Unfortunately, his exhaustion forced him to dismount for the day much earlier than he might have liked and far sooner than would have been possible in a proper carriage or for a hardened rider. Thus, he was still just under two full days from Pemberley when he drew up at a small coaching inn for the night. He wearily applied for a room and a meal and drew himself into the darkest corner of the long board to wait. A private room would have been preferable, but Darcy had reasoned that taking one would make him the more conspicuous, not the less, and so he retreated as far as he could in the large open room and tried to adopt the air of the most ordinary of men.
Some while later, another traveler staggered in. He approached the tap, and though Darcy could not hear his voice, his gestures spoke of urgent requests for a drink and bed. Darcy caught an accidental glimpse of the horse he had left outside just before the door closed again, and the poor beast looked to be wrung with sweat and still breathing hard. His rider seemed to be faring little better, wavering where he stood. He was slight of build and not tall, his speech and clothing marking him as one of the lower denizens of London, rather than a country oaf such as one usually saw in these parts.
Darcy narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to catch another glimpse through the window of the traveler’s horse as the groom led it past in the growing dusk. A thoroughbred, and a fine one, too. Certainly, it was no hired post horse, but a gentleman’s mount, and probably not one accustomed to such riding.
How could this rough fellow have obtained such a creature? It seemed unlikely that anyone would dare march in to a public inn on a stolen horse, but the cost of the animal would have been far beyond the means of most. Perhaps the man was on a mission for some patron or master, but he would never have countenanced one of his own emissaries treating his horses in such a fashion, nor would he have lent one of his fine mounts for the task. Darcy sighed and let his curiosity rest when a greasy platter dropped before him for his meal.
He picked at his food—not for lack of appetite, for he was famished from his travels, and no longer above even the admittedly humble efforts of the inn’s cook. His dark eyes roved the room as he tried to eat, the food forming a lump in his throat every time another glanced in his direction. He considered taking it to his room to eat in privacy, but the stifling confines of whatever dark chamber had been assigned to him for the night were not to be borne a moment longer than necessary. Indeed, half his nights he had spent pacing the stable yard or even sitting upright in one of the private drawing rooms, once they had been abandoned by paying customers for the night.
Darcy swallowed another tasteless bite—it might as well have been sawdust—and at last thrust his plate aside. A fashionably dressed couple caught his eye as they walked up to their room for the night, the gentleman taking a folded bit of newspaper from his lady to unburden her hands. He left it carelessly on the board near Darcy’s elbow, assuming some other traveler would also wish to read the headlines.
Darcy lifted a brow. It was the Society pages, always popular with the ladies. It was a publication he typically abhorred, but surely much must have occurred in his absence. With a mixture of curiosity and boredom, he flipped the pages open.
Lord Ashby was removing from London to Bath, and letting out his country estate to some retired naval admiral. Small surprise there. Lady Blackthorne was at last engaged to marry again—a relief, he decided.
His eyes scanned down banal announcements and gossip until they locked in horror on one particular entry. Stunned, he read the lines thrice over, until his hands had involuntarily crumpled the entire paper in rage.Georgiana and Richard to marry!
All the room turned to stare at him as he stumbled clumsily to his feet, shaking in fury. Betrayed by Richard! After all his staunch defence of his cousin to that cursed Vasconcelos, to return home and be slapped by the cold truth of it all! Richard who had ultimately stabbed him in the back, Richard who had orchestrated his “demise,” Richard who now controlled Georgiana and Pemberley, and Richard who had charmed Elizabeth into coming to Derbyshire to sway his sister—what lies had he toldher?
Darcy hurtled through the front door of the inn, wishing to be far from human eyes. A horse! He needed a horse, and immediately, to gallop away his frustrations and race instantly to Pemberley. It was not too late! The wedding had not yet taken place; it was only the engagement that had been announced. Instantly, he cursed himself for a fool—he had not checked the date on the top of the paper, and did not dare make another appearance indoors to search for it.
His teeth were set into a terrifying snarl when he approached the stable to demand a mount in the middle of the night. He cared not if it were in the dark—his vision was black with fury anyway, and if his horse took a fall, perhaps it would end his torment.Except then, his nostrils curled in contempt,Richard truly would have no one to stop him!How inconvenient for Richard if Darcy presented himself at Pemberley, very much alive and spitting vengeance!
He had to kick a snoring stable boy to wake him. The boy had tumbled into the straw at the feet of the exhausted horse ridden in by that late traveler, and Darcy, still shaking his savage ire, paused a moment to rest a hand on the poor beast. He would need a clear head, and stroking dog or horse had always held the power to calm him in the moment.
At once, his eyes narrowed. He lifted the forelock of the horse to examine its marking, then bent to look over the rest of the animal. Half sock on the left hind, small white circle on the right fore coronet…. This was his horse! It was one of the young hunters he had in training last summer—a promising jumper, if Darcy’s trial rides were any indication. What the devil was it doing here, ridden like a common hack by a mad urchin? The poor horse jerked its head away in protest, and Darcy realised his fingers had clenched painfully through its forelock. He released it with an apologetic pat.
Darcy gave terse orders to the stable boy that he would ridethishorse, and no other, exerting his claim of ownership. The lad protested, as was only right, that the horse required rest, but Darcy was too shaken to hear of it. He would lead the animal, if that was what he must do, but he was putting a stop to the plundering of all that was his. And now, for the horse thief himself!
Darcy’s mind spun, alive now to what he had not noticed earlier. How could he have not recognised it? He had seen that rat once before!
He stormed back within the inn, unconscious of how his frame seemed to have grown a full six inches to the awed spectators. Where before they had scarcely bothered to notice the modest gentleman who kept quietly to himself, now they beheld a man of some great account, seething in wrath before them. Darcy searched the stunned onlookers until he beheld the cowering little man in the back, just ducking behind a bar stool.“You!”
The man leapt up and tried to dart away like a frightened rabbit, but the innkeeper intercepted him. Darcy was clearly a man of power and import, and such a man’s patronage was far more valuable than one ragged traveler. Darcy was upon the man in an instant, collaring him and dragging him out the door.
“Don’ ‘urt me, suh!” the coward yelped through his broken teeth, kicking and straining at the clothing Darcy gripped. “’T’weren’t my fault, suh! Whatever ye want, it were Jakes wha’ did it!”
Darcy dragged the fellow back toward the stables and flung him on the ground—or rather, on a carriage-sized mound somewhat softer than earth and undoubtedly warmer. The man complained, but did not dare roll away, for Darcy had leaned threateningly low. “Do you know me?” he demanded.
The man took several seconds to verify what he saw, the voice he heard, then his eyes widened even further. His mouth fell open helplessly.
“The docks! Do you know me?” Darcy bellowed.
The man nodded wordlessly, as little whimpers trembled from his throat.
“You were working for someone! Tell me his name!”
“I don’ know, suh! Jakes, it were ‘e what talked to the gen’l’man. A dandy, ‘e said, ‘e never gave ‘is name. I swear it suh, tha’s a’ I know!”
“And what did they pay you?”
“I—I got a ‘alf crown. Tha’s a’!”
“And spent it on your whore, no doubt. Was she a part of your scheme too, to distract me while you came from behind to strike?”
The man’s mouth dropped open again and he spread his hands. “Dinah? She’s too ‘igh and mighty fer the likes o’ me now, she says. A fine job o’ settin’ ‘er up yo’ did, suh.”
Darcy shook his head and held up a hand. “What I must know immediately is why you ride from the north as if the fires of hell rode behind you. You come from Pemberley, if I am not mistaken.”
