Mr Darcy and the Cold Trail

Chapter 1: Lord Alex Caine

In the summer of 1811, Fitzwilliam Darcy was back in London from Pemberley by mid July. He had a week of business meetings planned, after which he would join his young sister Georgiana in Ramsgate.

At this time of year London was, of course, deserted by society. Solitude was not normally a problem for Darcy. However, by his second evening in town, he felt as unsettled as the unusually hot and stormy weather.

After a late lone dinner, Darcy took his drink into the library and attempted to cure his restlessness by reading. It was not long before he cast the book aside in frustration.

Another storm was brewing and, by the sound of it, closing in fast. Darcy walked over to a window, drew back the curtain and looked out at the street. Grey clouds hid the sunset, darkening the skies early. Nobody was around. Thunder was close and loud and rain started falling.

Darcy opened the long window a little to let in some cool air. He dragged a chair over and settled in to watch the show. After the thunder eased, the rain was hypnotic and he fell asleep.

The returning storm woke Darcy. Throwing off the shades of sleep he stood up, stretched and looked out the window. The sound of thunder was ominous and persistent. The rain was heavy.

A sudden bolt of lightning illuminated the scene below and Darcy watched as a lone carriage made its way up the street. To his surprise, the carriage stopped outside his house, its four horses nervous and dripping. While the driver held the horses, a groom jumped down to open the coach door. Darcy caught a glimpse of a tall caped figure that leapt out of the coach without waiting for the groom to lower the stairs. Moments later, there was a loud banging on Darcy's front door.

Despite the late hour and the lack of a knocker, someone was demanding entrance to the Darcy townhouse.

Even though he was curious and, to be truthful, very hopeful of an interesting diversion, Darcy remained in the library. It was beneath his dignity to be too interested. Wilkens the butler would deal with the visitor. He heard the front door open and voices in the foyer but could not hear what was said.

Soon enough there was a knock on the library door and Wilkens entered. "Mr Darcy", he said apologetically, "Lord Alex Caine has called and requests a word."

"Lord Alex Caine?" Darcy said. "Alex Caine! Of all people! I haven't seen him for years! No one has."

"I did say you were not at home to visitors."

"It's all right, Wilkens. I will see him. Bring him in here." Darcy stood.

"Very good, sir." Wilkens left the room. He returned shortly with Darcy's guest.

"Lord Alex Caine" announced Wilkens.

" Alex Caine. What a surprise!"

"Will Darcy" said Lord Alex, bowing deeply. "Please forgive this intrusion."

Darcy returned the bow. "Think nothing of it! You are most welcome."

Greeting rituals allowed Darcy to study his visitor, a man he had hardly seen since university days. Alex wore impeccable evening dress that did not hide his powerful frame. His long dark hair was tied back neatly; his green eyes were smiling but wary and yes, tired.

"Would you like me to bring coffee, Mr Darcy?" Wilkens asked.

"Yes thank you, Wilkens." said Darcy, pouring a drink for Alex and topping up his own.

As Wilkens departed to organise coffee, Darcy and Alex settled down in the chairs by the cold fireplace.

Darcy was rapidly trying to remember everything he could about Lord Alex Caine, a man known for being more socially elusive than Darcy himself. There were even rumours he was a spy!

Now the man looked exhausted and seemed disinclined to speak. Darcy really hoped he wasn't going to have to carry the conversation!

He made an effort. "I heard you had moved to the continent" he said, "It must be years." Darcy paused as he remembered the tragedy that befell the Caine family seven years earlier.

Alex said, "After we lost Hugh."

"Yes, I remember. That was tragic...inexplicable."

"Indeed." said Alex. Alex's elder brother Hugh was foully murdered, about seven years ago. The murderer was never caught.

Wilkens and a housemaid arrived with the coffee. Darcy need not have worried. After the servants departed, Alex was very much inclined to talk.

"Darcy, while I wish this was purely a social call, I am in urgent need of some information from you."

"From me?"

"Yes. I'd better explain. I know that rumour has me as some kind of spy, doing noble service for king and country. That is not so, though my work involves extensive investigation. Truth is I am involved in finding and capturing a certain type of criminal, the kind of murderer who kills repeatedly. I mostly work on the continent but occasionally on these shores. My motivation is purely personal.

For the past six months, my cousin Jack Caine and I have been tracking a particularly wily and elusive criminal through several countries including, most recently, this one. This type of killer usually works alone, however it became obvious to us that this criminal had help, an assistant. While this assistant did not seem to participate in the murders, he certainly helped the assailant escape us on several occasions and at least once altered the crime scene in an attempt to throw us off the scent."

