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Or was an endangered Mrs. Smith calmly trying to negotiate for her and Alfred’s lives with a devil so cold-blooded that he could laugh as he bargained? If only she could hear what they were saying.
Then she recalled that she could.
She turned to Mrs. Wentworth, whom she had kept in suspense while these thoughts had been flying through her mind. “I know that you trust Mrs. Smith, but at this moment, I am not sure I do. Let us listen to them a while—and pray they remain so absorbed in their conversation that they do not notice us through the fog.”
Mrs. Wentworth regarded her with doubt, but nodded.
Elizabeth took Mrs. Wentworth’s arm and led her forward. “After we pass the gin shop, we should be able to hear them. Stand as Mr. Elliot does—close to the wall, with your back to them, blocking me from view. Be sure to remain silent yourself.”
They passed the wooden doors, walked several yards farther, and drew near the wall.
“… and all of this has led you to the conclusion that, your own husband’s fortune having been exhausted, you somehow possess a claim upon mine.” Mr. Elliot laughed again, an eerie, hollow sound in the mist. “My dear Mrs. Smith, what elixirs has your doctor been prescribing that induce such imagination? Smuggling, and gold, and—are there pirates, too, perchance? You could support yourself as a novelist—this is better than Robinson Crusoe.”
“Do not mock me. I know what I heard.”
“And just whom did you hear this from?”
“Mrs. Clay. In this very spot. The morning she died.”
“Impossible. She never would have confided in you. She did not even know you were in Lyme—you are so much altered that I myself did not recognize you until I saw you at Alfred’s christening with A
Elizabeth had seen Mrs. Smith in that “very spot”—on her bench—on that unforgettable morning. It was her customary place, where she sat each day, almost invisible in her familiarity, watching other people.
And, Elizabeth now realized, listening to them.
In all her hours on that bench, week upon week, Mrs. Smith must have discovered the Cobb’s acoustical phenomenon. She was perfectly positioned to overhear all sorts of conversations—including one of Mrs. Clay’s.
“I heard it from both Mrs. Clay and from you,” Mrs. Smith continued. “She took great pleasure in telling you that she had returned to Sir Walter. She did not reveal that she had just married him, only that when she left you the night before, she had put into action a plan that she had initiated after learning of his being in Lyme and of your betrayal. You had been lying to her, but she was again under Sir Walter’s protection, and she wanted her share of the gold now that she was no longer under yours.”
That, Elizabeth at last understood, was why Mrs. Clay had been on the Cobb the morning after her wedding. She had met with Mr. Elliot to continue the discussion Elizabeth had overheard the night before. So long as you live under my protection, my assignations are my business. Her marriage to Sir Walter had freed her of dependence on Mr. Elliot, empowering her to force him into relinquishing the profits she believed rightfully hers.
Or so she had thought. Then she took a tumble off the Cobb—doubtless helped over its edge by Mr. Elliot.
“You have also been lying to me,” Mrs. Smith said, “and I want my share of the money my husband’s property has helped you acquire.”
“Indeed? And do you want Mrs. Clay’s share, too, now that she can no longer claim it for herself? Is that why you caused her accident?”
Silence followed. Elizabeth tried to look past Mrs. Wentworth to see Mrs. Smith’s reaction, but Mr. Elliot yet blocked her view.
“Ha! It was you,” Mr. Elliot continued. “I was guessing, but I can see from your expression that I am right. In the excitement of the ship’s explosion, you thought nobody saw you push her, did you not? But as I was leaving the Cobb, the sound of the blast caused me to turn around. I saw two women on the high wall—one of them falling, and the other with an arm extended toward her. I was too far away to see you clearly, so I did not know it was you until this moment. I still do not know how you reached the upper wall or got away in your pathetic, crippled state. But if you stopped me here this morning to threaten me with secrets, I suggest you consider the magnitude of this one before proceeding further.”
Mrs. Wentworth’s eyes were wide. Indeed, Elizabeth, for all her speculation on the subject of Mrs. Clay’s death, had never anticipated this.
In a moment, however, she realized that Mrs. Wentworth’s apprehensive expression was due only in part to Mr. Elliot’s revelation. The rest was caused by something behind Elizabeth.
She turned round to see Darcy and Captain Wentworth striding toward them. Unfortunately, she and A
“Well. Look who is come.”
“I trust you will explain to me later how you came to be here.” Darcy’s heart had nearly stopped when he saw Elizabeth on the seawall in such proximity to Mr. Elliot. When he and Wentworth had failed to find Mr. Elliot at the Lion, they had decided to seek Mrs. Smith on the Cobb before making the fifteen-mile journey to Sidmouth. They had not expected to find their wives there.
Knowing Elizabeth, however, Darcy probably should have. “I ca
“Captain St. Clair does not know,” Elizabeth replied. They and the Wentworths had edged away from the face of the wall, to a distance where they could speak without danger of being overheard by Mrs. Smith and Mr. Elliot. “But we will have to share the details later, for at present I must tell you what we have just learned. Mrs. Smith pushed Mrs. Clay off the wall—at least, that is what Mr. Elliot has accused her of, and she did not deny it.”
“Mrs. Smith?” Darcy said. “How is that possible?”
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said. “We might have found out had you and Captain Wentworth not arrived when you did. They have noticed us now.” Both Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Smith were looking at their party.
“Her legs have been getting stronger,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “I have observed her moving into and out of chairs more easily, and walking short distances—a few steps—within the house, but I thought her still quite dependent upon her cane. How she managed the steps here on the Cobb—even I would not venture up Gra
“She might have used the other stairs just round the bend, behind the quay—the ones we came down after the ship exploded,” Elizabeth said. “They are not far, especially if her legs are stronger than she has led you to believe. If she took care, she could manage them the same way she managed the stairs this morning at your house. I wager it was she who went up to the nursery and took Alfred.”
“And it is I who will take him back.” Captain Wentworth began walking toward the pair. The others fell into step.
“When we reach them, there is no use pretending we did not hear their discussion—with Mrs. Smith, at any rate,” Elizabeth said. “Look where her bench is, Darcy—she is ideally situated to overhear conversations, and in fact heard one between Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot shortly before Mrs. Clay died. I do not know whether Mr. Elliot is aware of the phenomenon; I think perhaps not, for his speech to her was unguarded.” She paused. “For that matter, so was hers—I wonder whether she realizes the whispering effect works in both directions.”
“I ca
As they neared the bench, they were able to obtain a closer look at Alfred. The child was wrapped in a blanket and appeared to be sleeping. Mrs. Smith smiled at the Wentworths. “Why, good morning, A