“You are violating the rule of law.”
“Stretching it. They will have their day in court.”
“Habeas corpus was introduced to prevent detention without—”
“I know the law,” Richard snapped, his tone of entreaty vanishing. “Short of gathering a force with which to extract them, you have no means by which to enforce your will in this. I am in charge and under orders to keep these men here until December first.”
Darcy ground his teeth. Richard was correct. Unless he wished to reach out to a higher-ranking officer, Darcy had no option but to bow to his cousin’s will in this, and who would he even approach? Putting aside that such interference would do irreparable harm to Darcy’s relationship with his cousin, he had no notion how secret Richard’s mission was and who could be told without violating that trust. “And precisely how will you transport…” He peered behind Richard. Did each room hold only one man, or more? “However many men you are holding, to London?”
“I have requested a militia be deployed to Meryton. They should arrive soon. When the time comes, they will assist me and my men in escorting the prisoners.” Richard eyed him, obviously mistrusting even such a slight show of capitulation. “They are the dregs of London. They have come here with the single purpose of committing murder.”
Darcy sighed. “I am not saying they should be set free. Merely that we must uphold the law.”
“And we will. They will all have their time before a judge.” Richard’s features hardened. “I will see to that.”
“And are you torturing them in Bingley’s basement?”
“No. The most I have done is withhold food and water for a day, and that for throwing said victuals at my men, not to extort information. I am not torturing men in Bingley’s cellar.”
Darcy worked to ease his frown. As he had no actual means of imposing his will on Richard, he supposed he must, for now, be content with that. Perhaps once the militia arrived, if the officer in charge seemed amiable… Yes, that might be a solution, but for now… “I will summon Mrs. Annesley to escort Georgiana back to London. I am not comfortable having her in a house with a basement full of would-be murderers. I will recommend to Bingley that he send Miss Bingley and the Hursts away as well.”
“You mean, you will attempt to send Georgiana to London,” Richard said lightly.
“You do not believe she will go?”
“I do not. Not while you are here, in danger, because of her choices.”
“We will see.” He could order her to London, but he didn’t know if she would obey, or to what length he should go to enforce such a command. She was a man’s wife now, Darcy and Richard’s ward no longer.
“As for Bingley, I suppose if you must inform him of who I am keeping in the bowels of his residence, you must, but you will recall that Miss Bingley and the Hursts believe the scheme to be kidnapping, not murder. Only Bingley knows the truth of that. His relations may not wish to go unless informed, which may cause a certain amount of, shall we say, familial discord.”
Darcy shrugged. “If he did not want them to be angry with him, he should not have lied.”
Richard’s smile was brittle. “I will remind you of that.”
“I have not lied except when forced to do so,” Darcy said stiffly.
“What do you believe Bingley has done?”
With a frown for a cousin who seemed to have no qualms about causing so much strife, Darcy went to find Georgiana.
Elizabeth slipped back into the scullery to find the kitchen in an uproar, and said a silent prayer that no one would miss the teacup and pot she’d left with Mr. Fox. She’d meant for him to have his tea and then take back the cup and pot, but had found him soundly asleep. So much so that he hadn’t awakened when she’d covered him with a blanket from the stable and left the tea and food within easy reach.
She quickly shucked her cloak, hat, gloves, and boots, then gathered them up. In stocking feet, she raced down the central hall, then scurried up the staircase. She stowed her outerwear and donned slippers.
If she could find Jane and join in whatever chore her sister undertook to ready for their cousin’s arrival, she might be able to make it seem as if she’d been in the house for far longer than she had. Hopefully, Jane did something near the kitchen. Elizabeth hadn’t taken the time to eat any of the food. She’d simply left it all. She was starved.
The light patter of her slippers nearly as quiet as her stocking feet had been, she started down the staircase. With both hands, she chafed cheeks that still felt cold and were likely red, for the wind had picked up a great deal since sunrise. Reaching the base of the staircase, she whirled in the direction of the kitchen.
“Elizabeth,” her mother’s voice cracked out.
Wincing, Elizabeth turned to the front parlor. “Yes, Mama?”
“Come here.” Mrs. Bennet’s usually jovial tone brooked no argument.
Elizabeth plastered on a bland smile, drew her shoulders back, and strode into the parlor. Surprisingly, her father and all four of her sisters also occupied the room. All of the chores must be done. They now awaited Mr. Collins’ arrival. Elizabeth truly had shirked.
“Explain yourself,” Mrs. Bennet stated.
