He faced forward, his eyes unfocused as he contemplated the generous form of the barmaid. A dwindling stream of coins from him had diverted her to better paying customers, and she occasionally sent him glances of annoyance for continuing at the tap. She was only slightly mollified when another man roughly squeezed between him and the man in the next seat, and Richard obligingly made way.
The man rolled a few coppers on the counter, gruffly ordering a drink and minding no one else. Richard spared him only sufficient attention to be certain that the man did not upset his own drink. The fellow remained long enough to decently finish his mug, dropped another coin on the counter by way of a gratuity, and lurched from his seat.
“Excuse me, my good fellow!” Richard took his attention. “I think you have upset my drink. It is rather close here, after all.”
“Beg your pardon, sir. I’ll buy you another.” The man fished within his purse and produced a copper coin, which he deposited directly into Richard’s hand.
“Jolly good of you, my man.” Richard pocketed the coin and shifted fully out of the other’s path. “Madam?” he gestured to the woman serving drinks. “Another, please.” He paid her and settled in for another easy quarter of an hour.
When he did finally depart, Richard ambled in his most leisurely mood toward his lodgings. He paused outside of a tobacconist’s shop, fingered the watch fob at his waist coat, and decided against entering. He tipped his hat toward the innkeeper’s wife as he mounted the stairs, then cast off his hat and overcoat upon his bed when he entered his room.
Instantly, he began searching the pocket of his coat, laughing softly when he withdrew a slim letter. “The devil, Broderick, you never disappoint,” he murmured. He had never even felt the missive sliding into his pocket, but had he, Broderick would not have been the right man for the job. Quickly he broke the seal.
Dear Sir,
Regarding the individual you apprehended on Brook Street some weeks ago; I began searching for him by observing the establishment belonging to a Mrs Y—. As you testified you had also done, I soon witnessed a man matching your description of being a smaller man of little account, appearing to engage in some argument with one of the maids employed there. He desired admittance to the back door of the house, but she repeatedly denied it until he went away. I was later able to identify him further by your claim of having knocked out his upper right tooth. I spoke with him only in passing to verify these facts, and he has not seen my face, for I assumed a rather bad cough when I spoke.
I followed him for eight nights to learn his habits. He frequents a room on Birchin Ln, of which he does not appear to be the primary tenant. There is another chap, quite a large fellow, who keeps company with merchants from the shipyard. Unfortunately, he does not seem to be more intimate with one set than he is with any other, but I am to understand that he has twice escaped the press-gangs by the help of his informants at the docks. His work appears to consist of riffling through other men’s pockets and taking odd jobs of ill repute. I shall continue to learn what I may.
Since there does appear to be a connection to the docks, I have taken the liberty of procuring for you a list of all ships departing between 28 August and 1 September. Perhaps the information may be helpful.
Your request to exhume Mr D—’s body is unusual in the extreme, sir. The hiring of grave robbers is a simple enough matter, and I have the proper individuals already in mind. However, the D—crypt at the estate is not a humble earthen tomb. It will be a matter of some delicacy to perform the task without drawing notice. As you have already assured me that the cost is no object, I shall proceed with your directions. I shall have the preparations made within a few weeks, and shall send word when all is in readiness.
R. B.
Richard released a shaking sigh and folded the letter. He turned next to the long list of ship names with departure times and destinations. The list itself was two full pages of closely written print, front and back. Richard examined it until he felt his eyes wandering blindly over the latter entries. All were meaningless to him without some further information, but Broderick had hit upon a capital idea in procuring the list. It might yet be of some use.
Chapter seven
Pemberley
Richard’sreturntoPemberleyrevealed the whole of the estate in an uproar. It was still mid-morning when his coach rolled to the door, to be met and attended only by the men from the stables. The outer steps to the house itself remained curiously unguarded but for the groundskeeper, who only passed by in the course of his other duties. The door to the great house was opened to him before he was obliged to knock like a beggar at an hostel, but only just.
In bewilderment Richard handed off his gloves and hat to the lone footman present, searching about for the others all the while. None of the usual staff were at their assigned posts! Three of the upstairs maids hurried by him with harassed pink cheeks and hardly a deferential glance, clearly set about some task of great import. He stared in amazement, wondering where the devil Mrs Reynolds or Hodges could be. Was it not typical for one of them, at least, to greet him upon his arrival? And where was Georgiana?
“Do you wish to remove your coat, Colonel?” the footman reminded him politely.
“What?” He spun to face the young man. “Yes, my coat, of course. Where is your mistress? What is happening here?”
The footman permitted himself a brief expression of chagrin—which, Richard noted, would never have been tolerated under Darcy’s authority. “The lady desired that some improvements be made to the house, sir.”
“I presume you do not refer to Miss Darcy.”
“No, sir,” the footman kept his eyes straight forward, but he swallowed unhappily.
“I see. Where might I find your mistress?”
“She has not stirred from her apartment these four or five days, sir.”
“Good heavens! She is not ill?”
“No, sir,” was the clipped response.
Richard squinted in irritation, divining that some curiosity must be at work within the halls of Pemberley. “I think I must speak with Mrs Reynolds. Please send word for her to meet me in the library.”
“I am afraid, sir….”
“Afraid of what? Speak up, man!”
