Fitzwilliam clapped his hand on his shoulder, then gave it a jostle before letting go. “I am sorry, I am not helping. Maybe Miss Bennet will have changed her mind about her scheme, escaped again, and will be walking down Lambeth Road looking to hail a hackney.”
He sat up with a sigh. Elizabeth would do no such thing, not when Kirby’s and Georgiana’s safety as well as their own hung in the balance. She would follow their plan and stay as long as she believed Markle would send for him to make the exchange.
“When this is all over, would you like me to distract the revenue men so you can steal a kiss unobserved? Shall I ride back to Mayfair in a separate carriage so you can have a private moment to talk with your betrothed?” Fitzwilliam shoved his arm with his shoulder. “Or something more?”
Darcy shook his head over his cousin’s teasing. “She is just like you in a crisis. Forcing levity and being cheerful regardless of anything.”
“It is not how we behave when we are in a crisis,” Fitzwilliam said quickly, “it is how we behave whenyouare facing a crisis and seem on the verge of every last nerve wearing to pieces. I am done judging you, and if I cannot amuse you, I can at least distract you. Did my nieces and nephews destroy your drawing room?”
He forced a smile. “It is a good thing I am getting married because Elizabeth will need new wallpaper, carpets, and a sofa after the children spent an hour in it.”
Would he marry, or would Markle kill her out of spite? He had no time to enjoy his happiness in being accepted. “I shouldhave gone to Gracechurch Street instead while you saw Kirby off in my place.”
Fitzwilliam barked a laugh. “Darcy, it was hard enough for me to watch Miss Bennet get into a hackney with a man like that! There is no way that you could have stood there and let it happen.”
What a plague on his peace this was, and he had not even had to watch her be taken.
“Kirby is safely away?” Fitzwilliam asked after some moments of silence.
He was trying to distract him. If he could not be cheerful in return, then he could at least be calm. “The carriages left with the children, and my footman George will escort him to Sheffield. Conway stayed at Berkeley Square. He must not have seen Kirby, but he also did not follow me to the Excise Office. He must have known they were taking Elizabeth today and there was no reason to follow me.”
“Do you think the officers will know where Markle is and apprehend him now,” Fitzwilliam asked, “or are we doing this just because you cannot sit still?”
“Both,” he said, “although they do not have the resources to hunt him down. But if I tell Mr Sullivan where he is, or near enough, maybe we need not wait for Markle to contact me.”
“Was it difficult to convince an officer of revenue that you could bring them to the man who murdered their fellow officer?”
He shook his head. “Did you know the revenue office has had to recruit the navy to help them stop smugglers? They are overwhelmed and cannot pursue every infraction, and not when local justices rarely help. But the officer, Mr Sullivan, wants Markle for murder, and he thinks witnesses will come forward once they arrest Markle.” Darcy thought over his conversation with Kirby earlier this morning. “Part of me wonders if Kirbysaw the whole thing too. He might present evidence against him.”
“It is better Kirby is gone then, out of anyone else’s power to give him back to his murdering, smuggling uncle.”
No one cared about Kirby but himself and Elizabeth. The boy deserved to not be hit, to not be recruited into a life of violence at the age of twelve. They were now in the city, and Darcy thought of Elizabeth’s distressed family. “The Gardiners must be terrified. Should I call in Gracechurch Street?”
Fitzwilliam spun from the window. “And say what? That you allowed their niece to be kidnapped to trap Markle, that you encouraged it, that there has been a smuggler and murderer following you and he might kill youandher if he does not get his nephew? And that you would like also to marry her, after you have put her in danger? Oh, certainly, that will put them at ease.”
Darcy looked at his hands, heat crossing his cheeks. “Yes, but they should know we have a plan to get her back.”
“And do you think they will let you marry her if they know you allowed it?”
“I allowed nothing,” he corrected. “Elizabeth is a competent woman who makes her own decisions. She was right that this was the way to secure Markle’s arrest and free us from having his shadow over us for the rest of our lives, which would be infinitely shorter since we know he will eventually kill us unless we stop him.”
His cousin scoffed. “Perhaps, but how many uncles or fathers would accept that? How many men in general would accept that a single young woman made an informed choice to do something dangerous and that you, as a man, did not stop her?”
“Regardless, Mr and Mrs Gardiner must be beside themselves,” he said, “and poor Jane Bennet inconsolable.”
“You truly want to waste hours patting their hands and answering demanding questions? Better to show up at their doorstep when it is done, with Miss Elizabeth.”
“Should I not assure them that I will get her back?” If he said it enough, if he thought it enough, perhaps by his own will he could make it true.
“You want to marry Miss Elizabeth? Then they can never know you were a party to this. I know you hate to lie”—Fitzwilliam dropped his voice—“but you have to, so let us hope we recover the young lady and that they never question your involvement in her being taken in the first place.”
Chapter Twenty
The Excise Office in Old Broad Street near the Royal Exchange was a large stone edifice that presented an air of strength and propriety. Darcy and Fitzwilliam walked past the tall ceilings of its Judicial Court with its commissioners to find Mr Sullivan’s less lofty office.
Mr Sullivan was a tall man, past forty, with an ill-shaped nose and a smile that was just as lopsided. He sprang to his feet and came round his desk when Darcy entered.
“Back already, Mr Darcy? Has your scheme with your brave lady come to fruition?” he asked, leaning against his desk with his arms folded.
