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“Have you already arrested Sir Laurence?” Darcy asked.
“He was not at home,” St. Clair replied. “We believe he is on his ship. If so, he will not be aboard much longer.”
A revenue cutter had entered the port, effectively blocking the merchantman’s ability to exit it. Meanwhile, the marines had been joined by a group of customs officials who had emerged from the harbormaster’s office. Together, they swarmed the Black Cormorant.
Just as the admiral, St. Clair, Wentworth, and Darcy walked up the gang-board from the quay to the deck, the marine sergeant emerged from the master’s cabin with Sir Laurence. Another man was with the baronet. Darcy did not recognize him, but Captain St. Clair did.
“Lieutenant Wilton,” St. Clair muttered. “Apparently, Sir Laurence wasted no time in finding another ship’s master. We shall relieve him of command, as well.”
Admiral Croft turned to St. Clair. “You may do the honors, Captain. You have earned the pleasure.”
St. Clair stepped forward. “This ship is hereby seized by the crown,” he a
“These charges are made on whose word, Lieutenant?” Sir Laurence regarded St. Clair disdainfully. “That of a killer?”
“That of Captain St. Clair,” said the admiral, “senior officer in His Majesty’s navy, who has been investigating you and your fellow conspirators under the orders and authority of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty.”
The admiral’s reply gave Sir Laurence pause, but only for a moment. “You must be very confident to arrest me,” he said. “I have influential friends.”
“We shall see if they remain your friends when they learn you are a thief,” St. Clair replied. “Not to mention a murderer.” He looked to the sergeant. “Take him.”
As the arrests were made, Darcy and Captain Wentworth rejoined their wives back on the Cobb. They watched Sir Laurence being led away.
“What a relief to finally see Sir Laurence exposed as a murderer,” Mrs. Smith muttered.
Captain Wentworth regarded her in puzzlement. “How did you come to know about Captain Tourner?”
“Captain Tourner? I have no idea who you refer to. I was thinking of another man entirely—one whom my husband told me about before he died. On his voyage home from the West Indies, Mr. Smith and his companions were involved in a very frightening battle in which they had to defend themselves. My husband took down a French sailor with his pistol, but he said Sir Laurence’s shot struck a young British lieutenant.”
“Intentionally?” Darcy asked.
“My husband said it appeared so, but he could not comprehend why Sir Laurence would do such a thing. The incident troubled him greatly. He raved about it repeatedly in the delirium of his final days.”
“Did he name the officer?” Darcy asked.
“Fitz-something. Fitzgerald? No—that is not it. I am sorry—I have long forgotten. At the time, my attention was absorbed by utterances he made of a more personal nature.”
Darcy looked once more at Sir Laurence. The gentleman Darcy would have welcomed into his family had dispassionately stolen the life of one of its members. Even now, the baronet left the Cobb with an outward air of dignity that belied the dark soul within.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into Darcy’s. “At last, you have your answer—we know for certain it was Sir Laurence who killed your cousin. Why do you look so troubled?”
“I am contemplating how much of Sir Laurence’s beguiling was his doing, and how much was mine. I believe I allowed his title and fortune to blind me to his true character.”
“He is well practiced at deceit.”
“I thought I was well practiced at unmasking it.”
Thirty-Seven
“While we were together, you know, there was nothing to be feared.”
After their time beside the sea, London felt cramped and noisy to Darcy. Its streets seemed too level, its buildings too numerous, its air too close. Though their town house was, as ever, an oasis of peace amidst the urban din, he was glad their time in the city would be of short duration. Soon they could return home to Pemberley, stopping en route to deliver Gerard’s sea chest to Riveton Hall—the final destination of its long journey.
First, however, Darcy was obliged to testify against Mr. Elliot and Sir Laurence in the Court of Admiralty. Artifacts had been found on both their properties—in the quarry caves at Sidmouth and in Sir Laurence’s art collection at Thornberry. When the evidence was combined with the testimony of Captain St. Clair, Admiral Croft, Darcy, and others, it was expected that the trials would be resolved fairly quickly. The numerous courts-martial for the corrupt naval officers would continue much longer.
Captain St. Clair called upon them nearly every evening. The Darcys had him to di
Now that the naval officer was free to represent himself honestly, Darcy found that he liked the young captain quite well—well enough that when he discovered his sister reading the Navy List in the drawing room one afternoon, he sat down on the sofa and looked at it with her.
They talked—about Mr. Wickham and Sir Laurence, about trust broken and judgment deceived. They forgave each other—and most important, forgave themselves—for their perceived failure to recognize such determined scoundrels until nearly too late. They shuddered at what might have been, and looked forward to what might be.
“Sir Laurence is a criminal, and I am grateful to have escaped the future I thought I wanted,” Georgiana said, “but I did learn something from him. The more I reflect upon my conversations with him, the more I realize how much they were about him—his interests, his tastes, his opinions—and how little about me. I think he had decided to acquire a wife, and I answered his criteria. Had we wed, I would have become simply another object in his collection. Next time, I shall hold out for a man who expresses at least passing curiosity about what I think, and feel, and want.”
“What is it that you want, Georgiana?”
“Purpose, foremost—something more meaningful than endless balls and di
They were in no hurry for her to go. “Pemberley is your home as long as you want it.”
“I know it is. But I would like to be mistress of my own. It does not have to be a grand home, just mine—and my husband’s, of course.”
Darcy smiled. “I am glad to hear you intend to let him share it, whoever the poor fellow may be.”
“You should indeed feel sorry for him, as my previous failures have increased my requirements. I want a man of integrity and principle, whom I can respect and admire, who respects and appreciates me in turn, and who makes me feel safe, happy, and loved.” She paused. “In short, I want what Elizabeth has.”