The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Read online

  “I commend Miss Brereton’s judgment,” Sir Edward said. “What need have I to ensconce myself in grandeur? It is meet that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, our honored guests from the majestic Peaks, occupy the apartment. I assure you, I am perfectly content with the present arrangements.”

  Miss Denham sniffed and retreated to her inferior chamber, too out of sorts to spare any of them another syllable. Her haughty exit was, unfortunately, marred by a huge crack of thunder that startled her into a less-than-dignified jump as she passed through the doorway. She gripped the frame to steady herself. After a moment, without another glance at the others, she continued into the room and closed the door forcefully.

  “Well.” Sir Edward cleared his throat. “It has been rather a long day for us all. Without further ado, I shall withdraw to my own chamber, wherein I hope to be visited by slumber, if the storm will but abate—unless, Miss Brereton, there is any service I can perform on your behalf before I retire?”

  “Thank you, Sir Edward, but I believe all is well in hand—at least, as much as is possible given the circumstances.”

  “Yes—we shall resume our search for Lady Denham upon the morn. In fact, I intend to rise early so that I may get right to it.”

  “What is it that you propose to do?” Darcy enquired, his tone wary. Elizabeth herself was suddenly possessed by dreadful visions of the baronet running amuck through the house.

  “I—well … I am not altogether certain. Perhaps something will come to me during the night.” He offered a cavalier bow. “For now, I bid you all good eve.”

  As he strode down the corridor, Miss Brereton and Miss Heywood took leave of the Darcys as well.

  “I do not think I shall sleep a minute all night,” Miss Brereton said. “Please come to me with any news—no matter how late the hour.”

  “I shall,” Elizabeth promised.

  “Do you think we will indeed find Lady Denham in the morning?” Charlotte asked Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth wished she had an answer to that. “I think once the storm ends and the sun rises, we will all gain new perspective.”

  “In the meantime,” Sidney said, “try to get some rest. Good night, Miss Heywood.”

  The two girls retired to their respective rooms; Sidney lingered.

  “Have you a plan for tomorrow?” he asked Darcy.

  “Not yet,” Darcy replied. “I need to contemplate the day’s events in the quiet of my own chamber and consider what we have learned so far.”

  “Do keep me apprised of your thoughts on the matter, and call upon me with any need that arises. I assure you of my discretion and dependability. Although I no longer reside in Sanditon, and therefore do not see Lady Denham often, I have known her as long as I can remember, and am deeply concerned for her.”

  Darcy acknowledged him with appreciation. “In turn,” he added, “I assure you that although Mrs. Darcy and I have known Lady Denham for only a brief time, we, too, are genuinely concerned for her welfare, and will work toward her discovery with as much diligence as we would exert on behalf of our oldest acquaintance.”

  Sidney headed to his own chamber. Elizabeth was relieved to have Darcy to herself at last, for she longed to freely discuss the day’s events with him. They spoke little until they reached the privacy of Archibald Hollis’s apartment. There, they found loaned nightclothes laid out for them.

  “I was hoping to find my own suit also waiting for me here,” Darcy admitted, “although I knew the wish was unreasonable.”

  “Now that dinner is over, the servants can give proper attention to the gentlemen’s clothing. I am sure it will be ready in the morning,” Elizabeth replied. “Besides, I am growing used to seeing you in Mr. Hollis’s attire.”

  “I much prefer my own. I do not feel quite myself in these garments.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze drifted around Archibald’s bedchamber, taking in the room’s appointments—the wardrobe, four-poster bed, side tables, chairs, looking glass, draperies, paneling. She attempted to form an impression of the gentleman who had once occupied these quarters as his own. However, could any such assessment be accurate? How many of these furnishings reflected Archibald’s taste, and how many had he inherited from previous generations? The only piece she knew with certainty to be his choice was the chamber horse, and she did not want to pass judgment on him solely based on his ownership of that odd contraption.

  Her lips formed a half-smile. To hear Mrs. Riley talk, they might be visited by the man himself tonight.

  Darcy caught her expression and regarded her with curiosity.

  “If the housekeeper is to be believed, Archibald Hollis might decide to visit his former apartment before evening’s end. I tell you, I hardly knew what to say when she started talking about the former masters of Sanditon House roaming its rooms.”

  “And you said she was serious?”

  “Quite! She spoke of them as matter-of-factly as she did the dinner arrangements.”

  Lightning flashed, illuminating a window so splattered with raindrops that one could not see clearly through the glass. “I think we have more to fear from the storm than from any lingering spiritual presence within these walls,” he said.

  “At least the ghosts can be tamed with chocolate. I would welcome Mr. Hollis’s appearance if he brought news of Lady Denham’s whereabouts.” Thunder boomed, dashing any hope she harbored about the storm blowing itself out anytime soon.

  “No one else is likely to appear with such tidings in this weather.” Darcy removed his cravat, folded the long strip of cloth in half, and draped it over the back of a chair. “Except, perhaps, Ivy Woodcock, if we are to give Sir Edward’s words any credence—which I do not.”

