The Lady's Jewels

by Perpetua Langley

  “Nearly,” Elizabeth said. “His view is that one placed high enough in society might bend the rules. That, he said outright. Therefore, the implication is that one not placed high enough had better not put a foot out of place.”

  Jane was pensive for a moment. Then she said, “I suppose it is no matter. He does not seem at all suited to you.”

  Elizabeth did not answer. Jane’s words were true, of course. Mr. Darcy was not at all suited to her. She could not quite work out why that idea did not sit as well as it should. She supposed it was her own vanity. Even if she were to find no interest in Mr. Darcy, she felt a bit stung that he had so thoroughly pointed out his lack of interest in her.

  Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had grown entirely too used to being sought after at assemblies by the inhabitants of the neighborhood. She had never sat out a dance since the arrival of the officers. She supposed it only a rude shock to her pride to note that she was not sought after everywhere.

  Darcy and Bingley walked side by side, scouring the ground. Quinn had given them strict instructions that anything other than leaves, grass, dirt or sticks was to be brought to his notice. In fact, any unusual arrangement or disturbance of even leaves, grass, dirt or sticks was to be noted.

  Darcy had been waiting for an opportune moment to counsel his friend, though it had proved difficult. Bingley was always to be found by Jane Bennet’s side. He only hoped he had not delayed too long. If anything had been absolutely said, it would be near impossible to extricate his friend. Miss Bennet was not Miss Munchin and Mr. Bennet was not a failed wine merchant.

  “Bingley,” Darcy began, “I would ask your intentions toward Miss Bennet. I believe you are nearly declaring yourself with your behavior.”

  Mr. Bingley flushed red. “Do you think so?” he asked. “I’ve hardly been able to work out how one should go about it in this unusual situation. How does one call on a lady who lives in the house?”

  “But you have not absolutely said anything, have you?”

  “No,” Bingley admitted. “I believe I have hinted though.”

  Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. It was not too late. A hint, though serious, could not hold a man to anything.

  “You are right,” Darcy said, “it is an unusual situation. That is precisely what I would counsel you on. You have been much thrown together and can you be certain that is not the real cause of affection? I would only mention the unfortunate Miss—”

  “Munchin,” Bingley said. “Yes, I know. I was very foolish to have succumbed to the lady and owe you gratitude for exposing the scheme before it was too late. But, Darcy, this is quite different!”

  “How do you know?” Darcy asked.

  “I see your meaning. You do not trust me to understand my own intentions,” Bingley said. “You fear that close proximity sways me and were I to find myself at a distance, my feelings would fade.”

  “That is what I fear. I do not wish you to make a mistake.”

  Bingley’s face brightened. “I know what I shall do, Darcy. I shall rent a house nearby. There is one not too far from here. I heard of it from Miss Bennet herself, it is called Netherfield.”

  Darcy worked to keep the scowl from his features. Renting a house in the neighborhood was not at all what he’d had in mind. Doing so would keep Bingley even longer near Miss Bennet than if they simply left after the jewels were recovered, which Darcy hoped would be quickly.

  “It is ideal, really,” Bingley went on. “I am sure we impose upon the Bennets too much. At Netherfield, we may continue the war room and I may reflect on my feelings and proceed accordingly.”

  Darcy sighed.

  “Though I think you are wrong about my state of mind, Darcy. Miss Jane Bennet can have no equal in the world. We are perfectly suited. You will see that distance makes no difference in the matter.”

  Bingley paused, then said, “This way really will be best. I should not like to think of you unsure of my faculties as I go forward in this matter.”

  “I hold nothing against Jane Bennet,” Darcy said. “Though as a practical matter, she does not provide much in the way of benefit.”

  “A practical matter!” Bingley exclaimed. “Of course, that is how you will go about it for yourself. Darcy, you are wise in many things, but here I think you are wrong. There is nothing practical about love and there is no marriage worth having without it.”

  Darcy raised his brows. “Spoken like a philosopher, though I cannot entirely endorse the sentiment. It is the sort of thing that sounds noble when said but becomes rather problematic in action.”

