Carrie Bebris - The Intrigue at Highbury

Old Mrs. Bates, upset and confused, called out for her daughter. Mrs. Knightley went to her. She tried to explain what was occurring — which, indeed, they all were still trying to figure out — but as it seemed inappropriate to shout the details of Miss Bates’s distress at the volume required for the elderly lady to comprehend them, Mrs. Knightley soon gave up. She instead settled Mrs. Bates into her chair, brought over one for herself, and sat beside her, holding her hand and soothing her as best she could.

Miss Jones, meanwhile, attempted to take advantage of everybody’s divided notice to make an escape. Darcy put a swift end to that notion. She had moved a single step toward the door when he swung it shut and interposed himself.

He had but one question for her.

“Why?”

She laughed derisively and said nothing, turning her head away. But her insolent expression transformed to pained when she caught sight, through the bedroom doorway, of Mr. Deal dabbing Miss Bates’s flushed face with a damp cloth.

Her countenance hardened. “He does not love her, you know. He cannot love her.”

“Why not?”

“Because he loves me.” There was an odd light in her eyes. “Or he will — once I explain it all to him.”

Darcy could not fathom an explanation that would excuse her crimes, let alone win a man’s affection. She would be lucky to escape hanging.

Mr. Perry arrived and went immediately to his patient. With Miss Bates now in the apothecary’s care, Mr. Knightley, Elizabeth, and Mr. Deal came out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“Mr. Perry praised Mr. Deal for acting so quickly,” Mr. Knightley said. “Once she voids her stomach, she should be out of danger.”

Mr. Deal’s anxious gaze lingered on the bedroom door.

“Hiram?”

The peddler flinched at the sound of Miss Jones’s voice.

“Hiram, when you understand why I—”

He whirled to face her. “Understand? What is there to understand, Loretta? What could possibly justify what you have done?”

“I did it for you.”

“You poisoned Miss Bates — a gentle soul who could not harm a mouse — for me?” He looked as if he, too, were about to become ill.

“She cannot make you happy, Hiram. She is like that little slut Nellie and all the other women.”

“What women?”

“Every village, every borough we passed through — all of them throwing themselves at you. But none of them know you as I do. At the end of the day you are still nothing but a peddler to them. Whereas I–I would follow you anywhere! I told you so — I offered you a woman’s heart and a woman’s body.” Her voice grew hoarse. “But I was just a child in your eyes. You told me to go home, back to my parents.”

“And you should have listened! But instead — instead of returning to your father, you murdered mine? Did you do that for me, too?”

“Edgar Churchill was never a father to you, any more than his wife was a mother.”

A fresh expression of horror overtook his features. “Did you kill her, as well?”

She laughed. “I wish I could take credit. That hateful old lady deserved to die — when I overheard you tell Madam Zsófia what she had said to you, I was only sorry that God took her before I thought of it. But her death made me realize that all of the Churchills needed to be punished — and I knew that if I could be the one to bring them to justice, to make them pay for what they had done to you, to vindicate you — then — then you would see that I am not a child.”

“What did Edgar and Frank Churchill do to me that merited poisoning them?”

“All of the Churchills treated you cruelly! While your parents lived in their fancy houses and wore fine clothes, while your cousin usurped your birthright, you lived amongst gypsy thieves.”

He shook his head in disgust. “I have never regretted my life with the Roma.”

Miss Jones’s last statement brought to Darcy’s mind the puzzle they had received. “Was it you who left the anagram? ‘He dwelled amongst thieves’—”

“ ‘—as they lived large in Richmond’?” Her mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smile. “I most certainly did. I could not be silent. Everyone mistook the Churchills for victims. Their hypocrisy needed to be known.”

“But why did you implicate yourself and Mr. Deal with the second solution — the one about hidden motives?” Mrs. Knightley asked.

Miss Jones regarded her as if she were daft. “There was no second solution.”

“Indeed, there was.”

“If you found one, your own imagination created it, for I did not.”

“But I—” Mrs. Knightley stared at her unbelievingly. “ ‘Clever lying girl — Deal had hidden motives — Not what he seems’—You did not hide that second message in the puzzle?”

Now Miss Jones’s expression was scornful. “Why on earth would I?”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Deal said quietly, “the powers you mocked by engaging in false prophecy caused you to reveal more than you intended.”

Loretta looked as if she were about to mock that suggestion as well, but then appeared to think better of it.

“Did you author the previous puzzle, too?” Elizabeth asked.

“The one Mrs. Elton spoke of? No. But hearing her talk about it at the Crown gave me the idea of writing my own message as a puzzle, and I sent it to the post office with Alice when she took Mrs. Todd’s letters so that no one would know it came from me. I hoped you would assume the two puzzles were written by the same person — and I see that I was successful.” She turned back to Mr. Deal. “Hiram, do you understand now how I planned for us? When the caravan moved on and you stayed behind, I remained as well — to help you avenge yourself on your father, and clear the way for you to claim your rightful inheritance.”

Mr. Deal turned away, unable to look at her any longer. He crossed to the window and stared through the rain-spattered glass into the night. Darcy could only imagine his thoughts.

“When did you poison Frank Churchill?” Mr. Knightley asked Miss Jones.

“At the Crown. I had been lingering round the village since leaving the caravan, eavesdropping for news that Edgar Churchill had in fact died, and watching for an opportunity to punish Frank. I followed him to the inn. It was very busy — a stagecoach had just arrived, and the kitchen was in disorder trying to serve all the passengers quickly to get them back on the coach. When the serving girl left his tea unattended before bringing it to him, I added my own ingredient.”

“Nobody noticed you?”

“I learned a few things from the gypsies.” She took obvious pride in her acts.

“I suppose that is how you poisoned Nellie, too — tainting her tea when she had her fortune read at the Crown,” Elizabeth said.

“That was a bit more difficult, but I managed. Edgar Churchill was the easiest of all, as I made his tea and served it myself.”

Mr. Deal cast her a look of utter revulsion. “I am going to check on Miss Bates.”

“Hiram—”

He did not look at her as he passed, but went straight to the bedroom and shut the door.

“Did not Thomas Dixon become suspicious, once Edgar Churchill had died?” Darcy asked.

“Thomas Dixon knows enough to leave other people’s secrets alone, if he wants to keep his own.”

“What secrets would those be?”

“Nothing that pertains to the Churchills or anybody else in Highbury. But my gypsy friend told me his palm was rather revealing, to one who knows how to read them. If you want to learn more, you shall have to ask him.”

Footsteps on the staircase announced the arrival of another visitor. As nobody was expected, they all waited in some suspense as Mr. Knightley answered the knock.