North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) (10 page)

“He invited us.”

“Had you ever visited Northanger Abbey before?”

“Never.”

“It is a large house, and your stay was rather brief. Where did you pass most of your time?”

“In our own chamber,” Darcy said. “We had endured a long day’s travel, due to the storm, and retired early.”

The constable nodded, his second chin spilling over the folds of his simply tied neckcloth. “And where were your quarters?”

“Upstairs, in the back of the house.”

“The late Mrs. Tilney’s apartment?”

“So we were told.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth to see whether she seemed any better able to grasp Mr. Chase’s purpose than he, but she appeared equally perplexed.

“While occupying the apartment, did you remove or relocate any objects?”

“No. We left all as it was.”

“And you left in haste, did you not?”

The sharpness of Mr. Chase’s tone raised Darcy’s defenses. What intelligence did the constable truly seek, and why did he not simply ask for it? Darcy began to doubt whether full cooperation were in his and Elizabeth’s best interest.

“What causes you to believe we departed in haste?”

“Perhaps I should have said ‘urgency’ As you stated, the storm rendered travel hazardous. Only necessity could have induced you to risk the roads yesterday. What prompted your departure?”

Darcy hesitated to state that there had been no specific reason other than a sense that nothing at Northanger seemed quite as it should. “Business calls us home.”

The constable gestured to the remains of their breakfast. “Yet I find you enjoying a leisurely morning. Are you no longer in a hurry to reach Derbyshire?”

“We thought it best to postpone further travel until the roads improve.”

“They are greatly improved now—I just traveled them myself to
come here. But I am afraid your journey home will be delayed regardless.”

At a look from Mr. Chase, one of his companions moved to stand in front of the door. Too late, Darcy wondered whether Mr. Chase were indeed a constable. He instinctively shifted to place himself more squarely between Mr. Chase and Elizabeth.

Noting his movement, Mr. Chase chuckled humorlessly. “Fear not, Mr. Darcy. So long as you cooperate, this will not become a physical confrontation.”

Darcy suddenly felt like cornered prey. His pulse quickened as his mind scrambled to assimilate the nature of the threat Mr. Chase posed.

“Cooperate in what?”

Mr. Chase rose, walked behind his chair, and rested his hands on its back. “I received an anonymous letter this morning advising me that a crime had been committed at Northanger Abbey. It seems that a collection of diamonds once belonging to the late Mrs. Tilney has vanished from the premises, and that their disappearance coincides with your visit at Northanger. Can you offer any enlightenment on this matter?”

Elizabeth gasped and looked at Darcy. “The diamonds . . .”

Mr. Chase seized upon the utterance as if it were a confession. He leaned forward and regarded Darcy with increased antagonism. “So you do possess information. Where are the diamonds?”

Initial relief that Mr. Chase indeed represented the law rapidly gave way to resentment at the suggestion that Darcy had broken it. “We know nothing about any missing diamonds,” he said. “We discovered a set of jewelry in Mrs. Tilney’s chamber, but we left it in the drawer in which we found it.”

“When did you make this discovery?”

“Almost directly upon our arrival. My wife happened upon them while seeking a hairbrush as we dressed for dinner.”

“Did you mention them to anyone?”

“I was going to mention them to Captain Tilney,” Elizabeth said. “But he interrupted me and our discourse shifted to other subjects.”

“You did not think the discovery of a valuable set of jewelry merited redirecting the conversation?”

“We were not in the captain’s company much longer.”

“By your own management. And you claim that the diamonds were still in their drawer when you left Northanger?”

“I presume so,” Elizabeth said. “We never looked in the drawer a second time.”

“You did not need to. The two of you discovered the diamonds and decided to take them for yourselves.”

The accusation so appalled Darcy that he momentarily lost the power of speech. “Nay, sir,” he practically sputtered when he recovered himself. “We most certainly did not.”

“By your own admission, you spent the majority of your time in your chamber—even retiring early. Thus you not only had ample opportunity to hide the diamonds among your belongings, but your presence in the chamber restricted the access of any other party.”

