Chapter 31
The seaside, Darcy was certain, would be good for his sister. It needed to be, for the pall of melancholy hung over her. Georgiana had left school, eager to learn but driven to tears by the cruelty of other girls. Their father, distracted by estate issues that seemed to force his attendance at Pemberley or in Scotland, confessed he was unable to understand the mind of a young girl and turned to Darcy to manage Georgiana’s education. Darcy had been fortunate to find his sister skilled masters and a warm, intelligent, and attentive companion in Mrs Annesley, and to have his aunts avail themselves to help guide the shy girl. Her disfigurement was less pronounced than it had been as a babe, thanks to the skilled hands of a surgeon, but she would always have a scar marring her bow lips.
Perfection is dull, he told himself—and Georgiana, whenever she was melancholy about her appearance. It is our flaws and errors which give us depth and make us interesting.
Now she was fifteen, and although lonely, eager to see a little more of the world beyond Derbyshire, Kent, and London. Georgiana was to go to Ramsgate and enjoy the sights and sea air. Darcy joined her in her sitting room the day before her departure. “I am sending Reeves with you, of course.”
“But I have my abigail and Mrs Annesley.”
Darcy took her hand and guided her to her sofa; he called for Mrs Annesley to join them. “It is time for you to fully understand not who you are but what you are in the eyes of those with dishonourable intentions.”
He sighed, not wishing to frighten her away from venturing out into society or from making new acquaintances. He certainly did not want to paint all of society in a bad light, even if much of it was beneath the moral standards instilled in him by his father. “I know you have read some novels,” Darcy began, “and their tales of villains and endangered heiresses is based on some truths.”
Gently, he explained the questionable behaviours of peers, and the rogues and ne’er-do-wells who inveigled their way into innocent girls’ hearts, vowing love, romance, and all that followed, including the ruin of entire families, as the sin of a fallen sister contaminated all her relatives equally, and the casting out of the victim by her family because of social shunning.
When he finished, Georgiana stared wide-eyed, her handkerchief wrinkled and damp from the agitation of her hands. “How shall I ever believe a man is sincere in his interests?” she asked. “Look at me. It is surely not my beauty which will draw a gentleman to me—I am hideous.”
“You are a gift from God.” He tapped her nose.
“You are too good.”
“As are you, sweetling.” Darcy paused, touched by the trust in his innocent sister’s expression, before adding one more caution. “Some men turn to robbery and burglary. Others are so truly desperate, they attempt kidnapping women or children to earn ransoms.”
Georgiana gasped. “Yes, I have read of such things in my novels.”
It disgusted him. Kidnapping was a misdemeanour under common law. The guilty, if captured, were liable to be fined at the very worst. Without the deterrence of a felony classification and its severe punishments, debt-ridden estate owners or tradesmen would hire thugs to abduct and hold unprotected heiresses. The ensuing threat of scandalous compromise would lead to marriage and unrestricted access to the woman’s fortune.
He was careful not to say too much, only to caution Georgiana yet again to be aware of new acquaintances who seemed too eager and never to wander away alone from their lodgings. “Much as I may fear your being importuned—what elder brother to a beautiful young girl would not—our Mrs Annesley has assured me of your intelligence and your understanding of what being a Darcy means.”
“I shall be careful, and would entertain no one without your presence!”
“Indeed.” He kissed her hand and stood. “And Sergeant Reeves shall ensure that you never have to consider such.”
Georgiana exited Ramsgate’s circulating library ahead of Reeves, who held open the door. She thought his regard for her safety excessive, but she would never gainsay her brother. After all, she did in fact feel safer in Reeves’s presence. From the corner of her eye, she observed someone duck back into the alley across the street from where they exited the library. She stopped and pivoted, putting Mrs Annesley’s back in that direction, and continued their conversation. Seconds later, a woman peeked out from the building’s corner. Georgiana lowered her eyes and remained still.
“Miss Darcy?” asked Mrs Annesley.
Georgiana knew what to do. Her brother had warned her, and his cautions were warranted. She peered back over her shoulder.
“Mr Reeves, I fear I am in danger,” she whispered. The perfection of a seaside summer immediately evaporated. She longed for Fitzwilliam and Pemberley.
He said little, but immediately guided them back to Lady Catherine’s Ramsgate cottage, where he locked all the doors and checked the windows. “It’d be nice if you kept the miss busy, ma’am,” he said to Mrs Annesley.
“What shall you do, Mr Reeves?” asked Mrs Annesley.
“Dismantle the threat, ma’am.”
Three days later, Darcy leapt off his horse and tossed the reins at the waiting stable boy. “Walk him. Rub him down.” He tossed the lad a coin.
Entering the inn, the proprietor bowed deeply. “Your party awaits you in the Gull Room, sir. To our left.” Darcy pushed aside his exhaustion. Georgiana’s welfare is primary.
Darcy walked through the thin haze; an open window permitted sea air to freshen the common room. Tallow was cheaper than wax. He entered a private room to find Reeves and another man. Although the room smelled of food and spirits, the table was empty.
Reeves stood. “Darcy, Roark.”
Darcy tilted his head as a thought coalesced. “You are my uncle’s man.”
“At your service, Mr Darcy.”
“I regret our preparations for such an affair were necessary,” Darcy said. “How is my sister?”
“Miss Darcy is safe and protected.”
“And the maid Georgiana spied?”
“Ruthie. I followed her to her partner,” replied Roark.
“Who is?”
“Wickham.”
Damnation.“Wickham has chosen the wrong family to importune.”
”We could just toss his corpse into the sea. He’d be gone for good,” offered Reeves.
“I will not have a death, however just, on my hands. Remove him from these shores.”
“A bad penny may return,” observed Roark.
Darcy shook his head impatiently. He wished to see his sister. “My cousin Fitzwilliam would agree with you, but with your plan, I do not believe so.”
“What’d you say, Hammer?” asked Roark.
“Fine by me,” replied Reeves.
George Wickham awoke to a rag being stuffed into his mouth and his arms held against his sides. He tried to kick, but that gesture failed as well. Two men stood above him. He squirmed, but stopped when a hard object slammed into his hip. He grunted in response to the pain.
“Rise and shine,” said the first man.
“Wiggle a toe,” said the second.
Wickham recognised the voices of the Seven Dials. “You have it wrong,” he shouted as best he could through the grimy rag.
“You’re going for a ride, Georgie boy.”
They threw him into the back of a cart and covered him with a blanket. He bounced at every road rut, and held his arms tightly against his ribs. Soon enough, he smelled the sea. The cart stopped, the blanket disappeared, and he was hit by a gust of salty air. He saw a ship’s mast and grunted. “No...”
Several men with batons in their hands stood behind his two kidnappers. One man held chains.
“Good-bye, Georgie,” said the first man, a milk-white scar running through one of his eyes.
“Time for you to go, boy,” said the second, a black eyepatch on his face.
They clamped chains on his ankles and wrists, then removed his gag.
“Who? Why?”
“Darcy wishes you a bon voyage,” said the first man.
“Hammer and Anvil warn you to ne’er come back,” threatened the second.
“No, no, no, no, no!” screamed Wickham.
Two other men stepped towards him, grabbed him roughly, and carried him onto the ship, where they rudely deposited him on the deck.