“No, sir, and I cannot say when he will be found. More I cannot say, sir.” Tanner’s jaw flexed firm. There would be no more information in that quarter. “But perhaps I myself or some others of Mr. Dyfed’s friends may be of service?” Tanner’s eyes did not flinch from Darcy’s studied scrutiny, nor did he seem uncomfortable in his humble stance before him. Darcy considered his options. They seemed to come down to the fact that Dy trusted this man. Could he claim any more delicate a need for secrecy than Dy?
“It is a personal matter requiring the utmost confidentiality and discretion,” Darcy began slowly. “A young woman’s reputation, rather her entire family’s reputation, is dependent on her swift location and rescue from a man of base character. All my information indicates that she and the man came to London a week ago and have disappeared into the meaner parts of the city.”
“A kidnapping, sir?” Tanner’s beefy face hardened.
“No.” Darcy shook his head. “The young lady went willingly, and it may yet be that she remains enamored and desires no rescue. But she must be found and brought to her senses and out of the power of this man.” Darcy took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on their host. “I desire only help in locating her. I will endeavor to do the rest. Can you help me?”
Tanner’s eyes flicked to Fletcher’s for the briefest moment and then returned to Darcy. “Yes, sir, I can help you; and I will.” An angry whistle escaped him. “A common enough story; though it still makes my blood boil, begging your pardon, sir.”
Darcy negated the apology with an upraised hand. “The man’s name is Wickham, George Wickham, and the lady’s is Lydia. I will not say her family’s name. Lydia should suffice. She is a small, young woman, only sixteen years old, of good but not noble family. Wickham holds the rank of lieutenant and is absent without leave from the —— th Militia stationed at Brighton. He has little money and few friends. He is about my height, dark hair, thin. He has a weakness for gambling.” Darcy pulled a small package from his coat pocket. “You will find a tolerable likeness of him in this.” He handed it to Tanner.
“Oh, this will be of great help!” the giant exclaimed as he unwrapped the parcel and held the miniature up to a candle. “How shall I contact you, sir? You must know, you should not come here again.”
Darcy nodded. “Leave messages with my groomsman, Harry, at the mews for Erewile House, Grosvenor Square. Harry has no notion of this affair but will faithfully deliver whatever is given him.”
“It shall be done, sir. Whether there is news or no, I will send to you morning, afternoon, and evening of what has been done and discovered.”
“Excellent!” Darcy stood up. “I could ask no more!” He looked around the room again, curious about this man who probably knew more about the real Dy Brougham than he did. His gaze came to rest on the piles of papers on the table, unusual to be sure. “That is a prodigious amount of paperwork. I had no idea a sexton…” He paused, his curiosity overcoming his caution. “If that is what you truly are.”
Tanner’s smile was guarded. “Oh, I am the sexton, sir, when there is time. But people don’t bother the sexton in a place like this, especially one who speaks little English.”
“How did you come to be here, Tyke?” Fletcher joined them. “My father wrote when you left eight years ago, and he had not heard from you since.”
Tanner sighed. “Lem, it was the worst decision I ever made, and yet the best, given the way it ended. I left your father’s company and followed this troupe down here to London, believing the leader’s big talk of fame and fortune. We never got into even one respectable theater. Soon it was steal or starve; and when I said I would rather starve, they let me. Then, it was sick with the pneumonia. No place to go; sick as a dog and weak as a kitten.” Tanner’s eyes misted. “The minister here found me on the street and took me in. Nursed us with his own hands, he did, and was rewarded with a fatal case of it himself.” Tanner wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Pardon me, sir,” he said to Darcy, “Peter Annesley…” At the name, Fletcher started; but at Darcy’s look, he remained silent. “Peter Annesley was a prince among men. He introduced me to Mr. Dyfed, and between them…Well, a lot has changed for me. Mr. Darcy…” Tanner turned back to him. “Will you stay here while I find you a cab? The street is likely clear, as much as any street in this part of London is clear; but you saw how quickly a man of your appearance can attract attention.”
“I required the cab we arrived in to return for us. It should be along soon,” Darcy stated with more conviction than he felt.
Tanner looked at him dubiously. “Well, that may be, sir; but I’ll have a step round and make sure before you venture out. If you please, sir,” he added as a sop to what they both knew was Darcy’s privilege to do as he desired.
Darcy nodded. “If you will, but we shall accompany you as far as the door. Fletcher,” he called over his shoulder.
“Here, sir.” Fletcher put down his cup of tea directly, smoothed out the creases in his coat, and presented himself to his master. Tanner unlocked the heavy portal, swinging it wide on well-oiled hinges, and they walked down to the entrance door in silence.
“If you would wait here a moment, sir.” Tanner’s request rumbled down more like a command. He was out and closing the street door behind him before Darcy could make any reply. Snorting at the giant’s high-handedness, he turned to Fletcher, whose eyes shifted away immediately he caught them. Ah, yes…Fletcher. Darcy warmed to this new mystery and turned his full attention upon his manservant.
“Fletcher, you will oblige me by explaining exactly how you know this man.” He crossed his arms and settled back on one heel, his brows raised. “I am all anticipation, I assure you.”
“Ah…well, sir,” the valet began but then stopped. “You see, Mr. Darcy…”
“No, I do not; that is why you are going to tell me…in plain, truthful English! I received the distinct impression that Tanner was part of an acting troupe both before and after he left your family.” Darcy fixed his valet with a piercing regard.
With a great sigh, Fletcher nodded his head even as his shoulders slumped. “Yes, sir. It’s the truth, sir. My parents are — rather, they were — actors.”
“Shakespearean actors, I assume.” Darcy waited for the assent he knew would be forthcoming. How much this explained! No wonder Fletcher quoted the Bard like a son; he had been raised on him!
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, although they were never what one might call ‘famous.’ The troupe played only small to middle-sized towns, never London, nor even York or Birmingham. But they did know Shakespeare, sir, all the comedies and a number of the histories. They are retired now.” Fletcher put an emphasis on the “now.” “They were respectable in their own way, sir. Never cheated a customer nor stole.” He drew himself up painfully stiff. “But I quite understand if my services are no longer required.”
“Do not speak such rubbish, Fletcher.” Darcy snorted. “I am sure your background can have no influence upon your present position. It might explain your flamboyant attitude with respect to neckcloths and your ability to quote the Bard so handily, but it is no reason for me to discharge you. And,” he ended, “I have no doubt that your parents are exceptional people.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Fletcher’s shoulders relaxed.
The doorknob turned, and Tanner slipped his impressive frame around the door and back in. “Your cab is waiting, sir. You need to leave straightway, before it attracts attention.”