behind the boxes. Wickham scanned the space around him, searching for anescape. His face was feral, like a cornered animal. Seeing none, he swung his fist back and hit Betty hard, hurling her to the floor, then stepped on her arm to wrestle the key out of her hand.
“You have revealed both your depraved and vicious propensity. How dare you strike a defenseless woman?” Darcy threw himself at Wickham, pulling him away from Betty.
