Damon Fitzwilliam fought the urge to turn his head and kiss Elizabeth’s palm. She was Darcy’s wife, but for the past few days, he She is phenomenal, he thought. “I could not let you travel halfway across England alone. The Earl of Matlock would disown me for sure, and as I am a second son, I cannot afford to be in his disfavor.” He tried to cover his growing feelings with a jest.
“Let us go inside and see what we can learn of my husband.” Elizabeth took the colonel’s arm as they entered the inn.
Just as with all the other places they had frequented over the past few days, the innkeeper greeted them at the door and jumped to meet their needs. They had decided prior to leaving the coach that the colonel would ask discreet questions. “My cousin and I were to meet in Stanwick,” he began a bit aristocratically. “I escorted his wife, so that they might enjoy a holiday in Edinburgh. Would you tell me, Sir, if Fitzwilliam Darcy is a guest at this inn?”
The innkeeper glanced at the registry. “Let me see. We have a Mr. D’Arcy.” He turned the registry so the colonel could see the name.“He registered yesterday. Be that whom you seek, Sir?”
Damon was momentarily flustered, but he recovered quickly. “That appears to be him.”
“Very good, Sir. I be afraid no one saw Mr. D’Arcy today.The maid reports his bed remains unused.Yet Mr. D’Arcy’s belongings be still in the room. He paid for three days, so I kept the gentleman’s personal things intact.”
The colonel could feel Elizabeth’s fingers tighten on his arm, and he brought his free hand to rest on hers.“Did my cousin speak to anyone whom you noted?”
“The gentleman, he walked ’bout the village upon his arrival. He sat for some time with Mr. Bruce. Bruce be pro’bly the most knowledgeable man in the area, lived here forever he has.” The man puffed up with importance. “We be thinkin’ Mr. D’Arcy be attendin’ the St. Cuthbert dance last night at the assembly, but old Bruce say he not there.You not be thinkin’ somethin’ bad happen, do ye, Sir?”
The colonel smiled with confidence. “Of course not. My cousin is a learned man—very interested in history—more than
“Mr. D’Arcy be findin’ plenty of those.”The innkeeper chuckled as he made arrangements for their baggage. “I be puttin’ the lady’s things in her mister’s room.You be needin’ one of yer own, Sir?”
“That would be excellent. A comfortable bed would take care of all my travel woes.”
“Ye be starvin’, too, I ’magine.”
Elizabeth looked about her.“If it would not be too much trouble, something hot would be most appreciated.”
“Ye and the lady take yerselves into that there room. Me wife find ye some meat pies and some tea. She be happy to serve ye there.”
“Thank you, Sir,” the colonel responded. “Ask your kind lady to make my tea into ale, if you would.” He maneuvered Elizabeth towards the private room.“And our coachman needs provisions, as well as our cattle.”
“No problem, Sir. All be seen to.”The man moved away to do their bidding.
When they were seated in the private dining room, they were able to drop the pretense. Elizabeth released her breath. “At least, we know Fitzwilliam is here. I was surprised that he used the old spelling of the family name.”
“Very astute of Darcy, in reality—he can blend in better.”
Elizabeth looked anxious.“I suppose so.”
“It seems I will be spending time in the taproom after we eat.A few rounds of drinks should loosen the local tongues.”
“Where do you suppose Fitzwilliam is now?” She spoke softly, although they were the only two in the room.
The colonel took her hand in his. “I doubt if Darcy waited for long before he approached Wickham’s coverture. Knowing your husband, he went through the front door, guns blazing, like one of those tales of the Archibald Montgomerie and the 77th Regiment of Foot.”
“How would you handle it, Colonel?” she half teased.
“Years in the military would make me a Cherokee, not one of the Royal Scots. I would wait and watch and choose the right moment.” He laughed at himself. “I suppose Darcy’s way is the more honorable one.”
“But not necessarily the more prudent one.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “No one who ever met you, Colonel, would think you anything less than honorable.”
The innkeeper’s wife interrupted their conversation. “Hopin’ the meat pies serve ye,” she said as she placed the tea service on the table next to the colonel’s tankard.
“They smell delicious, Ma’am.Thank you for all your trouble.” The colonel and Elizabeth were ravenous, immediately attacking their fare.
The coachman appeared at the door, and Elizabeth motioned him forward.“Yes, Peter?”
“Mrs. Darcy, I be takin’ note, as ye asked.The Master’s horse is in the stable.”
“Trident?” Her excitement rose.
“Yes, Ma’am.Trident glad to see me—gave him a randy apple, likin’ I always do.”
“Watch Trident for us, Peter. Let me know if anyone goes near him.”The servant looked pleased with the new responsibility. “We will be staying here for a few days, so use the time to make whatever repairs are needed.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed out of the room.
The colonel had already consumed a goodly portion of his meal. “You get some rest tonight, Elizabeth, and I will find where Wickham is and how we might best approach him.”
“You will be careful, Colonel?”
“I have not my cousin’s powers. Like you, my dear, I am very much a human, and I must depend on my wits to survive.Trust me, I will not do anything foolish. As soon as I know something, we will act.”
“Make it soon, Colonel. I fear Fitzwilliam needs our help.”
The colonel nursed his drink as two men shared their stories of how each night those foolish enough to be out after midnight took the chance of meeting what these men simply called “bloodsuckers.” He also learned that the whole neighborhood “knew” the source of these diseased creatures to be the master of Wickford Manor.
“He be the family of Seorais Winchcombe,” the one called Gordy told him, “the one who be lovin’ Lady Ellender. The lady and Lord Benning be buried up in the cemetery with all them others. It be odd the man came here.”
“How far is it to Wickford Manor?” the colonel asked casually.
“Half ’n mile back towards the church.Wickford Manor is not much by London standards, but it got some land.The thing is, it sit right on the back of the line where be the church’s graveyard. Like Wickford Manor takin’ in them souls.”
His partner offered his own insights. “Some be sayin’ them bloodsuckers dance in the hall every night. I nary believe it, but everyone be sayin’ it so.”
Finally, having all the information he needed, the colonel bid the two farewell. “It is near eleven, gentlemen. I shall not detain you any longer. I thank you for sharing your local legends.” Damon Fitzwilliam knew he should go and share what he had discovered with Elizabeth, but if what these men said was true, he needed to act now, before the “dance” began.
A quarter hour later, he stood before the church’s graveyard. Everything still seemed quiet, but after the past hour of listening to two grown men excitedly share what they knew of the grave sites looming before him, Damon Fitzwilliam had to steel his nerves before proceeding. As rambunctious children, he and Darcy had often played soldiers, hiding behind family headstones in a pretend battle; and in the military, he had spent more time than he cared to remember with the dead. Yet this was different, and the colonel sensed it. In this cemetery, death lived.
He chastised himself for his fear and quickly crossed the mounds to exit through the hedge shrub outlining the graves. A
His drunken informants had told him the house was behind the cemetery; they had forgotten to mention the hill and the wooded field. Luckily, light streamed from the house’s windows, serving as a beacon for him as he took unsteady steps on the hill, and the colonel made his way stealthily through the forested area to come out where the steps led to the kitchen. In the back of his mind, Damon reasoned how country homes would never be lit up as such at that time of night, but this was no ordinary household. Armed with cloves of garlic and a crucifix purchased in one of the small villages through which he and Elizabeth had passed, he edged the kitchen door open and slipped into a perfectly clean room. At first, its pristineness shocked him, but then he remembered Elizabeth had told him that Wickham never ate regular food.The pots and pans and kettle were purely for show—Wickham’s playing at being the master of his small estate.