“We were camped nearby, and they decided to move on. When they broke camp, I made my escape. I do not know where they have gone, and I do not care. I am only grateful to finally be free of them.”
“Are you no longer anxious for the safety of your sister?”
“She lives in Northumberland, far enough away that I hope they will not return for her.”
And far enough away — the farthest north one could travel and still remain on English soil — that verifying Miss Jones’s story would prove difficult and time-consuming.
“That is a long journey,” Elizabeth said. “When did they abduct you?”
“Months ago. In spring.”
“You were bringing mittens to the poor in spring?”
“It is cold in Northumberland.” She jerked her chin toward Hiram Deal. “You, peddler — have you traveled there?”
Mr. Deal regarded Miss Jones steadily. “Aye,” he said. “The cold there can last well into spring.”
“If you have been missing since spring, your parents must be sick with worry,” said Mr. Elton.
Miss Jones turned to the clergyman with a piteous expression. “I am an orphan — my parents died just before the gypsies stole me. I am alone in the world.”
“Not entirely alone,” said Mr. Elton.
“You are too kind, sir.”
Mr. Elton regarded her with a look of perplexity. “Your sister—”
“Oh, yes — my sister.” Her eyes scanned the crowd until her gaze fell upon a girl of five or six, to whom she offered a wobbly smile. “The child I spoke of is in fact the daughter of a family who took me in when my parents died. She is like a sister to me, but not a blood relation.”
The mother of the little girl Miss Jones had singled out was a plump middle-aged woman dressed in half-mourning. Her hands were work-roughened and strong, her face weathered but gentle. She stepped forward and put an arm around Miss Jones’s shoulders. “Poor lonely creature! Hardly a friend in the world.”
Miss Jones sagged against the woman. “Indeed, I have come to feel so.” She wiped her eyes.
Elizabeth had seen no tears. Otherwise, it was a performance worthy of the Theatre Royal.
“What about the cousins you mentioned the other night?” Elizabeth asked. “The ones named Jones who live on a nearby farm?”
Miss Jones dropped her gaze. “I have no cousins. I–I invented them so that you would believe I had others to depend upon.” She looked up — not at Elizabeth, but at Mr. Elton and Mrs. Todd. “I did not want to impose upon such a fine lady and gentleman, or create in them a sense of obligation to help me.”
“Well, you have friends now,” the woman declared. “And you can count Mrs. Todd and her daughter Alice among them.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Todd.” Miss Jones — Loretta — whatever her name might be — knelt and threw her arms around the child. “Alice reminds me of my sweet foster-sister.” She looked up at Mrs. Todd. “And you, of my own dear mother.”
Alice, bewildered by the sudden affection from a stranger, submitted to the embrace but soon wiggled out of it to cling to her mother’s side. Loretta straightened and gazed at the assembly. “With such friends as I have found here already, I feel safe for the first time since being torn from my home. At last, I am free of my captors.”
Mr. Elton stood a little straighter and puffed his chest. “We will see them brought to justice.”
“Oh! Do not pursue them, I beg you! I do not want them to know where I am. They might steal me again — or worse.”
“But surely you wish them to be arrested for what they have done?”
“I would rather they go unpunished than myself live in fear of retribution for bringing them to the law.”
“Their continued freedom threatens the safety of others,” Elizabeth said. “They might steal another young lady. You must at least report their presence in the area to the authorities.”
“Why, I–I was about to do just that. I was at the Crown to enquire whom I ought to inform and where he might be found. But when I went inside, the smell of food — since fleeing, I have been in hiding, and have not eaten in days — the scent of cooking weakened me, so I came out before I fainted away.”
If Mrs. Todd’s sympathies had not been fully engaged before, they were now. “Poor creature! Come with me to my house, and I will cook you a proper meal.”
“That will take too long — the girl is famished.” Mr. Elton gestured toward the inn. “Let us get her something to eat without delay.”
“Oh, but I haven’t any money—”
“Do not concern yourself about that for now.”
The minister led Miss Jones back to the Crown. Mrs. Todd, hovering maternally, followed with her daughter, as did a few others. Hiram Deal looked as if he might join the party, but then glanced at his unattended cart and started towards it instead.
“Thank you for stopping Miss Jones,” Elizabeth called to him.
He turned and shrugged. “I cannot disregard a lady in distress.”
Elizabeth had thought the peddler a better judge of human character than to have fallen for Loretta’s story. Her disappointment must have shown in her face.
“I referred to you,” he clarified.
She nodded towards the inn. Loretta and her entourage had disappeared inside. “What do you think of her?”
“Miss Jones?” He stared at the inn for a moment, as if he could see its occupants through the building’s façade. Finally, he shook his head and looked at Elizabeth. “I confess, I do not know what to make of her. I am glad, however, that she has left the gypsies, and I hope she finds her way home.” Mr. Deal returned to his cart.
Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Knightley. “I do not believe one word of that woman’s account.”
“Mr. Knightley will draw the truth from her, when he comes.”
“In the meantime, I do not want to let the girl out of my sight. She has already proved herself skilled at disappearing.”
They went into the Crown. It was a large inn, with assembly rooms as well as sleeping accommodations and a common dining area. Spots of dirt on the wallpaper and scratches in the heavy old wooden tables of the common area suggested that the room had long been in service and saw considerable use, and Elizabeth imagined it became quite busy when mail coaches and post-chaises stopped in the village. It was not a bad inn, but she was nevertheless glad the Knightleys had offered their hospitality and spared her and Darcy from lodging in such a bustling environment.
Only half full, the common room was not bustling at the moment. It did, however, hold an atmosphere of anticipation. Miss Jones held court among her new passel of admirers at one of the two long tables that dominated the room’s center. Smaller tables dotted the perimeter, their occupants also taking interest in the proceedings. Though the vicar did his best to exert an authoritative presence, this was clearly Loretta’s show.
Elizabeth and Mrs. Knightley quietly took seats on the bench at the table’s far end. Miss Jones noted their arrival but was too much occupied in regaling her audience with tales of her captivity among the gypsies to acknowledge the two ladies with more than a glance — a glance which, to Elizabeth’s perception, seemed rather smug.
The serving girl brought out a steaming bowl and a hunk of bread, which she placed before Miss Jones, along with a pint of stout. As Loretta started on the stew, the server glanced pointedly round the table and asked what she could bring the rest of them. Elizabeth wanted nothing, but feeling compelled to order, requested tea.
Miss Jones’s tales slowed as she ate. Whatever lies she might be weaving — and Elizabeth was sure they numbered many — her hunger was real. She had already emptied her bowl when Elizabeth’s tea arrived.
“What do you intend to do now that you are free of the gypsies?” Mr. Elton asked.