manage to take something from her. “I thank you for my share of the favor, but no.”
Loretta nodded toward Elizabeth’s cup. “Allow me to read your tea leaves, then?”
The girl was a charlatan, likely hard-pressed to read a primer, let alone portents. But, curious about what sort of flummery she would concoct, Elizabeth consented to the leaf-reading.
“Have you finished your tea?” Loretta asked.
“Not quite.”
“Drink all but the tiniest amount. And if you want a particular question answered, concentrate upon it while you drink.”
Though Elizabeth had one very simple question — whether she would ever see her belongings again — she did not dwell upon it as she sipped the last of her tea. She would allow destiny — or, rather, Loretta — to determine what the leaves would reveal.
“Now,” Loretta said, “take the handle and swirl the remainder around — yes, just that way. Then overturn the cup onto the saucer.”
Elizabeth inverted the cup. When the small amount of remaining liquid had drained out, Loretta instructed her to right the cup. Dark brown leaves and stems were randomly scattered and clumped against the pale china. Most of the clusters were on the bottom; a few clung to the sides, along with a fine trail of tea dust. One grouping was almost at the rim. Elizabeth saw nothing prophetic in the arrangement — save a vision of the serving girl washing out the cup when they had done with this game.
Loretta took the cup from her and studied the leaves. “A bouquet — that is always a good sign. It means a happy marriage. The lines reflect that you are on a journey, one that will eventually bring you back home.” She offered Elizabeth a smile, but Elizabeth did not return it. So far Loretta had divined nothing, only stated information she could easily have observed or guessed from their encounter on the highway.
The would-be seer rotated the cup a quarter-turn. “A letter will arrive soon, from someone named ‘D.’ ”
Again, not a startling proclamation. Their surname was Darcy; it was no great hazard to suppose that some family member might contact them. In fact, they anticipated letters from Darcy’s sister, who wrote them daily with news of Lily-Anne.
Loretta seemed put out that Elizabeth was not issuing exclamations of amazement as Mrs. Todd had done. She rotated the cup another quarter-turn, so that the handle was now at the top. “There is a cat near the rim…”
“And what does that portend?”
“Difficulties.” Loretta set the cup down.
Aha. Elizabeth would not play her assigned role in this performance, and so her fortune was becoming more dire. The prediction did not intimidate her; she had already experienced trouble aplenty on this journey. “What sort of difficulties?”
“How am I to know?”
“I thought you were a fortune-teller,” Elizabeth said.
Alice squirmed. “Mama—”
Loretta pushed away the cup. “I have seen all I can.”
“Mama, I don’t think that is a cat. It looks like a wolf. Do you not think it looks like a wolf?”
“It is not a wolf,” Loretta snapped.
“It
Loretta smiled at Alice, but it was a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. “That is not a hammer, sweeting.”
“What is it then?” the child asked.
Loretta looked at Elizabeth sharply. “A snake.”
She offered no further explanation, evidently waiting for Elizabeth to ask. Loath to indulge her but out of patience, Elizabeth submitted.
“And what does a snake signify?”
Loretta reached for her stout, raised the glass to her lips, and drained it.
“Snakes are always bad omens.”
Disingenuousness and double-dealing seemed to meet him at every turn.
Darcy assessed Miss Jones in the dim light of the Crown. “If you wanted to escape the gypsies, why did you not ask us for assistance while you had the opportunity to speak to us alone on the road that night?”
Miss Jones glanced at Mr. Elton, one of her few supporters who remained. Mrs. Todd now sat at a nearby table, diverting her daughter as she waited to see whether Loretta would be enjoying her hospitality or that of the county gaol tonight. Mr. Knightley had dismissed Loretta’s other hangers-on from the inn, and the absence of an appreciative audience had diminished her dramatics significantly. So, too, had Mr. Knightley’s advisement that the Darcys’ stolen goods were of sufficient value to warrant deportation or hanging. At this news, Miss Jones had paled.
Mr. Elton apparently knew better than to interfere with the magistrate’s business. He offered Miss Jones a sympathetic look, but no more. Miss Jones turned back to Darcy, who towered over her. Though Miss Jones remained seated where they had found her, Darcy had not sat down at the table. He was reluctant to so relax his guard.
“I did not think you would believe me. And I was afraid of what they would do to me if I was unsuccessful.”
Mr. Knightley crossed his arms in front of his chest. He, too, remained standing, and regarded Miss Jones with the stern expression of a parent admonishing a wayward child. “So instead of soliciting the Darcys’ aid, you helped your captors rob them.”
“I robbed no one. While the gypsies stole their belongings, I stole away — into the woods, where I prayed they would not come looking for me when I did not meet them back at the camp as I had been instructed. It was my hope that having robbed a gentleman’s carriage so near the village, they would not dare linger in the neighborhood to collect me.” She addressed Darcy and Elizabeth. “I am sorry that your things were taken. But they are things. This was my chance to escape, and I took it. You may criticize the manner in which I went about it, but you have not lived my life these several months.”
On the surface, Darcy conceded, her explanation held credence. He doubted that every word of it was true, but there were parts that might be, or close to it. However, having once been deceived by this girl, he would not be twice duped. “Did you never attempt escape before?”
“I never had the opportunity.”
“In all those months?”
“They kept a close watch on me. It was only because they thought I had at last accepted their ways that they trusted me to participate in their scheme.”
Elizabeth shifted in her seat. She was relenting; Darcy could read it in her countenance.
“Miss Jones, if you but return the gown to us, we will drop this matter,” Elizabeth offered.
“What gown?”
The contents of the missing chest had not been mentioned to Miss Jones before now. Darcy wondered whether Elizabeth’s direct reference to the christening set had been a test.
“There was a gown among our stolen possessions that I am particularly impatient to have restored to me,” Elizabeth said.
“I know nothing about your belongings, for I never saw them. I did not meet the gypsies after the robbery — I was moving as fast and far as I could in the opposite direction.”
“Do you know where the band was next journeying?” Mr. Knightley asked.
