Chapter 32
Darcy looked up in horror as Alexandra walked up to Mr. Bennet and blurted, “No matter what Darcy says, he’s not to blame for this. Not for any of it.”
Mr. Bennet pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you saying he has been lying to me, then?”
“It was me idea to kidnap yer daughter, Mr. Bennet. I’m a selfish wretch, not at all like Miss Elizabeth, ye see. When I learned how ardently Darcy loved her, I wanted to know what she’d done to him to win such deep affection.”
Darcy felt his stomach plummet to the floor. If only they made muzzles for people like her. He felt Mr. Bennet’s gaze on him, inspecting him, and it was all Darcy could do to meet his eyes when he wished the ground would swallow him whole.
“How could you possibly have learned such a thing?” Mr. Bennet asked, his expression changing to one of immense shock. “He did not mention my daughter while he was on your ship, did he?”
It was the angriest Darcy was ever likely to see Mr. Bennet, and he could not blame the gentleman. Darcy blamed himself, too.
“Not at all, sir! I asked him in as many ways as I could think; tried to trick him, even. But Darcy isn’t an easy one to trick. He’s too clever. It weren’t ‘til I slipped a little sleepin’ powder in his grog—”
“That is enough,” Darcy warned.
“Ye weren’t talkin’. So I helped ye along, knowin’ how some men speak more freely in their stupor, sayin’ things they’d never say when they’re alert. It must’ve been a pleasant dream. Ye smiled through the whole—”
“Enough. That is quite enough.” This was Darcy’s worst nightmare come to reality. He covered his burning cheeks with his cold hands, hating how that woman could make him lose his composure where so many others had tried and failed.
“So you are the outstanding intellect behind both vanishings?” Mr. Bennet responded with his usual amusement, graciously turning his attention away from Darcy and toward Alex.
Unfortunately, Alex was relentless in her intent to clear Darcy from blame. “I wouldn’t call meself outstandin’ in anything polite and proper, but I can tell ye that Darcy’d never expose yer daughter to danger.”
“Not knowingly perhaps, and yet that is what has happened … repeatedly, I might add. Sword fights, cannon balls, sinking ships, and pirates…”
“We aren’t pirates no more, sir,” Alexandra interrupted. “Nick’s determined to be a proper privateer and help His Majesty’s Navy take down the Frenchies.”
Mr. Gardiner gave her an odd look. “Are you not a Lafitte?”
“Me father was French, but the origins of me mother aren’t exactly known. I might be Portuguese … or Spanish … or—”
“Please stop,” Darcy begged.
“Not ‘til I’m done helpin’ ye.”
“Believe me, you have helped enough.”
She rolled her eyes, then continued talking, ignoring his supplications completely.
“Look here, Mr. Bennet, yer daughter’s been teachin’ me how to be a lady, and while I’ve a way to go yet, I’ve learned enough to understand that a gentleman worth his salt always places the welfare of his lady above his own.
That’s what I want to tell ye. From the moment I brought Elizabeth aboard, Darcy did everything he could to return her safely to ye.
He even agreed to fight me with the sword—nearly beat me, too. He’d have done ye proud.”
Darcy dropped his head into his hand, massaging his temples. If Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner did not think him a complete scoundrel, they would now. Fighting a woman … and with swords, no less.
“Really? He almost bested ye?” Nick asked. At least he sounded impressed.
Alexandra continued. There was nothing Darcy could do short of clamping his hand over her mouth to shut her up.
“The thing is, sir, I’m alive and the captain of me own ship because of me keen instincts.
And while me instincts have always been selfish—puttin’ Darcy and Elizabeth in danger and worryin’ ye and yer family is proof enough of that—I’ve seen with me own eyes the firmness of Darcy’s character.
He’s a gentleman through and through. He’s defended and protected yer girl from the start.
He’d give his last breath to make her happy.
The danger to yer daughter was my doin’, and for that, I …
I…” She swallowed hard, speaking rapidly, “I’m sorry. ”
Nick started clapping. Only then did Darcy realize how quiet the room had been.
Even his uncle must have been listening to their conversation.
Darcy’s mortification was complete. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin, ready for the blow.
Ready for Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner to tell him never to travel within five miles of Longbourn or Gracechurch Street.
Elizabeth poured more tea into her father’s cup. “Are you up for an intellectual challenge such as you have never experienced, Papa? A real mystery to solve?”
He looked at her, intrigued. As did Darcy. How had he not considered that angle?
“We are near the first clue, the place Nicholas was deposited after being taken from the Darcys at Pemberley. The delay to our return would be insignificant, and you would have a worthwhile riddle to ponder.”
“What of the danger?” Uncle asked.
“You shall see for yourselves that the danger has passed. We are on land. What could happen now?”
Nick added, “We’re not needed here. The Fancy’ll need several weeks before she’s seaworthy, but it’d sure be a boon to have an astute mind like yers to help us puzzle out what happened.”
Mr. Bennet’s sharp eyes snapped to Nick. “I am astute now, am I? Since your observation cannot be the conclusion of previous study, I must assume your compliment to be influenced by my daughter’s artful wording.”
“What about Connell?” Alexandra asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. “He can follow us if he pleases. What can he do so long as Nicholas is surrounded by his influential family? Perhaps he will find a more worthy prize to pursue, then we may carry on in peace. Imagine that, Papa. A couple days, just a trifle delay, of peace.”
“You call cramped, jostling carriages peaceful?”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I never claimed that my argument was perfect.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled, and Darcy knew she had won. He also knew he was doomed to lose most of their disagreements. While he was accustomed to always having his way, he did not find the prospect of losing to Elizabeth troubling in the least.
The man Mrs. Finchley trusted with her dirtier tasks stood in front of her, twisting his hat in his hands and shuffling his weight, enduring her blackest stare.
“You let her get away?” she repeated through her clenched teeth.
“She must’ve climbed out the window at the dead of night.”
“And you have no indication where she went?”
His head bowed lower. “No, ma’am. But I’ll find her. You can count on it.”
An excuse Amelia had heard many times in her life. One she did not accept lightly. Slowly, deliberately, she rang her bell. “Send another cup up. Mr. Smith must be parched,” she ordered, motioning for him to take a seat.
He did so reluctantly.
“You can hardly be blamed. She is as slippery as a greased piglet. Like a bird, she flits away,” she chuckled at her own joke.
“I appreciate your understanding, Mrs. Finchley.”
She cooed, “How could I not extend you some leniency when you have been in my employ these twenty years? Not once have you given me cause for complaint until now. No, Mr. Smith, let us put this behind us. Find her, and bring her to me, and all is forgiven.”
The maid returned with the teacup and saucer, and Amelia poured, fumbling the service just enough to tap some of the powder from her ring into Mr. Smith’s cup.
“You have been a benevolent employer, Mrs. Finchley, and I thank you.” He toasted her health and drank.
While he sang her praises, she planned her escape. She could not stay in London where they could find her. She must get away.
He lifted his cup again. “Thank you for the bit of refreshment, Mrs. Finchley. Now, I have a bird to catch, so I will take my leave.”
Amelia smiled at him. She figured he had an hour left. Two tops.
Weak hearts were so unpredictable.