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

  “It is not that,” he said. “Truly—I just thought that whomever the person is who kidnapped her, does not deserve such a reward.”

  Charlotte thought she heard a muffled sound behind her, as of something small dropping to the floor, but when she turned round, saw nothing out of place. She hoped the noise had been merely an invention of her own overstimulated nerves, or even the Hollis ghost—just not the kidnapper lurking nearby, eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Sir Edward looked at the others with resignation. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I think you should retrieve the real watch,” Miss Brereton said.

  He nodded. “For you, Miss Brereton—and for Lady Denham—I will. In fact, I will depart this instant.”

  He approached Miss Brereton and put the substitute watch in her hand, closing his own hand over hers. “Just in case,” he said. Before he could make good his exit, however, Mrs. Riley entered the room.

  “There is a messenger here from Trafalgar House.”

  “Trafalgar House!” Thomas Parker exclaimed. “It must be an urgent matter, if Mary has sent a servant at two o’clock in the morning, let alone in this weather. By all means, show him in.”

  “He is soaking wet, sir. Perhaps you would rather meet him in the entry hall?”

  Mr. Parker immediately quit the room—and returned less than five minutes later in a state of great agitation.

  “I must leave,” he announced. “Our son’s cold has become much worse—Mary fears it is the pneumonia. She asks for Diana’s help—but Diana is not here!”

  “Shall I come with you?” Sidney asked.

  Mrs. Riley arrived with Mr. Parker’s coat, which he donned as he spoke. “No—I need you here to look after Miss Heywood and continue to search for Susan and Diana. I will take Arthur. All those evenings spent reading aloud from the Pharmacopœia must have taught him something. We will go on horseback, as I did earlier, rather than take the carriage—its wheels would become mired instantly.”

  Minutes later, Thomas and Arthur were gone.

  “Well,” Sir Edward said when the bustle of their departure settled, “I suppose I must be going, too—in pursuit of the watch. Unless, Miss Brereton, you would prefer me to stay and serve as your protector?”

  “We can see to Miss Brereton’s safety,” Mr. Granville said. “The watch carries higher priority for your attention—no one else can retrieve it.”

  Sir Edward looked very much as if he would rather not have so unique a commission—particularly one that required him to leave Miss Brereton in the company of a gentleman who, by all appearances, had become a rival suitor—or aspired to be. “I assure you, Miss Brereton, I shall return posthaste.” He bowed with a flourish and departed.

  Mr. Granville went to the wine decanter. “So,” he said, his back to the room as he unstoppered the decanter and poured a glass, “we are down to five. I must say, Parker, this is by far the most memorable soiree you have ever invited me to. It will be hard to top.”

  “Eight,” Charlotte said. “We are eight, with Miss Denham and the Darcys. Whatever could be keeping them?”

  “The way people are disappearing around here, do you truly want an answer to that?” Mr. Hollis said.

  No, she truly did not—at least, not from Josiah Hollis. She looked to Sidney, but he was completely lost in thought. And from his troubled countenance, those thoughts were not cheerful.

  Mr. Granville rejoined the group, leaving his glass behind and bringing the decanter with him. “I am sure the Darcys and the misses Parker are fine,” he said as he refilled Miss Brereton’s glass. “There is no need to frighten the ladies any more than necessary.”

  “I was not trying to frighten anybody,” said Mr. Hollis. “The kidnapper is doing a superior job of that all by himself.”

  “The Darcys ought to be told that Mr. Parker and Arthur have departed,” Charlotte said, “and also that we are still awaiting Sir Harry’s real watch from Sir Edward.”

  “Well, it will not be me who tracks the Darcys down to tell them,” Mr. Hollis declared. “I have other things to do.”

  “Indeed? What sort of things?” Mr. Granville crossed to Charlotte and refilled her glass. She did not especially want more wine, but as he was thoughtful enough to provide it, she dutifully sipped.

  “Maybe I will take that nostalgic tour of the house you recommended. Care to lead it?”

