The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Page 27

  The gentlemen helped Mr. Hollis remove his coat and boots. As he rolled into bed, he managed to stay awake just long enough to answer one last question from Darcy.

  “If Sir Edward is indeed responsible for any or all of the ladies’ disappearances, we cannot predict his state of mind upon our arrival, or of what else he might be capable,” Darcy said. “Before we leave Sanditon House, can you direct us to the gun room?”

  * * *

  To Elizabeth, it seemed the tunnel led to the center of the earth, so extended a time did they follow it. She felt closed in and longed for fresh air. The lantern’s glow struggled to illuminate the darkness ahead, but instead was swallowed by it.

  She wished she knew what to anticipate when they reached Denham Park. Darcy and Sidney both thought it unlikely that Sir Edward would turn violent, but had taken the precaution of arming themselves with a pair of small military pistols they had found in the gun room. They carried them in the oversized pockets of the vintage frock coats they yet wore.

  Just when she became convinced that the tunnel had no end, they came upon an unexpected fork. An opening on their left led to a stair; the main tunnel continued on as it had done.

  “Apparently, Hollis did not see fit to warn us of this split,” Sidney said.

  Darcy brought the lantern closer to the stone wall to examine the opening. “He might not know about it.” He shone the lantern farther into the opening. “This construction appears to me much more recent than that of the main tunnel.”

  “Which one do we take?” Sidney asked.

  “The main one,” Darcy replied. “Assuming it is the original tunnel, we know it leads to Denham Park.”

  He turned to head in that direction, but a faint sound caught Elizabeth’s ear. “Wait just a moment,” she said.

  There it was—she heard it again. “I think I hear something. Let us go to the base of the stair.”

  They walked the twenty feet or so, then stood in silence, listening. It was a faint, sporadic sound, barely detectable.

  “Voices,” Darcy whispered.

  They quietly climbed the stairs and came to a door. The voices behind it were stronger, but still too muffled to make out words. They sounded female. One of them, more forceful, rose above the others.

  “That is Diana,” Sidney murmured.

  “Are you certain? Darcy asked. “The words are indistinguishable.”

  “I would know her tone anywhere.”

  Darcy studied the door. “It is less solid than I might expect. All the same, I hope we do not have to break it down. He tested the latch.

  It gave.

  Darcy pushed the door. It opened into an alcove, which they quietly entered. A larger room lay beyond, from which they could hear voices. Ladies’ voices. All talking at once.

  They stepped into it, then peered into the larger room beyond … wherein they discovered Susan, Diana, Miss Denham, and Sir Edward.

  “Thank heavens you are here!” Sir Edward exclaimed, his expression full of desperation. “Please help me.”

  Thirty-two

  Sir Edward’s great object in life was to be seductive. With such personal advantages as he knew himself to possess, and such Talents as he did also give himself credit for, he regarded it as his Duty.… it was Clara alone on whom he had serious designs … She was his rival in Lady D.’s favour … If she could not be won by affection, he must carry her off. He knew his Business.

  —Sanditon

  “Pray, do not scold me—I do not think I can bear it just now,” Sir Edward said. “I have been hearing enough of my folly from my sister.”

  “It is no more than you deserve,” Miss Denham responded. “Now that the Darcys have arrived, may I go home?”

  “You would abandon me just as more guests have joined us?”

  Elizabeth scanned the parlor, taking in its old, mismatched furniture, bare wooden floor, unadorned walls, and heavy, closed draperies that gave the appearance of having been hastily hung. To her dismay, she saw no sign of Miss Heywood.

  Before she could enquire after her friend, Susan and Diana descended upon the new arrivals and drew them into the room as if welcoming them to a party. Susan appeared very much as they had last seen her, but Diana held a pungent compress to the top of her head and approached in a less energetic manner than usual—which is to say, that of a normal person. Both Parker sisters assailed them with conversation at once.

  “We have been waiting for you to arrive.”

  “Will Tom and Arthur be joining us, too?”

  “I am so glad you are finally here!”

