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“We were in company, in Meryton.”

He spat on the floor and went back to his cards—apparently not that enamoured with Hertfordshire.

“I believe you were friends with a man I grew up with… Darcy?”

The man thoroughly surprised me by grabbing my cravat, and dragging me halfway onto the table by the neck. “Do not speak that name in my presence!”

So, it seemed the pup had grown some teeth.

“My apologies, sir! I did not realise you had a falling-out.”

He seemed to gradually come to himself, and his face returned to its normal colour. “Forgive me! I get… agitated when I hear that name.”

That sounded promising.

“I beg your pardon. Having known the so-called gentleman all my life, I can understand your feelings. What has he done? Withheld a debt? Owes you money?”

He scowled, so I carried on as if I had only a passing interest in the conversation, and took another swig of my watered-down gin.

“Maybe he ruined your sister?”

At that, we both howled like monkeys. His sister would take her ruination with the greatest pleasure, not that I could imagine any man dunderheaded enough to attempt it.

“Maybe he denied your affection for his sister?”

That was it! I saw his face contort in a look of rage for just the tiniest of seconds, before he schooled it into drunken indifference. So, the man was besotted with Darcy’s sister, and denied access to her treasures… all thirty thousand of them.

“So, that is the way it is! Not a man from trade for his precious sister, eh! Does he also owe you money?”

His hand squeezed his bottle of gin until I thought it was like to break. “Yes.”

“Why have you not requested kindly that he repay you?”

“We have a difference of opinion on the amount. I cannot take him by myself. My friend over there—” He glanced at his confederate. “—is afraid of the man and offers no assistance.”

So, the man wanted some revenge on Darcy. Interesting!

“A sensible attitude. He is a powerful man.”

“Just a man.”

I took another sip of my gin. “Should you wish some… assistance… I assume the work would be well paid?”

He gave me a wary look, as if evaluating me, before finally replying, “Very well.”

“How will you get at him? All his houses have servants piled up to the ceiling… some armed to the teeth.”

Here, he chuckled. “Are you serious about this? There is no going back.”

The fool did not know there was always going back… always leaving things behind… always someone to pick up the pieces… and it might be his turn.

“Dead serious! I have my own debts to collect.”

He looked at me appraisingly for a few minutes, apparently trying to determine if I looked trustworthy enough to at least not stab him in the back… not that he would ever show me his back or I show him mine.

“I have a man keeping quiet watch on his movements. He keeps a bit of muslin at the parsonage near his aunt’s estate in Kent. You may know her. Mrs Collins… formerly Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

I had to smile. Soooo… apparently, not so unsuccessful. All the milk without paying for the cow.