“I shall not divulge Lady Anne’s confidence. Her Ladyship trusted me.”
Holding up his palms, Richard assured her, “I would never ask that of you. What I must know is how many children were born that night.”
“H-how manywhat?” She jiggled her left ear. “Pardon me, Colonel, but my hearing is not what it used to be. I do not think I heard you correctly.”
He smiled reassuringly at her. “You heard me perfectly well. How many children did you help bring into the world?”
She sank against the back of her chair, and Richard was not certain if it was in shock or a desire to distance herself from her mad guest. “I am afraid I do not understand why you should ask such a question. There was one baby born that night. One Darcy, a boy, the heir.”
“That was what I thought, but recent events have made me doubt.”
She huffed. “I might appear frail, but my mind is sound. There was one child born that night. One. A boy. It was a difficult birth, and Lady Anne fell unconscious by the end. She was not well, but my nurse and I saw her through. We cared for the babe and nursed Her Ladyship back to the living.” She looked into the fire, lost in her memories, her voice softening into a whisper. “I urged her not to have more children. I warnedher of the danger.”
Richard waited until her attention returned to the present. “I do not doubt your word, Mrs. Finchley, however, I am sure you understand how having another eyewitness to confirm your account would go a long way in establishing veracity. Where might I find the nurse who was with you?”
She sighed. “Her name was Catherine Currey—a lovely woman, very capable. From Gloucestershire, if I recall correctly.”
“How might I find her?”
Mrs. Finchley pinched her lips into a frown, speaking slowly. “I am dreadfully sorry to inform you she died some time ago.”
A dead end. Richard rubbed his hand over his face. “When?”
“I can never forget. Mrs. Currey disappeared without a word. She gave no indication she was in trouble or that she would be away. She just left. I waited and waited for her to return, and I recall the day clearly because I had put in an advertisement to hire her replacement when I saw a notice about her in the paper. She had suffered a horrible carriage accident.”
“Where did this happen?”
“It was just outside Devonshire.”
Devonshire. Richard sat on the edge of his seat. “What was she doing there?”
“I cannot account for it. She had no family, none that I am aware of. The vicar of the parishhad put the notice in the paper in the hope that someone might claim her, give her a proper burial. I was happy to oblige. More than that, I do not know.” She looked blindly into the fireplace, tears dimming her eyes.
Richard gave her time to compose herself. She dabbed at her cheeks, and when she had tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve and poured the last of the tea out of the pot, he asked softly, “Do you remember the name of the village?”
Her hand trembled, the teapot clattering against the tray when she set it down. “Oh, bother. It is a wonder I have any china left at all. I am not so much in demand now that I am old and frail, but these hands were once strong. I was much sought after in those times. I never lost a lady in the birthing room. Not one.” She sat taller, proudly. She had not answered his question—now that Richard thought about it, she had answered hardly any of his questions—but he did not feel it appropriate to press her either.
After a few minutes of lighter conversation, he thanked her and bid his farewells.
She tried to stand, but Richard begged her not to exert herself.
“Very well, young man. If you insist. I do hope I have been helpful to you.”
Richard smiled at her. He had always had a soft spot for women of a certain age. “If you remember anything else—”
“I shall send for you. Then, I shall have the pleasure of your company again.”
If only he found it as easy to please a lady of a more marriageable age. He pondered that detail along with the fastest route to Devonshire as he returned to his family’s residence.
Amelia Finchley watchedColonel Fitzwilliam leave from the curtains of her upstairs parlor. He would be trouble if she was not careful. She had known this moment might come in her lifetime, and she had been prepared. The lines she had rehearsed over and over had flowed over her tongue, too little to encourage further investigation and just enough to make her seem helpful and above reproach.
She gave him every reason to believe her nothing more than a forgetful woman well past her prime. If he only knew the truth…. Amelia’s lips twisted and she rubbed her hands together. Peers of the realm paid her for her silence. She held them in the palm of her veined hands. Clenching her fists, her smile widened. She would give the colonel a few days, then she would pay him a call. Perhaps he would prove useful to her. One never knew when an opportunity presented itself, and Amelia was always ready.
The pristine Portlandstone of his family’s home was always a welcome sight to Richard. As was Rouncewell when he pulled up beside him in a carriage a short distance from Matlock House. Handing his horse to the groom to take to the mews, Richard joined Rouncewell at his conveyance. His step faltered when he saw who sat across from his old friend.
“Colonel, I apologize for sneaking up on you like this, but the young lady insisted on speaking with you.” He handed Miss Rothschild out of the carriage before the lady’s footman reached the door. Her auburn hair glistened in the late summer sun. She wore a blue gown the color of the sky.
“Miss Rothschild, allow me to present Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Colonel, this is Miss Emily Rothschild.” Rouncewell spoke hurriedly. That done, he nodded at them. “I apologize, but I cannot stay a moment longer. I have to track down a street sweeper who remembers seeing two sailors he had not seen before who nobody else seemed to know, and they have not been seen since. It is difficult to learn anything in that part of town. Loyalties run deep, but these two sailors were outsiders. One had an eye patch.”
