“See for yourself.”
Darcy grasped the basket by its handle and brought it beside him. Casting Elizabeth a dubious look, he lifted the cover.
And suddenly looked up at her again. “The christening set?”
“And your mother’s ring.” She removed her glove. “I put it on my finger for safekeeping.”
He leaned forward, took her hand, and examined the ring as best he could in the dismal light. “It appears undamaged.” Though done with his inspection, he retained her hand. His knees brushed against hers as the coach jostled. “What explanation did she give?”
“None. She was gone before I found them in the bottom of the basket. She said only that Mr. Deal was suspected of many things of which he is not guilty.”
“His mother had our stolen belongings in her possession. I would say that connects him rather strongly with the theft.”
“Unless she obtained them herself from the thieves in order to return them to us.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Perhaps to win our goodwill toward her son? To demonstrate that gypsies — some, at least — are acquainted with honor?”
“Or to distract us from the more heinous crime of Edgar Churchill’s murder.”
“Or that,” she conceded. “Whatever her motive, we have recovered our possessions, which means that as soon as Edgar Churchill’s poisoner is identified, we can collect our daughter and Georgiana, and finally join Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam at Brierwood.”
“You could go now. Jeffrey can drive you to London tomorrow to retrieve Lily-Anne and my sister, then take all of you to Brierwood whenever you wish. I will meet you there when this Churchill matter is resolved.”
She was tempted, but shook her head. Her place was with Darcy.
“Mrs. Knightley would never forgive me,” she said. “I would return in a month to find the case still unsolved, and you and Mr. Knightley discussing husbandry over spruce beer.”
“Thank goodness you have returned.”
Had Mrs. Knightley not said a word upon their arrival at Hartfield, Darcy would have seen in her face that something had changed. He and Elizabeth hastily removed their cloaks and followed her to the drawing room. She shut the doors.
“Mr. Perry was here earlier,” she said. “He came directly from Randalls, where one of the maids is ill. He suspects belladonna.”
“Will she recover?” Elizabeth asked.
“Mr. Perry is confident. He treated her as he did Frank Churchill, and she is already improved. Like Frank, she is young and of stronger constitution than Edgar Churchill was.”
“Who is she?” Darcy asked.
“One of the kitchen girls — Nellie.”
The maid Mrs. Bates had been talking about that morning. “Does Mr. Perry have any notion how she might have ingested the poison?”
“He says she imbibed a philtre she had obtained from Mr. Deal.”
Darcy could scarcely comprehend anybody’s being so foolish. “Why would she do that, knowing he had been arrested?”
“Young girls do unwise things,” Elizabeth said.
“Apparently, she meant to prove to some of the other servants that Mr. Deal is innocent of any wrongdoing,” Mrs. Knightley explained. “While in the village earlier today, she asked Miss Jones for a tea leaf reading, and when that failed to produce the ‘evidence’ she hoped for, she went back to Randalls and drank the whole phial.”
“Good heavens!” Elizabeth looked down at the signet ring on her finger. “I had wanted to believe him guiltless.”
So had Darcy. “Mr. Deal might not be the poisoner. It could be his mother. She shares at least some of the guilt — by Mr. Deal’s own admission, she was the one who prepared the remedies he sold.”
“I cannot believe that of her.” Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Knightley. “I met Rawnie Zsófia, Mr. Deal’s gypsy mother, today, while Mr. Darcy was in conference with Mr. Deal.” At Mrs. Knightley’s expression of astonishment, she continued. “I will tell you more about our interview later, but she did not impress me as a capricious person.” Elizabeth turned back to Darcy. “Why would she poison people randomly? Edgar Churchill, I can understand, if she thought she was somehow protecting her son. Frank Churchill, I can understand — he grew up in the privilege that was by right Mr. Deal’s. But a naïve kitchen maid infatuated with a handsome peddler? I fail to comprehend why either Mr. Deal or his mother would harm her, or sell tainted physics to the village at large.”
“Perhaps the philtre was meant for someone else and accidentally found its way into her hands,” Darcy said. “Or it was unknowingly contaminated with belladonna while the poison was being prepared for the Churchills. Regardless, it implicates Mr. Deal, which means I will be making another trip to Guildford to question him. And this time I will travel alone.” He did not want to chance Elizabeth’s having another private encounter with Rawnie Zsófia. She might not survive it.
“Mr. Knightley might go with you,” Mrs. Knightley said. “As soon as Mr. Perry suspected that Nellie had been poisoned, we sent an express to London. If I know my husband, he will lose no time returning here to attend to this latest incident himself.”
Darcy would prefer Mr. Knightley’s companionship. In truth, he would prefer to not immediately climb back into the carriage for another journey to Guildford. He consulted his watch. “I do not want to delay too long. Among other questions, we need to ask Mr. Deal how many remedies he sold in Highbury and to whom. If Mr. Knightley has not returned in two hours, I shall go without him. Meanwhile, Mr. Perry should advise the villagers against trusting any preparations purchased from Mr. Deal, if they have not already used them.”
“We can stop at the apothecary shop to see him on our way to speak with Miss Jones,” Elizabeth said.
“He is not there,” Mrs. Knightley replied. “He has gone back to Randalls to check on his patient. However, he promised to stop here again with a report. I will convey your recommendation about warning the villagers.”
“We also need to talk to Thomas Dixon. Is he here?”
“No, he is gone to London to see about Miss Bates’s new furniture.”
Was nobody in Highbury today? “When he returns, try to keep him here until we have an opportunity to question him. It seems he knows more about Edgar Churchill’s final hours than he has admitted.”
As Darcy and Elizabeth waited for their cloaks, Mrs. Knightley suddenly recalled another matter for Darcy’s attention. “In all the business about Nellie, I nearly forgot — a letter arrived for you. Actually, it was addressed to both you and Mr. Knightley.” She went to retrieve it and returned directly.
Darcy knew the hand at once.
Gentlemen,
I am delighted to be of service in your investigation, particularly in regards to this most intriguing clue. I assure you of my discretion, as well as that of the young philologist to whom I referred your query. Mr. Atwell has a keen interest in lexicography; indeed, I believe he means to be the next Samuel Johnson. I enclose herewith his reply. You will see that although he offers several possible meanings for “unkind individual,” he decidedly favors one. Mr. Atwell believes the writer’s employment of the collective noun for crows to denote “murder” suggests the use of the same strategy in the earlier portion of the message. For my part, although I find it fascinating to learn that a group of ravens is called an “unkindness”—an altogether fitting term for the gloomy creatures — I fail to see how that information can possibly aid your quest. Shall I present the message to another connoisseur of language? I know a professor at Oxford who might be consulted. Consider me at your disposal. I am—
Yours sincerely,
Chatfield
It was the very event to engage those who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and the servants in the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news.
— Emma
Perhaps a raven witnessed the murder of Churchill.”
The fully revealed message sent a shiver through Elizabeth as she spoke it aloud. “If the riddle is true, the raven did not merely portend Edgar Churchill’s death — the poisoning occurred at the camp.”