They filed up the stairs to the guest chambers, where Mrs. Annesley’s room joined Georgiana’s.
Aunt Helen removed the box from the armoire,twisting the square from side to side. “Did you, perhaps, find a key?”
Alex reached out. “I’ll help with that.”
Aunt raised her eyebrows, but she handed it over.
Plucking a pin out of her hair, Alex turned the box around so that the hinges faced her, shoved the pins through their fastenings, and opened it in a matter of seconds.
Aunt took the box to a chair set in the corner, and Darcy held his breath as he heard her shuffle and poke through the items inside. Then the rustle of pages … and silence.
When Aunt Helen turned, her face was ashen white. Her hand trembled as she handed the papers to Uncle.
He took one glance, his hand raising to his throat, then out to steady himself against the armoire.
A clue.
Darcy could contain himself no longer. “What? What is it?”
Uncle held the papers out to him, speechless.
Richard and Elizabeth closed in on his sides; Nick read over his shoulder.
The first name at the top of the list.Darcy—sold.Only the wordsoldhad been crossed out, and beside it was writtendisposed.
He shuffled through the pages. There were half a dozen of them, crammed with names and words such asfostered, adopted, sold,anddisposed.
So intent was he on his name, thefirst in the hundreds of surnames listed, Darcy handed the rest of the pages to Richard without looking up. He heard Richard’s rough finger run down the parchment, heard his gasp, and his pained, “Rothschild is on the list.Rothschild, adopted.”
Miss Rothschild was at his side in a flash, leaning over him as she read and tried to blink away her tears. “I knew it,” she whispered.
A swishing sound at the door alerted them to a visitor, and Darcy looked up to see Mrs. Annesley standing beside the butler in the hall. She stumbled forward, hand clutching her throat. “Did you find it? Oh, I had hoped you would. This saves us valuable time. I dared not appear until you had returned.” She hastened over to the curtains, drawing them closed. “She has men watching the house.”
“Who? Mrs. Finchley?” Darcy asked.
“She has dozens in her employ. Her resources are limitless. She will know I am here with you. We must take this evidence to the authorities immediately before she escapes.”
Miss Rothschild crumpled the handkerchief in her hand. “Wait, who are you? How did you get this list?”
Alex looped her arm through Miss Rothschild’s, her eyes narrow. “Why should we trust you?”
Georgiana clung to Aunt Helen. “If you knew about Mrs. Finchley’s dealings, why have you not spoken up before?”
Mrs. Annesley wrung her hands, her voice desperate. “Every minute lost is a minute to her advantage.”
“First, we must have some answers,” Uncle demanded. “What is your role in this atrocity?”
All eyes turned to Mrs. Annesley. Darcy felt Elizabeth’s hand near his, and he reached for her, needing to hold her. Needing her support.
CHAPTER 43
Mrs. Annesley bowed her head. Taking a deep breath, she began, speaking rapidly. “My real name is Mrs. Bird. My husband died two years after our marriage. Consumption. We were not blessed with children of our own and, being an only child, I had always wanted a large family. My mother was a midwife, and after I had married, she taught me her trade. The fever took her, and I was truly alone. Widowed and of meager means, I sought employment. I remember the day I first met Mrs. Finchley.” She pinched her eyes closed and took a deep breath.
Darcy leaned forward, willing her to return to her narrative. Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around his, and Darcy pulled her closer.
“She had the reputation of never losing a lady,” Mrs. Annesley continued, her voice edgy and bitter. “Shewas so knowledgeable and kind. How I wish I had never crossed paths with her. She is a monster.” Mrs. Annesley’s chest heaved.
After a few calming breaths, she resumed her story. “After assisting her with a birth, during which she observed my skills, she asked me to work as her nurse. She offered me a higher wage than my mother ever made. I ought to have known, I ought to have been suspicious, but her clientele was of a higher status than I was accustomed to. I dismissed my doubts and took the position. When she swore me to secrecy and indebted me to her by securing me a more presentable wardrobe along with new instruments, I assumed she was only being kind, only protecting the reputations of the ladies she assisted—not all of them being wed, mind you. Midwives must be discreet above all else if our services are to be sought after.”
