Raising the Stakes (First Impressions)

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Elizabeth had been in enough carriages in her lifetime to recognize the feel of smooth, well-kept roads versus the rough, uneven paths that signaled a descent into the less reputable parts of town. The carriage she now occupied rattled and jolted with increasing frequency. Wherever they were taking her, it was nowhere familiar.

She swallowed hard, sinking her fingers into the worn fabric of the seat and telling herself if they tried to touch her again, they would have to drag the carriage along with them.

There were now two men with her.

Mr. Temple, as he had introduced himself, sat across from her, watching her with a polite expression that did nothing to disguise the steel beneath it. He was a man of middling years, dressed plainly enough to pass for a merchant’s clerk, but there was something too polished about him. His bearing, his voice, the way he had maneuvered her so efficiently into the carriage without raising suspicion—none of it fit the picture of a simple office worker.

The second man, larger and silent, had been on the box, at first. But they had made her get out—a different carriage, gruff words and coins thrown to the previous driver, her head covered, and the pistol shoved into her ribs as they pushed her from one carriage to the next.

Now, the second man sat beside her. A guard. Or perhaps simply muscle meant to discourage struggle.

Her mind worked furiously. How had she been so foolish? So easily deceived?

She had known something was wrong, had known the letter was no mere clerical error, and yet she had walked straight into their trap. Temple had followed her; from the moment she left the safety of her aunt’s drawing room. And, apparently, she had not gone where they wanted her to go .

Temple must have noticed her quickening breath, for he stretched his long legs and kicked his feet nonchalantly into hers as he shifted in the carriage. “There is no need for distress, Miss Bennet,” he said in a voice that might have been soothing if not for the situation. “We only wish to clarify a few matters.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Clarify? Then it is a pity you chose such underhanded means, sir.”

Temple’s smile did not waver. “Unfortunately, your schedule did not seem to allow for a proper appointment. We had to be… creative.”

“‘Creative?’ I would say simply ‘rude.’”

He chuckled. “You see, Miss Bennet, we find ourselves rather disappointed. We had every expectation that, at last evening’s gathering, you would fulfill your duty. And yet… twice now, you have failed to do so.”

Elizabeth’s heart gave a lurch, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “I fear you are mistaken, sir. I have no duties to fulfill.”

Temple’s gaze sharpened. “No? That is interesting, given how much trouble you have already caused.”

She blinked, and her jaw felt slack. They truly believed she was involved in something. They expected something from her. “What do you want from me?” she asked carefully.

Temple leaned back slightly, folding his hands. “A simple matter, really. The letter, Miss Bennet. And the key.”

The bottom of her stomach dropped. “I do not have it,” she said before she could think better of it.

Temple’s eyes flickered, but his expression did not change. “No?”

“No,” she repeated, her pulse hammering. “I never had it to begin with.”

Temple exhaled through his nose, as though indulging a stubborn child. “Miss Bennet, let us not play games. The items in question were left for you. And yet, you have made no effort to fulfill the arrangement.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she insisted.

Temple tilted his head. “If that were true, it would be most unfortunate. Because if you did not complete the task yourself… then that must mean you gave the letter to someone else.”

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry.

Darcy.

They would realize she had given the letter to Darcy. Her fingers ached as she dug them deeper into the cushions, and she willed her face not to register any alarm.

Temple watched her closely. “That would be very… inconvenient for all involved.”

Elizabeth swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “I do not know what you are expecting of me.”

Temple sighed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Then allow me to explain it simply, Miss Bennet. There is a shipment expected to depart in the next two days. If the proper information is not received by the right people, well… mistakes may be made. And those mistakes could have rather serious consequences for those involved.”

A chill crawled down her spine. “What sort of shipment?”

Temple’s smile returned. “Come now, Miss Bennet. Do not insult both our intelligence. You are well placed, you must know enough of the business affairs. Unless, of course, someone else has made you a better offer? Again, I say, that would be most inconvenient.”

Her pulse pounded. Shipment… They were using Uncle Gardiner’s ships.

She took a slow breath, forcing her mind to steady. They expected her to correct whatever mistake they believed she had made. And if she failed to do so, someone else would pay the price. Uncle Gardiner, or Mr. Darcy…

Temple leaned forward slightly. “Let us be clear, Miss Bennet. If you truly do not have the letter—if you have already passed it to someone else—then you will retrieve it. Or you will inform us of where we may collect it.”

Elizabeth held his gaze. There was no way out of this. If she denied everything, they would not believe her. If she revealed what little she did know, she placed others in danger. She needed time.

“I will see what I can do,” she said in the most nonchalant tone she could affect.

Temple studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “That would be most wise.”

The carriage slowed. Elizabeth glanced out the window, her heart pounding anew. This was… not Cheapside. They had taken her somewhere unfamiliar.

Temple followed her gaze. “Do not fret, Miss Bennet. We are merely taking precautions.”

Before she could ask what he meant, the door swung open. The larger man beside her gestured for her to exit.

