Page 47 of The Cheapside Runners
Behind the counter, they were encouraged to see a rather gruff looking man of about thirty who matched the description of the man they were looking for but equally dismayed to find a woman standing too close to be an employee. She was young, pretty, and she reminded Darcy very much of Jane Bennet.
The men had not thought the plan through very well. Darcy had hoped to approach the husband as seemed right and proper,and either avoid the wife, or at least allow her husband to soften the blow. The die was cast though, so after a glance at the colonel, he decided to just charge in, mostly because subtlety was not really his strong suit.
“Pardon me. We seek Mr Turner.”
“You have found him. State your business,” the man replied with a slightly gravelly voice.
“The business is of a rather personal nature. We would be happy to return at a convenient time,” Darcy replied, mentally kicking himself for not arranging the meeting in advance.
“Good a time as any. I’ve a small office just back here,” he said pointing to a door behind the counter.
The man stood from a stool, while the pretty woman handed him a crutch that had been unobtrusively leaning against the wall, and casually said, “My wife, Mrs Turner. She will accompany us, as she is involved in all my personal business.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam had hoped to get off easy on the discussion through her absence, but with a shrug, both decided it was probably for the best anyway. Best to just rip the plaster off and get on with things.
As they entered the rather small office, Turner sat on another stool while Mrs Turner stood beside him. “Noticed you gents did not introduce yourselves. Whatever unpleasantness you have, let us get it over with.”
Darcy said, “I will beg your indulgence for just a couple of minutes. You will most likely wish to throw us out of your café on our ears as is obviously your right when we introduce ourselves, but I will humbly beg you to hear us out.”
Fitzwilliam added, “We give our word it will be to your benefit.”
Mr Turner turned his eye on Fitzwilliam and stared him down for a few seconds. “I was Sergeant Turner until I got invalided out a few years back. I can smell an officer from tenpaces. As comrades in arms, I will give you five minutes.”
“We cannot ask for more,” Fitzwilliam said, then looked to Darcy, since this was his project, after all.
Darcy took a fortifying breath.
“I am Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, and this is my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. We represent thehonourableside of the Fitzwilliam family.”
Mrs Turner shrank back slightly while Mr Turner stood up abruptly enough that they could tell he hurt his leg in the process, though he tried his best not to show it.
The colonel said, “Steady on, Sergeant. We mean you no harm and wish only to help.”
“I want no help from the likes of you!”
“That is your right,” Darcy said placatingly. “If you ask us to leave, you have our word we will do so, and the subject will be closed forever. I do ask five minutes of your time, if you would oblige.”
Mrs Turner spoke soothingly to her husband, indicating she was either more complacent or more practical.
“The Fitzwilliams have already done all the harm they are likely to do, Stanley. Let us not tar the whole family with the same brush.”
The colonel chuckled to try to reduce the tension. “You could tar most of the men in the family without being wrong, Mrs Turner. I do appreciate you hearing us out.” He left unsaid that he was just assuming she would calm her husband down.
Mrs Stanley helped her husband back to the stool, and while his face could still carve granite, he nodded to Darcy to continue.
“I recently learnt about my cousin’s… ah… proclivities. I have no excuse for why I failed to do so years earlier. I rarely speak to him, but I also did not go looking, much to my shame.”
“You cannotpossiblybe shocked by his behaviour,” Mr Turner snapped.
“I am not shocked, just saddened. I, of course, know that much of thetonacts very much as he does. I do not, as a rule, associate with such men. I knew my cousin was a gambler and that he dallied with certain classes of women who are willing or even eager for such attentions, but I had no idea of his actions with innocents.”
“Weak excuse, if you ask me.”
Fitzwilliam said, “Come Sergeant, we are men of the world. That leg is a fighting injury if I have ever seen one. You know how things work, so you cannot have been flabbergasted yourself.”
Turner shrugged to concede the point. Everyone knew he had probably had his share of dalliances in his time in the army, and it may not be the best time to start throwing stones, given that they all lived in glass houses.
Mrs Turner seemed to have a practical bent, so she turned the discussion back to the topic at hand. Darcy had no idea if she was being practical, or if she was only tired of watching a bunch of roosters crow at each other.
