Page 84 of Cousin Conundrum

The alarm in Mr. Fletcher’s voice filled Elizabeth with fresh tension. Why did he seem so agitated?

“Yes, and before you go storming over there, we require an explanation,” Miss Bingley said firmly, tugging her sister from Mr. Hurst’s side to stand solidly before Mr. Fletcher. “Miss Elizabeth found an article—”

“There is no time,” Mr. Fletcher cried, his expression a touch wild.

Kitty took a half step back, gaping at him. “No time?”

Rather than answer her, he turned to Mr. Hurst. “Do you not see? Writing a letter is a pretense, to lull us. How long is it since they left here? They may already have escaped. It will be the modiste’s all over again.”

As Mr. Fletcher spoke, Mr. Hurst’s eyes grew wider, his jaw clenched. He whirled. “Bingley, we need every able-bodied man here.”

“Steven, what is happening?” Mrs. Hurst demanded, catching his arm.

He looked back at her, urgency warring with something near to panic. Turning fully to her, he clasped both hands on her shoulders. “We believe that there is no Peacock. Or, rather, that the Archer women, at least some of them, are the Peacock.”

Elizabeth gaped at him along with the others. What did Mr. Hurst mean, we? How deeply was he even involved? Wasn’t he simply a disinterested gentleman who gambled too excessively, imbibed too liberally, and dozed off in company?

“I will call for our horses,” Mr. Darcy said, gently untwining his arm from Elizabeth’s.

“I am certain the staff—” Mr. Hurst began.

“My offer of assistance is not negotiable.” Mr. Darcy strode from the room.

Elizabeth looked after him, her throat tightening. How dangerous were the Archer women?

“Ah, yes, ah, I will assemble the staff,” Mr. Bingley said, but he did not move, instead looking about, blinking.

Miss Bingley huffed a sigh. “I will assemble the staff.” Pivoting, she hurried away.

“Your pardons,” Mr. Fletcher said, barking, “Hurst,” as he left.

Mr. Hurst dropped a kiss on his wife’s lips, then followed. She gazed after him in worry.

“I, ah…” Mr. Bingley looked about again. “Yes, well, I should…” He made a vague gesture. His gaze lingered on Jane for a long moment, then he, too, left the little parlor.

“I should go after them,” Kitty said. “I can help.”

“You most certainly will not and cannot,” Elizabeth replied.

“You must not distract them.” Mrs. Hurst took Kitty’s arm, as if she expected the need to physically restrain her. “If they are worried about protecting you, they will not be able to devote the effort they should to apprehending those women.”

Jane sank down onto a settee. “Do you truly believe that Mr. Collins’ cousins are…are the Peacock?” Her worried gaze sought Elizabeth. “For how long has he been robbing people?”

“Two years?” Elizabeth shrugged and went to sit beside her sister. “I do not know what to think. Perhaps Lady Catherine is wrong, and the gentlemen will storm over to find Mrs. Archer at her desk composing a letter and will be quite embarrassed.” She turned to Mrs. Hurst. “Mr. Fletcher is a Bow Street Runner, but I do not understand how Mr. Hurst is involved in all this.”

Mrs. Hurst released Kitty’s arm to smooth her hands down her skirt. “I am not truly able to tell you.”

“You must tell us something,” Elizabeth insisted.

Mrs. Hurst pursed her lips for a long moment. “He works for the Crown. That is all I will say.”

Jane gasped, echoing Elizabeth’s surprise.

Free from Mrs. Hurst’s restraint, Kitty turned back to the cabinet. “Such a shame about our plan. I wonder if it would have worked?”

Without, footfalls pounded. Several male members of the staff barreled past the open doorway, rushing to answer whatever commands Miss Bingley was giving.

“I still say I should go with them.” Kitty stared out into the hallway with pursed lips. “They are obviously not equipped to deal with how cunning those women are.”