  More practiced than Darcy and Elizabeth at maneuvering through the conversational barrage of his sisters, Sidney seized upon an opportune pause for air to interject.

  “Where is ‘here’? This does not look like any part of Denham Park that I have ever visited.”

  “We are in Sir Edward’s new cottage ornée, of course!” exclaimed Susan. “It is not finished yet—we are the first to see it. Diana has been particularly helpful, offering Sir Edward and Miss Denham all sorts of advice as to its completion and fitting-up. Shall we ask them to show you through its rooms?”

  Sidney glanced from Susan to Sir Edward, who remained several feet away still engaged with Miss Denham in a conversation he appeared to wish were not taking place. “How did you come to be here?”

  “Have you forgotten? Sir Edward brought us here to keep us safe from Lady Denham’s kidnapper. He said he told you and Tom that we had gone. Or perhaps it was Tom and Mr. Darcy.”

  “He did not utter a word about it to me.” Darcy studied the baronet, taking his measure with a look that lasted long enough to attract Sir Edward’s notice. “You say he persuaded you to come here for your own safety?”

  “Not exactly,” Susan said. “I do not recall the journey at all—I fainted before Sir Edward explained himself, or where we were going, or even who he was when he appeared in the dark, come to think of it. Regardless, I woke up here, and am grateful for his protection, even if unconventionally provided.”

  “Are you both well?” Elizabeth asked.

  “As well as we ever are,” Diana said. “Susan’s sore gum is still giving her trouble, and she remains faint-headed from the leeches. I myself suffered a slight bump.” She lowered the compress to reveal a dark, swollen bruise on top of her head.

  “Good heavens!” Sidney exclaimed. “How did—”

  “My own carelessness,” she said. “But it is nothing to worry about. Doubtless, the injury looks worse than it is, and although I have likely sustained a concussion, it must be a mild one—as you can see, I am yet able to walk. The pain is tolerable—you know I am capable of bearing great agony with fortitude.” She glanced at Sir Edward, who was following their conversation with an expression of increasing discomfort. “Now, our host, on the other hand—”

  Diana leaned closer to her listeners, but did not lower her volume. “If you ask me, Sir Edward appears peaked. Do you not agree? I requested some herbs to prepare an infusion for him, but he has yet to provide them. I also lectured him at length about the need for better ventilation in that tunnel if he plans to continue using it regularly.”

  Sidney’s gaze, which had been searching the room alternately with focusing on his sisters, now swept widely. “Has Sir Edward brought anyone else here? Miss Heywood, perhaps? I do not see her.”

  “Oh, yes!” Susan gestured toward a closed door opposite them. “She is in the next room, sleeping.”

  Relief suffused Elizabeth upon hearing this news. She would not have to confess to Charlotte’s parents that she had somehow managed to lose their daughter. Sidney, too, visibly relaxed, though his expression quickly became anxious again. “Why is she by herself? Is she well?”

  “Worn out, poor thing,” said Diana. “She could scarcely keep her eyes open when Sir Edward brought her here. Miss Brereton, too—she is sleeping in one of the other rooms.”

  Miss Brereton, here as well! “I thought she was with Mr. Granville?�
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  “No, Mr. Granville asked Sir Edward to take care of her, and he was happy to oblige.”

  What had led to that request, Elizabeth could not imagine, but she was glad to now know Miss Brereton’s whereabouts with certainty. They had found all the missing women except Lady Denham herself. There was still much to be discovered and uncovered, but Elizabeth dared to hope all would be resolved.

  “Excuse me for a moment.” Sidney started toward Charlotte’s door with long strides. Elizabeth followed, wanting to ascertain with her own eyes that Charlotte was indeed safe and sound. They stopped when Diana outpaced them both and lifted a candle from the small table beside them.

  “Miss Heywood complained of the headache when she woke earlier,” Diana said. “I shall look in on her with you, in case she requires my aid.”

  “No—please stay with Susan and the others,” Sidney replied, with a glance at Elizabeth that encompassed her in the request. “I will summon you if needed.”

