James took a chance by crossing the main hall of Pemberley, but his recent forays had provided no new information. He had been aware when Darcy and the others had found the maid’s body—he had known of the viscount’s returning to his mistress’s room—he had enjoyed the play the Pemberley guests performed for their own amusement—he had observed the chaos following Mrs. Wickham’s discovery of her tattered belongings and Darcy’s anger when his wife had suffered an injury.What he did not know was what had occurred when Darcy’s household had found the soldier’s body. The lieutenant’s entry into the bedchamber at the wrong moment had been a most unfortunate development.
Now, just as with Peter’s “soiled” articles, they expected James to right the mistakes of his newest partner, Gregor MacIves. He could not remove the body, but he could ascertain what Darcy intended to do next. He remained in the shadows, partially hidden by the palms and the marble busts—the door to the linen closet ajar so he could hide if necessary.
Finally, the door to the blue drawing room swung open, and the guests poured forth. James turned his back and edged toward the closet, pretending to polish a nearby framed mirror. He knew the aristocracy’s tendency to not actually see the household servants in attendance. He would be safe from close scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the usual clusters of people split to attend to their own diversions:Worth and Miss de Bourgh, the viscount and his mistress, and Darcy and his wife. But the group had added two new players.
Miss Darcy and Lady Catherine exited the drawing room on the arms of a military officer. When the trio passed him, James recognized the man immediately: He was Darcy’s cousin Edward Fitzwilliam. Three years James’s senior, the second son of the Earl of Matlock had never approved of James’s manipulations.They had disagreed often over the years, but James had never feared the colonel. He feared Darcy, however. Although the colonel possessed fighting skills, he did not possess Darcy’s quick mind. Yet, forewarned was forearmed in all matters, and James was glad to have knowledge of the officer’s presence. He wanted no surprises.
The last from the room was the prudish widow, tears streaming down her face. Instinctively, James slipped through the closet door before anyone could notice, but he left it open enough to observe the final pair.The widow leaned heavily on the arm of a nobleman. Again, James knew the familiar countenance, although he had not seen the man in nearly a decade. Sir Phillip Spurlock had served the neighborhood for some twenty years as the local magistrate. James had run aground of the man as a youth for foolish pranks on two separate occasions—three, really. With the first two, old Mr. Darcy had intervened and lessened James’s punishment, before anyone else became aware of his shenanigans. For the third, Darcy himself had taken the blame and suffered a beating from his father.
“Mr. Darcy.” The magistrate pulled the Master of Pemberley to the side, where others could not hear—but close enough for James to listen.“Please have several of your men ready to search the Pemberley bedchambers when I have finished with Mrs.Williams.”
“Yes, Sir Phillip.” Darcy paused briefly. “Besides the arsenic, for what else do we search?”
Sir Phillip lowered his voice further.“For anything of significance.”
When they had moved away, James eased the door open and headed toward the nearest secret passageway. He kept his head down as he passed one of the lower maids; luckily, no one else seemed about. He supposed Darcy had sent many on the magistrate’s errands.“Darcy took the blame for me once, a long time ago. I wonder whether he might care to do another good turn—this time, for my friend Gregor,” he murmured. He swung the door open and entered the candlelit tunnel, waiting for the obligatory click to secure his hideaway.
“Your shoes, Mrs.Williams,” Sir Phillip commanded softly.
She stopped her progress into the room.“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Your shoes, madam—remove them.”
The lady looked about, confused. “Whatever for?”
“You will be detained here—in this room. I cannot secure every exit, but without your shoes, I do not believe you will have the means of an escape.The weather has improved, but a five-mile trek to Lambton is not likely without the benefit of footwear.”
Incredulity set in. “You are serious, sir?”
“I am.” They held each other’s stares—a match of wills. Finally, Mrs. Williams stepped out of her day slippers. Sir Phillip bent to pick them up.“I will leave them with the footman outside the door. Make yourself comfortable, ma’am. I will return for you shortly.” The baronet turned on his heels to make his exit.
