He knew his cousin was afraid for Elizabeth, but to be that misunderstood stung. “No, it is rather that I need to never be out of control.”
He could not stand to have things in his life be unmanageable and turbulent, and he was capable of being in authority, of overseeing and directing, of preserving order around him. Sitting idle did not suit him, not knowing did not suit him, and he typically had the intelligence, the authority, and the means to make decisions and act on them.
He was the eldest son, the one on whom all responsibility and duty fell. Had he welcomed it, or had he simply never a choice? Regardless, he wanted to be in control, but now he had to relinquish all of it to get Elizabeth back and stop Markle.
Mr Sullivan came over with his dark lantern now lit. “We will proceed. Markle could move at any moment, and this is still the best opportunity we have had to capture him. The boy is going with you. If you tell Markle that Kirby told you where tofind him, it might keep Markle distracted for longer. Then he won’t focus on how you found him and grow suspicious.” Mr Sullivan looked to Kirby. “Although, if he hints to Markle that he is being set up for arrest, he will rue the day he proved himself a treacherous urchin. Mr Darcy, call out to Markle. Keep him talking while we surround the yard; make him believe you will turn this boy over once you see Miss Bennet. Between us and the River Police, he has nowhere to go.”
Darcy took the dark lantern Mr Sullivan handed him, opening the shutter just enough to spread a narrow beam of light on the road. Kirby fell in next to him, wiping a grimy tear from his cheek. “I was looking for Nan for you.”
The boy wanted to be believed, and Darcy wanted to believe him, but he had to put Elizabeth’s safety first. “Quiet for now. It will all be sorted once Miss Bennet is safe.”
There were warehouses and manufacturers, breweries and wharves off this road. The blending of odours, of cut wood, smoke, and the river, was unpleasant as they approached the timber yard. It was after nine o’clock, and there were few lanterns lit near the shed. When they were nearer, he saw wisps of smoke rising from the narrow chimney of the dry-house and no one outside.
“If no one is working, why is that smoking?” Kirby whispered, pointing to the dry-house.
Darcy put a finger to his lips. “If you came back to help, now is your chance to prove it,” he said in a low voice.
He put his hand on Kirby’s shoulder, but he was not sure if he meant it to be reassuring or to keep Kirby at his side in case he tried to run to his uncle.
He knew the excise officers and Fitzwilliam were behind him, coming up the road and spreading out like a fan to surround the smugglers. Still, his heart pounded, and he felt a cold sweatacross his body. If they had misjudged, if any part of this scheme of theirs failed, Elizabeth’s life could be forfeit.
From the way Kirby tensed under his hand, Darcy knew he had seen the smugglers at the same moment he did. It assured him that Kirby had been telling the truth. Darcy gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, hoping to convey that he would not turn the boy over.
Conway and Markle were walking toward the timber shed from behind the dry-house. Colton was by the shed, leaning against some raw logs yet to be processed.
Darcy had to swallow twice before he called, “I have something of yours.”
Colton and Conway spun round with pistols raised; Markle slowly turned and then stood still, with his head tilted, watching them.
“I received your note,” he went on, “but I am an impatient man.”
Markle still did not draw a weapon, but his eyes narrowed. Darcy had the impression Markle was calculating.
“You have caused me a great deal of trouble,” Markle finally said to Kirby.
Darcy squeezed Kirby’s shoulder, reminding him to stay silent. “Then let us put an end to all of this unpleasantness. You wanted to exchange Miss Bennet for your nephew; here he is. Where is she?”
Markle took a few steps nearer, and Darcy wished for the pistols his cousin had taken. Although, his desire to put a bullet in Markle’s heart right now rather proved Fitzwilliam’s point.
“I don’t remember arranging a meeting,” Markle said, his arms crossed over his chest. “How did you find us?”
Before Darcy could distract him, Kirby said, “I told him you store brandy barrels here. He insisted on coming directly. He wants Nan back.”
“I convinced Kirby to tell me where I might find you,” Darcy added.
Markle ignored him and took out a small penknife, turning it over in his hands. Even though his lantern light was dim, Darcy was afraid that knife was the one he had given Elizabeth. The pain in his heart was acute. If that knife had been used against her, Darcy would kill Markle with his own hands.
“Where is she?” he repeated, wondering how much longer the excise officers would be.
“Nan does not have the mettle you think she does,” he said carelessly, looking at the knife.
“Miss Bennet is the bravest person I know, next to Master Kirby. You said that you wanted him, so?—”
“She seemed certain that you might come for her tonight.”
Darcy’s stomach dropped. What duress had she been under to confess that?
“Now, I have to wonder if all of this was planned, and with a little help from you,” Markle said, pointing at Kirby.
