Rawnie Zsófia continued. “I do not think Loretta wanted to gain the skill of a drabarni, so much as the mystique of one. She is not alone in this. There are many Romani who learn only enough to persuade gorgios to part with their money. Loretta found such a one in our kumpania to teach her, and was starting to earn a fair number of coins. But it will be luck, not prophecy, if any of her foretellings actually come to pass. When she told Edgar Churchill’s fortune, she made such a jumble of it that another drabarni had to help her.”
“She met Edgar Churchill? When?”
“He came to our camp one afternoon, the day after Hram revealed himself to his father. Another gentleman was with him. I do not know his name.”
“How did you know he was Mr. Churchill?”
“My son had told me about his meeting with Churchill the day before, and my tea leaves that morning had told me to expect a visitor named ‘C.’ But even without that sign, I would have known him for Hram’s father.”
That Edgar Churchill had visited the gypsy encampment was certainly an interesting turn of events. “Why did Mr. Churchill come?”
“They were not seeking our camp, but when they came upon it, Loretta and a Romani girl persuaded the other gentleman to have his fortune told. Churchill looked uneasy, but also curious. He kept glancing about — maybe he hoped to see Hram, who was away in the village, or maybe he simply feared someone else would pass by and see him talking with gypsies. The girl and Loretta took them aside, and I busied myself nearby so I could observe the man my son had so long yearned to meet.
“Loretta made tea while her friend read the gentleman’s palm. After telling that fortune, the girl invited Churchill to give her his palm, but he refused. Loretta encouraged him to drink his tea, and talked very prettily to him, and by the time he finished the tea she had persuaded him to let her read the leaves.” Rawnie Zsófia rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head. “Of course, she had no idea what she was looking for. She uttered such nonsense that her friend took the cup from her and added her own forecast, so Churchill would feel that he got something for his coin. But even she seemed unsure. As Churchill and the other gentleman rose to go, one of the ravens flew over to them. It landed beside Churchill and let out a cry that sounded almost like a laugh. The other gentleman was amused, but the bird made Churchill even more uneasy, and they hurried away. I cannot blame him.”
“Why?”
“Ravens are bad omens. They nearly always mean trouble. And they often mean death.”
A chill passed through Elizabeth, and she burrowed more deeply into her cloak. “Did you warn Mr. Churchill?”
She shook her head. “The true meanings of omens take time to reveal themselves. The raven could be seen as a portent for Hram, that Churchill meant to harm him as his wife had threatened. Until I was sure, I had my son to protect.”
Rawnie Zsófia’s shawl had slipped. She returned it to her shoulders and started to rise. “The clouds grow thicker, and I have a long walk back to the kumpania. I must go.”
Elizabeth offered to drive her, but Rawnie Zsófia declined. She allowed the footman to assist her out of the coach, then extended her basket toward Elizabeth.
“I brought my son food, and medicines to keep him well in that unhealthy staripen. Will your husband give this to Hram?”
Elizabeth accepted the basket. She could predict Darcy and Mr. Knightley’s response. Heaven only knew what the “medicines” might contain, and who they were really intended for. “Only with the magistrate’s approval. I will be truthful with you — I doubt Mr. Deal will be allowed to have the medicines. He is suspected of poisoning someone, after all.”
“My son is suspected of many things he has not done.” She nodded towards the basket. “Look you inside, Rawnie Darcy. You will see.” She closed the coach door.
Elizabeth leaned against the seat. The air inside the coach still held the scent of perfume, and her mind whirled with all she had just heard. A few minutes passed before she returned altogether to the present; still more time would be required to absorb what she had learned.
She pulled the basket onto her lap and drew back the cloth that covered its contents. Apples and other foodstuffs filled it, along with several stoppered phials. She removed the food and medicines, setting them on the seat beside her. Another cloth lined the bottom, apparently bunched to form a cushion. She lifted out the cloth and discovered that the fabric did not itself form the cushion, but covered something else.
