“No. If anything, we only risk tipping our hand to a practised gambler. Be easy, Elizabeth. Remember, he is a charmer first. He gains nothing if they are not alive and safe.” He kissed her brow. “I will not be long.”
Wickham was at the same table as before, with a dwindling pile of coins and some hard-luck players in front of him. He pretended not to notice Darcy stepping back behind the curtains, but ten minutes later, there he was. “Well, old man, how was Boston?”
Darcy took a slow drag at his brandy. “Romantic.”
Wickham snorted. “I confess, that was not the answer I expected. Not from you, at any rate.”
“I imagine there are a number of things you do not expect. Where are Mrs Bennet and her daughters?”
“Patience, Darcy. What makes you think I have them? What, you believe I have them gagged and trussed up like prisoners in some cellar? Pssh. I know where they are, though.”
Darcy could hardly conceal his contempt and foul rage, but he fought to contain it… just a little longer. “Why?” he gritted between his teeth.
“Why? I was only doing a service, old chap. You were busy. A shame about the family’s father—I wonder how it was that he was killed? One might almost suspect someone was taking revenge on him on account of his faithless daughter. A real piece of work that one was! If you ask me, you are well rid of h—”
Darcy cut him off by shooting to his feet and grabbing Wickham by the throat. “How many letters did you forge in my name? What do you mean, sending the dogs after an innocent woman with your lies?”
Wickham snarled and twisted free, then rubbed his neck. “Innocent? She is a murderess, Darcy! Oh, I tell you, Bryson paid handsomely to learn where she was. Not hard for our informants to follow a one-eyed old soldier and a pretty girl like that from port to port, even if Fitzwilliam thought he was being secretive. I fancy Bryson has found her by now and had his own satisfaction.”
Darcy’s head pounded in wrath, his veins surging hot and livid, but he checked himself. “Richard would kill anyone who tried to harm her.”
Wickham shrugged. “It may be, but Bryson was happy to pay me off, nonetheless. He was still spitting and foaming about learning she was alive when I spoke with him. Something about a portrait of her dressed in finery and looking quite the queen of all she surveyed.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “It was you who provoked the attack on Mr Bennet.”
“I? No, but I heard all about it. What, you do not think those letters were delayed by accident, do you?”
Darcy leaned ominously over the table. “I have had enough games, Wickham. Where are his wife and daughters? You had better pray they are unharmed.”
“Where are they? Not far. Unharmed? Unfortunately. If you have an ounce of sense in you, you will leave them where they are before you ever meet Mrs Bennet. Ah, but yes, the faithful lover, ever noble despite being virtually left at the altar. How does it feel to have your dreams crushed, Darcy? Every hope and desire ripped from your chest and shredded to ribbons, and you helpless even to protect what little you have left of her!”
“Thatis what this is about? Pure revenge—on me for denying you, or Elizabeth for splitting your lip?”
Wickham scoffed. “Sweet as it is to see both her and you ruined, I have other considerations. If I had only wanted revenge, I would have tossed those batty ninnies in the sea and washed my hands of it, a satisfied man. No, no, this is about keeping my head on top of my neck. Do you know how I am still alive after you cast me adrift last time? I promised Walsh a bigger prize than myself.”
“And it never occurred to you to simply vanish in America, once you had got out?”
Wickham chuckled. “Well, even I must have something to live on. My chances were better after taking my cut.”
Darcy crossed his arms and levelled a hard stare at him. “How much?”
“Oh, I am afraid it was not I who set the price this time. I tried to make him more reasonable, Darcy, but he would not go for less than 100,000 pounds. I said one flighty old woman and two senseless girls could never be worth that much, not even if I sold them on the black market, but he seemed to think we could get it from you. So, what is it to be, Darcy? Have we a bargain?”
Darcy tipped his chair back on two legs, his eyes narrowed. “100,000?”
Wickham shrugged. “It was a nice round number. I suppose if you prove unwilling, I might yet getsomethingout of the two younger girls. The mother is useless to me—in fact, I would dearly love to silence her.”
Darcy’s fist clenched under the table. “I have a better idea.”
“Do you? I hope you are not meaning to try some deception, Darcy, for we are watched every moment. And if you think I would escape with mercy again, you are quite wrong. They would cut us both down.”
“No deception. But 100,000 is more than I can access now. I would speak with Matlock.”
“Ah, yes. The unwitting brother-in-law. Clever. Sentiment for his lost brother will surely be the very thing. Very well, Darcy. Tomorrow? Here?”
“I need two days, and unless you want to be seen trading in flesh, we should meet somewhere outside the city. On the road north, I think. Be here tomorrow afternoon, and I will send you word of the place and time.”
Wickham stood and tipped his hat with that smug, hateful smile of his. “Well, then, I shall need to go out and buy a bigger purse. Be sure to come alone. Pleasant afternoon, Darcy.”
