Page 60 of Cousin Conundrum

“I will permit him to explain the trouble into which he embroiled himself in your absence.”

Curiosity replacing some of the worry on his face, Mr. Darcy nodded. To Kitty, he said, “Please have me informed if Miss Elizabeth’s condition changes, or if there is any way at all in which I may be of service.”

“I will.” A lump formed in Kitty’s throat as the jumble of events that filled what must be less than half an hour began to settle in her thoughts, unfurling. “And thank you, Mr. Darcy. Thank you so very much for saving Elizabeth.”

He blinked. “There is no need to thank me. It was impossible that I do anything else.” Pivoting, he strode down the hallway.

Miss Bingley watched him until he entered a room. She issued a long sigh, then turned back to Kitty.

“Are you well, Miss Bingley?”

A sad smile turned up her lips, not reaching her eyes. “Perfectly.” She cast a look over her shoulder at the empty hallway. “I had thought…but some things simply are not meant to be.” She drew her shoulders back, raising her rather sharp chin. “Go see if there is anything else to do for your sister while we wait for the apothecary to arrive. I will address the picnic.”

***

Steven used the commotion of Darcy’s dramatic appearance with an unconscious Miss Elizabeth in his arms to slip away from those wishing to congratulate him on Bingley’s behalf. Disappearing around the side, he went into the house. He needed to send for Fletcher, immediately and urgently.

When the Archers entered that assembly, Steven felt certain he knew at least two of them from somewhere, though he hadn’t been able to pinpoint where. Not quite as tall as their sisters, Miss Edith and Miss Catherine were still curvy, topped with bright auburn locks, and rather stunning. How could he possibly have seen such a pair of beauties before and yet not recall where or when?

Then he’d overheard Miss Archer whisper something to her mother in French, and his spark of suspicion grew. Still, these were five women, with one more younger sister rumored to be left at home, not a mother and two daughters. They were gorgeous, golden English roses, not French. Moreover, they were gentlewomen with connections to the peerage and who could, therefore, reach Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s ear. Not the sort of women a man like Steven would survive accusing of being not only imposters, but secretly working class and thieves, let alone the notorious Peacock. He needed proof.

Caroline’s rants about their gowns almost seemed like enough. Perhaps would have been, if Steven’s earlier involvement in the Peacock case hadn’t ended in such disgrace. But with Padgett’s displeasure still fresh, Steven required more to go on than his often-malicious sister-by-marriage being envious of other women’s gowns.

Now, with what Miss Kitty overheard, Steven felt nearly certain. Definitely suspicious enough to require Fletcher’s opinion, assuming Fletcher would make all haste from London on Steven’s say so, which he may not. Their collaboration had only brought the Sergeant mockery and grief so far.

Steven only hoped his summons wasn’t too late, for suddenly both Bingley and one of the Bennet sisters were in danger, though in vastly different ways. He’d warned Miss Kitty to stay away from the Archers, but it hadn’t occurred to him to issue the same advice to anyone else. It should have. If they truly were Madame Dentelle and her daughters, and quite possibly the Peacock, they were decidedly dangerous. He hoped Miss Elizabeth was not even now paying the price for his uncertainty.

He penned a hasty missive for Fletcher, then took it to the stable. Rather than squander time on the post or even a courier, Steven paid one of Bingley’s grooms to take the letter directly to London. He supplied directions to the Runners’ headquarters, hoping Fletcher was still in the habit of working late. The sooner he arrived, the better.

That seen to, Steven came around the house from the stable, and nearly ran into Louisa. Her gaze narrowed as she looked up at him. “Where have you been?” She darted a glance over his shoulder. “Gambling with the grooms?”

Taking in her angry eyes, Steven shook his head. He’d tried, since reaching the countryside, to be a more attentive husband, but Caroline’s obsession with the Archers, and their obvious desire to spend time at Netherfield Park, kept interfering. When they were about, Steven reverted to his tactic of remaining off to the side, often feigning sleep. That way he could observe without the distraction of conversing, and allay any suspicions they might have if they truly were who he feared. “I was merely asking one of the grooms to take a letter to London.”

“A letter to London?” If anything, Louisa seemed more suspicious. “What could possibly be so urgent with disaster unfolding about us? Charles has somehow become engaged, and I believe Mr. Darcy is enamored with Miss Elizabeth, when he should be courting Caroline, and you are absolutely no help whatsoever.”

Steven hated the anger twisting her features. The sullen resentment. When they married, Louisa was the most lovely woman he’d set eyes on. A bit shy, and kind, with large blue eyes that gazed up at him in adoration.

Only a few years of being his wife while he behaved so oddly, all in pursuit of fulfilling his debt to King and Country, had changed all that.

“That is why I have written to an acquaintance urging him to join us here.” How best to phrase his plan? “I believe he is familiar with the Archers and may be able to use his knowledge to extract Bingley from Miss Catherine’s clutches.”

Hope eased the strain about Louisa’s mouth and eyes. “Truly?”

Seeing her look at him as if he may be worth something after all cut into Steven’s heart and he realized he was done. Done letting Padgett rule his life and ruin his marriage. Done with keeping Louisa at arm’s length to hide his secrets, when all he wanted to do was pull her close.

He caught her hand and tugged, bringing her even farther from the house and the other guests. She let him, though he could see her confusion and suspicion.

Once they were alone under the sweeping branches of a solitary ash, lawn about them on all sides so no one could possibly sneak up on them, Steven dipped his head closer to her ear. “My acquaintance is a Bow Street Runner. He is seeking a group of suspects…” Steven trailed off, uncertain how to explain. “I met two of them once, in his company, and I am almost certain that Miss Edith and Miss Catherine are the two he seeks. If they are, Bingley cannot be bound by a proposal to a criminal.”

Louisa stared up at him as if he were mad.

“Louisa?” he asked tentatively.

“Why are you acquainted with a Bow Street Runner, and why were you with him in the presence of criminals?”

“It is a lot to explain.”

She pulled her hand from his to fold her arms across her chest. “I have time.”