Chapter 8
Darcy rolled his shoulders back and adjusted his hat so he could see past the visor. The uniform Fitz had insisted he wear was ill-fitting and ridiculous. It was covered by a large, navy blue cape, which was neither as warm nor as comfortable as his own greatcoat. Fitz had grinned wickedly when Darcy appeared in it. Darcy had protested—it was clear to him, at least, that he was not a military man. He complained that the moment he spoke it would take mere seconds for anyone they met to determine the same.
His cousin was unrepentant. “Then do not speak.”
As they approached Meryton from the south, Darcy thought that this had been the entire point—Fitz wished to keep him from speaking or drawing attention to himself in any way. He had been reluctant to allow Darcy’s presence at all, but Darcy was finished with hiding at home and waiting for something to happen. Elizabeth’s situation—their situation—was untenable. He must do something to bring it to a successful conclusion. If only he knew how to accomplish it without making everything worse.
Elizabeth had a great deal of faith in Sir William Lucas. He hoped she was right.
Just outside town, Fitz pulled up and Darcy joined him. “Well, cousin, I never ignore a good scouting report,” Fitz informed him. “Where does this former mayor, now a knight, reside?”
Darcy led the way, skirting around Longbourn’s village and heading north and east to Lucas Lodge. When they arrived and were allowed to wait in the small front hall, Darcy glanced around. He had not really observed more than the drawing rooms when he had been here before. There were few objects of any significant value, though the items on display were chosen with taste and discretion.
An elderly manservant returned to lead them inside; a maid showed them to a small room on the main hall where they were able to refresh themselves from the ride. They passed by several open rooms. Sir William and Lady Lucas had a great many children, if he recalled correctly, and yet all was neat and orderly. He was not certain why he had assumed it would be otherwise. They were escorted back to a small study closer to the front door.
Inside the room, shutters open to take advantage of the light, sat the gentleman himself. He rose to greet them, staring at Darcy for a moment before leaning into a polite bow.
“Colonels Fitzwilliam and Black,” he said genially, “welcome. What business brings you to me on this fine December day?” He waved a hand at the two chairs that faced his desk.
“Thank you for seeing us, Sir William,” Fitz said amiably as he sat down. Darcy followed his lead. “We have come to ask about certain men from London who attended a ball here on the twenty-sixth of November. Several of them seem to be officers who have abandoned their posts without leave.”
“I see,” Sir William replied, eyeing them both cheerfully. He set his hands on the desk, meaty fingers laced together, and twiddled his thumbs. Two blue eyes lit upon Darcy, and finally, Sir William spoke, but it was not in answer to Fitz’s query. “You look a great deal like a young man who came among us this autumn, Colonel Black. My friend Bennet has mentioned something about the reason for his sudden departure. Have you any relation to the Darcy family?”
“I do,” Darcy responded without elucidation.
The older man stood. “Excellent. I have something for Mr. Darcy, if you would be so kind as to pass it along.”
“I would be pleased to do so, Sir William,” he said.
Fitz shot Darcy a murderous glare, and Darcy lifted his shoulders. He knew he was not supposed to speak, but what had Fitz expected? Elizabeth knew her neighbor well. Clearly Sir William was not likely to be fooled by a change of clothing and a refusal to converse. Darcy had been in the man’s home more than once over the past months, and they had seen one another only a week past. The uniform would keep the townspeople from recognizing him atop his horse, but once they could see his face, those who had been introduced would of course be able to identify him.
Sir William disappeared into a closet, and Darcy heard squeaky hinges. A safe? He wondered what Sir William could possibly have to give him.
The older man reappeared with something clutched in his fist. His expression was pensive. “I am the local magistrate, Colonel Black. Were you aware?”
Darcy shook his head. “I was not.”
“Most believe that duty belongs to Bennet, but he was pleased to hand it to me when I opened Lucas Lodge some years ago.”
Fitz’s eyes were narrowing. Darcy could tell his cousin was growing agitated, but Elizabeth had said this man was shrewd. He listened carefully.
“It was rather fortunate on this occasion that it is no longer Bennet’s duty. This incident, oh, about a week ago now, was said to involve one of his daughters, and if he still held the office, he should have been forced to recuse himself. I fear that in such a situation Mr. Bingley might have been called to serve. Although he has only leased Netherfield, he is still the master of the largest estate in the neighborhood.” He tapped his closed fist lightly on the surface of his desk. “You will forgive me, but he is not the man for this job.”
“Why is that?” Fitz asked. He sounded merely curious, but Darcy knew better. Fitz would decide whether they could trust the man based on his answer.
Sir William lifted an eyebrow. “I believe you know, Colonel. It is why you are here, speaking with me, when the guest list you want is at Netherfield.”
Fitz stared unblinkingly. Darcy waited until Sir William continued.
“The lady’s family has said she is in London, but she has always made her farewells to my daughter before she travels. It was a surprise to Charlotte to hear her friend had removed to town, and she has watched for a letter since.”
The skin on the back of Darcy’s neck prickled, but he would not allow any emotion to cross his face.
He was pleased when Sir William frowned. The man leaned over the desk. “Might you recognize this, Colonel Black?”
Darcy inclined forward as Sir William lifted his hand, something small and round pinched between his thumb and index finger. Metal-rimmed, with a hand-painted scene on ivory-colored porcelain.
He recognized it immediately as the missing button from his evening coat. “I might,” he said slowly, reaching out to take it. Fitz leaned over to have a look. Darcy noted that there was still some thread attached and studied the ends. They were clean and even.