Strong currents of wind sweeping through the narrow passageways between the buildings would make theircovert activities uncomfortable, even with heavy coats and thick gloves. Darcy and Mr. Cornerstone wore black. Richard wore his standard uniform, his sword at his side and a pistol tucked in the belt around his waist.
Darcy recognized at least four men waiting for their paramours to exit the building so Richard’s jest was not misplaced. Unexpectedly, the first individual who burst through the door was Cinna. If Darcy had not caught a clear look at him in the lantern light, he would not have recognized him. The man must have been a master of disguise.
Stepping in front of him to block his way, Darcy ordered him to halt.
Dressed as a sailor who had been away from his home port a long time, Cinna’s face paled when he caught sight of Darcy. Glancing to either side of him, he saw Richard and Mr. Cornerstone blocking his way.
“I have questions that need answered.” Darcy stepped closer, his walking stick ready to strike.
“I…I do not know who you are. I have nothing to say to you.”
Richard slid his sword from its scabbard. Cinna nervously looked behind him. He was on his own since there was no one paying the slightest attention to him.
“Perhaps you should try again with a better reply.” Keeping his voice low, Darcy said, “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy of Darcy House in Grosvenor Square. In company with my former man of business, Mr. Simon Cole, you came dressed as a notary, whereupon you authenticated documents, witnessed, and sealed deeds transferring property. Does that stir your memory?”
“I…well, no…I cannot imagine that was me since I am an actor…a rather well-known thespian if you must know.” He twirled the ends of a mustache that was coming unattached.
Richard lifted his sword. “I would be more than willing to give you a close trim.”
With the tip of Richard’s sword pressed into the lower corner of the man’s nose, the fraud spoke.
“Yes, I remember.” The man’s eyes shifted between the three men in front of him.
Mr. Cornerstone said, “I am the local constable with the authority to see justice done for Mr. Darcy. Pretending to be a notary public whereupon you swore to the legality of transferring a large sum from one person to another without being listed at the Court of Faculties of the Archbishop of Canterbury carries a heavy penalty. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
The man fell to his knees, pleading. “My name is Burt Rumple. I have a wife and four small children currently living in a rooming house on the far side of Cheapside. My youngest child has been ill, requiring medicines I cannot afford. When Mr. Cole approached me, I was desperate. I beg of you, do not harm me. My wife has no means to support herself and my family without me. I will do anything, say anything, to stay out of Marshalsea.”
“What are their names?” Richard asked, his sword trailing down Rumple’s cheek.
“Ah, my children? Uh, they are Peter and Andrew. James and John.”
Mr. Cornerstone and Darcy each grabbed an arm. Richard hit him over the head with the butt of his weapon until he lay unconscious beneath him. Whistlingfor a hackney, the three men hauled Rumple inside. They sent a runner ahead to warn the attorney, and within moments, they were on their way to Samuel Haggerston’s offices.
Mr. Haggerston presidedat the head of the table. Rumple and Mr. Cornerstone were on the side, away from the door, facing Darcy and Richard, who carefully placed his weapons on the table: his pistol, his sword, and a knife he pulled from his boot. The candlelight glinted on the steel, displaying its lethal sharpness.
Mr. Rumple, now fully conscious, gulped.
A stack of paper and writing instruments sat on the table in front of Mr. Haggerston. Taking up the quill, he dipped the tip in ink and wrote.
“Name?”
“Bartholomew Rumple.” He startled when the three men glared at him. “But everyone calls me Burt.”
“Where do you currently reside?”
He swallowed. “I am staying at the home of a friend.”
Richard lifted his knife, turning it slowly back and forth, showing its perfect edge to Mr. Rumple.
“Ah…I am at a rooming house with my family.”
Darcy sneered. “If you can believe this, he named his four sons after the first of Jesus’ apostles, in order, no less.”
“I, ah…well.” Rumple, barely glancing at the others, focused on the attorney. “I have no wife and children. I thought to gain sympathy. As it was, I realize now that was not my wisest choice for a reply.”
Mr. Haggerston set down his pen. Clearing his throat, he plainly stated. “I am not a judge, Mr. Rumple, and you have not sworn an oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. However, it behooves me to inform you that the sooner you expose Mr. Simon Cole’s role in the theft, the sooner you may be returned to wherever you live. With that said, if we later learn that you have been less than forthright with us, you shall suffer the full extent of the law. I will not hesitate to excoriate you in court in front of the harshest judge in all England. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Rumple scooted up in his chair to sit respectfully. “Mr. Cole approached me late one evening after the performance was over with his proposal. The crowd had been thin for a while. Since my cut of the revenue was small, his offer of fifty quid was like a gift from God almighty himself. I recently performed as a barrister in a production ofMeasure for Measure, so the costuming was easy. With a little effort, Mr. Cole taught me what to say, the order of the proceedings, and how to use the stamp correctly.”
