“It is another express for Mr. Darcy,” he said. “The rider must have passed the two of them on the road.”
Elizabeth glanced at the paper, and then at her father.
“Do not fret, Lizzy,” her father said fondly. “Darcy authorised me to open any additional post from his solicitor in case there was anything that needed to be acted upon. This is just a note telling him that his Great-Uncle Theophilus is making a fuss over the dispensation of his brother’s estate.” He tossed the letter on his desk. “Once an estate has been settled, it cannot be taken back unless there was some sort of malfeasance in the distribution. As this Mr. Connors has long been the old Mr. Darcy’s solicitor, I am certain there were no irregularities in the thing. Darcy is simply a man who attends promptly to his business.”
“That is not it, Papa,” Elizabeth said slowly. She motioned to the letter. “It is that this is almost exactly the same message that arrived for Mr. Darcy last night. Why would Mr. Connors send two expresses with the same information?”
Papa shrugged. “Perhaps it was a mistake by his clerks.”
Elizabeth read the note, believing that as Mr. Darcy had allowed her to read the first, he would not mind.
Mr. Darcy,
Your great-uncle is making some rather serious accusations about the legal status of your inheritance. I do not believe it shall amount to anything, but you may wish to return to town so that we may deal with him expeditiously.
I do beg your pardon for disrupting your visit.
Mr. Benjamin Connors
She stared out the window, the note still in her hand. It made no sense. Perhaps ithadmerely been an error, but it bothered her. The solicitor, Mr. Benjamin Connors, had signed both expresses himself. She strained to recall what the first signature had looked like. Was it the same hand? And if it was, would Mr. Connors not have noticed he was signing the same express twice?
“I shall send this on to Darcy in London,” Papa said, and glanced at his watch. “They must be halfway there by now.”
She did not reply. The first message had been terse, abrupt. Would a solicitor be so forward with a client, particularly a now very wealthy one? This new one was polite, even deferential.
Elizabeth poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip. What if both letters werenotfrom Mr. Connors, but only one? What if the first had been sent by someone else?
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Why would anyone else pen a note to call Mr. Darcy to London? Only his solicitor would write about his inheritance.
Inheritance.
Her gasp was quite loud, and her teacup rattled in its saucer.
“Elizabeth?” Papa asked, stepping closer and taking the cup from her hands. “What is the matter, my dear?”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said slowly, knowing how ridiculous it would sound but more convinced each moment that she was correct, “do we know beyond certainty thatyouare the man being targeted?”
His brow wrinkled. “It was my carriage, Elizabeth, and the cognac was directed to me. I have set myself against the officers of the local militia. It is not as though I have made many friends this autumn.”
“But you would not have been alone in the carriage, nor would you have kept the cognac to yourself. No man hosting good friends would.” She shook her head.
His lips parted as though he would speak, but Papa remained silent, considering.
“All this time we wondered if perhaps Mr. Collins was behind these attacks so that he could claim Longbourn immediately,” she said, a sense of panicked urgency growing within her. “But he is not the only one directly involved in the inheritance of an estate.”
Her father’s complexion paled as he caught her meaning. “Darcy,” he said flatly. “He might also have been expected to ride in the carriage, and it would have to be assumed that I would share the cognac with both him and his cousin.”
“And it would have been as easy to shoot him as well as anyone else exiting through the front door,” she said as an ache began in her chest. “As despicable as it sounds, it would be more difficult to discover who had been the cause of such deaths were there more than one man killed.” Elizabeth swallowed hard and exerted herself to calm. “Especially if we all believed that you were the intended victim.”
“The cognac sat for several days in my gunroom.” Papa’s expression was grim. “Whoever sent it might have become impatient when there was no news of a tragedy and decided to make a more direct attempt. Fortunately for us, he sent a man who could not resist stealing a bottle of wine.”
She nodded, feeling a numb cold taking hold of her heart. “The man was a former servant. It might have been concluded that he was taking his revenge on the family and that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam were merely bystanders caught up in the violence.”
Her father closed his eyes for a moment. “Here in Hertfordshire, only someone in the house or the stable would know our comings and goings. But Mr. Todd aside, our staff is loyal, and strangers are easily identified. He could not know where Darcy would be, nor when he would be there. Not with any certainty.”
Before he could continue, Elizabeth added, “In London it would be easier to follow Mr. Darcy from the house. His staff do not even know him, and when he leaves his home, there are so many people there to hide behind.” Her voice cracked. “Will Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam be safe even on the road to London?”
“Anders!” Papa bellowed, striding out to the hall. “Anders!”