Darcy said "A strange story. Why would someone aid a murderer, without being directly involved?"

Alex hesitated, and then said, "There is undoubtedly payment or a relationship of some kind or other...this killer favours young girls. It is possible he pays his assistant to find them for him."

"That is diabolical! Have you any idea who these men are?" asked Darcy.

"Possibly. Of the murderer, we received matching descriptions from one or two victims who lived long enough to speak. Just above average height, long straight fair hair, pale skin, thin, wiry but strong, very strong. We had no description of the assistant; indeed we had surmised his existence before we had any proof of it.

They were always just one step ahead of us as we moved from village to village, town to town. Where would they be next? Questioning people - victims, families, and innkeepers - slowed us down but was essential.

At the end of one tiring and frustrating day we stopped at a large inn in a busy market town. We were done in. I was falling asleep over my food when Jack said softly.

'Don't turn around. On the other side of the room, in the corner, there is someone I have been watching. He is mostly withdrawn into the shadows. He is wearing a cloak with the hood up, covering his face, but once he leaned forward to speak to his companion and I saw pale skin and long fair hair. '

'Companion? Can you see his face?' I asked.

'He has his back mostly to me. I can just see the side of his face. He too is wearing a cloak but with the hood down. Dark wavy hair, cut short. He would be tall, I'd say, as tall as you, easily.'

Then Jack said. 'He looks familiar - the companion'.

At that moment, there was an uproar outside, yelling and screaming – 'Murder, murder!' The door burst open and a man came in carrying the bloody body of young girl. Several other people, sobbing and screaming, followed him into the room. We were instantly on our feet, as the room erupted into panic and hysteria.

'They're on the move!' hissed Jack. Although hindered by the press of people I managed a quick look at the tall one, as he followed his companion out the back door. In his haste, his hood was still down. We were closer to the front door but it seemed to take forever to get through the crowd and outside. By then, the two had vanished. We searched all night but found no trace of them. "

Alex said, "Jack was right. The man seemed familiar, but I had only a quick impression and could not place him. The next morning we talked to the innkeeper. The tall one had paid for a room they didn't, as it turned out, sleep in. The innkeeper said the man was English and gave his name."

"What name?"

"Darcy".

A cold bitterness filled Fitzwilliam Darcy as he realised where this was probably heading.

"Surely you didn't think it was I? There are plenty of Darcys. It might also be a false name."

"I am sure it was a false name, for him. My impression was that, physically, the man could have been you. Jack agreed. However, we found it hard to believe. It did not square with our memories of you, your character."

"Thank you for that!" Darcy laughed harshly.

"It was also easy, when we returned to these fair shores, to find proof that you had not left the country in recent years."

"True," said Darcy.

"So we thought about relatives of yours, cousins or brothers."

"You know I don't have a brother!"

"Yes I do. I also know that your Fitzwilliam cousins don't look at all like you. There is someone else, though, isn't there? There were rumours at Cambridge. I have been kicking myself for it took me weeks to remember his existence, let alone his name. Not the sort of man one wants to spend any time with, so, easily forgotten."

Darcy saw red. "He is NOT my brother!"

"I see we are of two minds," said Alex. "George Wickham."

"Yes. I wish I could forget him!" Darcy briefly buried his face in his hands and groaned. Would he never be free from the pernicious legacies of his father's advancement of his favourite godson - that lazy, weak, dangerously charming servant?

Darcy raised his head and stared at Alex. "You said they are now back in this country?"

"Yes, they are. To our shame, we lost their trail for weeks. We now know they crossed about six weeks ago but they went to ground very quickly. They are still very elusive but a name can only help us.

Assuming it is Wickham, we have sent out spies in every direction attempting to locate him. Jack went east. I have been south to no avail. That brings me to you. Have you seen anything of George Wickham lately?"

"Not for two years or more."

At that moment, there was another loud banging on the front door. "That might be an express for me." said Alex apologetically. "I left word I would be calling here."

A knock at the library door signalled the entrance of Wilkens. "An express for Lord Alex. Excuse me, my lord, but the rider says it is urgent. He also needs an answer."

"Thank you" said Alex. He read quickly. "Excellent!"

Wilkens had writing materials at hand. Alex quickly scrawled a reply and gave it to Wilkens.

"Good news?" asked Darcy.

"Yes! Darcy, I must go. Jack has located Wickham at an inn in an east coast town. He has been there the past three weeks and…"

"Which east coast town? Darcy interrupted, as a dreadful premonition took hold of him.

"Ramsgate. Why? What's the matter, Darcy?"

"My sister! Georgiana is in Ramsgate."