  “I would prove a very poor guide, never having been in this house before tonight.” He turned toward Sidney. “Wine, Parker?”

  The question drew Sidney from his abstraction. “What? Oh—no, thank you.”

  Mr. Granville returned the decanter to its table, retrieved his own glass, and resumed his seat beside Miss Brereton. “Perhaps,” he said to Mr. Hollis, “you could lead us on a tour.”

  “It is an old house, with many secrets.” Mr. Hollis took a long draught. “And I know a few of those secrets. But I’ll not share them with you.” He drained the rest of his wine, set the glass on a nearby table, and stood. “I bid you all good night—or what is left of it.”

  Without another word, he departed.

  “Have you noticed,” Mr. Granville said after a short interval, “that Josiah Hollis has been apart from our company during each lady’s disappearance tonight?”

  “I have,” Sidney replied, “including Miss Denham’s present unexplained absence. Are you suggesting he is responsible?”

  “Let me just say that I am in great curiosity regarding those secrets to which he alluded. It leads me to wonder where he has gone now.”

  “He obviously has a quarrel with Lady Denham, but my sisters never met him before tonight. Why would he abduct them?”

  “Revenge? They are guests of Lady Denham—to harm them is to harm her. Or—I hesitate to say this—forgive my bluntness, Miss Heywood—but perhaps he has more carnal reasons. Whatever his motive, I think he is more dangerous than he appears, and should not be underestimated.”

  Charlotte shuddered at the thought of the disagreeable Mr. Hollis having carnal intentions about anybody. She wanted, more than ever, the reassuring presence of Mrs. Darcy. “I wish we knew where the Darcys are,” she said. “They have been gone a very long time.”

  “Assuming they are together, I expect they are well,” Sidney said. “Nevertheless, I was just contemplating going to look for them. Now I am decided.” He rose.

  “May I come with you?” Charlotte asked.

  “Would you not rather stay here with Miss Brereton and Mr. Granville, to wait for them in comfort?”

  “I will not be comfortable until I see Mrs. Darcy.”

  For a moment, he looked as if he preferred not to have her company, and she feared he had grown tired of it. But then he nodded and said, “She is your friend—of course you will feel more easy when you are together. Very well—let us go. Granville, I trust you will look after Miss Brereton?”

  “Unless she would prefer to accompany the two of you—Miss Brereton, do you wish to seek out Mrs. Darcy’s reassuring presence along with them?”

  “No, I will remain here.”

  “Are you quite certain?” Mr. Granville asked.

  “I do not want to leave this room until Sir Edward returns with the watch.”

  “I understand. In that case—” Mr. Granville retrieved the decanter and topped off Miss Brereton’s glass. “It will be my pleasure to keep you company.”

  Volume the Third

  IN WHICH VILLAINY IS EXPOSED, AND ORDER RESTORED

  She had been too wary to put anything out of her own Power.

  —Sanditon

  Twenty-six

  On tiptoe she entered; the room was before her; but it was some minutes before she could advance another step.

  —Northanger Abbey

  Sidney took the stairs rapidly, forcing Charlotte to scurry to keep up with him. She hoped his haste was motivated by impatience to find the Darcys, not to be rid of her, but she could not help worrying that it was the latter.
r />   “I am sorry if I burdened you with unwanted company on this errand,” she said. “That was not my intention.”

  He stopped and looked at her, surprise evident. “Not at all. Whatever gave you that impression?”

  “You seem determined to outpace me.”

  “Oh! Forgive me—that was not my intention. I am distracted, is all. My sisters—and now Tom gone to Trafalgar House with Arthur—”

  “Of course.” Charlotte reproached herself for her own vanity. Of course with his entire family in a state of crisis, Sidney Parker’s thoughts were so focused on important matters that whether she accompanied him or not was of such insignificance that it had not even registered in his thoughts. “Where are we headed?”

