Some Particular Evil

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“ D av- Dav- Dayvenport,” Tom-Tom said, barely able to sound out the word as he held the People’s Hue most of the men he had observed were striving to gain what meagre income they could to support their families. They had a tankard of ale with their meals, but did he not do the same at his own table? To be sure, their idea of relaxation was a far cry from brandy and a cigar over billiards, but a bit of music and dancing were engaged in worldwide, were they not? Why should these men not enjoy such things as much as anyone?

No, he had been utterly wrong in his assessment of those whom he would have formerly considered so below him. Now that he was forced to make do with whatever he could procure within his limited sphere, he could not but respect these people who did the same without falling into despair. And to see little Tom-Tom applying himself so diligently to the task of learning to read and salty Sarah blossoming under his respectful treatment just proved to him further that even those who are forced to live in situations he found despicable might long for something better. If only something better were at hand.

Darcy shook himself from his reverie. These revelations had been regularly preoccupying him in the past several days. He often wondered what else he was in ignorance of.

But there was no time to think of that, now. He needed to pen some letters to Bow Street. Of course, he could not just post them with his return direction. No, he would have Tom-Tom take them to the Runners’ office personally and await a reply. Even this was a great risk, he knew, for could they not simply follow Tom-Tom back to the inn if he were indeed a wanted man? But it had to be done.

The first would be a simple request for information: Does there exist a warrant of any kind for a Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy? If the answer to that query was no, Tom-Tom would hand the man the second.

The second missive was almost as concise but much more delicate.

Darcy had read, nay, studied Elizabeth’s letter word for word and begun to understand that the situation he found himself in might be in some part related to the peculiar happenings at Rosings. Why would Anne be suddenly acting so strange? What had changed that her health would improve so drastically? And since when did she express any opinions at all, much less robust and flippant ones? And arguing with Lady Catherine? That was unprecedented indeed.

What concerned him most was what Elizabeth had told him about the pendant and the conversation that surrounded it. He had studied her drawing in detail to try to bring it back to his mind, but he had been so intent on forgetting his mother that he could not remember ever seeing it upon her throat. He tried to picture Lady Anne Darcy walking through the house wearing it, the sunlight hitting the rubies and making them glint pink, but he simply could not. However, Lady Catherine seemed to think it belonged to his mother, and Anne did not deny having stolen it.

When would Anne have had a chance to steal his mother’s jewellery? After Lady Anne had left? Could his cousin have seen her leaving before the rest of the house had returned that night?

A vision of his mother running down the grand steps of Pemberley and handing her portmanteau into the hands of her waiting lover flashed through his mind. He imagined the man smiling, throwing her case into the hired coach, pulling her into a conspiratorial embrace, and then lifting her into the carriage before climbing in himself. The thought hurt just as much as it had the first time he had experienced it sixteen years before, when townspeople began whispering that Lady Anne had run off with a carpenter during the harvest festival.

If Anne had witnessed his mother’s departure, then she could easily have made her way into the mistress’s chambers and pilfered what she liked while the house was empty. Well, almost empty.

The thought of tiny Georgiana all alone in that great manor, crying for her mother with no one to answer stabbed him afresh, and he had to shake himself back to the present.

Anne had stolen his mother’s necklace. And Lady Catherine knew about it. How could that possibly relate to the attempt on his life?

Darcy was determined to find out.