“The lieutenant’s body?” she said softly. “Is it with the others?”
Sir Phillip stared at the lady with renewed interest.“Not as yet. I wish to inspect the room once more before we move him.”
Mrs.Williams did not respond in turn, but gave just a slight nod of her head. She sank, exhausted, in a nearby chair and buried her head in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Sir Phillip waited to see if she would offer an explanation, but when none came, he left the room, instructing Darcy’s man to keep the door locked unless given an order to open it by Mr. Darcy, the colonel, or himself.
James checked Mrs. Darcy’s room several times through the slit to make sure no one was in the private quarters. He had done the same with Miss Darcy’s room before he had made his way through the passage and across the girl’s room. Now, he peered around the screen before moving to the portal. He would not be long, so he set the opening for his speedy return. Georgiana Darcy’s room at the end of the hall was two doors from her brother’s master suite. James opened her door enough to enter the hall, leaving the latch loosely fastened. He took a calculated risk, symbolically sending Darcy a message.The break in the weather signaled a change in the household.They must make their presence known once more and then make their escape—no more haunting Pemberley’s hidden channel. They had come here for one purpose only, and tonight would be the proof of the pudding.
James quietly opened the door to the master’s chamber. Decorated in rich tones of red and mahogany, the décor spoke of Fitzwilliam Darcy’s tastes—never ostentatious—always refined. Even James admired the breeding and the masculinity of the man. He slid into the empty room and traversed the short distance to the master bed. Pulling back the drape, he staged the scene.“A nice touch,” he muttered as he arranged a bloody towel upon which Gregor had wiped his hands and the straight razor from the lieutenant’s room in the center of Darcy’s bed.“Perfect.” He straightened the folded cloth before letting the drape fall to its proper place. As he hurried toward the end room, he realized it might be a day or two before anyone found his clues, but it would satisfy his sense of the dramatic all the same. Darcy spent every evening in his wife’s bed, so the man might not see the “masterpiece” right away, but he would find it. James had no doubts.
After slipping into the gaping opening, he turned the lever to close the wall entrance in Georgiana Darcy’s room. He sought the mattress, Sleep now, he thought as he made his way to the antechamber. “Tonight,” he grumbled. “I need some sleep before tonight.”
Darcy, Stafford, Worth, the colonel, Sir Phillip, and several of the Pemberley footmen entered Cathleen Donnel’s room.They agreed to start at one end of the hall and to work their way from room to room. Adam Lawrence groused about the impropriety, even though he agreed to the necessity of the search. “It just does not seem proper,” he told the men as they rummaged through Cathleen’s private belongings.
Sir Phillip opened the drawer holding the lady’s undergarments. “Would you care to help with this one, Stafford?” He waited until Adam stepped up beside him. “It is not proper,Your Lordship; yet, I know of no other way to prove a person’s innocence or his fault in such cases.”
“I understand, sir.” Adam held the older man’s gaze for a few elongated seconds before giving in. “What must I do?”
“Check everything.”
With a simple nod, Adam’s hands delved into the silky items. Something hard rested on the bottom of the drawer. He withdrew it from among Cathleen’s chemises and corsets.
“What have you found?” the colonel called as Adam gingerly withdrew the item.
“A book,” Adam rasped out when he saw the gold-leaf pages. “I bought this for Cathleen a couple of months ago. She saw it in a window and instantly wanted it.” Without thinking, his fingers traced the raised letters.
“A first edition?” Darcy asked.
Adam shook his head in the negative. “Simply a limited edition.” He opened it and thumbed through the pages.
“Grimm—the brothers,” Darcy peered over the viscount’s shoulder. “Fanciful stories.”
“Yes,” Adam mumbled.
Worth picked up a small tied packet from the floor. “You dropped these.” He handed the viscount a beribboned bundle.
“What have you there?” Edward Fitzwilliam asked before searching the wardrobe.
