The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Page 15

“That is where I hope to find her,” he said at last.

  In the short amount of time it took Elizabeth and Darcy to catch up with Diana, she had collected Thomas and Sidney Parker in the corridor outside the sisters’ bedchamber. Like Darcy, they had removed their coats and neckcloths but were otherwise still dressed. Arthur, whom Diana had also wakened, emerged a couple minutes later from his chamber in a nightshirt, dressing gown, and nightcap, neither the storm nor anxiety over Lady Denham’s disappearance apparently having interfered with his ability to rest.

  “Now, what is this about Susan?” Arthur asked, blinking sleep from his eyes.

  “I told you, she is missing!” Diana released a sound of exasperation. “Did you not hear me say so?

  “Spare him a little mercy, Diana,” Sidney said. “He looks as if you woke him from a sound slumber.”

  “She did!” Arthur replied defensively. “I had just fallen asleep. One cannot expect a man to be in full possession of his faculties the instant he wakes up. The brain needs time to rekindle.”

  Diana rolled her eyes.

  “Well, it does,” Arthur said. “And you were pounding on the door as you said it.”

  “We are wasting precious time,” Diana replied. “Susan is missing. Unless you know where she might be, we must rouse the others.”

  “If your pounding has not already?”

  Ignoring Arthur’s question, she turned toward Miss Brereton’s chamber. Before she reached it, the door opened. Clara, too, was dressed for bed, though did not appear to have been sleeping. A dressing robe covered her nightgown, and she had not yet donned a nightcap. An expression of anxiety clouded her face.

  “Miss Brereton, summon the servants!” Diana said. “We must search the house for my sister—she has disappeared.”

  Clara nodded. “I could not help overhearing.”

  Indeed, Diana spoke at such a volume that the remaining guests emerged from their chambers one by one, in various states of dress, to assemble in the corridor. Sir Edward strode up the hall; still fully attired, he also wore an expression of great concern.

  “Miss Parker—missing!” His words, delivered more as a statement than a question, were punctuated by a crack of thunder that made Arthur jump. “I wonder where she could have gone? She must be somewhere in the house—no one could leave here without becoming wet through. Utterly wet through! No one!”

  Josiah Hollis appeared last, grumbling about “a man’s right to peace and quiet in his own family home.” Nobody had seen Susan since the elder Miss Parker had retired to her room.

  “I am sure she is around here somewhere.” Miss Denham waved her hand dismissively before crossing both arms in front of herself in a stance that radiated boredom. Though not indecently exposed, she appeared in a greater condition of dishabille than the other ladies. Where the hair of the misses Brereton and Heywood was gathered in long braids, Esther’s dark tresses hung loose, softening the disdainful expression that so often dominated her countenance. Also unlike Clara and Charlotte, whose nightgowns were completely covered by their robes, Esther’s loosely tied wrap gave the impression of having been hastily donned. “No doubt Miss Parker will return momentarily, and all of us disturbed for naught.”

  “I would be grateful for the false alarm if it means we find her well,” said Mr. Granville. Like most of the other gentlemen, he had shed his cravat, but was otherwise still attired in his full eighteenth-century finery.

  “Oh—I, too—of course!” Miss Denham added quickly, her tone warmer. She smiled at Mr. Granville as she pushed back a lock of hair that had been perfectly content where it was. The motion resulted in her robe slipping slightly off one shoulder. “I only meant to reassure Miss Diana that this whole incident will be resolved happily.”

  Mrs. Riley was summoned, then dispatched to direct the rest of the staff in their second search of the house that night. Diana was all nervous energy as she watched the housekeeper depart. She shifted from one foot to the other, then commenced full-fledged pacing. “The servants could not even locate their own mistress earlier tonight,” she said. “How can we trust them to do a thorough exploration for Susan?”

  “They know the house better than we do,” Darcy replied.

  “True as that might be, I know my sister better than they do, and I cannot stand here idle while Susan is missing.” Diana started down the corridor.

  “Where are you going?” Thomas Parker asked.

  “Where do you think, Tom?” she replied without turning around. “I am going to look for Susan.”

