Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

“She might have used the other stairs just round the bend, behind the quay—the ones we came down after the ship exploded,” Elizabeth said. “They are not far, especially if her legs are stronger than she has led you to believe. If she took care, she could manage them the same way she managed the stairs this morning at your house. I wager it was she who went up to the nursery and took Alfred.”

“And it is I who will take him back.” Captain Wentworth began walking toward the pair. The others fell into step.

“When we reach them, there is no use pretending we did not hear their discussion—with Mrs. Smith, at any rate,” Elizabeth said. “Look where her bench is, Darcy—she is ideally situated to overhear conversations, and in fact heard one between Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot shortly before Mrs. Clay died. I do not know whether Mr. Elliot is aware of the phenomenon; I think perhaps not, for his speech to her was unguarded.” She paused. “For that matter, so was hers—I wonder whether she realizes the whispering effect works in both directions.”

“I cannot believe Mrs. Smith would act so falsely by us,” Mrs. Wentworth said, “or harm Mrs. Clay. She is my friend. We must give her an opportunity to explain.”

As they neared the bench, they were able to obtain a closer look at Alfred. The child was wrapped in a blanket and appeared to be sleeping. Mrs. Smith smiled at the Wentworths. “Why, good morning, Anne.” Mr. Elliot also offered a greeting, but without the smile. Caution pervaded his normally smooth manner.

“Good morning,” Anne stammered.

Captain Wentworth went straight to Mrs. Smith and took Alfred. “You have given us quite a fright, Mrs. Smith. We have been looking for Alfred.”

“Yes,” Anne added. “How did the two of you come to bring him here?”

“I had nothing to do with the child,” Mr. Elliot declared. “He was with Mrs. Smith when I happened upon them.” He glanced at the quay, where the Black Cormorant was docked. The merchantman had acquired her guns since Darcy had last seen her. Darcy wondered whether it was Mrs. Smith or the ship that had brought Mr. Elliot to the Cobb.

“I did not mean to alarm you,” Mrs. Smith said. “Did you not find my note?”

Captain Wentworth passed the sleeping baby to his wife, who held him tightly. As Alfred nestled against her—a welcome sign that he was sound—the anxiety in her face diminished but did not disappear. “No,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “There was no note.”

“I left it in—well, now, where did I leave it? All was such a bustle when we quit the house. The chair bearers were impatient. I had wanted to linger a few minutes more for Mrs. Logan to return, but they said they had other customers waiting. So I decided to bring Alfred with me.”

“Why did you not simply leave him sleeping in the nursery?” Captain Wentworth asked.

“I thought he might enjoy the outing, and the sea air has been so therapeutic for me that I believed he could benefit from it as well. Besides, he was not in the nursery when the chair arrived—he was already with me. I had heard him crying earlier, after Mrs. Logan went out. You were in the study with your guests—I did not think you wished to be disturbed. So I went to the nursery myself to quiet him. He would not settle down without being held, and the sedan chair was due to arrive, so I brought him downstairs with me so that I might watch for it.”

“How did you negotiate the stairs?” Mrs. Wentworth asked.

Mrs. Smith smiled brightly. “On my own legs, I am proud to say. I have been improving beyond your knowledge, Anne! The sea has done wonders for my health. You and Captain Wentworth have been so good to me that I wanted to surprise you some future morning by leaving behind my cane and walking with you all the way down to the Cobb on my own. I am not quite that strong yet—it is a long, steep walk, but I have been practicing by climbing and descending the stairs when you are not at home.”

Mrs. Wentworth regarded her in astonishment. It was not, however, the delighted amazement that Mrs. Smith had hoped to arouse in her friend. It was a sober, wary shock. Her gaze drifted from Mrs. Smith to the wall behind her, and up to the edge of the parapet from which Mrs. Clay had fallen. “And is that,” she said, her voice small, as if muting it would negate the possibility of what she was about to ask, “how you came to be standing on the upper Cobb the morning Mrs. Clay died?”

Mrs. Smith’s cheerful glow transformed into a panicked flush.

“I can explain.”

Admiral Croft returned to the Wentworths’ home in a great flurry. He entered the sitting room so intent upon his mission that he did not realize he interrupted two people who had been engaged for some time in private conversation.

“I have the warrants,” he announced. “The customs officers and our own forces stand ready. Here—I brought your sword. Where is Wentworth?”

“With Mr. Darcy.” Captain St. Clair rose from the sofa to accept the sword; Georgiana also stood. “They are tracking down Mr. Elliot.” He summarized Alfred’s disappearance.

Admiral Croft frowned. “This is most alarming. How is Mrs. Wentworth taking it?”

“Not well. She is upstairs in the nursery. Mrs. Darcy is with her.”

The admiral nodded. “We will not disturb them.” He looked at Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, please assure Mrs. Wentworth that Captain St. Clair and I have gone to apprehend Mr. Elliot. Sir Laurence, as well.”

“I will, sir. I am sure the news will relieve her.”

Admiral Croft bowed. “Let us make haste, Captain.” He quit the room.

Captain St. Clair put on his hat and girded his sword. From bicorne to boots, he looked every inch an officer prepared for battle.

“You do not expect to fight Sir Laurence, do you?” Georgiana asked.

“If the baronet is as intelligent as he thinks he is, he will surrender without resistance. But if not, I am prepared.” Her anxious expression gave him pause. “We intend to take him alive, if that is the source of your concern.”

“No, it is not.”

Hand on his sword hilt, he took a step toward her. “I had been wanting to warn you of him for some time, but feared you would interpret my words as—well, it does not matter now. When next you see me, Sir Laurence will no longer be a threat to anybody.”

He took leave of her, then went to meet the admiral in the hall. He had nearly quit the room when Georgiana’s voice stopped him.

“Captain—”

He turned round. “Yes, Miss Darcy?”

She advanced until she stood just before him. “Do take care.”

He regarded her a long moment, his eyes full of hopeful determination. “I shall.”

“Show a leg, Captain St. Clair,” called the admiral from the entry hall. “Sir Laurence and Mr. Elliot will not be kept waiting.”

“It was an accident.”

Mr. Elliot chuckled at Mrs. Smith’s declaration. “Undoubtedly.”

Mrs. Smith stared at him a moment, appearing to weigh something in her mind, then turned to the others and gave Anne Wentworth her full address.

“I was here that morning, as usual. The weather started to turn, and Mrs. Rooke left to summon the sedan chair early to take me home. She had barely started away when I became aware of a conversation going on above me on the upper wall. I recognized the voices—they belonged to Mrs. Clay and Mr. Elliot.