“Do you always work with Lady Trafford?”
“Well, she is over this region, so when I am here, I do. Though in London I report directly to Mr. Booth.”
She tagged the name in her mind. She wanted to ask for Mr. Booth’s first name but thought it would be suspicious, so instead she asked, “Where do you normally stay in London?”
“In my parents’ townhouse. We often live there for the season. They do not know many of the things I am really doing; they just want to see me wed, but a search for a bride provides ample reason to attend every social event in town, and my family’s investments make visiting places of business and government natural. What about you? Where will you stay?”
“I have an aunt and uncle in London, or my sister and her husband may be staying for the season.”
“Who is your sister?”
“Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” He had turned the questions to her, which she did not like, but she felt obligated to respond. Lady Trafford always said that a conversation, to be lively to both partners, must have equal participation and interest on both sides.
They neared Castle Durrington. Lady Trafford might be watching from the front of the house, waiting for Mr. Stanley to arrive. If she rode up with him, she would be discovered.
“I told Lady Trafford I would check on one of her tenants, a woman that is feeling ill, so I will leave you here.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet.”
“And you as well, Mr. Stanley.”
She waved to him and rode off on a smaller trail that led through the woods to another part of the estate. Then she rode into the trees, approaching as close to Castle Durrington as she could without being seen.
Lady Trafford, Mr. Withrow, and Mrs. Boughton came out of the house to greet Stanley. Mr. Tubbs took his horse, and they quickly went inside.
Mary tied the reins of her own horse to a tree. She did not want anyone in the house to know she had returned, and if she needed to flee, she could run into the trees and make a quick escape. Of course, she would still need to find a way to mount…if it came to it, maybe she could climb a tree.
Staying in the tree cover, she walked as close to the castle as she could. Thankfully, no one was outside, and hopefully those inside were too occupied with a guest to be looking out the windows. She walked quickly across the uncovered space, staying close to the side of the house, crouching as she passed by windows, then made it to the front door.
It was locked.
If she knocked, all would be revealed. She continued on to the east annex and entered the servants’ door to the kitchen. It was rather empty, and she only had to hide once, when a servant came for a selection of teas and hors d’oeuvres.
She snuck behind the servant, who rapped on the library door and delivered the food.
Mary slipped up the smaller staircase, made sure no one was in the rotunda, and darted across to the curtained wall. She did not have time to remove her cloak or change her clothes, did not even have time to retrieve a candle. They were in the library, and she would hear what they had to say.
She found the hidden latch and pushed open the door, taking a deep breath before she stepped into the dark and shut herself in. She stumbled around in the dark, trying to find the trapdoor. She bumped into the crate covering it, making a small thump. Her heart raced and she stayed as still as possible. Hopefully no one had heard her. She moved the crate and opened the trapdoor. Climbing down the ladder, in this dress, in the dark, was laborious, and she feared that she was missing important things they might be saying, but finally she made it down and sank to the floor next to the grate.
“I am glad your family is doing well,” said Lady Trafford. “And now, to matters of business.”
“I wish Miss Bennet was joining us for this conversation,” said Mr. Stanley.
“Miss Bennet?” said Lady Trafford sharply.
“She is my partner for the job in London, is she not?”
“What on earth are you talking about, Stanley?” asked Mr. Withrow.
“I met Miss Bennet on the road on the way here. She needed my assistance mounting her horse…and I…well…I accidentally threw her over her horse. Our second attempt at mounting worked better, and then we talked a little on the way here. She seemed to know a lot about our plans, and I assumed she was one of us.”
“Miss Mary Bennet?” asked Mr. Withrow.
“Yes,” said Stanley. “She was beautiful and charming and witty. Will someone tell me what is going on?”
“Miss Bennet is a distant relation,” said Lady Trafford. “She has been staying with us for the last several months, and I was attempting to train her, but she failed all our tests, and so we did not bring her into our ranks. Please, describe the woman you met.”
“She was about this tall,” said Mr. Stanley. “With stunning hair, a smooth complexion, and a delicate nose. She had piercing eyes and a regal manner of bearing. She wore a lovely cream-coloured gown.”
“That cannot possibly have been Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Withrow. “Someone has been spying on us and has decided to use Miss Bennet’s identity to extract information from you.”
“Oh God,” said Mr. Stanley.
“What did you tell her?” asked Lady Trafford.
“I mentioned where I was from, and when I am leaving. I said that you were the head of this region and…and I mentioned Mr. Booth.”
There was a sigh, that sounded like it must be from Lady Trafford. “A woman, waiting for you on the road. She puts you in her debt, and then tricks information out of you. You are supposed to know better than this, Stanley.”
“I am
