Page 36 of Losing Lizzy
“I am here,” he answered, as the rope began to move upward. He leaned back so he might “walk” up the remaining wall of the well rather than to be slammed into the bricks.
“William?” Her worry-filled face showed over the edge of the open well. “Please practice care.”
Each of her gestures of affection provided him the strength to carry on, which had been foolishly lacking but a few moments earlier. Finally, Jasper reached into the well and, quite literally, jerked Darcy to the surface.
“Thank you, Jasper,” he grunted as he elbowed his way up and over the well’s roughly defined opening. With what felt likea lifetime, and perhaps it was, he was flat on the ground upon his stomach, and Elizabeth was draped over him, whispering his name, her tears sliding down his neck.
As quickly as he could free himself from the rope about his waist, he rolled over to capture her to him. Lying on his back in the grass upon a cold damp ground with the woman he dearly loved draped across him was a moment he had dreamed of many times—naturally, without the audience and the cold, but a dream fulfilled, nevertheless. However, this idyllic memory would only be complete if their child was near. “Did you recover Elizabeth Anne at Rosings?”
His words must have reminded her of their dilemma, for she stiffened and sat up. “We did not reach Rosings.”
He sat also. “Did my message turn you around before you confronted Lady Catherine? When I heard your call, I thought you had news of Elizabeth Anne. In fact, I had hoped she was with you.”
Sheffield reached a hand down to Elizabeth and then one to him as the man explained, “Elizabeth encountered her cousin before we made it to the great house.” Sheffield smiled easily. “Knocked Mr. Collins to the ground and kicked him a few times before I could reach her.” He winked at Darcy. “You must remember, sir, never to rile the lady.”
“So noted,” Darcy said with a caress of her cheek. “Now, tell me, love, what did you learn from the estimable Mr. Collins?”
She glanced to the sky and frowned. “It is a long story, and we do not have much time. It will be dark soon. In short, Collins says Townsend, who is supposedly employed by your aunt, was instructed to capture Lizzy and to leave her unattended upon one of the islands at the mouth of the Medway Estuary.”
“My dearest Lord,” he groaned. “Will this never end?” He turned to his servants. “We must be to Queenborough Harbor immediately.” To Sheffield, he said, “Once your horses have cooled, please follow. For now, Elizabeth is coming with me. I want to know what happened at Hunsford Cottage before we reach the coast. We are headed into a smuggler’s den on BurntwickIsland, and I require information before I must negotiate with men who have defied more than one government excise man. The smugglers are said to have no regard for the law and my presence on the island will not be welcomed.”
* * *
“You understand, sir,” the man said for the third time since he had agreed to let Darcy the small dinghy, “the men on Burntwick will not take well to a stranger among their mix.” The boat was likely one left behind or stolen from a larger vessel, but it was the only one available.
“I understand,” Darcy assured, handing the man the coins upon which they had agreed. If your dinghy is lost in the approaching storm or destroyed in retaliation by those on Burntwick, Mr. Sheffield, here, will see you have a replacement.” He reached for Elizabeth’s hand. Although, Darcy remained hesitant about taking Elizabeth with him, he did not press the issue. He knew it would be fruitless to attempt to convince her not to travel with him to the island. Whether bonds of marriage had been pronounced or not, they were committed to each other: They had been a couple even long before she had finally accepted his proposal. In fact, he suspected some day, in the future, mayhap even long after they were gone, their love story would be the one by which all others would be judged. “Are you prepared, my dear?”
“I am prepared to know the return of my daughter,” she announced as she stepped carefully into the dinghy. If the high tide had not already arrived, their journey would have been easier. Burntwick was a flat, raised marshland barely a mile long and less than a mile wide that at one time was part of the parish of Upchurch and attached to Kent’s mainland. There was a narrow channel, called Stangate Creek, that separated the island from the Chetney Marshes. One of their fears for the child was if Lizzy was alone on the island, she might wander into an area that would become cut off by the high water and would not know what to do. Unfortunately for them, at high tide the island was separated into several smaller islands by the water.
Over the last twenty years, at various times, the island had been used by the government for a quarantine base for ships sporting some sort of onboard infection before the ship was permitted to enter the Thames, preventing the infection to reach London. The Capital had seen enough of plagues and contagions over the centuries. More importantly, of late, the North Kent Gang, a notorious group of smugglers, would not be happy for outsiders to appear suddenly upon ‘their’ island.
Darcy shoved off and deftly stepped into the boat, quickly settling himself on the seat and taking up the oars.
“Do you think Mr. Townsend is one of the smugglers?” she asked.
“My encounter with Townsend was brief, but from what all I have learned of the man, I doubt it. Those on the island are smugglers, but most who form such a gang are men just eking out a living. The custom duties on tea and spirits and a variety of other goods affects all Englishmen, but not equally. From what I observed of the home Townsend’s mother resides in, he does not share what money my aunt provided him with the lady. She lives in impoverishment. I am assuming he has been in Brighton for some time?”
“A few months,” she confided.
“Even staying at the boarding house, food, drink, and his passing his time atThe Dingy Rosemust have cost Lady Catherine a fair sum,” he observed.
After that, they remained silent for the remainder of their short journey, each lost in his or her own thoughts. “Allow me to go first,” he said as he directed the dingy onto the marshy beach. “My boots are more appropriate for the damp ground.” He nimbly stepped out of the boat and tugged it up onto the beach. When she stood, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the drier area.
“The blanket,” she said looking back to the boat.
“I will fetch it,” he assured as he set her on her feet. Despite the trials remaining before them, he smiled upon her. “I find I am quite satisfied to follow your orders.”
She glanced upward, “We must hurry. We are racing against both dusk and what appears to be another storm rolling in.”
However, before he had the opportunity to respond, the sound of two clicks of guns coming close together said they had company upon their right and their left. “This be not the place for a lovers’ tryst,” a voice announced.
Darcy slowly raised his hands. “We have no tryst planned. We have been told a man who has stolen our three-year-old daughter away has abandoned her on this island. All we wish is an opportunity to search for her.”
“There be no child on the island.” The man gestured toward the dinghy. “I suggest you return to the mainland while you may.”
Uncharacteristically, Elizabeth buried her face in her hands, rather than to argue with the man. “Please, sir,” she wailed with a well-placed sniffle, and Darcy realized the sham she practiced. He worked hard to hide the surprise at her display of emotions. “We have trailed the man from Brighton, across Sussex—” Another sniffle followed by a hiccup. “From Tunbridge Wells to Rochester and now here. We cannot simply leave without knowing for certain!” She turned and buried her face in his shirt. Darcy held her close—close enough to know there were no damp tears upon his shirt, even though her shoulders heaved and shuddered in apparent distress.
“Why would someone steal away your child? You be someone important?”
