Page 46 of Cousin Conundrum

“A caricaturist? Like K. B. Hert?”

Kitty tipped her head, appearing confused. “Who is K. B. Hert?”

“Papa’s favorite caricaturist.”

“Truly?” Kitty smiled, her eyes bright. “How fascinating, though I doubt Mr. Hurst could be Papa’s favorite caricaturist, which is not to the point. The point is, I believe Mr. Hurst knows the Archers from London, and he knows there will be some sort of scandal he can mock.” Kitty’s expression became earnest. “Normally I would not condone mirth at the expense of young ladies, but I do suspect the Archers, and Mr. Darcy should he become involved, deserve whatever Mr. Hurst draws about them.”

A scandal would explain why Mrs. Archer had gone from ignoring Mr. Collins’ overtures to arriving on his doorstep to accompany him to Hertfordshire. Still… “How do you know Mr. Hurst is a caricaturist?”

“Last night at the assembly, I went to get a fresh handkerchief from my cloak, and I found Mr. Hurst rummaging through the Archers’ outerwear, so I confronted him, thinking he might be a thief, but it turns out he is a caricaturist.”

Elizabeth sighed. Perhaps Kitty was not as secretly intelligent as she imagined. “Kitty, he likely is a thief. He did spend a great deal of time at the card tables.”

Kitty shook her head. “He was not taking anything. He had a small journal in hand, and he was making notes about what he found. That is how I know he is a caricaturist.”

A shock went through Elizabeth. Endeavoring to hide her welling suspicion, she brought sarcasm to bear, asking, “Oh? And that is a sign of caricaturism?”

“Is caricaturism a word?”

Ignoring that, Elizabeth pressed, “You truly believe Mr. Hurst told you the truth?”

“I truly do, and you heard them. They have left some sort of scandal behind in London. Something involving Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and they obviously know what Mr. Hurst is.”

That actually did make sense. “And they obviously do not respect his talent,” Elizabeth observed.

“Well, why should they when he is not Papa’s favorite caricaturist?”

Elizabeth studied Kitty’s wide smile, not trusting her sister’s mirth one bit. Could Kitty be working with K. B. Hert? Perhaps Mr. Hurst was not the only caricaturist for whom Elizabeth’s sister spied. Kitty did, Elizabeth now knew, go off alone quite a great deal. “How much do caricaturists make, do you think?”

Wide eyes meeting Elizabeth’s unflinchingly, Kitty said, “Who can say? Does it signify?”

“I simply wonder why someone like Mr. Hurst would be one. He is a gentleman, after all.”

Kitty shrugged. “Boredom? A need to supplement his habits?”

“Hmm.” Elizabeth studied her sister for a moment. “And how, precisely, are you to pass along what you have learned to Mr. Hurst?”

“I told him I would find a way.”

“And—”

“There they are,” Lydia’s voice said.

Looking past Kitty, Elizabeth saw Jane, Mary, and Lydia spill out onto the street.

“I could not find you,” Lydia said, coming up the street. “So I selected ribbons for you, and one for myself to thank me, and you must pay me back.”

“Where did you two go?” Mary asked, her mouth pressed thin.

“Kitty was likely pricing slippers again.” Lydia pulled a face. “She is forever wandering down to Mr. Cart’s shop to ask about slippers. Kitty, you must simply badger Mama until she provides you the funds.”

“Your slippers are perfectly serviceable.” Mary sniffed. “New ones would be frivolous.”

“That is what Lizzy said.” Kitty’s elbow jutted out, nudging Elizabeth as she spoke.

So, Kitty often sneaked away when she and Lydia went on walks to the village. Elizabeth had begun to suspect as much, and now she even had an inkling of why. Kitty was obviously an informant for a caricaturist, or someone who had convinced her of such. Possibly K. B. Hert, for Elizabeth did not believe Kitty’s wide-eyed pretense of not recognizing the name one bit. How they could have met, Elizabeth couldn’t fathom. She must learn that, and what sort of individual this gentleman was, and likely gather proof of what Kitty was up to, though what she might do with proof, Elizabeth could not yet decide. Certainly, she should tell their father.

Fortunately, contemplating Kitty’s secret provided a welcome distraction from pining over— No, she would not pine over a man she did not care for. So, rather, from being disgusted with Mr. Darcy.