  Bingley clapped Darcy on the back and said, “I will attempt to find Netherfield’s agent on the morrow.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Mr. Quinn. He held a small piece of fabric between his fingers. “Our first piece of evidence!”

  Mr. Quinn’s pronouncement brought all conversation to a halt. He hurried to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley and the three men huddled over the discovery.

  Lady Castlereagh called from the table. “Mr. Quinn? The ladies will not be left out on such a matter. Please bring the find to the table.”

  Mr. Quinn, ever at the service of his patroness, rushed over to the table, while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley trailed behind. He held up the scrap of material.

  “Discovered hanging from a low branch on one of the oaks,” Mr. Quinn said. “Lady Castlereagh, does the color match the shirt your coachman or grooms would have worn?”

  Lady Castlereagh put out her hand and took the cloth, examining it through a lorgnette. “Not only it is the wrong color, Mr. Quinn, it is simply wrong. This is a poplin of middling quality. I would hardly order such a thing to be worn by my servants. Others may skimp and dress their people in rags, but it speaks of a household not properly run.”

  “I see,” Mr. Quinn said thoughtfully. “So, others were at the scene, which supports Lady Castlereagh’s opinion that it could not have been her own servants who did the deed. Of course, there are any number of types who might wear such a fabric.”

  “I do not see how this is much of a clue,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “That is very often the case, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Quinn said, “upon the moment of discovery. Yet, over time this may come to mean something.”

  Mr. Darcy appeared skeptical that a scrap of cloth might come to mean something. Elizabeth was inclined to agree with the sentiment. After all, a common poplin could belong to anybody. It might be a merchant, or baker, or farrier. It might be a servant, even if Lady Castlereagh would not deem it worthy of her own. Though it was Lady Castlereagh’s opinion that such a house was not properly run, Hill might own any number of garments made from similar stuff. Elizabeth supposed she ought to be offended by the pronouncement, but she was not much—she had grown accustomed to the lady’s unique views, gathered from traveling in rarified circles.

  “Miss Lucas,” Mr. Quinn said, “if you will be so kind as to start a list of evidence. One scrap of fabric, middling quality poplin, not associated with Lady Castlereagh’s coachman or grooms.”

  Elizabeth suddenly started. An idea had presented itself to her. Lady Castlereagh had deemed a house dressing their servants in such material as not properly run. That sentiment was similar to something the lady had said on that first day.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Quinn,” Elizabeth said, “but I have a thought. I do not know if it could possibly be correct—”

  “Do not withhold any idea, Miss Bennet!” Mr. Quinn cried. “No matter how outlandish, everything must be considered!”

  Elizabeth felt herself flush as all eyes turned upon her. “I hope it is not outlandish, sir. I only thought that Lady Castlereagh has pointed out that, in her opinion, a house dressing its servants in such a material was not properly run. On the day I discovered the lady, she spoke of a house across the park that was ill-run. That very house contained the butler who ran off with Lady Castlereagh’s maid. They planned to sail to America and settle upon some land. They must have been in need of funds, and who better
than a lady’s maid to know the contents of a jewel case?”

  “And so you theorize,” Mr. Quinn said, “that they may have plotted together to steal the jewels to procure money to start their new life together? That the material comes from the butler’s own shirt?”

  “Just so, Mr. Quinn,” Elizabeth said.

  “Interesting theory, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Quinn said, “however, like so many theories, it falls apart upon further examination. The maid and the butler set sail for America some months ago.”

  Here was where Elizabeth thought she may have worked out something that Mr. Quinn had not. If she was right. “But did you see them board the ship, Mr. Quinn?”

  Mr. Quinn appeared stymied, then staggered back. Mr. Bingley caught him and set him back on his feet. “I did not!” he cried. “They were at the wharf, and then disappeared into the crowd. I see where you go with this, Miss Bennet! What if the maid and the butler merely pretended to set sail, and then bided their time, waiting for an opportunity? It would be a masterly plan. One does not suspect those who are thought to be across an ocean.”

