The servant soon returned with a tall, authoritative-looking gentleman.
“I understand you are looking for the magistrate. I am Mr. George Knightley.”
Darcy bowed. “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Derbyshire, and my wife. Pray excuse us for arriving at such an inopportune moment.”
“Our party was just concluding. I do have another pressing matter, so we might have to continue our conversation tomorrow, but I can give you a few minutes now. Let us discuss your business in the library.”
They followed him through former cloisters to a large chamber that held at least as many volumes as did Pemberley’s library. A passing glance at some of the titles — Darcy could not help himself — revealed a wide range of subjects and authors: philosophy, economics, history, science, law, politics, poetry. He saw, too, that Mr. Knightley shared his commitment to keeping abreast of the latest agricultural theories and practices. On one of the tables lay open a book that Darcy had been reading himself before leaving Pemberley.
Mr. Knightley motioned them toward two armchairs, then took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “I am sorry that your introduction to Highbury was less than cordial. Tell me what occurred.”
“We were on the road from London, a mile or two outside of the village, when a young woman hailed our carriage,” Darcy said. “We stopped to assist her. Claiming to have injured her ankle, she drew us and our coachman away from the carriage. While we were thus distracted, someone else struck our other two servants unconscious and stole our chest. Then the woman slipped away as well.”
“Did you see the assailants?”
“No. The rear carriage lantern broke, and I had brought the forward lantern with me when I approached the woman. Our servants did not see anyone, either. When they regained consciousness, our footman said he had been hit from behind while repairing the lantern. After some minutes, the groom went to check on him, discovered him lying on the ground, and was struck from behind, as well.”
“So the robbers never directly confronted you?”
“We saw only the woman.”
Mr. Knightley closed the agricultural volume and set it aside, along with a page of notes. From a drawer he withdrew a fresh sheet of paper and reached for his quill. “Kindly describe her. You said she was young?”
“Perhaps sixteen. She had blond hair.”
“Light blond,” Elizabeth said. “Her face and arms were tanned, considerably browner than her ankle, which she asked me to examine. She had small bones but seemed strong. She wore a white muslin dress. It was somewhat dirty, but not beyond what one would expect for a person who had been wandering lost in the woods for hours, as she claimed to have done.”
Mr. Knightley nodded as he took down the details. “What story did she tell?”
“She identified herself as ‘Miss Jones,’ though I would be astonished if that is indeed her true name,” Darcy said. “She said she was visiting cousins, also named Jones, at a nearby farm.”
“We have two families named Jones who farm in this parish. I shall enquire after the woman. Did she offer any other information?”
“Nothing about herself,” Elizabeth said, “though just before she disappeared, she told me there were highwaymen about.”
“This is the first I have heard of any highwaymen in the area. The worst menace we have known recently is a rash of poultry thefts. Have you any reason to think you were targeted on purpose? Was anyone paying particular attention to you or your belongings when you last stopped to water the horses?”
Darcy could recall no such unwanted notice, nor could Elizabeth. “I expect they waited along the road to take advantage of any promising traveler, and we merely happened into their path first.”
“You are fortunate that they did not confront you directly and seize the chest by force. Were you armed?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lose the weapon with the chest?”
Darcy shook his head. His small traveler’s pistol had been concealed in his greatcoat, and the robbers likely never suspected that Elizabeth carried an even smaller one in her reticule — or that she was a surprisingly talented markswoman. “My pistol was not inside it. The chest contained an heirloom set of christening garments and a signet ring that belonged to my late mother.”
Mr. Knightley dipped his pen again and looked to them both. “I shall require a description of the items if we are to have any hope of recovering them.”
“The christening clothes are a beautiful set,” Elizabeth said. “An embroidered gown of cream satin, trimmed with silk braid and silk ribbon ties. There is also a long pinner bib with Hollie point lace, and a lace-edged cap.”
“The signet ring is gold, inscribed with the initials
They provided a few more particulars. When they had done, Mr. Knightley returned the quill to its stand. His countenance, sober since their interview had commenced, grew more grim.
“Until we know more about the highwaymen, I am afraid I cannot be optimistic about your belongings being recovered,” he said. “I do, however, pledge to do all I can. In the morning, I would like you to accompany the constable, Mr. Cole, to the area on the London road where you encountered Miss Jones. Perhaps daylight will reveal clues as to the identities of these bandits.”
The butler entered. “Mr. Perry has returned, sir.”
“Thank you. I shall attend him directly.” Mr. Knightley rose. “I will send someone now to the Jones farms to learn what we can, but then I must excuse myself to address another matter before I can discuss this one with you further.” He withdrew his watch from the pocket of his waistcoat. “The hour is grown quite late. I hope you do not intend to continue your travels tonight?”
“No, we plan to take a room at the Crown Inn. Our servants and remaining luggage were to meet us there.”
“I am afraid they undoubtedly found the Crown full. The assembly that was breaking up as you arrived here included many guests who have taken rooms there.”
“Is there another inn?”
“Unfortunately, no. We are a small village.” He paused. “But a hospitable one, I like to believe. Allow me to offer you accommodation here.”
“We do not wish to intrude on your celebration,” Elizabeth said.
“Not at all. I am sorry to say that the celebration reached a premature end. The dinner honored friends who recently wed, and the groom’s uncle unexpectedly died not long before your arrival.”
Darcy now understood the odd hush that had enveloped the crowd as it departed. “Surely you do not want strangers among you at such a time.”
“Half the guests are strangers to me — friends of the bride and groom. Your presence will be no intrusion, and I insist upon extending you a kinder welcome to Highbury than did Miss Jones. Permit me to send for your things at the Crown. In the morning, we can discuss your incident in greater detail and attempt to locate your stolen belongings.”
Mr. Knightley summoned a servant and instructed him regarding the arrangements. “And send a man to Hartfield to ensure that Mr. Woodhouse reached home safely,” he added.
“Now,” he said, leading the Darcys out of the library, “let us find Mrs. Knightley so that she can make your acquaintance.”
As they passed through the cloisters once more, Darcy mentioned the agricultural book he had seen on Mr. Knightley’s desk. “I have recently been reading Stuart myself, and am not certain I agree with all of his recommendations. Perhaps after more urgent business has been resolved, we can exchange opinions of his theories.”
Mr. Knightley appeared pleasantly surprised by the suggestion. “I should like that very much. Few among my acquaintance, save my steward, enjoy discussing such issues as much as I do.”
“Mr. Darcy has the same difficulty,” Elizabeth said. “Though, while we were in London, he managed to find enough gentlemen of similar interests at Lord Chatfield’s dinner party that they spent half the evening discussing
