----------------------------------------
On a serene spring afternoon, the sun cast a gentle glow over Langham Church as a stout middle-aged man, accompanied by a young woman of captivating beauty, stationed themselves in its front. As the clock chimed two, a young man emerged from a side street, stumbling upon the couple unawares. His discomfort was palpable, mirrored in the young lady’s deep blush and concealed delight. Ignoring the awkwardness, the elder man extended his hand to the young man and exclaimed:
“Mr. Darcy, is it truly you? We feared we had lost you! What led to your sudden departure? We’ve awaited your explanation eagerly. My daughter has been quite anxious, haven’t you, Evaline?”
Evaline remained silent, her eyes cast downward.
“I had intended to explain my abrupt leave today,” Anthony replied. “I trust you received my letter, explaining the unavoidable circumstances.”
“Indeed, and the snuffbox as well,” Mr. Thorneycroft interjected. “But you omitted to provide an address for acknowledgment.”
“I couldn’t give one at the time,” Anthony explained.
“I’m pleased to see your arm has recovered,” Mr. Thorneycroft observed. “But you appear paler. What do you think, Evaline?”
“Mr. Darcy seems troubled, as if burdened by mental distress rather than physical ailment,” Evaline timidly remarked.
“I am,” Anthony admitted, his gaze locking with Evaline’s. “A grave incident has befallen me. But answer me, has the mysterious figure in the black cloak troubled you again?”
“What figure?” Mr. Thorneycroft inquired, surprised.
“Forget it, father,” Evaline interjected. “I saw him last night. I was alone in the back room, wondering about your whereabouts, when a tap sounded on the partly open window. I saw the tall stranger in the dim light, his eyes gleaming fiercely like a predator’s. He spoke of you, Anthony, and directed me to Langham Place tomorrow at two. He vanished before I could respond.”
“You never mentioned this!” Mr. Thorneycroft exclaimed. “You brought me out hoping to find Mr. Darcy but kept this certainty hidden. Did you send this stranger to her?” he asked Anthony.
“No, I didn’t,” Anthony replied somberly.
“Interesting,” Mr. Thorneycroft mused. “In any case, join us for dinner, won’t you?”
Anthony hesitated, but a pleading look from Evaline changed his mind. “I’ll accept,” he said, offering his arm to her as they walked towards Oxford Street, Mr. Thorneycroft following a few steps behind.
As they walked along the Quadrant, the shadows seemed to deepen around them, casting an eerie veil over the bustling street. Evaline’s voice carried a tone of gratitude and sorrow as she spoke to Anthony.
“This kindness means so much to me, Mr. Darcy,” Evaline said. “I’ve been in such torment!”
“I regret causing you distress,” Anthony replied, his voice tinged with remorse. “I wished you could forget me.”
“I never could,” she protested, her words ringing with sincerity.
A tremor ran through Anthony’s body, noticeable to Evaline. “What’s troubling you?” she asked, her concern growing.
“I would have stayed away if I could,” Anthony admitted. “But fate, a cruel master, has brought us together again.”
“I’m relieved,” Evaline said, her relief genuine. “Since our last talk, I’ve pondered your words. I believe you’re confused from your recent accident.”
“Do not be fooled,” Anthony warned urgently. “I’m under a dark influence. Remember the figure at your window?”
“What about him?” Evaline’s voice quivered with fear.
“He controls my fate,” Anthony revealed.
“How does he involve me?” Evaline’s voice trembled.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“He has plans,” Anthony replied, his voice shaking.
“You’re scaring me,” Evaline confessed. “Please explain.”
Before Anthony could respond, Mr. Thorneycroft intervened, diverting their conversation.
As they neared the Quadrant, a man with an odd collection of dogs caught Evaline’s eye. It was Mr. Ginger.
“What a lovely dog!” Evaline exclaimed, drawn to a Charles the Second spaniel.
“Allow me to give it to you?” Anthony offered.
“It would mean a lot, but I can’t accept it,” Evaline replied, blushing.
The dog-fancier, noticing Evaline’s interest, urged her. “Have a look, miss. She’s gentle as a Morehouse.”
Evaline couldn’t resist patting the spaniel’s head. “Fairy seems fond of you,” Ginger remarked. “I’d sell her at a bargain, not taking advantage of you.”
“What’s your bargain?” Evaline asked, intrigued.
“I’d love to gift her, but I must earn,” Ginger explained. “I’ll offer her at a fair price, a trifle above what I paid.”
“Hope you didn’t pay too much,” Evaline quipped, her smile returning.
In the midst of the bustling street, Ginger’s voice carried a persuasive tone, mingled with hints of pride in his honesty.
