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“Good morning,” A
Captain Wentworth went straight to Mrs. Smith and took Alfred. “You have given us quite a fright, Mrs. Smith. We have been looking for Alfred.”
“Yes,” A
“I had nothing to do with the child,” Mr. Elliot declared. “He was with Mrs. Smith when I happened upon them.” He glanced at the quay, where the Black Cormorant was docked. The merchantman had acquired her guns since Darcy had last seen her. Darcy wondered whether it was Mrs. Smith or the ship that had brought Mr. Elliot to the Cobb.
“I did not mean to alarm you,” Mrs. Smith said. “Did you not find my note?”
Captain Wentworth passed the sleeping baby to his wife, who held him tightly. As Alfred nestled against her—a welcome sign that he was sound—the anxiety in her face diminished but did not disappear. “No,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “There was no note.”
“I left it in—well, now, where did I leave it? All was such a bustle when we quit the house. The chair bearers were impatient. I had wanted to linger a few minutes more for Mrs. Logan to return, but they said they had other customers waiting. So I decided to bring Alfred with me.”
“Why did you not simply leave him sleeping in the nursery?” Captain Wentworth asked.
“I thought he might enjoy the outing, and the sea air has been so therapeutic for me that I believed he could benefit from it as well. Besides, he was not in the nursery when the chair arrived—he was already with me. I had heard him crying earlier, after Mrs. Logan went out. You were in the study with your guests—I did not think you wished to be disturbed. So I went to the nursery myself to quiet him. He would not settle down without being held, and the sedan chair was due to arrive, so I brought him downstairs with me so that I might watch for it.”
“How did you negotiate the stairs?” Mrs. Wentworth asked.
Mrs. Smith smiled brightly. “On my own legs, I am proud to say. I have been improving beyond your knowledge, A
Mrs. Wentworth regarded her in astonishment. It was not, however, the delighted amazement that Mrs. Smith had hoped to arouse in her friend. It was a sober, wary shock. Her gaze drifted from Mrs. Smith to the wall behind her, and up to the edge of the parapet from which Mrs. Clay had fallen. “And is that,” she said, her voice small, as if muting it would negate the possibility of what she was about to ask, “how you came to be standing on the upper Cobb the morning Mrs. Clay died?”
Mrs. Smith’s cheerful glow transformed into a panicked flush.
“I can explain.”
Admiral Croft returned to the Wentworths’ home in a great flurry. He entered the sitting room so intent upon his mission that he did not realize he interrupted two people who had been engaged for some time in private conversation.
“I have the warrants,” he a
“With Mr. Darcy.” Captain St. Clair rose from the sofa to accept the sword; Georgiana also stood. “They are tracking down Mr. Elliot.” He summarized Alfred’s disappearance.
Admiral Croft frowned. “This is most alarming. How is Mrs. Wentworth taking it?”
“Not well. She is upstairs in the nursery. Mrs. Darcy is with her.”
The admiral nodded. “We will not disturb them.” He looked at Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, please assure Mrs. Wentworth that Captain St. Clair and I have gone to apprehend Mr. Elliot. Sir Laurence, as well.”
“I will, sir. I am sure the news will relieve her.”
Admiral Croft bowed. “Let us make haste, Captain.” He quit the room.
Captain St. Clair put on his hat and girded his sword. From bicorne to boots, he looked every inch an officer prepared for battle.
“You do not expect to fight Sir Laurence, do you?” Georgiana asked.
“If the baronet is as intelligent as he thinks he is, he will surrender without resistance. But if not, I am prepared.” Her anxious expression gave him pause. “We intend to take him alive, if that is the source of your concern.”
“No, it is not.”
Hand on his sword hilt, he took a step toward her. “I had been wanting to warn you of him for some time, but feared you would interpret my words as—well, it does not matter now. When next you see me, Sir Laurence will no longer be a threat to anybody.”
He took leave of her, then went to meet the admiral in the hall. He had nearly quit the room when Georgiana’s voice stopped him.
“Captain—”
He turned round. “Yes, Miss Darcy?”
She advanced until she stood just before him. “Do take care.”
He regarded her a long moment, his eyes full of hopeful determination. “I shall.”
“Show a leg, Captain St. Clair,” called the admiral from the entry hall. “Sir Laurence and Mr. Elliot will not be kept waiting.”
Thirty-Six
“We were a thoughtless, gay set, without any strict rules of conduct. We lived for enjoyment. I think differently now: time and sickness and sorrow have given me other notions.”
“It was an accident.”
Mr. Elliot chuckled at Mrs. Smith’s declaration. “Undoubtedly.”
Mrs. Smith stared at him a moment, appearing to weigh something in her mind, then turned to the others and gave A
“I was here that morning, as usual. The weather started to turn, and Mrs. Rooke left to summon the sedan chair early to take me home. She had barely started away when I became aware of a conversation going on above me on the upper wall. I recognized the voices—they belonged to Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot.
“I had seen them together on the Cobb numerous times before, but though they sometimes walked right past my bench, they never saw me—nobody notices a cripple; indeed, passers-by avert their gazes to avoid my eyes—and I am so changed that the two of them never realized how close they strolled to a discarded remnant of their past. I saw them in their fine clothes, saw her belly great with evidence of yet another illicit dalliance, and never did anything to draw their attention as they walked past. Betrayed by them both, I wanted nothing to do with them.
“That morning, they argued, and I learned that their treachery had gone further than I had previously known. Moreover, I learned that Mrs. Clay had left Mr. Elliot and taken up residence with your father. The news angered Mr. Elliot, but it incensed me.” Mrs. Smith’s face contorted in disgust. “She made me ill”—her voice shook—“with her loose ways and string of lovers. There I was, impoverished and alone, my husband dead, no fortune to ease my physical comfort, no children to console me. Privation and poor health were my sole legacy from the careless days of our youth, while she had attained everything she ever wanted.”
She fingered her locket, with its miniature of the late Mr. Smith, and turned to Mr. Elliot. “And you—you sickened me in other ways. Not only have you been living in luxury off a fortune my husband’s property made possible, but you—my ‘friend’—kept another secret from me for so many years.”
“You were happier not knowing,” Mr. Elliot said.
“I suspected. When I asked you directly, you denied any knowledge—I had to learn years later from your wife. However, when I sorted through my husband’s papers after he died, I found a note from you proving that you knew from the start. I tore it to pieces, not wanting any reminder of how thoroughly deceived I had been by everyone around me. Now I wish I had kept it, as further evidence of what a heartless creature you are.”