  “Precisely,” Elizabeth said, pleased that she had made her point.

  “Miss Bennet,” Lady Castlereagh said, “you have marked yourself prodigiously clever.”

  “She is very clever,” Mr. Bingley said softly to Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Darcy did not reply, nor would he have had the opportunity to do so, as Mr. Quinn had raised his arm, pointed to the sky and nearly shouted, “I ride for London on the morrow!”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together to hide a smile, as she did not believe London to be in that direction.

  “I will gather a group of men I can trust and send them in all directions to check the passenger lists,” Mr. Quinn continued. “If I find those two scoundrels did not board a ship, I think we know who we are after. Once that is confirmed, I can make arrangements at every port to stop them when they do attempt to make their escape. Then, we will have time to track them down in whatever hole they hide in.”

  “Lady Castlereagh,” Elizabeth said, “in considering the temperament of your maid, would you describe her as a very daring sort? It seems she would be, as she’s run off with a butler.”

  “Quite, Miss Bennet. I used to scold her for her saucy tongue, and I understand she was not much loved below stairs as she put on all sorts of airs. Once, I entered my bedchamber unexpectedly and found her wearing a pair of my gloves. She was a daring chit of a thing. Why should you wonder about it?”

  “It is possible,” Elizabeth said slowly, “that they play a bigger game than we have yet realized. What if the jewels were only a first step? What if they hold your coachman and grooms, believing that far more money could be had for ransom?”

  Chapter Seven

  At Elizabeth’s suggestion that Lady Castlereagh’s errant maid and the butler she’d run off with might hold the coachman and grooms prisoner, Lady Castlereagh appeared confused. “If that is the case, why have we not received a note?”

  Mr. Quinn slapped his forehead. “I had wondered why we had not yet received a note. Why wait? Keeping prisoners is always problematic, any seasoned criminal would carry on with it for the least amount of time possible. But these two are in a different situation. These two may be waiting until their plans for escape have been thoroughly set up so that they may fly the moment they take possession of the ransom.”

  “Devious!” Mr. Bingley said.

  “I feel very much encouraged, Mr. Quinn,” Lady Castlereagh said. “I had begun to fear that I must let go of all hope of recovering my servants.”

  Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and said quietly, “Brava, sister. Well done.”

  Elizabeth smiled. She did feel as if she had done well. She noticed Mr. Darcy staring at her, with a very particular scowl on his face. She supposed he considered it not very lady-like to go about solving crimes. No matter. It was her own opinion that it was perfectly lady-like for a female to put her mind to good use. She was certain her own father would agree, and her father’s opinion must be the only man’s opinion that was of any consequence. She was convinced of it. Or at least, she should be convinced of it and no doubt would be convinced of it soon.

  The next hour was consumed by plans for Mr. Quinn’s departure. It was determined that once he reached the city, he would send out men to make suitable inquiries at the ports to determine if the maid and butler remained in England. He would also take some time to interview Lord Castlereagh’s new secretary, Mr. Cratchet. The secretary had been much in the house prior to Lady Castlereagh’s departure and might have noticed a person lurking near the house. Even if the butler attempted a disguise, it would be helpful to know if a man of his height and build had been seen.

  Jimmy was to drive the Bow Street man in the Bennet’s carriage as it had been hinted that Mr. Quinn was not altogether a skilled horseman. As Elizabeth had expected, Jimmy was delighted with the scheme. One might have thought Matthew would be disappointed that he was not chosen, but Elizabeth knew Matthew liked to stick close by his work horses and looked forward to having Jimmy’s constant chatter out of his earshot for some days.

  Jenny, Lady Castlereagh’s new maid, was set to arrive on the morrow, and Mr. Quinn directed that she should be interviewed at once. He bowed to Charlotte and said, “If our lady scribe can be prevailed upon to take down her statements for my review when I return?”

  Charlotte very prettily nodded in the affirmative.

  Elizabeth was very much inclined to believe there was something developing between her friend and Mr. Quinn. Particularly in light of the fact that Mr. Quinn spent the rest of the picnic congratulating Sir William and Lady Lucas on their daughter.

