“Mr Wickham, sir, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have gone out. They left an instruction for you to await their return in the drawing room.”
Thinking he had not heard properly, he rubbed his eyes and focused them on the footman again. “They want me to await them where? Guarded, I suppose, or is Fitzwilliam trying to set me up for a capture as I flee justice? Oh, yes, the blue drawing room, the one with the large open window to the garden! Does he take me for a fool?”
“Sir,” the footman ignored his protests and gestured to his side, “Mr Darcy has sent you some fresh attire and the services of Mr Wilson, in case you require any assistance.”
Wickham sighed. “Very well, Darcy, I shall cooperate. The drawing room is far more comfortable than this one, at the least.”
Chapter sixty-five
“There,suh.Tha’swhere‘e ‘ad me bring the note from th’other chap.”
Darcy looked up to the shaded windows. If there was any light burning within, it was not visible from where he stood on the street. He glanced at his cousin. Richard’s blood was up, his fists balled, and he was enraged beyond recall. There was no point in asking the seasoned military man what he advised, for all thought of reason and tactics had fled his cousin’s mind.
Darcy gestured to Woods. “You had an errand you were to undertake. See your note delivered, and then return to us.”
Woods tried to conceal his doubtful expression, but did as he had bidden. As they watched him climb the steps to the flat, Darcy spoke lowly. “Richard, what do you hope to achieve here tonight?”
Richard’s nostrils curled in restrained anger. “If you fear that I will kill the blighter, you needn’t. I have killed enough men; the savour of victory is bitter when another man’s blood is on your hands. We collect him in his sleep, and drag him before the nearest regiment of the militia.”
Darcy looked back to the shaded windows. “If you intended to remove him by force, we ought to have brought two or three footmen.”
Richard grinned in the darkness. “We can manage.”
They waited in silence for Woods to return. When he did, he bore an expression of helpless resignation. “No answer, suh. I ‘eard somethin’, but none came to the door. I left the note under it, in case ‘e’s there, suh. May I go now?”
Darcy withdrew a fat little purse and began to hand it to him. “One word; Miss Dinah will be employed honourably at Darcy house, so long as she comports herself with dignity and is not found to be compromised by any connections to criminal activity. I must exhort you, sir, to also seek honest work. Naturally, you would not wish to jeopardise her chances.”
Woods accepted the bag of coins, slowly cradling them into his palm and then slipping them into a deep pocket. “Aye, suh,” he mumbled, then he turned and was gone.
Richard was shaking his head. “You cannot mend every man, Darcy.”
“No, but I can salvage that one. Shall we?” he gestured toward the flat.
Richard jerked his head in satisfaction. “I thought you would never ask.”
They listened for a moment at the door, trying to discern what was taking place. There was a scraping sound, a frantic clatter, and then a Portuguese oath. Darcy quirked a brow, and both stood back. At a signal from Richard, they charged together, throwing their shoulders against the door at the same time.
A single candle burned in one corner, rendering the room dusky and shadowed. Just to the right, Vasconcelos crouched with a small trunk full of papers. He still clutched a few in his hand as he recognised them, then the papers slipped from his grasp and he straightened.
“Fitzwilliam,” he half-smiled, then his eyes lit on Darcy. It was clear that he struggled for the first instant to match him as he appeared now to the bedraggled prisoner he had kept, but then his face set grimly. “So, have you come to return what is mine, or do you think to seek revenge?”
“Neither,” Darcy answered disinterestedly. “Please collect your belongings at once. You are to accompany us.”
“To what purpose, Senhor Darcy? We both know that your courts would do nothing to me but send me back to Portugal, which is where I am bound this very night.”
“I would have your testimony before you depart. You will tell me the location of the Viscount Matlock, as well as give me a sworn statement that will be presented to the general in command of the troops in Porto.”
Vasconcelos laughed. “You believe somehow that I will be censured? You have no influence there.”
Darcy flicked a glance at Richard. “I do not, but a well-respected officer with connections to the military hierarchy in Lisbon and Porto most certainly does. What will become of your family honour when the evidence of your depravity becomes known among your fellow countrymen?”
“And what shall become of yours, when all is revealed? I think you must reconsider your demand, for you will both be denounced as frauds, cheats, and bastards.”
Richard laughed and crossed his arms. “Ah, yes, this scandalous secret! What is it you think is so important that we could never withstand a sixty-year-old revelation?”
Vasconcelos bent to collect some papers and began leafing through them nonchalantly. “Nothing short of the parentage of the earl of Matlock and George Darcy.” He sneered, his eyes still on his papers. “English women are whores.”
Vasconcelos found himself suddenly jerked from his feet and thrown upon the bed, with Colonel Fitzwilliam pinning him down. “Speak another such vile falsehood, and I will rip out your tongue!” he snarled.