In the bottom of the basket, carefully folded, lay the Fitzwilliam family christening garments. And on top of them, Lady Anne’s signet ring.
“How animated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!”
— Emma Woodhouse, Emma
Did we not agree that you would stay in the carriage?”
The set of Darcy’s jaw told Elizabeth that he was not furious. But he was not happy. An unkind thought regarding their servants passed through her mind as the coach lurched into motion. She could not believe they had betrayed her, however good their intentions. “Jeffrey told you?”
“Jeffrey? No. The gaolers saw fit to inform me. They are fine fellows — the very sort from whom one wants to hear reports about one’s wife.”
“I was in the carriage—” He gave her a hard look. “Well, in view of the carriage.”
“That is hardly the same thing.”
“You will be glad I took the liberty, when I tell you what occurred.”
The journey back to Highbury passed swiftly as Elizabeth recounted her conversation with Rawnie Zsófia. Thankfully, Darcy’s mood improved with each detail.
“So,” he said when she had done, “Edgar Churchill visited the gypsy camp on the day he died. I wager the other gentleman was Thomas Dixon. He was evasive when we asked him where he and Mr. Churchill walked that afternoon.”
“But why the secrecy? Does Mr. Dixon simply not want to bear the stigma of a person who associates with gypsies? Does he think he would appear foolish if it were known that he consulted a fortuneteller?” She paused, attempting to imagine the impeccably dressed Thomas Dixon in the midst of a roisterous gypsy camp. “Or did he lead Mr. Churchill there for some reason? Did they truly just happen upon the camp, or did one or both of them deliberately seek the caravan?”
“If either of them went there intentionally, I should think it would have been Edgar Churchill, seeking Mr. Deal.”
“Unless Mr. Dixon had intentions of his own. Rawnie Zsófia said that he was entirely willing to have his fortune told that day, yet he refused to let Loretta read his tea leaves two days ago at the Crown. Perhaps he was afraid that the second reading would reveal something about him that he does not want known.”
“Or he realized that the only revelation Miss Jones made at the camp was that she is an utter charlatan, and he was wise enough not to be taken in twice. Too, bear in mind that we have only Rawnie Zsófia’s account of what occurred in the camp, and she is not to be trusted.”
“Because she is a gypsy?”
“That alone is reason enough. But she is also Mr. Deal’s mother, and admitted that she protected her son at the expense of Edgar Churchill’s safety.”
“When did she say that?”
“In regards to the raven’s warning.”
Though it was dim inside the coach, Elizabeth beheld him with astonishment. “And when did Fitzwilliam Darcy start believing in omens?”
“I do not. But if Rawnie Zsófia does, then declining to act upon what she perceived as a warning bespeaks a less than honorable character. And if this renowned fortune-teller does not believe in portents, she is a greater fraud than Miss Jones. Either way, she is guilty of deceit and could be guilty of more. Indeed, she herself could very well be the poisoner. Of all the suspects, she alone possesses expert knowledge of herbs, and now we know she had the opportunity to administer the poison hours before Edgar Churchill died.”
“But she had no direct interaction with Mr. Churchill while he was at the camp.”
“So she claims. As I said, we have no reason to trust her.”
Though Elizabeth followed Darcy’s logic, she could not deny her own instincts. Darcy had not met Rawnie Zsófia; he had only cold reason and secondhand accounts to guide his interpretation of her. While Elizabeth remained cautious, she was not unwilling to believe that Zsófia’s words contained at least some truth. She considered the return of the baptismal clothes and signet ring an act of good faith — a development she had not yet shared with Darcy.
“We started discussing Edgar Churchill’s visit to the gypsy camp before I reached the most surprising part of my conversation with Rawnie Zsófia.”
“Did she tell your fortune?”
“No, she left this basket.” It remained beside her on the seat. Elizabeth had repacked it with the most interesting article on top, protected by the cloth cover.
“I just delivered Miss Bates’s. Are we starting a collection?”
“This one was also intended for Mr. Deal, but it contains something for us, as well.”