  “When the Darcys left the portrait room, they were going to look in on Miss Denham and Mr. Hollis. I thought we would start with their chambers, and move on to the Darcys’ apartment from there. If we do not discover them in one of those places, locating them will become more challenging.”

  They found Miss Denham’s chamber empty—which did not bode well. Charlotte had hoped to discover her ensconced there, uninterested in bestowing her presence on the inferior guests gathered in the portrait room. Her absence made it all the more likely that she, too, had fallen prey to the kidnapper.

  Mr. Hollis’s chamber was also empty.

  “After bidding us all good night, he is anywhere but retired,” Charlotte said. “What do you suppose he is up to?”

  “No good.”

  “Do you think Mr. Granville is correct—that Mr. Hollis is dangerous?”

  Sidney met her gaze squarely and said to her, with more seriousness than she had yet witnessed in him, “Until we get to the bottom of this, Miss Heywood, do not allow yourself to be left alone with anyone you do not absolutely trust. Especially Mr. Hollis.”

  They proceeded to the Darcys’ quarters. Charlotte recalled that their rooms were Archibald Hollis’s former apartment. As they neared, they saw a figure turn the corner at the far end of the corridor to approach the apartment from that direction.

  Sidney quickly pulled her into an alcove. There was very little light in this part of the hallway; the few sconces that had been lit earlier had sputtered out in the course of the night, leaving them in such dimness that they could barely see each other. The far end was better illuminated; there, a single sconce resolutely soldiered on, holding out until the bitter end after its companions had fallen. By its light, before they took cover, she had managed to identify the approaching figure: Josiah Hollis.

  Sidney leaned out of the alcove just enough to peer down the hallway. “I do not think he saw us,” he whispered.

  Charlotte slowly released her breath. “What is he doing?”

  “He just entered the Darcys’ apartment. With a key.”

  He took her hand again, and together they quietly crept down the hallway. When they reached the apartment, the door stood slightly ajar.

  Sidney slowly pushed it open as Charlotte silently prayed that Mr. Hollis was not in the antechamber immediately behind the door—and that Lady Denham’s servants kept the hinges well oiled. Mercifully, the door swung without sound, enabling them to see the glow of candlelight coming from the chamber beyond—the dressing room. Unfortunately, Mr. Hollis was not visible through the dressing room doorway directly opposite. If they wanted to observe the business that brought him here, they would have to enter the antechamber and look through the doorway from a more advantageous angle.

  Sidney gestured toward a corner of the antechamber, indicating that she should move there while he completed the more daring mission of going to the interior doorway to peer inside the dressing room. Charlotte held her breath as he proceeded. The only noise was that of Mr. Hollis rummaging through something in the next room—and her own heartbeat, which thumped so loudly in her ears that she could hardly believe it went unheard by Sidney and Mr. Hollis.

  Thankfully, Sidney did not have to enter the dressing room to view Hollis. Whatever the unscrupulous gentleman was doing, Sidney could observe by remaining in the antechamber and looking through the doorway at an angle. Thank heavens—she did not think her nerves equal to anything riskier than what the two of them were already doing.

  After what seemed an eternity, but was probably no more than a minute or two, Sidney stepped back from the doorway and came to her side. From within the dressing room, she heard the sound of wood meeting wood—as of a lid shutting. Hollis was leaving—heading for the only door by which they could escape.

  Sidney dropped to the floor, gesturing her to do the same.

  Hollis emerged. Without so much as a glance to either side, he passed straight through the antechamber and looked into the corridor. Apparently satisfied that he could leave unobserved, he exited, quietly closing the door.

  Charlotte waited for the sound of a key turning the lock. But it never came … only the sound of receding footsteps.

  “Is he gone?” she whispered.

  “Unless those footsteps belonged to someone else, I believe so.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up from the floor.

  “Why did he not relock the door?”

  “Not being privy to his thoughts, I can only suppose he either forgot or does not care whether the Darcys know someone has been here.” He pulled her to her feet. Though they stood but inches apart, without the glow of Hollis’s candle, they could barely see each other.

  “What was he doing in the dressing room?”

