Page 43 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

“He sees Rosings, not you,” Darcy said, echoing words Anne herself had spoken before Lord Joseph’s death.

“You deserve better, Anne. Far better.” He ignored the pursed lips of Mrs. Jenkinson.

Anne’s companion’s opinions bore no weight, so far as he was concerned. He had heard more than enough of them.

The clock in Darcy’s study had just struck eleven when Elizabeth joined him, closing the door softly behind her.

The household had finally settled for the night, the younger women retired to their chambers, the servants dismissed to their quarters.

Only now, in these quiet hours, could husband and wife speak freely about the suspicions that had occupied their thoughts since Lord Joseph’s death.

Darcy looked up from the papers spread across his desk, police reports and interview transcripts that seemed to offer more questions than answers, and felt a surge of gratitude for his wife’s steady presence.

“Anne has finally gone to sleep,” Elizabeth said, settling into the chair opposite his desk. “Mrs. Jenkinson wanted to administer a sleeping draught, but Anne refused rather forcefully. I believe our cousin is discovering a strength of will long suppressed by her upbringing.”

“I observed something similar during the marquess’s visit this morning,” Darcy replied, pushing aside the documents to give Elizabeth his full attention. “There is a clarity in her grief that seems to have burned away some of her habitual diffidence.”

“A high price to pay for such growth,” Elizabeth said softly. She glanced at the papers on his desk. “Has Mr. Hargreaves provided any new insights from his investigation?”

Darcy shook his head, frustration evident in the gesture.

“Nothing of substance. The coroner has confirmed arsenic as the cause, as we expected. The amount in Lord Joseph’s teacup was substantial, suggesting whoever administered it intended a swift and certain outcome rather than a more subtle, prolonged poisoning. ”

“So there can be no doubt it was deliberate,” Elizabeth concluded. “Not an accident or contamination of the tea itself.”

“None whatsoever. The other refreshments tested clear of any poison.” Darcy rose from his desk, moving to stand before the fireplace where flames cast flickering shadows across the room.

“The central question remains: was Lord Joseph specifically targeted, or was he simply unfortunate enough to receive the poisoned cup by chance?”

Elizabeth considered this, her expression thoughtful. “If he was specifically targeted, we must ask who would benefit from his death. The most obvious answer would seem to be the Marquess of Byerly, who viewed Lord Joseph as a rival for Anne’s affections.”

“And by extension, as an obstacle to acquiring Rosings Park,” Darcy added. “Yet the marquess was demonstrably in Hampshire at the time of the musicale. His absence has been confirmed by multiple reliable sources.”

“Could he have arranged for another to act on his behalf?” Elizabeth suggested, her tone making it clear she found the idea distasteful but necessary to consider. “Paid some desperate person, perhaps?”

Darcy had pondered this possibility extensively.

“It seems unlikely. Such arrangements require deep connections to the criminal element, which a man of the marquess’s position would be unlikely to possess.

Furthermore, it would mean trusting another person with knowledge that could utterly destroy him if revealed. ”

“And whoever he might hypothetically employ would need access to our home,” Elizabeth added, “or at least to our gathering that afternoon. It could not be some unknown criminal from the streets.”

“Precisely.” Darcy ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of open frustration. “Which brings us to the uncomfortable possibility that the poisoner was among our invited guests or household staff.”

Elizabeth rose to join him by the fire, her proximity offering comfort though her expression remained troubled. “I have been thinking about the moment when Lord Joseph left his tea unattended. Do you recall? He set it on the side table when he rose to recite his poem for Anne.”

“Yes,” Darcy affirmed, the memory clarifying in his mind. “He placed it beside the arrangement of spring flowers, then retrieved it afterward and continued drinking while conversing with Anne.”

“During that interval, any number of people passed near that table,” Elizabeth said.

“I was moving about the room ensuring our guests were comfortable. Harrison and two footmen were circulating with refreshments. Several guests walked in that vicinity, either to admire the flowers or simply in the course of general movement about the room.”

The implication was clear and disheartening. “Making it impossible to narrow down who might have had the opportunity to add poison to his cup,” Darcy concluded.

“Exactly so.” Elizabeth’s frustration mirrored his own. “And without knowing who, we cannot begin to understand why.”

Darcy turned to face the fire, watching the flames consume a log that had shifted, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.

“If not the marquess, then who among our acquaintance had reason to wish Lord Joseph harm? By all accounts, he was a harmless, if occasionally ridiculous, gentleman. Well-liked, with no known enemies.”