Lawrence bent the edges of the paper to take a closer look.“Letters.” He fanned the stack. “From Cathleen’s family and a few from me.” He stared at how she had included his notes along with those from her cousins and her aunt and uncle. Cathleen cared for him—she thought of him as her family. A dried flower—a red rose—he always gave her red roses—Cathleen’s favorite—rested on top. He placed the items reverently in the drawer where he had found them. Allowing Cathleen Donnel to leave him might be one of the hardest things he ever did, but it was the right thing, and Adam had no choice but to let her go—let her try to find happiness with someone who could love her the way she deserved to be loved.
“There is nothing unusual to find among Miss Donnel’s things,” the baronet declared.
Worth added quickly, “As we all expected.”
“Who is next?” Sir Phillip asked.
“The next occupied room is that of Mrs. Williams.” Darcy turned to lead the way.
Sir Phillip caught Darcy’s arm to stay him. “Let us leave the good lady’s room for one of the last ones. If what I suspect is there, I do not want to neglect the other rooms, and I fear the solution to one part of the mystery lies within Mr.Williams’s room.”
“As you wish, Sir Phillip. The private quarters, then?” Darcy waited for a moment for the man’s agreement. They walked past Mrs. Williams’s room and turned to the left. “This one is Lady Catherine’s suite.” He held the door open for the others.This time, the duty of inspecting Her Ladyship’s private items fell to Darcy.“It is like touching the Holy Grail,” he grumbled.
Lord Stafford chuckled.“Some pieces are probably relics in their own right.” He good-naturedly patted Darcy on the back as the master of Pemberley lifted an oversized corset between his fingertips.
“I found a small portion of a chalky mixture in this jar,”Worth extended the container toward Sir Phillip.
Darcy suddenly joined the others, who peered into the suspicious ingredients. He touched his finger to the powder, taking a smudge of it on the tip, and then he touched the dry mixture to his tongue’s surface. “Bitter,” he remarked, grimacing as his tongue spread the taste throughout his mouth. He moved to fill a glass with water to wash the acerbic grittiness away.“How can women subject themselves to such stringent measures?”
“Her Ladyship admitted to partaking of the arsenic-laced mixture upon occasion,”Worth recalled from their previous meeting.
“She did,” Stafford confirmed.
Sir Phillip resealed the jar.“Let us keep this as possible evidence.”
In Anne’s room, they found several letters from Harwood, those supposedly sent to Anne’s maid as part of the lieutenant’s ruse. Worth read one before the others realized the nature of the items. His expletives alerted Sir Phillip to the intimacy Harwood shared.
“Hopefully, Miss de Bourgh will not mind my commandeering these,” Sir Phillip remarked as he placed the stack in the drawstring bag he carried.
Darcy glanced over his shoulder at an agitated Nigel Worth, who slammed the desk drawer closed. “I believe my cousin, as well as Mr. Worth, would happily agree to never seeing them again.”
Sir Phillip smiled.“I will see what I can do.” He gestured to the door. “Who is next?”
“My sister, of course. And Mrs. Darcy’s and mine.”
“I believe we can dispense with those rooms,” Stafford remarked as they walked toward the open door.
“No…I insist,” Darcy called from behind them as they exited the room. “No one should be above reproach.”
In Georgiana’s room, Darcy again did the honors of examining the more personal items. Not really expecting to find anything of import in the girl’s room, they spent most of their time reenacting the “floating candle” of which both Miss Darcy and her brother had told the others.
“Here are some letters from you, Colonel.” Worth teasingly thrust several letters into the officer’s open hand. “It seems Miss Darcy prefers your correspondence to those of her other friends.”
“My sister leads a quiet life,” Darcy remarked.“She is a very private person; I cannot imagine Georgiana having a slew of friends to whom to write.”
“Neither can I.” Edward tossed the stack back onto the desk in an act of nonchalance, but a moment of tenderness tugged at his heart.
