Cathy shivered. “I am not sure I want to know, but I do need to retrieve some of my things.”
All eight of them went together, and when they entered the parlor they had used the day before, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth immediately went to the bookshelf that led to the secret passage. The ashes had been disturbed, though the shifting of the bookshelf had obscured the footprints.
Elizabeth shuddered at the sight, and Mr. Darcy drew nearer. “I nearly told Tilney it was mad to all share together so informally, but I am relieved that you are safe,” he said.
She nodded her agreement, a blush heating her face as she thought of his room so near to hers, sharing a parlor. It wasnearly indecent, yet in such circumstances she could not lament the safety measure. Clearly it had been necessary.
“Take heart, Miss Bennet, surely this must be a sign that we are close to figuring out the identity of the murderer.”
“Between your clue and mine, there must be some connection.”
He chuckled. “Between your clever mind, Miss Morland’s determination to absolve Henry Tilney, and Miss Smith’s enthusiasm for being included, I have every faith in our success.”
“You have heeded my counsel, and I approve of your flattery entirely, sir,” she drawled. She felt something swell in her chest, as if his regard for her abilities had given her fresh hope that they would solve the murders and escape the castle.
The ladies were all gathering their belongings that they had not brought to their new quarters the night before, when Mrs. Clay came running through the open door of the parlor. “Thank God! I have been looking for you, Henry!”
Everyone in the room tensed. Mr. Tilney approached the woman with a look of concern, for she was in a state of high panic. “What has happened?”
Mrs. Clay’s face crumpled with despair. “Mrs. Younge was killed!”
Chapter Eleven
“What?”
“How?”
“Where?”
“When?”
They all began to question Mrs. Clay at once, though nobody askedwhy.
Mr. Tilney helped the agitated woman to a seat, and urged her to tell them everything she knew.
“She and I quarreled last evening; I daresay it was inevitable, between taking on the household responsibilities and quartering together.” Mrs. Clay slumped in a defeated posture on the chaise.
“We both once fancied ourselves in love with the general. That is why we acted as his spies, giving him so many secrets. When I found out that he was making her all the same promises he made me, I was never cross with her, only with him. But she was bitter, and made some remarks about my previous acquaintance with Sir Walter Elliot, another ponce of a man I regret setting my cap at. And then I said something about herand Mr. Wickham, and she told me to get out, so I did. I went and slept with the servants last night.”
“So she was alone all night?” Mr. Tilney cringed. “You ought not to have left her alone.”
“She only told me to do it! She is a woman grown, responsible for herself,” Mrs. Clay sniffed. She cast a sideward glance at Mr. Darcy. “She might have found someone to share with for her own safety, for she has too many enemies here.”
Mr. Darcy stiffened at her accusation. “I shared with Tilney last night, and I am sure I could not have snuck out without tripping over Sir Edward in the parlor!”
“Not to mention you are quite incapable of such a thing,” Elizabeth cried. “Besides, there is another who was far more vocal in their resentment toward her.”
Emma glared at her. “You mean my aunt.”
Mr. Tilney offered Mrs. Clay his handkerchief as she began to sniffle. “Where is she?”
“In her room,” Mrs. Clay said. “I can take you there, if you wish to see….”
“We ought to see if there are any clues,” Mr. Darcy said. “Perhaps you ladies ought to be spared the sight.”
“After five murders, I am not letting you men out of my sight,” Lady Allen said, fanning herself.
Only Emma went in with the gentlemen to see Mrs. Younge. “I have seen death before,” she said somberly. “Besides, nobody here has any authority to tell me not to. I have more faith in a woman’s perception, if we are to find any clues or hints at who has done this.”
