Chapter Sixteen
By the time Darcy, Elizabeth and Lydia arrived at the Customs Office, the drizzle had deteriorated into heavy, driving rain.
The office itself was a neat wood-clad building on the harbour side, and the rain mixed with spray from the sea so that it felt as though the elements themselves were attacking the small group as they huddled together and made their way towards the door.
Darcy gathered the two women close as he wrenched it open, and they stumbled into the offices in a damp and dishevelled crowd.
Several clerks seated at benches looked up in astonishment at the finely dressed but thoroughly soggy trio who had interrupted their work. One boy, who could have been no more than sixteen or seventeen, stood quickly and tugged nervously at his waistcoat.
"May I help you, sir? Ladies?" he asked, nodding to each of them in turn.
"I need to speak to the senior officer in command here. Immediately," Darcy said in his most commanding master-of-Pemberley voice. "My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I must speak to him about my daughter."
That appeared to have the desired effect. They were shown without delay into a room at the back of the building, where a fire crackled merrily in the grate and a man of around sixty with white-grey hair and an impressively full moustache stood to greet them.
"Mr Darcy. Mrs Darcy. Mrs Bennet." He bowed to each of them. "I am very sorry we are not meeting in happier circumstances. Please, will you sit? Can I send for some refreshments? Tea, perhaps?"
"No, thank you," Elizabeth said kindly but firmly. "As you must understand, we are very anxious to discover what has happened to our daughter."
"Of course." He motioned for them to sit.
The man had a kindly face that reminded Darcy a little of his own father in his later years, with warm amber eyes behind steel-rimmed spectacles, but Darcy had no time for such reflections or, indeed, niceties of any sort. He opened his mouth to speak but realised he did not have the man's name.
"Collector Brown," the older man supplied with a firm nod as he took the seat behind his desk. He sat very straight, his shoulders square despite his age. He had the look of a man who had spent much of his life in military service.
"Collector Brown. It is good of you to see us, but I will not keep you with pleasantries. I urgently wish to find my daughter. From what I understand, she may have been set upon by a local smuggling gang while in the company of one Captain Harwood. What can you tell me?"
Brown offered no further niceties in return.
Instead, he provided a clipped overview of Silas Trevethan and his suspected activities.
"As slippery as an eel, that one. We have long suspected that he sits at the centre of much of the smuggling activity in and around Falmouth, but nobody has ever managed to pin anything directly upon him.
Captain Harwood has been making covert enquiries on our behalf, and, as it was not widely known that he was working with this office, he has been able to glean rather more information than we have managed through ordinary channels. "
"And his instructions last night?" Darcy asked.
"To observe. Nothing more. We needed a reliable witness to some underhand activity before my men could take more direct action.
Captain Harwood believed there might be movement at the harbour during the night and intended to watch Trevethan's men.
" Brown paused, looking directly at Darcy.
"And I hope I am not speaking out of turn when I say that Harwood is a very good man.
A brave man, with a distinguished naval career behind him, and his service to this office has been exemplary.
If he is with your daughter, Mr Darcy, he will protect her with his life if necessary. "
Elizabeth let out a little cry beside him and Darcy reached immediately for her hand, grasping it tightly. He did not particularly care for the phrase with his life, which indicated a very real threat to his daughter's life, but the conviction with which Brown had spoken offered some small comfort.
"That is reassuring," Elizabeth said, although her voice shook. "But you must understand that we shall not rest easy until our daughter is back in our care."
"I understand entirely, Mrs Darcy. We have men searching every property we know to be connected with Trevethan, and others are watching the roads and harbour. If they are still in Falmouth, we mean to find them."
"You had better," Darcy said grimly.
Brown opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment the same young clerk who had greeted them rushed into the room without knocking.
His face was blotchy from exertion. "Collector, I am very sorry to burst in unannounced, but one of the men at the quay was handed...
" He stopped to catch his breath and held out a small bundle. "I think you ought to see this."
