They arrived at Donwell. Though invigorated by their walk, Elizabeth was happy to retreat from the brisk air and gathering dusk. Her nose and cheeks tingled with cold, and she longed for the warmth of a glowing hearth. Parting from Mrs. Knightley and Mr. Simon, she went to her chamber in hopes of finding an established fire and Darcy.
She discovered that she would have to settle for one out of two. Her husband was absent, but a cheerful blaze greeted her. So did her maid, Lucy, who advised her that Darcy had been closeted with Mr. Knightley in the study since their own return three-quarters of an hour earlier.
Elizabeth set her new stockings on the dressing table and went to the fireplace. When sufficient warmth had seeped into her bones, her maid helped her dress for dinner. Lucy had just finished arranging Elizabeth’s hair when Darcy entered the room.
He appeared pensive, and perhaps weary. It had been a long, busy day for them both. He carried two small sacks, which he deposited on a table beside the door. Their contents clacked against each other and the table’s wooden surface, engaging her curiosity.
Lucy smoothed one last lock of Elizabeth’s hair and departed. When the door had closed, Darcy approached.
“How was your outing with Mrs. Knightley?” he asked.
“Illuminating. How was your excursion with Mr. Knightley?”
“Intriguing.”
He tucked her wayward lock of hair, which had come loose the moment Lucy quit the room, behind her ear. As he regarded her reflection in the glass, he noticed the stockings on the dressing table. “Are those new?”
“I bought them from Mr. Deal today.”
He picked them up, holding them by their tops so that the silk unfurled to full length. “Did you need new stockings?”
“We need the peddler’s cooperation. I considered them an investment.” She turned away from the mirror and reclaimed them. “I did not realize you took such interest in ladies’ stockings.”
“Only yours, Mrs. Darcy.”
She rose to put them away, deliberately brushing him as she passed. “Next time I shall buy two pair.”
He laughed and stole a kiss. “It seems the peddler did quite well by us today, for you are not the only one who encountered him.”
“Indeed? And what did you purchase?”
He nodded toward the sacks. “See for yourself.”
Requiring no further encouragement, she crossed to the table, took up one of the bags, and opened it. The sack held colored glass beads of varying sizes. She withdrew a handful.
“And you questioned the stockings. What are we to do with these?”
“They are for Lily-Anne.”
“Lily-Anne?” Whatever was her husband thinking, buying scores of beads no larger than acorns for a nine- month-old child? “I hope you do not intend them for her until she is older. If you give them to her now, she will put them straight into her mouth.”
“Then I suppose you will consider the other bag even less appropriate for her.”
She had assumed the sacks shared the same contents. She returned the beads to the first and lifted the second. It was much heavier. With a questioning glance at Darcy, she loosed the drawstring and looked inside.
Her gaze immediately returned to him. “Mr. Deal sells sling bullets?”
“He not only sells sling bullets, he sells sling bullets identical to the one we discovered this morning. Distinctive markings identify them as having almost certainly come from the same mold.”
“And to whom does he sell them?”
“That, Mr. Knightley and I have yet to determine.”
“Mr. Knightley is the magistrate. Cannot he compel Mr. Deal to name his customers?”
“As you well know, simply asking someone a question does not guarantee a truthful reply, particularly if it could incriminate the respondent. We have been discussing whether to arrest Mr. Deal outright. The sling bullet connects him to the robbery, and so provides sufficient cause. At present, however, we believe he will prove more useful to us if he remains at liberty. Mr. Knightley has assigned a man to monitor him.”
“The two of you think he was directly involved in the robbery?”
“Even if Mr. Deal knows nothing about the crime, it is highly probable that the thieves obtained their bullets from him.”
“Unless they obtained them from the same source as the peddler. In fact, he could have acquired the bullets
“Mr. Deal claims that he obtains the bullets from a man in Richmond. Granted, that same man could supply other merchants, could have sold the bullets directly to the robbers, or could even have committed the crime himself. However, our thieves were here in Highbury last night, and Mr. Deal has been in the neighborhood for a fortnight, so the bullets used in our robbery likely came from him.”
“Merely selling ammunition does not make him an accessory to robbery.” She paused. “Does it?”
“No, but it is possible that he sold — or even gave — the thieves the bullets in full knowledge of their intended purpose.”
“For a share of the stolen goods?”
“Our robbers were practiced criminals, and Mr. Deal is in a perfect position to profit from their crimes. Whatever they steal in one town, he can sell in the next. He could even be one of the thieves himself.”
“He has but one hand.”
“Mr. Deal, I am sure you observed, is extraordinarily adept. And a cord-sling can be wielded by a one-handed man. Were it not for the fact that we found two sets of footprints, I would say that he and Miss Jones could have comprised the entire conspiracy.”
Elizabeth considered the man she had met only a couple hours earlier, and tried to reconcile the person who had treated a spinster and a simpleton with kindness, with the image of him as a conspirator in a robbery ring. He had seemed so agreeable. But then, experience had taught her that outward appearances could not be trusted. She had known — or thought she knew — other individuals whose amiable veneer had hidden a less-than-honorable heart. A man persuasive enough to sell a sack full of colored beads to Darcy could sell anything — including himself.
“There was at least one other conspirator besides the slinger and Miss Jones,” she said, “for we saw him with our own eyes.”
“Whom?”
“The raven.”
“Its appearance was indeed timely, but I doubt the bird plotted robbery.”
“No, but perhaps its trainer did.”
Darcy looked at her in surprise. “A trained bird — I had not considered that possibility.”
“The raven startles and distracts potential victims, then its master presses the advantage.”
“I have to concede, it is a good stratagem. What led you to think of it?”
“I met Mrs. Martin today — the young woman Frank Churchill rescued from the gypsies last spring. When she described the incident, she said that a large black bird had swooped around while the beggars harried her. How many such birds can there be in Highbury, appearing so conveniently?”
“So, our thieves are indeed gypsies, almost certainly the same ones Frank Churchill encountered. Did Mrs. Martin spy Miss Jones or Hiram Deal among the band?”
“She said she saw no English. It sounds, however, as if she was too much terrorized to notice anything beyond her immediate situation. We shall have to ask Mr. Churchill whether he saw Miss Jones or the peddler that day.”
“Frank Churchill might not be forthcoming on that point.”
“Why not?”
“It is increasingly possible that his appearance on the scene was even less coincidental than that of the bird. Mr. Knightley and I suspect he might have deliberately sought out the gypsies. Mr. Deal says there is an herbalist among them who makes up the physics he sells, and Frank might have gone to her for a specially prepared one.”