“I didn’t pay half her worth—not half,” Ginger confessed. “And if you’re not pleased with her in a month, I’ll buy her back from you. You’ll always find me here—always. Mr. Ginger—that’s my name, miss. The only honest man in the dog-fancying line. Just ask Mr. Bishop, the renowned gunmaker of Bond Street, about me—the Bishop of Bond Street as the elites call him—and he’ll vouch for me.”
“But you haven’t answered the lady’s question,” Anthony interjected. “What’s the price for the dog?”
“Do you want it for yourself or her?” Ginger inquired, eyes flickering with calculation.
“What does it matter?” Anthony snapped, his patience fraying.
“It matters a great deal, sir,” Ginger explained calmly. “For you, she’s twenty-five guineas. For the young lady, twenty.”
“What if I purchase her for the young lady?” Anthony questioned sharply.
“In that case, sir, you’ll have her at the lower price,” Ginger clarified.
“I hope you’re not serious about buying the dog?” Mr. Thorneycroft interjected, disapprovingly eyeing the spaniel.
“The price is exorbitant,” Thorneycroft criticized.
“It may seem so to you, sir, in your ignorance of the value of such an animal,” Ginger defended. “But I assure you, she’s worth every penny. Why, just last week, the Prussian Ambassador bought a Charles from me for eighty guineas to gift to a duchess acquaintance. And let me tell you, the dog I sold him couldn’t compare to Fairy here.”
“Rubbish!” Thorneycroft dismissed, clearly unimpressed.
“It’s no exaggeration,” Ginger insisted. “Look at those ears, miss—long as your own ringlets—and those paws. You won’t find a better deal at twenty pounds.”
“She’s indeed charming,” Evaline conceded, gently stroking the spaniel’s head.
Meanwhile, two suspicious figures lurked nearby, eyeing Anthony with hidden intent.
“It’s him,” the taller one whispered to his companion. “Anthony Darcy.”
“Looks like him,” the other agreed, peering cautiously.
“It’s him, Sandman,” the taller one affirmed. “We must signal our comrade.”
“Well, miss,” Ginger coaxed, “your sweetheart—I’m certain he’s your sweetheart—shall give me fifteen pounds, and the dog is yours. I’ll take a loss of five pounds for such a kind customer as you. Fairy deserves a caring mistress.”
Caught in his thoughts, Anthony suddenly snapped back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the young lady can have the dog for fifteen pounds,” Ginger reiterated, eyes gleaming with the promise of a sale.
“No, Anthony,” Evaline intervened swiftly. “It’s too much.”
“Far too much, Mr. Darcy,” Thorneycroft added, echoing her sentiment.
In the dimly lit street, Ginger’s muttered words carried a weight of suspicion and intrigue.
“Anthony and Darcy!” Ginger muttered under his breath. “Could this be the gentleman we’ve been searching for? Where are my two partners, I wonder? Ah, there they are,” he added, noticing a signal from behind the pillar. “They’re keeping watch, I see.”
“Give the lady the dog and take the money,” Anthony demanded sharply.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ginger interjected, “shouldn’t I escort the dog to the young lady’s home? It might encounter mishaps along the way.”
“Mishaps? Nonsense!” Mr. Thorneycroft scoffed. “The rogue only wants to track you home, learn your address, and steal the dog back. Take my advice, Mr. Darcy, and don’t proceed with the purchase.”
“The deal is done,” Ginger stated firmly, handing the dog to Evaline and pocketing the money from Anthony.
“How can I thank you for this, Anthony?” Evaline exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“By directing your affection toward this treasure,” Anthony replied in a hushed tone.
“That’s impossible,” Evaline countered.
“Let’s depart immediately,” Mr. Thorneycroft suggested. “Cab!”
As they prepared to leave, Anthony felt a presence beside him—a tall, imposing figure.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said, tipping his hat, “but are you Mr. Anthony Darcy?”
“I am,” Anthony confirmed, eyeing the man intently. “Why do you ask?”
“I need a private word with you, sir,” the man continued. “Alone.”
“Speak now or leave,” Anthony demanded. “I have no business with you.”
“You’ll want to hear me out, sir,” the man persisted, his tone cryptic. “I must speak with you—privately.”
“If you don’t leave, I’ll summon the authorities,” Anthony threatened.
“No, you won’t, sir—no, you won’t,” the man replied, shaking his head. Lowering his voice, he added, “You’ll be keen on buying my silence when you learn what secrets of yours I’ve uncovered.”
“Are you coming, Mr. Darcy?” Thorneycroft called from the coach.
“I need to speak with this man,” Anthony replied. “I’ll join you later. Farewell, Evaline.” As the coach departed, Anthony turned to the man. “Now, what is it?”
“Come this way, sir,” the man said, gesturing towards a shadowy alley. “Two of my associates wish to be present. Let’s find a quieter spot.”