Before I get into this excerpt I wanted to mention that the sale of all my e-books is extended through the end of July. Although this sale doesn’t include my paperbacks, I am thinking about having a sale of just my paperbacks before too long. Will let you know if I do after I check and see what Amazon will allow.
Enjoy!
Chapter IX
April 1812—Liverpool—On the docks near the Ship Pride of England
Darcy struggled ineffectively against the ropes that bound his hands behind him. Unable to yell for help because of the gag fashioned out of a dirty rag that had been shoved into his mouth. He continued to twist and turn in his efforts to escape George Wickham and the unknown man who was helping to drag him toward a waiting ship. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Elizabeth. How will you and Georgiana fare? Will I ever see you again?
In his wildest dreams, he had never conceived being kidnapped by anyone, much less a former friend. He and Richard had never regretted cutting ties with Wickham when they’d attended Cambridge and only regretted that they could not convince George Darcy that the man was a total profligate and should be ejected from Pemberley permanently. The elder Darcy, however, was loath to ban his godson because Clive Wickham was not only his steward and friend, Clive had also saved George Darcy’s life when he was nearly gored by a bull that had broken out of its pen. The only blind spot the older man had was regarding his godson.
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s only fear was not knowing what George Wickham had in mind. Was he selling him into slavery? Was he getting rid of him for a time while Wickham pulled some nefarious scheme? Or was he looking to get rid of Darcy permanently? He shuddered to think any further as his former friend had such proclivities as to turn his stomach if he thought on them too long. With a sigh, he waited to see what Wickham would say to the captain.
“Captain Jamison.”
“Wickham, it’s good to see ye again. And who have ye brought me this time?”
Darcy began struggling again, trying to defend his honor. He kicked at Wickham but lost the fight when Wickham punched him in the face, and Darcy fell to his knees.
“Feisty bugger, ain’t he.”
“That he is. And before I forget, he looks very much like a man called Darcy. Fitzwilliam Darcy is richer than Croesus and owns half of Derbyshire. However, this man is not him. His name is Frederick Williams. He’s played on his likeness to Mr. Darcy several times and swindled a few people—including me—so don’t let him fool you. He owes me about 3,000 pounds that he’s reneged on, so I’m bringing him to you. I figure three years with you will keep him out of trouble…at least for a while. I’ll expect the usual bounty for press ganging him.” Wickham smiled, and so did the captain.
“Come to my cabin, and I’ll get yer money.” Gesturing to one of the onlookers, he said, “Take Williams to the brig until he regains his senses.” Then he turned and headed toward the Captain’s cabin. A wicked grin slid over Wickham’s face as he passed Darcy’s inert form and followed Jamison down the deck.
O’Brien grabbed Darcy by one arm and the man who accompanied Wickham grabbed the other, and they hauled him down to the brig and left him on a soiled cot to recover without having the ropes removed. When Darcy regained consciousness, he had little idea of where he was, much less what would happen to him. He then vowed he would move mountains to return to Elizabeth and Georgiana. Then he would deal with George Wickham.
***
“Williams…Williams, wake up.”
“Why? It’s just the same nightmare over and over again.”
“The cap’n said to cut you loose, and then I’m to train you about repairing the sails. You have hands of a workin’ man, but you been taking care of them as well. You keep yourself for the ladies?”
“No. I have only one lady.”
“No matter. You won’t be seeing her for a while. You be here about three years until you work your debt off.”
“I have no debts. People owe me. I garner very few debts and pay them on time or early. I don’t enjoy owing money…or favors.”
“That man said you owed him 3,000 pounds in vowels and hadn’t paid him. That’s why he had you press-ganged. Cap’n paid him a bounty, and now you need to pay him back. About three years’ worth.”
“Will not happen. I do not owe Wickham anything. He’s the profligate who runs up debts wherever he goes.” A scowl settled on Darcy’s forehead.
“Cap’n still don’t care.” The man shrugged. “All he wants is his money, one way or t’other.”
Getting up to stretch after O’Brien removed the ropes from his wrists, Darcy said he needed to speak with the captain. “I am most certainly not Frederick Williams…whoever he is,” insisted Will. “I am Fitzwilliam Christopher George Darcy, and I must convince the captain of who I am.”
“Williams. A piece of advice. The cap’n can be a fair man…sometimes. And sometimes not. He don’t like to be wrong or contradicted to. Best you leave him be. He’s also known for his whip. Don’t be temptin’ him now.”
“I must. I need to get off this ship before it sails.”
“Williams. Listen to me. You ain’t leavin’ this ship anytime soon.”
But Darcy wouldn’t listen. He was frantic to make sure that Elizabeth and Georgiana were well. Were they still at Pemberley, or had they come to London to locate him? He had to speak to the captain.
Approaching the first sailor he saw outside of the brig, Darcy demanded he bring him to Captain Jamison. The man’s eyes widened in surprise and fear. Then, reluctantly, the man did as requested.
“That be his door,” said the man and then all but ran out of sight when Darcy knocked.
“Come,” said a muffled voice on the other side of the door.
Darcy opened the narrow portal and stepped through.
“What do ye want, Williams?” growled the captain, looking up from his seat at a sturdy wooden table, where he was studying what appeared to be charts.
“Captain, my name is not Williams. My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I have an estate in Derbyshire. Before this ship sets sail, contact Colonel Fitzwilliam or the Earl of Matlock, my uncle, and they will vouch for me.”
“Nah! Wickham said you were a liar pretending to be this man, Darcy. Said you’d swindled several men with that act. I done paid for you for three years’ work. You’ll stay until you’re done.”
Darcy stiffened and squared his shoulders. “Captain, if you don’t contact my uncle, the earl will see you jailed.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, Williams. We sail on the tide, and ye be goin’ with us. Don’t say another word.”
