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“I will watch for her arrival,” Elizabeth said, “for I would enjoy speaking with her again, too.”
The press of other guests moved the Darcys through the remainder of the receiving line at a pace which allowed for no more than perfunctory acknowledgments of introductions. They formally met Lady Dalrymple, Sir Basil, the slighted Mary Musgrove (indeed Sir Walter’s youngest daughter) and her husband, Mr. Charles Musgrove. They then found themselves at liberty to circulate.
It was hot in the Rooms. The number of occupants only increased the August heat that had stolen inside along with them, and sunshine poured through a large window that overlooked the sea. Lemonade had been set out, and Darcy went to retrieve some for the ladies.
Elizabeth had not anticipated knowing many of their fellow guests, but discovered that in addition to the Harvilles and Lieutenant St. Clair, she recognized quite a few others. Mr. Shepherd, apparently not illustrious enough a personage to merit a place in the receiving line—he was only the guest of honor’s grandfather, after all—was present with Alfred’s brothers, Mrs. Clay’s older two boys. Elizabeth judged the boys to be perhaps eight and ten, dressed in mourning as deep as that of Mrs. Clay’s father. The family tree had not been kind in planting the seeds of their appearance. The elder boy bore his mother’s freckles and crooked tooth, while the younger had shockingly red hair which, for Alfred’s sake, Elizabeth hoped he had inherited from his father’s side. The boys had stationed themselves beside the refreshment table, a proximity ideal for sneaking rout-cakes each time Mr. Shepherd turned his head.
In the opposite corner, Mr. William Elliot observed the room and its occupants. He wore merely a black armband in acknowledgment of Lady Elliot’s passing. The minimal display of mourning for so recent a death declared to the world that he considered his co
Darcy returned with three glasses of lemonade. Elizabeth gratefully accepted the one he handed her.
“Mr. Elliot is here.” She nodded in the gentleman’s direction. “Given the scandalous nature of his relationship with Alfred’s mother, I am surprised Sir Walter invited him.”
“I am more surprised that he accepted,” Darcy replied. “The invitation was actually a shrewd move on Sir Walter’s part. His marriage to Mrs. Clay thwarted any legal claim Mr. Elliot could make to Alfred or the estate—Alfred was born into a legitimate marriage, however tardily that union was formed—yet socially, the question of the child’s paternity remains fuel for gossip. By boldly including Mr. Elliot in Alfred’s christening celebration, Sir Walter publicly rejects any speculation regarding the true paternity of his heir, and at the same time reminds his rival that he will now never inherit the baronetcy.”
“Meanwhile, the death of the child’s mother apparently means little to either Sir Walter or Mr. Elliot.” Elizabeth sipped her lemonade. It was tepid, which only dropped Sir Walter further in her esteem.
“I think I am glad not to have met this Mr. Elliot,” Georgiana said. “It sounds as if he would never have borne the title of ‘sir’ as honorably as another baronet in this room.”
“Sir Laurence is here?” Elizabeth had not spied him among the guests, but doubted Georgiana meant Sir Walter or Sir Basil.
“Yes, with his sister. They are over there, just behind that gentleman wearing the mourning band.” She squinted. “Why, I believe that is the man who brushed past me on the Cobb the morning of Lady Elliot’s accident.”
Elizabeth and Darcy followed Georgiana’s gaze. The only person near Sir Laurence who wore an armband was Mr. Elliot.
Darcy’s countenance reflected puzzlement. “When did Mr. Elliot pass us that morning? I did not meet him until after you had returned to our lodgings with Lily-A
“Is that man Mr. Elliot? I saw him before the accident.”
Upon this a
“He was on the upper wall. We had just arrived and ascended the steps—you and my brother were distracted by Lily-A
Sir Laurence and Miss Ashford, having spotted Georgiana, now approached. “Do you mind if I leave you for a while?” Georgiana asked Elizabeth and Darcy.
“Not at all,” Elizabeth said. “Doubtless you would rather discuss any number of subjects with a handsome baronet than Mr. Elliot’s presence on the Cobb with me.”
Georgiana’s smile held a hint of coyness. “Perhaps.” She happily went to meet her friends, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to themselves.
“So,” Elizabeth said in a voice meant for only Darcy to hear, “Mr. Elliot was on the Cobb near the time of Lady Elliot’s accident—an accident that could well have taken Alfred’s life in addition to his mother’s.” She met Darcy’s gaze and knew she did not need to state the rest aloud. And that, if it had, would have secured Mr. Elliot the inheritance he has now lost. “When you met him, did he say anything to suggest he had been on the Cobb earlier that day?”
“On the contrary, he gave every indication that he had not, although one of the dockworkers thought he had seen him talking to Lady Elliot that morning. Georgiana’s account, however, suggests that he was leaving the seawall when he passed my sister—which was before we saw Lady Elliot still very much alive.”
“Then why should Mr. Elliot prevaricate about his presence on the Cobb before the accident? His conduct that day leaves much to be explained.”
Elizabeth studied Mr. Elliot. He had been very eager to take possession of Mrs. Clay’s baby after his birth—but what had been his feelings toward the child before it? He had not been attached enough to mother or child to marry Mrs. Clay and legitimize their relationship, as Sir Walter had done.
“The dockworker said Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay argued,” Elizabeth continued. “I wonder whether she told him she had married Sir Walter.”
“He appeared surprised by the news when we told him at the Harvilles’ house.”
“Yes—appeared. What if he already knew? What if the subject occupying his thoughts when he brushed past Georgiana was the revelation that Mrs. Clay was now Lady Elliot, and the child she carried was now Sir Walter’s heir? Mrs. Clay’s final words were ‘Elliot’ and ‘pushed.’ It is possible—perhaps not probable, but possible—that after Georgiana saw him, he circled back on the lower Cobb, ascended Gra
It was almost incomprehensible to Elizabeth that anybody could be so cold-blooded as to deliberately take the life of a child who stood in the way of succession. Yet history had proven otherwise; one had only to recall the two princes in the Tower to understand that childhood and i
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