Fitzwilliam lowered his voice as he motioned for Darcy to walk with him and the two men moved a further away. “Andrew passed through here a few days ago with some rough-looking men,” he said, gesturing at the lad standing near his horse. “From what the boy overheard, they are heading to a cottage in Scotland—I would expect they would head to the one leased to keep him safe. However, their intentions appear far from protective. It seems they plan to harm him, perhaps even leave him for dead, after extracting whatever they want from him. They know they cannot get the money he owes, so it appears they aim to make an example of him. Though why they have chosen Scotland for this purpose, I cannot yet say.”
“Will you make your way to Scotland then?” Darcy asked, taking several moments to examine his cousin carefully. “Let me send a note to Pemberley, and I will join you. You do not need to do this on your own.”
“There are some people I can contact who are on my way; men I knew in the army and who have since retired,” Fitzwilliam explained. “I know you would prefer to return to your wife.”
“While there is no doubt that I would rather be with my wife, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to face what is likely a dangerous situation alone,” Darcy said, raising his hand to stop his cousin from speaking. “I know you are a colonel in His Majesty’s Army and have encountered countless situations like this one. But even then, you would have had others with you—men who could support you and help if the situation required it.”
“I will not refuse your company, Cousin. I will still try to contact a few of the men along our way who might be able to join us. Perhaps others on our route may have seen those we seek, and the lad was able to provide a fairly good description of the men with Andrew. If I know my brother, he will be reluctant to spend days in the saddle, and I am uncertain how long those men will tolerate his complaints,” Richard replied.
Darcy nodded his agreement. “You might be correct, Richard. Come, let us go to the inn so I can send Elizabeth a note letting her know I will be delayed. Then, I will accompany you north, at least until you have found others who are better equipped to help you on what might turn out to be a rescue mission. You will need to take care, for the men who have him might decide to use you to encourage your father to find a way to pay what is owed.”
“I will be cautious, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam assured him. “I have planned many an ambush while on the peninsula. I dare say I am more prepared to do battle than some hired thugs for the owners of a gambling den in Dartford.”
“That might be true, Richard, but you have been trained to fight honourably. I do not believe that will be true of these men,” Darcy objected.
“Soldiers might be trained to fight honourably, Darcy, but they know to ignore their training when death is on the line. I will be well, but I know better than to risk myself unnecessarily. You worry like an old woman, Cousin,” Fitzwilliam teased.
Darcy shook his head. “I have always worried about you, Richard. You know I have long viewed you nearly as a brother, and I worry for you each time you leave England for some far-flung battlefield. This is no different than that, except now I know a little more of what you are facing. I urge you to be careful.”
Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy on the shoulder, his grin fading slightly as he regarded his cousin. “I truly appreciate your concern. You have always been the steady one, keeping me grounded when I might have rushed headlong into trouble. I give you my word—I will not take unnecessary risks. But I must act quickly if Andrew is in danger. You would do the same if it were me or Georgiana, or now, Elizabeth.”
Darcy inclined his head, acknowledging the truth of Fitzwilliam’s words. “You are correct; I could do no less. However, you must keep in mind that these men are likely desperate. Desperation makes them unpredictable, and unpredictability makes them dangerous.”
“I know,” Fitzwilliam replied firmly. “Which is why I will not go alone for long. Once we reach the next sizable town, I will gather men willing to assist. Scotland is vast, and I will need all the help I can muster to locate Andrew in time.”
Darcy frowned but nodded. “Good. I will write to my investigator as soon as we stop at the inn. It is possible he will uncover something to aid you further.” He hesitated, then added, “I shall ensure that Elizabeth understands the reason for my delay. She will worry, as I do.”
“As will my mother,” Fitzwilliam said grimly. “I dread the lecture I will receive when she learns of all this.”
“Lady Julia has a right to be concerned,” Darcy countered. “Andrew might have his flaws, but he is still her son—and your brother. She deserves to know he is in jeopardy.”
Fitzwilliam sighed heavily. “You are right, of course. I will write to her as soon as I can; however, I doubt she will find much comfort in knowing the full truth. For now, let us make haste. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can put an end to this.”
Darcy nodded. “Agreed. Let us secure what we need and set off without delay.”
Chapter Forty-Three
TUESDAY, 14 JANUARY 1812
LONDON
Nothing was going the way Lord Matlock had planned.
Lady Catherine’s dowry had proven to be far less substantial than he had anticipated—an insult, really, to a man of his position and aspirations. The discovery had been a bitter blow to his carefully laid schemes. It almost had not been worth the trouble of having her killed although it did eliminate her bringing any further scrutiny to the family. Her scheming had been getting out of hand. While she was unaware of the extent of the problems surrounding Matlock, she knew enough. Her unrestrained behaviour of late made her something of a liability, and Matlock had not wanted to be saddled with her, especially not when she was openly defying him.
Adding to his frustration, neither Darcy nor Hargrove had shown any inclination to support his so-called “investment opportunity.” Though he had assured them of the potential for profitability on this venture, they had still declined and remained obstinately resistant to his overtures.
To make matters worse, Darcy’s decision to change solicitors had cut off one of Matlock’s most promising avenues for siphoning funds. The clerk at the previous solicitor’s office had been ideal for his covert plans. Coercion had been simple; the clerk’s fear of exposure to the consequences of his own questionable activities had ensured his cooperation. With theclerk’s help, Matlock had been ready to extract what he needed, intending to quietly divert small sums at first while laying the groundwork for a larger windfall.
But Darcy, damn him, had somehow caught wind of something—how much, Matlock did not know. The change in solicitors had come suddenly, severing his access to the funds he had intended to bleed dry. Worse still, the move had eliminated any leverage he might have gained over Darcy’s affairs. It was a move that spoke of calculated vigilance, and it rankled.
Matlock clenched his fists as he paced his study, his thoughts dark and furious. The setbacks were piling up, each one more aggravating than the last. What should have been a carefully controlled situation was slipping through his fingers. His son’s mounting debts were no longer a distant nuisance; they were becoming a direct threat—not only to Andrew’s safety but also to Matlock’s own reputation and, potentially, his very survival.
The so-called "investment opportunity" he had proposed to his nephews was, in truth, born of desperation—a calculated yet morally abhorrent gamble to recover from the devastating financial losses he had suffered over the past four years. The passage of the 1807 Act for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, championed by William Wilbberforce and his relentless abolitionist campaign, had struck a crippling blow to Matlock’s wealth. British ships were now prohibited from transporting or trading enslaved Africans, an industry that had once supplied more than half of Matlock’s income. His fortune had been built on the lucrative business of transporting Africans to British holdings in the West Indies, and the legislation forced him, at least publicly, to abandon his involvement in the trade.
In private, however, Matlock had turned to illegal smuggling, seeking to exploit the underground networks that emerged afterthe abolition of the trade. Unscrupulous men were still willing to risk the dangers of clandestine operations for the promise of enormous profits, and Matlock had heavily invested in ships and covert networks. These vessels operated in defiance of the Royal Navy’s patrols, transporting enslaved people to colonies where their forced labour remained in demand.
It was this illegal enterprise—masked under the guise of a legitimate investment—that he now sought his nephews to support. Matlock cloaked his true intentions with vague assurances of substantial returns, but beneath the surface, he understood all too well the risks: financial ruin, public disgrace, and even prosecution.