Finally, they entered the master suite, examining Elizabeth’s quarters first before moving through the adjoining dressing rooms to Darcy’s sitting room and bedchamber.
Edward leaned in close, where the others could not hear.“When was the last time you slept in your father’s old room?” he inquired.
Darcy could feel color rushing to his face. “Of late, I seem to prefer my mother’s previous room,” he muttered.
Edward grinned largely.“You devil! You have finally found happiness. I envy you, Darcy.”
Sir Phillip casually circled Darcy’s bedchamber while Stafford and Worth examined the items on his desk and table.“I see nothing of any remark.” Adam Lawrence thumbed through a stack of bills and some personal correspondence.
“Neither do I,” Worth noted as he rummaged through Darcy’s closet. “Other than several pairs of immaculately shined boots, there is nothing of note.” All the gentlemen except Darcy snorted and chuckled.
Then the four entered the bedchamber and came up short—Edward Fitzwilliam leading the way. All eyes rested on a frowning baronet. “What is it, Sir Phillip?” the colonel asked with an air of authority.
The baronet remarked with a raised eyebrow, “You might wish to see this.”
Lawrence, the colonel, Worth, and Darcy moved en masse to peer over and around the magistrate. They caught the burgundy velvet drape on either side of the posts and pulled the curtains wide to study what Sir Phillip now scrutinized.
“It appears we have found the weapon used to murder Harwood,” the colonel stated. No one moved; they simply stared in disbelief at the bloody towel and straight razor.
“How in the hell did that get in here?” Worth growled. “I am very much—very tired of these games.”
“Someone has been in my room,” Darcy exhaled the words. “Someone is that close to my family…to my wife…to my unborn child…to my sister.” His anger grew by the moment. “I want to find this man. Now!”
Adam Lawrence reached for the bloody evidence.“The man sends you a message, Darcy. He wants you to know he is still here, and he can reach you or reach those you love anytime he so chooses. If you do not stop your intruder soon, Darcy, someone you cherish will die.”The viscount wrapped the blade in the towel and handed it to Sir Phillip.
A cold shiver radiated down Darcy’s spine. “How do I stop him?” His eyes remained fixed on the spot, as if the blood stained the bed linens.
“Have there been any other warnings?” Sir Phillip asked as he carefully placed the items into the drawstring bag.
“None…nothing.” Darcy still had not moved, but his mind now began to process the new information.
Sir Phillip looked about, a bit embarrassed. “I am chagrined to ask this, Mr. Darcy, but when did you last lie in this bed?”
Darcy laughed self-consciously. He did not mind admitting his preference for Elizabeth’s bed to his cousin. After all, he and Edward had few secrets between them. It was a different story to disclose those same facts to the baronet, Stafford, and Worth. But disguise of every sort was his abhorrence. “The night my sister saw the floating light, Mrs. Darcy took Georgiana into her own bed. When my sister finally fell asleep, my wife and I retired to this bed; but I assure you, Sir Phillip, my staff cleans the room daily, whether I choose to sleep in this bed or not.” He smiled slightly. “Now you all know that I am not a London nob who prefers someone other than his wife for company.”
“You do not have to make excuses, Darcy, for actually loving the woman you married,” Worth declared. “Were we all so lucky, society would be for the better.”
Darcy heard his own words echo in his head. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. He realized that men of a certain rank, captivated by youth and beauty and that appearance of good humor, which youth and beauty generally give, might marry women whose weak understanding and illiberal minds, very early in the marriage, put an end to all real affection. Respect, esteem, and confidence would vanish forever, and all the man’s views of domestic happiness would be overthrown.The gentleman would seek comfort for his disappointment, which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often consoles the unfortunate for his folly or his vice. Luckily for Darcy, he had discovered Elizabeth Bennet—her fine eyes—the liveliness of her mind—her handsome face—the depth of her passion and her loyalty—they had all captured his heart—his body and soul—and he had never looked back or questioned his decision to choose the lady as his own. He loved how she had risked everything to challenge his arrogance—how she did not accept his words unless she found true merit within them—and how Elizabeth had taken his household within her grasp and given it a great shake.“I am fortunate to have attained Mrs. Darcy’s affection.”
