The Intrigue at Highbury

“There is a young Englishwoman whom I believe has been traveling with your caravan.”

“Hai. Loretta. She left the kumpania several days ago, I hope to return to her family.” Rawnie Zsofia sighed heavily and shook her head. “Her signs are very difficult to read. She is clever but not wise. Passion rules her instead of reason.”

“Was she kidnapped, as she claims?”

“Nai. She fell in love with a handsome young Rom of our kumpania and ran away from her family to be with him. Unfortunately, he did not return her love. She stayed with the caravan, hoping to win him, but he did not want a gorgie wife, especially one so headstrong and foolish. Two months ago he married a Romani.”

“And yet she continued to travel with the caravan?”

“I counseled her to go back to her own kind. So, too, did Hram. He had been away when she first joined the kumpania, but he returned shortly after the young man rejected her. She spent much time with Hram, following him like new pup, and he pitied her. I hoped that since he is English, like her, she would listen to him, but nai.”

“Did they — were they ever—” Elizabeth faltered, unsure how to delicately phrase her question. They were, after all, discussing Rawnie Zsofia’s son.

“Were they lovers? Nai. Hram has long been a man, and Loretta, though she has a woman’s body, is still very much a child. Perhaps she offered herself — sons, especially grown ones, do not tell their mothers everything, and even the most gifted drabarni cannot discern all. But he has no interest in her, save that of offering guidance to a fellow gorgio. He helped her understand the ways of the gypsies, but he did not teach her the ways of men and women.”

“Did her education in gypsy ways include the art of fortune-telling?”

“She is dukkering for the gorgios, is she?” Rawnie Zsofia released a low chuckle. “Hai, she asked me to teach her, and I saw that she has the intelligence to learn. But she had not the patience. Learning to read leaves or the cards or a palm takes time. One must know what to look for, and then how to interpret what is seen, and this knowledge comes only through practice. But Loretta, she wanted this understanding instantly. By the gods, she wanted to begin her training with the crystal! She sulked when I said we would start with tea. It was the same when she asked to learn the healer’s art. We were not an hour gathering plants when she complained of boredom and went off to watch her young Rom train ravens.”

Trained ravens. Elizabeth had suspected that the bird which appeared so conveniently at the time of their robbery had been a party to the conspiracy. She now had confirmation.

Rawnie Zsofia continued. “I do not think Loretta wanted to gain the skill of a drabarni, so much as the mystique of one. She is not alone in this. There are many Romani who learn only enough to persuade gorgios to part with their money. Loretta found such a one in our kumpania to teach her, and was starting to earn a fair number of coins. But it will be luck, not prophecy, if any of her foretellings actually come to pass. When she told Edgar Churchill’s fortune, she made such a jumble of it that another drabarni had to help her.”

“She met Edgar Churchill? When?”

“He came to our camp one afternoon, the day after Hram revealed himself to his father. Another gentleman was with him. I do not know his name.”

“How did you know he was Mr. Churchill?”

“My son had told me about his meeting with Churchill the day before, and my tea leaves that morning had told me to expect a visitor named ‘C.’ But even without that sign, I would have known him for Hram’s father.”

That Edgar Churchill had visited the gypsy encampment was certainly an interesting turn of events. “Why did Mr. Churchill come?”

“They were not seeking our camp, but when they came upon it, Loretta and a Romani girl persuaded the other gentleman to have his fortune told. Churchill looked uneasy, but also curious. He kept glancing about — maybe he hoped to see Hram, who was away in the village, or maybe he simply feared someone else would pass by and see him talking with gypsies. The girl and Loretta took them aside, and I busied myself nearby so I could observe the man my son had so long yearned to meet.

“Loretta made tea while her friend read the gentleman’s palm. After telling that fortune, the girl invited Churchill to give her his palm, but he refused. Loretta encouraged him to drink his tea, and talked very prettily to him, and by the time he finished the tea she had persuaded him to let her read the leaves.” Rawnie Zsofia rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head. “Of course, she had no idea what she was looking for. She uttered such nonsense that her friend took the cup from her and added her own forecast, so Churchill would feel that he got something for his coin. But even she seemed unsure. As Churchill and the other gentleman rose to go, one of the ravens flew over to them. It landed beside Churchill and let out a cry that sounded almost like a laugh. The other gentleman was amused, but the bird made Churchill even more uneasy, and they hurried away. I cannot blame him.”

“Why?”

“Ravens are bad omens. They nearly always mean trouble. And they often mean death.”

A chill passed through Elizabeth, and she burrowed more deeply into her cloak. “Did you warn Mr. Churchill?”

She shook her head. “The true meanings of omens take time to reveal themselves. The raven could be seen as a portent for Hram, that Churchill meant to harm him as his wife had threatened. Until I was sure, I had my son to protect.”

Rawnie Zsofia’s shawl had slipped. She returned it to her shoulders and started to rise. “The clouds grow thicker, and I have a long walk back to the kumpania. I must go.”

Elizabeth offered to drive her, but Rawnie Zsofia declined. She allowed the footman to assist her out of the coach, then extended her basket toward Elizabeth.

“I brought my son food, and medicines to keep him well in that unhealthy staripen. Will your husband give this to Hram?”

Elizabeth accepted the basket. She could predict Darcy and Mr. Knightley’s response. Heaven only knew what the “medicines” might contain, and who they were really intended for. “Only with the magistrate’s approval. I will be truthful with you — I doubt Mr. Deal will be allowed to have the medicines. He is suspected of poisoning someone, after all.”

“My son is suspected of many things he has not done.” She nodded towards the basket. “Look you inside, Rawnie Darcy. You will see.” She closed the coach door.

Elizabeth leaned against the seat. The air inside the coach still held the scent of perfume, and her mind whirled with all she had just heard. A few minutes passed before she returned altogether to the present; still more time would be required to absorb what she had learned.

She pulled the basket onto her lap and drew back the cloth that covered its contents. Apples and other foodstuffs filled it, along with several stoppered phials. She removed the food and medicines, setting them on the seat beside her. Another cloth lined the bottom, apparently bunched to form a cushion. She lifted out the cloth and discovered that the fabric did not itself form the cushion, but covered something else.

In the bottom of the basket, carefully folded, lay the Fitzwilliam family christening garments. And on top of them, Lady Anne’s signet ring.

Thirty-One

“How animated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!”

— Emma Woodhouse, Emma

“Did we not agree that you would stay in the carriage?”

The set of Darcy’s jaw told Elizabeth that he was not furious. But he was not happy. An unkind thought