  “I wondered what opinion you had formed of the baronet.”

  “That he reads too much—an indictment I never thought I would make against any gentleman, but he seems to recite rather than comprehend what he reads.”

  “You are kind in your criticism. I would describe his discourse as regurgitation—wholesome passages of prose and poetry returned all jumbled together in half-digested, scarcely recognizable form.”

  “Thank you for that lovely image to cap off our evening.”

  She laughed. “Perhaps prolonged exposure to the Parker sisters is influencing my own discourse, though motherhood has a way of making one less squeamish about such subjects in general. I assure you, however, I would never express so indelicate a comparison in polite company.”

  His brow rose in mock indignation. “So what does that make me?”

  “The man who has seen me at my worst, and loves me despite it?”

  “And who shall continue to do so always, though if we could confine talk of regurgitation to the sickroom, I would rather engage in more pleasant topics of conversation with you.” He sighed. “Even those, however, will have to wait until I hear your thoughts on the more urgent matters at hand.”

  “As regards our discussion of Sir Edward, I will simply say thank goodness he did not attempt to assert authority over this investigation, which, as Lady Denham’s nephew and—as Miss Denham is quick to remind everyone—a gentleman of rank, he could by rights have done.”

  “Agreed. Nothing would come of an enquiry under his direction, if indeed it ever even got under way. We would still be sitting in the dining room talking about Ivy Woodcock, or some other nonsense that has nothing to do with the present crisis.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the chamber horse once more, her mind recalling the slip of paper little Mary had found wedged within its coils. For a woman no one had seen in nearly a hundred years, Ivy Woodcock’s presence in Sanditon certainly remained strong—even if only in the number of times her name had come up in the past four-and-twenty hours.

  She rose and crossed to the chamber horse. Darcy regarded her curiously.

  “Do you suddenly fancy a trot?”

  “Not at this hour. And not on a mechanical horse.” Another boom of thunder punctuated her reply. “However, if the rain continues to confi
ne us in Sanditon House through tomorrow, I might reconsider getting better acquainted with old Tilly here.”

  Elizabeth reached for the drawer pull above the footrest. “When little Mary rode the chamber horse yesterday,” she continued, “her movements loosened a page of paper that had been caught in the seat coils. ‘Ivy’ was written on it multiple times, and ‘woodcock’ once, along with simple illustrations of ivy vines and birds. There were roses on it as well. I thought little of it at the time, taking it to be a page from a child’s sketchbook, but now that we know there was a woman by that name, and have heard her story, I want to take another look at it.” She opened the drawer, its runners scraping the cabinet floor.

  It was empty.

  She stared into the bare drawer. She and Mary had put the paper into the drawer—had they not?

  “Well, do not keep me in suspense,” Darcy said. “Bring it over here and let us examine it together.”

  “I cannot.” She did not turn as she spoke; rather, she continued gazing into the empty drawer as if doing so could make the page materialize. “It is gone.”

  She pulled the drawer all the way out, felt inside the cavity with her hand, stooped to look within. There was no sign of the page ever having been in there—no crumpled wad or even a torn scrap from having been caught between the drawer and its housing.

  “Are you certain you put it in the drawer?”

  “Yes.” As soon as she said the word, however, doubt crept into her mind. Had she misremembered?

  “Perhaps Mary moved it afterward?” Darcy offered. “Or took it with her?”

  “She could not have taken it home with her—someone would have noticed her possession of it during our visit with Lady Denham, or during the walk home. As for moving it, I do not think she had an opportunity, as we departed this room immediately after putting it in the drawer.”

  Elizabeth knew from experience, however, that children could move quickly when they wanted to. She went to one side of the chamber horse, slipping her hand through each slit in the leather to feel around the coils. Darcy came forward and examined the other side.

  Each time her hand brushed the internal wooden boards separating the layers of coils, Elizabeth felt dust and a couple of small, hard, dry objects; she suspected the latter were dead flies but decided she would rather not contemplate their nature too closely. What she did not feel, was anything resembling paper.

  “It is not on this side,” Darcy said.

  She released a frustrated sigh. “Nor this one.”

  “If you are sure that you put it in the drawer, then—”

  “Someone else has taken an interest in it,” she finished. “But whom? The paper appeared to have been caught in the coils a long time. I would venture that no one even knew of its existence before Mary discovered it.”

  “Was anyone else with you while she rode the horse?”

  “Miss Brereton initially assisted her. However, Mrs. Parker and Miss Heywood were in the next room, and summoned her with a question about one of the sketches on the wall. She left to attend them and I stayed behind with Mary, so the two of us were alone when she found the paper and put it in the drawer.”

  “Miss Brereton could have returned any time between then and now, and discovered it for herself. Do you know whether she ever takes exercise on the chamber horse?”

