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“He states they wed by special license.”
The muscles of Mr. Elliot’s pronounced jaw tightened. Calm control, however, quickly asserted itself. “And who witnessed this felicitous event?”
“I did not ask, as I had no reason to doubt his word on the matter,” Darcy said.
Mr. Elliot turned an earnest gaze upon Elizabeth. “As a parent yourself, Mrs. Darcy, you will understand why I ca
Darcy had been wondering the same thing. Sir Walter had been only too willing to delegate the retrieval of his son to a servant, but where was that servant? Their own stop to refresh themselves had delayed them sufficiently that Darcy had expected to find the child gone by the time they reached the Harvilles’ home. “When we left him, Sir Walter indicated that he would send an emissary presently.” He addressed Mrs. Harville. “Yet you said you have received no communication from his household?”
“None. This is the first I have heard of Sir Walter’s involvement.”
“By whose authority did the undertaker collect the remains?”
“Captain Harville’s,” she said. “As no one else was here to assume responsibility, Captain Harville took charge. Mr. Elliot approved when he returned.”
“See?” Mr. Elliot turned a smile upon Elizabeth. “Sir Walter clearly takes no interest in the matter. You and your husband must have mistaken his meaning in regard to his co
Rather than relinquish the baby, Elizabeth held him still more protectively. “I think it premature for you to take him anywhere until the issue can be discussed with Sir Walter.” She looked to Darcy. “If you call upon the baronet again and advise him of the present state of affairs, he might come attend to this matter in person.”
The baby started to cry again. Mr. Elliot flinched. “Madam, how long must we endure these wails before you take pity on the poor child—on us all—and allow him to nurse? I insist upon delivering him to Mrs. Logan posthaste.”
Darcy could see that pity did occupy Elizabeth’s heart, and that she was acutely conscious of the infant’s distress. He also could read the distrust in her eyes as she regarded Mr. Elliot. It matched Darcy’s own.
“While this confusion with Sir Walter continues, resolving it must be your foremost concern,” Elizabeth replied. “I shall take the child to Mrs. Logan myself, or we can summon her here.”
Mr. Elliot frowned and stepped toward Elizabeth. “Indeed, I would rather—”
“Accompany me than transport a crying child?” Darcy finished. Mr. Elliot turned toward Darcy with an expression that indicated he had intended to end his sentence with an altogether different sentiment, but Darcy continued quickly. “What gentleman would not? You make an excellent suggestion, Mr. Elliot. Let us leave the infant in the very capable care of the ladies while we call upon Sir Walter to settle this question without further delay.”
Mr. Elliot stared at Darcy. Elizabeth caressed the infant’s back in slow circles and murmured indistinguishable words. The baby quieted again, though clearly his state of calm was but temporary. The only voices yet sounding were those of Lily-A
“Of course, time is of the essence,” Mr. Elliot said at last, “which is why I—”
A sudden wail sounded from the corner. Ben lay half sprawled on the floor, his lower lip quivering. Lily-A
“Lily-A
Mrs. Harville shook her head and laughed softly. “He is only surprised. You forget that he has two boisterous brothers who are bigger and far less gentle. I think he spends more time on the floor than on his feet.”
“Nevertheless, her behavior is inexcusable.” At Elizabeth’s prompt, Lily-A
The toddlers’ tempest had awakened the infant once more. He now fussed in sympathy, though the principals had made peace. As his volume increased, Mr. Elliot shifted uncomfortably until he appeared on the verge of himself breaking down.
“I ca
The gentlemen headed for the door, and opened it to find another man just approaching the house. He was a medium fellow—medium height, medium build, middle-aged, his grey hair neither long nor short, his countenance not striking yet not altogether plain. He was modestly but neatly dressed in a dark brown suit, its sole embellishment a black band round one arm.
Were he not immediately in their path, he might have blended into the busy street and gone entirely u
“Mr. Elliot.” He spoke in a clipped tone. “I did not expect to meet you here.”
“Mr. Shepherd.” Mr. Elliot acknowledged him with equal rigidity.
“I had to hear this news from Sir Walter? You had not the decency to inform me?”
“I myself only just learned of Penelope’s death. When last I saw her, she was quite alive.”
The man swallowed and looked away, toward the Cobb that had taken Mrs. Clay’s life. After a moment, with greater composure, he turned back to Mr. Elliot and nodded toward the house. “Is she yet inside?”
“The undertaker has collected her.”
“Where has he taken her?”
“You shall have to ask the family within. I did not make the arrangements.”
“No, I doubt you would trouble yourself, given your passing acquaintance with the expectations of propriety. But that is just as well; I will handle the matter from here. The child—where is he?”
“Do you enquire for yourself or Sir Walter?”
“Both.”
“You may tell Sir Walter that I have made provisions for my son’s care.”
The man released a low, mirthless chuckle. “Your son? Not two days ago, you refused to make any such acknowledgment.”
Mr. Elliot shrugged. “I make it now.”
“It is irrelevant now. Yesterday, Sir Walter married Penelope and legally claimed paternity of the child as part of their marriage agreement.”
“Doubtless, you drew up the document yourself. Did Sir Walter even read it before he signed it? When was the last time he decided anything independent of your influence?”
“Where is the child?”
“I suppose you were also one of the witnesses to the marriage. Who was the other?”
“Miss Elliot.”
“Oh, that is just capital! The bride’s father and the groom’s daughter—two people who have even more interest in cutting me out of the entail than Sir Walter himself. Well done, Mr. Shepherd! Your years of managing and scheming have won extraordinary recompense. Your grandson may inherit Kellynch Hall before he is out of short pants.”
“I ask you again—where is he?”
“Find him yourself.” Without another word, Mr. Elliot walked away.
Darcy watched him go. He was certainly an unpredictable gentleman—solicitous one moment, cold the next, his interest in the child shifting with the sea breeze. Apparently, that interest was more financial than sentimental.