would make it reappear. She picked up the scrap of cloth that still lay in the bottom and stared at it. Then she turned in a slow circle, her gaze ricocheting around the room as her bewildered mind struggled to absorb the obvious. Jenny had stolen the ivory.
Jenny, cheerful Jenny.
Deceitful Jenny.
If Elizabeth had felt ill upon discovering the quilt, that sensation was nothing compared to the wave that passed through her now. Her insides turned to water. The pain in her lower back returned, spreading forward into her belly and upper legs. She shakily lowered herself into a chair, but sitting down did not help.
Her thoughts bounced from her discomfort to Jenny’s betrayal and back. Had Jenny merely happened upon the statuette and taken advantage of the opportunity to steal it? Or had she been scheming against Elizabeth and Darcy since her arrival? Was Jenny responsible for the disappearance of other items? The destruction of the quilt? How closely was she working with the Northanger Abbey imposters?
Her pain eased but discomfort remained. She recalled with alarm Lucy and Graham’s mysterious “illness” at Northanger, and that it had arisen after eating a meal the conspirators gave them. Jenny had served her tea earlier. Dear Lord — had she put something in it?
She felt steady enough to rise and pull the bell. Fear for the baby overwhelmed her. Dr. Severn was expected today but had not arrived. She needed help.
She asked the answering servant to summon Mrs. Godwin posthaste, and to locate both Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds for her. As she waited, she clutched the scrap of cloth that she still held in her hand and prayed for her child and herself.
By the time Darcy arrived, she was feeling better. The pain had subsided and she had gained control of her panic. He immediately read in her face, however, that all was not well.
“Tell me,” he said.
The details came out in a rush. “I opened the lock — Lady Catherine found me — While we were arguing, Jenny stole the ivory. Now I feel ill — I fear she may have adulterated my tea.”
Darcy turned white. “Dr. Severn—”
“Has not arrived yet. I have summoned Mrs. Godwin.”
He nodded, still trying to digest all she had told him. “Describe what you mean by ‘ill.’ ”
“Similar to what I experienced in the nursery. I am presently much improved over what I was a few minutes ago.”
“How did the tea taste?”
“Strong. But not unusual.”
“Let us hope Jenny’s treachery ends with theft.”
Mrs. Reynolds entered. “Mrs. Godwin has been sent for,” she reported.
Darcy informed her that both Mrs. Godwin and Dr. Severn were to attend Elizabeth in her bedchamber directly they arrived. He also issued instructions, which he would repeat to the steward, for the apprehension of Jenny. The housekeeper departed to carry out his orders.
He had delivered the commands coolly, but when he turned to her and said, “Let us get you to bed,” she could hear strain in his voice. And when he touched her, his hands betrayed a slight tremor.
Despite her assertions that she possessed sufficient strength to walk — not to mention sufficient girth to injure him — he insisted on carrying her to their bedchamber. Lucy helped her undress while he spoke to Mr. Clarke, and he returned just as she settled into bed. He kissed her forehead and held her hand and said all the things people say when assuring a loved one she will be fine while inwardly fearing she will not.
He studied her intently “How do you feel now?”
She did not want to admit it, even to herself, but she was starting to feel worse again. Just then Mrs. Godwin arrived.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Darcy. How are you today?”
“Unwell.” And afraid.
Mrs. Godwin seemed to grasp her unvoiced reply along with the spoken. She sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Elizabeth’s hands. The other, which yet held the scrap of cloth from Lady Anne’s box, Darcy retained.
She explained her symptoms and the possibility that an unknown substance slipped into her tea might be its cause. Just as she finished, the pain began again. Mrs. Godwin asked her several questions about its location and intensity, listening closely to her replies and putting her hand on Elizabeth’s abdomen. Though the ache was stronger this time than last, with Mrs. Godwin present she was not as frightened as before.
When the pain subsided again, Mrs. Godwin turned to Darcy.
“Sir, find this Jenny to settle any doubt. But I do not believe your wife has been poisoned.” She looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “My dear, you are in labor.”
He cannot be the instigator of the three villains in horsemen’s great coats, by whom she will hereafter be forced into a travelling-chaise and four, which will drive off with incredible speed.
With Elizabeth in Mrs. Godwin’s care for the present, Darcy went in pursuit of more information about Jenny. His foremost concern was whether she had been found, but he also intended to learn everything Mrs. Reynolds could tell him about her, from her work habits to her parish of origin.
He berated himself for his blindness. He should have dismissed her the day he discovered her in the library with Wickham. Now God only knew the extremes to which her perfidy reached. They had not anticipated the child’s arrival for another fortnight at least. He prayed Mrs. Godwin’s diagnosis was accurate, that it was merely labor that incapacitated Elizabeth, with no complications caused by malice.
He rarely went belowstairs, but he wanted to speak to Mrs. Reynolds without delay, and also to search Jenny’s room. He hoped to determine as much as he could as quickly as he could, so that he might return to Elizabeth. Mrs. Godwin had said that her pains were infrequent enough that the birth was still many hours off. He grew impatient for Dr. Severn’s arrival. He would not be easy until the entire ordeal was over, but his anxiety would lessen with the physician in the house.
He found Mrs. Reynolds in the main servants’ hall, and they moved to a spot just inside the exterior door where they could talk without danger of being overheard. Yes, Mr. Clarke had come and coordinated efforts with her. No, Jenny had not been found yet. Yes, the search was widespread but discreet. No, they did not believe she had escaped the house. Yes, several men swept the park even now.
As he talked to the housekeeper, an unfamiliar chaise and four stopped at the servants’ entrance. He watched to see who emerged, but no one did. Instead, a thin figure darted toward the carriage from the hedges. Jenny.
He ran outside, reaching her just as she was about to climb into the carriage door. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the vehicle, but not before she managed to thrust a small object to one of the passengers within. He looked into the gentleman’s face.
“Wickham!”
Panic flashed across Wickham’s countenance. The driver slapped the horses, and the carriage sped off. Gripping Jenny tightly by the shoulders, Darcy tried to get a glimpse of the other passenger, but he — or she — wore a hooded cloak that obscured the face.
A servant began closing Pemberley’s gate. But the vehicle barreled through and continued at breakneck speed out of the park.
Impulse urged him to pursue — catching the conspirators meant clearing his name. But Elizabeth needed him within. And as far as his wife was concerned, he held the most important villain in his grasp.
Once the carriage disappeared from view, Jenny ceased struggling. He turned her around to look into her
