“But Darcy needs to survive until then,” Richard said grimly. “He must be informed, and guards assigned.” Richard would go to Pemberley as well. No matter what Padgett ordered.
“This would be an excellent opportunity to capture an untold number of ill-doers,” Padgett said quietly, once more cutting into Richard’s churning thoughts.
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “You mean to use Darcy as bait.”
“No. Mr. Darcy is ensconced in Pemberley and shows no sign of leaving there. I wish to use you as bait. You, Fitzwilliam, are going to pretend to be your cousin.”
Though pleased with the notion of taking the burden of danger off Darcy, Richard shook his head. “It will never work. We do not look at all alike. Furthermore, Darcy will never agree.”
But Padgett was shaking his head as well. He slid a folder across his desk. “Not here in London. We have found an estate for rent in a corner of Hertfordshire obscure enough for no one there to know Mr. Darcy by face, if even by name, yet within easy travel of the city. We may also assume he is not known to most, if any, of those who will be lured by the promise of ten thousand pounds to seek his demise. The house is highly defensible, and the grounds open and expansive. Easily guarded. You will be perfectly safe.”
Richard doubted that, but it was not his safety about which he cared. “Why would even a fabricated Darcy lease an estate in some backwater in Hertfordshire when he has Pemberley?”
A wolfish smile sharpened Padgett’s features. “He would not, but Mr. Charles Bingley would, and will, once it is made clear to him that doing so is his way of thanking us for not dragging his family name through the mud last summer.”
“I thought the Crown’s ‘thank you’ was taking possession of his uncles’ business and assets.”
“We require one more, small, additional compensation, in the form of Mr. Bingley letting this estate.” Padgett leaned across the desk to tap the folder, which Richard had not taken up. “Netherfield Park.”
“And then inviting me there, as Darcy?” Richard mulled the idea over. It could work. “Will Bingley be there alone? His younger sister is usually hostess to him. She knows Darcy as well.”
“I am certain that Mr. Bingley’s sisters can be made to join in the charade.”
“They will be in danger as well.”
Padgett’s features hardened. “Then they should have taken more note of what their uncles were doing and put a stop to it.”
That seemed hardly fair to Richard. Miss Bingley and the other sister… Mrs. Hurst, was it? …could hardly be expected to attend to a business their brother had sold off at the urging of his elders when they were all still children. But he doubted Padgett truly cared about such nuances.
“We have before us a grand opportunity, Fitzwilliam. The most disreputable elements of London will be lured in by Wickham’s promise of ten thousand pounds. Why, I could not have crafted a better trap had I set out to do so.”
“Yes, a fine opportunity,” Richard said dryly. With him as bait and several innocent people put in harm’s way. “Need I remind you of my other objection? Darcy will never agree to this. He abhors pretense.”
“Quite frankly, Mr. Darcy need not know. He shows no sign of departing Pemberley. I doubt any of those with whom he corresponds, your relations for the most part, care enough as to his location to make mention of hearing he is in Hertfordshire, but of course we will read his letters before he does, to be certain. Any that threaten our plan will go missing until December. Meanwhile, you and Mr. Bingley will put out that Mr. Darcyintends to join him in Hertfordshire, making certain to mention it often and in public. It is a solid plan.”
Richard frowned. It was a solid plan. Too many moving parts for his taste, but all of them controllable, with care. Still, he did not like the idea of deceiving Darcy, or of putting Bingley and his relations in danger.
“Lastly,” Padgett said crisply, “I will remind you that you do not have an actual choice in this matter.”
“Then you are ordering me to go to Hertfordshire and pretend to be my cousin?”
“I am afraid I am.”
Richard battered down his dismay. “Very well, sir.”
“Excellent. I will have Mr. Bingley informed of his role.” Padgett’s wolfish grin returned. “I expect this to be a very worthwhile venture. Criminals taken into custody, Fitzwilliam. That is the goal, and when November ends, we will have Mr. Wickham as well.”
November… Depending on when they could bring Bingley to Hertfordshire, two or three months of pretense. Richard could manage that. Especially to keep Darcy out of danger, and to prevent George Wickham from getting his hands on Pemberley. More than that, if Wickham did hang…well, since no rumor had surfaced about Georgiana’s union with the man, she would be free. A widow at sixteen and in possession of a terrible secret, but families had kept worse secrets. Georgiana could rebuild her life.
Richard nodded, accepting the task put to him. “Yes, sir. Criminals apprehended and the law-abiding kept safe.” And hopefully, finally, an end to Wickham’s increasingly unbearable torment.
Darcy studied the letter he held, frowning. Bingley’s entire tone, what was decipherable with his horrendous penmanship, was odd. Blathering, if Darcy were being honest. Had his friend been deep in his cups when he’d penned the missive? If he didn’t know better, Darcy would accuse Bingley of trying to cover up a lie.
But a lie about what? Bingley’s letter went on inanely about trivialities. The only matter of substance was that he had leased a property in Hertfordshire. Darcy was a bit hurt not to have been asked his opinion on the estate, Netherfield Park being the inauspicious name, but he understood why Bingley hadn’t consulted him. For the past year, Darcy had been holed up in Pemberley. Hiding, in truth. Keeping both him and Georgiana safe from the prying eyes of the ton.
With a sigh, Darcy dropped Bingley’s letter to his desk. He worried for Georgiana yet knew no way to help her. She drifted through life as a sunken shadow of the girl she’d been. She completed her lessons but never called on anyone, even though no one seemed to have any hint of her shame.
That, at least, was a relief. And a shock, were Darcy being honest. Wickham had so far kept his word, if only for the power the threat of telling held over them.