  Recalling Sidney’s admission that he and Charlotte had quarrelled, Elizabeth stepped back. Patching up matters between them might do more to relieve Charlotte’s headache than any words Elizabeth could offer or medicinal remedy Diana could concoct.

  Diana, however, stepped forward. “I was going to examine her again anyway—”

  “You are needed more here,” Sidney said. “If Sir Edward looks peaked, perhaps he is in need of nourishment. Have you yet shared with Miss Denham your recipe for toast-and-water? Nobody makes it like you do.” He kissed her on the cheek, took the candle from her hand, and disappeared through the door.

  A startled Diana stared after him, then turned around and strode to Miss Denham. “The recipe is very simple, actually—”

  “I am sure our cook is quite capable of preparing it, and likely already has a recipe of her own.” Miss Denham tilted her chin haughtily. “Besides, I do not think I have ever so much as entered the kitchen at Denham Park.”

  “Never?” Though Diana seemed a lady difficult to astonish, Miss Denham had accomplished it.

  “I have servants for that.”

  “Well!” Undaunted, Diana straightened her shoulders. “How can you be sure they are preparing it—or anything else—properly, if you never learn at least enough to supervise? Come—this cottage has a kitchen, and it is time you became acquainted with invalid cookery.”

  “Mrs. Darcy, perhaps you could help me explain that mistresses of great houses such as Pemberley and Denham Park have no need to learn such things.”

  “Actually,” Elizabeth said with secret delight, “I have an excellent recipe for gruel, writ out for me by the master himself of a great house in Surrey, that I will happily share with you once you have learned how to prepare toast-and-water.”

  Miss Denham released a sound of disgust and strutted from the room.

  Willfully mistaking the younger woman’s departure for an excursion to the kitchen, Diana hurried to catch up with her. “I suppose it is too much to hope that ingredients for eel broth are also at hand.”

  “Eel broth?” Susan exclaimed. “Wait for me!”

  In the welcome silence that followed, Darcy closed the distance between himself and Sir Edward, whose countenance appeared still more peaked by the prospect of an imminent serving of toast-and-water being forced upon him. Elizabeth, too, drew close.

  “Now that we are alone, let us waste no more time,” Darcy said to the baronet. “What, exactly, is transpiring here?”

  “Well, I—that is…” Sir Edward retreated a few steps, until the backs of his knees met a nearby chair. He almost fell into it, but caught his balance. “Um, you see—”

  “Yes?” Elizabeth prompted.

  He wandered behind the chair, running his hand along the top of its back—and testing Elizabeth’s patience.

  “Sir Edward?”

  “Oh, hang it all! I suppose I must tell you everything, if you are to help me.”

  “We have not yet said we would help you,” Darcy said. “But full disclosure would be a good start. How did all these ladies truly come to be here?”

  Though no one else was in the room, Sir Edward came round the front of the chair again and lowered his voice. “I abducted them.” He looked like a little boy admitting he had sneaked into the kitchen and stolen a biscuit. “But I did not mean to abduct all of them! Most of them were entirely accidental, you see.”

  “I do not see how somebody accidentally kidnaps a cottage full of women,” Darcy replied. “So let us start at the beginning. Where is Lady Denham?”

  “Lady Denham?” Sir Edward repeated the dowager’s name as if he had never heard of her. “Why, I have not the faintest notion. If she was kidnapped, that was some other villain’s doing. But her disappearance is the cause of all my misfortune since.”

  “You are the one who has committed the kidnapping.” Elizabeth said. “How can you claim to be a victim of misfortune?”

  “Her disappearance forced me to move forward with my plan to seduce Miss Brereton before I was fully prepared. As you can see”—he gestured toward the entry hall, only half papered, and the random assortment of furniture in the room where they stood—“the cottage is not quite ready to receive her.”

  Darcy’s incredulity was evident. “Are we to understand that you planned to abduct Miss Brereton and bring her to a cottage not only on your own property, but within sight of the very house from which you stole her?”