  “Pawing through the trunk that contained these fine garments we all borrowed from the late Archibald Hollis this evening. He removed something small enough to put in his coat pocket, but I could not see what it was. Come—let us follow him and find out what he does with it.” He led her toward the door.

  Charlotte was not altogether certain that continuing to follow Mr. Hollis was a good idea, but if they had it within their power to learn something that could enable them to rescue Sidney’s sisters and the other missing ladies, she felt they ought to attempt it. Were she being held captive, she hoped someone would do the same for her.

  Sidney slowly opened the door and looked out. Mr. Hollis was not in sight.

  “From the sound of his retreating footsteps, I believe he went in the direction whence he came,” Sidney said.

  Charlotte concurred. They walked to the end of the corridor and rounded the corner, leaving behind the illumination of the stalwart sconce and entering darkness once more. Sidney offered his hand again, which she readily accepted.

  “Someday,” he said, “I shall have to take you for a stroll in the daylight.”

  They passed numerous rooms until they reached the one that opened into the long gallery—the scene of her earlier collision with Sidney. From this anteroom they could see candleglow emanating from the gallery. They slowed their strides to the smallest of steps and ever so cautiously peeked through the doorway.

  Josiah Hollis stood about halfway down the length of the room, studying one of the portraits. From her angle of vision, Charlotte could not be entirely sure, but she was fairly certain that it was the watercolor of Archibald Hollis in his youth. As they watched, Josiah reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small object that he held up to the painting. It was about the size of the miniatures in the portrait room case.

  Mr. Hollis remained there some minutes, contemplating the juxtaposed images. Then, nodding, he returned the miniature to his pocket.

  Charlotte and Sidney backed away from the doorway. Footsteps commenced in the gallery. Thankfully, they sounded like they were heading toward the opposite end, but the two would-be spies were not about to linger. They turned quickly to exit the anteroom.

  However, in the nearly nonexistent light of Hollis’s retreating candle, neither of them realized how close they were to the small table holding the delicate bud vase that had captured little Mary’s attention during Charlotte’s first visit. The skirt of her dress caught one of its corners—

  Disturbing it just enough to send the vas
e crashing to the floor.

  Twenty-seven

  [She] had expected to have her feelings worked, and worked they were. Astonishment and doubt first seized them; and a shortly succeeding ray of common sense added some bitter emotions of shame.

  —Northanger Abbey

  As the sound of shattering glass pierced the silence, the sound of Mr. Hollis’s footsteps ceased.

  Charlotte thought her heart would surely stop along with them. She looked at Sidney; even in the near darkness his face reflected every bit of the horror spreading through her.

  As abruptly as they had lapsed, the footsteps resumed—now coming in their direction.

  They glanced frantically about, seeking a hiding place. Sidney caught her hand and hurried them to the nearest window. The heavy draperies had not been drawn across it, but hung to either side, and he pulled her behind the nearest drapery panel. It was not wide enough for them to stand side by side, but there was no time for them to adjust it or for one of them to move behind another panel. The increased volume of Hollis’s footsteps announced that he had entered the room.

  Charlotte flattened her back against the wall. Sidney leaned into her, both of them trying to take up as little space as possible lest from the outside the unusual fullness of the drapery panel reveal their presence to Mr. Hollis. It was so dark behind the panel that she could not see Sidney, only feel his chest against hers, his cheek against her temple, his arms on either side of her. They struggled to control their breathing, fearful that the sound of accelerated exhales or the rise and fall of the drapery fabric hanging against Sidney’s back would draw Hollis’s attention. Sidney’s short, shallow breaths warmed her neck; she could feel his heartbeat as strongly as her own.

  The footfalls ceased midway through the room. Mr. Hollis had stopped.

  Sidney held his breath. So did she. Why—why did Hollis not simply continue on his way, thinking they had fled the room? Had he noticed them? Dear G–d, he must have noticed them! She willed him to quit the room. Willed the darkness to shroud them from observation.