Richard buttered his bread with enviable calm. “They have paid off the excise men, never doubt it. Fearless fellows, these. You said the barn has been newly built? You have seen no entries for timber or stone in the estate ledgers, have you?”
“No,” Darcy replied. “Not a trace.”
Richard pushed back his chair. “Then let us ride and examine it.”
Within the half hour the cousins were mounted and heading toward the folly. They said little as they went, for the subject was a heavy one. At last, the barn rose before them, plain and solid, its doors reinforced, its walls bare of windows.
The men dismounted, circling like hounds at scent. Through a narrow crack between the planks, they saw the truth. Half the interior was filled with kegs.
Richard gave a low whistle. “They are raking in coin. We cannot appeal to the excise office. The officers have already been bought. I will return to London and have a troop of dragoons posted here. Better them than us, caught between musket and cutlass. Imagine if they confiscated Lady Catherine’s land for harboring contraband.”
Darcy’s mouth tightened. “The audacity. The barn lies but a mile and a half from the house as the crow flies. One must ride four miles to reach it, yet smuggling takes place beneath her very nose. She cannot claim ignorance.”
Richard’s jaw set. “Our aunt is in league with the gang. How else could they build this beneath her very nose?”
“We cannot accuse her,” Darcy said. “She would fortify herself in denial. We must act as though ignorant. Anne may know something. The question is whether we can trust her.”
Richard considered, then nodded slowly. “Yes. I believe we can. I will contrive an outing in her phaeton and see what I may learn.”
Darcy agreed. “We need some answers before you return to London. You must speak with Anne, and in the meantime, I must search the ledgers.”
“She will have a second set,” Richard muttered. “No smuggler hides such schemes without careful accounts.”
“Of course,” Darcy said. “I will look for them, and I will watch Cooper. If the steward is complicit, he will betray himself in his movements.”
Richard smiled thinly. “Leave him to me when he leaves the house. You delve into the books. I shall tail the man and learn if he skulks with low company.”
The cousins mounted again, their purpose fixed. One would hunt for ledgers within the house, the other would seek secrets upon the road. Lady Catherine must be kept in the dark, for if she were complicit, they did not doubt that she would do what she could to keep her nephews in the dark.
Chapter 35: A Veil of Intrigue
Richard went in search of Anne and was told she had not yet come down. He waited for her in the drawing room, pacing from the window at the far wall to the fireplace and back again. When Anne at last entered, she found him with an embroidery hoop in his hand, studying the pattern of an exotic bloom.
He bowed to his cousin. “Good morning, Anne.”
She curtsied. “Good morning, cousin.”
He grinned. “Is there any chance you would take me out in your phaeton this morning? I trust you will not tip us over.”
She laughed. “I would take offense, Richard, but I know you love to tease. Let us go now.” She rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, she said, “Pray inform Mrs. Jenkinson that I am taking my cousin out, and she may have the morning free for her own errands.”
Anne turned back to Richard. “Come, let us walk to the stables. A litter of beagle puppies was born three weeks ago, and they are quite the most adorable creatures you will ever see.”
They crossed the hall, and a footman stepped forward with her bonnet and pelisse. Once outside, the air was cold, and it looked like it might rain later.
“Your pace astonishes me,” Richard said as the gravel crunched beneath their steps. “Such speed from a reputed invalid. You keep stride with a soldier.”
“You miss little,” Anne replied. “I practice a useful fiction. My mother believes me frail; I prefer that belief. Robust daughtersfetch messages; they sit through every tedious call in Kent; they play hostess without respite. My supposed delicacy spares me.”
Richard’s mouth twitched. “My aunt makes calls? I had not thought she possessed any friends to visit, nor credited the parishioners with such fortitude.”
“You are very direct, cousin. I should defend her.” A spark lit her blue eyes.
The sun caught the threads of gold within her fair curls, and Richard found himself reflecting that his cousin was, in truth, a pretty woman, and, better still, she showed no sign of the sickliness so often ascribed to her.
“You yourself confessed to stratagems,” he said. “I shall claim the same liberty. Truth does us credit.”
“Take every liberty,” she returned. “You cannot think worse of my mother than I do. I have studied her ways for five-and-twenty years.”
