Page 35 of Cousin Conundrum

“A caricaturist?” he repeated.

“Do you deny it, sir?”

He shook his head. “I would be a fool to do so.”

Delight filled Kitty. “Which one are you? Are you Mr. Rowlandson? I am—” She broke off. Simply because she’d caught him didn’t mean she should reveal her secret. “I adore Mr. Rowlandson’s work.”

“I truly cannot admit to which caricaturist I am. That would be unwise.”

Kitty considered that, pursing her lips. “Does Mrs. Hurst know?”

“That I am a caricaturist? Decidedly not, and I would not wish for her to be told.”

Kitty imagined that made some sense. Mr. Rowlandson made enemies, what with his deft mockery of London’s elite. Hence why he, and other, caricaturists didn’t use their real names.

Rowlandson in particular was known to have angered many a peer. Kitty wished she dared ask for his assistance. He would know precisely how to take revenge on Mr. Darcy.

Still, Mr. Hurst might not be Rowlandson, and being a caricaturist seemed like an odd occupation to hide from his wife. It wasn’t as if he were some sort of miscreant. Maybe Mrs. Hurst couldn’t keep a secret? Or she had no use for humor? Some people didn’t, like Mary.

Regardless, Kitty reveled in meeting a fellow. “How do you come by your inspiration? Is that why you are in the cloakroom? Seeking ideas?”

Slowly, as if reluctant, Mr. Hurst nodded. “I find the Archers intriguing. There is something about them. Something…off.” His eyes narrowed intently, as if she may reveal knowledge he didn’t yet possess. “Their gowns are quite exquisite. Do you imagine they sew them?”

Kitty’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Certainly not. Women like the Archers do not sew their own garments, and only a skilled modiste could manage such quality.” If he knew that little about women’s fashion, perhaps he truly could forget which cloak belonged to his wife. Not that he’d truly been seeking it. “What did you hope their cloaks would reveal?”

He frowned at the garments. “I do not know. I simply wish to learn more about them.”

“I can help.” Which would, in turn, give her the opportunity to learn more about Mr. Hurst. To discover which of her rivals he was. Perhaps even gain some useful advice about their profession, or beat him to whatever joke could be made of the Archers. All while hiding from him that he aided K. B. Hert.

“Help? How?”

Kitty shrugged. “Our cousin, Mr. Collins, is their cousin as well. They call on us. I have been on a carriage ride with them. I can ask questions you certainly cannot, and spend time with them in a way that would be ill taken were you to make the attempt.”

“And why would you do that?”

“It sounds like ever so much fun.” Kitty leveled her best witless smile on him.

“What if that fun turns dangerous?”

“How dangerous can questions over tea be?” And what could possibly be dangerous about the Archers? Other than their ability to capture all the eligible gentlemen, which was more an aggravation than a danger.

“Likely nothing,” he said, but tension remained about his eyes. Then his shoulders slumped. “Almost certainly nothing.”

Did he want them to be dangerous? “Well, then, why deny me the entertainment spying on them will bring?”

He studied her, considering. “Very well.”

Kitty clapped her hands together, delighted. “What should I find out, then?”

“Discover where they were before coming here, and who made their gowns.”

“Who made their gowns?” That seemed an easy enough question to ask. For her, at least. She could see how Mr. Hurst doing so would prove awkward.

What would he learn from such information, though? What about the origin of their gowns could be caricature worthy? Would Lydia know? Miss Bingley looked the sort to. Maybe Kitty could strike up a conversation with her.

“Yes. I need to know who made their clothing and where they lived before they arrived here.”

“I daresay that will be easily found out, but how do I tell you? Wait for us to be invited to tea and pass you a note?”