He could not believe his ears. How dare this self-important clod carelessly issue such a serious allegation? “We were absent from the room at dinner and breakfast, in addition to our time with Captain Tilney. Someone could have entered the apartment then. A servant, perhaps.”

“Such as a housemaid? That is possible,” the constable conceded. “Did you happen to encounter any of the servants who attended your chamber?”

Darcy paused. Revealing the lack of attention both they and their chamber had received from Northanger’s staff did not seem likely to aid their cause.

Mr. Chase twisted Darcy’s hesitation to suit his purpose. “You suspect one of your own servants, then?”

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “One cannot imagine more trustworthy servants than Lucy and Graham. Beyond that, they both took ill
upon our arrival and entered our apartment only to repack our trunks when we departed.”

“When you departed as soon as possible to make good your escape—with the diamonds in your repacked trunk.”

Darcy shot to his feet, unable to contain his outrage any longer. “Sir, you insult my honor as a gentleman. And you insult my wife.”

“Then to prove your innocence, you will not object if we search your belongings.”

He objected very much to Mr. Chase and his cronies ransacking their trunks. “I will not have my wife subjected to that indignity.”

“Would you rather subject both her and yourself to the indignity of sitting in gaol while I complete my investigation?”

“Gaol?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“On what grounds?” Darcy asked. “You have no evidence, only your own speculation.”

“And the letter.”

“A letter authored by someone too cowardly to sign his name.”

“Darcy.” Elizabeth had moved beside him and now touched his arm. “We can resolve this very easily. Let Mr. Chase search our things. We have nothing to hide.”

Submitting to such an affront went against every natural impulse. But she was right—they had nothing to hide, and allowing Mr. Chase to determine that for himself was a more expedient way to acquit themselves of his ridiculous accusations than engaging in prolonged argument.

“Very well,” he said stiffly.

A thorough examination of every trunk, case, and compartment—right down to Elizabeth’s reticule and his coat pockets—commenced. Darcy observed in silent fury, thankful that Elizabeth had packed no diamonds of her own to confuse the search. Just as the offensive exploration seemed at an end, Mr. Chase’s gaze came to rest on the umbrella stand, where Darcy’s walking stick rested.

The constable withdrew it from the stand. Darcy resented the sight of him holding the cane.

“This is yours, I presume?”

“It is.”

He inspected the grip, then twisted the cinquefoil band. To Darcy’s astonishment, the cane separated into two pieces.

With a smug glance at Darcy, Mr. Chase set aside the grip, inserted two fingers into the shaft, and withdrew a long, narrow bundle wrapped in cloth. He set the shaft on the table beside the grip and, as Darcy watched in dread, unfolded the muslin.

“Well, now, Mr. Darcy.”

The constable held up Mrs. Tilney’s diamond necklace. Sunlight bounced off its many facets, splaying the walls with damning brilliance.

“What have we here?”

Ten

My hearing nothing of you makes me apprehensive that you, your fellow travellers and all your effects, might be seized by the bailiffs. . . .

—Jane Austen, letter to Cassandra

D
arcy stared at the two pieces of the cane in disbelief. He had owned the walking stick for a decade. How could he never have noticed that it held a hidden compartment?

The still more obvious question—how the diamond necklace, bracelet, and eardrops had come to be inside it—he could not begin to contemplate.

Mr. Chase sent a servant to fetch the magistrate, who arrived quite put out that his hunting party had been disrupted. But a case of this magnitude, with defendants of the Darcys’ social status, warranted immediate attention. Mr. Melbourne would determine whether sufficient evidence existed to commit Darcy and Elizabeth to gaol pending trial at the next assizes.

The magistrate held the proceedings in the common room of the Golden Crown before an audience of local tradesmen, merchants, and yeomen.

“Could we not discuss this matter in private?” Darcy said.

“Justice is a matter of public interest, Mr. Darcy,” the magistrate responded. “I conduct all my hearings in full view of His Majesty’s lawabiding subjects.”