Brown took it from him and glanced at the writing on the front. His expression darkened immediately. "I believe this is for you, sir."
Darcy stood as Brown passed the packet across the desk. The name on the front had been printed in a plain, nondescript hand.
Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
The packet itself was bound with a length of dirty ivory ribbon.
Lydia gasped and clutched her hands to her chest.
"What is it?" Elizabeth asked.
"That ribbon." Lydia had gone very pale.
"Bella wore it in her hair at dinner. I know she did.
We spent half the afternoon pulling ribbons and lace from that gown because she said it made her look like an over-decorated wedding cake.
But she thought the ribbon was pretty and I suggested we save some for her hair.
" She reached towards it but stopped short of touching it. "That is Bella's."
Darcy's fingers tightened around the packet.
He traced the length of the ribbon wound around the papers.
His daughter had touched it and they had ripped it from her.
If they had so much as harmed a hair on her head, he would kill them, happily with a song in his heart and not care whatsoever for the state of his immortal soul.
He untied the ribbon with shaking fingers.
Mr Darcy,
Your daughter, Miss Arabella Darcy of Pemberley, is presently in my care. She is quite unharmed and will remain so provided you act with good sense.
Darcy angled the page so that Elizabeth could read the words written there.
All Customs activity in and around Falmouth harbour is to cease at eight o'clock tomorrow evening and remain suspended for the following twenty-four hours.
There are to be no searches of warehouses, vessels or cargo during that time, and no interference with any ship entering or leaving the harbour.
At the conclusion of that period, the sum of twenty thousand pounds is to be placed in a leather case and left beneath the old stone arch on Penryn Road at nine o'clock the same evening.
The money is to be provided in Bank of England notes and sovereigns, in denominations that may be easily transported.
You will come alone, leave the case where instructed and depart immediately.
If I have been permitted to conduct my business unmolested for those twenty-four hours, and the payment is found to be in order, you will receive word of where your daughter may be found.
Any attempt to disregard these terms, involve additional authorities or interfere with my business will place your daughter's safety in peril.
I have no quarrel with Miss Darcy. Whether she remains unharmed is entirely in your hands.
Yours,
A concerned citizen of Falmouth
There was no signature. "Twenty thousand pounds," Elizabeth whispered as she read over his shoulder. She passed the letter to Lydia who read it hurriedly and offered the note to Collector Brown.
"He can have it," Darcy said immediately. "Every penny. There is a branch of my bank in Truro, I think. I can have the money brought here."
"Darcy, you cannot give in to such a bully," Lydia began, but he shook his head.
"He can have twice that if he wishes. I do not care. He could have Pemberley if it meant she were safe." His voice cracked as he spoke the final words.
Brown's expression had become grave. "The money is only part of what he is asking for, sir. And if I may be so bold, a man who finds he can extract twenty thousand pounds from you may very well decide he would like more. Very much more."
Darcy's jaw tightened. "That is my concern. But what else can I do?"
"The rest is mine." Brown tapped one finger against Trevethan's letter. "He is asking this office to withdraw from the harbour entirely. I cannot simply order my men to look the other way while contraband passes beneath their noses."
"And why the devil not?"
"Because I am an officer of the Crown, Mr Darcy.
" Brown's tone remained calm, but there was steel beneath it now.
"I have given my word to discharge the duties of this office and protect His Majesty's revenue.
I have no authority to suspend the law because a criminal demands it of me, however much I may sympathise with your position. "
Darcy stood and leaned over the desk, his face tight with rage. "My daughter is being held by a criminal! Is her life not worth more than a few guineas in the government’s coffers?"
Brown did not flinch. "I know that, sir, and I assure you I have no intention of treating her safety lightly.
But if I openly stand my men down, Trevethan may move half the contraband on the French coast through Falmouth freely, and there is no guarantee whatsoever that he will return your daughter afterwards.
Quite the contrary. Once he knows his threats have worked, he has every reason to make another. "
Darcy stared at him. "Then what do you suggest? That I refuse him and hope he does not harm her?"
