Page 55 of An Accidental Meeting
“The room was not locked, Mr. Darcy,” she said with an anxious titter. “How could I have entered if it was locked?”
“An excellent question, madam. May I have the key?” He held out his hand.
“I do not have one, sir,” Mrs. Hurst said stoutly. “I was looking for a blanket, and I found one.” She lifted something in her hand.
“That, madam, is not a blanket,” Darcy said, reminding himself that no matter her behaviour Mrs. Hurst was still a guest in his house. Not for long, however.
“Of course it is,” she said with a false cheerfulness.
“It is a quilt.” One his mother had been working on before Georgiana had been born and had never finished. One that had been neatly folded and stored in the cedar drawer.
In the flickering light of the single candle, he could see that Mrs. Hurst was confused. “I see.”
“Allow me to escort you to your room, Mrs. Hurst.”
Her expression crumpled, and she nodded. Darcy locked the door behind them, for whatever good that would do, and then returned Mrs. Hurst to her chamber, where she slipped inside.Darcy waited for her door to close, then took a few steps down to the next and knocked.
Mr. Hurst would have to be made aware that his wife had been found engaged in a search for something. Darcy had not seen her pocket anything, but he presumed she had been intending to take a few of his mother’s possessions with her. He knocked again, harder this time, and waited.
No one came.
It struck him then, with a sickening sort of certainty. Mr. Hurst had asked him about the box from the stables. If he had been watching, he might have seen Anders carry it in full and then Darcy setting it out to be taken back to the stables, empty. He had even held on to the bags of seed to look over later. He would not have put it past Osmont D’Arcy to hide more gems or something of value in those bags as well, though it turned out he had not.
He hurried back to his own rooms, long legs eating up the distance.
“Mr. Darcy?” Simons asked.
“Simons, follow me,” Darcy commanded. As they walked down the hall, he added, “Do not ask questions, for there is no time. I require that you keep Mrs. Hurst in her chambers should she attempt to leave them.”
“Yes, sir,” Simons replied, clearly puzzled. He stationed himself outside the door.
“Good man,” Darcy said, already walking away. He met Rogers halfway down the stairs as the footman was coming up. “You are with me, Rogers,” he said. “I suspect someone may be attempting to enter my study.”
Rogers turned sharply, and together they hurried down to the first floor.
Nothing seemed amiss, and Darcy was both relieved and embarrassed that he had made such an assumption. The doorto the study was closed, and neither noise nor light was coming from within. But when they arrived and he turned the knob, the door he had locked earlier in the day opened with ease.
“Allow me to enter first, Mr. Darcy,” Rogers murmured, and Darcy stepped aside.
His study was dark, but there was the faint scent of smoke as though a candle had been hastily snuffed out.
“Mr. Hurst,” Darcy said into the darkness, “I know you are here. Step out into the hall with me if you please.”
Rogers’s arm shot out suddenly to their left. There was a shout, a brief scuffle, and then Rogers was leading a blustering Mr. Hurst out into the hall by his cravat.
“I say, Darcy,” Mr. Hurst spluttered, “a fine way to treat a guest.” He yanked his cravat back, but Rogers took up a position behind him. “I only wanted to see what was in that box. Your servants are all gossiping about gold in a picture frame. Was there more?” His laugh was both a sneer and a nervous attempt to throw suspicion off himself. “Who would have thought that a Darcy would deal in smuggling? An upright man like yourself.”
“It is fortunate for you that the stories you say you heard are idle ones, Mr. Hurst,” Darcy replied coolly. “For if I truly were a smuggler and found you in my study in the middle of the night, how do you think you would fare?”
“Come now,” Mr. Hurst said brusquely, though his voice wavered a little. “Surely you would not wish for news of this to get out. All I am saying”—he glanced at Rogers—“is that you might share your largesse with your friends. I owe Bingley a good deal of money, and the unevenness of your billiards table is to blame for it. Certainly you see I have a fair claim.”
Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “Rogers, would you be so kind as to take Mr. Hurst back to his rooms and make certain he remains there? Simons is doing the same for his wife.”
Mr. Hurst muttered an oath.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, sir.” He addressed Rogers. “I must see whether any damage has been done.”
“Of course, sir.”
