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Wickham tossed the letter upon the desk and Addison picked it up. He had not read many lines when, recognising his own handwriting, he fixed his eyes on Wickham again.

“As luck would have it, I am acquainted with the lady you are having followed. I was once married to her sister, so locating her will be much easier for me than for the simpletons you have hired. Moreover, I am not slipshod at performing whatever I am paid to do.”

Lord Addison seemed to be weighing his options. “What is it you want, Mr. Wickham?”

“I want to take over where Drago and Sully failed. Give me a hundred pounds to facilitate a search, and I shall find Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Once I have her, I shall await your decision on what to do next.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because she knows me very well, I am likely the only man who can convince her that it is in her best interest to accept your offer of marriage and that it will not bode well for her, or her sister, should she refuse. Besides, were I foolish enough to abscond with your money without producing Miss Bennet, you have the means to hire yet another man to find me.”

“Is that all you want?”

“Certainly not! I intend for you to pay me three-thousand pounds before I release her to you.”

A sharp intake of breath proved Lord Addison was furious. “That is extortion!”

“I had rather call it a token of your appreciation.” At Lord Addison’s glare, Wickham added, “Come now. You probably owe Drago and Sully more than that for killing Miss Bennet’s brother.”

The earl’s head flew back at that comment, but instead of denying any hand in the murders, he declared, “I had nothing to do with his death. I told those bumbling fools to threaten Lord Morgan that if he continued to pursue an estate in Derbyshire, it would not work out well for his family. They contended the murders occurred after the solicitor pulled a pistol, leaving them no choice but to defend themselves.”

At Wickham’s incredulous expression, he added, “I could not bear it if Elizabeth moved so far away from …” The earl seemed to be in a trance as he stopped speaking and stared into space. Then, suddenly, he continued as though nothing had happened. “I will take a chance on you, Mr. Wickham, but rest assured that I will have satisfaction should you take advantage of me.”

“You do not have to worry about that,” Wickham lied. “I know exactly what I am about, and dying is not in my plans.”

Once on the pavement in front of Lady Cargile’s townhouse, Wickham placed his hat atop his head and gave his coat pocket a pat where the hundred pounds now rested.

Now, I shall pay Lydia a visit and see what she knows about her sister.

London

A Charity House

Entering the bakery attached to the charity where he had left Lydia months ago, George Wickham prayed he would not happen upon the proprietrix. Lady Clara would likely recall his face, and he had no desire to answer questions about why he had deserted Lydia and his child.

Delighted to find a young girl who looked no older than eighteen behind the counter, George removed his hat and walked in her direction. Putting on his most charming smile, he pulled a pound note from a pocket in his new suit and placed it on the counter. “I hope I am not too late to purchase a bag of your delicious, sweet buns. I have not been in London in an age, and I could not recall what time your shop closes.”

The girl returned his smile. “You have arrived just in time. We close for luncheon in a quarter of an hour and reopen an hour later. Now, which sweet buns do you fancy? Personally, I love the cinnamon.”

Wickham nodded. “I am partial to the cinnamon, too, Miss—?” He hesitated, hoping she would reveal her name.

“People call me Tillie.”

“Well, Miss Tillie, might I purchase a dozen and buy one for you as well?”

“You may purchase whatever we have left, though I fear it is less than a dozen and, as for gifting me one, we are forbidden to accept any gifts.”

After the girl had retrieved ten sweet buns, wrapped each in paper and placed them in a box, she held it out to Wickham. He handed her a tuppence, and when she began counting out change, he winked, saying, “Keep it to buy yourself a gift.”

Pretending he was leaving, he started towards the door, stopped and turned. “I heard a rumour that a distant cousin of mine resides here, but I feared to ask Lady Cunningham about her. I heard that she is loath to discuss those who reside here.”

The girl nodded. “She is, but I will tell you how your cousin is faring if you will share her name.”

“Her name is Lydia; however, she may be using an alias. She is about your height, with brown hair and brown eyes. I was told she was hurt in an accident and had a terrible scar on her face.”

“Oh, I know who you mean. She calls herself Fanny, and she has a daughter, Emma, who is not yet a year old.”

“Are they both well?”