“Amen!” Edward cried. “I second Mr.Worth’s avowal.”
“May we return to our search?” Sir Phillip directed the conversation away from the Darcys’ close association.
Darcy resolutely distracted himself from his need to find his wife and take her into his embrace—to tell her of his love and to keep her from harm. “Indeed, Sir Phillip.” He glanced about the room. “Have we finished in here?”
The magistrate nodded, and the others preceded them through the chamber door. Darcy took a place by the baronet.“I appreciate your confidence in me, sir,” he whispered. “You did not consider me guilty of the attack on the lieutenant.”
“There are human contrivances in place at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy; yet, I do not consider you a man foolish enough to leave an instrument of murder haphazardly lying about and then to ask the local magistrate into your room, where he would find it.” Darcy stared at the man, but Sir Phillip did not even turn his head.
“This one is mine.”Adam Lawrence stepped to the side to allow the others to enter before him. “Not much in here. Neither Miss Donnel nor I planned to be away more than a week.The wardrobe is quite empty compared with those of the Darcys. Other than the books, which I have carried upstairs to while away some of the hours at Pemberley, I believe you will find nothing of report.”
Again, the magistrate circled the room, lightly touching the viscount’s clothes brush, his toiletries, and an empty coffee cup. “Everything seems as it should be.”
Edward picked up one of the books. “What piques your interest, Stafford?”The colonel turned the book over to look at the title. “Apotropaics? Really, Lawrence, does that not seem a bit eccentric?”
“Darcy prefers the classics and those war journals. Finding ways to ward off demons seemed only appropriate at Pemberley.” The viscount took the book from the colonel’s outstretched hand. “I have always had an odd sense of humor.”
Worth moved to the door.“We should probably view the rooms formerly occupied by Miss de Bourgh and her companion.”
“Lead on,Worth.” Sir Phillip gestured toward the connecting hall.
Darcy informed the baronet that he had given orders that no one was to enter or touch the room since the evening they had moved his cousin’s belongings to her new quarters. They searched the adjoining rooms thoroughly, looking for anything unusual.
“Mrs. Jenkinson owned no skin preparations that could have led to her death,” Sir Phillip observed, returning the woman’s toiletries to the dresser.
“Meaning that the lady’s death did not come from a buildup of arsenic in her body,” the colonel observed.
“Precisely,” the baronet concurred. “Nor from a mistaken overage of her own making.”
Worth handed the magistrate a packet of letters, smudged and crinkled with reading and rereading. “These appear to be from the lady’s husband. They have been franked in different parts of the world. The late Mr. Jenkinson was a diplomat of sorts. They were probably all she had left of the man.”
Sir Phillip accepted the papers and placed them in his bag. “I am sure they will lead to nothing, but I will read the letters just the same. If I can locate the woman’s family, I will see they are sent on to Mrs. Jenkinson’s relatives.”
Worth felt the sadness of being in the room of a woman whom he sorely missed. “My chamber is two doors along the hallway. Shall we see what I have hidden away?” Worth laughed, trying to make light of what they did.
“It seems only prudent,” Sir Phillip said as he led the way from Mrs. Jenkinson’s former room. “What secrets do you keep, Nigel?” the magistrate remarked as they entered Worth’s room.
“As a man who practices law, I have many, as you well know, Sir Phillip.” Worth lit several candles, as he had earlier shut the heavy drapes to keep in the room’s heat.Worth’s room lacked the pristine appearance of Darcy’s or Stafford’s. Legal papers lay strewn upon the desk; the man evidently continued to work on his cases while at Pemberley. Several shirts and waistcoats decorated the backs of two chairs.Worth chuckled when he saw their faces. “I travel with no man of service. I must tend to my own things, and bachelors are renowned for a lack of housekeeping.”