"No. I suggest that we make him believe he is getting what he wants while we find another way to bring Miss Darcy and Captain Harwood home. My men will act with discretion, but we will not stop searching for your daughter and the captain, nor observing and checking the activities of the port."
"William." Elizabeth's quiet voice reached him before he could answer. She touched his arm, her fingers curling around his sleeve. "He is right about one thing. We cannot trust this man."
Darcy wanted to scream. He wanted to take Brown by his ridiculous moustache and inform him just what would happen if his daughter were harmed while the Customs office concerned itself with brandy and cigars.
Instead, he looked down at his feet and saw for the first time that another, much smaller piece of paper had fallen to the floor.
He knew the handwriting before he had fully opened it.
Papa and Mama,
I am safe.
The very same message he had discovered beneath her pillow more than a week ago, although that morning now seemed to belong to some other lifetime. Darcy pressed his lips together and continued.
Captain Harwood is with me, and we have not been harmed. Please do not be frightened for me. I know that is a ridiculous thing to ask and that you will both be frightened anyway, but I am quite well. Papa, please do not do anything rash.
A strange sound escaped Elizabeth, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, while Lydia covered her mouth with both hands and whispered, "Oh, Bella." Darcy felt the smallest pull at the corner of his own mouth. Of all the things his daughter might have written while being held for ransom.
He read on.
I am very sorry. I know I have caused you both more worry than any daughter has a right to cause her parents, and when I am home you may scold me for as long as you please.
This time Elizabeth did laugh, although tears were streaming freely down her cheeks. "She must be well," Lydia said quickly. "Bella could not possibly write that if she were not herself."
Darcy could not answer. He ran his thumb across the familiar handwriting, noticing that the letters were less neat than usual and that there was a dark smudge across one corner.
But it was unquestionably Bella. His little girl had held this paper in her hands.
She had been alive and well enough to write it, and even frightened and held against her will, she was still worrying about the distress she had caused them.
Elizabeth leaned into him and placed one hand over his where it held the note. Together they read the final lines.
I love you both very much,
Bella.
Darcy read the note twice more before carefully folding the note along its existing creases and slipping it into the inside pocket of his coat.
He wanted it close to him. It was ridiculous, perhaps, but the knowledge that his daughter had touched that little scrap of paper made him reluctant to let it go.
"She is alive," he said at last, and Elizabeth nodded, wiping quickly at her damp cheeks. It was more than they had known an hour ago, and for the first time since Lydia had told them Bella was missing, Darcy felt as though he could draw a full breath.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into his. "And she has Captain Harwood with her. From everything Mr Brown has told us, I think we may be grateful for that."
Darcy looked towards the Collector. He did not much like being grateful to any man for protecting his daughter, particularly one he had never met, but there was no denying the truth of it. "Then we find them both."
"We will," Elizabeth said.
Darcy squeezed her hand before turning back to Brown.
"I understand that I cannot order you to abandon your duty, and I will not interfere with your men.
But neither will I sit quietly at Lydia's house and wait for news.
I know nothing of smuggling or the workings of this harbour, but I have money, men and influence at my disposal, and I intend to make use of all three.
If there is anything I can do to assist your search, you will tell me. "
Brown studied him for a moment before giving a slow nod. "Very well, Mr Darcy. There may indeed be ways in which you can help without alerting Trevethan to our interest."
"Good." Darcy glanced towards Elizabeth. "Then we begin now."
Elizabeth's expression softened, and she stepped closer until their shoulders touched. "Together."
He brought her hand to his lips and held it there for a moment. There had been a time, many years ago, when Darcy had believed himself most useful when he acted alone and relied upon no one. Marriage to Elizabeth had thoroughly disabused him of that notion.
His hand settled over the pocket containing Bella's letter. She was alive. Somewhere in Falmouth she was waiting for them. Darcy intended to make certain she did not wait long.