Page 75 of To Win Her Affections

“I said nothing as I deemed it pointless. It was only in hindsight and the knowledge of his growing immorality that I understood what he had expressed.”

For a moment, Darcy considered asking his cousin to be explicit, but he decided there was no reason for it. Wickham’s depravity was well past any further knowledge being required—Darcy knew enough to understand their current purpose was more than justified. Nothing else was needed.

“Let us speak of practical matters,” said Fitzwilliam, turning businesslike. “There are several men in the area watching the house, and I have them in clothing that will allow them to blend in. They will be of assistance, but we must remember to exercise caution. Those we are likely to meet will not offer much deference to gentlefolk.”

“That is quite all right, Colonel,” jested Mr. Gardiner, “for I am not a gentleman.”

“It matters little, regardless,” said Mr. Bennet. “I will allow no one to stand in the way of retrieving my daughter.”

“I do not blame you,” replied Fitzwilliam. “All I ask is that you remain cautious.”

“It would be best if you allow me to deal with Mrs. Younge,” added Darcy. “I expect little deference or respect from her, but she knows me and understands something of my character.”

“Do you suppose you will need to bribe her?” asked Gardiner.

“Without a doubt,” replied Darcy. “Yet I will use bribery as a secondary measure only.”

“You will threaten her,” said Fitzwilliam, his approval obvious.

“As you know, I still hold something over her,” said Darcy. “First I will threaten her; once I have her attention, I will suggest that cooperation may prove profitable.”

Mr. Bennet nodded his approval. “An excellent strategy, sir. When we go in, I shall follow your lead.”

When the carriage stopped a few moments later, they alighted onto the street, narrow and twisting, one Darcy imagined might have appeared sinister if it had been dark. On one corner across the street stood a pair of disreputable-looking men wearing dark coats and black hats, eyes glittering from behind shaded faces. With the driver and two footmen in attendance—one of them Thompson, who was as big as three men—Darcy knew that no one would bother them. This was not the sort of place a gentleman usually frequented.

“Colonel,” said another man approaching them.

Darcy saw his hand twitch as if saluting was a habit he had suppressed. He was dressed in unremarkable clothing that was not so shabby as some of the other denizens, but would not attract notice.

“Reilly,” said Fitzwilliam in greeting. “Do you have anything to report?”

“No, Colonel,” said the man. “A maid left a short time ago, but other than that, no one has left the house. There was a young girl in one of the windows for a short time, but she disappeared.”

“Was she dressed like a gentlewoman?” demanded Bennet.

“Difficult to say, sir,” replied Fitzwilliam’s man. “She was not there for long, and the glare on the pane made it impossible to see.”

“Very well,” said Fitzwilliam. “Some men are watching the back entrance?”

“Yes. Two men and two more watching the front.”

Fitzwilliam nodded, satisfied with the report. “Keep watch and do not let anyone out. We do not know if our quarry is here, but let us not take chances. Should he manage to flee past us, take him into custody the moment he emerges.”

“Of course, Colonel,” said the man.

Again, he restrained himself from saluting, but Darcy thought it was a near thing. He moved away to resume his post, and Fitzwilliam turned back to Darcy.

“No sense in waiting. If Wickham is here and he chances to look out a window, he might devise some means of escaping.”

“Then let us act at once,” said Bennet.

Darcy led them to the front door, taking the lead as he would be the one negotiating with Mrs. Younge. Though he had not been to her house before, there was nothing Darcy had not expected to see. It was old, paint peeling from the door, the windows cloudy, though Darcy noted some effort had been made to clean them. It was not the abode of a gentleman, or even of a merchant of moderate means—it was the house of a woman whose husband’s death had left her dependent upon her own resources.

When he rapped the door knocker against the wood, Darcy stepped back a little, listening to the sounds inside the house. After several moments, just as he was considering a louder knock, he heard approaching footsteps on the other side.

The woman who opened the door was matronly, dressed in the gown and cap of a typical servant, though not the finer clothing the employee of a wealthy man might wear. She looked at him, a scowl crossing her features, though Darcy did not think she disliked the sight of him. When her gaze took in the four men at his back, her expression lightened just a little, as if understanding that this was not a social visit.

“Good day,” said Darcy, ensuring the woman understood from his speech that he was a gentleman—if his clothes had not already made the fact plain. “I have come to speak with Mrs. Younge. Please summon her at once.”