“Yet, you are a rich man,Worth,” Darcy added quickly.“You can afford someone to tend to your dress.”
“I have never needed to impress others with the cut of my coat. Most people who seek me out are more concerned with my ability to manipulate the law for their benefit than how fashionably dressed I am.” However, their censure for his messy ways caused him to pick up some of the items scattered about the room—folding them or placing them on hangers. “I suppose I shall need to change my ways,” he said sheepishly as he placed a shirt in the wardrobe, “especially if I plan to call on Miss de Bourgh. I am aware of Her Ladyship’s need for all things of which society demands.”
“Do not allow my vexatious aunt to change your ways to match hers,” Colonel Fitzwilliam warned. “Continue to cultivate your own style.” Worth listened carefully to the gentleman’s unspoken words and then nodded his understanding. “If my cousin chooses you, Worth,” the colonel continued, “the management of Anne’s fortune and the running of Rosings Park falls under your domain. Her Ladyship will need to curry favor with you for what you will allow her as the Dowager Lady de Bourgh. Treat Lady Catherine with kindness, but also with firmness. It will increase your domestic felicity to not give Her Ladyship the upper hand.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
“Worth,” Lord Stafford called from behind the desk, “what are these?”
The solicitor looked a bit embarrassed, but he answered matter-of-factly. “I was making some notes for an associate in Newcastle on a case he plans to bring before the court in that jurisdiction.”
“But these notes are regarding what you know of George Wickham.” A touch of skepticism rang through his tone.
Worth confirmed, “They are, sir.”
Darcy quietly motioned for his men to withdraw while they discussed the matter.
When the last man had closed the chamber door, the viscount asked, “Does Mrs.Wickham know?”
Before Worth could answer, Darcy took up the man’s defense. “Mr. Worth prosecuted Mr. Wickham several years ago for gambling debts. Worth’s former associate, Mr. O’Malley, remembered Worth’s connection with Mr. Wickham. Mr. O’Malley sought a consultation with Mr. Worth. Purely by coincidence, in Nottingham, Mr. Wickham left his wife to board the same public conveyance as rode Mr.Worth.”
“Has Wickham accumulated more debt?” Edward hissed. He was aware of how often Darcy had bailed out the hapless punter.
Worth rejoined the tale. “Of some quantity, if my colleague is to be believed.”
Edward’s protest came immediately,“Darcy, you cannot think—
Uncomfortable with the rest of the men knowing the extent of his past involvement with Wickham, Darcy interrupted his cousin’s admonishment. “Mr. Wickham has placed his financial security beyond those from his family who might come to his aid.” Quietly, he added, “In addition to his pecuniary problems, it appears that the gentleman sometimes lifts a hand to his wife—especially when Mrs. Wickham displays her more boisterous nature, which we all know she possesses.” The other men understood the depth of Darcy’s hatred for his former school chum, a man for whom Darcy’s own father had tried to provide a living but who led a life of idleness and dissipation. “If Mr. O’Malley chooses to pursue this case, I will make no move to save Mrs.Wickham’s husband, despite the shame it may reflect upon Mrs. Darcy or this estate.”
“Is there anything else, Sir Phillip? Or may we inspect another room?”Worth inquired.
“Indeed,” the gentleman replied. “Let us press on.”
Worth exited, pausing briefly in the hallway to wait for the others. “Who is next? Mrs.Williams or Mrs.Wickham?”
They all waited for Sir Phillip’s direction. “The admiral’s widow,” he commanded. The baronet turned toward the room at the top of the stairs. “I do not need to remind each of you of the importance of documenting what we find in this room.” Gravely, he turned the handle to open the door.
They spread out across the room, each of them taking the responsibility of thoroughly searching a portion of the space. No one spoke, each man intent on performing his duties.