“Captain…”
His fat fist landed on the table and he half stood, leaning forward, a menacing snarl curling his lips. “I said not another word, and I’m the law on this ship.” Gesturing to two sailors who came running down the corridor and stepped inside, he said, “Grab him.”
They grabbed Darcy, one on each side, and held tight despite his struggling to get free.
“Now, tie him to that hook and bring my whip.”
“Cap’n…”
“Button it, O’Brien, or ye’ll feel me whip as well.” Turning to the two men tying Darcy to the hook, the captain smiled at the pleasure he would derive in applying discipline on his ship. Williams would not speak up again.
“Strip his shirt off, and all of ye watch this. No one disobeys me on my ship.”
Then he applied the whip to Darcy’s bare back. Five strokes, ten strokes. But Darcy was unconscious well before the twentieth time the lash descended because the captain had applied the whip with full force, leaving Darcy’s back raw and bleeding.
“O’Brien, since you were so eager to coddle Williams, he be your charge…alone. You get to teach him and make sure he keeps his mouth shut and does what he’s told. Iffen he don’t, you get the whip. Hear me?”
“Yes, Cap’n Jamison.”
It took a week for Darcy to recuperate enough to work. He was fortunate to have O’Brien tend to his back, which was raw for several days. Darcy wondered if he could have bled to death if the man hadn’t tended him assiduously. He was grateful that someone on the ship cared.
However, while he was unconscious, the ship had sailed. There would be no uncle or Colonel to bail him out from this nightmare.
Chapter X
April 18l2—High Seas on the ship Pride of England
“Williams, are ye well?”
Darcy paused his mending of a split in the sail. “As well as can be expected after a second flogging. Scabs finally healed, and I am not in as much pain.”
O’Brien just looked at him and shook his head. He didn’t understand why Williams insisted he was some bloke called Darcy. The captain was not the easiest to accommodate, but Williams seemed to irritate the man with everything he said. Denying he was Frederick Williams was guaranteed to inflame Captain Jamison’s temper as Jamison had been told the man looked a lot like this Darcy fella but was not that rich man from Derbyshire. Mr. Wickham was not the only man owed money who gang pressed a debtor. The captain paid Wickham some money that was owed, and Williams would work the rest off for the next couple of years. That was, if he survived that long.
“Why don’t ye just admit to the captain that you are Frederick Williams, so he’ll not have ye whipped again for lying? Ain’t twice enough?”
“Because Frederick Williams is the lie,” Darcy ground out. “I really am Fitzwilliam Darcy. And, yes, I know Wickham. He and I grew up more or less like brothers. He, my cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, and I got into all sorts of mischief.”
Darcy stopped talking and looked thoughtful, but then continued working for the next quarter hour. Finally, he sighed, and said, “My father paid for Wickham to go to Eton and even Cambridge at the same time I attended. This would have given him an education that would have enabled him to gain a decent living even though he was only the son of my father’s steward. When he chose a life of dissipation, gambling, over-drinking, and womanizing, my father did not believe me when I informed him of Wickham’s choices. He died without ever finding out how wicked his godson had become.”
“Does this Wickham hate ye so much?”
Darcy twisted his lips into a wry smile. “Unfortunately, he does. Wickham envies me my status as a landowner, gentleman, and having what he wants but does not deserve. He is unwilling to work for a better life that he could have if he weren’t so desirous of having it handed to him on a silver platter. George even plotted to elope with a young lady who had a large dowry by making her think he loved her.” Looking at the deck, Darcy softly whispered, “She was but fifteen years of age and not even out yet.”
“She somebody ye knew, and did he ruin her?”
“Yes, I know her, but, thankfully, his plan was discovered, and we saved her.”
“Then, that was a good thing. I don’t cotton to those who hurt women or children.”
O’Brien laughed at Darcy’s puzzled expression.
“Cotton to?” Darcy asked. “I…have never heard that before.”
“T’ain’t surprised. I’ve traveled on three ships all over to world for nigh on ten years, and I find words most interestin’. When I was in the southern colonies, I learnt about ‘don’t cotton to.’ I guess it means to disagree with or mistrust. From what you say, I don’t cotton to your Wickham.”
Darcy snorted. “I don’t cotton to him either, but I don’t know why he did this to me or how it will end. I don’t understand why he just didn’t kill me.”
O’Brien stopped and looked at Darcy sideways with a bit of pity. “You got family back there?”
“My sister, Georgiana, and my wife, Elizabeth, the light of my life.”
“You wed new?”
“Yes, not even six months.” Darcy shuddered at a pain near his heart and rubbed his chest.
“She a special lady?”
“Yes, she’s more special than anyone in the world. Her smile lights up every room, her laugh makes you want to smile and laugh with her, and she cares for people in a way that draws them to her. And her eyes…they sparkle like sunshine on water on a summer day.”
O’Brien smiled at Darcy’s description and pictured the lady in his mind’s eye.
Darcy chuckled. “And she can be more impertinent than anyone I have ever known.” And both men laughed.
But then Darcy became quiet, and O’Brien noted that he wiped at his eyes and sniffed quietly.
Will I ever see Elizabeth and Georgiana again?
Noting Darcy’s melancholy, O’Brien offered to get water for both of them, which Will declined. He had a thought of going to bed after speaking with his friend but remembered a question he wanted to ask Williams, uh, Darcy, before doing so. When he returned, it shocked him to see that Williams was struggling with Hoskins, a giant of a man who equaled Darcy in height and outweighed him considerably. And Williams/Darcy was losing the battle to stay aboard the ship.
Yelling and dropping his cup, O’Brien rushed toward the railing where the two men struggled. But…he was too late.
“MAN OVERBOARD! MAN OVERBOARD!”
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