Page 43

“Of course, and I will not mind at all! In any case, I always have plenty of sweet buns on hand if you need them.”

With that Wickham smiled broadly, tipped his hat and went out the door. How fortunate it was that he had seen those two miscreants leaving the bakery. Mrs. Potter would be a wealth of information. Things were starting to look up!

Darcy House

Darcy’s bedroom

That night

Remarkably, Richard decided to sleep at Matlock House, leaving Darcy alone with the demons that tortured him whenever quiet surrounded him. Having plenty of time to write his steward at Pemberley, he instructed Sturgis to take money from the payroll safe and purchase the bakery in Lambton that Elizabeth wanted. He had also enclosed a letter to Mrs. Potter instructing her how he wished to handle the purchase so that Elizabeth would never know he was behind it. Taking care to place that letter on the salver in the foyer, he asked his butler to make certain it was posted in the morning, then he instantly retired.

As he ascended the stairs, he prayed he had consumed enough brandy to fall asleep without reliving over and over the predicament he had got himself into with Lady Morgan. He even considered the laudanum he had taken from his housekeeper’s medicine bag, which now sat on the liquor cabinet, along with his usual sources for inducing sleep. His demons, however, were not of a mind to cooperate tonight; instead, they continued to remind him of his many faults, just as they had since he had lost all hope of having Elizabeth as his wife two years before.

Hour after hour, sleep eluded him as he sat with eyes closed, head resting against the plush headrest of the most comfortable chair in the room. Appalling thoughts bombarded him like rocks falling off a cliff, battering his weary mind.

How can I possibly marry Elizabeth’s sister if it comes down to that? I cannot help picturing the woman I love every time I am in Lady Morgan’s company, and it would be torment to experience that for the rest of my life.

God help me! I cannot imagine fathering fair-haired children when I long for ones with dark hair and eyes as black as coal. Moreover, could I bear to stand aside and watch Elizabeth birth those same children for another man?

William looked to the heavens. Tell me, why did I not listen to Richard and choose what is best for myself? Would it truly have been uncaring to pass this cup to another?

As usual, the drunker he got, the more he contemplated from where Elizabeth’s deep-seated hatred came. His frown deepened for, in truth, he knew exactly where it originated. He was the one responsible for separating Jane Bennet from Charles Bingley. Even more than his reputed mistreatment of George Wickham, Elizabeth despised him for depriving her most beloved sister of an advantageous marriage. Advantageous, at least as far as the Bennets knew.

Though Bingley was a decent man, William knew him to be fickle, and Charles had done exactly what he had feared—quickly moved on and married another blonde-haired angel who looked remarkably like Jane Bennet. Rumour had it that this angel, however, had not turned out to be as heavenly as Elizabeth’s sister and, not for the first time, he wondered if he had done his friend a disservice, too.

Walking over to the liquor cabinet, he picked out another bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink. Taking two swallows, he vowed not to pour another. Sitting back down in his comfortable chair, he again laid his head back and closed his eyes as he said a prayer:

Please, God, let me get an hour of sleep and I shall be satisfied.

Chapter 11

Sheffield

The trip to Sheffield had taken longer than Elizabeth expected, mainly because Mr. Hill was not a skilled driver and could not press their horses to go fast. Though she wished she had hired a driver to take them north, she knew Mr. Hill would never have agreed. Disappointed that she had given in to Jane’s fears and taken the elderly servant along, she was already thinking of how to send him back to Netherfield as soon possible without hurting his feelings.

In any case, once they reached the constable’s home in Sheffield, where he conducted business, she immediately stepped up to a desk where a young man, who looked no older than thirty, sat.

“I am Elizabeth Bennet, and I wish to speak to Mr. Stone.”

“I am sorry, but the constable is not seeing anyone today,” he replied, “and he may not be able to see anyone for quite some time.”

“I travelled all the way from Hertfordshire to speak to him, Mr.—”

“Miller.”

“Well, Mr. Miller, I am not leaving until I have seen him!” Elizabeth proclaimed sternly. “He is investigating my brother’s murder, and I intend to learn what progress he has made.”

Taken aback at the resolve in her voice, the man’s expression changed to one of befuddlement before he pushed his chair away from the desk and stood. “I shall see if he feels up to seeing you. What did you say your name is?”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

As Mr. Miller entered a door behind the desk and closed it, Elizabeth turned to offer Mr. Hill what she hoped appeared a confident smile. Muffled voices could be heard before the door opened again, and the man appeared once more.

“Constable Stone will see you now,” he declared; however, when Elizabeth took a step towards the door, he stepped in front of her. “Mind you, Mr. Stone is not well. The doctor had to give him something for his pain this morning, and his mind may not be as sharp as it normally is.”

Wondering what could be ailing the constable, Elizabeth thought she ought not ask. Instead, she said, “I will keep that in mind.”

Once she entered the room, she stopped short to see the constable lying in a bed and propped upon pillows. A woman, possibly a nurse, stood from where she sat next to the bed, nodded at Elizabeth and quickly left the room. That left her to focus on the contraption that held the constable in its grip. It appeared that a strap hanging from an anchor in the roof held his right leg slightly suspended above the bed in a makeshift sling. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the man’s face and not on the fact that the coverings left much of his lower body exposed.