Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Most in the room knew the truth of Hanley’s involvement as a sort of spy from within, though they believed his efforts had concluded with the hanging of the man they once believed was Francis Warren.
Hanley took charge of the discussion, laying out the facts as he knew them, showing that Francis Warren was alive and continued to operate on his mission of sedition.
He spoke with an authority that was astonishing to Darcy, given his prior impression of the man’s nature.
“It is important to note that there is ample indication that both brothers were involved. I myself attended many meetings with the two present. Francis was more intimately tied to the more radical activities, but both were fully engaged, no doubt about that.”
To convince them required a great deal of persuasion, but they had finally come to Hanley’s side of things when he delivered the letter written in Henry’s hand that attested to his scar.
“It was nearly five years ago,” protested Lord Liverpool. “Surely it would not be so—”
Darcy interrupted. “His wife—my wife—saw it in 1809, and it remained large and discoloured. It might have faded, but something of it would remain.”
Silence ensued as each man considered it. At last, Harris, the man who had led the investigation from the beginning, spoke. “So were we to prove that the man who now claims to be Henry Warren, Lord Courtenay, does not bear any sort of scar on his chest, we would be certain he was Francis?”
“There is more,” Darcy stated, extracting from his coat the note he had received from Elizabeth earlier that day. When it had first arrived at his house, he was astonished by the likeness in the turn of their minds, but quickly moved to the more useful value of the note, which he now shared.
Hanley added his own suspicions, mentioning, “Even if the man is Henry, he remains seditious, and there are several who can attest to his activities.
Of course, it would be less desirable since he must be tried according to the privilege afforded an earl, but nevertheless, he is not blameless.
However, I think such concerns are unwarranted.
There is little doubt in my mind that the man currently living with Lady Courtenay—rather, Mrs Darcy—is Francis Warren.
Harris yawned. Lady Matlock’s delightful dinner in combination with Lord Matlock’s port made him a bit sleepy.
“Let us meet with him tomorrow for questions. We shall rely on some word from his valet and the men in the mines as well. Those barracks the miners live in are rather open; no doubt, they all see each other in various stages of dress. If the scar was ever there, one of them was sure to have seen it. And we need is the friend’s word on the wound that he inflicted. ”
Darcy was not pleased with the hesitation. “Tonight we must go—”
“We cannot be hasty,” Harris replied firmly. “We must consider how it is best done, and that is not always the quickest way.”
“I must protest, for even now Mrs Darcy—”
“Mrs Darcy has been in residence as Lady Courtenay for several months. One more night will not a difference make.”
Elizabeth stared at him, disbelieving his meaning. “Here? By the fire?”
Having apparently grown tired of her confusion, he scooped her into his arms, kissed her neck, and carried her towards the fire. “Right here, love. Let us be licentious and wild, tossing propriety to the wind.”
She forced herself to kiss him. “Very well, but you must excuse me for just a moment. I shall hasten my return.”
He smiled, settling her on her feet. “I shall count the seconds.”
Leaving him, she hurried to her bedchamber.
Once there, she paused to look at the journals, particularly the latest one containing Henry’s thoughts on meeting and marrying her.
For a moment, her eyes closed. Considering what he had written and what had become of her life since then caused rage to boil up within her.
She ran her hand over the cover, thinking of the words therein, and her hand shook.
How dare he? How dare he!
It took her only a moment to find what she sought, and then she hurried back to the drawing room. She grabbed a shawl from the chaise as she passed.
When she re-entered the room, she saw that he had removed his shirt and his shoes. His purpose was quite prominent in his breeches, and she had no doubt she would know the truth of it soon if she did not do something to divert him.
She gave him a queer little smile, laying her shawl down on the settee and joining him in front of the fire. “April has been a bit cold, has it not?”
“I do not mind. I enjoy the fire.”
“I do as well.”
He smiled at her in what seemed an attempt to look loving. To Elizabeth, it merely looked feral, and it stirred the anger within her. He kissed her, running his hand over her bosom.
“I, uh, I must tell you…something.” Elizabeth frantically searched her mind for any topic of discussion that might distract him. I am angry, violently angry, and angry people are not always wise. There is nothing for it now but to play along.
The man caressed her breast, using one finger to draw down the material of her bodice as his lips began to kiss her jaw and neck. “Hmm?”
She could think of nothing. All wit, all reason fled in the face of her indignation and anxiety, and she could not think of anything that would delay him, much less terminate his efforts. The thought of permitting him…it repulsed her. But what could be done?
“I shall not undress you, but do allow me to take down your hair.”
Her impulses took over, fuelled by desperation. Very well then. If I must be in the game, let me play my best.
She pulled away from him as much as she could. “Where is your scar?”
He did not seem to hear her. The fingers of one hand wound into her hair as the other inched up her skirts.
“What became of your scar?” she insisted.
He stopped his explorations to look at her. “What?”
“Your scar. It is gone.” She looked at his smooth, unmarked chest. Like Henry, he had little chest hair; thus, the smooth skin of his chest was plainly revealed.
He smiled genially. “I do not have a scar.”
“From fencing, yes, you do.” Elizabeth saw an odd light appear in his eyes. She was reeling, losing control of the situation, but she plunged in headlong. This is the game, and it is at last my turn. “I should say, Henry did.”
Darcy and Hanley departed from Matlock House. Darcy was deep in thought, forming a plan to retrieve his wife, when Hanley spoke. “He enjoys brothels. He goes to one almost every night.”
He looked over at Hanley, confused by his words.
Hanley continued, “I met him many a night to accompany him. I could call on him now and say we had plans.”
“Are you suggesting we go to Towton Hall? I shall take any excuse, no matter how unlikely. She is my wife, and she is with another man. It is all I can do to maintain my composure in the matter.”
Hanley considered a moment. “Francis will not mind the excuse, but Harris will not like it. I must tell him it was previously arranged that I would call and accompany the earl to Madame Aurelia’s. Francis and I shall leave, and you can take Elizabeth away. Francis will never know the difference.”
“You are convinced then? You have no doubt of this change in identity?”
Hanley spoke thoughtfully. “There are things that might be explained away—forgotten memories and changes in appetite, fashion, or preference—but the scar cannot be overlooked. It was there, and now it is gone. It must surely mean I am correct, and Harris knows that. He only wishes to exercise caution.”
“That is all well and good for him. It is not his wife who is at the mercy of a madman.”
They walked down the street. “We cannot go rushing in there like lunatics. Let us form a plan. If he will go with me, that will do well enough for tonight. I shall get him as drunk as I can, and try to pull a confession out of him. If he will not come with me willingly, then we shall need another idea.”
“Such as?”
The two men were interrupted by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had come out of his father’s house and jogged towards them. “Darcy, what are you planning?”
“What makes you think I am planning anything?” Darcy hoped his affected look of guilelessness would pass muster.
Fitzwilliam chuckled. “I have known you your entire life. I could see you planned to retrieve Elizabeth even as Harris uttered his pronouncement.”
“You should also know that any attempt to stop me is futile.”
“Naturally.” Fitzwilliam gave Hanley a serious look. “Of course, for me to accompany you is against the order of my superiors, so I shall not. Alas, you have both tricked me into thinking we would visit a public house, and now I find myself tugged along against my will.”
“Very well.” Darcy smiled, pleased to have his cousin at his side. “Let our tugging commence.”