  Sir Edward struck his hand to his breast.

  She walks in beauty, like the night

  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

  And all that’s best of dark and bright—

  A boom of thunder cut short his oration. So much for cloudless climes.

  This was exactly what Darcy had hoped to avoid—everyone running off half-cocked, with the cause of the two ladies’ disappearances yet unknown. What if the incidents were related? Yet preventing Diana Parker from embarking on a course she had settled upon seemed futile. “At least allow someone to accompany you,” he said to her.

  “A companion would only slow me down.”

  “That might not be a bad idea,” Thomas said under his breath. Then he called after her, “Take Arthur with you.”

  Arthur looked as if Thomas had suggested he capture a running stag. “Me?”

  Diana, either unaware or unmindful of her eldest brother’s directive, continued striding down the corridor.

  “One of our sisters is already missing—we cannot risk losing the other.”

  “Come, now, Tom,” Sidney said. “Do you not think such panic premature? I doubt some general threat lurks in the corridors. More likely, Susan has taken some notion into her head and is acting upon it. Given both our sisters’ propensity for self-doctoring, I would not be at all surprised to discover her collecting rainwater from the cistern for one of their concoctions, or before a large window attempting some newfangled remedy that can be performed only by the illumination of a lightning bolt in a summer storm.”

  “It is precisely such possibilities that require us to protect our sisters from themselves.” Thomas cast an imperative look at their youngest brother.

  Arthur heaved a reluctant sigh and set out in pursuit of the stag.

  The sigh Sir Edward issued as he turned his gaze to Clara Brereton was still more dramatic, augmented by a sweeping bow. “Miss Brereton, if you, too, wish to take part in the search for Miss Parker, it would be my honor to serve as your escort and protector through the darkened house.”

  Clara flushed and appeared at a loss for a reply. Elizabeth felt her discomfort. Regardless of whether Miss Brereton welcomed the baronet’s advances, his suggestion put her in an awkward position.

  “That is a most gallant offer,” Elizabeth interjected, “but if we are undertaking our own search of the house, should you not escort your sister?”

  Now it was Sir Edward’s turn to appear embarrassed. “I meant for the three of us to search together, of course.”

  Miss Denham’s expression froze in obvious dislike of her brother’s proposal. “We can search more quickly if we divide into pairs rather than threes,” she said. “And, Edward, you and I should separate. After all”—she turned to the others—“we practically grew up in this house. We know it intimately, and so should partner with others less familiar.” She pushed back the same lock of hair she had before, resulting in the same slippage of her robe. “Perhaps Mr. Granville could accompany me.”

  Mr. Granville appeared surprised by the suggestion, but responded graciously. “If that is your wish, it would be my privilege.”

  “Miss Denham, would you like help changing back into your gown?” Elizabeth asked.

  “What? Oh!” She laughed. “My thoughts were so much upon Miss Parker that I had forgotten my state of dress. No—I thank you, but I can manage.” With a look at Mr. Granville and a promise that she would return in but a momen
t, she reentered her room.

  “Miss Brereton,” the baronet prompted, “I stand ready to escort you at your command.”

  “You are most kind, sir,” Miss Brereton replied, “but I have been thinking—I also know the house well, so perhaps you and I ought to separate, too.”

  “I would not have you go alone!”

  “Nor I,” Darcy said. “In fact, I do not think any of the ladies ought to be wandering about by themselves.”

  “I did not intend to search alone. Mr. Parker, I can see that you grow more anxious for Susan with each passing minute. Shall we go at once?”

  Thomas Parker seized upon Miss Brereton’s offer. “I feel a great need to be doing something,” he confessed.

  “Before everybody scatters,” Darcy said, “let us agree to reconvene in one hour’s time, if Miss Parker is not discovered sooner.”

  “Where?” Mr. Parker asked. “Here?”

  The corridor was not an ideal location for a conference, should an unsuccessful search prove one necessary.

  “The morning room is behind that door.” Miss Brereton nodded toward a room near the top of the staircase.

  Darcy shook his head. “Miss Diana and Arthur Parker have already left us, and might not know where the morning room is. Let us meet in the portrait room, where we gathered before dinner. Apprise your siblings if you see them.”

