Page 142 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Are you saying…” The duke’s face went slack, and Richard guided him back to his chair.

“Miss Baudains did say she had paid some men to kill Lord and Lady Rowe and their baby.” Richard glared at Darcy.

“Yes, but Richard. Remember, she had no proof aside from a baby blanket, which we did not see. How is a blanket proof of a death?”

“Darcy, you should sit, as well.”

“But do you not see?”

“I do see, Darcy. And we have no proof. You must calm yourself.” Richard spoke with authority, so Darcy ceased speaking but was anything but calm.

Elizabeth was that missing baby. He was almost sure of it. He understood Richard did not wish to give the duke false hope, but the pieces all fit together. Elizabeth’s parents had died not long before her first birthday, nineteen years ago. Elizabeth would be twenty next month.

“When was your granddaughter’s birthday?”

“Darcy, no⁠—”

“February 27, 1792. I did not celebrate it that first year, but I have every year since. I do not like to think too much of the day my family died, but I always remember them on Elizabeth’s birthday. Next month would have been her twentieth birthday. I imagine she would have grown into a fine young woman, like her mother.”

Darcy nodded, smiling.

Richard shook his head, exasperated.

Then Darcy remembered he had one more item of significance in his pocket and pulled out the miniature. He held it tightly in his hand. Richard was trying to protect the elderly man from additional heartache, so Darcy took a quick glance at it to confirm it matched the painting on the wall and then put it back in his pocket. He would ask one more question first.

“Your Grace, do you have any records or letters here that could confirm Lady Rowe’s family name and her father’s estate?”

“Let me think…perhaps. Oh, in my wife’s correspondence there should be something. And I have some documents from my son’s solicitor. Aside from a quick perusal when I received them, they have been put away these many years.”

The duke crossed the room and took a book from a shelf. He brought it back to the table and opened it to reveal a cutaway space holding documents. Pushing it toward the younger men, he allowed them to seek what they wished to find. Having others show so much interest in his son cheered him, but it was clear he had not caught on to Darcy’s supposition about Elizabeth.

Richard removed the documents from the book and handed half to Darcy. The duke happily spoke about his wife and son while they searched the papers.

Darcy was not listening, instead thinking about Mr. Bennet’s peculiar insistence that Elizabeth not marry before her twenty-first birthday, despite allowing his daughters to wed earlier. Mr. Bennet likely knew who his sister had married. Why would he keep this from Elizabeth? Why make her think she was nothing in society? Did he not understand the torment Elizabeth had experienced? Darcy had told Mr. Bennet she thought herself illegitimate, and he had not corrected him or revealed the truth to Elizabeth. Her uncle had been more cruel than he could have imagined.

Darcy barely restrained a gasp when he found a marriage settlement between Oliver Rowe of Morton Hall in Lancashire and Susannah Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.

He silently passed the page to Richard, who looked at it and then nodded to him. That felt like permission to tell the duke all, but he was not ready.

“Your Grace, I wonder if I might have a private word with my cousin for a moment. May we speak in the passageway?”

“No need, young men. You may speak here. I must inform my housekeeper we will have two guests tonight. I hope you will stay to dine and remain in my home for at least a night or two?” He stood to go, and Darcy and Richard stood and bowed.

“We would be honored. Thank you, Your Grace.” With Richard’s words, the duke left them alone in his study, closing the door.

“Why did you not tell him, Darcy?”

“Why do you suppose Elizabeth knows nothing of her grandfather?”

Richard considered his question. “Perhaps Mr. Bennet is unaware.”

“I think not. I have a feeling he knows exactly who he has raised all these years. He has protected her better than his own daughters. It would explain why she has her own footman and maid when his four daughters share a maid between them and have no footman to walk with them.”

He was pacing now, more energetic than he had been in days.

“They live in the country, Darcy. It is different in London.”

“She lives with a tradesman in London, though, and her cousins have been raised as the daughters of a gentleman.”