Twenty-Five
Ashbourne
She unfolded the letter once more as the carriage drew to a halt some distance from the cottage. Though she had read it repeatedly since it had arrived, she found herself compelled to examine it again, as though another reading might expose some deception she had previously overlooked.
“Madam,
I heard from Wickham again, though he has proved more troublesome than ever before. During Mr. Darcy's absence from Pemberley, he claims one of his acquaintances succeeded in obtaining certain papers from the house, papers which he believes would ruin the Darcys were their contents ever made known.
News has now reached him that Mr. Darcy has unexpectedly returned to Hertfordshire.
The intelligence has greatly unsettled him.
He fears that Mr. Darcy may already have discovered the loss and, having seen him in Meryton after so many years, may begin to suspect his involvement.
He therefore refuses to entrust the papers to another, or even commit their nature to writing, insisting they must pass only from his own hand.
He has therefore taken refuge at the White Hart Inn and refuses to stir until he has spoken with you.
He says he will make his way to the cottage near Ashbourne and remain there until six o'clock on the evening of the ninth, after which he will wait no longer should you fail to come.
He likewise insists that the sum promised him for the completion of his services be brought with you, else he will dispose of the papers as he sees fit.
I have reasoned with him to no effect. He will trust no one but you.
M. Younge.”
She folded the letter with deliberate care and slipped it back into her reticule.
"Are you certain, madam?" the man opposite her asked quietly.
She nodded, though not without hesitation.
"Wickham is governed by one thing above all else, money.
He would sell his own soul if the price were sufficient.
Yet he is also a coward. Should he truly believe himself in danger, he would flee beyond my reach, and however much I may despise the man, he has proved too valuable to lose. "
The man inclined his head in agreement.
"No one alive knows the Darcys better than Wickham," she continued. "To disregard his fears is to risk watching him vanish, and I have no intention of chasing him across England."
"I understand, madam."
She looked once more towards the lonely cottage standing beyond the bare winter trees. "At the very least, I shall see these papers he claims to possess. If they are as ruinous as he believes, then this wretched business may finally be brought to its proper conclusion."
The man reached for the door handle. "I shall ride ahead and ensure everything appears as it ought."
"Very good, Hale." A slow smile touched her lips. "Once and for all, we shall finish what was begun so many years ago. The Darcys shall have nothing left."
Hale stepped down from the chaise and closed the door quietly behind him.
~
Darcy
Colonel Fitzwilliam drew Darcy behind the shelter of a broad oak just as the horseman galloped past the cottage. They remained concealed while he rode beyond the house, circled back, then dismounted and disappeared inside.
Hidden amongst the bare winter shrubs, they had watched the chaise halt some distance from the cottage before the rider approached to inspect the premises.
The December afternoon had grown steadily colder whilst they waited.
A sharp wind swept across the open fields, carrying with it the damp chill of the Ashbourne hills.
Darcy had long since ceased to feel his fingers despite his gloves, yet he scarcely noticed the discomfort now.
Every thought was fixed upon the carriage standing motionless beyond the trees.
"I had wondered whether she would come," Darcy whispered.
"Of course she would," Richard replied quietly.
"The letter we sent was convincing. If nothing else, she would come to satisfy herself that all was as Wickham claimed.
" He raised his head just enough to look beyond the hedge before lowering it again.
"I confess, however, I had not expected her to be quite so cautious. "
"Thank Heavens Colonel Forster advised against waiting inside with Wickham," Darcy said. "Had that fellow entered and discovered us there, he would undoubtedly have raised alarm by now to warn her, and she would have driven away before we had the opportunity to stop her."
Colonel Forster peered towards the cottage. "Let us hope Wickham does not lose his nerve and spoil everything from within."
"He will not," Richard answered. "A man like Wickham thinks first of his own preservation. He knows his only hope lies in us."
They had reached Ashbourne the previous day, taking every precaution not to betray their presence should Mrs. Vane have anyone watching the area.
Mrs. Younge had told them the secluded cottage was one Mrs. Vane leased through an intermediary and where she had met Wickham on more than one occasion.
She believed it the only place where Mrs. Vane would feel secure enough to come in person, and thus far her judgement had proved correct.
"He is coming out again," Colonel Fitzwilliam murmured.
The three men lowered themselves once more as the horseman emerged from the cottage, mounted, and rode back towards the waiting chaise.
He dismounted beside it and climbed inside.
Though they could not hear what was said, the exchange lasted but a minute before he stepped down again and spoke briefly to the coachman.
The carriage lurched into motion.
The short distance to the cottage felt an eternity to Darcy. His pulse quickened as the horses drew to a halt before the door. He scarcely breathed, straining to catch his first clear glimpse of its occupant.
The footman descended first before turning to offer his hand.
A lady emerged, wrapped in a dark grey travelling cloak, the hood drawn about her face against the bitter wind. A small reticule hung from one gloved hand as she stepped carefully to the ground. Even at that distance, there was something unmistakable in her bearing.
Without hesitation, she turned slightly, just enough for Darcy to catch a clear glimpse of her face before she followed the footman towards the cottage. The door opened, admitting them both before closing once more.
"That is her," Darcy whispered, his pulse quickening. "She is the same woman I encountered at the Kingsleys' gathering in Ashcombe."
Richard looked towards him. "You are certain?"
"I would know her again anywhere." Darcy's gaze remained fixed upon the closed door.
"Then God grant this ends today," Colonel Forster said quietly.
Darcy did not answer.
His attention remained upon the cottage. After months of searching, of unanswered questions and unseen enemies, the woman who had orchestrated so much misery had at last walked willingly into their trap.