  “I shall,” Mr. Parker said.

  “We will also inform Mrs. Riley that we are looking for Susan,” Miss Brereton added. The pair headed off in the direction Diana had taken.

  Sir Edward at last broke his cavalier stance. “I, too, will start my quest,” he said. “Miss Heywood, if you intend to join the search, I volunteer myself as your companion.”

  “Should not someone remain here, in case Miss Parker returns by herself?” Charlotte asked.

  “I would as soon see everybody unfamiliar with the house return to their own rooms,” Darcy said. “There is no sense in risking someone else becoming lost or stumbling in the dark.”

  “I, for one, have no intention of wandering about these passages at midnight,” Josiah Hollis declared. “If you ask me, we are more likely to come upon Uncle Archibald or Ivy Woodcock than Miss Parker. I am going back to my bed.”

  He lurched down the corridor, the limp from his lumbago more pronounced than it had been earlier. Darcy wondered whether it were an intentional exaggeration.

  While Sir Edward lauded Charlotte’s wisdom in staying behind, offering examples from half a dozen gothic novels to illustrate the perils of young ladies exploring large old mansions after dark, Mr. Granville stepped closer to the Darcys and Sidney Parker.

  “My chamber adjoins Josiah Hollis’s. There is an interior door through which I can hear him move about.” Mr. Granville spoke softly, his statement unheard by the baronet and Charlotte, but accompanied by a meaningful look at the others. “If you like, rather than search with Miss Denham, I could return to my room.”

  Darcy understood the unspoken half of his offer: and monitor whether Hollis stays where he claims he will. Darcy nodded. “I would appreciate that.”

  Elizabeth doubted Esther Denham would.

  “How will you explain the change of plans to Miss Denham without her perceiving it as a slight?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I have not worked that out yet,” Mr. Granville said. “I do not think I can suddenly claim indisposition.” He turned to Sidney. “I scarcely know the lady. Have you any suggestions?”

  Sidney thought a moment. “Allow me to bear the burden of blame,” he finally said. “Leave with me now, before she emerges from her room. We will commence a search of our own. Then as soon as both Denhams clear this corridor, you can return to your chamber. Mrs. Darcy, if you would, kindly inform Miss Denham that I grew impatient to seek my sister—which is true—and that I insisted Mr. Granville come with me—also true.”

  “And convey my regret at being deprived of the opportunity to accompany her tonight,” Mr. Granville added, “along with my earnest anticipation of enjoying her company sometime tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth agreed to the scheme, but Darcy frowned. “This feels disingenuous.”

  “I assure you, on my part, it is not,” Mr. Granville said.

  “Nor on mine,” Sidney added. “I am indeed wanting to have a look about the house myself. Despite my belief that Susan is perfectly fine, I will not be able to rest tonight until she is discovered.”

  Elizabeth shared Darcy’s abhorrence of deception in any form, but pronounced her own conscience clear in this matter. The excuse and its effect on Miss Denham would be more an instance of disappointed hopes than deceit, and as she found Miss Denham a bit duplicitous in her own dealings with people—charming toward individuals of use to her, dismissive (or altogether disdainful) of those who were not—she had little doubt that the woman’s interest in seeking Susan Parker was motivated by the opportunity to spend time with Percy Granville rather than deep concern for Miss Parker’s whereabouts.

  “Consider, too, Darcy,” Elizabeth said, “that with Mr. Granville otherwise occupied, if Miss Denham remains inclined to search for Miss Parker, her brother can escort her—a more proper arrangement. And Sir Edward will delight in being of use.” She glanced at the baronet, still engaged in rambling monologue directed at a very patient Miss Heywood. “He does seem rather keen on escorting somebody this evening.”

  Sidney and Mr. Granville made good their escape, disappearing round the corner just as Miss Denham emerged from her chamber. She glanced about, her countenance and mien rapidly transforming from amiability to pique. Her eyes narrowed as she addressed the Darcys. “Where is Mr. Granville?”

  Elizabeth delivered the agreed-upon excuse. Before she could also tender Mr. Granville’s regrets, Miss Denham cut her off.

