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“I do not. Not for certain,” she admitted. “But Mr. Wickham met with the man when he was supposed to visit a sick friend. He must be connected to his nefarious activities somehow. They did not speak long, and I suspect they made plans to rendezvous tonight. But I could not hear what they said.” She was still walking but had slowed her pace. Her anger at Mr. Darcy should not interfere with the larger mission.
The next minute passed in silence as they marched toward Colonel Forster’s house. Then Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I apologize. I should have at least ascertained your purpose before stopping you. I have been seeking you for more than an hour, imagining the many different ways you might have been hurt. I reacted rather badly.”
As Elizabeth paused on a street corner, she examined his face. Worry lines were etch
ed around his mouth, and his eyes were shadowed by dark circles. “I accept your apology.” His shoulders sagged. “However, I will not—I cannot—countenance a friend who does not trust my judgment—even in matters concerning my own safety.”
His eyes searched hers for a moment. No doubt he understood—as she intended—that she would refuse to marry such a man. “I understand.” He nodded slowly. “I will attempt to keep my…impulses under regulation.”
It was a remarkable promise from a man like Mr. Darcy. The master of Pemberley was certainly accustomed to having his own way in all things. “I thank you, sir. Now, we should return to Colonel Forster’s house to discuss what I have learned.”
Chapter Twelve
As they strolled back to Forster’s house, Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm while he held the reins for the horse plodding behind them. Elizabeth was uncharacteristically silent. Was she still fuming about his interference, or was she more concerned about losing Harrison?
There was no question that he had made a mull of it.
He had been aware—in a rather theoretical way—that women did not like being told what to do. However, he had believed that the rule applied to situations like how to wear their hair. Or who to befriend. Or what to serve for dinner. Darcy had been concerned for Elizabeth’s safety! Surely different rules should apply.
Apparently not.
He was not a stupid man. It had been drilled into him from a young age that he must protect women, but he could understand how Elizabeth might see his protective instincts as…meddlesome…high-handed…condescending.
I have much to atone for.
His first impulse had been to defend himself, but he had suppressed it. He was trying to demonstrate that he could attend to Elizabeth’s rebukes and change his behavior. It was the only way to win her hand—and her heart.
Elizabeth believed her life was hers to do with as she pleased—much as most men did. It was only fair, and yet he struggled with the idea; it was not how he was accustomed to thinking of women. Yet he needed to be comfortable with the idea if he wanted her to marry him—to love him.
I should be grateful she accepted my apology. He was also slightly heartened that she had essentially warned him she would not marry a man who behaved in a high-handed way. Such a warning would be entirely unnecessary if she believed she would never entertain another proposal from him.
Perhaps I am no longer the last man in the world she would consider marrying. That thought alone put more spring in Darcy’s step.
Darcy tied up his horse outside Forster’s house, and they hurried through the front entrance. Both colonels had recently returned and convened in the study. They were relieved to see Elizabeth and eagerly listened to her report. When she described the man she had seen, Richard nodded vigorously. “Yes, that is Harrison.”
“Very well, we know Harrison has made contact with Wickham.” Forster sank into his chair and gestured for the others to take seats. “What should we do next?”
“I could exert some pressure on Wickham. With the right incentive—say, leniency in sentencing—he might reveal the plans,” Richard said.
Forster grimaced. “That is only possible if we can find Wickham. The man has not returned to his barracks. I have someone watching out for him, but I would imagine he’ll remain inconspicuous until this situation is resolved. Getting Harrison to France is a more important task than Wickham and his friends have ever undertaken before.”
“Harrison will ship out tonight if he can,” Richard observed.
“But from where?” Darcy asked.
“The cave!” Elizabeth exclaimed, exchanging a look with Colonel Forster.
He nodded. “Indeed.” His eyes fell on Richard and Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth induced Wickham to show her the location of a cave in the cliffs to the east of Brighton. I surveyed the location myself, and there is no doubt it is being used by smugglers. It is far enough from the town that it would make an excellent point of departure for a small boat.”
“Good work.” Richard nodded approvingly at Elizabeth. “When would they depart?” he asked Forster.
The other man stroked his chin. “No doubt they will sail at night. The tide will be high at ten o’clock tonight. I could lead a team of men…recruit a few officers I may trust.”
Richard was on the edge of his seat. “I will accompany you. I have longed to apprehend Wickham, and Harrison must be my prisoner. The Home Office wants me to bring him in for questioning.”
Forster nodded. “I will be happy for any assistance.”
“We must be in place by nine so as to arrive undetected,” Richard said.
