Fitzwilliam took his own glass and leant against the mantel. “I do not discount the possibility, though I agree it seems far-fetched. Ashburn is hardly the type to fend for himself. He could not even pack his own bags, let alone secure funds or arrange a successful escape without assistance. I can scarcely imagine him lasting very long without his servants to assist him.”
“Yet the valet insists no one accompanied him,” Darcy mused. “It seems more likely he has been taken by the men he owes—or by someone they hired.”
“Perhaps,” Fitzwilliam said, frowning. “But if that were the case, why not send word to demand a ransom? These men care about recovering their money, and a ransom could be lucrative. Although they must know that Father has nothing to give as well, but still, it seems unlikely they would just abscond with him.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “That does raise questions. However, if Ashburn’s debts are as extensive as you suggest, they might view him as more valuable alive than dead, especially if they think they can pressure him to make good on his obligations through other means.”
“How would he achieve that without funds?” Fitzwilliam countered, setting his glass down. “Father indicated he had sold nearly everything of value at his estate, and I doubt my mother would leave her jewellery accessible to him here, knowing his tendencies.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Is there any chance he still intended to travel north as his valet said they had planned? If so, why abandon his servants and valet? It does not add up.”
“That is what I intend to discover,” Fitzwilliam replied. “The valet said they spoke of Scotland often enough before he left. I will follow the trail northward to the place that they arranged for him to stay and see if he reached his original destination. It is a slim chance, but one I cannot ignore. If he is not there, then I will return and see what I can discover.”
Darcy sighed, setting his empty glass on the desk. “I will return to Pemberley and write to my investigator. Perhaps he canuncover whether the men Ashburn owes are still in London or have gone elsewhere. If they have departed, it might give us some clue as to Ashburn’s fate.”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “A wise course. Between your investigator and my journey north, we might yet uncover the truth.”
After partaking in a light meal, the two men prepared to depart—Darcy to Pemberley and Fitzwilliam further north. Darcy watched his cousin mount his horse with a determined expression.
“Take care, Richard,” Darcy said, his voice steady. “If you find anything, send word immediately.”
“You do the same,” Fitzwilliam replied. “This will not be an easy search, but we will leave no stone unturned.”
With that, they intended to part ways. While neither man was close to Ashburn, they were tied by blood, and neither wished for anything untoward to happen to him. Briefly Fitzwilliam wondered how his life might change if his brother were no longer among the living, but he brushed that thought aside, not even wanting to imagine how his brother’s death might result in anything positive.
For a short time,the two men rode together. Just as they were about to separate, Darcy reined in his horse abruptly.
“Halt, Richard. I believe Theseus has thrown a shoe,” Darcy called. “Wait a moment.”
Fitzwilliam drew his horse to a stop, turning it and going back to his cousin. He dismounted and watched as Darcy examined his horse’s hoof, which had, indeed thrown a shoe. Fortunately, however, there was no damage to the hoof, and they had just passed through a village a short time ago.
“Did you notice if there was a blacksmith there?” Darcy asked. “I am certain I have ridden through often enough, but I cannot recall.”
Fitzwilliam indicated he believed there was, so he dismounted and walked with his cousin the mile back to the town. Soon Darcy was negotiating with the blacksmith to have Theseus properly shod while Fitzwilliam looked around.
Deciding to investigate while he was there, Fitzwilliam approached the stable boy who had popped his head out of the livery next door. "Hullo, lad," he called, "have you seen anything unusual around here lately?"
The young man shook his head, eyeing the gentleman before him carefully. “Need a hand, sir? I can take yer horse for ye, give ‘im a bit o’ water. Aye, he’s a real beauty, ‘e is. Don’t see ones like ‘im round ‘ere often.”
Fitzwilliam watched the boy for a minute before responding. “Yes, he could use some water,” he said slowly. “This is a rather small village, I am surprised to find both a blacksmith shop and a livery. Do you get many travellers through here?”
This seemed to have been the right question because it evoked a much more effusive response. “Aye, sir, we often see carriages an’ the like passin’ through to Matlock—grand place it is,belongin’ to the Earl hisself, though he don’t often stop by ‘ere. Only a few days past, his son come ridin’ through wi’ a party o’ men. Not a face I’d seen afore, an’ he looked none too steady in the saddle, if I may say so. Likely not used to it—guess a gentleman o’ his sort has little call for ridin’ when he’s got carriages for that. But you, sir, you sit a horse well enough, an’ yours is a fine one—finer than most that pass this way.”
“What kind of horse was the earl’s son riding? What of the men who were with him?” Fitzwilliam pressed, trying not to seem too anxious.
The lad scratched his head thoughtfully, clearly eager to be helpful. “Well, sir, the earl’s son was on a big bay—fine-lookin’ beast. He didn’t seem to know how to handle it proper-like. Kept pullin’ the reins too tight, poor creature. As for the men wi’ him, there were four, I reckon. Not much to say about their horses—sturdy sorts, good for the road, but nothin’ special. The men themselves… well, they weren’t locals, that’s for sure. Looked rough, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, sir, like they’d seen their share of trouble. But they was quiet enough when they passed through, just had a word or two wi’ old Tom at the inn for directions afore ridin’ on.”
He paused, then added, “Seemed like they was in a hurry, though—not the kind of lot to stop an’ linger.”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Do you know which direction they were headed in, lad? Towards Matlock or away from it?”
“They was headin’ north, sir, towards Scotland, by what I ‘eard. One o’ the men said summat about a cottage up there. The earl’s son, though—he didn’t look too pleased ‘bout it, not one bit. The others, they just laughed, like they was enjoyin’ his mis’ry. Oneof ‘em made a crack ‘bout the toff bein’ in no state to ride once they got there. Sounded right cruel, if y’ask me,” the boy said.
“Thank you, lad,” Fitzwilliam said, offering a nod of gratitude. Though he attempted to ask a few more questions, he refrained from pressing too hard. After gathering as much information as the boy could provide, he handed him a coin for his trouble and hurried towards Darcy, who was just finishing his conversation with the blacksmith.
“Do they have another horse you can borrow, Darcy? Or will your horse be ready soon? I am ready to be on my way,” Fitzwilliam said.
“My horse will be ready to ride within the hour. What is the matter, Richard?” Darcy asked as he studied the expression on his cousin’s face.
