“Was anyone near to that spot tonight?” The clock on the mantel across the room said it was almost eight.
He nodded again. “Mr Easton thinks it was a different man. Different heights, different coats.”
Kirby had said his uncle had two crews of smugglers, and it took five or six men to manage each ship. “Markle has some of his smugglers watching my house.” At least the men were focusing their attention on his home and not his sister’s. The brandy had calmed his nerves, but had not settled his fear.
“I told the boy to stay inside and away from the windows. He was shaken that his uncle was looking for him, but he seems to trust you to manage it all.”
Did he not always manage everything for those he cared for? Was that not what his father had entrusted to him on his deathbed? Were all first-born children—all first-born sons, especially—naturally responsible, duty-bound leaders who could be relied upon?
“I will,” Darcy said, setting his glass on the table. “I just have to reason how.”
“That is what you do,” Fitzwilliam said, smiling. “You take care of your sister, your friends, me—sometimes,” he added with a wink.
“Only if you let me,” Darcy said, trying to meet his cousin’s manner, but failing. “Lady Catherine never needed anyone’s assistance. She mismanaged or wasted her fortune from ignorance and greed, and look what happened.”
“I tease, but you do not actually have to care foreveryone. And certainly not those who do not ask for it.”
“A habit,” Darcy said drily, as though teasing. There was truth to it, though. Pemberley had hundreds of people within his care, and he had an orphaned younger sister. He had a duty to those less fortunate, a desire to be generous to anyone in need.And of course, he had a responsibility to his friends. But he had not helped Bingley, however kindly-meant he had been.
“What is that pensive look for?”
“I have not taken as good care of my friends and my sister as I could have. I should have done better by them. And I know that I have been selfish in the past as well, and I must make up for that.”
“You really take on too much,” Fitzwilliam retorted. “This child in your house is a liability.”
Darcy drew back. “Couldyouhave left a little boy to abuse and neglect? This is the same boy who told you where to find us, who risked a second beating to make sure they did not shoot Elizabeth and me in our—chamber.” He had nearly said “bed,” but best not to let his cousin think on that.
“And,” Fitzwilliam said, as though he had not been interrupted, “his presence in your life is a threat to your sister and Miss Bennet. If you take this on, it is for the rest of this boy’s life. Even if it is always a secret managed through other parties, you will be forever entwined with the nephew of the man who tormented you.”
“I will take care of him the way his family should have.” Darcy was resolved on this. “Markle is not pursuing him through the law because he knows he would be under scrutiny for his other crimes. He only wants him as a future smuggler. I feel no guilt in facilitating Kirby’s escape.”
Fitzwilliam gave a pitying smile. “You are a good man.”
“You look like you want to say meddlesome, interfering, or maybe controlling.”
“Only in jest. You are well-intentioned, even if you take on too much.” Fitzwilliam leant forward and said in a softer voice, “Are you afraid to go home?”
“No,” he answered honestly. He was afraid for his sister and for Elizabeth, not for himself. “Markle needs me alive for the present. I just feel…unsettled.”
Fitzwilliam gestured at a waiter and ordered drinks for them. Darcy was contemplative until the waiter returned and then left, his cousin waiting for him to sort through his thoughts.
“I thought we were safe now. And Markle just approached me on the street. It was so…unexpected and exceedingly brazen.”
“It was. Sadly, menacing you is not illegal.”
“Pursuing a violent smuggler who abducts people should be easier,” Darcy muttered, taking a drink. “The magistrate from where we were abducted will never serve that arrest warrant. Mr Wade will say they cannot find the smugglers.” He considered the matter. “Maybe they cannot. I know they are always on the move, from one hiding hole to the next. Still, the magistrate would rather fox hunt and sit in his handsome brick mansion than exert himself.”
“He may be afraid this smuggler will burn down his handsome brick mansion.”
Darcy nodded in concession. “I shall have to go to Bow Street. Sadly, that will involve Kirby, and a court will say I had no right to aid in Kirby fleeing his rightful guardian who beats him.”
“It will also take longer,” Fitzwilliam said. “Someone who abducts an heiress, or a slave trader, or someone who steals a child,” he said, ticking off on his fingers, “these are the cases of abduction that get noticed.”
“I cannot wait for the law to act and arrest Markle—if they can even find him in whatever tunnel or basement he hides in. I need to keep my sister safe and get Kirby out of London now. Markle said two days, and today is nearly over.”
“Markle must not think you would keep Kirby in your own house. Still, they might soon decide to break into it to search it.”Fitzwilliam took a long drink and then stared into his glass. “Or he will break into it to take his frustrations out on you.”
“Then I must think quickly, because he is already impatient, and if he cannot find Elizabeth or Kirby, he is going after Georgiana.”
