“I think we can call him Bingley now, don’t you?” she said with a teasing smile. “And no. I was smothered by his concern, but not distressed by it. His sisters will keep any gossip about me in hand, so I must not dislike them as much as I did before. I will reconcile myself to that misfortune as best I can.”
Jane rose to leave. “You know you are certain of a willing listener in me. Aside from”—she struggled to find a word—“whathappened with Darcy. If you want to talk about the abduction or your feelings for him, you know where to find me.”
Whenever she might wish to talk, she could rely on Jane, but the only person she wanted to talk with now was Darcy. If he did not come to Cheapside soon, she would have to take matters into her own hands. As she knew now, life was far too fleeting to sit idle.
Darcy had spentthe day calling on friends who referred him to acquaintances who might know of someone in the Peak taking on young scholars as boarders. Now, Darcy left Brook Street with the name of a clergyman in Sheffield twenty miles from Pemberley who tutored boys Kirby’s age. As reluctant as he was to part from him, sending Kirby to where he could settle into a new life far from his uncle was best done as soon as possible.
It was late Wednesday afternoon, but there was time yet to call in Cheapside. It would not be a fashionable visiting hour by the time he got there. Only someone angling to be invited to a family dinner would call now, but hopefully a quarter of an hour alone with Elizabeth would allow him to be included in that number.
He would lose half an hour walking home and ordering his own carriage. He felt impatience build in his chest as he walked to the hackney coach stand at the corner of Brook and Bond. It was worth the money to get to Gracechurch Street all the sooner.
He was about to hail a driver when a voice from behind him said, “Shall we share?”
Darcy spun round to see Markle. The mere sight of him was sufficient to astonish him. Markle was not a tall man, five footnine at the most, but the ruthless look in his eyes told anyone of sense that this was not a man to be trusted.
Markle’s hands were empty, and Darcy saw no obvious signs of a weapon, but he still took a step back.
Markle smirked and looked at the passers-by, riders, and coaches all around them. “My business is of the utmost importance to me, Mr Darcy. Killing you on a crowded street is not good for my business, but I still would not recommend threatening me.” He passed a hand over the pocket of his greatcoat where Darcy could now see the outline of a knife.
“Is that why you did not stay at the Bull and George to kill us?”
A shadow darkened Markle’s eyes. “Quite.” He tilted his head at the coach stand. “What part of town are you going to?”
“I have changed my mind,” Darcy said. “The next one is yours.” Getting into a carriage with Markle was a sure way to get stabbed in the chest.
He walked away, but Markle kept pace with him. “Going home, are you? Or perhaps back to your friends? You have been all over Mayfair today.”
Darcy had turned down Bond to walk toward Berkeley Square, and he realised Markle had learnt where he lived. Not a difficult task when one rented a house for generations and such things were printed in London directories. What was more alarming was that Markle had been following him all day.
“You have gone to the trouble to find me, but you claim you no longer are interested in kidnapping me,” Darcy said. “Or murdering me.”
Markle gave the slightest of shrugs. “Lady Catherine will be publicly shamed, and killing you no longer suits my purpose, for now.”
While Darcy struggled to breathe normally, Markle added, “Where is Nan?”
“Back at Rosings, I suspect,” he said, keeping up the ruse and not showing one symptom of the fear that was knotting his stomach.
“Not Lady Catherine’s daughter,” Markle spat. “YourNan.”
Darcy did not answer. He would walk to Brooks’s. Markle would not be allowed inside the club, and Darcy could gather support there to detain him.
“If you do not wish to talk about Nan, tell me where is my nephew.”
Darcy saw where this was going, and it twisted his heart.
“Not inclined to talk?” Markle asked as they walked. “Then you can listen: my nephew has been missing since Monday.”
“Are you afraid someone abducted him? Terribly frightening when that happens.”
Markle’s eyes flashed at this taunt, and Darcy watched his nostrils flare. “It is no coincidence that you escaped and Kirby fled the day after.”
“Your nephew did not help us. You have only your friend Steamer to blame for that. I do hope he survived the fall from the carriage.” Darcy saw a muscle twitch near Markle’s eye. “Maybe Kirby left because your business distresses him.” The yellow brick clubhouse in St James’s Street was not far now. “Regardless, it is no concern of mine, and since you have decided not to kidnap me for ransom or kill me on the street, I suggest we part ways.”
“Itisyour concern.” For such a slight man, his entire manner was menacing. “Kirby helped you in return for something. He is good at allying himself with people who will aid him. The baker for an extra bun. The vicar for a new book. The squire for a chip of ice.”
“Why would I help the nephew of the man who tormented me?”
“If you do not admit it, I will make you. Where is Nan?”
