And so Mr. Knightley stood some yards away, engaged in conversation with a tenant who had happened along at an opportune moment, while Darcy approached Mr. Deal. He would learn what he could through informal means before Mr. Knightley joined them, if necessary, for official questioning. Darcy wished Elizabeth were with him. He disdained idle chatter; she was much his superior in this sort of thing.
“An acquaintance of mine owns a very nice snuff box, and tells me he purchased it from you,” Darcy said. “His name is Frank Churchill. Do you recall selling it to him?”
“Indeed, yes! Mr. Churchill spent a considerable amount of time selecting it. I had two, and he liked them both so well that he could not quite make up his mind. I still have the other. Let me see—”
As Mr. Deal rummaged through his wares, Darcy noticed with surprise that the peddler had but one hand. In all the discussions pertaining to Mr. Deal, no one had ever mentioned the fact.
“Yes, here is the other snuff box,” Mr. Deal said. “I warrant you will not find a finer one outside London, and perhaps within.”
Darcy accepted the case and made a show of examining it, though his true object was examining the peddler. Mr. Deal’s countenance was open and his manner warm, yet as Darcy handled the snuff case, Deal’s gaze repeatedly darted past him to the street beyond. Darcy wondered whether he had spotted Mr. Knightley or merely canvassed the village for more potential customers.
“It is a very fine snuff case, though I prefer Mr. Churchill’s. It is a pity he discovered it first. When did you sell it to him?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“So recently? When next I see him, I shall have to commend him on his timing as well as his taste. Did he purchase anything else?”
“No, only the snuff box.”
Frank Churchill had been telling the truth about not having purchased any of the gypsy remedies. But had Edgar bought a fatal physic? Darcy did not want to appear too interested in the family’s affairs.
“My wife’s birthday rapidly approaches, and I have not yet settled upon a gift for her. I hope to find something unusual. Have you any jewelry — something out of the ordinary?”
“I have a few items. How much do you want to spend?”
“That depends upon what you have to offer.”
He began to open a small wooden box. “I have several necklaces that she might appreciate.”
“I had hoped to find a ring.”
Mr. Deal’s gaze took in the quality of Darcy’s attire beneath his open greatcoat, the gold fob chain dangling from his waistcoat pocket, his bearing. “I believe I can accommodate you. I recently acquired a gold ring. It is set with five small diamonds.”
Darcy’s hopes, briefly elevated, sank. “My wife is averse to diamonds.”
Mr. Deal’s lips curved in amusement. “A lady who would not welcome diamonds? I did not know such a creature existed.”
A twelvemonth previous, Darcy and Elizabeth had seen all they wanted of diamonds for a lifetime. “You do not know my wife.”
“Perhaps I could interest you in something else? Have a look about.”
Darcy had been hoping for just such an invitation, and seized upon it readily. Mr. Deal traveled with an eclectic inventory of tinware, trinkets, tools, and textiles. Though according to Mrs. Knightley he had been peddling in the neighborhood for a fortnight, he had no shortage of wares. “I have heard such tell of you in the neighborhood that I should have thought your stock nearly depleted, but your cart seems a veritable emporium.”
“I acquire new goods regularly. Customers offer me things in trade, or I buy them from local artisans in the villages through which I pass. I also visit London and other cities in the course of my travels.”
“Do you ever obtain goods from less conventional sources?”
Mr. Deal regarded Darcy warily. He walked around to the opposite side of his cart and adjusted several items. “If you refer to smuggling, no. The profits might be high, but so are the gallows.”
“I did not mean to suggest any such thing. My mind ran more toward gypsies.” Darcy had intended by indirections to find direction out, but paltering did not come smoothly or comfortably to him. Indeed, thus far he felt himself the deceiver in this interview, and the sensation did not sit well. He would engage in a more direct manner of questioning.
“Gypsies?” Deal picked up a copper teakettle and hung it for display. It caught a shaft of low afternoon sunlight penetrating the clouds and glowed as warmly as if it boiled on a hearth. The flash lasted but moments, however, before the clouds obscured the sun once more, shadowing the peddler’s countenance as well.
“The villagers say you sell gypsy wares.”
“From time to time, I meet gypsies in my journeys — it is inevitable that someone who travels as much as I do will cross paths with other wanderers. Gypsies are renowned tinkers and woodworkers, and so, yes, I engage in business with them when the opportunity arises.”
“I hear you sell remedies that rival anything the village apothecary can provide, and that you tout them as having been prepared by a gypsy.”
“Gypsies have traveled for centuries; their healers possess knowledge gained in the many lands their forebears passed through. I would trust a gypsy remedy above anything concocted by an English chemist.”
“Insofar as any gypsy can be trusted?”
Deal made no reply as he hung two pie tins next to the teakettle.
“When did you obtain the cures you have been selling in Highbury?” Darcy pressed.
“I met with a gypsy party not long before arriving in the village.”
“So near? Are they still about?”
“I believe they have moved on.”
“Do you know in which direction? My wife and I will be traveling, and we would not want to encounter such a group.”
“I cannot say, for the Roma are as predictable as the wind. But should you happen upon them, you have nothing to fear. It was a band I have done business with before, and they will not trouble you if you do not trouble them. Indeed, if one of them offers to tell your fortune, the meeting might bring you luck.”
Darcy had little interest in that sort of nonsense. “Are gypsy predictions more or less reliable than their remedies?”
“It depends upon the fortune-teller. There is one among that band who is both a seer and a healer, who earned my respect years ago. Indeed, I cannot say with certainty that I would be standing here now were it not for her. It was she from whom I acquired the remedies.”
“Have you any remaining?”
“A few. Do you need something in particular?”
“I should like to see what you have.”
Mr. Deal moved to the opposite side of the cart, where several wooden cases of different sizes rested in a corner. As he rearranged them to gain access to the one he wanted, Darcy marveled at the smoothness with which he handled the task, not in the least slowed or hampered by the lack of one hand. He had learned to compensate well for the missing appendage — a necessity, no doubt, for a man whose profession required constant travel and brought him into contact with individuals from all walks of life, including ruffians only too eager to take advantage of any perceived weakness.
Mr. Deal also had much to gain from such individuals, were he a man of few scruples.
“Do you ever acquire items from gypsies that they did not produce themselves?” Darcy asked.
“Whenever a person, be he English or otherwise, offers me something of interest, I accept it if I believe it worth the price.”
“With no questions?”