  The next morning had seen Mr. Quinn off at dawn. Elizabeth, and the rest of the inhabitants of the house, might have slept through the departure, had Jimmy not been tasked to take the man. As it was, Jimmy had any number of thoughts which he would express loudly on the drive. It was his opinion that dawn was the best time to set off on a journey, and those that waited ‘til midday were cracked in the head. He also wished Mr. Quinn to know that he’d railed against cook until he prevailed upon her to pack up victuals for the trip as a fellow couldn’t be expected to pretend he didn’t get hungry. He concluded his thoughts by mentioning that he’d never set foot in London, but he was confident that London would take to him as soon as London had got a look at him.

  Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to block the images that floated across her thoughts. Her father’s vast amusement and Mr. Darcy’s vast irritation over the diatribe. Finally, the clatter of hooves signaled that Mr. Quinn was off. Whatever else Jimmy had to say, and Elizabeth was certain it would be quite a lot, was to be out of her hearing.

  Later that morning, Elizabeth, Jane, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Charlotte gathered round the war room table, sans Lady Castlereagh who did not generally descend until near eleven. Lydia and Kitty huddled in a distant corner of the room, they being wholly uninterested in Lady Castlereagh’s plight. Elizabeth was certain their conversation was empty-headed and entirely concerned with red uniforms.

  Those that were interested in Lady Castlereagh’s plight found themselves rather directionless without Mr. Quinn at the helm. Elizabeth thought they might have more luck when Lady Castlereagh’s maid Jenny arrived, as that would give them something to do.

  Mrs. Bennet sat in front of the fire with her sewing, though she spent far more time looking at Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy than she did her stitches. Though she sat as chaperone, Elizabeth was certain that if she noted any tendency to propose, everybody else would be force-marched from the room and the couple left alone.

  Mr. Bennet, all too familiar with his wife’s schemes, found there were various improvements needed to far off fences and made his exit from the house early.

  After the breakfast things had been cleared, Mr. Bingley had suddenly leapt from his chair and said, “Well. I will go out for a bit.”

  Jane and Elizabeth had glanced at
each other. Mr. Bingley did not invite anybody to accompany him, nor say where he went. He did not even indicate whether he walked or rode. By Mr. Darcy’s expression, it seemed that wherever Mr. Bingley was taking himself off to, Mr. Darcy did not approve. It was all very strange.

  Mr. Bingley fairly raced from the room and there was a long, uncomfortable silence. It was finally broken by sounds on the drive. Mr. Bingley rode his horse at a fast clip, passing by a well-appointed carriage.

  “That must belong to Lady Castlereagh,” Elizabeth said, rising. “Her maid Jenny must be arrived. Why does Mr. Bingley not stop? He should be part of the interview.”

  Nobody answered her, and Elizabeth thought she should not have said it. It was none of her concern where Mr. Bingley might be going.

  Jenny was a sturdy girl of twenty or so, country bred of strong stock. At the start of the interview, she’d seemed uncomfortable to have so many people staring at her. Elizabeth tried to put her at ease by asking about her journey.

  “Well,” Jenny said, seeming to warm to the question, “it were discombobulating, to be sure. She says go there, and I go there, and then there’s a note delivered sayin’ go here and she been robbed. I ain’t heard of nothing like it.”

  “I am certain it must have been very distressing,” Elizabeth said. “Now, we have been tasked by Mr. Quinn to find out from you what you may have noticed out of the ordinary in the house during the weeks leading up to the journey.”

  Jenny snorted. “Out of the ordinary? What’s in the ordinary in that house, I should like to know.”

  Mr. Darcy bristled at this comment and said, “You may keep your opinions to yourself, we are interested in facts. If you have any.”

  Elizabeth did not think Mr. Darcy’s scolding tone would help elicit information from the maid. “Jenny,” she said, “every house has its habits. It’s way of going about things and its people associated with it. We wish to know if anything that was not usual occurred or whether anybody not in the usual way of things was there. Think of the week before the trip.”