Markle gave a dark smile. “Free trading has taught me to adapt quickly. Lady Catherine’s nephew has something of mine, and now I have something of his.”
She supposed it was pointless to argue that she did not belong to Darcy, or that she was even significant to him. “Mr Darcy stole nothing of yours.”
“He knows where my nephew is.” Markle looked out the side-glass. “Troublesome boy, not like my sister. Perhaps too like his father, though; too stupid by half, that one. Damned boy needs much correcting.”
Elizabeth thought of Kirby’s bruised eye and how happy he was to read a book with a plate of food within reach.That is whyI am here.She was protecting an innocent boy who had no one to defend him. “If he is troublesome, why do you want him?”
Markle turned swiftly from the window to stare at her. “Because he is mine,” he bit out.
Elizabeth was too startled by his anger to reply. She clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from trembling. This was the plan, so there was no reason to fall into a panic, but perhaps she could move things along. The idea of another two days as a captive was now more fearful than it was when she talked about it in Darcy’s library. Perhaps it could be resolved in hours instead.
“Do you,” she stammered, “do you intend to trade me for him because you think Mr Darcy knows where Kirby is?”
Markle did not bother to answer.
“Shall you demand a ransom as well, or do you only want Kirby?” Elizabeth forced her shoulders down and let out a slow breath. “Mr Darcy would pay to get me back.” She would not mention a specific amount. She was not desperate yet.
To her shock, Markle snatched her right hand off her lap, his thumb turning the diamond and sapphire ring. “I suppose he would,” he muttered, shoving aside her hand again just as quickly. “A betrothal gift, I presume. Was it out of affection or some pompous honour over your good name?”
That did not deserve a reply. “He will want me returned, and you want your nephew. We can settle this, and I am certain Mr Darcy would pay to have it settled swiftly.”
Markle smirked. “Well, then everything will be neatly arranged, according to you. Do you think you are clever, Nan? I think you are stupider than that boy.”
His calm tone was alarming, but she could not allow herself to be intimidated. The desire to challenge him rose in her. “I am surprised that you abducted me yourself. Usually, it is Steamer who abducts and transports your victims.”
Markle’s eyes flashed, and in a swift motion, she was struck across the face. He could not draw back far in the hackney, and it did not hurt as much as when Steamer had hit her with the back of his hand. She had only not been expecting this blow, and cried out more from shock than pain.
“I cut Steamer’s throat for losing you, and for kidnapping the wrong bloody woman.”
Elizabeth forced down her fear. He had lost his temper, and Steamer died. A revenue man had confronted him and was stoned at the bottom of a well. A potential informant was burnt in his barn. She was stopping a child beater, a kidnapper, a murderer, a violent man who could not be trusted.
As she cradled her cheek, Elizabeth wondered at Markle’s confession. For a shrewd criminal, even an impulsive one, it was foolish to admit he had killed a man. “You ought not to say such things, Mr Markle.”
He barked a laugh. “Who will you tell?”
Elizabeth dropped her hand and looked up quickly. “No one, if you trade me for Kirby, I promise.” Markle made no answer. “You want your nephew returned to you, do you not? You need him in your gang?”
“Oh, yes,” he said mildly, looking out the side-glass again. “Dearly do I want him back.”
His strange manner and replies caused her pounding heart to quicken. Everything was proceeding as she and Darcy had intended. So why did it feel like they had got something wrong?
Now that Kirbywas gone and Darcy had returned from the Excise Office, now that he had no task before him, anxiety settled into his mind. Fear that Elizabeth would be injured, fearthat she would be terrorised and never feel safe again, fear that she would distrust her own decisions and be harmed as a result all mingled and intensified as the day went on.
His cousin had listened to the plan in stony silence, dissent plain in his features, but Fitzwilliam had done as he asked and gone to Cheapside to watch the Gardiners’ house. Five hours had passed, and he had not come back, and Darcy could not decide what was worse: that she must have been abducted and he had followed them, or Elizabeth had yet to be taken and this agonising waiting might go on for another day.
Darcy was still prowling in his drawing room when he heard the front door open and his cousin’s quick tread on the stairs. Fitzwilliam could always come and go from the house as he pleased. Rather than wait for him to open the door, Darcy ran to it and wrenched it open himself, startling his cousin, who had a hand out to reach for the knob.
“You are a sight when you have nothing to do.”
“And when I am sick with worry,” Darcy answered, moving aside so Fitzwilliam could enter.
The look on his cousin’s face answered his unspoken question.
“He came at nine and took Miss Bennet when she was alone on the street,” he said, as though reading from a report. “A slight man put her in a hackney from the stand at Gracechurch and Spread-eagle. I was not fast enough to follow it, so I noted its number and waited for the driver to return. He said he took them across Blackfriars Bridge and noticed that they changed into another hackney at Union Street and Blackfriars.”
Darcy inhaled to speak, but Fitzwilliam went on. “Yes, I went there next and asked all the drivers who took that fare. After an hour and a few coins, I found the driver. He said he went down Neptune Place as far as Hatch House, but would take them no farther.”
Darcy could not imagine what was on the south side of the river in Surrey. “What are they doing in Lambeth? It is marshes and meadows near to there.”
