Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

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In Jane Austen’s
, the Cobb—Lyme’s famous seawall—proved dangerous to a careless young woman. Now it proves deadly.
Following their recent intrigue at Highbury, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy visit the seaside village of Lyme on holiday. Family business also draws them there, to receive the personal effects of Mr. Darcy’s late cousin, a naval lieutenant who died in action.
Their retreat turns tragic when they come upon a body lying at the base of the Cobb. The victim is Mrs. Clay, a woman with a scandalous past that left her with child—a child whose existence threatened the inheritance of one of her paramours and the reputation of another. Did she lose her balance and fall from the slippery breakwater, or was she pushed?
Mrs. Clay’s death is not the only one that commands the Darcys’ attention. When Mr. Darcy discovers, among his cousin’s possessions, evidence that the young lieutenant’s death might have been murder, he allies with Captain Frederick Wentworth (hero of Jane Austen's Persuasion) to probe details of a battle that took place across the sea . . . but was influenced by a conspiracy much closer to home.
The Deception at Lyme (Or, The Peril of Persuasion) is the delightful sixth installment in the critically acclaimed and award-winning Mr. and Mrs. Darcy mystery series by Carrie Bebris.

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“I should like that very much,” Georgiana said.

They walked another twenty yards or so, past the steps up which Sir Laurence had come. Elizabeth looked again at the sky and the churning water. Though she agreed with the baronet’s opinion of the sea’s untamed splendor, at present she would rather appreciate that splendor from the shore—or better still, from the interior side of a window in a room with a fire warm enough to banish the damp chill that had crept into her bones. Yet she did not want to deny Georgiana the pleasure of Sir Laurence’s company.

“I pray you will understand a mother’s anxiety and let us postpone taking Lily-Anne farther out to the point until fairer weather,” Elizabeth said. “However, do escort Miss Darcy. We will wait here.”

Sir Laurence bowed. “We shall not be long.”

As the pair walked away, Elizabeth noticed how closely Darcy observed them. “This is not Ramsgate,” she said, “and your sister is four years older than the last time she visited the sea. I believe it is safe to take your eyes off her for a moment.”

“It was not the sea that posed danger in Ramsgate.”

“No, it was one of her oldest acquaintances, someone she should have been able to trust. Would you deny her a new acquaintance now because of Mr. Wickham’s deceit? Surely the baronet is not a fortune hunter.”

“No, Sir Laurence inherited considerable wealth along with his title, and the sense to protect it. That fellow last night who ogled her on the stairs, however, is another matter.”

Elizabeth had thought the gentleman’s conduct unobjectionable. “He did not ogle. And what makes you suspect him of being a fortune hunter? He appeared perfectly respectable.”

“One cannot be too wary.”

“Sea.” Lily-Anne squirmed in Darcy’s hold. Tired of being carried, she was growing restless, but Elizabeth wanted to provide Georgiana a few more minutes’ uninterrupted conversation. Sir Laurence was pointing toward the ship still approaching port. Though it was a good-sized vessel, with cannons lining its sides, its progress appeared hampered by the strong eastern wind.

She took Lily-Anne into her own arms. Lily rested her chin on Elizabeth’s shoulder and stilled, content—at least for the moment—to gaze at the view behind her mother, but the tranquility would not last. In truth, the sea had temporarily lost its allure for Elizabeth, as well.

“Given the weather, we need to cancel our plans to go seabathing this morning and find some other diversion,” Elizabeth said. “Have we any other engagements today?”

“Only my appointment with Lieutenant St. Clair, but that is not until evening.”

“Where are you meeting?”

“He will call at our lodgings at half past seven.”

Sir Laurence and Georgiana returned, retreating from the Cobb’s point more hurriedly than they had walked out to it. Georgiana held fast to the baronet’s arm.

“The wind has shifted,” Sir Laurence said. “Storms can arise very quickly in Lyme, and those from the east are the worst. You can see how that ship struggles to make port. I advise walking back to town without delay.”