What choice did she have? What chance had she, if she chose to fight or try to escape from two men, in a part of town so unfamiliar to her it might as well be the Orient? Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before stepping out onto the uneven cobblestone street.

A small, nondescript building loomed before her, its windows shuttered, its entrance unmarked. Temple exited behind her, adjusting his gloves with an air of satisfaction. “Come, Miss Bennet. There are a few more things we must discuss before we part ways.”

Darcy barely waited for the carriage to stop before he wrenched the door open and launched himself up the steps of Gracechurch Street. He knocked sharply, the force of it shaking his own bones.

Elizabeth had to be back by now. She had to be.

And if she was, he was going to have some rather sharpish questions for her. But he would rather confront her with hard questions than find she was not there to confront.

The door opened swiftly, and the Gardiners’ manservent regarded him with mild surprise. “Mr. Darcy? Welcome back, sir.”

“Is Miss Bennet returned?” Darcy demanded, not even bothering to stand up straight. He probably looked rather like a brooding bear, hunched forward and staring from the cold and urgency pounding in his chest.

The manservant blinked, but before he could answer, a softer voice interjected.

“Mr. Darcy?”

Mrs. Gardiner appeared at the end of the hall, her expression warm but perplexed. She came forward, smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I had not expected to see you this afternoon.”

Darcy barely inclined his head. “Forgive the intrusion, madam, but I must speak with Miss Bennet. It is urgent.”

A strange look crossed Mrs. Gardiner’s face. A slight furrow of her brow, a faint tension in the lines around her mouth. “She is not yet returned,” she said carefully.

The breath left Darcy’s lungs. “Not… yet returned?”

“She left a note saying she was going to Hatchard’s.”

Darcy shook his head. “Yes, I heard that, but I do not believe she went there. She came to me.”

Mrs. Gardiner blinked. “To you? ”

“I was not home,” he admitted tightly, “but my butler told me she left in some distress. That was hours ago.”

Now it was Mrs. Gardiner’s turn to pale. “She… she has not come back. I was beginning to worry, but now—”

A cold certainty settled in his gut.

“What is this?” Mr. Gardiner’s study door creaked open. Apparently, he had heard the exchange and now joined them in the entryway, his brow creased in concern. “Elizabeth is missing?”

Darcy swallowed against the growing unease. “She came to my house to discuss something that had unsettled her—I think it might have been a message, a note she received.”

Mrs. Gardiner pressed a hand to her chest. “A note?”

Gardiner exhaled sharply and turned to his manservant. “Lewis, send for the coachman at once. And then tell me what you know of this. I want every detail of this afternoon—everything that happened before Miss Bennet’s departure.”

The household stirred to life. Footsteps, murmured voices, a hasty search for information. The manservant returned from sending word to the mews and stood by, his face very full of something.

“Wilson, you saw Miss Bennet before she left?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

“Aye, sir,” the manservant answered, his face lined with concern. “A message came for her—a note.”

Darcy and Gardiner exchanged a sharp glance. “A note from whom?” Gardiner asked.

Wilson hesitated. “A man named Temple. Said he was from your shipping office—I thought, perhaps, she had placed an order.” His eyes slid to Darcy with clear implication—because of him, any number of items must have been “ordered” for Miss Bennet of late.

Darcy saw Gardiner go rigid. The color drained from the merchant’s face. “I employ no one by that name.”

But Wilson shook his head. “He waited in the hall for a reply, sir. Miss Bennet, she asked if the message was meant for you, instead, but the messenger said her name, and it was written on the outside of the note. It was just after that that she decided to go to Hatchard’s.”

Darcy forced himself to focus, to sift through the tangled web of implications. The note. Elizabeth’s abrupt disappearance. A stranger waiting for her .

His uncle’s voice echoed in his memory— “There is smuggling happening through Gardiner’s shipping company. Prisoners, most likely.”

“Mr. Gardiner,” he said, watching the older man closely. “How well do you know your own shipping business?”

Gardiner turned to him, his face pale. “Only that it is honest, Mr. Darcy. Entirely honest. I have never once cheated a tariff or smuggled so much as a pound of tea without paying its tax.”

Darcy studied him, searching for any sign of falsehood—but there was none. “I believe you,” he said at last.

Gardiner let out a breath. “Then what in Heaven’s name is happening?”

Darcy’s expression darkened. “My uncle has long suspected something nefarious connected to your ships. I only learned of it today. He does not know if you are complicit or a victim—but something is happening under your name.”

Mrs. Gardiner let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

Gardiner’s voice was tight with controlled anger. “Impossible! If someone is using my name—if someone is using Elizabeth—then they will answer for it!”

Darcy nodded grimly. “Right now, we must find her.”

Gardiner squared his shoulders. “Where do we begin?”

“I have an idea,” Darcy said. “Go to your warehouse, see what you can turn up. I will meet you there.” And with that, he turned, striding toward the door. He had wasted enough time.

He needed Richard.