Page 37 of Losing Lizzy
Darcy shook his head in the negative. “I am no titled gentleman, but I am willing to pay for your assistance in the search for my child or for any information you may have on a man called ‘Sidney Townsend.’”
“Townsend? He involved?” The man frowned in obvious disapproval.
Darcy nodded, as he gently stroked Elizabeth’s back, keeping her close in case the situation turned sour.
“Yes, Townsend from near Tunbridge Wells. Supposedlya groom at Rosings Park near Rochester.” He would not mention that Rosings Park was owned by his aunt.
The man’s eyebrow shot upward. “Townsend, a groom? That scoundrel can barely sit a horse. If’n the owner of Rosings Park be such a fool as to hire a man with no skills, mayhap I shud seek employment there.”
Darcy asked, “May I employ you long enough to search the island? The cloud bank indicates a storm approaches, and it is becoming dark. Once we lose the light, our hopes of finding the child fade.”
The man motioned to his partner. “We each search this island every evening.” He likely meant they made certain others did not come for the stash of goods they had hidden somewhere upon the strip of land. “No one has sent up an alarm of discovering an excise man or a child.” The fellow’s eyebrow rose in challenge, meaning he would not permit Darcy to wander about the place.
It was Darcy’s turn to frown. “We were specifically told by someone involved in this caper that Townsend had been ordered to abandon our child upon an uninhabited island in the Medway Estuary.”
The man looked off to the east. “If I didn’t want someone found ‘till it be too late to change the outcome, I’d choose Deadman’s Island, not Burntwick. No one alive goes there unless he be burying the remains of someone who died upon a diseased ship.”
Darcy’s heart plummeted. “For that very reason, I never considered Deadman’s Island.” His voice broke when he belatedly realized his aunt would be cruel enough to order his child placed in such an environment. If Lady Catherine paid to have him pressed upon a pirate ship, she would not consider his illegitimate child worthy of being spared.
He felt Elizabeth clutch his lapels in distress. “Fitzwilliam,” she pleaded.
He looked to the man, a total stranger, but one he had the uncanny suspicion was more than a smuggler—he was an honest man. “May I trust you to see my wife returnedto the mainland where her uncle awaits us. I cannot chance having her infected on that island.” He knew the likelihood of any disease remaining from the bodies was next to nil, but Darcy did not want her on such a place. It was bad enough his daughter could be hiding somewhere on an island named “Deadman’s.”
She pounded his chest in a fit of rage. “You cannot think to leave me behind,” Elizabeth protested. “You cannot ... I cannot ... please.”
He knew she would not change her mind easily, but he had made his decision, nonetheless. “Listen to me, Elizabeth.” He gave her shoulders a solid shake to force her to respond. “It is nearly two miles to Deadman’s Island, and a storm approaches. It will be upon me before I can reach the island. I require you to return to Sheffield’s side. If I do not reach Elizabeth Anne, then you and Sheffield must take up the task. Our daughter should not lose both her parents in an act of madness. Through no fault of her own, our child lost her father once already. She does not really know me, and my loss would be sad, yet, not memorable. However, she would be broken to lose her mother. Elizabeth Anne requires you to be strong, and so do I. Tell me you understand.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I understand,” she said through trembling lips. “But how will I know if you have her?”
He was desperate to be gone and said the first thing to come to his mind, no matter how preposterous it was. “After the storm passes, I will light the lantern and place it on the highest point on the island as a signal we are together. If she is there, I will carry her to your waiting arms in the morning.”
“Where should I go to watch for the light?” She followed him toward the dinghy.
He doubted anyone would see a candle burning from so far, but he said, “Queenborough is less than a mile removed. Choose somewhere along Shepherd’s Creek. Just know if I am not successful, you and Sheffield must seek out our daughter with the dawn.”
“You will be successful,” she declared as she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly.
When she wrapped her arms about his waist for a final embrace, he spoke to the men who trailed behind them. “I ask again. Do you give me your word to see my wife safely returned to her uncle?”
“Aye, sir,” the man declared firmly. “We’ll see it done properly. Before the storm.”
Darcy set Elizabeth to the side to reach for one of his cards. “If you discover Townsend, deliver him to this address in the Capital. Either my cousin, who is in residence there, or I will see you paid handsomely. Just be forewarned my cousin is a retired colonel of the army.”
The man pocketed the card and presented Darcy a toothy grin. “If’n we discover Townsend, we’ll wait fer yer return befoe we deliver the ne’er-do-well.” He motioned to Elizabeth. “We should be gone before the storm, ma’am. Follow me.”
Darcy watched her leave with the man, belatedly realizing he did not ask either man for his name. He risked much by not taking her with him. He risked more, however, if he were to be so foolish. Dragging the dinghy back toward the water, he, again, climbed in and took up the oars. He had never visited Deadman’s Island. Few had. Like Burntwick, he knew Deadman’s Island was crisscrossed by narrow tidal channels, which meant it was currently separated into several smaller islands because of the high tide. Some channels could be crossed by simply trudging through the standing water. Others were swiftly running streams. The island, itself, was marshy and covered by mudbanks. At one time, prison hulks moored there. Those who died were left upon the island to decompose in shallow graves.
“Please, God,” he prayed as he turned the rowboat toward where he hoped to know an end to this nightmare. “I keep turning to you, God, and, in your infinite wisdom, you keep sending me messages. This time I ask that you extend your hand over my child. Protect her until her earthly father can do his duty to her and her mother.”
As quickly as he left the shallow creek for the open water, the wind whipped up, and within minutes the firstbands of rain arrived. “Under these conditions, this could take me more than an hour,” he groaned as he fought to keep the dinghy upright. “Yet, I shall not stop until I am either at the bottom of the sea or I find Elizabeth Anne. Neither her mother nor I can live without the child.”
Chapter Thirteen
With each stroke ofthe oars, Darcy repeated his prayer, the one protecting his daughter from harm. When the rain started, he had shoved the blanket, the lantern, Elizabeth Anne’s doll, and the food Elizabeth had packed for them beneath the seat upon which he sat, hoping to keep it all relatively dry. Thankfully, the rain had not been as heavy so he had expected, but the winds had him fighting not to be driven into the Kentish coastline. He was soaked, not from the rain, but from his efforts to reach his child.
After what felt forever, Deadman’s Island came into view. Under the dark skies, it appeared more daunting than he had expected. The thought of a three-year-old left alone on such a place had him uttering a mix of prayers for the child’s safety, along with a string of curses, wishing Townsend and the man’s employer to the fires of Hell for the atrocities practiced against his family.
With a final burst of effort, he rammed the dinghy upon the so-called beach, actually a strip of marshland, just as it had been on Burntwick Island. Jumping out, he dragged the small boat onto the dry land so it would not float away. He paused only long enough to catch his breath and to shake out his arms to be rid of the cramps tightening his muscles in painful spasms.
