Page 33 of Mr. Darcy’s Victorious Bride

"Will you still testify?"

"Madame, I will walk to London barefoot if I must." Mrs. Darter's voice rose. "That monster burned that little boy's mother alive. He put a brand on you. He shot his own patroness. And now his man has ruined my silk. My Leo mucks out your husband's stables beside that child every day. Do they think I will be frightened off? I am a modiste. I know when a seam has been let out to hide something. Lord Braithwaite's defense is all let-out seams!"

Evie gave a watery hiccup that was almost a laugh.

Elizabeth took Mrs. Darter's hand across the counter. It was cold, and it was not quite still. "Then you shall have a new stock of silk," she said. "The best in London. My husband will pay for every yard, and he will thank you for letting him."

"I do not take charity."

"It is not charity. It is a bribe! I intend to be the best-dressed witness in the House of Lords, and I cannot manage it without you."

Mrs. Darter stared at her. Then she snorted, a most unladylike sound, and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist.

The bell rang again.

"Lizzy! My dear Lizzy!" Mrs. Phillips sailed in with a letter in one hand and her bonnet strings flying. "I saw the Darcy carriage from my window and I said to Mr. Phillips, that is Lizzy, and she has come about the fever. Is not Lydia's fever the most shocking thing? Oh!" She saw the floor. "Oh, Mrs. Darter! Whatever has happened? Rats, I suppose?"

"Rats with a knife, madam," said Mrs. Darter.

Mrs. Phillips did not hear her. She was already waving the letter. "My sister Gardiner has written. Four pages. Four! I have never read such a dull letter in my life. The broth, the apothecary, the broth again. Lydia took a little barley water on Tuesday. Lydia took a little less on Wednesday." She lowered her voice to a whisper that carried to the street. "Between ourselves, Lizzy, I believe the child nearly died."

"We were all very frightened," Elizabeth said, and it was true.

"I have read it at three houses already. Mrs. Long wept." Mrs. Phillips pressed the letter to her bosom. "I must take it to the Lucases. Lady Lucas will want every word."

She sailed out again. The bell rang behind her.

Mrs. Darter looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked back. Neither of them said a thing about barley water.

"I will step outside a moment," Elizabeth said. "The air in here is full of silk."

"The Colonel is at the door," Mrs. Darter said. "Stay where he can see you."

Richard had gone round to the yard behind the shop, to look at the back door with the constable. Elizabeth could hear his voice through the passage, low and short. She stood on the step in the thin sunshine and breathed.

A gentleman was crossing the street from the inn.

He was of middle height, in a good black coat, plain and well brushed. He had a pleasant, forgettable face and gray gloves. He carried a small leather case under one arm. Nothing about him would make a person look twice.

He stopped at the foot of the step and bowed. "Mrs. Darcy. Forgive me. We have not been introduced, and I have no right to address you. My name is Graves. I have the honor to act for Lord Braithwaite."

Every hair on Elizabeth's arms rose. So this was the face. She had expected something worse. His plainness frightened her more. "You are a long way from Chancery Lane, Mr. Graves."

"I have business in the county." He glanced at the shop window, where the strips of silk showed pale through the glass. "A sad business, this. Meryton is not what it was. One hears of such things in town, but in a country village?" He shook his head. "I hope the good woman was insured."

"She was not."

"Then I am very sorry for her." He sounded sincere. Perhaps he was. "I rejoice, at least, that your sister's fever is quite gone. Your aunt speaks of nothing else. I heard her in the inn yard not a quarter hour since."

"You are very well informed, sir, for a man with no business in Hertfordshire."

"I have a great deal of business in Hertfordshire, madam. My client's affairs are extensive." He smiled. It was a pleasant smile. "And I hear there is a new foal at Netherfield. Nell, is it not? A spirited creature. I do hope she is kept close. Young things will wander."

The street went very quiet in Elizabeth's ears. Nell had been named yesterday, in a stable yard, by a boy of six.

How did he know the foal's name? Who had he paid to tell him? "Our foal bites, Mr. Graves," she said. "She has a particular dislike of strangers."

"Then she is wiser than most of her kind." He touched his hat. "My client asks to be remembered to you. He hopes you are sleeping well."