  “Not abduct—seduce. Given enough time, I intended to woo her into eloping with me willingly. Abduction was my contingency plan. As for the cottage, I was going to keep her here only until we could depart for a more romantic destination. I originally had a much grander scheme—taking her to Timbuktu, or at least somewhere on the Continent—but alas, the expense! My purse cannot afford it; that is the whole reason I must seduce an heiress to begin with, you see—to marry a woman of fortune. So, most regrettably, I had to settle for a seduction on the cheap.”

  “But Miss Brereton is not an heiress.”

  “Oh, but she might be!” he said. “Nobody knows the content of Lady Denham’s will, and tonight’s dinner discussion made me realize that I needed to hedge my stake by seducing Clara before my aunt’s fate is known. If Lady Denham is dead, and her will names Clara as her heir, I will have secured my interest as her husband. If the will names me after all, I am no worse off for having a pretty new wife.”

  “And if Lady Denham is found alive?” Elizabeth asked. “Would she not be most seriously displeased at your having seduced Miss Brereton, or coerced her into marriage? The dowager could yet change her will.”

  “If she is alive, Clara has time to earn her pity, and I, her forgiveness.”

  “It has been five-and-thirty years since Archibald Hollis died, and she has not forgiven his family for their behavior regarding his will.”

  “Has she not? She invited Josiah Hollis to Sanditon House tonight for some reason. Everyone else present is a friend—she must be feeling more genial toward the Hollises than she has in the past.”

  Elizabeth, recalling the bitter expressions of resentment toward the Hollises that Lady Denham had voiced only the day before the dinner party, doubted that the widow had forgiven Josiah or any of his relations in so short a span. The fact that he slept in Sanditon House even now—with Lady Denham herself still missing—troubled her deeply. For better or worse, she had expected to find the dowager among the other missing women. At least Clara Brereton had escaped the full measure of Sir Edward’s idiocy.

  Or had she?

  “Sir Edward,” Elizabeth said sternly, “you have not physically forced yourself on Miss Brereton since bringing her here, have you?”

  The baronet stared at her, his countenance utter shock. He stepped back in horror, forgetting about the chair directly behind him, and fell into it. “Good heavens! What kind of monster do you mistake me for? I would never violate a lady in that manner!”

  “Then what is this talk of seduction?” Darcy towered over the baronet, who spraw
led meekly in the chair. His voice was calm, deadly calm—and deadly cold. “Lady Denham’s disappearance drove you to act sooner than planned, but by your own admission, in building this cottage you have been plotting to abduct Miss Brereton for some while, so that you could then ‘seduce’ her. What, precisely, did you intend to do once you were alone with her here, that would result in her consenting to elope when she had refused you before?”

  “I meant to seduce her heart! I thought that if I could only get her away from Sanditon House and Lady Denham’s influence for an extended period of time—more than a few stolen minutes here and there—I could win her love, and her hand in matrimony. But alas! I will never know whether I might have succeeded. Since bringing her here, I have been unable to court her—how could I, with so many other people milling about? The one conversation we did have, went badly—she expressed in no uncertain terms her displeasure with my scheme. So I have left my dear Clara entirely to herself, and according to the other ladies, the fair creature has slept nearly all the while.”

  Elizabeth was relieved that, however wrongheaded, entitled, and vain Sir Edward’s intentions had been, they had not included ravishment. She was also glad to hear that Clara had not hesitated to assert herself with the baronet—and that he had been put to the rout.

  “You still have not explained how the rest of the ladies came to be here,” she said.

  “Through a series of unfortunate errors,” Sir Edward replied. “When I first realized I needed to elope with Clara as expediently as possible, I attempted to persuade her, but she rejected my efforts, as well as the marriage proposal I made after dinner. With no other recourse but to abduct her, I lay in wait for her to come to her chamber, then grabbed her from behind and whispered a warning to be silent. She complied by fainting, which made it easy for me to hoist her over my shoulder and carry her here through the tunnel. She awakened just as we reached the cottage. But when I set her down, I saw that—to my shock and dismay—I had entered the wrong bedchamber, and abducted not Miss Brereton, but Susan Parker.”

  “You could not tell the difference between Miss Brereton and Miss Parker?” Darcy asked.