Edward opened each of the jars on the dresser. “The lady has nearly ten jars of cosmetics; yet, Mrs. Williams wore only a bit of rogue when I saw her today. I wonder whether today was an aberration.” He showed them a small jar containing a blackened powder. “And what in God’s name is this?”
“Belladonna. For the eyes,” Stafford informed him. “The latest thing on the Continent. Gives the lady’s lids a smoky quality in the dim lighting of a soiree or a dinner party.”
“We should have known you would be an expert on a lady’s beauty regime,” Darcy smirked.
Adam made a courtly bow.“It is my lot in life—what I do best. Just ask my father, the earl. He will gladly extol my expertise in the area.”
Edward examined the table. “I see nothing such as what we found in my aunt’s quarters.”
“Maybe Mrs.Williams did not use the poison in the same way,” Sir Phillip remarked.
“I assume you mean that the lady did not consume the product; she used ointments and creams, probably because her face and skin have weathered from traveling with the admiral. But even if she did have the item, she could have disposed of the powder after Mrs. Jenkinson’s passing,” Stafford observed.
“I am sorry I did not think to search the bedrooms before now,” Darcy said, offering an apology to the entire room.
“It is of no consequence, Mr. Darcy.Your search would not have solved your mystery.” Sir Phillip gave his own form of absolution. “The lady is not your phantom, although I strongly suspect her of causing your cousin’s companion to meet an untimely death.”
Worth joined Darcy and the baronet. “There is nothing to directly connect the widow to Harwood,” he whispered. “How will we prove her guilt?”
“I am not ready to abandon our search,” the magistrate asserted. “There is something here; I feel it in my bones. Let us look closer. Does the lady have items in the bed chest? Take out the drawers of the desk. Look behind them.The same with the dressing table.”
The five men plus Darcy’s two footmen started to take things apart. Moving furniture and looking behind and under the room’s fixtures, they studied the minutest corners with a renewed interest.
“Nothing in the chest,” Worth announced as he let the lid to the storage at the foot of Mrs.Williams’s bed slam shut.
“I found nothing beneath the bed either, sir.” Jatson St. Denis scooted out from under the bed.
Darcy mused aloud, “If not under the bed, maybe in the bed. Possibly the lady literally slept with her secrets.”
Instantly, Darcy and Sir Phillip attacked the bed simultaneously, pulling back the coverings and flipping over the pillows. Reaching for the bottom brocade pillow, Darcy’s fingers brushed against something hard. “I have something.” He pulled the drawstring pouch from the folds of the pillow’s silken covering. “What have we here?” He loosened the golden string and dumped the contents of the bag upon the bed.
The other men now circled about.Worth expelled a low whistle when the gold coins tumbled from the black velvet bag. “Solid gold.”Worth turned one of the coins over in the palm of his hand. “A small fortune.”
“Where would a woman of Mrs.Williams’s station get so many gold coins?” Edward questioned as he ran his fingers through them and let them plunge to the mattress.
“A man’s ring,” Darcy said as he cupped a jeweled band in his outstretched hand.
Sir Phillip picked up the velvet bag and turned it inside out. A folded piece of paper drifted to the floor. Carefully, the magistrate retrieved it.“Let us see what the lady conceals.” Slowly, he unfolded the item, smoothing the edges as he spread it upon the bed. The men all craned their necks to understand the marriage document. Sir Phillip read the words aloud,“Robert Lewis Harwood to Evangeline Ruth Whitmore.”
“Evangeline? I thought Mrs.Williams’s Christian name was Evelyn,” Worth thought aloud.
“Well, apparently if her name was Whitmore and not Williams, the lady might purposely call herself Evelyn instead of Evangeline,” Stafford summarized.
“You are both missing the most obvious connection.” Edward took the marriage certificate from where it lay on the bed. “Angel Harwood, as the lieutenant identified his wife, is really Evangeline Whitmore. The lieutenant called the lady Angel, short for Evangeline.”
“If what we suspect is true,” Sir Phillip started to place the items back in the bag, “the lady is an angel—an angel of death.”