“Could it have been a mistake?” Elizabeth suggested. “Perhaps the poison was intended for someone else, and Lord Joseph’s cup was targeted in error.”

Darcy considered this new angle thoughtfully. “If so, who was the intended victim? And again, why? None of our guests that afternoon seem obvious targets for such malice.”

“Unless,” Elizabeth said slowly, “the target was not a guest but a member of our household.”

The suggestion struck Darcy with unexpected force.

Could someone have been attempting to harm one of his family?

Anne, whose death would potentially change the inheritance of Rosings Park?

Or, even more horrifyingly, Elizabeth, which would free Darcy himself to marry again? He felt quite sick at the thought.

“That is a ghastly possibility,” he admitted, “yet we must consider it. Yet it returns us to the same problem: without knowing who administered the poison, we cannot determine whether Lord Joseph was the intended victim or merely an unfortunate substitute.”

They fell silent for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Darcy found himself reflecting on the inadequacies of their speculation. Without firm evidence or clear motive, they were merely constructing theories that led nowhere.

“What of the servants?” Elizabeth asked finally. “Mr. Hargreaves has questioned them all, I understand.”

“Thoroughly,” Darcy confirmed. “None have shown any suspicious behaviour or unexplained absences during the critical period. And again, none appear to have any conceivable motive for harming Lord Joseph, with whom most had minimal interaction.”

Elizabeth sighed, moving to warm her hands before the fire. “It seems we are at an impasse. Without knowing who had opportunity, we cannot narrow down potential motives. Without clear motives, we cannot focus on specific suspects.”

“Mr. Hargreaves expressed similar frustration this morning,” Darcy admitted. “The investigation appears to be stalling. Too many people had potential access to the teacup, none with obvious motive to use it for murder.”

“And in the meantime, rumours continue to circulate through London,” Elizabeth said, her concern evident. “Casting suspicion on our household and guests.”

Darcy felt the weight of responsibility settle more heavily upon his shoulders.

Lord Joseph had died under his roof, at a gathering he had hosted.

The young man’s family deserved justice, Anne deserved closure, and his own household deserved liberation from the shadow of suspicion that now hung over them all.

Returning to his desk, he looked down at the scattered papers that represented the official investigation’s equally fruitless efforts.

“Mr. Hargreaves intends to interview each guest once more, focusing particularly on their movements during the interval when Lord Joseph’s cup was unattended.

Beyond that, he has little hope of progress unless new evidence emerges. ”

“And what of Anne in the meantime?” Elizabeth asked, her concern evident. “She cannot remain indefinitely in this limbo, unable to properly mourn without resolution, unwelcome at her own home.”

“Anne must make her own decision regarding Rosings,” Darcy stated firmly.

“I meant what I said to her this morning. The estate is legally hers, regardless of her mother’s wishes.

If she chooses to return there, I will personally escort her to ensure her mother does not prevent her from taking up residence and put Aunt Catherine into the dower house, if necessary. ”

Elizabeth smiled faintly at this declaration. “Your protective instincts do you credit, my love. Though I wonder if Anne truly wishes to return to Rosings at present, or if she merely suggested it as an escape from painful reminders here in London.”

“A fair question,” Darcy acknowledged. “She has shown remarkable clarity in other matters these past days. Perhaps we should trust her to determine her own needs in this as well.”

They fell into comfortable silence for a moment, united in their concern for Anne and frustration at the stalled investigation. Finally, Elizabeth spoke again.

“Whatever comes of the official investigation, we must not allow this tragedy to cast a permanent shadow over our family. Georgiana and Kitty are young women at the beginning of their lives. Anne deserves the chance to discover who she might become beyond her mother’s control.

We cannot permit fear or suspicion to limit their futures. ”

Darcy crossed to his wife’s side, taking her hand in his. “You are right, as always. Though justice for Lord Joseph remains our obligation, we must also protect those under our care from unwarranted consequences of a crime they did not commit.”

“We shall find a balance,” Elizabeth assured him, echoing words she had spoken days earlier. “Between seeking truth and protecting those we love.”

As Darcy looked down at their joined hands, he felt a renewed determination.

The investigation might be stalling, the truth proving elusive, but his responsibility remained clear: to shield his family while pursuing justice, to support Anne in her grief and growing independence, and to ensure that Lord Joseph’s death, however senseless it appeared, did not go unanswered.

It was a complex task, made more difficult by the lack of clear evidence or obvious suspects, but one he would not abandon, regardless of the challenges ahead.