Pirates and Prejudice (2 page)

Chapter 2

The sound of men’s voices slowly roused Darcy. It was
damp and cold; his muscles ached. The light of dawn barely lit his quarters,
and he squinted, trying to adjust to the dim surroundings.

As he looked
about him, it took several moments to ascertain his whereabouts. When he saw
the bars across from him, he was jolted awake at the recollection of the events
of the previous night.

He ran his
fingers through the tangled curls in his hair and warily sat up. He could not
decide whether he dreaded more being assaulted this morning by the consequences
of his hard drinking last night or by the mercenary men who believed him to be
this infamous escaped pirate named Lockerly.

He shook his
head in anger and despondency. He was furious with himself and despaired of his
current situation. He had allowed himself to wallow in the depths of his misery
to such an extent that he was no longer recognizable as Fitzwilliam Darcy –
neither inwardly nor outwardly.

“God, help me!”
he uttered in a hushed pleading, his eyes closed and his hands clasped together
tightly. “Is anyone to believe who I am, or shall I go to the gallows and die?”

He leaned
against the wall, and his head fell back. He tried to swallow, but his mouth
was dry, his lips cracked, and his throat parched. Looking to his right, he
noticed a basin of water and a cup. He dipped the cup in the water and took a
sip.

He spit it out
immediately as the bitter taste assaulted his tongue. But even the small amount
of moisture felt good in his mouth, so he took another sip and swallowed,
grimacing as he did. Despite the foul taste, it did help ease his thirst.

I must convince
them that I am Fitzwilliam Darcy and be set free from this detestable place!

“Hello, there!”
He stood up and walked to the door of his cell, grabbing the bars tightly. He
could hear the men off in another room.

He called out
again as he rubbed the tight muscles in his arm. “I demand to talk to someone!”
His head began to swim again with dizziness and pound with pain, and he was
only able to mutter weakly, “I am not this Lockerly! You have the wrong man!”

When no one took
heed of his cries, Darcy returned to the hard slab that had been his bed.
Sitting back down, he put his head in his hands and massaged his forehead with
his fingers. He took in a deep breath to help calm his stomach.

The image of his
sister, Georgiana, came to mind, and he wondered what she would think if she
came to learn of the disgraceful condition – and place – in which he now found
himself!

He had not seen
her since he first returned from Kent. It had been futile to try to keep his
melancholy from her. She knew him so well. He could not tell her – he could not
tell a single soul – that the one woman he had allowed himself to love had
refused his offer of marriage. It was far too great a mortification; not only
because she had turned him down, but also because he had been so completely
wrong in his estimation of her regard towards him.
And
in the man he
thought he was.

Georgiana had
readily seen in his face and demeanour the anguish he felt. She repeatedly
asked him what was wrong, and he continually assured her – with little success
– that nothing was amiss. He could see the look of worry deepen on her
features.

He finally
deemed it prudent to distance himself from her before she became more concerned
about him than she already was. He decided he must leave before she discovered
the truth.

He sent her to
Pemberley to spend the summer there, which she did each year. As he bade her
farewell, Darcy had forced a loving smile on his face, which was not too
difficult where his sister was concerned. He told her that he would not be
staying in London for long, but would be visiting friends and would try to
write to her as often as possible.

He closed his
eyes as remorse flooded him that he had only written her once. He shuddered at
the thought that she might come to learn he had been thrown in prison. It was
imperative that they release him!

Darcy heard the
sound of footsteps, which came to a stop in front of him. He slowly lifted his
head and found himself looking into the face of a tall, well-dressed man.

“Finally!” Darcy
exclaimed, steeling himself against the painful throbbing of his muscles and
head. “Please, you must tell them I am not Lockerly.”

“They say you
claim to be Fitzwilliam Darcy.” The man looked at him through narrow eyes. “I
am slightly familiar with
who
that gentleman is, but I must confess I
was not aware that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was such a slovenly character as is
before me.”

“You must
believe that I am he!” Darcy implored him.

“Hmm…” The man
continued to scrutinize Darcy, rubbing his chin as his eyes swept over him. “In
order to do that, you must open your shirt and show me your right shoulder.”

Darcy shook his
head in disbelief. “You want me to what?”

“Lockerly has a
very prominent scar that goes from his shoulder to the centre of his chest. If
you have no scar, you cannot be him.”

Darcy fumbled
with the buttons on his shirt and opened it.

The man gave a
wave of his hand. “You may close it now.”

Darcy looked at
him with pleading eyes. “And?”

“I would have to
agree with you. You are
not
Archibald Lockerly.”

“Heavens, I am
grateful to hear that.” Darcy felt a surge of hope flood him. “You believe me.”

“Yes, but I must
confess that in your current condition,” he waved his hand through the air,
“you look a great deal like Lockerly and I would surmise not at all like
Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“But at least
you believe me.”

The man unlocked
the cell door and walked in, extending his hand. “I am Edward Foster of the
Thames River Police.”

Darcy reached
out and took his hand. “It is good to make your acquaintance, sir. I am, truly,
Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Foster sat
beside him. “I am of the opinion that if Lockerly was truly trying to pass
himself off as Fitzwilliam Darcy, he would have done it a little differently.”
His gaze swept over Darcy and his attire. “I hope you will accept my apologies
for the unpleasant manner in which you have been treated and realize it was a
simple mistake.”

“How is it that
you could see that I am not Lockerly, but no one else here could?”

“He was being
held down in Brighton, so no one here has actually seen him. I, however, have
been in the man’s putrid presence a great deal. These men were basing their
conviction that they had the correct man strictly from a drawing.”