Though called in from the hunt to perform his duties this afternoon, Mr. Melbourne had taken meticulous care with his person before arriving at the Golden Crown. His clothes looked so freshly donned and his dark hair so neatly combed that one could scarcely believe he had traveled to the inn on horseback. Apparently, he ran his legal proceedings in the same exacting manner he applied to his appearance. Darcy actually found a degree of reassurance in this; he would rather deal with a justice of the peace who regarded his responsibilities seriously than one who approached them so sloppily as to not deserve the office.

“Mr. Chase, present the evidence against the Darcys,” said Mr. Melbourne.

The constable strutted forward. “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and his wife have committed theft against Captain Frederick Tilney of Northanger Abbey. After passing Tuesday night as guests in his home, they repaid his hospitality by stealing a set of diamonds from his late mother’s chamber. I found the couple right here in this inn, with the diamonds in their possession.”

Darcy rose. “Mr. Melbourne, we—”

“I shall inform you when it is your turn to speak, Mr. Darcy.”

Mr. Melbourne asked to see the diamonds, and Mr. Chase readily produced them. The sight of the jewels raised a murmur in the crowd, which seemed to grow by the minute. Apparently, the arrest of a gentleman and his wife formed the most interesting event the village had seen in some time.

“They secreted them in a cane with a hidden compartment,” the constable said as he handed the cane to Mr. Melbourne for inspection. “See here? The grip twists off like this. Someone less observant would have missed it altogether, but I figured it out.” His chest swelled. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy took the diamonds, hid them in the cane, and smuggled them out of the house.”

The magistrate examined the pieces, then regarded Darcy coldly. “Is this true?”

“It is not, sir. My wife and I are victims of deceit. I assure you, we did not steal those diamonds.” Darcy longed to inspect the cane himself. Mr. Chase had not allowed him to handle it since the diamonds were discovered.

“Do you admit to owning this walking stick?”

“I do, but I had no notion of its harboring a hidden compartment.” He gestured toward the cane. “Might I?”

Mr. Melbourne considered a moment, then nodded his consent.

Darcy took up the two pieces. He tilted the opening of the shaft toward the light and determined that the hollow extended about twelve inches. Threads at the top and in the cinquefoil band enabled the shaft to screw into the grip. He fitted these together; when joined, they formed a smooth line that betrayed no evidence of the secret compartment within. He weighed the cane across his hands, then gripped it by the head. It felt familiar in his palm. How could he not have known?

He traced his finger along the length of the cane. And found his answer.

The slight imperfection in the wood was not there. The grain ran evenly down to the tip.

“This walking stick is not mine,” he declared.

“Not two minutes ago you identified it as yours.”

“It appears very much like mine—resembles it so closely, in fact, that I carried it out of Northanger Abbey and into this inn without realizing the difference. But my cane has a slight imperfection in the wood about halfway down its length, a widening of the grain barely noticeable unless one seeks it. This cane displays no such mark.”

“How very convenient.” Mr. Melbourne’s countenance indicated that he did not believe a syllable Darcy had just uttered.

Darcy was not accustomed to having his word doubted. “My wife can attest to the marking on my cane.”

“As your wife is also implicated in the theft, her confirmation
means little. Further, you have now just admitted that you left Northanger with this cane, and the diamonds it contained, in your possession. If the cane does not belong to you, then you have stolen it, too.”

“This is absurd! We did not steal the diamonds, and we did not put them in this cane.”

“Then how do you account for Mr. Chase’s having found them in your custody?”

“Someone else must have placed them in the walking stick.”

“Someone else
gave
you these diamonds, and neglected to inform you of it? That is preposterous.”

“Not nearly as preposterous as the notion that we stole them. I am a gentleman. I own an estate in Derbyshire larger than Northanger Abbey. If I wanted diamonds, I would purchase them myself.”

“I have been practicing law and maintaining order in this county a long time, Mr. Darcy, and if there is one thing I have learned about human nature, it is that people often do not act according to sense. You are not the first gentleman I have encountered who stole something he could well afford to buy. Nor does England lack gentlemen who, through mismanagement or dissipation, have exhausted their own coffers and might find themselves unable to resist the temptation of an easy opportunity to refill them.”