Scarcely had he uttered the words than an enormous crack rent the sky. A lightning bolt struck the mainmast of the struggling ship. Aflame, the mast fell toward deck but got caught in the rigging of the foremast, igniting that, as well. Suddenly, the ship was a fiery spectacle of burning sails, ropes, and wood. Smoke billowed up from the lower decks and out the gun ports. The blazing mast, having incinerated the ropes that trapped it, crashed to the quarterdeck.

But the worst was yet to come.

In seconds that seemed to stretch to eternity, the flames reached gunpowder.

The explosion was so forceful that Elizabeth felt its thunder ripple past her. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on her daughter, who cried out and clung to her. Had the ship been closer, all on the upper Cobb would have been in serious danger from flying debris.

The Cobb erupted in motion. Those who knew the sea hurriedly prepared to search for survivors—futile though their efforts might prove—or to scavenge the ship’s cargo. Everyone else rushed to get out of the rescuers’ way and find safety for themselves.

Another thunderbolt lit the sky. Elizabeth’s heart raced so hard that surely Lily-Anne could feel its palpitations. “Sea, Mama! Sea!” She practically climbed up her mother’s chest and over her shoulder toward the harbor. Even the child realized that her former source of delight now posed peril.

Elizabeth felt she could not get off the exposed seawall fast enough.

Before she even turned to Darcy, he was taking their daughter into his own arms. “Come.” His voice was calm, but she heard the underlying urgency. He motioned toward the steps Sir Laurence had ascended but a few minutes ago. “We must move to lower ground.” Georgiana and Sir Laurence were right behind them.

The steps were narrower than Elizabeth had realized, and water puddled in their crevices and depressions. Under other circumstances she would have eschewed them in favor of the broad stairs at the other end of the Cobb, but they had not that luxury—the sky threatened greater hazard than the stone.

Father and daughter descended first, followed by the ladies and Sir Laurence, and their party hurried along the lower Cobb toward shore. Though they were now alee of the upper wall, the breakwater offered only partial shelter, for the harbor opened to the east whence the wind blew from Charmouth along the cliff face. The wall’s bend at this section restricted their view of a considerable portion of the Cobb ahead. Elizabeth was anxious to reach the point where this particular curve ended; from there she would be able to see the remaining distance to safety. Drops of water landed on her: two on her arm, another on her neck. Were they sea spray, or had rain begun to fall?

She moved faster with each step to keep pace with Darcy’s ever-lengthening strides. They approached the curve, rounded it—

And stopped.

The solitary woman they had seen standing on the upper Cobb now blocked their path on the lower. Her back to them, she did not turn this time. Indeed, she took no notice of them at all. And her cape no longer billowed about her.

It covered her body, lying motionless on the cold, hard stone.

Three

The horror of that moment to all who stood around!

—Persuasion

There is never a particularly good time to stumble upon a body, but Darcy could not help thinking that this was one of the worst. The sky had darkened to the state of dusk, and the droplets that struck the pavement could no longer be dismissed as sea spray by even the most optimistic observer. Thunder sounded again.

Sir Laurence came up beside him. “Is she dead?”

“I see no blood,” Darcy said, “but she does not appear to be breathing.” He transferred Lily-Anne to Elizabeth, who tried to shield the child’s view while he approached the prostrate form.

Lily-Anne, however, seemed intent on watching him. She wrestled against Elizabeth’s embrace. “See!”

“Not now, Lily.” Elizabeth drew their daughter closer to her.

Darcy knelt beside the inanimate form tossed on the ground like one of Lily-Anne’s rag dolls. The lady’s right arm was trapped beneath her, the other hidden with her bent knees somewhere beneath her long cape.

“She must have tried to descend Granny’s Teeth to escape the storm,” Sir Laurence said.

“Granny’s Teeth?”

The baronet nodded toward the wall. Beside them rose a set of steps so narrow that they had escaped Darcy’s notice entirely when they passed them above. “Steps,” in fact, was too generous a word to describe the weathered rectangular stones protruding at uneven intervals from the sheer face of the wall. The flight was so steep and treacherous that only the most intrepid—or foolhardy—individual would hazard it in trousers and fair weather, let alone skirts in a storm.

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