“So I may go?”
Darcy asked and started to stand up.

Foster reached
out and stopped him. “Not quite yet.” Foster raised his shoulders as he took in
a sharp breath. “Look, Mr. Darcy, I will not bother you with questions about
why you look like this, but I believe your showing up here – looking as you do
– was very providential.”

Darcy cocked his
head at him. “How is that?”

Foster took in a
deep breath. “This Lockerly is a slippery one. We had him and his ruffian band
in custody, locked up, and when he was being transported to London, he was
snatched out of our hands.” Foster paused and looked intently at the man next
to him. “Mr. Darcy, we may need you to do something for us.”

Darcy let out a
breath he had been holding. The relief of Foster’s words coupled with his
curiosity had helped clear his mind immensely. He leaned towards Foster.
“Exactly what do you want me to do?”

The man stood up
and faced Darcy. “We would like you to impersonate Lockerly for a short while.
We will spread word that he is recruiting men to make up a new crew.”

Darcy bolted to
his feet and then sank down quickly as his head began to spin. “You want me to
what?”

“The news of
your capture… that is, Lockerly’s capture, has spread like a wildfire. At the
moment, I am the only one who knows a mistake has been made.” Foster spoke, his
voice barely a whisper now.

Darcy shook his head
in disbelief. “This is absurd! I cannot be someone I am not!”

“Even for the
good of the country? For the lives of innocents that may be lost?” Foster sat
down again. “Unfortunately... or fortunately, I suppose it depends on how you
look at it… in the state you are in now, you do look a good deal like Lockerly.
If we could use you as bait to lure him into our net, we would be forever
grateful.”

“But I am no
sailor. I have some basic knowledge of sailing, but not a large vessel and
definitely not out in the high seas.”

Foster let out a
laugh. “You are getting ahead of yourself, my good man. We expect that Lockerly
will hear that someone is claiming to be him and will make himself known. I
will have two men with you at all times for your protection.  They will be
passing themselves off as two of your sailors.”

“You actually
want me to recruit pirates?” Darcy asked incredulously.

Foster nodded.

“Definitely not!
No, it is too risky,” Darcy replied, shaking his head. He looked into Foster’s
eyes. “What if one of these men realizes I am not Lockerly?”

Foster let out a
puff of air. “You look just like him. But in addition to that, all of his men
were hung. Not one is left. He is probably hiding out somewhere, but I doubt he
is anywhere near London.”

Darcy forced his
mind to think. “Then how will he come to hear about me… him… another Lockerly?”

“Word travels
fast around the docks and up and down the Thames and the English Channel. We
will spread word around, and I can guarantee he will hear about it. If you can
give me a week… no more than ten days… hopefully he will show up to confront
this imposter. We will be waiting for him when he comes.”

Darcy was not
convinced. “Confronting that imposter is what has me concerned, as well as
rounding up a crew of disreputable men to be pirates!” Darcy let out a huff.
“Both are ludicrous and could put me in a very precarious situation!”

“Calm down, Mr.
Darcy. When Lockerly comes, we will be ready for him. And chances are the men
who want to join you will be young lads who are only looking for adventure. You
will have nothing to worry about with them.”

Darcy sat still
and groaned, the shaking of his head the only movement.

“I do not know
how much you have heard about Lockerly, but the man has rarely taken a life on
his own. Granted, he will seize a ship and leave it burning while the crew of
that ship is stranded in lifeboats, but his main goal has been to
liberate
its treasure and be on his way. It is true that at his hands many lives have
been lost at sea when they were not rescued, but he is not a man prone to
fighting or taking a life intentionally when he does not have to.” Foster
paused and cradled his chin in his hand. “Yet, I have heard amazing stories
about his fencing ability. More often than not, his captives surrender before
any harm is inflicted.”

“I am still not
convinced of this. Certainly someone else can do it.”

Foster regarded
Darcy for a moment. “By the looks of you, I would guess that you have gone
through some sort of adversity. Consider this a way to work your way through it
while helping us out.” Foster shook his head. “There is no one else who can do
this. Pictures of Lockerly are everywhere.” He pulled out a drawing and showed
it to Darcy. “You have to admit there is a resemblance.”

Darcy scowled at
the likeness. “Anyone with a week’s worth of beard and unkempt attire would
suffice.”

“No, only you
will do.”

Darcy stood up
and walked over to the door again and grasped the bars. “Let me go home and
think about this.”

Foster cleared
his throat. “Unfortunately, Darcy, you will need to remain here another day. We
have to keep up the illusion of Lockerly being in custody.” Foster slapped
Darcy on the back. “Besides, I would surmise that you would not return home
unless you had cleaned yourself up. Can I assume that you have not been staying
at Pemberley or your home here in this condition?” He said this as more of a
statement than a question.

Darcy groaned.

“In addition, I
do not think you would wish for news of your imprisonment and your destitute
state to reach your family. I fear if I release you as Fitzwilliam Darcy, there
would be no way to prevent that.”

Darcy abruptly
turned around. “How dare you!”

Foster shook his
head. “It would not be by my doing, Mr. Darcy. That would be what would happen
if you left this place as Mr. Darcy. But…” Foster stood up and stepped to
Darcy’s side. “If you leave this place with me as Lockerly, no one would need
to know.”

Darcy looked
down and covered his head with his hands. “If that is how it is to be, then so
be it.”

“Excellent! I
need to work on the details of how we are going to play this out, but I will
get back to you on the morrow. In the meantime, do not mention to anyone here
about being Fitzwilliam Darcy. I do not want word of this to get around.”