  “What need of Mr. Granville has Sidney Parker? Mr. Granville was engaged to escort me.”

  “Mr. Granville was exceedingly reluctant to alter the arrangement and sacrifice his pleasure in your company,” Elizabeth assured her. “In fact, I rather imagine he would like to dine beside you tomorrow, if we are all still detained here at dinnertime.” She hoped the gentleman in question would not mind this little augmentation to the message she had been entrusted to deliver. While Mr. Granville had not explicitly stated any such desire, if they all were to work together to find the two missing ladies, and if the weather continued to confine them all at Sanditon House for an indeterminate amount of time, keeping everyone in an agreeable temper, including Miss Denham, served the greater good.

  The suggestion softened but did not obviate Miss Denham’s vexation. “And what am I to do in the meantime? Search for Miss Parker by myself?”

  “Your brother is still here and able to escort you.”

  “My brother?” She cast a derisive glance at the baronet and Charlotte. “I think not. He can accompany Miss Heywood if he likes. It matters little.” She turned her gaze back to Elizabeth; a lesser woman might have withered under it. “If Sidney Parker required Mr. Granville’s assistance so badly, his friend must be such a talented searcher that the rest of us need not bother. I am retiring for the night.”

  For the second time that evening, Miss Denham donned her mantle of injured pride, swept through her doorway, and shut the door with resounding force.

  The sound startled Sir Edward, who had been too engaged in his own discourse to attend his sister’s. “Whatever was that about?” he asked.

  “Miss Denham has elected not to participate in the search for Susan Parker after all,” Elizabeth said.

  “Oh? Well—I suppose I ought to be getting on with mine,” Sir Edward said.

  With a final invitation to Miss Heywood—politely declined—he headed off. Miss Heywood withdrew to her own chamber, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy alone in the corridor.

  “What now?” Elizabeth asked. “Do we join the others in searching for Susan Parker? Find Mr. Granville and tell him the coast is clear to return to his chamber?”

  “No,” Darcy re
plied. “We are going to Lady Denham’s apartment—by way of the study—to ensure no one is using the search for Miss Parker as an opportunity to search for something else entirely.”

  Eighteen

  To close her eyes in sleep that night, she felt must be entirely out of the question. With a curiosity so justly awakened, and feelings in every way so agitated, repose must be absolutely impossible.

  —Northanger Abbey

  Charlotte stared at her chamber walls.

  She had volunteered to stay behind out of the belief that she could be more useful to Susan by attending to whatever Miss Parker might need if she returned on her own, than by wandering around the house looking for her—particularly with Sir Edward as her guide. She still believed that, but regretted not having considered how she would occupy her time while waiting. At the moment she did not feel of use to anybody, including herself.

  The bedroom was a fine chamber, certainly the finest in which she had ever slept. Layers of fabric swathed the canopied bed, and elaborate carvings adorned the solid old furniture. But the quarters offered little in the way of diversion. Hastily prepared along with so many other rooms for the unexpected guests, the chamber had been supplied with essentials but not amenities—no books or magazines, no writing paper or drawing pencils, no means of activity, let alone amusement. She would have been grateful for an outdated issue of The Spectator or Ackermann’s Repository, or even old Mr. Hollis’s chamber horse. Heavens, she would have been grateful for a needle and the household mending.

  Charlotte was not a young lady who required constant stimulation to ward away boredom. Under normal circumstances, she welcomed quiet moments and opportunities for reflection. These, however, were not normal circumstances, and she wanted distraction from the thoughts tumbling through her mind. As if Lady Denham’s continued absence were not disturbing enough, Susan Parker’s disappearance added to her apprehensive musings. Charlotte believed Susan would be found somewhere in the house; it was merely a matter of where and the motive that had led her there. She thought the possibility Mr. Darcy had presented—that Miss Parker had gone down to the stillroom in quest of an additional remedy—the most probable scenario. However, until Miss Parker was discovered, Charlotte could not be easy, nor banish from her thoughts the worry that Susan, still weak from yesterday’s leeching, had become disoriented or fainted before reaching her destination.