  “She said she does not, nor does Lady Denham. The dowager claims the horse is good as new, so my impression is that it sees little use at all. From the creaking of the springs when Mary rode, I would not be at all surprised to learn it was Mr. Hollis himself who last used it. So it is highly unlikely that the paper was discovered by anyone in the course of simple exercise. Whoever removed it either came here looking for it, or entered for another purpose and took advantage of the opportunity to rifle Archibald Hollis’s belongings. Although I know that Miss Brereton did return to this room earlier today, to inspect the clothing brought down from the attics before it was loaned to you and the other gentlemen, with that matter to occupy her, I doubt the chamber horse would have drawn her attention. Why should it today, when it never has before?”

  Darcy acknowledged her point with a nod. “Well, then—that merely leaves as suspects all the servants and every gentleman who borrowed Mr. Hollis’s attire. Were the ladies left to roam about the house while the gentlemen were searching the grounds? If so, we can add them to the list, as well.”

  A sudden bang on the window caused them both to jump. Elizabeth’s gaze flew to the glass. The wind had torn a large twig off one of the trees and driven it against the pane. The force held it to the glass another half-minute before subsiding enough to let it fall.

  Elizabeth released breath she had not realized she was holding. “Perhaps we ought to include Ivy Woodcock on the list.”

  “You have been listening to Mrs. Riley too much.”

  “I was jesting.” She did not truly believe Ivy’s spirit haunted Sanditon, this night or any other. Her heart, however, yet raced from the start the flying twig had given her. “We have ample cause for anxiety without anything supernatural contributing to it. I doubt any of us will find much sleep tonight.”

  Another bang sounded—this one louder, from the chamber door.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Another series of raps sounded. “Mr. Darcy!”

  It was a woman’s voice, its owner not immediately identifiable through the heavy wooden door and the noise of the storm outside. Darcy crossed quickly to the door, Elizabeth right behind him.

  He opened it to reveal a darkened hallway, lit only by the glow of the candle being held by an utterly distraught Diana Parker.

  “Susan is missing.”

  Seventeen

  “I hate to employ others, when I am equal to act myself—and my conscience told me that this was an occasion which called for me.”

  —Diana Parker, Sanditon

  Though Diana strode into the apartment with as much force and purpose as ever, the hand in which she held her candle trembled. Fearing Miss Parker might upset the taper and set fire to the carpet, Elizabeth took it from her and placed it on a table near the door as Darcy attempted to usher her toward a chair.

  “Please, sit down,” he said calmly.

  “Sit down? My sister has disappeared! I cannot possibly sit down. We must find her without delay!”

  “Of course we must,” Darcy said. “However, we can search in a more productive manner if first you tell us how she came to be missing.”

  “I have not the faintest idea! As you surely recall, I left Susan in our bedchamber while I went to the stillroom to prepare a sedative for her. Assembling it was a frustrating business—though Lady Denham makes a great point of eschewing elixirs, Mrs. Riley ought to keep the house better stocked with basic medicinal components—she lacked at least half the ingredients I needed. Fortunately, I knew of substitutions that could be made. When I returned to the bedchamber, Susan had already changed into one of the nightdresses that had been laid out for us—I think they must belong to Miss Brereton—at least, the one Susan donned. My sister eats so little, you know, that she is about the same size as the younger miss. She was grateful that I had managed to prepare the draught—she anticipated difficulty in falling asleep because at dinner she had bit down incautiously on her gum, which is still tender from her tooth extraction. ‘My poor sister!’ I exclaimed. ‘Why did you not tell me your gum is agitated? I would have made up a poultice as well.’ I left the sedative on the night table and then went back downstairs to prepare the poultice. Mrs. Riley offered to make it up, but I insisted on doing it myself—the kitchen and offices are all still at sixes and sevens following the dinner party, so who knows whether any of the staff could be trusted to give the task proper attention? They certainly do not have my experience in such matters. Even so, the process took far longer than it ought to have, and by the time I returned upstairs, I wondered whether I would find Susan asleep without the poultice and all my efforts in vain. When I entered our chamber, however, I did not find he
r at all.”

  Darcy sorted through the barrage of detail to isolate the essentials. “Is the room still in order?”

  “The bedclothes on one side of the bed are rumpled. All else looks as it did when I left her. The phial containing the sedative is still full.”

  “Might she have grown impatient and gone downstairs in search of you?” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Susan would not wander around in the dark by herself. She knew I would return as soon as possible.”

  “Have you spoken to any of the others since we all parted?” Darcy asked.

  She shook her head. “I came to you immediately. But of course we must rouse them without delay!” She picked up the candle and opened the door. “We must comb every inch of the house!”

  “Do not succumb to panic yet. Let us start by determining whether anyone heard her leave your chamber,” Darcy said. “Perhaps she is merely in one of the other ladies’ rooms, having a late conversation.”

  Diana, however, was already striding down the hall.

  “Do you truly believe that is where we are likely to find Susan Parker?” Elizabeth asked Darcy as they hastily seized candles of their own and followed her. “In a quiet tête-à-tête with Miss Denham?”

  Despite the calm assurance he had tried to offer Diana Parker, Darcy was uneasy. An absent elderly dowager was one matter; an additional missing middle-aged spinster, unrelated to her, transformed the situation disturbingly.